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kitewithfishThe morning of yesterday consisted of big nothing: I bought some groceries, but that was really about it.
At around 1pm, I looked up where I had to go to meet Christiane H., the former resident director of the Wellesley in Wien program, and it turned out the café was very close to Karlsplatz, where I normally take the train to school. So, it seemed like foot transportation was in order. Since I hadn't been there before, I gave myself plenty of time to get lost, and ended up at the café well before our meeting time. I found a little Buchhandlung where they had, joy of joys, the very popular set of cheap literature that you always see students reading, including a hell of a lot of Shakespeare in English with German footnotes, German, and volumes with both together. Burgtheater in Vienna, and I want to go see it and understand the German, I bought myself a little copy of King Lear/König Lear to peruse at my leisure. (The relationship of German-speakers to Shakespeare is sort of a mystery to me- he's incredibly popular in translation here, and every theatre had presented some of his works on a fairly regular basis. Very strange.)
Anyway, I killed time in the bookstore until it was time to head to the Café, where I still got there before the Christiane and stood outside waiting until I saw her beckoning to me through a window. Once I came inside, there passed several awkward minutes alone with her, in which she inquired minutely into the professors of my classes, and happened to mention that she had just been to the birthday party of one of them. It was then that Colleen called me, and we passed a few awkward minutes while I looked at my map and directed her how to get to the coffeehouse, while ignoring suggestions from Christiane that I could barely hear about how taking this or that Straßenbahn/U-bahn would be faster. Colleen came, finally, and was subjected to the same inquires about her classes. After that, Sarah, a Wellesley-alumna attending Wien Universität for graduate studies, came as well. Ana never showed up, though she did send me a text message asking the name of the cafe again. After that, she did not answer her phone or text messages, and we had to leave to get to the Konzerthaus in time.
So, we fled the Kaffeehaus and got to the concert hall in time to get student tickets (as paid for by the program). Me and Colleen had some truly sweet seats in the Orgelbalkon, which is *directly* above and behind the orchestra, facing the rest of the audience. It was really fascinating to watch the conductor- it seemed like as much information was conveyed by his expression as by his hands, and there were times when he was audibly singing along with some sections.
During the break, when we really, really needed to go to the bathroom, Christiane met us downstairs to read aloud a section of the program on Gustav Mahler. I just tuned her out- written German, when read aloud, is almost incomprehensible to me. The grammar is much more complex than normal conversational German, and it's very, very easy to lose track of the verb and all the grammatical structures that you normally get to see fixed down on the page. Also, I'd bought a program myself, so I could read it when I wanted. Finally, she had to let us go to get back to the program.
The production was Mahler's "Das Lied von der Erde" (The Song of the Earth), which is strange and lovely synthesis of folkmusic and symphony. There are two singers, making certain portions of it very much a ballad and others much more instrumental. The music speaks for itself- it's not really like anything I've ever heard, and I bought the CD to be able to ponder it again. Of the two vocalists, one was an American soprano standing in for the normal French soprano. I honestly did not like her that much: she seemed.... I dunno, two brassy for it, really. The recording I bought as a male tenor in her place, so it might be better for that.
In the post-concert haze (and my god, how many times do they clap for the conductor alone??), Christiane dismissed us out into the cold cruel world. It was rainy slightly, and when Colleen and I stopped after a moment to get our bearings, who should pop up but Christiane, to see us looking stupid and give us directions to Kärtner Ring. Colleen and I started to head home, and after another five minutes we found Christiane was going the same way as us, all along!
So, for the next ten minutes or so, she hounded us with questions about what we were doing for Christmas, where we were going to travel, and other such things. Really, the woman's attempts to be helpful always consist of assuming us to be fools and then pointing out something obvious like we could never have figured it out for ourselves. (Yes, the travel bureau called "Travel Italia" *might* indeed have information about traveling to Italy. How clever of you to point that out to us as we were walking right next to it, Christiane. Thank you so much. Does it occur to you that I might not want to get travel information from a source that's entirely in German and clearly focused on a higher tax bracket than me?)
Anyhoo, we got back to Karlsplatz and found that the Billa we were hoping would be open was closed, like everything else in Vienna on a Saturday early evening. Colleen did not want to eat all of my food, so we ended up going to a mildly expensive Asian noodle restaurant, eating something that only vaguely resembled pad-thai as I know it. The place was really more sushi-oriented, but I was not in the mood for tiny bites of raw fish for dinner.
Anyhoo, we went back to my room and watched some "Flight of the Conchords" videos, and were generally wallowing in boredom when the desire for french fries overcame Colleen. We tried Four Bells, which is very close and home to tasty, tasty homemade chips, but it was full of rugby-lovers watching the world championship between England and South Africa, and there were no tables free.
In despair of finding a place to go, and with the hour waxing later, I suggested Pickwicks. They have a movie store and ice cream in cartons, so that if we really need to, we could get ice cream and take a video home. I forgot that the movie store closed at 10pm, while the bar stayed open later. We got there, it was also full of English-speaking rugby-watchers, and we fled. In a fit of despair and sketchiness, we followed two girls (one of whom looked really familiar to both of us, but we could not decide who she was, or how we might know her). They were also clearly looking for a place to sit and drink, so we ended up going down a dark alley to a bar named "Roger." While Roger did not have food that night (for reasons that were never clearly explained), it *did* have Strongbow and Guinness.
After one beer (and damn are they expensive!), we headed out. On a whim, we stopped at a crowded würstelstand, and both got Käsekrainer, about which I raved about last night. So, so good. Sausage filled with cheese and love, paired with some truly bland Austrian-style "scharfes Senft" mustard, and a single piece of dense dark bread. It was lovely. (Now, contrary to what you are picturing, sausages are served not in a tube, but cut into bite size and eaten with a tiny plastic fork off a paper plate. The piece of bread is entirely separate and unrelated, except as something tasty and wonderful on it's own.)
After that we headed both home to our empty rooms, as both our roomies are gone for the weekend.
This brings me up to today. There is nothing to do now, so I should study and learn things of wonderful applicability to my life.
At around 1pm, I looked up where I had to go to meet Christiane H., the former resident director of the Wellesley in Wien program, and it turned out the café was very close to Karlsplatz, where I normally take the train to school. So, it seemed like foot transportation was in order. Since I hadn't been there before, I gave myself plenty of time to get lost, and ended up at the café well before our meeting time. I found a little Buchhandlung where they had, joy of joys, the very popular set of cheap literature that you always see students reading, including a hell of a lot of Shakespeare in English with German footnotes, German, and volumes with both together. Burgtheater in Vienna, and I want to go see it and understand the German, I bought myself a little copy of King Lear/König Lear to peruse at my leisure. (The relationship of German-speakers to Shakespeare is sort of a mystery to me- he's incredibly popular in translation here, and every theatre had presented some of his works on a fairly regular basis. Very strange.)
Anyway, I killed time in the bookstore until it was time to head to the Café, where I still got there before the Christiane and stood outside waiting until I saw her beckoning to me through a window. Once I came inside, there passed several awkward minutes alone with her, in which she inquired minutely into the professors of my classes, and happened to mention that she had just been to the birthday party of one of them. It was then that Colleen called me, and we passed a few awkward minutes while I looked at my map and directed her how to get to the coffeehouse, while ignoring suggestions from Christiane that I could barely hear about how taking this or that Straßenbahn/U-bahn would be faster. Colleen came, finally, and was subjected to the same inquires about her classes. After that, Sarah, a Wellesley-alumna attending Wien Universität for graduate studies, came as well. Ana never showed up, though she did send me a text message asking the name of the cafe again. After that, she did not answer her phone or text messages, and we had to leave to get to the Konzerthaus in time.
So, we fled the Kaffeehaus and got to the concert hall in time to get student tickets (as paid for by the program). Me and Colleen had some truly sweet seats in the Orgelbalkon, which is *directly* above and behind the orchestra, facing the rest of the audience. It was really fascinating to watch the conductor- it seemed like as much information was conveyed by his expression as by his hands, and there were times when he was audibly singing along with some sections.
During the break, when we really, really needed to go to the bathroom, Christiane met us downstairs to read aloud a section of the program on Gustav Mahler. I just tuned her out- written German, when read aloud, is almost incomprehensible to me. The grammar is much more complex than normal conversational German, and it's very, very easy to lose track of the verb and all the grammatical structures that you normally get to see fixed down on the page. Also, I'd bought a program myself, so I could read it when I wanted. Finally, she had to let us go to get back to the program.
The production was Mahler's "Das Lied von der Erde" (The Song of the Earth), which is strange and lovely synthesis of folkmusic and symphony. There are two singers, making certain portions of it very much a ballad and others much more instrumental. The music speaks for itself- it's not really like anything I've ever heard, and I bought the CD to be able to ponder it again. Of the two vocalists, one was an American soprano standing in for the normal French soprano. I honestly did not like her that much: she seemed.... I dunno, two brassy for it, really. The recording I bought as a male tenor in her place, so it might be better for that.
In the post-concert haze (and my god, how many times do they clap for the conductor alone??), Christiane dismissed us out into the cold cruel world. It was rainy slightly, and when Colleen and I stopped after a moment to get our bearings, who should pop up but Christiane, to see us looking stupid and give us directions to Kärtner Ring. Colleen and I started to head home, and after another five minutes we found Christiane was going the same way as us, all along!
So, for the next ten minutes or so, she hounded us with questions about what we were doing for Christmas, where we were going to travel, and other such things. Really, the woman's attempts to be helpful always consist of assuming us to be fools and then pointing out something obvious like we could never have figured it out for ourselves. (Yes, the travel bureau called "Travel Italia" *might* indeed have information about traveling to Italy. How clever of you to point that out to us as we were walking right next to it, Christiane. Thank you so much. Does it occur to you that I might not want to get travel information from a source that's entirely in German and clearly focused on a higher tax bracket than me?)
Anyhoo, we got back to Karlsplatz and found that the Billa we were hoping would be open was closed, like everything else in Vienna on a Saturday early evening. Colleen did not want to eat all of my food, so we ended up going to a mildly expensive Asian noodle restaurant, eating something that only vaguely resembled pad-thai as I know it. The place was really more sushi-oriented, but I was not in the mood for tiny bites of raw fish for dinner.
Anyhoo, we went back to my room and watched some "Flight of the Conchords" videos, and were generally wallowing in boredom when the desire for french fries overcame Colleen. We tried Four Bells, which is very close and home to tasty, tasty homemade chips, but it was full of rugby-lovers watching the world championship between England and South Africa, and there were no tables free.
In despair of finding a place to go, and with the hour waxing later, I suggested Pickwicks. They have a movie store and ice cream in cartons, so that if we really need to, we could get ice cream and take a video home. I forgot that the movie store closed at 10pm, while the bar stayed open later. We got there, it was also full of English-speaking rugby-watchers, and we fled. In a fit of despair and sketchiness, we followed two girls (one of whom looked really familiar to both of us, but we could not decide who she was, or how we might know her). They were also clearly looking for a place to sit and drink, so we ended up going down a dark alley to a bar named "Roger." While Roger did not have food that night (for reasons that were never clearly explained), it *did* have Strongbow and Guinness.
After one beer (and damn are they expensive!), we headed out. On a whim, we stopped at a crowded würstelstand, and both got Käsekrainer, about which I raved about last night. So, so good. Sausage filled with cheese and love, paired with some truly bland Austrian-style "scharfes Senft" mustard, and a single piece of dense dark bread. It was lovely. (Now, contrary to what you are picturing, sausages are served not in a tube, but cut into bite size and eaten with a tiny plastic fork off a paper plate. The piece of bread is entirely separate and unrelated, except as something tasty and wonderful on it's own.)
After that we headed both home to our empty rooms, as both our roomies are gone for the weekend.
This brings me up to today. There is nothing to do now, so I should study and learn things of wonderful applicability to my life.
