Wien...dex

Vienna is not without shortcomings, no. If it were, it would be unbearably perfect. I have learnt that those free open air classical music concerts with food and beer stands happen every night. And there are also open air movie screenings - BYOPicnic. Just like that. Here and there, scattered around the parks of Vienna. Tfoooey! What city behaves like that? Next thing you know they'll have free wireless all around town. Wait, they actually do. There is café upon café with free wireless connection... Vienna is the number one city in the world when it comes to hot spots. Dayum! It's been all this time right under my nose, a mere hour away from Bratislava, and nobody informed me about all these wonders.

I was thus happy to see that every major tourist attraction is under reconstruction. A sign of humanity. Scaffoldings, noise, dust... a breath of fresh air to me. Naturally buildings are cloaked with large sheets that depict exactly how the building will be reconstructed, but that don't fool me. American tourists peeking above and under the fences, dropping their safari hats and even themselves into dust.

A foreigner like me may find another thing puzzling, riding the Strassenbahn around town. And I am not referring to the fact that the trams are running on time, exactly down to the last second. In fact, if they're just a little ahead of themselves according to the schedule, tram will just sit at a stop until it's the right time to go. No. I'm talking about all the Burg Theaters and their mysterious connection to 'Kasinos'. “Burgtheater Im Kasino”. What on Earth…? Now, there are two possible explanations. Either the Viennese theatre goers are unnaturally attracted to gambling (or it’s a matter of status to be seen in one…) or, as my friend Walter from Germany maintains, ‘Kasino’ stands for a cafeteria. Originally it described an officers’ mess, then it was used to mark any public cafeteria. I reckon Walter would know, he’s German. But why do Viennese have a dining hall in every single theatre? That puzzles me.

I went to look at an apartment today. I had aid of an interactive map online. Everything was perfect. I found it on the screen easily, printed the map with location circled, grabbed the papers, went. Even gave myself a full half hour to find the place, though it was not far. I crossed the Danube channel and headed left, just like the map showed. Went for awhile, way longer than seven minutes Zwetelina said it would take. I scrutinize the map. The bastard that calls itself my loyal computer printed a map for Groß Schiftgasse instead of Groß Stadtguttgasse…. Needless to say….I was late. Half an hour late. I am cursed and I resign to fate. I will always be late. No matter what I do and how hard I try. I’m just not wired to be on time. It was a charming decrepit old house with an overgrown courtyard. Apartment was renovated and nice, visit uneventful. On the way back to the Institute though, I met a dead man. I am not sure if it qualifies as a meeting technically. I suppose that to meet someone would require the other person be alive and cognizant, but in any case I at least saw a dead man. Or a dead looking man. Right in front of the Institute (which reminds me, that I can now officially sing:”Root-eee-tooot, root-eee-toot, I’m the girl from institute…but that’s another digression and a looong story ) at the U stop. Two men on a bench, one sitting, one plopped down on the bench. One red if not outright purple, very much oblivious to the outside world including his friend, focusing only on his bottle with a blue substance, very much like Windex. All he cared about was not letting go off that bottle, which a passerby tried to pry out. His friend was neither red nor purple. He was very much gray with dark and yellowish circles around his eyes. Young man. Still clutching the windex in his hand. The same passerby was feeling his pulse, calling ambulance. I heroically walked on by…

At the Institute I was already late for a meeting that nobody told me about… It was an important one, too. We met to agree that we’ll meet every week… Harrumph. I go up to my office. I have a deadline of all deadlines tomorrow, need to finish one million training modules and then some bibliographies and role plays. So I decorate my office and sit down to write my blog. Now off to the stinking train to commence my two hour long commute home. And yes, everybody does stink. Again. What is up with you, fellow country persons? They also start pulling out food as soon as their butt hits the seat. Home made sandwiches… garlic and onion fill the air. Must take the fast train, one with the good looking people next time.

Got home OK. My mother is still getting used to having me around again. She cooked a salmon soup and a complicated zucchini concoction. She serves me as if I was a prime minister of some semi-important country. Even washes the dishes after me, which is making me a little nervous. I mean, the woman gives me money, cooks and cleans without hesitation. Who does that? She even asks how my day was and listens intently. Dad is not so thrown out of his element. We make civilized conversations as he passes to and from kitchen to get his wine spritzer. Now there’s an idea. I’m sure all my projects will proceed more gaily and speedily with some wine to accompany me. Yes. It doesn’t sound that bad to work anymore. Just one more glass and I can whip out a training module in a jiffy. Just watch!