*Nick in Vienna
Well, we're almost there. Jane is flying to Vienna tonight, then we are flying to Paris with Mason on the 28th, and then back to Columbus on the 30th. It has been quite an experience, and I'm not sure how I feel about leaving Europe, but I am very excited to live with Jane again (we've seen each other 5 days of the past 3 months).
I am also very excited to see all of you again, be you family or friend (or both?). We'll probably post some sort of wrap-up thoughts at some point. But for now, I need to clean my apartment...
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Summer night in Vienna
*Nick in Vienna
Earlier tonight I went to a free outdoor concert given by the Wiener Philharmoniker at Schoenbrunn. I met up with a couple friends from the English church who had also brought a few people from their school programs. We had a great seat up on the hill behind and above the stage. The view was amazing. The sound, not so much. We could barely hear anything up there. The music was all planet themed, so they played some Star Wars, Holst's Planets, and that sort of thing. I'm sure it was great. It didn't really matter, though. The view was great, the wine was flowing, and the conversation delightful. Here are a few pictures.
Earlier tonight I went to a free outdoor concert given by the Wiener Philharmoniker at Schoenbrunn. I met up with a couple friends from the English church who had also brought a few people from their school programs. We had a great seat up on the hill behind and above the stage. The view was amazing. The sound, not so much. We could barely hear anything up there. The music was all planet themed, so they played some Star Wars, Holst's Planets, and that sort of thing. I'm sure it was great. It didn't really matter, though. The view was great, the wine was flowing, and the conversation delightful. Here are a few pictures.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
We were Germans, if only for a day
*Nick in Vienna
As Jane mentioned in the post below this one, we went on a very nice hike while we were in Munich in the Alps. We pretty much just hiked to the summit of a mountain and back down. I think the mountain was called Wendenberg, which roughly means 'turning mountain,' but I can't quite remember.
Our friend Andreas brought a few other friends, two of whom had cars, so it meant that we could get right to the base of the hill. We would still have been able to go by train had we needed to, but it would have been less convenient and more expensive with six of us. We did the hike of Pfingsten (Pentecost), which is a holiday here so there were lots of people hiking. The parking lot was almost totally full when we arrived from people already on the hike. I felt a little out of place in the parking lot seeing all the equipment people had. Jane and I had one school-sized backpack that we traded off with water and apples, and we were both wearing sunscreen. The Germans in contrast all had a pair of hiking sticks, hiking boots, large backpacks filled with lots of food, maps, extra clothes, and cushions for sitting. The Germans take their hiking seriously, you see. At first Jane and I were kind of making fun of them to ourselves, but it turned out I really needed those hiking sticks. More on that later.
The views on the hike were stunning, as the pictures hopefully show. We actually stopped taking pictures at some point because there was just too much and a camera couldn't possibly capture it. Jane and I were both pretty upset at the pace as we were heading up the mountain.
Maybe because we weren't carrying very much, or maybe because we are Americans that like to walk fast, but we really wanted to move much quicker than everybody else. Presumably our company was just saving their strength as we turned out to really need it. We stopped about half way up for some food and we took this picture of the peak we were headed to.
Once we finally reached the peak, after about 3 1/2 hours of hiking uphill, some of it quite steep, it was really breathtaking. What was also really great, though, is that there is a beer garden on the top! Ahh Bavarians and their beer gardens. It was really quite nice after a long hike to enjoy a cold beer and a hot schnitzel. There were a ton of people up there, pretty much all German. This particular peak is very popular and there is actually a train that goes to almost the top (the reason for the Beer Garden). There is also a cute little church which can be seen in the last picture.
After hanging around at the top for a couple hours enjoying drinks, conversation, and the few, we headed down the other side. It was the more northerly side so there was still a fair amount of snow, especially on one stretch of the trail. Someone kindly let me borrow their hiking sticks but I still fell on my butt three or four times into the snow. Then my knee really starting acting up (actually, it was my IT band, or I think that is what Jane said). Someone let me use their hiking sticks for the whole descent, which was very kind of them because that is when you really want them, especially if your knee is hurting.
We finally made it to the bottom and then we went out for huge pieces of cake. Like, seriously, you have never seen pieces of cake this big. Jane had sachertorte that was probably the size of four normal pieces. Germans often have their cake/dessert in the late afternoon rather than after dinner like Americans, so it was pretty crowded at the cafe, but we sat outside in a beautiful cafe surrounded by flowers. We figured we earned our huge cake, though, because on that day we were Germans.
As Jane mentioned in the post below this one, we went on a very nice hike while we were in Munich in the Alps. We pretty much just hiked to the summit of a mountain and back down. I think the mountain was called Wendenberg, which roughly means 'turning mountain,' but I can't quite remember.
Our friend Andreas brought a few other friends, two of whom had cars, so it meant that we could get right to the base of the hill. We would still have been able to go by train had we needed to, but it would have been less convenient and more expensive with six of us. We did the hike of Pfingsten (Pentecost), which is a holiday here so there were lots of people hiking. The parking lot was almost totally full when we arrived from people already on the hike. I felt a little out of place in the parking lot seeing all the equipment people had. Jane and I had one school-sized backpack that we traded off with water and apples, and we were both wearing sunscreen. The Germans in contrast all had a pair of hiking sticks, hiking boots, large backpacks filled with lots of food, maps, extra clothes, and cushions for sitting. The Germans take their hiking seriously, you see. At first Jane and I were kind of making fun of them to ourselves, but it turned out I really needed those hiking sticks. More on that later.
The views on the hike were stunning, as the pictures hopefully show. We actually stopped taking pictures at some point because there was just too much and a camera couldn't possibly capture it. Jane and I were both pretty upset at the pace as we were heading up the mountain.
Maybe because we weren't carrying very much, or maybe because we are Americans that like to walk fast, but we really wanted to move much quicker than everybody else. Presumably our company was just saving their strength as we turned out to really need it. We stopped about half way up for some food and we took this picture of the peak we were headed to. Once we finally reached the peak, after about 3 1/2 hours of hiking uphill, some of it quite steep, it was really breathtaking. What was also really great, though, is that there is a beer garden on the top! Ahh Bavarians and their beer gardens. It was really quite nice after a long hike to enjoy a cold beer and a hot schnitzel. There were a ton of people up there, pretty much all German. This particular peak is very popular and there is actually a train that goes to almost the top (the reason for the Beer Garden). There is also a cute little church which can be seen in the last picture.
After hanging around at the top for a couple hours enjoying drinks, conversation, and the few, we headed down the other side. It was the more northerly side so there was still a fair amount of snow, especially on one stretch of the trail. Someone kindly let me borrow their hiking sticks but I still fell on my butt three or four times into the snow. Then my knee really starting acting up (actually, it was my IT band, or I think that is what Jane said). Someone let me use their hiking sticks for the whole descent, which was very kind of them because that is when you really want them, especially if your knee is hurting.
We finally made it to the bottom and then we went out for huge pieces of cake. Like, seriously, you have never seen pieces of cake this big. Jane had sachertorte that was probably the size of four normal pieces. Germans often have their cake/dessert in the late afternoon rather than after dinner like Americans, so it was pretty crowded at the cafe, but we sat outside in a beautiful cafe surrounded by flowers. We figured we earned our huge cake, though, because on that day we were Germans.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Spending time with German people in Germany
*Jane in Paris*
Recently Nick and I went to Munich to visit the family that I lived with when I studied in Germany in 2003. More precisely we went to Holzkirchen, a little town with a view of the Alps 35 km south of Munich, and stayed with the Orlando family. My host father, Stefan, is Italian-born, but he has lived in the Holzkirchen area for almost all of his life.
My host mother, Annemarie, has always lived there. This was the third time that I had stayed with the Orlandos, the second time for Nick, and as always their hospitality was amazing. We felt at home from the first minute - they gave us a set of keys, invited us to rummage in the refrigerator, let us watch TV with them, and patiently spoke with us in German. I've always loved being at their home - it's not too large but clean, bright, and comfortable, and the view of the Alps from the backyard is something I never tired of. They had built a new pond for the pet ducks since the last time I had been there, and while the cat had recently passed away, they had acquired a turtle that likes to make laps around the backyard. The area where I live in Paris is extremely urban, and the startling effect a more natural surrounding had on me during the retreat I wrote about in the last post hit me once again in Holzkirchen.
On the first day the weather was incredibly cold - I think the high was 50 F. After taking a few trains from the airport and splitting our ticket with a nice German couple that we met, Annemarie picked us up from the Holzkirchen train station. Immediately speaking German was strange to me, and although I was surprised at how quickly a lot of it came back to me, throughout that first night French words would frequently slip out of my mouth. We ate a classic German dinner of sausage, large pretzels, and beer.
The next day we spent some time walking through Holzkirchen, and I realized that although I lived there for 6 weeks during my time of study, I didn't know the town well at all. While I was there I only utilized a few of the streets and never ventured away from them. I knew the walk from the train station to the Orlando home, and that was about it. We walked to a park and played on the equipment, looked at the many Bavarian-style homes that we passed, and stopped in a used clothing store where I bought a dress inspired by traditional Bavarian fashion (referred to as Tracht). On the way to the store we stopped for ice cream at Crema Gelato, and it was even better than I remembered it.
On the third day we went into Munich, our first trip into the city. We stumbled upon a huge clothing store that devoted an entire floor to Tracht. Despite a sale we still couldn't afford anything, but we enjoyed trying things on anyway.
We also visited our friend Andreas, who just spent six months in Paris, causing our paths to cross. If we hadn't missed our connecting train on the way to move me into my Paris apartment we probably would have never met him. Andreas welcomed us with coffee and rubarb cake, and I finally agreed with Nick that I do like rubarb. That night the Bayern Muenchen soccer team played International Milan in the Champions' League final. Throughout the day we saw more and more Bayern jerseys in the city, and at the Indian restaurant where we ate lunch we watched the waiters adorning the entry with Bayern scarves. Down the street workers at a different restaurant were installing a flat screen tv above the outdoor seating. Nick and I watched the game back in Holzkirchen with the family, and Bayern sadly lost. Annemarie was sad; Stefan had no opinion.
On Sunday Annemarie and Stefan lead us on a bike tour through a forest near their house. The ride was at least as stressful as it was enjoyable, because the path was littered with large rocks and it had rained on it the night before.
We ended the ride with a late lunch in a beer garden, joined by my host sister, Verena, and her boyfriend. Yes, the Bavarians certainly know their way around pork! The ride back, after such a nice meal and the tiring ride there, was not as enjoyable. We got home and basically had to just lie around for the rest of the day, because we had planned a big hike for Monday.
Nick is going to pick up with the day of the hike, which as far as views and excitement goes was the high point of the trip.
Recently Nick and I went to Munich to visit the family that I lived with when I studied in Germany in 2003. More precisely we went to Holzkirchen, a little town with a view of the Alps 35 km south of Munich, and stayed with the Orlando family. My host father, Stefan, is Italian-born, but he has lived in the Holzkirchen area for almost all of his life.
My host mother, Annemarie, has always lived there. This was the third time that I had stayed with the Orlandos, the second time for Nick, and as always their hospitality was amazing. We felt at home from the first minute - they gave us a set of keys, invited us to rummage in the refrigerator, let us watch TV with them, and patiently spoke with us in German. I've always loved being at their home - it's not too large but clean, bright, and comfortable, and the view of the Alps from the backyard is something I never tired of. They had built a new pond for the pet ducks since the last time I had been there, and while the cat had recently passed away, they had acquired a turtle that likes to make laps around the backyard. The area where I live in Paris is extremely urban, and the startling effect a more natural surrounding had on me during the retreat I wrote about in the last post hit me once again in Holzkirchen. On the first day the weather was incredibly cold - I think the high was 50 F. After taking a few trains from the airport and splitting our ticket with a nice German couple that we met, Annemarie picked us up from the Holzkirchen train station. Immediately speaking German was strange to me, and although I was surprised at how quickly a lot of it came back to me, throughout that first night French words would frequently slip out of my mouth. We ate a classic German dinner of sausage, large pretzels, and beer.
The next day we spent some time walking through Holzkirchen, and I realized that although I lived there for 6 weeks during my time of study, I didn't know the town well at all. While I was there I only utilized a few of the streets and never ventured away from them. I knew the walk from the train station to the Orlando home, and that was about it. We walked to a park and played on the equipment, looked at the many Bavarian-style homes that we passed, and stopped in a used clothing store where I bought a dress inspired by traditional Bavarian fashion (referred to as Tracht). On the way to the store we stopped for ice cream at Crema Gelato, and it was even better than I remembered it.
On the third day we went into Munich, our first trip into the city. We stumbled upon a huge clothing store that devoted an entire floor to Tracht. Despite a sale we still couldn't afford anything, but we enjoyed trying things on anyway.
We also visited our friend Andreas, who just spent six months in Paris, causing our paths to cross. If we hadn't missed our connecting train on the way to move me into my Paris apartment we probably would have never met him. Andreas welcomed us with coffee and rubarb cake, and I finally agreed with Nick that I do like rubarb. That night the Bayern Muenchen soccer team played International Milan in the Champions' League final. Throughout the day we saw more and more Bayern jerseys in the city, and at the Indian restaurant where we ate lunch we watched the waiters adorning the entry with Bayern scarves. Down the street workers at a different restaurant were installing a flat screen tv above the outdoor seating. Nick and I watched the game back in Holzkirchen with the family, and Bayern sadly lost. Annemarie was sad; Stefan had no opinion.
On Sunday Annemarie and Stefan lead us on a bike tour through a forest near their house. The ride was at least as stressful as it was enjoyable, because the path was littered with large rocks and it had rained on it the night before.
We ended the ride with a late lunch in a beer garden, joined by my host sister, Verena, and her boyfriend. Yes, the Bavarians certainly know their way around pork! The ride back, after such a nice meal and the tiring ride there, was not as enjoyable. We got home and basically had to just lie around for the rest of the day, because we had planned a big hike for Monday.
Nick is going to pick up with the day of the hike, which as far as views and excitement goes was the high point of the trip.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Spending time with French people in France
*Jane in Paris*
As I've talked about before, I've been doing a fair amount with a church close to where I live, L’Église reformée du Marais. It's only a 15 min. walk from my apartment. Last Wednesday I volunteered to make the meal for the student group that meets every Wednesday night. I was nervous about this because, you know, food is really a specialty of the French. They've all eaten plenty of very good meals. I made chili for them, because I don't know many French dishes and chili is something I feel like I make well. Also, I knew they would like an "American" dish. Before I bought the ingredients I asked the guy I cooked with, a great guy from Madagascar named Ony, how spicy I should make the chili. I didn't want to overwhelm my friends, I said, but spicy is really an innate quality of chili. He agreed, and said that I should make it a little spicy, and that they would just have to deal with it :) When the meal was served, some of the students were tentative at first. They didn't take very much and ate slowly. One of them told me it was quite spicy for her. The leader of our group, an English guy named Alex, told me that this was as much spice as he could stand before whatever he was eating turned from wonderful to unbearable. (I eat spicy things regularly in the U.S. but I am not known as someone who conquers spice. The chili was so mild that unless I thought about it, I didn't notice the spice as I ate). After awhile, though, I noticed a lot of people taking second helpings. And when I left there were no leftovers! I think it was a success.
Then this past weekend I went on a retreat with the same student group. We took a train to the little town of Melun, about 50 kilometers from Paris, where there is a YMCA lodge/center built on several acres of land. On Saturday we arrived at the center along with several hundred scouts (pronounced "scoots" in French, and girls and boys were together). They didn't bother us because they stayed at a campsite, but we heard them yelling in the distance throughout Saturday and Sunday. The grounds of the center were beautiful - flowers and flowering trees were everywhere, little stone paths crisscrossed the landscape, and places to sit made out of rocks were scattered around.
The weather in Paris has been unpleasant for the past few weeks, and so I was grateful for the few hours of sun and warmth before it began to rain that evening. There also isn't a whole lot of green in Paris, especially where I live, which isn't close to any parks.
Besides the times of discussion, prayer, worship, and hearing from a pastor named Youssra who joined us on the trip, we hung out and played games. On Saturday night we played loups-garous (werewolves), which is very similar to Mafia. I liked this version of the concept better, though, because there were a lot more possible roles. The French are known for loving debate, and I have noticed that discussions can reach a level that I would consider to be an angry argument, but that in reality is culturally appropriate. This meant that a game like loups-garous was very fun to play with French people (For those who don't know the game, identities are passed out and 2-4 people are designated werewolves and they kill off the villagers one by one at night, and everyone has to figure out who they are during debating sessions in between each murder.) No one was shy about making accusations, and anyone who was accused immediately went on the defensive. For several minutes at a time the room would be full of yelling and laughing as we all threw ourselves into the scenario. We played the game twice; once I was the sorcerer (the doctor) and once I was indeed a werewolf. After some of the students had retired to bed I stayed up longer to play another game, Jungle Speed, which was kind of like Uno, except that the rules seemed rather flexible. It took me at least 30 minutes to begin to understand the game, including the important point that we were trying to get rid of our cards and not gain all the cards. Despite not even realizing this for several rounds I won the game twice and fell out of my chair once when I made the mistake of going for the little totem that is a part of the game at the same time as Barth.
I have to say a little bit about the food. We were at a YMCA camp and we ate cafeteria-style meals. For an American this means pretty bad food: fake mashed potatoes, rubbery meat, little cartons of milk. But no, we were still in France. We had haute-savoie-style pasta with butter, a sort of tomato and beef stew, and there were always baguettes. To drink we could choose from beer, wine, or Coke in a glass bottle, and the salads were always artfully arranged.
The last thing I want to mention is how incredibly nice everyone was to me on the trip. I feel guilty sometimes around these kids, because I worry that as a foreigner who is still working on my French skills I am just a burden to them. But almost everyone made it a point to talk to me at least once during the trip, and I found myself taking part in group conversations more often than I ever have before due to how welcomed I felt. I had long conversations: with Audrey about the French scouts and about her journey towards knowing God, with Rachel about languages, and with several others. The only time that I became profoundly aware of my difference was when I was in a group trying to make up a skit, and all of the girls went into full French-humor mode, using words that I had never heard of before, naming celebrities that I didn't know, and in general making jokes that I only kind of understood while they laughed insanely. However, this situation works both ways, and I try to keep that in mind: my French friends need to be welcoming and patient with me, and I need to understand that there will be times when they want to truly be themselves around each other. Living in a foreign country for so long and especially trying to integrate myself into a group like this has lent a me a lot of insight into the lives of the many immigrants in America who try to integrate themselves into society, many of whom deal with larger cultural differences and live abroad for much longer.
As I've talked about before, I've been doing a fair amount with a church close to where I live, L’Église reformée du Marais. It's only a 15 min. walk from my apartment. Last Wednesday I volunteered to make the meal for the student group that meets every Wednesday night. I was nervous about this because, you know, food is really a specialty of the French. They've all eaten plenty of very good meals. I made chili for them, because I don't know many French dishes and chili is something I feel like I make well. Also, I knew they would like an "American" dish. Before I bought the ingredients I asked the guy I cooked with, a great guy from Madagascar named Ony, how spicy I should make the chili. I didn't want to overwhelm my friends, I said, but spicy is really an innate quality of chili. He agreed, and said that I should make it a little spicy, and that they would just have to deal with it :) When the meal was served, some of the students were tentative at first. They didn't take very much and ate slowly. One of them told me it was quite spicy for her. The leader of our group, an English guy named Alex, told me that this was as much spice as he could stand before whatever he was eating turned from wonderful to unbearable. (I eat spicy things regularly in the U.S. but I am not known as someone who conquers spice. The chili was so mild that unless I thought about it, I didn't notice the spice as I ate). After awhile, though, I noticed a lot of people taking second helpings. And when I left there were no leftovers! I think it was a success.
Then this past weekend I went on a retreat with the same student group. We took a train to the little town of Melun, about 50 kilometers from Paris, where there is a YMCA lodge/center built on several acres of land. On Saturday we arrived at the center along with several hundred scouts (pronounced "scoots" in French, and girls and boys were together). They didn't bother us because they stayed at a campsite, but we heard them yelling in the distance throughout Saturday and Sunday. The grounds of the center were beautiful - flowers and flowering trees were everywhere, little stone paths crisscrossed the landscape, and places to sit made out of rocks were scattered around.
The weather in Paris has been unpleasant for the past few weeks, and so I was grateful for the few hours of sun and warmth before it began to rain that evening. There also isn't a whole lot of green in Paris, especially where I live, which isn't close to any parks.Besides the times of discussion, prayer, worship, and hearing from a pastor named Youssra who joined us on the trip, we hung out and played games. On Saturday night we played loups-garous (werewolves), which is very similar to Mafia. I liked this version of the concept better, though, because there were a lot more possible roles. The French are known for loving debate, and I have noticed that discussions can reach a level that I would consider to be an angry argument, but that in reality is culturally appropriate. This meant that a game like loups-garous was very fun to play with French people (For those who don't know the game, identities are passed out and 2-4 people are designated werewolves and they kill off the villagers one by one at night, and everyone has to figure out who they are during debating sessions in between each murder.) No one was shy about making accusations, and anyone who was accused immediately went on the defensive. For several minutes at a time the room would be full of yelling and laughing as we all threw ourselves into the scenario. We played the game twice; once I was the sorcerer (the doctor) and once I was indeed a werewolf. After some of the students had retired to bed I stayed up longer to play another game, Jungle Speed, which was kind of like Uno, except that the rules seemed rather flexible. It took me at least 30 minutes to begin to understand the game, including the important point that we were trying to get rid of our cards and not gain all the cards. Despite not even realizing this for several rounds I won the game twice and fell out of my chair once when I made the mistake of going for the little totem that is a part of the game at the same time as Barth.
I have to say a little bit about the food. We were at a YMCA camp and we ate cafeteria-style meals. For an American this means pretty bad food: fake mashed potatoes, rubbery meat, little cartons of milk. But no, we were still in France. We had haute-savoie-style pasta with butter, a sort of tomato and beef stew, and there were always baguettes. To drink we could choose from beer, wine, or Coke in a glass bottle, and the salads were always artfully arranged.
The last thing I want to mention is how incredibly nice everyone was to me on the trip. I feel guilty sometimes around these kids, because I worry that as a foreigner who is still working on my French skills I am just a burden to them. But almost everyone made it a point to talk to me at least once during the trip, and I found myself taking part in group conversations more often than I ever have before due to how welcomed I felt. I had long conversations: with Audrey about the French scouts and about her journey towards knowing God, with Rachel about languages, and with several others. The only time that I became profoundly aware of my difference was when I was in a group trying to make up a skit, and all of the girls went into full French-humor mode, using words that I had never heard of before, naming celebrities that I didn't know, and in general making jokes that I only kind of understood while they laughed insanely. However, this situation works both ways, and I try to keep that in mind: my French friends need to be welcoming and patient with me, and I need to understand that there will be times when they want to truly be themselves around each other. Living in a foreign country for so long and especially trying to integrate myself into a group like this has lent a me a lot of insight into the lives of the many immigrants in America who try to integrate themselves into society, many of whom deal with larger cultural differences and live abroad for much longer.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Week in Wroclaw, pt 2
*Nick in Vienna
Bit late getting this up, but oh well, you all are patient. Last time I wrote about the library and the area surrounding it in Wroclaw, Poland. Now I want to say a bit about the downtown and show a few pictures. The short version is that I really liked Wroclaw, and the next time you find yourself in Central or Eastern Europe you really should visit it. Wroclaw is a little tougher to get to, but if you want something that isn't crazy with tourists, but still very lovely and enjoyable (not to mention dirt cheap), then you can't go wrong with Wroclaw.
The main square is huge. It is a square like ones in the states where there is a big building in the middle and four blocks around it (meaning, it is not like Brussels, where the square is a big empty lot surrounded by buildings). Unlike American squares, though, it is only for pedestrians and bicycles. It's pretty hard to capture in a picture.
This one shows maybe 1/2 of one side of the square. The buildings around the edge are very colorful and cheery. The next picture is the building in the middle. I wish I could tell you what it was, but I have no idea.
Also in the square was a shrine for the recently deceased Polish President and his wife. I was there a little less than a week after it happened. The mood around the shrine was very somber. I saw many people bringing candles and a handful crying.
This next picture captures what I oddly loved about Wroclaw, pristine beauty next to decaying Communist buildings. I tried to capture it in one shot as best I could. On the left is the main university building. On the right is what I guess an apartment building built during the Communist era when Poland was under Soviet rule. All over town it is quite evident that the Poles have made no effort whatsoever in keeping up the building constructed by the Reds. I didn't get many pictures of it, but scattered throughout the town are crumbling and ugly reminders of Wroclaw's bleak past.
A more cheerful reminder of that past, and a far better story is captured in the many gnome statues scattered throughout the city. I read online that these actually have a very interesting story. Apparently during Russian rule in the 1980s a group of students and professors started protesting the communists by making colorful, happy garden gnomes and placing them throughout the city. This seriously upset the Russians (who put out patrols to destroy all garden gnomes...seriously) but I think it is a brilliant and creative form of protest and truly captures what I love about the Poles. A few years ago the city commissioned some local artists to built bronze gnome statues to be placed throughout the city as a reminder of the revolution against the Russians. This picture was taken on the square. I read there are websites where all 150ish gnomes are marked on a map with gps coordinates. It is like that super weird hunting thing I did with Zack and Eve last summer (can't remember what it was called), except it is for victims of communist rule. Finally, the last picture I took facing out from the square, and I didn't even realize until I got home that one of the gnomes is hanging on the street light on the right.
Bit late getting this up, but oh well, you all are patient. Last time I wrote about the library and the area surrounding it in Wroclaw, Poland. Now I want to say a bit about the downtown and show a few pictures. The short version is that I really liked Wroclaw, and the next time you find yourself in Central or Eastern Europe you really should visit it. Wroclaw is a little tougher to get to, but if you want something that isn't crazy with tourists, but still very lovely and enjoyable (not to mention dirt cheap), then you can't go wrong with Wroclaw.
The main square is huge. It is a square like ones in the states where there is a big building in the middle and four blocks around it (meaning, it is not like Brussels, where the square is a big empty lot surrounded by buildings). Unlike American squares, though, it is only for pedestrians and bicycles. It's pretty hard to capture in a picture.
This one shows maybe 1/2 of one side of the square. The buildings around the edge are very colorful and cheery. The next picture is the building in the middle. I wish I could tell you what it was, but I have no idea. Also in the square was a shrine for the recently deceased Polish President and his wife. I was there a little less than a week after it happened. The mood around the shrine was very somber. I saw many people bringing candles and a handful crying.
This next picture captures what I oddly loved about Wroclaw, pristine beauty next to decaying Communist buildings. I tried to capture it in one shot as best I could. On the left is the main university building. On the right is what I guess an apartment building built during the Communist era when Poland was under Soviet rule. All over town it is quite evident that the Poles have made no effort whatsoever in keeping up the building constructed by the Reds. I didn't get many pictures of it, but scattered throughout the town are crumbling and ugly reminders of Wroclaw's bleak past.
A more cheerful reminder of that past, and a far better story is captured in the many gnome statues scattered throughout the city. I read online that these actually have a very interesting story. Apparently during Russian rule in the 1980s a group of students and professors started protesting the communists by making colorful, happy garden gnomes and placing them throughout the city. This seriously upset the Russians (who put out patrols to destroy all garden gnomes...seriously) but I think it is a brilliant and creative form of protest and truly captures what I love about the Poles. A few years ago the city commissioned some local artists to built bronze gnome statues to be placed throughout the city as a reminder of the revolution against the Russians. This picture was taken on the square. I read there are websites where all 150ish gnomes are marked on a map with gps coordinates. It is like that super weird hunting thing I did with Zack and Eve last summer (can't remember what it was called), except it is for victims of communist rule. Finally, the last picture I took facing out from the square, and I didn't even realize until I got home that one of the gnomes is hanging on the street light on the right.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Week in Wroclaw pt. 1
*Nick in Vienna
I spent the last week in Wroclaw (pronounced vroat-suave), Poland working in their music history archive. My trip was cut a little short for a few reasons - I worked faster than I thought I would, they had less stuff than I though, and there was a techno festival in town during the weekend and I couldn't find an empty bed.
As some of you might know Krakow and Warsaw were two of our favorite places during our honeymoon, so I was excited to see more of Poland. My night bus from Vienna arrived at 4 am, though, so I wasn't that thrilled when I got there. I found a train station nearby and sat for a few hours before heading into town. The area around the train station is not very pretty and is mostly crumbling communist buildings. Once I made it downtown, though, Wroclaw revealed itself as a beautiful city with all the charm of Krakow. Wroclaw is much smaller, around 200,000 people. It is a university town and there were tons of students everywhere. Basically everything for a tourist is within walking distance, and there are very few cars downtown. Instead there are mostly trams and bikes.
I made it to the library at 8:00 and spent the day transcribing a set of madrigals from the 1580s. The music library is on a little island and in a former monastery. This picture is of the courtyard and the huge church that it is attached to. To get in I had to show my passport to a couple security guards who didn't speak any English. Luckily there was a woman nearby who spoke German, so she translated for me. It is always so much easier to speak German with people who don't speak it as their native language. I'm not really sure why there needed to be so much security. I saw hardly anyone all week in the library, and I was the only visitor for the whole week in the music collection. Jane thought it might be a communist holdover of having a bunch of jobs that aren't really necessary but keep people eating.
The main music librarian was very friendly, like most Polish people, and spoke some English. He sat by me almost the whole day and when I wanted to go get lunch he walked outside with me to show me how to get to the best places. Near the library is the main cathedral of Wroclaw. I took relaxing walks during lunch most days near the library. Here are some pictures, including one of a statue of Pope John Paul II, who lived in Wroclaw at one point. Tomorrow I'll post pics and description of downtown and the many gnomes of Wroclaw, so look forward to that.
I spent the last week in Wroclaw (pronounced vroat-suave), Poland working in their music history archive. My trip was cut a little short for a few reasons - I worked faster than I thought I would, they had less stuff than I though, and there was a techno festival in town during the weekend and I couldn't find an empty bed.
As some of you might know Krakow and Warsaw were two of our favorite places during our honeymoon, so I was excited to see more of Poland. My night bus from Vienna arrived at 4 am, though, so I wasn't that thrilled when I got there. I found a train station nearby and sat for a few hours before heading into town. The area around the train station is not very pretty and is mostly crumbling communist buildings. Once I made it downtown, though, Wroclaw revealed itself as a beautiful city with all the charm of Krakow. Wroclaw is much smaller, around 200,000 people. It is a university town and there were tons of students everywhere. Basically everything for a tourist is within walking distance, and there are very few cars downtown. Instead there are mostly trams and bikes.
I made it to the library at 8:00 and spent the day transcribing a set of madrigals from the 1580s. The music library is on a little island and in a former monastery. This picture is of the courtyard and the huge church that it is attached to. To get in I had to show my passport to a couple security guards who didn't speak any English. Luckily there was a woman nearby who spoke German, so she translated for me. It is always so much easier to speak German with people who don't speak it as their native language. I'm not really sure why there needed to be so much security. I saw hardly anyone all week in the library, and I was the only visitor for the whole week in the music collection. Jane thought it might be a communist holdover of having a bunch of jobs that aren't really necessary but keep people eating.
The main music librarian was very friendly, like most Polish people, and spoke some English. He sat by me almost the whole day and when I wanted to go get lunch he walked outside with me to show me how to get to the best places. Near the library is the main cathedral of Wroclaw. I took relaxing walks during lunch most days near the library. Here are some pictures, including one of a statue of Pope John Paul II, who lived in Wroclaw at one point. Tomorrow I'll post pics and description of downtown and the many gnomes of Wroclaw, so look forward to that.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Brussels and Passion Week in France
*Jane in Paris*
I'm actually going to start with the second topic. The main thing I wanted to share about Easter in Paris is that it's not Easter! No bunnies, no eggs, no one trying to get me to buy things to celebrate one of the holiest days on the church calendar. Here Easter is called "Pâques," meaning Passover. From what Nick tells me about Easter in Vienna, it sounds like the cute pastel animals come from our Germanic heritage. The church that I've been attending held a special service on Palm Sunday that featured a beautiful Passion cantata by one of the many artistic people in the congregation, John Featherstone. This helped me to start off Holy Week with a sense of solemnity. The other special thing I did that week was to go to Good Friday (here called "Holy Friday") mass at Sacre Coeur basilica. It's one of the larger Catholic churches in Paris, but it lacks the touristy atmosphere of Notre Dame. The most powerful moment for me was when the priests and attendants processed down the aisle, empty handed, and then all prostrated themselves on the floor of the sanctuary for two minutes. We in the crowd immediately dropped to our knees and it seemed like no one moved in the church until the celebrants stood up. I'll also always remember watching the nuns process up to the choir (the nice older woman sitting next to me brought their movements to my attention), all of them in white dresses and black head-coverings. The simple color combination seemed to encapsulate the sentiment of Good Friday. In short, it seemed much easier in Paris to have a meaningful Passion Week than I find it to be in the U.S. It is too bad that the nation's companies have managed to turn it into just another day for Americans to buy things.
Nick visited me in Paris last week, and our biggest adventure was a day trip to Brussels, Belgium. We took an early morning train from Paris and found ourselves at the South Train Station after just 1.5 hours. Right away seeing all of the signs in Dutch and French captivated me, because Dutch seems like a comical, corrupted form of German that I can almost understand. We made our way to the famous Grand Place, snapped some pictures, and then visited the church on the square, St. Nicholas. The priest was standing at the door, greeting people who passed by. Parts of the church had been built in the 13th century and other buildings on the square were actually attached to the walls of the church and obscured parts of the windows. Later in the day we visited another church that we happened upon on the way to a museum, St. Michael. 
The stained glass inside the church was beautiful and reminded me of the windows of Chartres. 
All around the outer aisle of the church were paintings that had been inspired by a particular religious poem. I really like that churches in Europe so often support the arts (for instance Notre Dame's participation in Nuit Blanche). One of my favorite paintings was Pâques. We also saw the Atomium, Brussels's version of the Eiffel Tower: a huge model of an atom (mercury I think) also built for a World's Fair. 
It was nice to visit a country that was brand new to me but where I could still communicate; despite what I had heard, French in Brussels didn't seem to differ noticeably from Parisian French. Nick and I liked that new and old building mixed fairly freely in this city, which isn't the case in Vienna nor in Paris. Our last activity there was eating Belgian waffles topped with chocolate sauce and fruit.
I'm actually going to start with the second topic. The main thing I wanted to share about Easter in Paris is that it's not Easter! No bunnies, no eggs, no one trying to get me to buy things to celebrate one of the holiest days on the church calendar. Here Easter is called "Pâques," meaning Passover. From what Nick tells me about Easter in Vienna, it sounds like the cute pastel animals come from our Germanic heritage. The church that I've been attending held a special service on Palm Sunday that featured a beautiful Passion cantata by one of the many artistic people in the congregation, John Featherstone. This helped me to start off Holy Week with a sense of solemnity. The other special thing I did that week was to go to Good Friday (here called "Holy Friday") mass at Sacre Coeur basilica. It's one of the larger Catholic churches in Paris, but it lacks the touristy atmosphere of Notre Dame. The most powerful moment for me was when the priests and attendants processed down the aisle, empty handed, and then all prostrated themselves on the floor of the sanctuary for two minutes. We in the crowd immediately dropped to our knees and it seemed like no one moved in the church until the celebrants stood up. I'll also always remember watching the nuns process up to the choir (the nice older woman sitting next to me brought their movements to my attention), all of them in white dresses and black head-coverings. The simple color combination seemed to encapsulate the sentiment of Good Friday. In short, it seemed much easier in Paris to have a meaningful Passion Week than I find it to be in the U.S. It is too bad that the nation's companies have managed to turn it into just another day for Americans to buy things.
Nick visited me in Paris last week, and our biggest adventure was a day trip to Brussels, Belgium. We took an early morning train from Paris and found ourselves at the South Train Station after just 1.5 hours. Right away seeing all of the signs in Dutch and French captivated me, because Dutch seems like a comical, corrupted form of German that I can almost understand. We made our way to the famous Grand Place, snapped some pictures, and then visited the church on the square, St. Nicholas. The priest was standing at the door, greeting people who passed by. Parts of the church had been built in the 13th century and other buildings on the square were actually attached to the walls of the church and obscured parts of the windows. Later in the day we visited another church that we happened upon on the way to a museum, St. Michael. 
The stained glass inside the church was beautiful and reminded me of the windows of Chartres. 
All around the outer aisle of the church were paintings that had been inspired by a particular religious poem. I really like that churches in Europe so often support the arts (for instance Notre Dame's participation in Nuit Blanche). One of my favorite paintings was Pâques. We also saw the Atomium, Brussels's version of the Eiffel Tower: a huge model of an atom (mercury I think) also built for a World's Fair. 
It was nice to visit a country that was brand new to me but where I could still communicate; despite what I had heard, French in Brussels didn't seem to differ noticeably from Parisian French. Nick and I liked that new and old building mixed fairly freely in this city, which isn't the case in Vienna nor in Paris. Our last activity there was eating Belgian waffles topped with chocolate sauce and fruit.
Friday, March 19, 2010
Some (mostly positve) thoughts on America from the Outside
*Nick in Vienna
As many of you know Jane and I have been debating whether we would rather live in Europe or America pretty much ever since we got here. I won't bore you with too many repetitions, but basically there are many thing about life here we find very appealing - transportation, easier to shop locally, health care, cultural things, etc.
That being said it is very unlikely to ever happen for longer than this trip because of the difficulty in getting musicology jobs in another country. So, we are trying to not be quite so negative on America (which always annoys me when other people do that, so I guess I'm a hypocrite). Last night I was watching some March Madness games online which combines my one of my favorite parts of American culture with my most hated. I love college sports and really Universities in general. Jane and I stayed up until 2:30 watching Ohio beat Georgetown while chatting on Skype and it was very exciting. The negative side of March Madness, though, is the huge companies scratching each others backs and making millions of dollars off of the efforts of unpaid athletes. As I wrote about earlier, I have really gotten used to not seeing so many ads here. It is so nice watching TV here and not having commercial breaks ever 8 minutes. There are certainly ads in the U-bahn, but even half of those are for the opera or symphony or something (loyal readers will recall that it is because of a TV tax that there are so few ads, which I talked about a month ago). So it is really disturbing watching the game on CBS's website. About 30 percent of their player is covered with ads that move and sparkle. During commercials it doesn't let you switch games. You have to sit and watch yet another add from Exon Mobile or Coca Cola - two of the most irresponsible international companies according to some watchdogs. Fine, I get it Exon Mobile, you are researching algae, but don't think you've fooled me into thinking you are this righteous company.
Anyway, this clash got me thinking that what is, to me at least, truly great about America is that the system encourages so many fantastic people and so many corrupt people. On the one hand there are plenty of nutjobs and people that purposely deceive and distort facts for their own ideological or financial gains. Unfortunately these people have a TV network and are trying to convince us that if we enact a plan to insure millions of people that would have been progressive 80 years ago the country will fall apart. (Side note - when thinking about this issue, please know that Jane and I will very likely be without health insurance next year, and possibly quite a few years to come. At some point we're going to want to have kids or go to the dentist, so I really hope this bill passes). America is also responsible for the great over consumption that will probably destroy the world in a few hundred years. Please, if you haven't, go to www.storyofstuff.com and watch their 20 minute video. It is very informative.
On the other hand, however, the injustices and corruption encouraged in the American system also create thousands of fantastic people, many of which we met in Columbus. These people don't have a TV network, but instead are actively engaged with their communities, trying to make life better for the poor, uneducated, disabled, etc. We had the pleasure of knowing many of these people in Weinland Park and look forward to working with them again. I'm just not sure how many of these people there are in Europe. I am sure there are some, but really life is just so much more comfortable and easy here that really there don't need to be as many. I'm not saying this is a reason to avoid social justice, actually the opposite that this shows it can work. But what I am saying is that right now there are thousands of amazing people doing amazing things in America who don't get recognized or paid for their efforts. Evil can breed tremendous good. The exploitation of the lower class and the abandonment of the working class by corporate America has created huge problems for American cities. While a handful of people have gotten very, very rich, and have gotten very good at tricking us into thinking we need a new i-pod, countless more people have responded to these circumstances and have actually started doing something to make their communities stronger.
Wow. Sorry, didn't mean to get so preachy. And yes, I'm sure I'm wrong about a few things in there, but this is what I was thinking about today, so there it is.
I guess what I'm saying is that there are many fantastic people trying to make America a little more like Europe, and maybe we should be a part of that instead of just moving back here.
As many of you know Jane and I have been debating whether we would rather live in Europe or America pretty much ever since we got here. I won't bore you with too many repetitions, but basically there are many thing about life here we find very appealing - transportation, easier to shop locally, health care, cultural things, etc.
That being said it is very unlikely to ever happen for longer than this trip because of the difficulty in getting musicology jobs in another country. So, we are trying to not be quite so negative on America (which always annoys me when other people do that, so I guess I'm a hypocrite). Last night I was watching some March Madness games online which combines my one of my favorite parts of American culture with my most hated. I love college sports and really Universities in general. Jane and I stayed up until 2:30 watching Ohio beat Georgetown while chatting on Skype and it was very exciting. The negative side of March Madness, though, is the huge companies scratching each others backs and making millions of dollars off of the efforts of unpaid athletes. As I wrote about earlier, I have really gotten used to not seeing so many ads here. It is so nice watching TV here and not having commercial breaks ever 8 minutes. There are certainly ads in the U-bahn, but even half of those are for the opera or symphony or something (loyal readers will recall that it is because of a TV tax that there are so few ads, which I talked about a month ago). So it is really disturbing watching the game on CBS's website. About 30 percent of their player is covered with ads that move and sparkle. During commercials it doesn't let you switch games. You have to sit and watch yet another add from Exon Mobile or Coca Cola - two of the most irresponsible international companies according to some watchdogs. Fine, I get it Exon Mobile, you are researching algae, but don't think you've fooled me into thinking you are this righteous company.
Anyway, this clash got me thinking that what is, to me at least, truly great about America is that the system encourages so many fantastic people and so many corrupt people. On the one hand there are plenty of nutjobs and people that purposely deceive and distort facts for their own ideological or financial gains. Unfortunately these people have a TV network and are trying to convince us that if we enact a plan to insure millions of people that would have been progressive 80 years ago the country will fall apart. (Side note - when thinking about this issue, please know that Jane and I will very likely be without health insurance next year, and possibly quite a few years to come. At some point we're going to want to have kids or go to the dentist, so I really hope this bill passes). America is also responsible for the great over consumption that will probably destroy the world in a few hundred years. Please, if you haven't, go to www.storyofstuff.com and watch their 20 minute video. It is very informative.
On the other hand, however, the injustices and corruption encouraged in the American system also create thousands of fantastic people, many of which we met in Columbus. These people don't have a TV network, but instead are actively engaged with their communities, trying to make life better for the poor, uneducated, disabled, etc. We had the pleasure of knowing many of these people in Weinland Park and look forward to working with them again. I'm just not sure how many of these people there are in Europe. I am sure there are some, but really life is just so much more comfortable and easy here that really there don't need to be as many. I'm not saying this is a reason to avoid social justice, actually the opposite that this shows it can work. But what I am saying is that right now there are thousands of amazing people doing amazing things in America who don't get recognized or paid for their efforts. Evil can breed tremendous good. The exploitation of the lower class and the abandonment of the working class by corporate America has created huge problems for American cities. While a handful of people have gotten very, very rich, and have gotten very good at tricking us into thinking we need a new i-pod, countless more people have responded to these circumstances and have actually started doing something to make their communities stronger.
Wow. Sorry, didn't mean to get so preachy. And yes, I'm sure I'm wrong about a few things in there, but this is what I was thinking about today, so there it is.
I guess what I'm saying is that there are many fantastic people trying to make America a little more like Europe, and maybe we should be a part of that instead of just moving back here.
Monday, March 15, 2010
The Last Few Weeks
*Jane in Paris*
Besides finishing our puzzle Nick and I went to three operas while I was visiting him in Vienna. Two of them had just been composed this year - yes, art music by living composers! Our favorite was Medea by Aribert Reimann. Great text, great staging, great music! And the opera house was packed for the performance we saw. Then we also went to a Verdi opera, Simon Boccanegra, which turned out to be rather disappointing. Oh and we also started another puzzle.
The first weekend I was there we went for a 8 mile hike in the Wienerwald - an area close to Vienna that features picturesque small towns, sizeable hills, but actually not that much forest. Mason came along, continually running ahead of us on the trail and then sprinting back once he felt too far away. Parts of the trail we had chosen took us along roadsides, which was a little frustrating. The high point of the hike was the Peilstein rock formation on top of a large hill. We met a few guys who were climbing with ropes and gear there and we did just a little bit of bouldering on the rocks ourselves.
A few days before I left we went to the Wiener Eistraum (ice-dream). As a kid I did a lot of roller skating (I'm sure you remember it well, mom and dad) and I suppose that these skills just transferred to ice skating without me being conscious of it. I had therefore arrived at the conclusion that ice skating is a natural kind of movement that most people can pick up quickly. Several pieces of evidence presented themselves against this idea. Nick didn't think that he would be able to ice skate, because when he was a kid he couldn't even stand still on roller skates. But no, I told him, standing on ice skates is like standing in regular shoes, and skating is just as easy as walking. He definitely could not ice skate. But he tried really hard for about an hour to do it, and I'm convinced that by the end he had actually improved noticeably. I am proud to say that Nick can at least walk on non-ice surfaces in the skates - that's something, isn't it? So after awhile Nick decided to just sit down and so I skated for a few hours by myself.
I ended up having a great time because the setup was so wonderful: the Eistraum consists of two skating rinks and four lengthy paths. The paths were pretty fun, except that there were often slow and unpredictable children on them blocking my way. These children were the second piece of evidence against my ice skating theory, because they were falling over left and right on the ice. It was obvious that kids have to learn to skate. I actually fell one time while I was skating alone. I was trying to go fast and my legs were getting tired, and so as I picked up my left foot while skating through one of the rinks the toe of the skate got briefly stuck in the ice. So I stumbled for what seemed like awhile, and then I decided to just take myself down while I had enough control to do it safely. I decided to slide on my stomach because I was wearing lots of clothes and this would likely protect my hands. As I slid along the ice I started laughing at myself and a couple passing by me gave me odd looks.
One of the main reasons the thought of protecting my hands crossed my mind in that moment was because I was scheduled to play a concert at the US ambassador to France's residence the day after my return to Paris. This was a stressful concert for me because I had no piano. I either practiced in the music library for limited amounts of time or rehearsed with the vocalist in a very nice space at a Parisian university. Then I spent the two weeks before the concert in Paris, which meant the vocalist and I had to do final rehearsals two weeks early, and then quickly regroup the day of the concert.
I played fairly well - there were 10 songs and it really depended on the song. It's hard after not performing publicly for over a year to go out and stay poised throughout a concert. The ambassador's house in Paris is quite lavish - the fixed architectural decor was in a neo-Baroque style while the furniture was more modern but still uppity. The ambassador is frankly a total jerk, which I already knew because he had appeared briefly at a Fulbright event earlier in the year. He for some reason didn't say anything to me when he met with us musicians and then he actually left the room where we performed during my performance (other people who were there think they saw him leaving with an important looking man, perhaps another ambassador). Several of the other Fulbright scholars came to the concert; I wasn't expecting them and it was very nice to see them. We went out for a drink together afterward and were eventually asked to leave a bar because we were being too loud. What?
Besides finishing our puzzle Nick and I went to three operas while I was visiting him in Vienna. Two of them had just been composed this year - yes, art music by living composers! Our favorite was Medea by Aribert Reimann. Great text, great staging, great music! And the opera house was packed for the performance we saw. Then we also went to a Verdi opera, Simon Boccanegra, which turned out to be rather disappointing. Oh and we also started another puzzle.
The first weekend I was there we went for a 8 mile hike in the Wienerwald - an area close to Vienna that features picturesque small towns, sizeable hills, but actually not that much forest. Mason came along, continually running ahead of us on the trail and then sprinting back once he felt too far away. Parts of the trail we had chosen took us along roadsides, which was a little frustrating. The high point of the hike was the Peilstein rock formation on top of a large hill. We met a few guys who were climbing with ropes and gear there and we did just a little bit of bouldering on the rocks ourselves.
A few days before I left we went to the Wiener Eistraum (ice-dream). As a kid I did a lot of roller skating (I'm sure you remember it well, mom and dad) and I suppose that these skills just transferred to ice skating without me being conscious of it. I had therefore arrived at the conclusion that ice skating is a natural kind of movement that most people can pick up quickly. Several pieces of evidence presented themselves against this idea. Nick didn't think that he would be able to ice skate, because when he was a kid he couldn't even stand still on roller skates. But no, I told him, standing on ice skates is like standing in regular shoes, and skating is just as easy as walking. He definitely could not ice skate. But he tried really hard for about an hour to do it, and I'm convinced that by the end he had actually improved noticeably. I am proud to say that Nick can at least walk on non-ice surfaces in the skates - that's something, isn't it? So after awhile Nick decided to just sit down and so I skated for a few hours by myself.
I ended up having a great time because the setup was so wonderful: the Eistraum consists of two skating rinks and four lengthy paths. The paths were pretty fun, except that there were often slow and unpredictable children on them blocking my way. These children were the second piece of evidence against my ice skating theory, because they were falling over left and right on the ice. It was obvious that kids have to learn to skate. I actually fell one time while I was skating alone. I was trying to go fast and my legs were getting tired, and so as I picked up my left foot while skating through one of the rinks the toe of the skate got briefly stuck in the ice. So I stumbled for what seemed like awhile, and then I decided to just take myself down while I had enough control to do it safely. I decided to slide on my stomach because I was wearing lots of clothes and this would likely protect my hands. As I slid along the ice I started laughing at myself and a couple passing by me gave me odd looks.One of the main reasons the thought of protecting my hands crossed my mind in that moment was because I was scheduled to play a concert at the US ambassador to France's residence the day after my return to Paris. This was a stressful concert for me because I had no piano. I either practiced in the music library for limited amounts of time or rehearsed with the vocalist in a very nice space at a Parisian university. Then I spent the two weeks before the concert in Paris, which meant the vocalist and I had to do final rehearsals two weeks early, and then quickly regroup the day of the concert.
I played fairly well - there were 10 songs and it really depended on the song. It's hard after not performing publicly for over a year to go out and stay poised throughout a concert. The ambassador's house in Paris is quite lavish - the fixed architectural decor was in a neo-Baroque style while the furniture was more modern but still uppity. The ambassador is frankly a total jerk, which I already knew because he had appeared briefly at a Fulbright event earlier in the year. He for some reason didn't say anything to me when he met with us musicians and then he actually left the room where we performed during my performance (other people who were there think they saw him leaving with an important looking man, perhaps another ambassador). Several of the other Fulbright scholars came to the concert; I wasn't expecting them and it was very nice to see them. We went out for a drink together afterward and were eventually asked to leave a bar because we were being too loud. What?
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Finished the puzzle!
Jane has been here in Vienna for about a week and we've done a bunch of stuff that we'll blog about soon. More importantly, though, we finished our puzzle.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
On Television and Taxes
*Nick in Vienna
I, like many people in America and Austria, have been watching quite a bit of the winter olympics this past week. The Austrians really like the winter olympics because it seems like everyone here loves to ski and skate. The public school system here takes a "ski week" where everybody takes off of school to go skiing. Seriously, I'm not kidding about this. While Americas are fretting over test scores and trying to add more hours to the school day, Austrians are saying, screw it, let's just all go skiing this week. Mind you, they still take religious holidays (far more than in the US) so this is just an extra week off.
Anyway, this post is about television in Austria and Europe in general. I've got cable here at my apartment and I watch a fair amount to practice my german. The primary difference is there are way, way less commercials. I first really noticed this during the Super Bowl a few weeks ago which was picked up by a local cable channel. During the game, which as far as I am concerned is a 5 hour commercial sometimes interrupted by a football game few people care about (I'm a baseball fan first, you see) they took very, very few commercial breaks. This was really odd. They were using the American feed, so it was very easy to tell when the Americans had cut to commercials, such as after punts, timeouts, injuries, etc. The Austrians rarely went to commercial, but instead played highlights of the game or talked about football in general. They only took a commercial break between quarters and at halftime. As another example, yesterday I was watching a replay of an olympic hockey game. Since it wasn't live they could do whatever they wanted (the games was originally played at about 4 am European time). What they did was never take a commercial. Not even between periods. As soon as one ended they just started the next.
But how do the television stations make money, you may be asking. In Austria and France, and probably in other countries but I don't know, they have a "TV tax." If you own a television set you pay a tax on it. That money is used to subsidize the stations (several of which are run by the government) so they can run programming without commercials ever 8-10 minutes (and if I had to guess are forced by law to not run too many commercials).
I'm of mixed feelings about this. On the one hand, TV watching is far more enjoyable and it does seem like Austrians are less materialistic (subjective, I know). We don't have kids yet, but I can imagine it is a pain if your kid sees 100 toy commercials a day. Here that doesn't happen.
On the other hand, the TV tax is very weird. I, as with many americans, believe that information should be freely available to citizens for a democracy to properly function. There is also a radio tax here, meaning that for a person to have a device that allows them to get local and national news, they have to pay a tax for it (I don't know how much the tax is, but I think it is around 250 euros a year for tv). Most Americans pay far more than that per year if they have cable or digital cable, but there are many who can't afford cable and their primary source of information is the local evening news.
I, like many people in America and Austria, have been watching quite a bit of the winter olympics this past week. The Austrians really like the winter olympics because it seems like everyone here loves to ski and skate. The public school system here takes a "ski week" where everybody takes off of school to go skiing. Seriously, I'm not kidding about this. While Americas are fretting over test scores and trying to add more hours to the school day, Austrians are saying, screw it, let's just all go skiing this week. Mind you, they still take religious holidays (far more than in the US) so this is just an extra week off.
Anyway, this post is about television in Austria and Europe in general. I've got cable here at my apartment and I watch a fair amount to practice my german. The primary difference is there are way, way less commercials. I first really noticed this during the Super Bowl a few weeks ago which was picked up by a local cable channel. During the game, which as far as I am concerned is a 5 hour commercial sometimes interrupted by a football game few people care about (I'm a baseball fan first, you see) they took very, very few commercial breaks. This was really odd. They were using the American feed, so it was very easy to tell when the Americans had cut to commercials, such as after punts, timeouts, injuries, etc. The Austrians rarely went to commercial, but instead played highlights of the game or talked about football in general. They only took a commercial break between quarters and at halftime. As another example, yesterday I was watching a replay of an olympic hockey game. Since it wasn't live they could do whatever they wanted (the games was originally played at about 4 am European time). What they did was never take a commercial. Not even between periods. As soon as one ended they just started the next.
But how do the television stations make money, you may be asking. In Austria and France, and probably in other countries but I don't know, they have a "TV tax." If you own a television set you pay a tax on it. That money is used to subsidize the stations (several of which are run by the government) so they can run programming without commercials ever 8-10 minutes (and if I had to guess are forced by law to not run too many commercials).
I'm of mixed feelings about this. On the one hand, TV watching is far more enjoyable and it does seem like Austrians are less materialistic (subjective, I know). We don't have kids yet, but I can imagine it is a pain if your kid sees 100 toy commercials a day. Here that doesn't happen.
On the other hand, the TV tax is very weird. I, as with many americans, believe that information should be freely available to citizens for a democracy to properly function. There is also a radio tax here, meaning that for a person to have a device that allows them to get local and national news, they have to pay a tax for it (I don't know how much the tax is, but I think it is around 250 euros a year for tv). Most Americans pay far more than that per year if they have cable or digital cable, but there are many who can't afford cable and their primary source of information is the local evening news.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Can you repeat that?
*Jane in Paris*
According to the Fulbright Commission, I officially passed the halfway point of my 9 month grant yesterday. The date also served as a deadline for my midyear report, which concerned the progress of my research and integration into French culture. As I answered the questions I realized that I am certainly not wasting the time given to me.
My contact with real French people increased from almost nothing when I decided to join a French Protestant church one month ago. Since then I have attended four worship services given entirely in French, eaten a meal with several other church goers three times, and last week I attempted the scariest thing for the first time: attending the college student group. This was stressful because as tends to be the case in the US, younger people speak very fast, and like in English one can take a lot of short cuts and use a lot of slang in modern French. But I want to learn how to speak real French, with real French people, so I had to go.
The youth pastor of the church is British, but he speaks French fluently and just as fast as the students. The group consisted of about 10 of us, who filtered in slowly as we gathered at the beginning to eat dinner. During dinner I spoke a little bit about myself and tried to hang on to stories the other students told at a blistering pace. After the meal we sang some Christian songs, and some of them were funny to me because they were American songs that I knew quite well that had been translated ("Lord I Lift Your Name on High" was one of them). Then we undertook a fairly complicated conversation that combined the Lord of the Rings, the Bible, and how the modern Christian fits into history. As it seems conversations with young Christians often go these days, we ended up in a heated argument about the afterlife. I say "we" because by this point I could understand most of the conversation well, and I had things to say in my head, but the pace of the discussion was much too fast for me to interject. Alex, the leader, had to call for us to stop talking several times before it finally happened.
So on the one hand I feel like my ability to comprehend spoken French has really gotten better, but my speaking ability is still frustratingly inconsistent. I find that because rhythm and exact pronunciation are so integral to speaking French I need to warm up. Today, for instance, I had to go pick up a package in a small town outside of France, and when the man at the reception desk began speaking to me with a heavy non-French accent I couldn't understand him at all. "Oh, you are not French," he said after awhile. It's still difficult for me to speak with someone suddenly like this. The longer I speak with someone the better I tend to pronounce things and to use more complex grammatical constructions. Because I speak the language so inconsistently I have gotten everything from "she is injuring the French language" (an exchange between two people at a US university fair that I understood perfectly well) to "you speak French very well." I think that sometimes people say the latter to mean that I pronounce the language well, which is no small feat in itself.
It's fun to take note of the strange changes taking place in the brain when I am learning a new language. When I spent two months in Germany as an undergraduate I experienced a period of about a week towards the beginning of my stay when I forgot scores of English words (one of them was "surprise," for instance). I could actually tell that my brain was rearranging the structures that deal with language to make room for German. Then when I began to learn French a year later German always seemed to get in the way, especially when it came to numbers. Now that I am living in France but spending considerable time in Austria as well it isn't too difficult for me to switch between the two languages. The French, however, is now impinging upon the German in my head because my German pronunciation has become to my ear quite tainted by French sounds. Nick is in the process of learning to speak German with real Germanophones at the same time, and so there are often funny moments during our Skype conversations where neither of us are getting our English out very well.
I would be interested to hear about other people's experiences with foreign language. It has been so difficult to learn these languages over the last ten years, but persevering until I actually got them "in my head" has been an ample reward.
According to the Fulbright Commission, I officially passed the halfway point of my 9 month grant yesterday. The date also served as a deadline for my midyear report, which concerned the progress of my research and integration into French culture. As I answered the questions I realized that I am certainly not wasting the time given to me.
My contact with real French people increased from almost nothing when I decided to join a French Protestant church one month ago. Since then I have attended four worship services given entirely in French, eaten a meal with several other church goers three times, and last week I attempted the scariest thing for the first time: attending the college student group. This was stressful because as tends to be the case in the US, younger people speak very fast, and like in English one can take a lot of short cuts and use a lot of slang in modern French. But I want to learn how to speak real French, with real French people, so I had to go.
The youth pastor of the church is British, but he speaks French fluently and just as fast as the students. The group consisted of about 10 of us, who filtered in slowly as we gathered at the beginning to eat dinner. During dinner I spoke a little bit about myself and tried to hang on to stories the other students told at a blistering pace. After the meal we sang some Christian songs, and some of them were funny to me because they were American songs that I knew quite well that had been translated ("Lord I Lift Your Name on High" was one of them). Then we undertook a fairly complicated conversation that combined the Lord of the Rings, the Bible, and how the modern Christian fits into history. As it seems conversations with young Christians often go these days, we ended up in a heated argument about the afterlife. I say "we" because by this point I could understand most of the conversation well, and I had things to say in my head, but the pace of the discussion was much too fast for me to interject. Alex, the leader, had to call for us to stop talking several times before it finally happened.
So on the one hand I feel like my ability to comprehend spoken French has really gotten better, but my speaking ability is still frustratingly inconsistent. I find that because rhythm and exact pronunciation are so integral to speaking French I need to warm up. Today, for instance, I had to go pick up a package in a small town outside of France, and when the man at the reception desk began speaking to me with a heavy non-French accent I couldn't understand him at all. "Oh, you are not French," he said after awhile. It's still difficult for me to speak with someone suddenly like this. The longer I speak with someone the better I tend to pronounce things and to use more complex grammatical constructions. Because I speak the language so inconsistently I have gotten everything from "she is injuring the French language" (an exchange between two people at a US university fair that I understood perfectly well) to "you speak French very well." I think that sometimes people say the latter to mean that I pronounce the language well, which is no small feat in itself.
It's fun to take note of the strange changes taking place in the brain when I am learning a new language. When I spent two months in Germany as an undergraduate I experienced a period of about a week towards the beginning of my stay when I forgot scores of English words (one of them was "surprise," for instance). I could actually tell that my brain was rearranging the structures that deal with language to make room for German. Then when I began to learn French a year later German always seemed to get in the way, especially when it came to numbers. Now that I am living in France but spending considerable time in Austria as well it isn't too difficult for me to switch between the two languages. The French, however, is now impinging upon the German in my head because my German pronunciation has become to my ear quite tainted by French sounds. Nick is in the process of learning to speak German with real Germanophones at the same time, and so there are often funny moments during our Skype conversations where neither of us are getting our English out very well.
I would be interested to hear about other people's experiences with foreign language. It has been so difficult to learn these languages over the last ten years, but persevering until I actually got them "in my head" has been an ample reward.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Doing a Puzzle
*Nick in Vienna
Jane and I write a lot about all the highfalutin things we do in Paris and Vienna, but a large chunk of our time is spent doing normal activities. When Jane was here last week for a quick visit we didn't do any operas, ballets, or museums, but instead mostly stayed home (except when we went rock climbing and out with Mason) and worked on a puzzle. I will say that Austrians really seem to like puzzles. We walked to a store somewhat like Target and they had a huge puzzle section, all of them of very high quality and made in Germany. Anyway, it was very nice to just stay in for a couple days and work on the puzzle, which we didn't finish but will still be here at the end of February when Jane comes back. Mason, however, did not seem to care for the puzzle. We think he could tell we were doing something fun but he couldn't take part. He mainly just paced around and whined because he wasn't getting our attention (which he got plenty of, trust me).
Jane and I write a lot about all the highfalutin things we do in Paris and Vienna, but a large chunk of our time is spent doing normal activities. When Jane was here last week for a quick visit we didn't do any operas, ballets, or museums, but instead mostly stayed home (except when we went rock climbing and out with Mason) and worked on a puzzle. I will say that Austrians really seem to like puzzles. We walked to a store somewhat like Target and they had a huge puzzle section, all of them of very high quality and made in Germany. Anyway, it was very nice to just stay in for a couple days and work on the puzzle, which we didn't finish but will still be here at the end of February when Jane comes back. Mason, however, did not seem to care for the puzzle. We think he could tell we were doing something fun but he couldn't take part. He mainly just paced around and whined because he wasn't getting our attention (which he got plenty of, trust me).
Friday, February 5, 2010
French Kissing
*Jane in Vienna*
I am writing from the Vienna airport, on my way back to Paris after a short visit to see Nick and Mason. I wanted to talk briefly about a custom that the French are famous for, and that I am learning about: "faire la bise" or making the kiss of greeting. I can confirm that the ritual is still alive and well in French culture. This is something that French people do to show intimacy with another person, either because they are already in some kind of relationship to each other or because among strangers the possibility of a relationship is being initiated. The first time anyone ever did this to me was at a party that I may have blogged about that took place in October. Although I knew only one other guest, when I arrived every person there gave me the kiss, even though I had never met any of them before. The reason was because of the type of the event, a party, and also the fact that we all appeared to be about the same age. So it was as though everyone was welcoming me and letting me know that it was ok to treat them casually and to use familiar forms of speech. At the party I met a couple who lives in Paris, and I have since seen them several times, and we always make the kiss to greet each other. At the church that I have been attending for the past month the first time I went to the worship service no one talked to me (I didn't really give anyone a chance to), so no kiss. The second time I actually met quite a few people, but no kisses were exchanged. Oh but last week! - every single person I had met the week before greeted me with the kiss. So because I am getting to know this group of people at L'eglise du marais I will be exchanging the greeting kiss dozens of times a week.
It's surprisingly easy to get used to. Everytime I've done it you go to the left first. Three kisses is unusual - no one has ever done this to me, but I have seen it, especially among older people. I think maybe this is done if people have known each other for along time. You actually touch the other person's cheeks with your own, which to me is something more intimate than a hug. Everyone's cheeks are always soft, although I have exchanged the greeting kiss with bearded men, and this is kind of strange. Perhaps this ritual encourages French men to be clean shaven - I feel like I don't see a lot of beards in Paris. Hugs in the US don't really say anything to me, other than to tell me whether or not another person likes to hug. And there is always ambiguity about whether or not to hug someone - do you know each other well enough, does the other person hug or not? But in France there are seemingly unwritten rules for the kiss, and I feel like it really means something. When the people at the church gave me the kiss I felt strongly welcomed by the community, even though people had been a little shy to speak to me at first. I think attending the lunch meals, which I have now done twice, indicated to the group that I was interested in having community and not just attending the service.
So in some, I am fond of this French custom. I don't think it would work in the US though - every time I see Americans making the kiss it seems snobby to me. Perhaps when I return I won't feel this way - I suppose you'll have to see what I do when I see you all again this summer.
I am writing from the Vienna airport, on my way back to Paris after a short visit to see Nick and Mason. I wanted to talk briefly about a custom that the French are famous for, and that I am learning about: "faire la bise" or making the kiss of greeting. I can confirm that the ritual is still alive and well in French culture. This is something that French people do to show intimacy with another person, either because they are already in some kind of relationship to each other or because among strangers the possibility of a relationship is being initiated. The first time anyone ever did this to me was at a party that I may have blogged about that took place in October. Although I knew only one other guest, when I arrived every person there gave me the kiss, even though I had never met any of them before. The reason was because of the type of the event, a party, and also the fact that we all appeared to be about the same age. So it was as though everyone was welcoming me and letting me know that it was ok to treat them casually and to use familiar forms of speech. At the party I met a couple who lives in Paris, and I have since seen them several times, and we always make the kiss to greet each other. At the church that I have been attending for the past month the first time I went to the worship service no one talked to me (I didn't really give anyone a chance to), so no kiss. The second time I actually met quite a few people, but no kisses were exchanged. Oh but last week! - every single person I had met the week before greeted me with the kiss. So because I am getting to know this group of people at L'eglise du marais I will be exchanging the greeting kiss dozens of times a week.
It's surprisingly easy to get used to. Everytime I've done it you go to the left first. Three kisses is unusual - no one has ever done this to me, but I have seen it, especially among older people. I think maybe this is done if people have known each other for along time. You actually touch the other person's cheeks with your own, which to me is something more intimate than a hug. Everyone's cheeks are always soft, although I have exchanged the greeting kiss with bearded men, and this is kind of strange. Perhaps this ritual encourages French men to be clean shaven - I feel like I don't see a lot of beards in Paris. Hugs in the US don't really say anything to me, other than to tell me whether or not another person likes to hug. And there is always ambiguity about whether or not to hug someone - do you know each other well enough, does the other person hug or not? But in France there are seemingly unwritten rules for the kiss, and I feel like it really means something. When the people at the church gave me the kiss I felt strongly welcomed by the community, even though people had been a little shy to speak to me at first. I think attending the lunch meals, which I have now done twice, indicated to the group that I was interested in having community and not just attending the service.
So in some, I am fond of this French custom. I don't think it would work in the US though - every time I see Americans making the kiss it seems snobby to me. Perhaps when I return I won't feel this way - I suppose you'll have to see what I do when I see you all again this summer.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Vienna Community Church
*Nick in Vienna
I thought I might write a bit about the church community I've found here in Vienna because some of you might be interested. I've been attending the Vienna Community Church, and English speaking church that is open to all denominations. It meets downtown in a Lutheran church at noon and has been around for a little over 50 years. The services themselves are a mix of various traditions, but probably most closely resembles Lutheran services because the current pastor is Lutheran. The music is quite good - hymns with a nice organ, but overall the service is more relaxed than ordinary liturgical services in the states.
The best thing about the church is the diversity. As many of you sadly know, American churches tend to be very segregated. That is certainly not the case here, mainly just because there aren't a lot of English options here (there are some English Catholic masses and I think a Methodist church in English here as well). Today alone I talked to at least one person from America, England, China, Korea, Nigeria, Egypt, Honduras, Japan, Germany, Austria, Scotland, Hungary, and some others I can't remember. For a lot of people at the church English is their second language, but they know it better than German. We did Communion today and it is really quite a wonderful and beautiful thing to celebrate our faith with people from all over the world.
There is also a young adult group where I have met pretty much all of my friends here. We meet every two weeks for dinner and I've gotten to know some of them quite well and have done quite a bit of stuff outside of the church. It's not quite the cohort in Columbus, but it has proven to be quite the blessing.
I thought I might write a bit about the church community I've found here in Vienna because some of you might be interested. I've been attending the Vienna Community Church, and English speaking church that is open to all denominations. It meets downtown in a Lutheran church at noon and has been around for a little over 50 years. The services themselves are a mix of various traditions, but probably most closely resembles Lutheran services because the current pastor is Lutheran. The music is quite good - hymns with a nice organ, but overall the service is more relaxed than ordinary liturgical services in the states.
The best thing about the church is the diversity. As many of you sadly know, American churches tend to be very segregated. That is certainly not the case here, mainly just because there aren't a lot of English options here (there are some English Catholic masses and I think a Methodist church in English here as well). Today alone I talked to at least one person from America, England, China, Korea, Nigeria, Egypt, Honduras, Japan, Germany, Austria, Scotland, Hungary, and some others I can't remember. For a lot of people at the church English is their second language, but they know it better than German. We did Communion today and it is really quite a wonderful and beautiful thing to celebrate our faith with people from all over the world.
There is also a young adult group where I have met pretty much all of my friends here. We meet every two weeks for dinner and I've gotten to know some of them quite well and have done quite a bit of stuff outside of the church. It's not quite the cohort in Columbus, but it has proven to be quite the blessing.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Two nights. Two operas.
*Nick in Vienna
This past weekend I went to an opera on both Saturday and Sunday night. Saturday was Montiverdi's L'incoronazione di Poppea at the Theater an der Wien and Sunday was standing room for Mozart's Don Giovanni. They were both fantastic and I thought I would write just a bit about it.
For Saturday I had an actual seat, the cheapest in the house, but still, an actual seat. It was in a side box on the lowest level in the third row back. I could see decent enough and see the words in German. Poppea is one of the oldest operas (1642-43). The theater itself was very nice. It is amazing that Vienna can support four full-running opera houses. That is ridiculous. Columbus has a handful of operas a year. Vienna, which actually isn't a ton bigger (1 million vs. 2 million) has on most nights 4 operas or ballets in town, as well as multiple orchestra and chamber music concerts. Every performance I've been to so far has been packed, so I don't think they are hurting. The Theater an der Wien concentrates on Baroque operas and premiers from the 21st century.
Sunday night I did standing room for Don Giovanni at the Staatsoper (the big one that I have been to multiple times). It was also fantastic. The conductor, who I could see from my spot in the balcony, did not even open his score. He conducted the whole 3 1/2 hour opera from memory, which is pretty amazing.
Anyway, I hate to keep rambling about these, but it is fast becoming a pretty important part of my life. I am pretty sure I can say that my two favorite forms of entertainment are baseball games and operas, which might be an odd combination and would be sweet if they could be combined. I'm pretty sure that means that we will end up in Nebraska or something, where I can't get either one. But seriously, after I had some sort of weird personal crisis in Paris when we went to see Platee I just can't get enough. So, am I a loser now, or just super pretentious?
Well, enough rambling. Tomorrow I'm actually going to the ballet with Kendra (Jane's cousin) and I'm pretty excited.
This past weekend I went to an opera on both Saturday and Sunday night. Saturday was Montiverdi's L'incoronazione di Poppea at the Theater an der Wien and Sunday was standing room for Mozart's Don Giovanni. They were both fantastic and I thought I would write just a bit about it.
For Saturday I had an actual seat, the cheapest in the house, but still, an actual seat. It was in a side box on the lowest level in the third row back. I could see decent enough and see the words in German. Poppea is one of the oldest operas (1642-43). The theater itself was very nice. It is amazing that Vienna can support four full-running opera houses. That is ridiculous. Columbus has a handful of operas a year. Vienna, which actually isn't a ton bigger (1 million vs. 2 million) has on most nights 4 operas or ballets in town, as well as multiple orchestra and chamber music concerts. Every performance I've been to so far has been packed, so I don't think they are hurting. The Theater an der Wien concentrates on Baroque operas and premiers from the 21st century.
Sunday night I did standing room for Don Giovanni at the Staatsoper (the big one that I have been to multiple times). It was also fantastic. The conductor, who I could see from my spot in the balcony, did not even open his score. He conducted the whole 3 1/2 hour opera from memory, which is pretty amazing.
Anyway, I hate to keep rambling about these, but it is fast becoming a pretty important part of my life. I am pretty sure I can say that my two favorite forms of entertainment are baseball games and operas, which might be an odd combination and would be sweet if they could be combined. I'm pretty sure that means that we will end up in Nebraska or something, where I can't get either one. But seriously, after I had some sort of weird personal crisis in Paris when we went to see Platee I just can't get enough. So, am I a loser now, or just super pretentious?
Well, enough rambling. Tomorrow I'm actually going to the ballet with Kendra (Jane's cousin) and I'm pretty excited.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
And then we were at a hootenanny...
*Jane in Paris*
Last night I met my friend Christine, who is on a Fulbright as a UNESCO intern in Paris, for a drink. We met at the Republique metro stop and then headed down Avenue de la Republique, to an area favored by young Parisians (I don't think it has a name, really). We stopped at the first place we saw that seemed enticing and calm enough that we could carry on a conversation, an unassuming place on a corner named Downtown Cafe. We sat on a couch and drank Belgian beers, catching up on Christmas and life in Paris. Meanwhile, a charismatic woman kept coming over to us and asking if we were doing alright, and then she told us to go downstairs because there would be something "very nice to listen to." We didn't obey, and she returned 20 minutes later, took our hands, and lead us down a spiral staircase to the basement. Immediately we heard music, but it was strange because there seemed to be several voices singing together. The lights were dim, the ceiling was low and arched, and benches lined the wall of a small room. There was a woman performing, playing the cello and singing, looping cello parts on top of each other. Her performance in itself wasn't strange, because from what I can tell looping and the use of unconventional instruments is in right now among Parisian musicians. What was strange was that other people were singing with her. Eventually another mike appeared, and a woman improvised a countermelody to the cellist's chorus, and then more mikes appeared and a circle formed and all of these guys started rapping. And this wasn't trivial corporate rap a la Jay-Z, this was a discourse about deep social issues. The singing and the rapping was sometimes in French, sometimes in English. At first the rappers were who you would expect - super cool looking black guys. But then white guys began to take turns too, and they were all so ordinary in their appearance that I never would have guessed that they rapped. By day they probably work behind a desk at some bank. By the time another girl had assembled her flute and begun to play along everyone in the room was standing (except for Christine and I - we weren't sure what to do with ourselves). Then the crowd parted to let in a woman playing a tenor sax, who went to go stand by the flutist, and the two began improvising in tandem. I couldn't predict what would happen: sometimes many people would start to sing and loudly, other times no one would even be clapping while one of the guys rapped. The woman who had made us come down to the party came over one more time and made us start singing along, which I did gladly because to me the situation felt a lot like worship in church. It didn't matter though, we had to do it. Next to us were some older women who mostly danced to the music but would occasionally sing. On the floor a little toddler was attempting to break dance.
I was struck by how in this situation personal identity was insignificant - the crowd was diverse in many ways (class, race, age) and from appearances not the kind of people I would expect to associate together. Everyone was free to act how they wanted, and no one else in the room was going to judge them or lay down boundaries. The diverse appearances of the rappers especially impressed me. For the past few days I had been ruminating over Jesus' words that "when two or more are gathered together in my name I will be in their midst." I had been thinking that maybe the verse can be taken as a comment on the strongly social nature of humans, and of the powerful effect that communal experiences have on us, especially when we come together in a loving and humble way. Then I found myself in this hootenanny last night, which seemed to strongly support this notion. After awhile Christine and I went back upstairs. Around 11pm the gathering stopped, and on their way out some of the participants said goodbye to us. It seemed like before the music began the bar was handing out a free dinner on paper plates - this made more sense after we witnessed such a communal eruption. I asked a guy standing near the bar if this had been a planned event (obviously these people knew each other, so it was somewhat planned). But no, he said, it wasn't planned, it just happened.
Last night I met my friend Christine, who is on a Fulbright as a UNESCO intern in Paris, for a drink. We met at the Republique metro stop and then headed down Avenue de la Republique, to an area favored by young Parisians (I don't think it has a name, really). We stopped at the first place we saw that seemed enticing and calm enough that we could carry on a conversation, an unassuming place on a corner named Downtown Cafe. We sat on a couch and drank Belgian beers, catching up on Christmas and life in Paris. Meanwhile, a charismatic woman kept coming over to us and asking if we were doing alright, and then she told us to go downstairs because there would be something "very nice to listen to." We didn't obey, and she returned 20 minutes later, took our hands, and lead us down a spiral staircase to the basement. Immediately we heard music, but it was strange because there seemed to be several voices singing together. The lights were dim, the ceiling was low and arched, and benches lined the wall of a small room. There was a woman performing, playing the cello and singing, looping cello parts on top of each other. Her performance in itself wasn't strange, because from what I can tell looping and the use of unconventional instruments is in right now among Parisian musicians. What was strange was that other people were singing with her. Eventually another mike appeared, and a woman improvised a countermelody to the cellist's chorus, and then more mikes appeared and a circle formed and all of these guys started rapping. And this wasn't trivial corporate rap a la Jay-Z, this was a discourse about deep social issues. The singing and the rapping was sometimes in French, sometimes in English. At first the rappers were who you would expect - super cool looking black guys. But then white guys began to take turns too, and they were all so ordinary in their appearance that I never would have guessed that they rapped. By day they probably work behind a desk at some bank. By the time another girl had assembled her flute and begun to play along everyone in the room was standing (except for Christine and I - we weren't sure what to do with ourselves). Then the crowd parted to let in a woman playing a tenor sax, who went to go stand by the flutist, and the two began improvising in tandem. I couldn't predict what would happen: sometimes many people would start to sing and loudly, other times no one would even be clapping while one of the guys rapped. The woman who had made us come down to the party came over one more time and made us start singing along, which I did gladly because to me the situation felt a lot like worship in church. It didn't matter though, we had to do it. Next to us were some older women who mostly danced to the music but would occasionally sing. On the floor a little toddler was attempting to break dance.
I was struck by how in this situation personal identity was insignificant - the crowd was diverse in many ways (class, race, age) and from appearances not the kind of people I would expect to associate together. Everyone was free to act how they wanted, and no one else in the room was going to judge them or lay down boundaries. The diverse appearances of the rappers especially impressed me. For the past few days I had been ruminating over Jesus' words that "when two or more are gathered together in my name I will be in their midst." I had been thinking that maybe the verse can be taken as a comment on the strongly social nature of humans, and of the powerful effect that communal experiences have on us, especially when we come together in a loving and humble way. Then I found myself in this hootenanny last night, which seemed to strongly support this notion. After awhile Christine and I went back upstairs. Around 11pm the gathering stopped, and on their way out some of the participants said goodbye to us. It seemed like before the music began the bar was handing out a free dinner on paper plates - this made more sense after we witnessed such a communal eruption. I asked a guy standing near the bar if this had been a planned event (obviously these people knew each other, so it was somewhat planned). But no, he said, it wasn't planned, it just happened.
Friday, January 22, 2010
On Melk
*Nick in Vienna
I promised awhile back that I would write something about Melk, a monastery town that we visited with my family as a day-trip when they were here over Christmas. I mainly just want to show some pictures because it was an amazing place.
We left in the morning and caught a train to Melk from Vienna that took a little over an hour. They have a ticket here where 5 people can ride for 27 euros on a regional train, which is a pretty amazing deal. I, like most Americans, continue to be amazed and very jealous of Europe's train system. I realize it is unlikely that Americans will ever have something like this, but I, for one, would be more than willing to have higher taxes to have more trains, but I hate driving.
Anyway, we arrived in the town and started heading to the monastery. Luckily it wasn't too difficult to find because it looks like this (my brother took this picture). It was a very cold, windy day but that seemed to cut down on the tourists which was nice (and kind of a theme of my family's visit). We managed to get there just in time for a tour of the monastery in German and English - not sure if that was planned or we just go lucky. The tour is the only way to see the monastery, which is still functioning, and they keep pretty close tabs on us. They locked every room right after we left it, for example. The tour was very interesting, and if you ever find yourself in Austria definitely worth your time and money (especially if your parents are paying for it). One highlight was a reusable coffin, which I sadly don't have a picture of.
Half way through the tour we went out onto a terrace. Even though it was very cold the view was quite spectacular. I imagine it is also very lovely in summer, but I thought Melk did quite well for itself in the winter.
Next we went through a really cool library (that I might end up using) and then the highlight, an extremely lavishly decorated baroque church. I've never really been in anything quite like it, and I've been in quite a few churches over here. Here are a couple pictures, including one of the bones of a saint (can't recall which one).
After the church we made our way into the town for a very nice late lunch. We then walked around the town for a little while, but it was really just too cold to do much else, so we headed back to Vienna.
I promised awhile back that I would write something about Melk, a monastery town that we visited with my family as a day-trip when they were here over Christmas. I mainly just want to show some pictures because it was an amazing place.
We left in the morning and caught a train to Melk from Vienna that took a little over an hour. They have a ticket here where 5 people can ride for 27 euros on a regional train, which is a pretty amazing deal. I, like most Americans, continue to be amazed and very jealous of Europe's train system. I realize it is unlikely that Americans will ever have something like this, but I, for one, would be more than willing to have higher taxes to have more trains, but I hate driving.
Anyway, we arrived in the town and started heading to the monastery. Luckily it wasn't too difficult to find because it looks like this (my brother took this picture). It was a very cold, windy day but that seemed to cut down on the tourists which was nice (and kind of a theme of my family's visit). We managed to get there just in time for a tour of the monastery in German and English - not sure if that was planned or we just go lucky. The tour is the only way to see the monastery, which is still functioning, and they keep pretty close tabs on us. They locked every room right after we left it, for example. The tour was very interesting, and if you ever find yourself in Austria definitely worth your time and money (especially if your parents are paying for it). One highlight was a reusable coffin, which I sadly don't have a picture of.
Half way through the tour we went out onto a terrace. Even though it was very cold the view was quite spectacular. I imagine it is also very lovely in summer, but I thought Melk did quite well for itself in the winter.
Next we went through a really cool library (that I might end up using) and then the highlight, an extremely lavishly decorated baroque church. I've never really been in anything quite like it, and I've been in quite a few churches over here. Here are a couple pictures, including one of the bones of a saint (can't recall which one).
After the church we made our way into the town for a very nice late lunch. We then walked around the town for a little while, but it was really just too cold to do much else, so we headed back to Vienna.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Sabbath
*Jane in Paris*
The grants, the holidays, and the settling in period is finally over and upon returning to Paris I have been longing to find spiritual activities here. I had attended the American Church once and it was just fine, but for some reason it doesn't excite me. I've attended mass at St. Laurent, the church closest to my apartment, a few times, and while I enjoy the experience it can only be so fulfilling because I'm not Catholic. I realized that what I wanted was to get involved with a French protestant church. After several hours of online research Saturday night I ended up attending L'eglise reformee du Marais, because this modern denomination, the Reformed Protestant Church, descended from the Huguenots - it doesn't get more French protestant than this. The service seemed to be a mix of Catholic, liturgical protestant, and evangelical elements - we said the Lord's prayer and some other group liturgical texts (reminded me of Mass), we took Communion all standing around the perimeter of the sanctuary and we were allowed to drink the wine (reminded me of Lutheran church), and we listened to a short teaching by the pastor on the Gospel reading for that day, the baptism of Jesus (reminded me of evangelical-style preaching. The pastor talked about how only a few people knew that Jesus was something special before the moment of his baptism, and how by doing this Jesus began his public ministry by indicating that he was choosing a spiritual rather than a simply biological life. There was a meal after the service, but I felt too nervous to stay, and I am also getting over a mild cold. The plan is to go back next week and stay for the meal, no matter how awkward I feel. If you are interested their website (all in French, I think) is temple.dumarais.fr
A very different kind of spiritual thing that I plan to do is to attend a Sahaja Yoga meditation on Thursday night, held for free by the Sahaja group here in Paris in the 18th district. Some of you know that I have been doing this in Columbus for the past several months. I've let my discipline slide since I came to Europe, but I want to start it again.
At about 1 pm on Sunday I was talking to Nick on Skype when I began to hear an amplified voice speaking from somewhere nearby. This isn't an unusual occurrence here because I live next to Place de la Republique, a common meeting place for protesters. I ran out the door to see what was happening, and it was the start of an anti-abortion protest. I had planned on taking a walk that afternoon because it was 50 degrees and somewhat sunny, and so I decided to make the march into my walk. The press estimates that 20,000-25,000 people were present. Here are some pictures:
We marched from Republique to the Opera, shown in the second picture. This isn't a great picture of the building but I like it because of the guy wearing the sweet robe on the right. I saw a lot of priests and bishops marching, and they all looked awesome. There were a lot of young people - it seemed like the youth groups of a lot of churches from the provinces (France excluding Paris) had come in for the march. There were also delegations from other countries like Poland and Italy. The US was represented by me, although no one else knew this, and a San Fransisco delegation. For all of the kids the event was a time to socialize within their group, but they also seemed quite passionate and would chant when the organizers asked us to. The organizers were on three trucks loaded with speakers, and they would shout out facts and make short speeches to the crowds we passed. They would also play the current pop hits to draw attention to us and to get keep the energy of the marchers up. In between the music selections the organizers would start chants; one of them was a fun song that went like this: "If I were president of the Republique, not a single child would ever meet a tragic end. I would do my best for the smallest of men. Children would be protected if I were president of the Republique." It was all in French and rhymed, and there was even an instrumental part that went with it.
Here is what I learned from my experience:
1) No one goes to protests alone (except for me) - they are very social events
2) The various groups that are in the march move at different speeds, and the outside of the crowd moves faster than the middle, so you have to be careful and keep up the pace or before you know it hundreds of people have passed you and the stroller brigade is ramming your heels (there were a lot of parents who marched with small children in tow)
3) Parisians enjoy their protests. I was a little worried about how onlookers might respond to us, because I have no idea about the abortion debate here. I also thought people might just ignore us because there are protests and demonstrations that leave from Republique at least once a month here. But, pleasantly, a lot of people came out to the streets and watched us, and everyone was respectful. People snapped pictures and gazed at us from their balconies. The only people who were angry with us were those who unfortunately needed to cross the street as we were passing.
So that was my Sunday! No work, no shopping at the crazy sales that are going on in Paris right now. Just good old French protestant church and a pro-life march.
The grants, the holidays, and the settling in period is finally over and upon returning to Paris I have been longing to find spiritual activities here. I had attended the American Church once and it was just fine, but for some reason it doesn't excite me. I've attended mass at St. Laurent, the church closest to my apartment, a few times, and while I enjoy the experience it can only be so fulfilling because I'm not Catholic. I realized that what I wanted was to get involved with a French protestant church. After several hours of online research Saturday night I ended up attending L'eglise reformee du Marais, because this modern denomination, the Reformed Protestant Church, descended from the Huguenots - it doesn't get more French protestant than this. The service seemed to be a mix of Catholic, liturgical protestant, and evangelical elements - we said the Lord's prayer and some other group liturgical texts (reminded me of Mass), we took Communion all standing around the perimeter of the sanctuary and we were allowed to drink the wine (reminded me of Lutheran church), and we listened to a short teaching by the pastor on the Gospel reading for that day, the baptism of Jesus (reminded me of evangelical-style preaching. The pastor talked about how only a few people knew that Jesus was something special before the moment of his baptism, and how by doing this Jesus began his public ministry by indicating that he was choosing a spiritual rather than a simply biological life. There was a meal after the service, but I felt too nervous to stay, and I am also getting over a mild cold. The plan is to go back next week and stay for the meal, no matter how awkward I feel. If you are interested their website (all in French, I think) is temple.dumarais.fr
A very different kind of spiritual thing that I plan to do is to attend a Sahaja Yoga meditation on Thursday night, held for free by the Sahaja group here in Paris in the 18th district. Some of you know that I have been doing this in Columbus for the past several months. I've let my discipline slide since I came to Europe, but I want to start it again.
At about 1 pm on Sunday I was talking to Nick on Skype when I began to hear an amplified voice speaking from somewhere nearby. This isn't an unusual occurrence here because I live next to Place de la Republique, a common meeting place for protesters. I ran out the door to see what was happening, and it was the start of an anti-abortion protest. I had planned on taking a walk that afternoon because it was 50 degrees and somewhat sunny, and so I decided to make the march into my walk. The press estimates that 20,000-25,000 people were present. Here are some pictures:
We marched from Republique to the Opera, shown in the second picture. This isn't a great picture of the building but I like it because of the guy wearing the sweet robe on the right. I saw a lot of priests and bishops marching, and they all looked awesome. There were a lot of young people - it seemed like the youth groups of a lot of churches from the provinces (France excluding Paris) had come in for the march. There were also delegations from other countries like Poland and Italy. The US was represented by me, although no one else knew this, and a San Fransisco delegation. For all of the kids the event was a time to socialize within their group, but they also seemed quite passionate and would chant when the organizers asked us to. The organizers were on three trucks loaded with speakers, and they would shout out facts and make short speeches to the crowds we passed. They would also play the current pop hits to draw attention to us and to get keep the energy of the marchers up. In between the music selections the organizers would start chants; one of them was a fun song that went like this: "If I were president of the Republique, not a single child would ever meet a tragic end. I would do my best for the smallest of men. Children would be protected if I were president of the Republique." It was all in French and rhymed, and there was even an instrumental part that went with it.
Here is what I learned from my experience:
1) No one goes to protests alone (except for me) - they are very social events
2) The various groups that are in the march move at different speeds, and the outside of the crowd moves faster than the middle, so you have to be careful and keep up the pace or before you know it hundreds of people have passed you and the stroller brigade is ramming your heels (there were a lot of parents who marched with small children in tow)
3) Parisians enjoy their protests. I was a little worried about how onlookers might respond to us, because I have no idea about the abortion debate here. I also thought people might just ignore us because there are protests and demonstrations that leave from Republique at least once a month here. But, pleasantly, a lot of people came out to the streets and watched us, and everyone was respectful. People snapped pictures and gazed at us from their balconies. The only people who were angry with us were those who unfortunately needed to cross the street as we were passing.
So that was my Sunday! No work, no shopping at the crazy sales that are going on in Paris right now. Just good old French protestant church and a pro-life march.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Visit to Chartres
*Jane in Paris*
Nick and I visited the town of Chartres yesterday, which is 1 hour SW of Paris by train. Even though it was supposed to rain and I woke up feeling sick we decided to proceed as planned, because Nick really wanted to see a part of France that wasn't Paris before he leaves on Friday. I had heard that Chartres is cool because it has an old cathedral, and so I thought, "it'll be nice to see an authentic Gothic church." But wow, this place was amazing. We both agree that it is the most amazing church we've ever seen - not necessarily our favorite in every way, but a building that just makes your jaw drop. First the church encloses a huge amount of space and the arched ceiling is so far in the sky that it does seem "heavenly." This would be an impressive architectural feet today, yet it was built 800 years ago and has stood the test of several centuries. I can't really describe any better the profound feeling that being in a big place gave me. Then there are the windows!
There are over 100 stained glass windows in Chartres Cathedral, all of them very large and covered with intricate depictions of Biblical stories, the lives of saints, and even some secular topics like local merchant guilds. We were there on a cloudy day, and even this little bit of light lit up the stained glass brilliantly. We didn't take many pictures of the cathedral because it's really all about the windows, and the effect of light through glass doesn't come across well in a picture. The most famous window is the "Blue Virgin," a 12th-century window depicting Mary in a garment of a striking, rare blue color. 
Unfortunately it was colder in the church than it was outside, I'm guessing due to the height of the ceiling, and so we were unable to devote the several hours necessary to examine all of the windows. The cold weather, however, at least kept all but a few other people out of the church that day. I can't imagine what it's like there in the summer, when tourists and pilgrims from all over the world descend upon it. Gazing at the windows in absolute silence made the experience all the more spiritual. After staying inside the cathedral for as long as we could stand, we went to La Serpente, a restaurant in the vicinity. This was one of the most elegant places I have ever eaten in - you could sense that the owners and workers of the establishment paid attention to every detail. Not only was the food good - delicate onion soup, homemade sorbets and ice cream - but the decor and ambiance made me want to just sit and relax.
We also walked around the town a little and visited the museum at the International Center of Stained Glass. There were several works by Udo Zembock, an artist who layers sheets of colored glass to an ethereal effect.
Nick poses in front of a replica of some of his pieces - most of which are functional pieces that decorate modern buildings.In other news, Nick and I are well into our 4th month of living in Europe. It is odd to feel simultaneously at home and not at home, and to furthermore have grown comfortable with this constant dichotomy. People here ask us all the time where we're from, and at this point in my life I feel so detached/freed from any feeling of "from" that the question doesn't even seem worth answering. I don't mean this in a negative way - it's just that due to moving so many times, a physical location has been obliterated from my sense of identity. This year things have become much more complicated because not only am I living on a different continent, but I split my time pretty much evenly between two different countries. I've met a lot of other dissociated people in Paris and Vienna (from a certain place and has since lived in multiple other countries), especially in church groups, and I've really enjoyed being a part of them. In situations like that people become just people - you have to consider them individually because they cannot be simply categorized.
Friday, January 8, 2010
Some Reflections on the Solitude Thus Far
*Nick in the Vienna Airport
I am heading to see Jane in Paris, and right now I am sitting in the Vienna airport next to a Starbucks (which I hate, mostly for social and economic reasons) that is pimping their “Kaffeegeschmack,” which is a sweet word that I’m pretty sure just means tasty coffee. This seemed like a good time to update some travel stats and reflect on how things are going.
First the reflections: these 9 months in Europe are going by very, very quickly, and I still feel like I haven’t totally dove into my research. This is mostly because we both had grant applications due in November and December which took up most of our time. Overall, though, I rather enjoy living in Europe. I really miss living with Jane, I miss friends, family, and sports in the States, but it seems like European culture sits well with me. I guess it makes sense that I research European history. I’m not sure I would want to live here for an extended period of time, but I could totally see spending a decade or so in Europe, although the likelihood of an employer feeling the same way is very, very small, so there is little reason in worrying about that. Still, the slower pace of live, emphasis on beautiful spaces and art, amazing public transit, and a consumer economy based on small neighborhood stores rather than megastores with mega parking lots is all quite appealing. (Yes, I realize this is subjective and based pretty much solely on Vienna and Paris, likely the two most beautiful cities on the continent). Also, I can take my dog on the subway, and that about seals it up. Even though the likelihood of actually living here is very small, if we stick with our current discipline we will probably be returning to Europe every year or two, so I guess it is nice that we like it.
Well, I’ll stop rambling and give the data as best as I can remember. These are based after we first arrived in Vienna.
Intercity flights:
Jane – 6
Nick – 2 (soon to be 4)
Intercity train rides:
Jane – 5
Nick – 6
Mason – 4 (he’s getting better at them)
Operas and ballets
Jane – 6
Nick – 6 (4 were together)
Mason – 3 (just kidding)
Sausages wrapped in bacon and filled with cheese
Nick – 1
Ben (my brother) – 2, I think, which means he did better in one week in Vienna than I have done in 3 months)
Mason – 0, about which he is visibly upset
I am heading to see Jane in Paris, and right now I am sitting in the Vienna airport next to a Starbucks (which I hate, mostly for social and economic reasons) that is pimping their “Kaffeegeschmack,” which is a sweet word that I’m pretty sure just means tasty coffee. This seemed like a good time to update some travel stats and reflect on how things are going.
First the reflections: these 9 months in Europe are going by very, very quickly, and I still feel like I haven’t totally dove into my research. This is mostly because we both had grant applications due in November and December which took up most of our time. Overall, though, I rather enjoy living in Europe. I really miss living with Jane, I miss friends, family, and sports in the States, but it seems like European culture sits well with me. I guess it makes sense that I research European history. I’m not sure I would want to live here for an extended period of time, but I could totally see spending a decade or so in Europe, although the likelihood of an employer feeling the same way is very, very small, so there is little reason in worrying about that. Still, the slower pace of live, emphasis on beautiful spaces and art, amazing public transit, and a consumer economy based on small neighborhood stores rather than megastores with mega parking lots is all quite appealing. (Yes, I realize this is subjective and based pretty much solely on Vienna and Paris, likely the two most beautiful cities on the continent). Also, I can take my dog on the subway, and that about seals it up. Even though the likelihood of actually living here is very small, if we stick with our current discipline we will probably be returning to Europe every year or two, so I guess it is nice that we like it.
Well, I’ll stop rambling and give the data as best as I can remember. These are based after we first arrived in Vienna.
Intercity flights:
Jane – 6
Nick – 2 (soon to be 4)
Intercity train rides:
Jane – 5
Nick – 6
Mason – 4 (he’s getting better at them)
Operas and ballets
Jane – 6
Nick – 6 (4 were together)
Mason – 3 (just kidding)
Sausages wrapped in bacon and filled with cheese
Nick – 1
Ben (my brother) – 2, I think, which means he did better in one week in Vienna than I have done in 3 months)
Mason – 0, about which he is visibly upset
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