Too Tired To Post Much

Test results: I got 95 points out of a possible 100 on my "Are You Smarter Than An Austrian 5-Year-Old" test. Surprising. Passing grade was 60. I meet and exceed, etc. etc. etc.
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I visited my pal Thomas The Bookbinder after picking up my test certificate today. We sat next door at the Gasthaus while he ate and I drank and we talked. I loaned him a couple of CDs to listen to until we meet again. I meant to take a lot of pics of his shop and him but I forgot. Next time.
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Grafitti. B says its a pun and basically not translatable.

"Secure at making people insecure" is the best she could do.

When I dug out money to pay the bill, I came across some dollars. Thomas hasn't seen American money so I let him look through it. There was a twenty there. "Do you know about Andrew Jackson?" I asked. 

"No."

"He liked to murder Indians," I said. "So let me show you what I do with Mr. Jackson." I took out a pen and made a word balloon next to Jackon's head that said "I MURDER INDIANS." Then I drew a Hitler mustache on Jackson and wrote the numerals 666 on his forehead.

"What means '666'?" Thomas asked. (He knew what meant the mustache.)

So I told him the story of The Rapture or The Rupture or whatever the fuck it's called, and the so-called Mark Of The Beast, and that other comic book bullshit from the Bible about the "End Times." 

"Do people really believe in this?" Thomas asked.

"Buddy, you wouldn't believe what people believe in the good ol' USA."

"Maybe it is good you are moving to Austria," he said.

"No maybe about it, man...."

The Big Test

It rained Monday in Vienna, which we were happy to see after a week on bone-dry Santorini.

I didn't sleep well Monday night, for whatever reason...woke about 4 and got only ten minutes or so of sleep (and a very strange dream, but I'll spare you) until the alarm went off at 6. Today was the day of the big test I had to pass in order to be eligible for residency in Austria. If I were to fail, I'd have another chance, but not before I leave and the timing of things is such that I want to get all my paperwork submitted before flying back to the states.
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I took a bus and a couple of subway rides and arrived at the big, multi-story glass building where the test is administered. Surprised myself by finding the section, the floor, and the room where the test was to be given. I arrived early and watched my fellow test-takers file in---looked like three from Africa, one from India, a few from Asia, and the rest appeared to be Eastern European. I was the only American (again) and the oldest person (again.) Just like in German class. All told, there were about 16 people there.

You go in, hand them a picture ID, and initial a form with your name on it. They keep your ID until the end of the test. You take a seat at one of the desks. When everyone is checked in, the test starts.

The test is in four phases. 1) reading comprehension 2) listening comprehension 3) writing 4) conversation.

The first two were simple. For example, they show six ads from a newspaper, numbered 1 - 6. Then there are five questions, like: "You want to hire a clown for your son's birthday party. Which company would you call?"

The next exercise is, they show three ads. Each has 2 true-false questions next to it. You read the ad, then answer the questions, for instance: "Is it possible for people to visit this museum on Tuesdays?" Simple shit. I mean, even if you guessed you'd have a 50-50 chance.

Listening comprehension? Three exercises.

They show six pictures with little scenarios in them, like two guys having lunch or a young woman helping her grandma use a computer. Then they play five audio vignettes. You listen and then match Audio Vignette 1 with its proper photo, Vignette 2 with its proper photo, and so on. Again, simple---because there are two scenarios involving two men together, two involving two women together, and two involving a man and woman together. All you have to do is listen to the audio vignette and hear if it's (for instance) a man and a woman talking, and even if you guessed you'd have a 50-50 chance. You could do it if they were speaking Sanskrit, or Klingon, for fuck's sake.

Next audo exercise: They show four different plates of breakfast foods. On the tape, a guy asks: "What do you like to eat for breakfast?" and then the first guy comes on and speaks for about 15 seconds saying what he likes. All you have to do is listen for the key word, like "eggs," then put a check by the eggs. And so on through each of the people who talk about their breakfast preferences. Still, even if you guessed you'd average 25% right.

Then you listen (twice) to an answering machine message where a woman wants to make an appointment to have her washing machine fixed. You fill in the blanks on the appointment form, as if you're the secretary at the repair shop. Again, easy----fill in the time, the date, the day of the week, and the street where she lives.

Next one's a little harder because it involves active communication, not just comprehension. You get an email from a friend, who wants your help arranging a birthday party for a mutual friend. You have to read the email, then write back with answers to three questions: where do we have the party, how many people do we invite, and what do we buy for a gift? I'm certain I fractured this, grammatically, but at the same time made it clear what I meant.

The teacher says: "Now we're taking a break. You'll come back this afternoon for the conversation part of the test, between 12 and 2 PM." She spaced this part of the test out at ten minute intervals. Guess who had the very last appointment, at 2.

So I wandered around for three hours, ate lunch, bought some bread to take home. Then back to the building early to wait my turn for the conversational phase.

There, also waiting, was one of my fellow testees (I love saying / writing that), a woman from Bosnia. She found the test a bit difficult. She asked me where I come from and when I told her, she started speaking in pretty good English, which she said she'd learned watching television. I've heard of people doing this, but all I can say is, you must have to watch a shitload of TV, most of it horrible, to learn English this way.

She also speaks Bosnian, Russian, a bit of Arabic, and a bit of Italian. But she didn't want to have to learn German (even though she wants to move to Austria) and thinks the language sounds "harsh." True. But I said: "They speak German in Austria; I don't mind learning German if I'm going to live here."

"But everyone here also already speaks English!" Which isn't true, though a lot of people do. I thought: Shit, just move to an English-speaking country then, and you'll be good to go.

Finally they called me in for my conversation. First they show you two pieces of paper. One says: Family, hobbies, sports, food you like, your job, etc. You're supposed to pick four of these things to talk about with your conversation partner, who's one of the examiners.

The other showed three pictures: a man and woman cooking something, two guys on a plane being served drinks by the flight attendent, and a guy in a clothing store looking at a sweater while the clerk helps him. You were supposed to look at these and figure out something to say about the scenarios.

The guy came in and said: "Are you ready?" Except I didn't know he said that because I don't know the word for "ready," but the lady who was babysitting me until this guy arrived asked me again in a way I could understand. So I followed the guy into another room. There was another woman sitting there----a witness, or just someone grading papers?

The guy took out a tape recorder, started it, and put it on the table. He started off by asking my name and then asked me to pick one of the topics and start talking about it. I did, and he'd ask questions, then he picked a topic ("What do you like to eat?") and so on. I think it went OK.

Then the three scenarios, but I lucked out----I got to choose one of the three. A good thing, because I don't know the words for "flight attendant" or "clothing store clerk" but I do know how to jabber about shit that goes on in the kitchen, so I chose the "two people cooking together" scenario and talked about it awhile.

I was too tired from lack of sleep to be nervous and I think the guy was tired of hearing fractured German all day long, so he quickly wrapped up our mesmerizing conversation about the nature of garlic creme soup and told me I was finished.
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An hour or so after returning home we got a call from the place, telling me I passed the test and I can pick up my certificate tomorrow afternoon. Then I can add the certificate to the stack of paperwork we have to turn in before I go back home, and maybe sometime in the next who the hell knows how long, they'll tell me if I can move here.

Sunday: Last Day On The Island

We fly home tomorrow, early. This was our last day and I imagine the last time I'll ever see this place...
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We climbed on board our rented quad about 11:30 this morning, headed for our beach. It was windy and we wondered what the sea would be like...driving the coast road, we saw lots of whitecaps.

But I also saw a low-fuel indicator blinking on the dash panel. Unlike in the US, when you rent a vehicle here, it might not come with a full tank. We'd started off with a quarter tank, but the tanks on these quads are tiny. So now what? Gas stations are few and far between on the island. Instead of going back to Oia and hoping to find a station, we decided to drive to Thira where we knew there were stations. So along the coast we flew, then eventually began the climb from more or less sea level to Thira level, maybe a 700 foot vertical climb. The little quad with the mushy brakes moved right along.

An interesting sight along the way, and I wish I'd stopped for a picture: a man with a donkey, its back loaded with plastic crates full of grapes. A bit farther down the road, a big stack of these crates. I guess the guy takes his donkey into the field (because grapes grow like bushes on the ground here, not on stretched wire like in proper vineyards), picks the grapes, puts them into the donkey's crates, and when he gets three or four full crates, walks them back for pickup by a truck or something. It's the old version of Greece B says is dying out.

We got to Thira, but not the busy main street which is such a madhouse of scooters, pedestrians, quads, cars, busses, and big trucks. We asked for directions to the gas station, me miming someone filling a tank. "That way," she said, pointing. That way ten miles, or what? It's all Greek to me. We went "that way." Found the station, got the gas, hit the road back to the beach.
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But this time, with a full tank, we explored a bit. We took a road that seemed to lead down to the water (and none of these roads has anything resembling a name---or if they do, they don't bother putting up a sign) and we came to a beach, basically empty. But the winds were high and the waves were pretty big and broke pretty hard. Still, we set up camp. B even went out once and said the water was really warm---too bad we hadn't discovered this beach days ago, when the waves were calmer.
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After an hour or so we took off. It was a nice ride along the coast road, with nobody behind us trying to pass or run up our ass. We passed our regular beach, because its waves were large and choppy, in favor of the beach we'd visited the first day. When we got there, the waves were more managable so we set up our blankets and smeared the sunscreen on and lingered, listening to the sound of the crashing waves, swimming, and watching the others. A fine afternoon.
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We drove back to Oia and turned the quad in at the rental agency. We've dealt with the same young man when we rented the car and the quad, and half the time when we walk in he's eating. But he's stuck there 12 hours a day so when else is he gonna eat? The process of returning a rental is weirdly simple: you just walk in and give him the keys. He doesn't bother inspecting the vehicle or anything. Just "thank you,"and back to his French fries. OK.
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We wrote some postcards then went to the PO to mail them, then walked over to the office to settle with the landlord. Silver hair, shirt open, very tanned, extremely laid baco. He sat at his desk writing a receipt that we'll never be able to read because it's in Greek. I asked him if I could take a photo of him and he agreed.

Then he called the cab company for us to arrange a pickup for early tomorrow morning.

There are things I can say about this guy but I'll save them for my friends back home when we meet in person. Let's just say B and I, while very happy with the setting and the view and the general state of our accomodations, had a bit of a feeling we were being smiled at, but only in a faux-friendly way by a character who could probably be pretty greasy if he wants to be. And I'll leave it at that.
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Contrast that to a stop we made at the outstandingly cool Atlantis Books, where I bought my very first book by Lawrence Durrell, a boon companion to the great Henry Miller during his Paris days. It's the coolest bookstore I've ever seen, at least insofar as the setting goes...check out the website and the Flickr page.

We talked to a young American from New York who finished school and came out to work after visiting the island a few years ago. He's staying a couple of months then flying home, to settle in Chicago. We asked him how he copes with the madness of the gathered tourists----he says you have to find your quiet, private places. He boats to nearby, non-touristic islands. Some of these are so close they're just a motorboat ride away, yet have no regularly scheduled ferries traveling there, which maddened B, who really wanted to visit nearby islands.

Back "home," we looked through the fridge and scrounged what leftovers we could for our final supper on the terrace. As the sun set we ate our remaining fruit, cheese, veggies, and drank a bottle of wine. B fed the yowling cats who came around, in defiance of the landlord.

This trip will live with me. There were many impressions, "good" and "bad." The main ingredient in the "good" category was B, with whom I've had many wonderful travels...none of what I saw or did on the island of Santorini would have been as memorable or as fun if not for the fact that B and I were doing it together.
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As I write this, it's Monday afternoon. This morning we awoke early, finished packing and eating and feeding the cats, and left for the airport.

The airport has a rooftop lounge. You can go up there, have a drink or a smoke, and watch the planes arrive and depart.

While we sat on the crowded roof watching a couple of planes get fueled and loaded, who showed up but a young cat, probably about 8 months old. A friendly boy. He walked over and let me pet him, then flopped down by my feet for a few minutes.

Then he wandered on, looking for whatever Greek cats seek.

Thirty minutes later we were in the air. 2.5 hours after that we were back in Vienna.

And that's how these things seem to unfold.