Museums and Perspectives

Yesterday I had quite a museum day. At long last, I visited Schloss Eggenberg, our local palace and museum of Medieval and Renaissance art and old coins. It was very impressive, even though it wasn't the best time of year for it. I'll try to post some photos later.

Because I had bought a ticket for the castle museum, I could also go to other museum with the same ticket. And that's how, after much anticipation, I ended up at the Kunsthaus. Modern art is very hit or miss for me. I tend to like about 1% of it, so a collection needs to be pretty large before I'll like many of its pieces! The collection in the Kunsthaus is very small. However, two works of art really stood out for me. One was a collection of mechanical spiders that apparently go for a walk every day at 3 o'clock. (Sadly, I missed this.) The other was very simple and very witty. The artist had a shipping box on the floor, with a highly pretentious title and a note that due to unpacking issues, it could not be removed, and the artist requested it be presented in the box. I like modern art with a sense of humor as well as a message.

As far as perspectives go, being here has really made me realize something about my family. We are close, and enjoy each other's company a lot. However, 'out of sight, out of mind' is very, very true for us. I've talked to my family (specifically my mother) once in the 75 days I've been here. I called her. Similarly, no one has Skype set up, despite having know that I would do this for months. In comparison, Geoff had Skype within a couple of days of me being here, long before I even had internet to Skype with.

It's not a case of my family not loving me or caring about me. My mom has done many, many things for me since I've been here, from loaning me money and helping me get it transfered, to sending me a care package at Halloween. The thing is, it's generally things I ask for. And when I don't start communication, it doesn't seem to happen at all.

This also isn't just about me. The same thing happened when my brother moved to New York. Clearly, no matter how much we love each other, we love each other loosely. When someone is out of reach, we seem to just get on with our lives. It's interesting for me to realize this, because it's absolutely a habit I have as well, and I want to change that.

Graffiti in Graz

Happy Halloween! Since Halloween is about transformation, if just for one night, I thought it would be a good time to post some of the transformative graffiti I've photographed in Graz. One of my classes here is on art in public spaces. In my opinion, several of these pieces qualify.

There are some amazing artists in the world of Graz graffiti. I like the Banksy style designs in particular. Here are a few of my favorites.

An Ode to the Older Ladies of Graz

They have ovaries of steel. To wit: today, I saw a lady who looked about 70 jaywalking across a busy street very, very slowly. A) jaywalking is a big no here and b) she absolutely had to walk past a crosswalk in order to get there. But that isn't the best example I've seen. It just reminded me of something that happened a couple of weeks ago.

I was walking home, and had to cross another very busy street. (This one, there's no way you could jaywalk it.) There was a woman, about 60 years old, standing next to the button you press for the walk sign. She was close enough that I would have had to get creepily close to press it, so I just stood next to her. Finally the light changed, and the street was clear...but the walk sign didn't come on. We stood there and waited. Finally, I asked her very politely, "Haben Sie es gedruckt?" (Did you press the button? in German).

She said, very indignantly, "Doch ich habe es gedruckt!" (Of course I pressed it!) Then she pressed it anyway, and the cross sign instantly came on. It is at this point she gained my eternal admiration, at much the same level and for the same reasons as Miss Piggy.

Without the slightest irony or self consciousness, she demanded, "Warum hast du nicht frueher gefragt!!" (Why didn't you ask me earlier!!)

Wow, lady. Just wow.

This. Is. ZUPPA!

Actually, while this is a post about soup, it is not Italian soup. It's just soup that is dramatic enough to justify Sparta puns. I have a mild cold, and that always makes me want soup. I was thinking about it anyway, but when Geoff said that if he was here, he would make soup for me (I hadn't even told him yet that I wanted some!), I knew I had to make some.

For getting over a cold, I like a nice, traditional chicken and vegetables soup. I already had potatoes that needed to be used, so that would be my grain. I bought carrots at the local farmer's market (also a beautiful rose), and then went to the Spar. I bought chicken stock cubes, since I've been looking for weeks without seeing any boxed or canned chicken broth. Then I decided to take the plunge and buy chicken breasts. I haven't bought any raw meat in the time I've been here, partially because I had trouble finding chicken breasts, my favorite, and partially because I was worried about using it all while it was still fresh. But today I found a pack of three fresh chicken breasts, and I just went for it. I thought that I would use part of them in the soup, which I was making several servings of, and part on a pizza. I love chicken on a pesto sauce pizza.

Once I got home and did some dishes, I opened the chicken so I could saute it before putting it in the soup. And boy, did I get a surprise: these were not sanitized American chicken breasts, precleaned until only the meat is left. No, they were full blooded Austrian chicken breasts, still on the bone and with skin on one side.

A note for those who haven't lived/cooked with me extensively: I have a weak stomach around meat. The smell of bacon cooking literally makes me nauseous. (I love cooked bacon, but never make it for myself because of this.) Nice restaurant food sometimes makes me gag, just because something about it arbitrarily feels wrong to me. And as far a preparing food goes-well, let's just say that Geoff and I made a chicken-and-pesto pizza a little before I left, with American style chicken breasts, and I asked him to cut up the meat, because it grossed me out.

So you can probably imagine how I felt about the chicken that now lay before me. But really, I didn't have much of a choice. And while I may not be good at handling raw meat, I am good at handling unpleasant situations.

I prepared the chicken. I tore off the skin with my bare hands. I first tried cutting it off the bone, then gave in and tore it off, again with my bare hands. I dry heaved many, many times. Then I cut the meat in soup/pizza sized pieces and sauteed it in olive oil, with garlic, pepper, and rosemary seasoning. I had a little for lunch, on toasted olive bread with pesto spread on it. It was delicious.

The whole experience was definitely not enjoyable, and I plan on avoiding having to prepare my chicken like that as much as possible, but at the same time I feel good about it. I can now say that despite my issues with meat, I eat it in full acknowledgment that it was once a chicken that died for me. I think that's a good thing to remember, even though it doesn't make me want to be a vegetarian.

After my chicken saga, I put water on to boil, adding the dripping from cooking the chicken. Once it was boiling, I added the boullion cube, then chopped potatoes once it had dissolved. I chopped carrots to be added next. And then...I realized I had forgotten onions and celery, and my soup just wouldn't be the same. I turned off the stove, left my housemates a quick note so they would know my stuff wasn't abandoned, and ran to the store.

But my epic soup adventure wasn't over yet. I found onions right away, but couldn't see celery anywhere. I made a couple loops of the vegetable section. Then I looked down at a low shelve near the floor, and I saw: the only bunch of celery in the entire Spar. I swooped it up, made it back home, and finished up my soup. I made enough for three bowls-one for now and two for later. It was the most effort I've ever put into a simple soup.

And that, I bet, is more than you thought you would ever read about a simple soup.

Ich habe dich lieb, Lendplatzmarkt. (I love you, Lendplatz Farmer's Market.)

Sorry this is sideways. I have a limited amount I can upload, so I don't want to redo it. The flowers were 30 cents a stem; the bottle was delicious pear juice.

Detail of the alter at a little church by the university. It dates back to the 16th century!

This is what I bought at the farmer's market. The green pepper was a gift! Such a nice lady. That's actually the second time I've been given free fruits and vegetables there. This is basically the choice: lower quality and more expensive at Spar/Billa/Hofer, or very inexpensive and farm fresh from incredibly nice people. Mmmm, so tasty.

I love stained glass.

I don't have any pictures of it, but last night was my first time in my trampoline jumping class! It is everything I wanted it to be. There was direction-we were learning things, not just happily bouncing away-and we also got to see the advanced class. They were doing things like almost touching the ceiling (in a high, high gym), doing perfect flips...it was both impressive and intimidating. It was also great exercise. My upper thighs and calves are sore today. And I also think it'll be great practice for Aikido: all of the advanced students had very healthy, aligned form with great extension.

More Steppenwolf, Intensive German

I translated this a few weeks ago. I was pretty bored before my German intensive class started.

Each led the other to suffering, and when two in one blood and one soul are deadly enemies, life is a constant struggle. However, each has his fate, and none are easy.

For our wolf of the steppes, though he sometimes lived as a wolf and sometimes as a man, it was the case (as it is for all such mixed creatures) that whenever he was a wolf, the human in him looked on in judgement and derision-and in times, when he was a human, the wolf did the same. For example, when Harry was a person and had beautiful thoughts, felt a fine, noble sympathy or undertook a good deed, the wolf bared its teeth to laugh and showed him with bloody scorn how laughable the entire show was to an animal of the steppes, a wolf, that in his heart knew exactly what he should do: bound through the steppes, taste blood or chase a wolf in heat. For a wolf, human behavior looked comical, foolish, idle. And yet whenever Harry felt and acted as a wolf, when he bared his teeth, when he felt felt hate and deadly antipathy against all humanity, the human part of him rebelled, observed the wolf, called him beast and denied him all joy in the simple, healthy, and wild behavior of the wolf.

So, speaking of the German class, it went really well, and involved several surprises. I was originally placed in B2. The classes were divided into A1, A2, B1, B2, and C1, with C1 being the highest. This is the European system for foreign language competence, where C2 is near native fluency. So I was happy with being in B2-that's the highest anyone who hasn't lived in the country would expect. As it turned out, that was a major reason I was placed in B2-I haven't lived in the country before. Once I was in the class, it became obvious it was the wrong level for me. We were just doing things I had learned before, we were doing things I had done three or four times before. I was divided though, because I thought C1 might be too difficult for me, and I didn't want to leave the friends I'd met in B2. Finally, I asked my professor what he would recommend, and he told me to go to C1. So, a week into a three week class, I did.

I joined the class on a Monday, and the next Wednesday was our midterm. I really stressed out over it (let's just say Geoff mayhave gotten a semi-hysterical phone call over it) but I also studied my ass off. When the test came, it wasn't as hard as I feared, and when we got the results back, I got the second highest score in the class! I couldn't believe it. So C1 went really well for me, I learned a lot, and the people were just as nice as in B2.

I also bought these dictionaries:

The little one is Collins, because he is small and sometimes irritating, and also because he's a Collins dictionary. The big one is Darcy, because he's hard to handle but gives good results (he's entirely in German, and fairly comprehensive), and also of course to go with Collins.

Internet!!!!!!!

So, I'm sure everyone reading this blog has already heard that I haven't had internet in my dorm...until today! I really can't overstress how hard this has been but:

*I haven't talked with my family for almost a month

*To check email, I had to go into/stand outside of cafes that had it...kind of a sketchy thing to do at night

*Like at most colleges, registration and communication here is through Internet and email

*Graz closes down in the evening and on Sundays, so whenever I didn't have plans with friends here or work to do, I was really bored.

But anyway, now I have it! I have a lot to talk about, and I prewrote some posts, so there'll be a lot in the next few days.