An Open Letter to the Austrian Holiday Gods

Dear People Who Set Holidays (and let's be honest, there's probably a Magistratische Abteilung somewhere responsible for this),

There are many people who are much more qualified than me to speak on the matter of Ausländerfeindlichkeit. I'm neither an Austrian nor an immigrant - just one of the "good" Ausländer who happens to be living here for awhile. And although I know and love many aspects of this country, I don't feel like it's my place to enter into its larger societal debates -- that's something y'all need to figure out for yourselves.

I have only one small point to make. Eid-al-Adha should be a national holiday.

Learning German: der Ampelmann

Picture this: You've just been dropped onto a street corner in the middle of some world-class city at three in the morning. You're standing outside some trendy club, and various artsy / "anti-establishment" people are milling around, speaking various languages with various accents. Other than that, the city is quiet -- no cars are to be seen or heard. You could be anywhere. But you will know within 60 seconds whether or not you're in a German-speaking country. Just wait and see whether anyone crosses the street.

Bäck tsu School

"WIR WOLLEN KEINE WANDERKLASSE" screams the sign in large letters, surrounded by more personal messages from individual students. It's a protest against the decision of the school where I'm teaching to force one group of seniors to move classes each period, rather than giving them a room of their own, which is normal. To my students, it's a constant source of irritation, a reminder that they attend a "ghetto school," as several of them have complained to me. (I can't really comment, as I've only ever been to one Austrian school, but my students are really engaged and the building is not lacking in facilities in the least.) To me, however, it's a daily reminder of the ways that Austrian schools differ from the ones I attended in the United States.

The Past is Never Dead

Last night was Lange Nacht der Museen, when all of the museums in Austria stay open until 1am and are free to enter with the purchase of a 13-Euro ticket (11-Euro if you're a student like me). It's a Pflichttermin, as the Austrians say, an event you absolutely must attend. Even if, like the friends I went with, you're not really a Museumsmensch and this is your one Kulturabend of the year.

My favorite collection was at Oberes Belvedere. There was quite a bit of Austrian art from the turn of the twentieth century (including many works by Gustav Klimt, pretty much the only Austrian artist of wide international acclaim, and also the favorite artist of my friend Tatenda from last summer, who invited me to accompany her and some friends on their Lange Nacht adventure.)

Der Stephansdom

Oktoberfest: The German Version

There are certain words that come to mind when you think of Oktoberfest: Gemütlich. Feuchtfröhlich. Prost. There are other words, though, equally German, that you do not think of when you think of Oktoberfest: Effizient. Durchgeplant. Anstrengend.

Somehow, even though everyone knows that Germans love to sing cheesy yet awesome Schlager songs (click the links!) and drink beer for hours on end, and everyone knows that Germans are rigid, efficient beings who lead a society best described as "well-managed," I had never really thought about how those stereotypes conflict.

Or rather, how they mix with one another. Because while Oktoberfest might indeed be a sloppy, happy mess of singing, beer drinking, and Dirndl wearing, it is also an exercise in regulated consumption, of finding the perfect balance of Hendl, Brezn, and Wurst that will allow you to keep drinking for an entire day. It is Germany, in both the ways I expected and the ways that surprised me.