Goodbye, School Friends / A Night At Cafe Rudigerhof

Today was the last class....kind of sad. I've enjoyed the routine of going to class, seeing the other students, studying.

The homeless African guy was back at the U4 station this morning selling his papers. I pressed a coin into his hand, said good morning, kept walking.
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At the school, we got our test results. Of 88 possible points, I got 79. I'd have done better but I made a stupid mistake on one of the segments---you were supposed to say what object the person HAS, but I thought I was supposed to say what object they were LOOKING FOR, so I wrote the sentences wrong. Still, I passed, which means if I want to go to the next level I can. Unfortunately I'll have to wait until my next visit---upcoming events make it impossible for me to start school again next month.

We had one final lesson (separable prefix verbs---oy vey!) then the teacher gave a little speech in which she told us we'd been a good group and she'd had a good time. I think she was being honest----we have a friend who tells us many of these German teachers have students who have traumatic pasts, and sometimes the mere mention of an innocent word can trigger fits of crying in class because it reminds the students of some horror in their past. None of that with our group...

As a gift, I gave the teacher a bottle of wine and the Canadian guy gave her a box of chocolates. She seemed touched.

After class, a few of us hung around in the hallway for a few minutes, not really wanting to be done with our togetherness. We exchanged contact info, but I've done that often enough to know how it'll go---no contact will be made and we'll vanish in the haze of each others' memories as we go our separate ways.
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I got lunch at a pizza place. Mixed neighborhood, lots of immigrants, old guys meeting and sitting at the tables or on nearby benches, speaking languages I didn't understand (that is, not English.)

Time came to pay. The bill was 8 Euro. I gave the waiter a 20, he gave me 2 back, and made like he was finished. "Excuse me, I gave you a 20..." I couldn't tell if he was trying to cheat me or if it was an honest mistake, but I had the feeling it was the former. I got the proper change and crossed that restaurant off my list of places to eat.
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Having a routine this past month, I've noticed certain things as I walk along. One was the image of an old lady who lives across from the school, looking into a mirror while standing close to her window on the 2nd floor; I've seen this several times. She spends a lot of time gazing into that mirror, looking for---what?

She was there again this morning so I ran upstairs to the classroom, and took a shot downward from the 3rd floor, into her apartment...

Her morning ritual. She stares into the mirror for several minutes.
What is she hoping to see---or not see?

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We drove to Cafe Rudigerhof in the evening to meet our friends K and U.

Even after dark the city held the heat of the day. We sat outside on the spacious patio, eating and talking about things.

Part of the patio at Cafe Rudigerhof.

This is only about a third of the available seating space outdoors.
Not bad business for a Thursday night...

Some of the topics discussed over dinner and drinks:

PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION IN THE US: K was in Philadelphia for a week, then in NYC for a few days. He said: "They say public transportation in the US is no good, but it works very well in these cities. Efficient, reliable. But the stations and the trains are not attractive." In Vienna, there are crews of people who board the trains and sweep up, the trains are frequently washed, etc.

THE "SPEAK GERMAN" REQUIREMENT FOR IMMIGRATION: K didn't see the neccesity, but I do. If you're going to live in a place, learn the fucking language----period. But he says: "There is no need to force them. If they do not learn the language, they will not be able to get good jobs and this is motivation enough." Thing is, many immigrants aren't looking for a "good" job, they want ANY job, because any job is better than what they faced back in Kosovo or wherever. Also, forcing immigrants to learn German is one way to force vieled Muslim women more into the mainstream of society---which I think many of them want, but without being required to assimilate at least in some ways by law, these women can and often are kept virtual prisoners within their sub-community.

BUSINESS ON PARADE: K works at a small manufacturing plant owned by his family. The company has been in business many years. A few years ago, they were forced by EU regulations to move their operation from a building they owned, to a more modern building they had to rent. The enormous cost of doing this put the operation in financial trouble and it's been struggling ever since.

For the sake of privacy I won't say what they manufacture, but basically there are two lines of products: one that is very tightly regulated and controlled, and the other which is a lot less regulated. When the news came that they would have to move to continue producing both products, K suggested they stop producing the overly-regulated product and concentrate instead on the less-regulated product, so they could stay in their old, paid-for, low-overhead facility, because it could comply with existing regulations pertaining to the less-regulated product. But he was outvoted so they moved, borrowed a lot of money to make the expansion, etc.

So now they need a buyer. It's not as if they're producing obsolete products like manual typewriters, or something. Their products are in demand and they have contracts to produce these products for large retailers. But there's a "grow or die" thing in business and the question is: What happens when every small company or family farm that used to exist gets bought up (or killed) by, say, Google or Walmart? What does the One True Company then become "absorbed into?"

I thought of Thomas the Bookbinder, and how he's managed to make it by binding books for thirty years. He did it by contracting, not expanding. He went small, not big. Low overhead, and he's in an essentially unregulated business. No employees. Equipment that needn't be updated every two years. A cottage industry.

It was a good evening. We all agreed hard times, they might be a-comin' soon, so better drink up and laugh while the drinkin' and laughin' is good.

Seasick Steve

A guy named Jools Holland has a television show in England. Jools used to be with a group called Squeeze (you'll remember their big song "Tempted") and is a pretty damned good piano player in his own right, but his big contribution to the world of music is his show, which showcases a lot of great musicians you've never heard of.

A guy I'm glad I discovered on Jools' show is Seasick Steve. Below, the ex-hobo plays with John Paul Jones (who used to be the bassist for a band called Led Zeppelin) and some wildman drummer who I'd like to meet some day.

Notice Steve's weird cobbled-together "guitar." He's known for these home-made instruments.

Steve playing solo on a guitar with only three strings (!)  

Read Steve's bio. One thing about America, it produces some truly interesting eccentrics we can be proud of.

When you've got some spare time, get on YouTube and search Jools Holland's clips. Great talent on his show.

Wednesday: German Test

I studied until 10 PM last night for today's test.

On the way to the school, passing through the U4 subway station, I reached into my pocket and pulled out a 1 Euro coin. I've been giving the friendly, smiling homeless man who sells the newspapers a Euro each week, just for the sake of my own karma, and in appreciation for his friendly smile.

But for the first time in a month, he wasn't there. I missed seeing him. Hope he's there tomorrow...
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I ride one stop and transfer to the U6. While waiting for the train, I heard the same message I've been hearing since I got here, an announcment in German and English about the temporarily shortened U6 route (due to construction.) The English announcement said something to the effect of "reaching your final destination," and I thought: What's my final destination? What's anyone's "final destination?"

Star dust, maybe. Disincorporated atoms that attach themselves to molecules later on. Parts of us end up as a dog turd, a diamond, an ancient manuscript, or in the air that flies into Rick Perry's nose when he inhales. But of course, Rick Perry has never inhaled...
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The test was simple. Possible perfect score is 88 points, and you only need 44 to pass (!)

She allowed about an hour for the test but most of us finished in less than 30 minutes. We get our scores tomorrow.

Those of us who finished early gathered in the hall. I found myself with the three Africans---a man from Nigeria, a man from Gambia, and a woman from Congo. All very nice people, and they all speak English as well as at least one other language.

Africans have it a bit tough in Europe. Europe isn't used to outsiders but for the last forty years or so there have been more and more outsiders streaming in. Hell, the Germans are swarming into Austria because their universities are filling up and they can't get admitted there, so they come to Austria. Which annoys the Austrians. But at least the Germans have a common language (allegedly, according to B) and aren't noticeably different. The Africans like me because I make it a point to greet each of them every day in a friendly way, accept their handshakes, smile and laugh with them. I grew up around African Americans and am comfortable with black people, and I think the Africans find it a relief not to have to wonder if somebody dislikes them just because they're outsiders. Hell, I'm an outsider. We all are, in this class...
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After class, I stood outside talking with my Serbian classmate. He's the 2nd oldest geezer in class, me being the oldest geezer.

His wife is Serbian by birth but has Austrian citizenship. They're newly married. She's been here 14 years. But Goran, he can only visit 90 days at a time then he has to go outside the EU (in has case, back to Belgrade) then re-enter for another 90 days. Same with me. Neither of us is a citizen of an EU country, though Serbia is trying to get in.(I'm not holding my breath that they'll admit the US to the EU, however.)

"Goran---next time I come here, if I'm not a legal resident yet, I'll stay 90 days then go back to Belgrade with you. You can show me around. We can get drunk, then come back to Vienna and re-start the clock."

"Ah, Mr. John, I do not drink alcohol!"

"Don't worry. I can drink enough for both of us."
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Goran took off. A few minutes later B pulled up. We were on our way to the swimmin' hole. It's another hot day in Vienna.

We went there, laid around, read, I studied some German and talked to B's mom and dad, we swam.

The most noteworthy thing to me was the behavior of the fish. They swim just under the surface and you can see them clearly. There are large carp about 2 feet long, as well as little fish, like minnows. They're constantly cruising for food and when one of the swimmers decides to throw some fish food in the water, it churns like it's boiling, the fish are so frenzied.

I was eating a sandwich. I tossed a couple of breadcrumbs in and noticed something:

The lucky fish closest to the offering was quick to grab the breadcrumb. But nearby fish noticed his sudden move toward the food, which in turn caused them to race for the crumb, which by then had already been gulped down. But then fish further out noticed this action and reacted to it in turn, moving in a kind of mini-frenzy, hoping they'd stumble upon a crumb or be able to intimidate the smaller fish who were hoping to latch on. This whole chain of events took maybe two seconds, and it was for one fucking crumb.

I repeated the process several times, fascinated by it, because it reminded me of something.

I thought: "Huh. A feeding frenzy. Just like that fucking Wall Street."