This Pretty Much Explains It

"The Flower contrasts a utopian society that freely farms and consumes a pleasure giving flower with a society where the same flower is illegal and its consumption is prohibited."

Kim Jong Il, Why Don't You Go Fuck Yourself?

We drove to the MAK to see the "Flowers For Kim Il Sung" exhibit.

It's a first-time-ever exhibition of North Korean art, poster production, and architecture from North Korea, in cooperation with that country.

It's not that I didn't expect to see the usual propaganda bullshit in which the "Great Leader" is worshiped like we in America worship the military, money, or the Dallas Cowboys. I knew more or less what to expect when it came to the art.

What I didn't expect was that I would be expected to go through a fucking security check on the way into the gallery. I'm just glad I found this out before I paid---had I paid first I'd have demanded my money back.

Here's the deal. I've been to the Uffizi in Florence, where you can see magnificent works of art by guys like Da Vinci, Michaelangelo, Rembrandt, etc. You know, really big art guys whose work kind of means something. And guess what? I didn't have to go through a metal detector because some asshole dictator was afraid---justifiably----that someone like Banksy (or hell, me) might paint a Hitler mustache on the Great Leader's fat little face.

Outraged, I said "Forget this" and went outside and sat on the steps while B toured the exhibit. It just kind of galled me that anyone would kowtow to some midget dictator who "allows" such obvious bullshit propaganda to be seen but who's frightened about the reaction to the point that he wants me to go through a metal detector. Hey---GO FUCK YOURSELF.

When B came out, she told me she understood the security concerns because after seeing some of the paintings she also kind of wanted to deface them.

Then we bought groceries and came home and I made a big pot of chili. B made dressing for the salad. Delicious.

At one point during our dinner I wondered what the average guy in North Korea is eating tonight.

But I pushed the thought out of my head.

Imagining & German Lessons Again

Part of my 9-week European getaway is to imagine what it would be like to actually live in Vienna, as opposed to just visiting twice a year.

For one thing, I would never drive in Vienna. I'd only use public transportation and occasionally a bicycle. It's too expensive to own a car, and I don't like some of the narrow streets here, the uncontrolled intersections (well, they're controlled by everyone's understanding of the rules----which I don't understand) and there's too much shit to beware of---the movement of public transportation conveyances, which have the right of way, etc. Fuck it. I wouldn't drive here. Besides, for about $500 a year you can buy a pass good for all the public transportation, 24-7-365. Who the hell would bother owning a car?

If I lived here I'd live with B, whose household already has everything you'd need----furniture, cookware, etc. But what if I had none of that? Well, you can spend way too much money equipping a home---or you can live like an impoverished (yet not unhappy) student and buy your shit in the immigrant part of town. Yesterday I was in the 16th District, Ottakring, for my German lesson. This district is heavy with immigrants, mostly Turks. I walked around killing time, looking in the shop windows. I found shops where you could equip a basic kitchen for not much money----buy a pot, a pan, a knife, a bowl and plate and cup. Or, you could go to the Uber-Yup part of town and pay five times as much for essentially the same things.

If you really wanted to save money, you could hit the flea markets---though most of what I saw there wasn't anything I'd want, or use.

I eat out a lot when I visit Vienna, but that's a treat because I'm on vacation. If I lived here, I'd economize a lot more. You can buy fresh fruit, vegetables, spices, anything you need at several open-air markets around town. If you're wandering around, buy a couple of apples, a piece of salami, some bread, and carry a quart of water with you. You won't go hungry and will probably be healthier than eating out all the time.

These are things I'm slowly doing anyhow, in America. As a retiree with a small pension, and no interest in ever having another job, I have to figure this stuff out. One of the things I hope to do is turn my entire yard into a garden filled with edible things----fruit, vegetables, herbs. Walk outside and pick your food off the plants! Have less yard to mow.

----

A nice sunny day when I took off for my next German lesson. I roamed around the 16th District for a while first, then stopped at a pizza joint for a quick lunch. A slice of spinach pizza and a beer was 2.80 Euro. I sat at a table on the sidewalk watching the world go by.

A camper pulled up and parked at the curb in front of me. Two guys stepped out and walked off. I noticed they didn't bother locking the door...

....then I saw a massive dog stick his head out the back window. Then I saw another dog, the same breed, walk up and sit in the passenger seat. He was one of the biggest, most muscular dogs I've ever seen. I took pictures:

Nice doggie...nice doggie!

If this dog ever got loose, the entire neighborhood would do 

a group Jackie Gleason impersonation: Homina! Homina! Homina! [GULP!]

The weather in Vienna has been weird this summer. Kind of unseasonably cold at the beginning, then unseasonably hot for a while (which is how it was when I arrived) and now kind of spring or fall-like, with rain. It was a sunny pleasant day at first:

A nice day in the 16th.

But by 2:30, when it was time for the German lesson in the park, it looked so much like rain that we moved to the school, a couple of blocks up the street.

I made a mistake in my last post---the guy I thought was from Slovakia was actually from Serbia. I don't know how to spell his name but it sounds like "Dragon." He's a nice guy. His son was there in the park, playing soccer with the other kids, who were a mish-mash of different national origins. The boy was about ten. I sat on the bench and introduced myself, in German, and he answered back in German, though he still lives in Serbia and was only visiting.

Dragon told me he's been here about five months. His mom lives here, as does his brother and the brother's family. He isn't working right now but hopes to find work soon---and, I suppose, move his family here. The thing I admire about the guy is that he's really trying to get ahead and assimilate, unlike a lot of immigrants who insist on basically bringing their culture here and not deviating from it, sometimes to the extent of not even learning how to speak German. Fuck that shit---if you move to a country, learn the goddamned language. No excuses, no bullshit. Learn. The. Language, period. And Dragon is learning it. He already speaks Serbian, of course, as well as some Russian and English and German. During class I noticed he kind of participated in the lesson but then sat next to one of the teachers and took his dictionary and a piece of paper out, and began asking her a bunch of questions, essentially getting a private lesson. Good for him. 

The German language has "cases"---nominative, accusative, genitive, and dative. I have no fucking idea what these things are or how to wrap my mind around them, though I'm trying. But Dragon told me Serbian has seven cases (!). B already told me Latin has six. This case bullshit is my biggest stumbling block because the case that a sentence "is in" determines what article you assign to it. 

For instance, in English we say "a truck hit a pedestrian" or "a pedestrian was hit by a truck" or "I saw a truck hit a pedestrian." A truck or a pedestrian or a chucklehead, or whatever. But in German, there are several ways to say "a" but only one of them is right and it depends on the case! And if you use the word "the" instead of "a", the same thing applies---there are several ways to say "the" but only one of them will be right. And I can never figure out which fucking case a sentence is in so I always end up sounding like a two year old when I talk.

Anyhow. At 5 the lessons concluded and we stepped out into--a rainstorm. Walked several blocks to the subway station, changed trains a few stops later, and when I exited the second station the rain was pouring down, Oklahoma-hard. I popped the umbrella and trotted over to the enclosed bus stop. It was really pouring...

B made a nice casserole for dinner, then we went out into the rainy night for drinks with friends. Got home about 10:30, popped a bottle of white, and sat in the living room enjoying the sound of the rain outside.

Big Hike In The Mountains

Woke up early (!!!) and drove to B's dad's house. We jumped into his car and drove about 90 minutes outside of Vienna to the Alps, a place where the mountains are big, but not gigantic and the altitude is still relatively low, a little under 6,000ft at the most.

Heinrich is an interesting guy. A lifelong wanderer. And why not? With so many outdoor things to do in Vienna and just outside Vienna, people here just kind of...take to the mountains. But Heinrich has a problem: he's 84 and those of his friends still alive aren't too eager to get up out of the recliner, much less schlepp themselves all over the mountains on a long hike. So he's been losing his conditioning. Working in the garden ain't like running through the mountains.

We went to the Ötscher area SW of Vienna. There's a river running through a canyon and the path follows this river. At places the path is very narrow and the river is 20 - 60 feet below. It'd be a hell of a fall onto the rocks.

In other places there are little bridges, mostly of wood, usually with no handrails. You just walk along and try not to think about it. Those bridges that cross the river do have rails, and over the long stretches they're made of steel.

So. A rushing river on one side, and on the other side a mountain---sometimes forested, sometimes just bare rock. Lots of beautiful little mountain flowers, lots of butterflies and bees.

Enlarge this view to get a sense of scale. Note metal footbridge in lower center of pic.

This gives you an idea of the paths and bridges. Note wooden bridge in lower left

where the woman has just come from. These span breaks in the trail. 

No handrails. Watch your step or get wet.

Enlarge this and you'll see a high metal electrical tower almost invisible in front of the trees on the right. Walk far enough and you come to an old hydroelectric plant these power lines originate from. It was built to power an electric narrow gauge railroad that runs through these mountains. Again, scale---the tower is probably 50 feet high, or more.

Mountain flowers.

Our destination was a little lodge at the end of the trail where we could sit, have a drink, and rest up for the walk back. But Heinrich got kind of tired about two hours into the walk, and with another hour or more to go, the rest, and the three hours back, we decided just to walk ahead ourselves, B and I, leaving Heinrich to rest on a bench. We walked about thirty minutes ahead then turned around and walked back to where we'd left the old man.

Sat there and had a snack and some water, then walked back to the car. In spots it was steep and slippery with loose rock and sand, so I helped steady Heinrich when necessary, which wasn't often. The guy is tough. When he was my age he could've run through these mountains like a bighorn ram.

I started feeling tired myself by the time we were back to the car. We drove through the winding roads to a little Gasthof, where we had a delicious meal. Delicious and filling, because on the way home I fell asleep in the car, completely wasted. My muscles weren't sore but I was exhausted, as if someone had slipped three or four sleeping pills into my lunch.

B and I finally got home about 6:30. We were supposed to meet friends but I was too wasted. She went on alone. I laid on the couch watching TV---watched Errol Morris' excellent THE FOG OF WAR again, and some other stuff. I couldn't move.

B came home about 11:30 and laughed at me, sprawled out on the couch. "Did the Austrian Alps exhaust you?" she asked.

"I think it was an Austrian woman, actually."

Here's a video an Austrian couple made of their hike through the park; 

it more or less duplicates our hike.

German Lessons & Birthday Wishes to Jim

B noticed in the paper last week that the city of Vienna gives free German lessons in four different parks throughout the city for several weeks during the summer. Unfortunately the newspaper only saw fit to print this after the lessons had been underway for some weeks, and there's only a week to go.

However, I wanted to try it out so today I took the subway to the 16th District, a heavily Turkish part of town.

I had a few hours to kill and wanted to get the lay of the land. First stop: a big outdoor market that stretches three or four blocks. All kinds of food and products here. I saw a vest I might buy later, one of those vests with a lot of pockets.

Strolled around quite a while. Bought a postcard, then found a Greek restaurant on a quiet street, on the shady side of the street. Went inside, ordered a beer and something to eat. Sat outside sipping the beer and writing the postcard, then ate and sat there awhile finishing the beer and watching the world go by. Had deep thoughts, which I'll spare you for now.

I went back to the little park where the lessons were to be given. A few women were setting up the tables, and a marker board. I was a bit early so I introduced myself, then sat on a bench sipping water and watching the (Turkish) kids playing.

The city of Vienna gives these lessons because there's been a huge influx of people from other countries, legal and otherwise, who can't speak German. This is especially true among women immigrants, many of whom don't have or want jobs but nevertheless have to navigate Austrian society, at least to some degree.

There were two picnic tables set up for the students. At my table was a guy from Slovakia, a guy from Chechnya, two women from Turkey, and a woman from Egypt. At the other table was a guy from Hungary, a guy from Ghana, and a few other people whose origins I didn't catch.

It was a beautiful day, about 80 F., and the teachers (two women and a man) took turns giving the lessons. Everything was discussed in German. I don't know how many students have been there from the start and how many were newcomers like me, but me and the Slovakian guy seemed the most knowledgeable at our table. Everyone helped each other when we could.

First they asked us our names, and where we were from. Then they asked a few questions about where we were from: was it a big country or a small country? Was our hometown big or small? How hot or cold does it get where we're from?

We learned, by reading the weather page of a free newspaper that showed a map of Austria:

1) The names of the various Austrian provinces, and their provincial capital cities.
2) The names and approximate locations of the countries surrounding Austria.
3) How to ask questions about the weather, and answer them.

I really had a good time. B predicted that if I ever moved here, I'd meet a lot of immigrants at my (mandatory!) language lessons. "You'd be bringing home Albanians, Serbians, Croats, Romanians..."

"All the -anians, yes."

Sure enough. I bet if I'd been there from the beginning, a few of us would be having beers together after class and learning about each other's countries. (During a break the Slovakian guy asked me about "snakes that make noise to warn." Rattlesnakes. I explained as best I could. Mainly: don't step on one of the fuckers.)

Class lasted from about 2:30 - 5 PM. Took the subway home, then made an excellent Tom Yum soup, with rice.

Next German lesson is Thursday, then next week on Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday. Then it's done for the summer. It was a lot of fun, and I learned a few things.

-----

Today is my father's birthday. He would have been 81 this year, but he died last July a few weeks short of his 80th birthday.

He was a good man, a straight shooter, and a pretty good dad. Unfortunately I didn't really know him as well as I wanted to, partly because that's how guys of his generation were and partly due to his upbringing, when he was "encouraged" by his mom to be seen and not heard. Getting to really know him, I realize, would have been pretty much impossible.

Mom died in '92 and Dad was never really the same after. Neither he or I are religious, or even "spiritual," whatever the fuck that might be, but Mom was a devout Catholic and believed in an afterlife.

Sipping my beer at lunch and thinking about all this, I found myself hoping that Dad and I are wrong and Mom was right, and they get to be together, young again, without kids to raise or money troubles or health problems or jobs to worry about. No two people I've ever known would deserve it more.

Happy Birthday, old man. And thanks for everything.

A Walk In The Vineyards

Cloudy and cool today. High about 70 F.

We pretty much did nothing today, except take a walk in the vineyards north of B's place. Found a small Heuriger that was open...sat down and we drank a grape juice mixed with sparkling water.

What we saw, below. (Click on pics to enlarge)

An old wine press at the entrance to the Heuriger.

Walking along, we saw a bunch of beehives in a small field.
A closeup of Hive #2. Note bees, and garden gnome. There were about ten hives in all.

Check out this very cool tiled house! A creek runs alongside the path to the vineyards.
Across the creek is a wooden bridge leading to a small compound where some sort of
Zen Buddhist dude lives---there are prayer flags everywhere, a tree house, a water wheel that spins a prayer wheel, etc. There are a few small buildings on the property.
We think this is new--his house?

If you take the long looping road you come up behind the guy's land.
I zoomed in to get this pic of the top and rear of the guy's house.
I think my buddy, the noted Zen Man MCARP, should have a place like this.

Vineyards. Vienna. A non-shitty vista.

Why don't they build modern houses like this in Oklahoma,
instead of the shit we usually build?

We came to a vineyard with plaques on the vines---each with the name of someone who had sponsored a vine, I guess. Actors, bigshots in the Catholic church, royalty from different countries, sports figures. Here we have the Bill Clinton grapevine. Looks more or less healthy to me.

Here's the Barack Obama vine. Somewhat younger, but still with good leaves, etc.

Huh. The George W. Bush vine doesn't have any leaves on it, and looks kind of stunted. WTF?

Flea Market and an Unusual Movie

B's dad bought a DVD player-recorder for the TV. He couldn't get it to work so he asked me if I could come over, see if I could get it running.

I got there about 11. There's a flea market near his house, held on the grounds of a soccer field every Sunday. Before we started on the DVD recorder, he wanted to take me there so we walked over. This is a side of Vienna I haven't seen---the immigrant population side.

Just like in American flea markets, there was every kind of crap for sale. Ancient computers and computer parts...I saw laptops twice as big as the kind we have now. Piles of power supplies. Old cell phones that probably don't even work any more. Old clothes and shoes. Plumbing parts---some new, some salvaged.

One guy was selling hydraulic hoses and connections, the kind you might find on farm equipment. I thought: where the hell did he get this stuff, and who the hell does he think is going to buy it?! Some random farmer or Bobcat operator?

I saw Albanians, Romanians, Serbs, Croats, Hungarians, Turks, a lot of gypsy-looking people...and few Austrians, neither among the sellers or the browsers. Austria is not an immigrant nation like the US, but once the old East Bloc opened up and a couple of their countries joined the EU, the flood began. Old timers like B's dad were used to a homogenous population, more or less, and they don't quite know how to wrap their minds around the growing number of non-Austrians.

From my standpoint, another strange observation---it felt kind of odd not seeing a single Mexican.

The flea market. Junk, junk, and more junk for sale.

As for the DVD player-recorder: we figured out how to play a DVD, but trying to figure out how to record one from the TV signal was like trying to overhaul the space shuttle. We experienced mission failure and after a few hours I went home, offering to read the entire manual in the meantime (which was in English) and try again soon.

That night we joined our friends Peter and Vivian for a movie----I Love You, Phillip Morris starring Jim Carrey and Ewan McGregor. I knew nothing about the film except that Jim and Ewan play a gay couple.

But I found out the film 1) was based on a true story of a man who meets his boyfriend in prison, and becomes an extraordinary con-man and escape artist in order to maintain his relationship with the guy, and 2) was considered too homo-erotic to be released in the US. Even after being re-edited. Though the film was shot last year and was originally scheduled for release in the US in April of this year, the distributor got squeamish. It's now scheduled for release in October 2010. We'll see.

Jim Carrey is a pretty good actor. Too bad his rubber-faced antics kind of carry over into this film, sometimes, because he really doesn't need that over the top shtick---he does just fine in serious roles.

My only problems with the film were 1) it seemed to start off kind of like a comedy but then went to a drama, and 2) I did think the scenes of Jim and Ewan kissing and prancing around were a bit too much. OK, we get it---they're gay and they love each other. How many fucking times do they have to kiss each other on screen? What's the point of it? It did seem it was done mostly for homo-erotic purposes instead of to propel the story along. Like hetero nude scenes---most of the time they're in the movie just so you can see the actress naked, NOT because it does anything for the story.

I have no problems with human sexuality, gay or straight, but all I could think of while watching Jim and Ewan kiss, simulate blow jobs, and so on, was: "I wouldn't do that scene if they paid me $100 million. No. Fucking. Way."

Still, for the rest of it, the film was well done, the story was good, and it could have stood as a drama on its own. 

All in all I give it 7.5 Bratwursts out of a possible 10 Bratwursts, in my Bratwurst Film Rating system.

When the movie was over, we emerged to a rainy Vienna night.

Things I Saw Saturday

B and I went to a farmer's market Saturday morning. Then she went home and I roamed around with my camera for several hours. Then we went to dinner with her parents and her sister, but I've written way too much about food as it is. So, just pictures today. Click to enlarge.

Farmer's market. I like this one better than the huge Naschmarkt.

Guess: are these fine meats made from beef or pork? Nope---horse! No kidding.

Guy on right: "Yes, my hat is big. But let me show you this, my friend!"

Guy on left: "OY GEVALT!!!"

Where the ham is never on sale.

The Space Invaders, having grown tired of being a crappy 8-bit video game, 

turn their considerable talents to activism in Vienna. Stickers I saw on trash bins.

This is unremarkable except that in Vienna, these things are street legal. Note license plate.

The Stadtpark on a cloudy and cool summer (!) day.

Friday: Birthday Fun & We've All Been There, Dude

B's birthday Friday!

This morning she said, in reflection, feeling fortunate: "So many women my age have to endure a stale relationship..."

In my Jethro Bodine-esque attempt to show her all the wonderful possibilities life has to offer I said: "There's still plenty of time for us to develop a stale relationship."

Laughs all around. I am ever the optimist.

For her birthday, we went to the Badegrund for a swim. It might be the last time for a while because a cool front moved in late last night. As I write this Saturday AM, the wind is blowing Oklahoma-hard outside, the tall trees swaying around with a loud WHISH! of the leaves, and the temps are pleasant----it's about 64 F right now. Highs in the 60s, low 70s the next five days or so. Sorry, Oklahoma. I don't make the rules, or the weather.

There was a dog at the Badegrund, a golden retriever. He jumped in the water with his people and swam happily around. A young animal, feeling alive. I tried to imagine my cat swimming----no. Cats can swim but they hate being in the water.

I only swam once, then sat around reading and writing. Dozed off once. I have a real problem just sitting around. Certain people close to me have been inactive, chronically so, and as far as I'm concerned that's slow death. (And this, coming from one of the laziest bastards you'll ever meet!) Still, I think you have to keep your mind and your body moving and I'm a bit concerned I could end up being Mr. Lethargic, instead of Mr. Dynamic Old Dude. So sitting around at the lake or the beach or whatever is something I can do only in limited doses.

-----

There's a restaurant around the corner called Pfarrwirt. It's the oldest restaurant in Vienna--the original part of the structure dates from 1180. B, her family, and I ate there once several years ago but were underwhelmed, mostly by the shitty service. But we learned the place had undergone an overhaul and they were dedicated to improving the mistakes of the previous management, so we took a chance.

The beautiful courtyard of the Pfarrwirt

It was pleasant outside by this time of day so we sat in the huge courtyard. Trees and bushes and flowers everywhere. The waitstaff was gathered around a large chestnut tree where they'd set up a table with the wine glasses, plates, etc. They were very friendly and professional and it looked like it was going to be a pretty good evening.

We ordered our drinks. B's soup came---a cold tomato soup. Delicious.

Then the youngest and obviously newest of the waiters walked up with our food. It looked really appetizing. He set B's plate down----

---then, by some sudden gust of gravity or something, he spilled my food all over the tablecloth, my camera, and the ground next to me. Through some miracle it missed my lap and my shirt. There was my chicken in paprika sauce, laying on the gravel, looking up at me. "You can't eat me now, fucker!" it seemed to say.

I instantly felt bad for the young man. He was about 20, and we found out later he was a new waiter in training. He grabbed my camera and began wiping the sauce off of it. Sweat popped out all over his forehead, though it wasn't hot outside. I could tell he was trying frantically to make things right, while at the same time expecting to be yelled at. I told him, "Don't worry about it, man---machts nix. Kein problem!" Because we've all been young and done embarrassing things, often far worse than what this guy did.

The lady manager came over and moved us to the next table over. I told her: "Please tell the young man it's OK. We're not mad at him, and we don't want him getting into any trouble over this. No big deal."

Over the next few minutes we were visited by an older more experienced waiter, and the lady manager, who spoke excellent English. I think they were relieved we were so relaxed about everything. B explained to me that in this district, with all its pretentious assholes and big shots, the wait-staff had expected a big scene from us (not knowing we're just non-pretentious assholes and little shots.)

"When something like this happens, people immediately think of their own big mistakes," the lady said, laughing. "It brings back uncomfortable memories and we can relate."

I said: "This was nothing compared to the hundreds of mistakes he'll make with the women in his life."

The sauce was slippery and the dish was shallow, and gravity? It can be a bitch.

In about ten minutes the same young waiter came back with my second plate of food, and everything was perfect. He wasn't going to spill that food even if a pit bull was munching on his ass and Hitler's ghost was screaming at him. Good job, dude.

So we ate and talked and had a good time. Eventually I asked for the bill. The manager lady came over and said: "No charge tonight."

"Hey, we had a good meal and a good time and we expect to pay---that little incident didn't hurt our fun tonight." But she graciously insisted. Wow. Instant savings of about 40 Euro! The lady told B she appreciated our good attitude about everything.

I left the young man a 10 Euro tip.

Her Teeth Nearly Flew Out of Her Mouth

Last night we went out to dinner.

If you walk down this street...

...you come to this patio...

...and sit under this canopy of grape vines...

...with these people...

...and eat this.

It was "grill night" at the Brummbaerli restaurant. Needless to say I fell way off the vegetarian wagon; had two pieces of grilled pork, a grilled steak, a baked potato the size of a Zeppelin, a large beer, and finally a schnapps (complements of the house.) B. had something similar. We each took about 1/3 of this home in a doggie bag.

The food was great but the most fun were our tablemates. The patio was crowded so we had to share a table with strangers. The woman was plump, in her early 60s, and the guy was kind of portly with a salt and pepper beard, wearing a multi-pocket vest. He looked rather like a trucker.

It was jabbering in German all the way, with B. occasionally telling me what was said. Here's what I observed / learned:

1) These two could eat. They cleaned their plates (no doggie bags) and drank at least three beers each, along with a mineral water between each beer. Then the schnapps. Then a final beer.

2) Turns out the lady lives down the street from B, over a laundry. Not sure what she does for a living, but she likes to walk dogs on the side. Her dog, and a few "client" dogs.

3) She's the local gossip. She knew who was fucking who, who had trouble with the tax authorities, the history of the street, and all kinds of other stuff. 

The guy and I sat on one side, the women on the opposite side of the table. Every so often I'd look over at the jabbering woman and I was shocked to see her upper dentures moving around, unable to stay locked in place due to the sheer centrifugal force of the spirited, gossipy jibber-jabber. No mere Polident could contain them---I think she needed some JB Weld or some other kind of industrial adhesive.

But we enjoyed these people because they were down to earth, the kind B. says you used to run into in Vienna, before everyone got all pretentious and uppity and bourgeois, like they are now. (Or as my black friends say, "boo-zhee.") The people in B's building would hardly have been so open, had they suffered the indignity of having us sit at their table with them. They're all "professionals" who make it a point to include their titles alongside their names on the mailbox or on their door so you know their importance. With the exception of B's next door neighbors, who are good people (and, not coincidentally, mere high school graduates) the rest of the Yuppizoidal Ooze in the 19th District wouldn't know how to cope with our table mates. Or us either, for that matter.

But man. It was all I could do to keep from running to the local drug store to pick up a tube of denture adhesive for that lady. She could barely keep her teeth in her head.

Walked back to B's. Put the spare food in the fridge. Cracked a cold bottle of white. Watched the first few minutes of Democracy Now! then went to bed.

Slept late.

-----

Hot today---low 90s. No A/C, of course. Went to the Badegrund and went swimming / laid around reading.

I sketched out a compost bin made with bamboo poles. Will try to make it when I get home, or some facsimile thereof. Went by IKEA on the way home to pick up some herring and those great Swedish potato chips they have.

Hit a traffic jam on the way home---stuck there, sweating like hell, until we could exit and figure out a detour. Turns out it got so hot some asphalt on the highway miles ahead had caved in, and the repair work caused the big jam-up.

But! There's a cool front moving in soon, and the highs some days next week won't exceed 70 F.

Watching The Ships Come In

Kind of a lazy day.

This afternoon I took a walk along the Danube (not to be confused with the Danube Canal, which I walked along yesterday.)

There was the usual pedestrian and bicycle activity, and people fishing and sunbathing and sitting on benches overlooking the river. I've walked here before when very little was going on---on the river itself. (There are always bicyclists and joggers and walkers on the path alongside the river, even in winter.) But today there was a fair amount of cruise ship and barge traffic, as well as a few private boats zooming down river.

There were also a couple of large river cruise ships moored along the path. I sat there drinking a beer and writing in my notebook...and to the sound of my fellow beer drinkers jabbering suddenly another ship, the Diana, pulled in.

For a guy who lives in a place where there's no boat traffic to speak of, except for rednecks who tow their boats and jet-skis "to the lake," it's interesting to watch river life. I guess the Diana cruises up and down the river, stopping at certain places so people can get off and ride bikes (provided by the ship) along the river. Indeed, when it pulled in a lot of people started rolling their bikes up the gangplank, and there were probably 150 blue bikes already stacked on the deck.

Click on any pic to enlarge.

I see this old ship every time I'm in Vienna. I'm pretty sure it hasn't moved in years.

Its name means "Devil's Bridge."

Watching the Diana come in.

Mooring in progress. The helmsman was a real pro, getting this big ship docked.

The ghost of Henry Miller (all praise be unto him!) supervises the lowering of the gangplank.

Gangplank lowerfication, Part Two.

Gangplank fully lowerfied.

The Diana and two of her crew at rest along the Danube.

About to cast off again, going upriver.

John X's Solo Abenteuer (Solo Adventure)

We went out last night.

This morning B. had to go to the dentist and could not find her car keys. They'd vanished. She ended up rescheduling her appointment for next month...

My plan was to roam around by myself today. They have different public transportation passes here. Today I used the "24 Hour Card." It costs 5.70 Euro, as opposed to 1.80 Euro if you buy one ticket at a time. The way this card works is, it's good for unlimited bus, streetcar, and subway rides for 24 hours from the time you first use it. (You validate the card when you get on the first vehicle.)

I used this thing to drive all over the fucking place today. I started by going to the other end of town, to B.'s parents' place, to pick up the spare car key her dad had. They were surprised to see me. Me, on the other hand, I was happy to have remembered how to get to their place using public transportation.

Visited with the parents in the back yard, and scored three fresh apples, three hot peppers, and a raspberry (one, singular) from the garden.

Then I took the subway and a couple of trams all over the place. But mostly I walked, snapping pics along the way. Had my backpack with me, and two full containers of water, so I spent almost nothing while roaming around---2 Euro for a slice of pizza and a can of Lipton Ice Tea, and another Euro I threw into a sax player's hat. He was playing jazz under a bridge along the Danube Canal (pic below.)

I left about noon, got home about 6:45. I must have logged 6-10 miles of walking. Got back to find out B. had finally found her car key after hours of searching---she'd worn two different pairs of pants yesterday but forgot about the second pair, the one with the keys still in the pocket from last night's outing. But she was happy I'd schlepped my helpless American ass all the way to Simmering to fetch the spare key. I was the Big Hero.

Walked down to the Mayer heurige to turn in the old wine bottles and buy another couple of bottles of their excellent white. B. made an excellent appetizer for supper, and I made the main course (pics at the end.)

So: here are a few things little Johnny X saw on this warm summer day in Vienna.

Click on any pic to enlargify.

 You're invited to taste their meat.

The Gasometer complex. Now converted to apartments and shopping.

If your kung-fu cannot be strong, your tung-fu should be.

Graffiti on the Danube Canal: "And then Mother Earth will eat us all."

For my paisano John M.---a joint along the Danube Canal.

Tragically hip and relaxed along the Danube Canal.

Uh, not really. But I'll do further research.

Not really sure what she was looking for.

But I was sure she didn't want my help finding it.

Jesus' mommy in a gas mask. Not something you see everyday.

A neat old iron (or steel?) bridge over the Danube Canal.

I saw a guy painting grafitti. He stepped aside for a moment so I could shoot this.

I heard this guy before I saw him. He was playing Brubeck's "Take Five."

I threw a Euro into his hat. He stopped playing a moment to say "Danke."

The acoustics under the bridge were really good. Not to mention the shade.

Zen Man playing his flute on a foot\bike bridge, crossing the Danube Canal.

See Spot. See Spot's asshole.

Lots of dogs and their, uh, you know along the Danube Canal.

The Viennese are very active outdoors.

They enjoy activities such as this...

...and this. I turned these people in to the Polizei for illegal kissing.

Their fine was 500 Euro. 

No, not really. It was only 400.

Believe it or not, this plant designed by famous Austrian artist

Hundertwasser is used to convert burned trash into heat. Enlarge

the pic and check out the cool tower!

When you get home after a long day of hiking and voyeurism, you want something like this waiting for you. B made this excellent appetizer out of fresh tomatoes, basil, and buffalo mozzarella.
I need to make some of this for one of my famous bi-weekly dinner parties.

And this pasta dish is what I made for us tonight.