Flying Firewood, and Other Austrian Feats

Like many old houses in rural Austria, the cottage here relies completely on firewood for heating--a "kachelofen" in the front of the house and a wood-burning stove in the kitchen. Very "Little House on the Prairie."
But look at this, Ma and Pa--my cords of wood being delivered by crane.

The Hotel Fire Hazard and Other Tales from Tbilisi

This time last year I had a room at the Fire Hazard Hotel in Tbilisi. The one where the front door was busted so instead of fixing it, they just stuck a bicycle lock on it and called it a day.

And for some reason after about a week they had to move me so they could "repaint." I was the only guest, and there were plenty of rooms that needed painting, but apparently mine just couldn't wait another minute. Alright, so I moved. And the little fridge I'd begged for in the first place, I was sure was coming with me. "Don't forget the fridge!--" --was my final warning to a guy carrying a table lamp and my suitcase into the new room.

They didn't forget the fridge, but since I didn't tell them to plug it in, well, that's my own fault that I had sour milk in the morning, isn't it.

Ahh, good ole Tbilisi. A friend of mine was making flight arrangements out of there this past December, and... well, I'll let her tell it:

"We went into the BMI office to confirm our flight and get our seat assignments. The woman told us we couldn't do that, but she'd write down the request on a post-it note and tell the people at the airport."

Level-Headed But Without a Level

Their German precision and engineering means they could thread a needle in outer space, but the Austrians ... cannot? will not? ... make a level parking lot. They're always sliiiightly off-kilter, never fully flattened, so unless you keep a foot locked around one of the shopping cart wheels while unloading your things into the car, the cart will always, always, always wander away.

Is it Okay to Pass Wind in Windpassing, Austria? And Other Rules of Etiquette for Delicately Named Places

So a couple of months ago I stopped in a shop called Hell, then drove through Windpassing, Austria, on my way to Fucking. Which is right next to Hucking, but since that has no known sexual or bathroom connotation, it's hardly worth mentioning.

But as this New York Times article points out, the Brits seem to take home the prize when it comes to gutter talk. Their streets are full of "butts" and "crap," so all y'all from Toad Suck, Arkansas, can just go on home. You're not even invited to the ball(s).

A Sobering Look at Kaisersteinbruch

Just about 3 miles outside of Bruck a.d. Leitha is this tiny road sign pointing the way to a soldiers' cemetery. I can assure you, no other signs are posted related to what was a very significant POW camp in WWII called Kaisersteinbruch.














The entrance is lined by trees, and the site is cared for by the Austrian military.


















50,000 soldiers were interned at Kaiserbruch, which is ranked Salag XVII-A--it was a camp reserved for enlisted soldiers.















This monument was put up by the Black Cross in 1989. Hard to imagine, really, that nothing was here before, but so it goes. The sign states that Russian, Polish, Romanian, French, Italian, Yugoslavian, British and American soldiers are buried here, along with "unknown soldiers."








































The info from the Black Cross says that 10,000 soldiers died here (I'm presuming this is the mass grave), but a local conscript who cares for it told a friend of mine that the number is fantastically low. He believes most of the 50,000 interned here also died here. So far, no luck verifying it. However, whatever liberation was done, likely would have been carried out by Americans, who also liberated a nearby POW camp in Deutsch Altenburg.







Here's some perspective on the numbers: the nearby county seat of Bruck currently has a population of about 15,000 citizens. Kaisersteinbruch itself (just 'round the bend in the road) looks to have a population well under 1,000.

Standards? What Standards?

I'm guessing something like "good design" would have just been too easy...

President Obama

I just like the sound of it.

Thank You, Dr. King

In our house in Windsor Woods, we had a playroom (converted garage) that had two floor-to-ceiling bookcases. To my young self these bookcases were so vast and so impressive I may as well have been in the National Archives. Sometimes I'd go down into the rec room, sit cross-legged on the linoleum floor, and just spend alone time with them. 

 I once pulled a slim book off and took it out to my mother, who was in the kitchen. I asked her about it because I recognized the guy on the cover. She told me it was a speech that had been compiled into a book, The "I Have a Dream" book. She flipped through it and began to read a passage to me, but got too choked up to finish. Such a moving show of reverence and awe I'd never seen before.

Thinking of Green Grass and Warmer Days

It ain't my Chicago days of -30F (-35C), thank god, but still brrrr here in Central Europe. Thought I'd be spending a good part of February in a tropical climate but now it's looking unsure.
So these cold hands and feet have me thinking of warmer days. Specifically, a late summer trip to England to visit family and a wander through Thomas Hardy country.

Fading Papers

My father offered a little bit of clarity for me the other day. My life is fog-filled these gray days, so at least in this one aspect there was a little rubber raft I could hop into.

It was about the economy. Or rather, the fear of it, which has me waking at 3am with my heart racing and hands sweating. No kiddin.'

(Not) Breaking News: Newspapers are a bad biz to be in these days.

So we talked about the editors who had bit the dust, the slashed rates, the bleeding newsrooms.

Dad is an old railroad man. He told me he thought he'd spend his whole life on the railroads. And the way he talks about using the Pullman Car on his Richmond/Atlanta route, or explains the engineering and function of a steam engine, I can see it's true. He talks about it the way I might talk about leads and kickers.

"The railroads died on me," he said. "I never believed it would happen, but it did.

But you manage. It'll change, but you'll manage. You'll be okay." 

Gnomes Take a Mittag Pause

I pass by this house a lot because it's somewhere near the national park that Remi likes to romp around in Lower Austria.

It creeps me out. It's like some kind of prison yard for garden gnomes. The photo picks up only about half of the gnomes. There must be around 100 of 'em. And note the ones on the window sill, looking down at all their garden gnome buddies, watching everything they do. Nosy little bastards.

When I lived in Baltimore there was a story about two guys who set out cross-country at about dawn one morning. Just before leaving Baltimore, they kidnapped a garden gnome from some lady's front yard. They jotted down her address and sent her photos of the gnome from various points of interest along their trip. He was always bound and gagged with duct tape, but there he was in, say, downtown Dallas. And there again in New Mexico. And, aha, the Grand Canyon! And woo hoo, Californ-I-A!!!
As far as I remember, the Baltimore Sun started following the heist, and posted the photos in the paper. When the guys got back to Baltimore they reunited the gnome with his Baltimore family. Took off the duct tape, too.

On the Mend

There she is. My fantastic little one.
Today she saw her best buddy (besides me, of course :)) for the first time since her leg injury in September. Til now, she hasn't been allowed to play with other dogs, for fear of re-injury.
But seeing those two together again was like watching an Oprah reunion.
Lots of unabashed joy and celebration. Brought a tear or two to my eyes.
They both ran and wrestled in the park. Remi overdid it and was limping when she came home, so I have to be more careful next time.

Von Trappland

Christopher Plummer once (or more?) referred to The Sound of Music as The Sound of Mucus. Allegedly, anyway. He hated the film. Said it was drippy and sappy.

Austrians know the title but most have never seen the movie. Of course. Why would they?

If you're a tourist in Salzburg, it's a Sound of Music orgy, complete with a sing-along bus tour.

But if you go about an hour outside of Salzburg, along some very snaky roads set deep in the countryside, and you happen upon the hamlet of Vormoos, step out and look around. There are just a few houses here and this is where the priest who helped the Von Trapps escape was born and raised. Lived his whole life here. In the film, he was represented as Max the music promoter, but in real life he was a priest (was his name Warner? I can't remember.)

But the priest also promoted the Von Trapp Family Singers, and they used to have impromptu performances here.

Lonely Lower Austria

The "Forget Me Not" Hotel in a forlorn, forgotten and forgettable little town
in Lower Austria.

But still worth getting out of the car and snapping a pic.

Maybe not so forgettable after all?

A House and Some Irises

I dreamed about a house.

I walked into the yard, which was small and cluttered, but I seemed happy with it, knowing there was so much potential for it.

I walked into the house and saw on the counter a vase if irises. They had seen better days, but there was an easel next to them and someone had been painting them. The image was not quite finished.

I really liked the house. It was old and funky, with a lot of open space in the middle area, with rooms shooting off of that area.

Slovakian Mobsters

The first few times I traveled to Bratislava in the mid 1990s,(when I was living in Chicago) mob hits were carried out while I was there. One allegedly went down directly in front of the Danube "Botel" I was staying in, while I was staying there. My coworker and I remember hearing the shots, although that could be our memories filling in gaps. We did cross police lines to exit the hotel in the morning.
At the time, the fight seemed to be over control of the bars and nightclubs that were popping up in the downtown area, which was in a state of renewal after decades of communism. The type of violence seemed antithetical to the appearance of this slow moving city.

But according to this recent Chicago Tribune article, the mob has taken hold. Big time.

Answered Prayers?

Dear Jesus, Please Wash My Car.

Wheeee!!!!!

Blast away the notion that Vienna is a sleepy old world city. Maybe it looked ye oldy worldy with carriage horses careering through the street, but it was anything but sleepy New Year's Day.
Here's a more detailed account.