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The Not-so-Quiet American

Be vewy vewy quiet, I’m hunting wabbits…
– Elmer Fudd

Speak softly and carry a great guide.
– KC Blau

My first residence in Vienna, not including my dorm room in the 3rd district, was a small apartment on the first floor of a four-story building in the second district. The apartment boasted high ceilings, a shower in the kitchen, and a shared toilet in the hallway (shared with the next door neighbor who liked to chain smoke while using it). I am not sure whether Remaxx would have listed the place as a 2 or 3-room apartment since the kitchen was nothing more than a galley connecting the bedroom and the living room. The apartment had no central heating – just two wood and coal burning stoves that forced me to lug more coal bricks and scrub more soot off of more tall double windows than I care to recall. The bedroom was long and narrow and the best thing about it was the towering oak tree outside the double window.

The tree was multi-functional. First, it served as a home for a woodpecker that liked to peck peck peck at ungodly hours of the morning. Second, and more importantly (in my humble opinion, not Woody’s), its blanketing green leaves served as a screen to the neighbors across the courtyard who liked to hang out on their little balcony in their off-white granny pants while huffing and puffing on their cigarettes. (Austria had a lot of smokers back then). Third, the tree provided shade and kept the bedroom cool all summer. But best of all, the tree absorbed most of the noise that ricocheted throughout the courtyard during the summer months when everyone had their windows open and children liked to play.

But just one floor up lived a Chinese couple who were dear friends and neighbors and Wei did not agree that the tree provided ample sound-buffering. He dreaded the noise from the sandbox play, soccer ball bounces and name calling in not-so-indoor voices. He was a student at the University of Vienna who greatly valued his afternoon naps. Sometimes when very annoyed, he would open his window and yell down and tell them to stop being so loud.

But otherwise, I have to say that Viennese kids, and Europeans tend to speak softly.

And we Americans? It’s not like we’ve never been taught the virtues of being quiet.

You remember, don’t you? The bell rang and the teachers stood holding the doors, ushering the students in from recess or break. Never failed. Amongst the centennials, there was always that one teacher who thought it her God-given duty to lean into the passing students and remind each and everyone of them that it was “Time to use your indoor voices.” How syrupy over-cheerful and very annoying her own sing-song voice chimed out those reminders. And yes, it was always a female teacher doing the dirty work, never the guys.

The Indoor Voice. We all learned about the indoor voice but then– Maybe we were too busy using our outdoor voices to hear the teacher demanding the indoor voices?

"The Quiet American" book jacket

British writer, Graham Greene, wrote a book entitled “The Quiet American.” The American abroad was quiet, and therefore rather suspicious.

Unfortunately, I must concede with the Europeans, we Americans do tend to rarely use our indoor voices –regardless if we are in- or outdoors. And invariably, when I am on the subway and a group of people are being rather loud, the group is almost always a bunch of my fellow countrymen – students or tourists. Or maybe a bunch of Canadians well disguised. The others – like Swedes when they are drunk and visiting Vienna for a soccer match or Russians when they are just drunk, can also be loud but we Americans beat all other nations hands down with our ability to ignore the general tone level of our environment. Even when my fellow Americans are sitting across from one another having a “normal conversation,” unter sich they tend to be loud enough for the rest of the subway car to listen in. Why can’t we just tone it down a bit?

I once spent a whole train ride from Wien Mitte to the airport (about 30 minutes) listening to an American woman and man discuss why a person in their department had to be fired. If you are interested in knowing too, drop me a line, I know every gory detail.

I didn’t write the, “World Citizens Guide, Practical Advice for Americans traveling abroad” but I wish I had. I have kept a copy of it for years because whoever made it was 110% on the money. See the last passage, page three, with the words Be quiet in bold green font. It states, “Less is more. In conversation match your voice level to the environment and other speakers. A loud voice is often perceived as a bragging voice.”

The next edition should be less syrupy overly cheerful and sing-song and simply tell it like it is — that a loud voice is always perceived as an obnoxious voice so keep it down. No innocent bystanders are interested in the turbulance of your plane ride or your encounters with the locals who have the audacity not to speak proper English. Please do me, yourself, your fellow Americans and your host country a great big juicy favor –when traveling abroad, do as the natives do and speak softly, tread gently, and carry a good guide (like my website on your iPad).

Thank you!

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Some must-read literature:

 World Citizens Guide: Some Practical Advice for Americans Traveling Abroad

World Citizens Website with a wealth of valuable information for world travelers

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Vienna Neighborhoods – the Karmeliter Quarter of BoBos

I have always wanted to have a neighbor just like you, I’ve always wanted to live in a neighborhood with you….”
– Mister Rogers, Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood

I grew up in a small town. Our neighborhood was bordered on one end by route 130 and the other by a steep road leading into the “Shades of Death.” In summer we walked along route 130 to fetch banana popsicles from the Quick Pic and in winter sled rode down the Shades of Death with Tippy, the three-legged collie, towing our gear back up the hill. The narrow stretch of grass behind the firehall served as our football field and white squares spray-painted on the road as our kickball bases. No pine tree was left unclimbed and every kid came out to play.

Second District Post Office in Better Days, before it closed

Second District Große Schiffgasse Post Office in better days, before it closed

When I moved to Vienna, I thought my neighborhood days were behind me. But I was wrong.

Vienna is divided into 23 districts arranged in circular formation around the first as the eye of the circle. The further you venture from the center, the higher the district numbers. The district is reflected in a location’s address via the middle two numbers of the 4 digit zip code. Therefore, if you are in 1020 Vienna, you are in the second district a hop and skip away from the center of town but if you’re in 1220 Vienna, you’re quite a bit outside the city. You can identify the district you are in by looking at the street signs. Click on my post office photo above and you will see a blue sign that reads: 2., Große Schiffgasse. This means that you are in the second district on Große Schiff Lane.

Schöne Perle Restaurant, 2nd District, Viennese Cuisine, 1020 Wien

Schöne Perle Restaurant, 2nd District, Viennese Cuisine, 1020 Wien

Officially the second is the “Leopoldstadt.” Unofficially, it is the Mazza Insel due to relatively large amount of Jewish residents. My neighborhood, however, has two more names – “Karmeliter Quarter” referring to the square home to the local farmer’s market on Saturdays and “BoBoville” referring to the so-called “Bohemian Bourgeoisie” who call the area home. What are Bohemiam Bourgeoisie? In the US, I guess they’d be the folks driving Priuses. Bobos tend to be liberally-minded academics who once thought of themselves as hippies but now have jobs that can help them afford to buy everything organic, environmentally sound and ungodly expensive. (Who knew social consciousness was so pricey?)

Pizza Mari, 2nd District, Vienna, 1020 Wien

Pizza Mari, 2nd District, Vienna, 1020 Wien

Now, in all fairness, I started living in Boboland before all the other hipsters and before the birth of Boboland. I lived in this part of the second district pre-BB. BEFORE the outdoor cafes, trendy beach bars and posh restaurants started sprouting out of the ground like mushrooms after a rain and the Hop On, Hop Off buses added our neighborhood to their sites-to-see list. When I moved into my first apartment here, I was lugging coal to heat it from the place that is now an art atelier, buying milk at the Tante Emma now a Crossfit gym and treating myself every now and then to egg rolls from the all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet that now houses my extremely beloved highly recommended local restaurant, “Schöne Perle.”

Graffiti Artist Studio, 2nd District, Vienna

Graffiti Artist Studio, 2nd District, Vienna

I lived in the second for years, moved back to the States and when I returned to the city, was fortunate to find an apartment just two streets away from my first. The second was a well-kept secret and I definitely wanted back.

But now the secret’s out. Karmelier Quarter is hip. Like a true Viennese I couldn’t imagine life in any other district because I obviously live in the best (all Viennese are convinced their district is the best). Unlike the Viennese, I can embrace our district’s changes with optimism.

The second has always offered great places to run – Augarten Park and along the Danube Canal into green Prater – that hasn’t changed. Sure, I regret that our post office has closed but I can look across the street at the graffiti’s artist new studio and be pleased. The old Chinese Schöne Perle couldn’t hold a candle to the new Schöne Perle with its Viennese cuisine, thirst quenching beer and to-die-for chocolate Susi Torte. And don’t even think you know what good pizza is until you try a wood oven baked one at Pizza Mari. You will also be hard-pressed to find more attentive personnel than the white-jacketed waiters at Skopik & Lohn, just a couple doors further down.

Augarten, 2nd District, Vienna Boys Choir, Porcelain Factory, Park

Augarten, 2nd District, Vienna Boys Choir, Porcelain Factory, Park

And honestly, I don’t miss the Tante Emma/Billa store now home to crazy people lifting thousands of kilos of weights while suspended from their toes just for fun. Two bigger and better grocery stores have opened their doors and they boast aisles wide enough to accommodate two grocery carts cruising in opposite directions. I call that progress.

Augarten Eingang

Augarten Eingang

But thankfully some things don’t change. True, the farmer’s market on Saturdays now sells organic cheese, farm-raised trout and special sausages, but Herr Treippl is still there like he’s been the past 20 years, with his box full of onions, his box full of potatoes and his bundles of parsley. And the young farmer on the corner who always has a smile might now have more wine bottles on his table, but they stand beside the pears, plums and apples that he’s always sold. The post office might be gone but Herr Briefträger is as busy as ever and still greets me every morning I pass him as I walk to work. The Anker bakery is still where it’s always been but is now open Sunday mornings (7am – noon) to sell fresh rolls on a day where everything else in the city is closed. The seamstress is renovating her shop but still shakes her head when I try to pay her for a minor repair job. Instead she directs me to drop some spare change into her change box with a knowing smile because she’ll need only a minute to fix the tear that would cost me an entire afternoon of frustration and needle pricked fingers. Mr. Yildiz, the shoemaker, still inquires about my last vacation and the pale plum-haired lady who holds sentry over the road still hasn’t budged from her window.

Seamstress, 2nd District, 1020 Vienna

Seamstress, 2nd District, 1020 Vienna

You think you live in a city, but really, in Vienna, it’s a neighborhood. And maybe not “everyone knows your name” but it feels like they might as well.

Tel Aviv Beach, Donaukanal, 2nd District, Beach Bar, Vienna

Tel Aviv Beach, Donaukanal, 2nd District, Beach Bar, Vienna

***

Lonely Planet Vienna’s description of Leopoldstadt: “worth more than a cursory glaince, with boutiques, delis and cafes continuing to pop up on and around Karmelitermarkt, bringing a dash of gratification to a once decidedly working class area. The market at its vibrant best on Saturday morning.”

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Gown fitting at seamstress in 2nd district

Gown fitting at seamstress in 2nd district

billa

Billa

Schöne Perle, Local Restaurant, 2nd District, Vienna, 1020 Wien

Schöne Perle, Local Restaurant, 2nd District, Vienna, 1020 Wien

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Soccer Bashing: Ann Coulter and our Nation’s Moral Decay

Following is my 942-word response to Ann Coulter’s 943-word nonsense

Dear Ms. Coulter,

As a US citizen living abroad, I have been spared your opinion pieces. However, this changed recently when a friend, no doubt upset by his inability to attend the public viewing of the US-Germany game at a Vienna beach bar, forwarded your piece entitled, “America’s Favorite National Pastime: Hating Soccer.”

He was surprised (and maybe concerned) when it failed to provoke the highly anticipated “pithy” response. Until now.

Forgive the delay but on the evening of June 26, I was too busy to read your article. The beach bar showing the game was so full that we had to go to the next. And then the next. And the next. All the bars Thursday night, the entire length of the Danube canal, were overflowing with Americans caped in Stars and Stripes and Germans decked out in everything German. All in a country that didn’t even make it to the World Cup.

Spring 2014 - all of Panama City stops to watch the Real Madrid - Barcelona soccer game

Spring 2014 – all of Panama City stops to watch the Real Madrid – Barcelona soccer game

Today, together with a room full of people from three continents and four nations, I anxiously held my breath as five individual players from Brazil and Chile each faced off the other team’s goalie in a penalty shootout that would determine who would move into the quarter finals.

Never seen a penalty shootout, Ms. Coulter? Imagine if not just New York City, or New York State, but the entire United States of America sat in anticipation as you alone tried to angle a ball just right so that it would soar 11 meters past a goalie and into a net as hundreds of millions (maybe even billions?) around the world looked on. (FYI: eleven meters is about eleven times the distance from the floor to a doorknob). Your ear drums vibrate to the beat of “USA! USA!”

No individual achievement? But what if you don’t? What if you miss? You’re not just playing for New York, you’re playing for the entire country.

That’s exactly what happened to Gonzalo Jara today. The entire hopes of Chile rested on his shoulders as he swung his leg and kicked the ball. And what happened? It bounced against the right post and flew back across the goal, missing the net. His teammates collapsed and Mineirão Stadium — all of Brazil — exploded in a blaze of yellow and blue. “BRAZIL WINS!!!!!”

Don’t think Jara left the field with a ribbon and a juice box.

And soccer’s heroes? Pelé, Messi, Ronaldo. Ever heard of them? Well, I’d venture they’ve never heard of Coulter either. But soccer’s most legendary kickers are recognized the world over. Soccer unites. The world knows it but we Americans are unfortunately slow in “getting it.”

You seriously believe that the increasing popularity of a universally beloved sport is evidence of our nation’s “moral decay”? Well if that’s the case, can you clarify some points for me since I read and re-read your article and still don’t quite get how soccer = moral decay. I’ve noted your concerns and posed some comments/questions

(1)    team spirit = moral decay? The US Constitution also seems rather group-oriented though, don’t you think? “We the People….. more perfect Union, … common defence, … general Welfare”

(2)    gender equality = moral decay? Let’s skip this since I read somewhere that your relationship “with the feminine is complicated”

(3)    soccer has scoreless ties (sometimes but not always — the knock out portion of the World Cup allows no ties – see penalty shootout above)

(4)    lack of humiliation / “warfare”: Because humiliation and warfare are always moral – is that your point?

(5)    lack of hands: Hand activities are moral activities? And the goalie? And hockey?

(6)    popularity amongst a US minority: Because majority rules and minority should be squashed?

(7)    it’s “foreign”: so are Irish last names

(8)  it uses the metric system: like NASA. BTW, the CDC (http://www.cdc.gov/nchs/fastats/body-measurements.htm), shows the average waist circumference for a man in the last 20 years is 39.7 inches, not 32 (meaning your recommended yard “guesstimates” are nearly 20% off). And this leads me back to your fifth point: if you desperately want to distinguish yourself from lesser beasts by using your hands, why don’t you just give a thumbs-up to a sport that can combat larger waists by offering yet another physical alternative to the wildly popular one involving couch-fridge-couch laps.

(9)    that it might be “catching on” in the US

I grew up in a small town outside of Pittsburgh, PA that lived for sports. When the family dog had puppies, we named them Franco Harris, Rocky Bleier, Lynn Swan and Mean Joe Greene. I cheered one for the thumb in 81 and learned the Pittsburgh Steelers Polka at school. I love “American” football.

My passion for the game has remained undeterred by the less enlightened I’ve encountered over the years who criticize the slowness of a game that includes a mini Kaffeeklatsch after every down. When the Steelers made it to Super XLV in 2011, I secured tickets to the Vienna Marriot Super Bowl party where I madly waved my Terrible Towel above a sea of Green Bay Packer Cheeseheads. The Steelers may have lost but I went home in the wee hours of the morning a happy camper. American football was “finally catching on” abroad.

I promise you, Ms. Coulter, that my great-grandfather’s great-grandfather was born in the US and I love soccer AND football. One can only hope that, in addition to some genuine interest in the real threats to our “nation’s moral decay,” the less enlightened of my fellow countrymen (and women) will stop spreading their closed-minded nonsense and embrace our role on the world’s athletic stage.

And the next time the urge strikes you to write about soccer? Please don’t.

Warm regards from beautiful Vienna,

KC

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For readers fortunate enough to have missed it — Ann Coulter’s article about soccer: http://www.anncoulter.com/columns/2014-06-25.html

Forbe magazine’s Maury Brown gives an admirable response to Ms. Coulter entitled, “How Miss Coulter Lost Her Mind Over World Cup Soccer”: http://www.forbes.com/sites/maurybrown/2014/06/26/how-ann-coulter-lost-her-mind-over-world-cup-soccer/

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Escaping the Heat by Indulging in some “Summer Freshness”

“I am longing to get out, like never before.”
(Ich sehne mich hinaus wie noch nie.)
– Austrian Painted Gustav Klimt, August 1, 1901 in a postcard from Vienna sent to his lady, Emilie Floge at Attersee (the lake in the countryside)


Austrian writers and artists have a long tradition of escaping the oppressive summer heat of Vienna (or maybe they are slipping away from the tourists?)  to spend some cool and artistically productive weeks in the Austrian countryside and the Alps.  They even had a special word for this – not vacation, not holidays, but rather “Sommerfrische” – Summer Freshness.

Sommerfrische referred not only to annual retreat time but also to the destination. When noticing the absence of their beloved coffeehouse poet, patrons of Cafe Central may have asked, “Where praytell is Peter Altenberg these days?” Whereupon the Oberkellner Franz would have no doubt responded, “My madam, Herr Altenberg is currently on Sommerfrische until the end of August.”

The idea of retreating to the countryside during the summer probably dates back to the time of the aristocrats (evidenced in the stories of Jane Austen or Dostoyevsky) in which the landowners had to tend to their fields in summer and returned to the cities for their dose of society and culture in the winter months (where also, no doubt, heating a city flat was much more manageable than maintaining a whole countryside villa or palace throughout the winter). This is why you will still find summer palaces (Schönbrunn which was at one time quite a bit of travel per horse and carriage from the city) as counterparts to the winter palaces (Hofburg).

Countryside around Weyer, Upper Austria

Countryside around Weyer, Upper Austria

As transportation improved, and with the advent of train travel, a greater part of society began taking off for Sommerfrische revitalization. Evidence of some of the most popular destinations remains today in the form of opulent Jugendstil train stations more befitting royalty than the local countryside folk. Those who could not afford a countryside home stayed in Pensionen and hotels. In some of these popular villages you can still find “Kursalons” where turn of the century Viennese would gather to waltz their summer nights away (because a Viennese cannot not waltz, even on vacation).

In addition to dancing, the Sommerfrischler liked to hike, swim, boat, sing, play music, take walks, play chess and one can only imagine stir up trouble for the locals.

Another beloved past time of the Sommerfrische, was the so-called Liebeleien or Gespüssis. Fresh air? Fresh faces? Or the distance that often separated a husband and wife for several weeks at a time (with wife and children tucked away in the countryside while the man often had “important business matters” to attend to in the city)? The fragrant wild lilac bushes, the potent self-brewed Schnaps and thousand-star night skies? These were a particularly “hot” (no pun intended) topic for the writers and many works written during the turn of the century expound on some of these passionately tragic liaisons.

Of course, some say that perhaps so many went on Sommerfrische, not for salacious entertainment, but rather as an act of succumbing to social pressure — who wants to be accused of being too cheap or poor to send the family away for some Alpine recuperation? Favored Austrian Sommerfrische destinations that are still wonderfully suitable today for a cool summer visit with some beautiful traditional Austrian guesthouses:

Gosausee

Gosausee

Semmering
Rax
Payerbach
Salzkammergut: Wolfgangsee, Mondsee,
Joglland
Wienerwald
Kamptal
Weyer: Austrian poet, Peter Altenberg
And the favored swim destinations — Bad is a false cognate meaning “Bath”, NOT bad as in the opposite of good.
Bad Gastein
Bad Fusch
Altaussee
Bad Aussee
Bad Vöslau: Austrian writer, Arthur Schnitzler
Bad Ischl: the Emperor Franz Josef, Johann von Nestroy, Karl Kraus, who noted how many villas were being built for Viennese summer enjoyment, and commented that the mountains started to look more like decorations that had been put up around the Viennese Ringstrasse. Print This Post

More interesting reading on Sommerfrische:
Presse Article on Sommerfrische

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