Stift Melk, Stadt Melk

During my family's time in Austria, I decided to take them to the Melk Abbey, one of the most magnificent extant Baroque monasteries in the world, and home to an order of Benedictine monks, as well as a high school. A friend of mine taught there in 2010-2011.

The town of Melk is about 45 km northwest of Amstetten, and (candidly) the nicer of the two cities, though  

Amstetten is the larger city (about 20,000 inhabitants to Melk's roughly 5,000). Melk was also a satellite site of the Mauthausen concentration camp during WWII. Surprisingly, it was spared from destruction during the war; most likely because it does not lie on a direct train line to Vienna, unlike Amstetten (which was destroyed - and why it's uglier).

St. Colomon is a patron saint of the Melk Abbey. His story is quite interesting. A Scottish pilgrim on his way to the Holy Land, Colomon was arrested in Austria, and, knowing no German, had no defense. He was hanged as a spy. According to the Abbey, he is patron to foreigners living or traveling in a strange land, cloven-hoofed animals, and can be invoked for girls of marriageable age looking for a husband, as well as those suffering from gout. St. Colomon is one of those all-purpose saints, it seems - and a cautionary tale as to why travelers should learn the language of their adopted country!

Here are some photos of the abbey and its surrounds: 

built 1718

relics of St. Colomon

model of the monastery

view of the city of Melk

Linzer Weekend

A few weekends ago, I went to Linz for the weekend to catch up with some old friends from Amstetten, and accompany Jake in meeting some of his distant relatives in Bad Ischl. It was an interesting experience.

First, on Friday, I went to a whiskey convention (my first) at the Arcotel convention center with several other teaching assistants in Linz, which, I'll be honest, I didn't really enjoy. I'm definitely more of a wine gal, so the whiskey - even the good stuff - was lost on me. I'd like to try new things, and I did end up enjoying some of the Scotches they had on sample, but I don't know the  first thing about a good whiskey. And, predictably, my taste runs expensive. After an afternoon of sampling, I guess for now I'll stick with wine.

There was also a wine convention (festival?) in Linz at the mall on Saturday. I would have liked to stay and go through the different wines, like we did with the whiskey, but we had to get to Bad Ischl. Seems either the hangovers were too much to plunge in, or I'm the only wino in the bunch. Anyway, I stayed long enough to get a couple of bottles of wine, which will certainly go up on Wine Snobbery on a Budget.

Jen, Jake and I went to a pottery class at the Volkshochschule. That was possibly the most fun of the weekend. I hadn't worked with clay since elementary school, and I had never thrown anything on a wheel before. I tried, but my technique needs lots of improvement. I didn't make anything except blobs that fell apart on the wheel, so I stuck with hand molding, and made this person:

I call it "Napping Nude #1" !

And there were other, finished pieces that had already been fired and glazed. They looked pretty good. A lot of creativity running around Linz! Jen did some great stuff, and this one guy made a fountain.

Saturday saw us taking the train to Bad Ischl to meet Jake's relatives his mother found through genealogical research. I think it's wonderful to have found them, and to share all of this family history, but I couldn't help but feel, though he and Eleonora, the woman we met, share a common ancestor four generations back (her grandfather and his great-grandfather were brothers), having coffee with them, family tree spread across the small round marble cafe table, reinforced the fact that they were still strangers despite this connection.

To be honest, I've never really cared much for genealogy, though it is amazing the facts you can dig up by following someone's family line. I guess to me the interesting part would be not who is related to whom, but more the stories you could find from learning about people in the past - your past. Or your present. I doubt I will ever meet Eleonora again, but it was curious to see how a life can be altered by one person moving to a new country. It makes me wonder how globalization will change immigration.

 Here are photos of Bad Ischl:

view from the train

Bad Ischl is famous for being a spa/resort town, the one in fact where the empress Sophie (mother of Franz Joseph I) came to get infertility treatments...they must have worked, since she conceived Franz Joseph. It was also a favorite of Franz Joseph's wife, Sisi. Though, she did take any excuse for a vacation. The Kursalons (spa centers) are still being run and going strong, though they're quite pricey for being given in such a famous place.

downtown

very famous "Trinkhaus"

I will curb my ranting for some beautiful scenery, namely the river Ischl:

And back to Linz: this is the house Johannes Kelper (the father of modern astronomy) lived in:

And the Marienkirche (practically every town in Austria has one):

And a beautifully blossoming tree in the courtyard of the Standesamt:

Wild Poppies, or: Recollection

poppies in a field in Amstetten

I know that I will have many memories of my time in Austria. One of the fondest, and yet more mundane, will be of my daily walk/run along the Ybbs. I have finally brought a camera along and will share with you some of what I see every day:

Doubtless, these photos (and, by extension, this blog) will help me remember much of what has happened this year. It's a curious thing, memory. There have been countless studies done on how people retain memories, a very recent one picked up as a topic on NPR's Talk of the Nation about our earliest memories: why do young children remember things from very early in life, yet as we age, we forget most of what happened to us before the age of four? Here is the article that accompanied the program on NPR's website.

Since I can get streaming radio on my computer, some of the copious free time I've recently been blessed to have (seeing as it is now summer vacation for me) has been eaten up by my "catching up" on certain things I miss from America. Including, yes, NPR programming. 

The show (as well as the transcript) was quite interesting. The expert brought in said that several memories of early life are attached to emotions. If a person experiences a strong emotion during an event, he or she is more likely to remember not only the event, but more details of the event as well. The most powerful emotions are often fear or anger (dangerous situations and arguments are easier to remember than calm or happy situations) as are shocking or new situations. This made me think about my own earliest memories, one that involves the German language, actually. 

I remember as a very young child watching news footage of the Berlin Wall being torn down. I was two, almost three, most likely watching the evening news with my parents. I remember the television we had at the time, an old analog dial set that fit snugly within the shelves of our entertainment system, next to my dad's record player and enormous white speakers. It's been a tradition in my family ever since I can remember to watch the news together at 6pm, huddled around the TV in the living room. And before the advent of cable, this was even easier - fewer channels, and less crap to watch. We did eventually get cable, but that was long after I had started elementary school.  

calf put out to pasture

I remember images bursting onto the screen, the ones that have become stock footage now - people in the dark mounting the wall, taking sledge hammers to the side, East Germans walking triumphantly past guards, waving at the cameras. My parents sat in shock, probably in disbelief. Watching these images, they knew that the Cold War - and ideological terror of the "other" that had existed since before they we both born, mounted in bomb scares, fears of traveling abroad, the destruction of "the American way of life," that had urged hate and conspiracy and espionage - would soon be over. 

And it happened overnight, quickly and without warning. That is why my parents sat shocked. I'm sure they discussed it afterward. This would change the way they viewed the world. the way millions of people viewed the world. And this was the era before the 24-hour news network, before streaming video and internet and chat rooms and information all the time, anywhere and everywhere at the click of a mouse. They could read more in the papers the next morning, watch the news again the next evening, when the reporters had submitted new information. They had to wait - they may have waited on tenterhooks. 

cow (mommy)

Although I, a child, could not contribute meaningfully to a conversation about international affairs, the collective breath of the world expelling what it had been holding back for over 40 years, I understood that something important had happened. Berlin. I remembered the name. It held weight for me. When I was older, old enough to look up things in an encyclopedia (we had a set in the house, circa 1992) I discovered many things (now all outdated) about Berlin: it was a city, divided, the new capital of a reunited Germany.

I feel that this experience grounded my interest in the German language, in Germany, in Berlin.  I wanted to see for myself what sort of a city this was, what happened there, how people lived. It seemed like a city with a fantastic history, a place making history, alive, being shaped, becoming renewed. As a teenager, exposure to the stories of Christopher Isherwood and Cabaret and pop culture like Nena, propelled my interest in learning German. Of course, these were not my only reasons, but more to add to my list. I had already taken French, and wished to continue. To pick up a second foreign language, I had the choice between German or Spanish, and (as I've heard from many other students of German) the odds were against Spanish, mainly because it was seen as the lesser of all the offered foreign languages (all the dumb kids took it). This is, of course, unfair to the Spanish language, beautiful in its own way; I have grown fond of Spanish after having learned it - given it a chance.

preparations for Sonnenwende (Midsummer's Night)

German, anyway, and French, were my chosen university majors. These choices allowed me to study abroad. And where did I choose? Berlin, of course. I was not disappointed. I fell in love with the city a bit, I think. I still have fond memories of my time there. The city was alive, changing, making history. Vibrant. Charming. Magnificent. A big city, but not too big, like London, or too seedy, like L.A. Plenty of history, but still plenty of future, too. 

I point to this earliest of memories, watching the news with my parents as a toddler, to be part of the reason I am here now, in Austria, continuing to learn German. Continuing to be fascinated by the German language, by the history and culture of Central Europe. There are so many things that could be said about how destinies are shaped. Some say it is purely the past which determines the future. Others say the past is only and example to be learned from. I would argue that memories, being an exquisite form, a representation of the past controlled and controllable by the possessor of said memory, are the greatest tool in shaping one's destiny, if past and future being in equal parts relevant help us determine who we are. Or who we shall become.

train tracks