A weekend outside Vienna

Vienna Weekend 11-13 November 2011

Friday and the start of another weekend   11/11/11

It was Friday we had discussed what we might do for the weekend but we were still uncertain.  One of the TAs was to celebrate her birthday.  She had sent out a Facebook invitation, setting a date, time and location for a little get together and meal at Deewan. 

Deewan is a sort of Indian buffet where you eat as much as you can and pay as much as you wish.  A glutton’s paradise.

It was fantastic.

As some of the Christmas markets had opened we moved on to Museumsquartier to sample some punsch.

An Irish bar in the third district, O’Connor’s Old Oak Pub was to have a sort of unofficial opening that very night.  A few Irish friends of mine had already announced their intentions to be there.  I suggested that I lead the troupe of partygoers to this low-key opening. 

Unsure of where exactly we were to go I led everyone the only way I knew-which in retrospect might be what some would politely call the ‘scenic route’ and others ‘lost’.

It was suggested to us that we take the U3 to Schlachtausgasse but I was unsure how to reach the pub from there.

I pass an Irish bar everyday to school.  As this bar is in Rennweg I hazarded a guess that they were one and the same.  However, my fellow countrymen confused me with misinformation.  Good intentions led us on a path to hell.  Well, not hell but a hellishly embarrassing ordeal. 

I led the mass of impatient celebrants.

Eventually, whilst chatting to members of the group and my lieutenant, Kirsten, I realised we could have gotten off at Zippererstraße.  We had gone too far.

On realising my error I led the exodus at Enkplatz (a mere stop from the end of the line at Simmering) but then again only a stop too far.

We, Kirsten and I led the pilgrimage to the straßenbahn stop.  It was cold.  I am pretty sure it was freezing and I tightened the scarf around my neck and adjusted my gloves but we soon learned that the next tram was not to come for another 20 minutes.

This was met with a unanimous disapproval and a chorus of groans from the congregation of TAs.  We retraced our steps and after a few phone calls we finally reached our destination. 

This was the pub I pass everyday on the 71 tram.

The interior of the pub was beautifully wooden.  On opening the door we were met with a warm blast of air from the magnificent open fire.

With fellow TAs and friends, Dietlinde and Jeanine (via phone), we discussed the prospect of a day trip to Bratislava.  In the end, we agreed on Krems. 

The next item on the agenda was how to make this trip.  We discussed various scenarios and means of acquiring the illusive vorteilskarte.  We agreed to meet at Franz Josef Bahnhof.

We all had a drink, at least one before the most of the TA party dispersed.

Some planned to reconvene at café G-punkt but I like the others slipped away and took the U3 home.  It was a relatively early night 00:30 but I was embarking on an adventure to Krems that very morning.

Krems              12/11/2011

I rolled out of bed and prepared a meagre breakfast.

At the station chaos ensued.  There was a rush as we dashed to the photo booth.  There was a minute window of opportunity, where we could if we hurried, wrestle with the bureaucratic bump that was the vorteilskarte (I have yet to receive mine).

After much panic the ticket seller urged us to run on for the train (I was too slow for him, I don’t rush well.  I pulled the cash out of my wallet in a haphazard manner, panicked as I misread the application form, stumbled, stuttered, coughed and carried out every other stalling bodily compulsion and paroxysm you can imagine before the exasperated ticket man dismissed me with a half-hearted wave.  We were free.  Two vorteilskarte, those now in possession of Dietlinde and Jeanine were sufficient for our group ticket.

We boarded the train and soon we were off towards our destination. 

Dietlinde had kindly made me a peanut butter and banana sandwich.  I munched on this as we discussed my failed venture to acquire the coveted vorteilskarte.

In Krems we met Dietnlinde’s friend, Christa, who was studying at the Uni there (Krems is a university town much like Maynooth).  We dropped our luggage at Christa’s apartment and we met two of her friends just surfacing (they had shared Christa’s room the night before), Lukas and Frances.  We shook hands then ventured off in search of brunch or any kind of sustenance.

We found it in a shopping centre café (after Jeanine and I bought some Dickmann’s that I awkwardly lugged throughout the town that day).

We had brunch and then embarked on a wonderful tour of Krems as Christa divulged the hidden histories of the town.

On th is tour we visited several campus and sampled some local glühwein by a beautiful wooden fire.

Then, we moved on to the town and stopped by a few stalls.  We chatted along the way learning a great deal about each other.

All this walking was tough work and steadily we built up a ravenous appetite.

We went to a heurigen-a new experience for me.  A heurigen is a wonderful little establishment that sources its own food and drink.

We discussed some life issues here and exchanged many pearls (or perils) of wisdom some or all of which were promptly forgotten but all were agreed the food, drink and chatter were amazing.

Afterwards, we walked back to Christa’s flat.  We took the pretty scenic route (but did not get lost!).  We reminisced, telling tales of our youth before we reached the flat.  It was only 9 o’clock but it felt considerably later.  That walking tour was perhaps a little taxing…

We sampled a variety of tea, chai tea among others, dipping into the assortment of boxes upon the table.  We chat a while and got to work on the remaining dichmann’s (those delicious little marshmallow filled choco wonders).

One by one we all drifted off to our improvised sleeping quarters.

13/11/11

The next morning we went for brunch.

I had an omelette.

We walked idly through the streets once more.

Finally, we collected our bits and pieces and made our way to the bahnhof.

We said our goodbyes.

Our train came first.

Jeanine, Dietlinde and I reflected upon the events of the weekend.

I got a text from Jon who suggested we meet for lunch or dinner.

We went to Flanagans (more food) and I ordered a cottage pie.

The girls joined us for a time before leaving for home and lesson plans.

I lounge with Jon while we kill time before heading towards the Christmas market, Altes AKH.

I linger for a while before giving up and going home, carrying on my back my gigantic red camping bag.

It had been quite the weekend and for once we had only spent on night in an Irish bar.

Back to School, 4 Oct -6 Oct

I started working at my school on Tuesday 4th of October as the school had kindly allowed me to take Monday off so that I could move myself into my new accommodation.
I was a little nervous truth be told.  I had previously suggested that I visit the school the Friday before I went to Graz but a communication error mean that this did not happen.  I was a little embarrassed.  I had hoped to make a good first impression but I was failing miserably.

My betreuungslehrerin asked me to turn up about 0730.  I had sussed out the location of the school (a short tram ride from my new home).  I was confident of the direction but not which tram to take.

Despite my ambitions to have a 'trial run'.  I found myself gambling on Tuesday morning.  All my impressionable eggs in one basket.  It was a success, although I did get lost in the maze that is the HTL.

They eased me into lessons on the Irish, Ireland and stereotypes with me speaking a great deal so that the kids might get used to my 'special accent'.

It is comforting to note that the Irish diaspora has cemented our reputation as melancholic alcoholics who relish wet weather and work in a mainly agrarian economy.
I had hoped to disprove all of the above misconceptions but I understood it was going to be an uphill battle.  With my special accent I described myself and where I cam from ('halfway between Dublin and Belfast'), as the crude map in their text book highlighted only 3 cities, Dublin, Cork and Belfast.

Every lesson was the same.
I would speak a little, talk about myself before uttering a few words of Irish, a language most of them had no ideas existed.  Some even disputed that it was a language, instead saying it was a dialect.  I proved them wrong.
I spoke a few words of Irish.
Hello.
My name is.
I am from.
I am working in Vienna.

Not only the lexicon but the vernacular amazed them.
To think that a European language could sound so different from what they knew.
I also gave them a brief description fo the GAA and gaelic games.

As a people interested in a variety of sports from all over the world they lapped up all information about the GAA greedily.  Gaelic football had a familiarity but a uniqueness they had not known before.
A cross between football and rugby?  Or soccer and basketball?
I let them decide.

On Thursday I was invited by my betreuungslehrerin to attend a short English musical with her fifth form class.  It chronicled a the foundation and crumbling of a relationship between a man and a woman; wonderfully uplifting stuff.  Still, highly entertaining.

Thereafter, I met with other TAs and commenced our weekend relaxation.

Return to Vienna

Sept 30th - Oct 3rd

Poked and prodded aboard  the train we finally found a seat to rest our weary legs.  The journey from Graz to Vienna is not overly far.  The exhaustion of the previous week in Graz had extracted its toll.
When we got to Miedling there were a few sad and sorry goodbyes, promises of reunion and pacts to meet at regular intervals.
I called my friend who had helpfully suggested I stay with him until I secured the keys to my flat on the following Monday.  My friend, Jon, had just acquired the flat the night before.  He and his new flatmate had gone out to christen the deal & say farewell to an old friend who was to fly back to England the next day.

My phone call stirred Jon from his slumber.  I was to make my way to Ottakring on the U3, then call for further instructions.  Jon sounded a little groggy.  I, with my heavy luggage dragged my burdens to Ottakring where Jon and I were reunited after a week's interlude.
He needed food.
So did I.
We went to Schnitzelhaus to seek out a remedy.
It was the cure we had craved.
Jon led the way to his flat; a pretty, if dusty Viennese flat with a high ceiling.
Pretty.
but it needed a scrub.
It was also distinctly lacking in furniture (as many Austrian flats are, they don't believe in furnishings).

There is a couch type thing.  I lay down and I slept on this.  Several hours later, I am roused from my sleep as Jon and his flatmate, Liana return from an excursion.

That evening we bought pizzas at a nearby supermarket but without any cutlery or utensils our dining options were severely limited.  We use our Schnitzelhaus boxes as plates tearing lumps off from our pizzas.

It's a pathetic scene.
Or one of improvised genius I am not sure.
The departing pal , Guy pays a brief visit.
We shake hands.
I would have liked to know him better; his stories were something to marvel at.
The next morning we watched a film, all of us lazy and slow to move.

'Submarine' a strange Welsh film.

Later on we went on an excursion through the city.  Jon and Liana bought bed stuff at Zielpunkt.

I bought a blanket and two jumpers reasoning that it's time to bulk up my meagre supply of garments.

Cleaning fluids and bleach were purchased.
Extensive cleaning took place.
Rearrangement of wobbly furniture followed.

After a short time of intensive scrubbing my hosts withdrew to the sitting room/Jon's room for a  cigarette break-no more cleaning is carried out that evening, however, we can safely say that we took the sharp edge off of it, dusting, however, small.

I missed out on an invitation to go to late night at the museum.  Regrettable, but our night continued on to G-punkt and then Beer and Songs-I declined to sing.

The next morning was slow, sluggish and lazy.  We spent our time sharing various TV shows, The Big Bang theory and Game of Thrones etc.

The next day our mutual friend, Niamh, would fly in from Dublin and I would collect my key for my new flat.
Two weeks in Vienna but finally I would have my own space to lounge.  I would have to move in there before I started at my new school.

Monday had a lazy start.  Jon and Liana had their first day of work.  I dossed and dozed until Niamh arrived with Jon to deposit her luggage while we went to collect our keys.
We wandered into town to Flanagans for lunch before moving on to the office to pick-up our keys.
It was a gruelling three hours.

After this ordeal, it was a relief to have somewhere to call my own, my little humble abode.

Mission to Graz

26-30 Sept 2011

Having made arrangements with veteran Teaching Assistants (TAs) to tag along with them to Graz.  I hauled my weary bones out of Wombats early Monday morning.
I was exhausted.

I had spent my Sunday struggling to polish my MA thesis that was due for submission on October 14th.
I had to carry my bulky heavy bags to Graz; I had nowhere to leave them in Vienna.  My camping bag I swung onto my back (with tremendous effort I might add), my rucksack onto my chest.  I dropped my coat oever my rucksack onto my chest.  I dropped my coat over my rucksack, a copy of Terry Pratchett's Small Gods poking out of the coat pocket.

I made my way to Meidling station to rendezvous with the second year TAs.  I bought my ticket.  I bump into the elders, Tori, Simon and Fabian.
I was told that I resembled a pregnant woman.  I don't deny this, although I believe  that almost any and every pregnant mammal could move with more grace and dexterity than I could muster.

On the  train we chatted and exchanged jokes.  In Graz (two hours before junior TAs were expected).  I found myself turned away from Existentialhaus and forced to walk the hot humid streets of Graz.  I was reluctant to wander far for fear I lose my way, my navigation skills being exceptionally poor.

I remembered then, that I had no toothpaste.  Immediately I became self-conscious and concerned for the well-being of my teeth and general oral hygiene.
I bought some toothpaste.
In another shop I bought sparkling water.
The heat was intense.

I returned to Existentialhaus closer to the pre-ordained time and find the reception more enthusiastic.

At the door I meet fellow TAs.
New blood, fresh spirits just like me.
We chat.
Exchange polite niceties.

There is some trademark bureaucracy to be administered and in the ensuing confusion it is suggested that I did not pay the seminar fee.  Strangely enough my Graz room mate, Peter, suffered a similar misunderstanding but after a phone call we get our key.
A few days later after some breathless persistence and blue-face insistence we clear things up.

In the afternoon we were hungry.
The group of TAs has been cleft in twain, one is to remain at Existenialhaus (and in future they commute daily), the others are escorted to the hilltop refuge of St. Martin's schloss.
Beautiful and picturesque.

We eat a meagre but long anticipated meal.
Relishing every bite.
Then, there were speeches and talks.  This was followed by wine, juice and mixing with the new kids.
A night of chuckles and bonding ensued.


Tuesday was another eventful day filled with lectures and seminars.
The TAs were divided into groups.  These groups gave us an insight into work as a TA and also helped us to understand the mindset and thinking of the youths we would be assisting.

We played games and sometimes we spoke German.  Owing to time constraints the seminars were intense (although the late night bonding may have exacerbated conditions in the late Summer heat).

Our evenings were packed with activities including a tour of Graz.
There were ample opportunities to get to know people.
The problem was of course, that Schloss Martin presented quite the hike and in late hours it was more feasible to get a taxi or indeed stay where we were (i.e. to not leave castle and some nights we didn't.  Except for those few abortive attempts to find a nearby pub.

Thursday was an emotional day topped off by a talent show.
There were various displays of our generations great potential, including some great dancers, musicians, singers and a dash of interpretative dance as well!

Afterwards, we shared a laugh as we drank the last of the wine, accepted the good advice of our mentors exchanged phone numbers and e-mail addresses before succumbing to fatigue.

The next day, some of us were a little worse for wear.  It was a good week.
Friday was marked by the dash for train as the mass exodus of Graz had begun.   Some were wise to stall and wait a little long but many of the rest of us found ourselves squeezing into aisles, our bodies pressed tightly together, faces buried in sweaty armpits and worse, before being ushered on, on what felt like a perpetual poke toward the furthermost carriage.
With much ado I found a seat.
Our journey back to Vienna had begun.
Monday would bring a whole new world of experience.

Rathaus excursion (Vienna part 3)

15 October 2011

On 15 October a delegation of Teaching Assistants sought to sample the three day Terra Madre market and avail of a free buffet lunch cobbled together from samples.

Several local and not-so-local traders set up stalls at the Rathaus promoting their organic goods and foods.  There were a wide selection of cheeses and sausages, tofu, sauces, jams, sweets, cakes and pastries.  It was an education and experience for the palate.

We weaved through the crowds, squeezing through clusters to steal a glance at the many beautiful stalls.  We wandered around dipping into the various displays, sometimes shamelessly so, the wooden toothpicks gripped in our vice-like hands, stabbing down like pistons and retracting with a prize.

We brushed shoulders with locals, organic farmers from near and abroad; some travelling great distances to be there. 

The atmosphere was relaxed and friendly, some locals venturing to ask if the Czech pastries were as good as the Austrian ones.

I replied with a blank stare and then a sympathetic frown.   Thinking back now, it was most likely a rhetorical question.

All in all, it was a wonderful afternoon and we came away with a taste for some local cuisine and a contented bellyful of pastry. 

Vienna (Part 2)

Destination Wombats


Boarding the S7 I wipe the vestiges of tears  from my cheeks.
I've begun a new life.
I change over to the U3 at Landstrasse and make my way to Westbahnhof.  I have to find a hostel at the top of Mariahilferstrasse; the major shopping street in Vienna.  With much ado I find the right U-bahn exit and at the hostel's counter I pay my dues.  However, I cannot access my dorm bed until 2pm.  I have to wait and I have 2 hours to kill.

In this time I avail of overpriced and cheaply manufactured crap coffee and devour the last of my milky moos.  I wait.   I eventually gain access to the wifi.
I lounge around until finally at 2 o'clock I can enter my room.  Exhausted and with the anticipation of a sneaky nap I slowly, awkwardly ascend the stairs and find my dorm.  I flick the card against the reader and breach the room.
I meet three people; two Californians and a Dane.

I get a text from a fellow Irishman and teaching assistant about coffee in the city.
I make my bed, tease my weary soul by lying in it (ever so briefly), after some brief banter with the Americans  I leave to meet my comrade.

We meet at 1516.
We walk and talk
We visit a book store.
Today is Thursday, September 22nd and it is Arthur's Day.
Arthur Guinness the patron saint of alcoholic beverages.

To celebrate (and grab a piece of this highly glorified binge session) we travel to Charlie P's on Waehringer Strasse.  Here, we eat and drink and meet fellow Irish pilgrims who have sought out the closest sacred ground to Ireland's favourite pastime
So, ends my first day in Vienna.

Vienna (Part 1)

22 September 2011

I wake.
It's 02:30 I have to catch a bus to the airport a 03:35.  A quick breakfast and two mugs of tea later my parents are lifting my bags into the boot of the car.
We're off.  It's a four mile journey into town and the roads are eerily quiet.  We arrive in good time.
The bus is late.
After much fretting and bluffing, I almost consider submitting and retreating home to recommence my sleep, my flight at 07:10 will not wait for me.  The bus comes and only 50 minutes late.  Bus Eireann at their finest.

The coach rumbles into earshot and tears up the street before edging into the bus stop.  I bid my parents farewell and I board the vehicle that will carry me to my next destination.
I inquire as to the origin of the delay.
The bus driver stares and not until he realises that I am waiting for an answer does he offer a response;
'I had to get my break.'

We stop a few miles down the road-a toilet break.  After having presented the excuse that he was late because of a compulsory coffee break, he feigns concern for his passengers and steals another.

Not without some nail biting and murmuring between passengers (most of which are destined for the airport and on a tight schedule).  We arrive at Dublin circa 05:30.  I rush through security, weaving through the crowd with a disproportional piece of my life squeezed into only 2 bags.  Roughly 18 kilos.

A humbling notion.

I'm upset and I text my girlfriend because the old adage rings true; 'misery loves company'.


Armed with a bag of milky moos, I feel brave enough to fly and to cope with the changing pressure and unavoidable popping of ears.
I breach the gate and board the vehicle of my destiny.