Wiener Ball

Vienna is famous for its ballroom dancing. The great show that is a Viennese ball is a living monument to a time when the city was the center of an enormous and illustrious empire. In the 1800s, the privilege of dancing in full regalia would have been reserved for the wealthy and "Adel" of Austria.  Today, however, a simpleton like myself can slide my souls upon the painstakingly carved parquet floors of the Hofburg, however ungracefully.  The Fulbright commission provided the opportunity for the ball of a lifetime and no amount of chorophobia was going to keep me away.

We were a group of about 12 20-somethings braving the snow soiled streets in spite of our tuxedos and gowns to reach the Hofburg. I of course will not tell you which one I had on.  There came a moment about 50 yards from the Hofburg where we all stopped our nervous chatter and gazed in expectant awe at the golden-lit façade of the half moon shaped palace.  Thrilling, regal, intimidating. We were stepping into a different time, cue the goosebumps. It's the kind of feeling that makes you raise your eyebrows about two inches.

Inside, it was everything you might have dreamt a ball would be like.  A sea of people waltzing to the music of Johann Strauss provided by a real life orchestra. No canned music here.  The dance floor blooms all at once every time the pattern calls for a twirl of dresses that likely cost more than I've ever made in my life.  Faces are reserved, trance-like, sighing an effortless "look how easy this is for us."  And then there was us...  None of us knew how to waltz and even with a crash course the week before (all expenses paid) we were stiff and clumsy at best.  Despite this, it was enormous fun. The guys willing to dance were outnumbered by eager females so the three of us (Peter from Tennessee, Aaron from Michigan, and myself) got passed around quite a bit.  It's probably the most fun I've ever had dancing and that's without any liquid courage.
I'm remember walking back to the hotel sometime around 5 in the morning with extremely sore feet and the widest of smiles.  It was a truly a night to be remembered for the rest of one's life. Aaron and I came out of our shells, Peter fell in love with a girl, and an imperial tradition was infiltrated by a troupe of Americans of no particular Royal lineage or wealth.  I'm thankful for the times I live in.

L'enfant et les sortilèges

The Opera was a great success.  There were at least a hundred talented people involved in the entire production. I honestly never considered all of the necessary roles to pull of such medium sized production as ours.  I'm speaking of course about the sound crew, stage designers, vocal trainers, costume organizers, and directors all of which made up a quarter of the manpower.

After almost two months of rehearsals, the final show on the 17th of December was sad for all of us.  We had all grown accustomed to seeing on another on an almost daily basis.  Now it was simply goodbye, good luck, I hope to see you again in the future.  It's hard to know, my assured time here is limited.  I remember walking out of the theater and thinking about how suddenly the end had come, anti-climacticly.

Makeup

The entire Opera choir

David

Backstage set

Orchestra before the start

Daniel, Joachim, and I

I forgot their names

A few of the guys taking a picture while the girls are onstage singing.

Krampustag

On the 2nd of December all across Austria a festival known as Krampustag takes place.  It is an alpine tradition where beastly, ram-horned creatures run through the streets scaring little children and adults alike.  You could think of him as the reverse of Santa Claus, something for children to fear.  The picture below says "Greetings from Krampus."  Notice how he's teasing the child with threatening chains and switches!

Horrifying, right?

Before December 2nd, I had no idea any of this existed.  After leading what was a fairly normal Sunday I received a call from Iris, a friend from Holland, about coming out to watch a "parade."  It's been my philosophy thus far not to decline any opportunities so naturally I put on a few layers and scampered out into the -4 C weather.  As I neared the the center of town I noticed a gentle stream people, all headed to the same place.  Their faces and nervous chatter seemed unusual for a people who generally aren't very loud or full of emotion in public.  I slipped into the crowd, rounded the corner leading to the main square and stood awestruck.  Thousands of people crammed into a space the size of a baseball field.  For every cobblestone laid in the square, two feet stood to occupy it.  Not only were there loads of people but food stalls, a stage, blaring speakers, police, and an enormous Christmas Tree.  I found my friends (Iris from Holland, Patrick from Ireland, Karin from Tyrol, and John from Arkansas) after a 40 minute wade through the sea of loud, boisterous bodies.  We huddled together along the cleared "parade" route in the cold, waning sunlight.  Soon, the main event began.

People in elaborately horrifying costumes wandered through the street.  Their masks were a combination of ram horns, bloody flesh, raged fur, and piercing red eyes.  Many of them had rusted, noisy cowbells strapped to their backs and clanking chains swinging from their arms.  It was a noisy affair that gave the crowd quite a heightened sense of awareness.  Startling scream-prone girls, creating a lot of racket, and showing off their elaborate costumes was the order of the day.  There were hundreds and it took 2 hours for all of them to pass by.  To make the experience more interesting, my friends and I decided to force eachother into the paths of oncoming Krampuses.  It's great fun watching the terrified expression of your friends as you hold them in place while a Krampus snarls at them an inch from their nose.  That is, until it was my turn as I screamed like a little girl when a female Krampus tried to give me what I think was a kiss.  These things were hideous!

Luckily in Graz they aren't aloud to physically interact with people.  However, in most smaller towns the Krampuses run through the streets, beating and terrorizing anyone who looks like they'll scream.  The video below shows what the Krampustag means for many other Austrians.

Brutal stuff.  I've included the few pictures from our experience that turned out anything recognizable.  Maybe we should do something like this in the States?

Hamburgers and Iranians

I have been singing in the opera choir for Ravel's L'Enfant et les Sortileges for a little over a month now, slowly getting to know the other choir members.  Surprisingly, the majority of us are not from Austria which is also the case for most of the students at the music university.  Among my fellow tenors there are guys from Thailand, Pakistan, and Mississippi.  Because we don't rehearse as often with the women (sopranos and altos), making acquaintance with them has taken a little longer.
Just this past week I struck up a conversation with an alto pertaining to something in the sheet music.  She was struggling only a little with her German but resorted to an English word while explaining something.  I believe the word was "awkward."  Anyway, I replied in English. She realized that I was a native speaker and excitedly jumped to English.*  I asked her where she was from and she cautiously said Iran.  Of course, my  reaction was instant intrigue and excitement as I'd never met an Iranian before.  On top of this, there are the lingering tensions between the United States and Iran over their supposed nuclear program.  Naturally, this only makes me more excited and eager to speak with her.  The geopolitical nerd came out of me as I blurted out the reply "Waohh, that's awesome!"  Her smile dropped.  "Why do you think that is awesome.  Wait, are you from America?"  I nodded.  Her look of "what the hell do we say now" was priceless.  Apparently avoiding any sensitive topics, she turned around and stared out of the window.  Because we formed 2/3 of the people in the room at the time the silence could only be described as... what's the word? awkward?

Last week my stomach was feeling a little homesick so I decided to make hamburgers and macaroni and cheese.  I know what you're thinking, eating this by myself would make me a fatty so I invited some Austrian friends along to share in my gluttony.  It was all delicious which was surprising because, I must admit, I've never made mac and cheese from scratch before.  I found this recipe online which turns out was the original one Thomas Jefferson invented.  Check out the photos...

Looks good doesn't it...

Also, my daily commute has become much healthier.  I bought a bike!  It is awesome!  I ride all over town now and save hours from my week (not to mention money I would have spent on the tram).  I'm still trying to think of what name to give it.  I'm thinking of calling it Arnold (after the governator who is believe it or not from Graz) but am open to suggestions.

...and just to round off the title a little more.  I met a guy the other day whose name is Daniel.  Daniel is from Hamburg.  There's nothing particularly interesting about him except for the fact that I can understand his German (at least when compared to Austrians).


*Whenever two foreign people meet in a foreign country there is usually a brief period of spirited back and forth questioning that goes something like this...

What's your name?
Where are you are you from?
What are you doing here?

...from there it can be unpredictable.

Unterricht

Beat Furrer, with whom I am currently studying, is a fairly renowned composer with works performed all of the world.  His style is abrasive to some, hectic to others, and expressive to the few who follow modern art music.  I've had two lessons with him so far and can safely say that he enjoys discussing things in terms of vagueries.  It's fun in a way to listen to him go on for 15 minutes about how to formulate a piece of music with aural "tools," using the metaphor of a tree to describe organic complexity in music.  He is honestly a very nice guy and patiently listens when I attempt to describe (in broken German) what I'm thinking and how I intend to accomplish my goals.  In addition, I have the feeling that in our brief lessons, he understands fairly well my musical intentions (perhaps a little better than I do myself).
The only problem with taking lessons from Beat  (pronounced bay-aht for my american friends) is that he's a little too renowned.  I cannot tell you have many times during my lesson that he took phone calls from some other performer or renowned musician.  It seems like he gets call from conductors, opera singers, professional instrumentalists around the clock.  And, he's knows them all on a first name basis.................  Additionally, everyone wants his ear so the lessons tend to be interrupted by students fawning and bowing before him in the hopes of making an impression.  You add all that up and what should be an hour long lesson becomes a 20 minute dash to get input from the "master."  (Also, he's a name dropper. LOL) Has his input made a difference in my music?  In a word, no.  I'll give it time and see what happens.  Third lesson is the charm...right?

Anfang und Wohlfühlen

I have now lived Graz for exactly 20 days.  I apologize for not keeping vigilant update during that time.  Yes,  a lot has happened in this time however it tends to add up to a lot of nothing.  What I mean is that I've filled out a lot of paperwork, walked (sometimes dragged myself) all over town, visited a dozen or so offices, made embarrassing language mistakes, met a lot of new people, and eaten a lot of food.  What this all amounts to is a better understanding of the city, slightly more honed language skills, registration at the university, simple amenities such as health insurance, people to talk to, and maybe a little more fat on the waist.  These are all things that one seems to take for granted back home.  We know exactly where to go and who to talk to get all of these things. But, when you're in a foreign country the difficulty skyrockets and it almost seems as if the country's amount of procedural red tape is somehow outrageous in comparison to your own.  That's been my biggest complaint of late anyway.
It has to be said however, Austrians seem to love their paperwork.  I'm almost certain that you have to submit paperwork in order to make friends.
For those who are curious and/or worried, here's what you should know.
-I love my apartment.  It's "klein aber fein" and has everything I could hope for (plus my new bed sheets which I bought at IKEA).
-Classes started a week and a half ago and I am in the groove of things finally.  I haven't met with Professor Furrer, that will happen next Tuesday (post to follow).
-I'm singing in an opera choir for Ravel's L'Enfant et les sortileges.  It's great fun so far and the performances are scheduled for December.

Other than that I'm happy and healthy.  Feel free to write me with any questions or if you just get bored and feel like talking to someone. :-)

Glück und Pech

9/22: As I write this, Jetlag has still not settled and I’m exhausted.  Naturally, I left Vienna too late and arrived in Graz at 1:30.  My landlady placed the key to my prearranged apartment in a nearby pharmacy for me to pick up BEFORE 1 p.m.  This was very thoughtful of her considering that she was out of town on a business trip.  Those in the states will not understand this, but shops on Saturday usually close by midday (12:30 in this case).  So, It's two more nights in a Hostel for me.  Cha-Ching!

9/28: Naturally, I was under some strain so I decided to walk around town which could only cheer me up.  I stowed all of my 4 bags in a train station locker (thank you Austrian rail system) and followed the map in my head to the center of town.  Those of you who know me well understand that I pride myself in my ability to navigate. I have to admit, when I got the center of town (Hauptplatz) on my own, it felt extremely good.
I had been looking at pictures and maps of Graz for the entire summer but nothing truly compares to actually beholding something with your own eyes.  For me, it was almost emotional when the classical Rathaus materialized around the corner with its pale stone facade. The old town is gorgeous and charming in a way that asks the modern spectator to imagine what a 17th century world must have been like.  Any disappointment at my lack of lodging melted away and I was compelled to walk around staring, wondering.

After meandering around for and hour, I eventually came back to reality with a need for a bed and food.  First, I needed money and I happened rather fortuitously upon an ATM, or Bankomat.  I stuck my card in, punched in my numbers and kind of looked around while the machine took its time to do whatever it does.  There, lying on the ground, was 50 euros.  Just sitting there in front of my left foot.  I looked around again.  Nobody was watching me and nobody seemed to be looking for their lost money.  I looked through the windows of the bank to see if someone was inside.  Empty, no signs of life.  I looked around again.  So, remember those little morality questions we have all been asked at some point where they ask if you'd take the money, leave the money, or give it to the authorities?  I took the money and that has made all the difference.