Bon Soir de Lyon!

Technically, this ought to be my first entry for Rhone Ramblings, as I have finally arrived in Lyon, although having never finally tied up Danube Dispatches, I want to do one last entry here for completeness's sake.
A week or so ago, Nolwenn asked me what my thoughts were on leaving Vienna. Having now spent the last few days in France, I can clearly say this: I will miss the keyboards in Vienna tremendously. Seriously, the French computer is such an indecipherable morass of incongruity that I am missing Vienna already, where the only major difference between the German and English keyboard was the switched position of the Z and Y. In France, on the other hand, just enough letters have been left where you'd expect them to be to lull you into a false sense of typographic security. Then you realize how zrong you qre... The pièce de resistence is that the period and the semi colon share the same key- just the semi colon (which is used no more in French than in English) is the default setting and you have to hit the shift key for the period. Go figure.
But of course, obtaining an appreciation for German language keyboards was far from the only reason I set off for Vienna back in March. So now that I have left town, it would be an appropriate time for a little deeper reflection on my part to see what I gained from my decision to set up shop in Vienna for nine months.
Although many of my original goals (see ironman triathlon, learning the guitar, etc.) remain unfulfilled, I leave Vienna and set off in Lyon having accomplished that which was most important to me at this stage of my life. In order of importance, three things come particularly to mind.
First, I figured out what I want to focus on careerwise over the next 5 years or so. While I may have driven a number of people nuts over the past two years (including my self at times) while figuring out what I really want to do, I am now set on pursuing a masters at a university in the UK or Ireland (hopefully and probably St. Andrews) to deepen my knowledge of the nuclear terror threat and what can be done to prevent it. I firmly believe that by becoming an expert and advocate for action within this field, I will be doing the greatest service possible to my country and humanity. There is nothing- not the economic crisis, not global warming, nor even a global influenza pandemic that would knock global civilization off its moorings so quickly as a nuke exploding anywhere. And yes, sadly, the threat is real. Also, I plan on learning Arabic to help AFS in its efforts to expand in the Arab World (this is another thing I can do to help counter extremism). And while doing all that, I also plan on turning one of my favorite hobbies, genealogy, into a profession by becoming a certified genealogist specializing in research within Europe. Finally, if that weren't enough, I also have at least two secret business plans that have come to mind during my time in Vienna that I will pursue over the coming months and years. Stay tuned.
Secondly, I came to Vienna while still struggling with depression and a hyperactive superego that was making me doubt whether I was a good enough person. I could write a book about this, and I just might, so I don't want or need to rehash everything here. Suffice it to say, however, that as frustrating as it may have been to put greater plans on hold for a while in order to come to a better understanding of what it is I was dealing with, this is exactly what the situation called for. Trying to manage a more stressful job than AFS would have been courting disaster. In fact, AFS was the perfect job for me at this point in time, and over the past four months, I have felt relentlessly better each week. I enter 2009 more confident in my future than any year since 1999, 2005 (my first 9 Jeopardy wins took place in the last weeks of 2004) included. Again, stay tuned.
But most importantly, I came to Vienna looking for love and found it. Personally, I wanted no part of the superficial dating scene in New York, or even anywhere else in the USA. Knowing that I liked European girls, was fluent in German, and had friends and prior experience living in Vienna, it wasn't a difficult choice to come to Austria. And thanks to a chance decision to go to a couch surfing party there on the auspicious date of 8/8/08 I got to know Nolwenn. It's no coincidence that I have been feeling much better since I've met her. Moreover, knowing her has helped me to focus on what I want out of my future and fight harder for it than I have in the past. She is whom I was looking for in Vienna, and she is whom I found. And so for so many reasons, but above all for her, I bid a fond auf wiedersehen to a successful 9 months in Vienna, and an even fonder salut to the next chapter of my life in Lyon.

Winding Down

In all likelihood, this will be the penultimate posting to Danube Dispatches, before my blog is reincarnated as Rhone Ramblings upon moving to Lyon, France on January 3, 2009. That having been said, this is not the time for pensive reflection- no, it's the time to be zany (in fact it's always the time.) So without further ado, here are some of the things on my mind this week:
Yesterday I discovered that there is exactly one person in the German telephone book (www.dastelefonbuch.de) whose last name is Hitler.
I wonder what the odds are that the next governor of Illinois goes to jail for corruption charges. If it happens, that would make 3 in a row, and someone would win big for having bet on a trifecta.
I will miss Vienna. I will not miss Viennese weather.
What happened to the British after Lexington? Ans: They got Concord.
I think I am finally starting to tire of baking chocolate chip cookies. I will never, however, get tired of eating chocolate chip cookies.
While making a chicken curry dish yesterday evening, I experimentally put three tomatoes in a plastic bowl and then took a beater to them. It was fun! It also made a good tomato paste substitute.
This is the first year that I am sending out a generic Christmas card letter. Either this is a nod to maturity or a sad sign that I don't have the time to write 40 odd longhand notes unlike last year.
I am considering pursuing a career as a nuclear terrorism risk analyst and consultant.
I am learning 175 French words, ten new English words, ten new German words, and 21 random facts this week.
I wish I had become a skeleton or luge racer. Oh well, there's always next year. And one of these years, I AM going to start throwing the hammer and playing the guitar.
So long for this week!

A Family Tree Adventure

Yesterday I got back from a trip to Ireland, the main objective of which was further family tree research. There were two clear highlights of the trip- being shown to the tomb of my third and fourth great grandfathers of the Madden line by PJ Madden of Ballycastle, County Mayo Ireland, and realizing that I have Madden cousins in Louisiana, North Carolina and Virginia!
My girlfriend Nolwenn and I flew to Dublin on Saturday, and then rented a car and drove four hours in the rain out to County Mayo. That part of Ireland has surely seen better days- before the potato famine about 500,000 people lived there- now there are only 110,000 or so. However, it does seem to be doing okay- most of the houses were in very good condition, and I did not get the feeling that I did in parts of the former East Germany that the area was on its way to becoming a series of ghosttowns. After a night at a lovely hotel, we drove into the Maddens' ancestral hometown of Ballycastle, where one cousin, PJ Madden, still lives. Unfortunately, neither I nor the people at the North Mayo Family History Center have been able to figure out how we are related, but it seems safe to say that in a town of about 220 people, we are somehow cousins. PJ and his wife and daughter were very kind to meet Nolwenn and me on five minutes' notice. We had tea with them for half an hour and then PJ showed us to the site of the Madden tomb in the abandoned churchyard of Doonfeeny Parish. The location is even more dramatic than I imagined it- rugged pastureland for sheep farming and peat bogs, that then drop off into the Atlantic off a 100 foot cliff about 100 yards from the gravesite. The grave itself was worn, but unlike all others, was a sort of tomb enclosed by an expensive iron fence from the 1800's. This was important, because I know that Daniel Madden, my 3rd great grandfather was a wealthy landowner, but there was another Daniel Madden in Ballycastle at that time as well, who was a poor laborer. It seems highly unlikely that the laborer would have ended up in such a final resting place, so the impressive gravesite is thus evidence for the identity of my 4th great grandparents, Daniel and Sarah Madden, who are buried in the same tomb. We then had the chance to visit the town of Belmullet, about an hour's drive away, where my great-great grandmother Mary Rose was from, and where she married Joseph Madden, my second great grandfather, and the grandfather of my grandfather George Madden, who as of last Friday is 90 years young! George Madden's father was James Madden, and his son and my father is Timothy Madden, to round out the Madden line of my ancestry.
This was all a coup, but perhaps even better was that PJ told me that other Madden cousins claiming descent from the same Daniel Maddens had visited the site this past summer. These other cousins were from Virginia, Louisiana, and North Carolina, and he had their contact information, which he passed onto me. I was unaware of these cousins, but will call them this evening, to try and find out just how they are related to me.
Monday was then spent in the National Library of Ireland in Dublin, where I combed through ancient records of Maddens, although unfortunately, I couldn't connect any of them to Daniel Madden or indeed any of the Maddens of Ballycastle. Still there was some interesting information there, and I will return to do one more day of further research in Dublin sometime next January or February.
Further updates of my genealogical quest to be included in early editions of Rhone Ramblings, come 2009.

The Little Merman & Food Matters

After posting last week's diatribe about how little there was to see in Bratislava, I received a biting rejoinder about how there was so much to do and visit in the Slovak capital (see comments under last week's entry). Granted, we hadn't brought a guidebook so I suppose with just a little more effort on our part, we could have had a far more enlightening experience in Bratislava. Still, I would recommend that the Bratislava authorities erect on the banks of the Danube a statue that would draw tourists from far and wide: The Little Merman.
Now I'm not sure what this would look like, but it seems only fair that if guys like me can fondle Copenhagen's famous Little Mermaid (which I did in fact in 2001 do) then women and gays should have a statue of their own. Again, I'll write to the Bratislava Tourism Authorities and see what happens.
Changing gears, I come to my final point for the week: now that the USA is cool in the wider world once again, why are all products horrible that have an American flag on them, or say "American-style" in Austria? Popcorn, white bread, chocolate chip cookies, whatever- it's all rotten. Given that the only other example of American food in Austria is McDonald's, I can see why Austrians think American food sucks. Please, it's not that bad, it's just that you are sadly missing out on all the good stuff (pulled-pork sandwiches, cheesecake, Cajun food, crab cakes, etc.)
In fact the only thing that's sorrier is the shape of Mexican food in Europe. You wouldn't think it's possible to screw up salsa, but then again you've never had the horrendous excuse for salsa that one gets over here. Looking forward to missing a Thanksgiving feast for the sixth consecutive year, sigh...

Bratislava: Seeking attractions

Know what the hardest job in Europe might be? Head of the Bratislava Tourism Authority. Most of the times I've been to Bratislava (the capital of Slovakia and a mere 40 miles from Vienna) lately have been for cheapo Ryanair flights that fly out of its airport. Ryanair actually advertises these flights as leaving from Bratislava (Vienna). Now, it's bad enough when, say sports teams who play in New Jersey insist on calling themselves the "New York Jets" or the slightly-more-geographically-correct-but- nevertheless-appalingly-stupid "New York-New Jersey Metrostars." But in Bratislava's case, Vienna is in another country all together. And what's more, Bratislava is a national capital of a European country with about 5 million people, which would technically mean that Bratislava should be about as famous as, say Copenhagen, which also is the capital of a European country with 5 million people.
Anyway, yesterday, Nolwenn (my girlfriend), two of her friends, and I set off for a day in Bratislava. We arrived in Bratislava at 2:30pm. Nolwenn had wanted to stay until 11 originally, but I convinced her in advance to take the 9pm bus back. In the end, we took the 7pm bus back, having, well, seen basically all that there was to see. Bratislava has a lovely, well-restored old city, but its main square is basically the same size as the main square in my hometown of Ridgewood. It also has really touristy restaurants with lousy waiters who serve garlic soup in breadbowls that have the constituency of iron and the most garlicky pesto I've ever had.
So, let's put our heads together and come up with some possible tourist attractions that Bratislava could use. Answers will be posted in this space next week.

Crowing around

If you're from northern New Jersey, or really most other places in the world, like, say Vienna for instance, chances are you share your living space with crows. True, they might not be the most beautiful of birds nor the most mellifluous, but they are keenly intelligent. For example, crows have been known to take nuts and put them on roads where cars are driving, so that the cars will drive over the nuts and thus open them for the crows to eat. It's not quite rocket science, but as animal intelligence goes, that's a lot higher than most species get.
In Europe there is one major crow species, sometimes called the Carrion Crow (although it, like most crows will eat just about anything- not just rotting meat). Interestingly the Carrion Crow comes in two major races, the western race, which is all black, and the eastern race (sometimes called the "Hooded Crow" although the two forms are conspecific) which is gray below. Their ranges barely overlap (crows usually don't migrate either), but Vienna, ornithologically as well as culturally, is right on the dividing line between eastern and western Europe.
Thus I had the opportunity yesterday to come across two crows, one western and one eastern on a Vienna street. At the time, I had just bought a chocolate muffin and became curious. Do crows have taste buds? Could they pick out the taste of a chocolate muffin? Would they enjoy it? Although I had never really thought about it, I would assume that all three questions can be answered with a yes. Clearly, my pet parakeets over the years have preferred certain foods to others, so one assumes that crows must too.
I would further assume that these two crows had never tasted a delicious chocolate muffin before, so I thought that I would bring some unexpected delight into their lives by feeding them. Probably not the healthiest thing to do, but they both sure enjoyed it.
And that got me thinking- if crows enjoy chocolate, maybe they enjoy other aspects of existence that we overlook. And maybe, though unable to speak or do higher mathematics or write a blog entry, maybe they and their animal kin should be treated with a lot more respect than we normally give them. This doesn't mean we should all become vegetarians- I'll explain why next week- but it does mean that when we think about how best to help the world out, maybe we ought to give the other tens of billions of birds, mammals, and other sentient beings (i.e. beings that can enjoy life, feel pain and even express certain emotions) their due. And maybe people (who rather selfishly and solipsistically often say that "man is the measure of all things") should recognize that on any reasonable moral grounds, the distinction between humans and animals is not as big as we think. Again, more on that next week.

The Dangers of Motorcycling

When I got my motorcycle license earlier in the year, numerous people told me that this was a very dangerous activity. I parried that by replying that so are skiing and ocean swimming, and that's never stopped me.
Nevertheless, I must confess that two nights ago, motorcycling put me in a rather dangerous position. I was about to take my girlfriend on her first ride ever, just a little bit around Vienna at night, but after we had walked the half mile or so to where my motorcycle was parked (on a side street), there were some twenty police officers there, and they told me both that I couldn't access my motorcycle and that we should run away as fast as possible.
Apparently, some crook was holed up in a parking garage whose entrance was next to my motorcycle, and he wasn't taking no for an answer. We didn't stick around to see how the altercation ended, but as we went away, I looked back and saw a policeman with his pistol drawn inside the garage. Finally, after we had turned the corner, three female police officers, all of whom seemed to be about 18, ran toward the back of the garage saying "Scheisse! Ich hoffe es gibt keinen Ausgang dahinter!" or "Shit! I hope there's no back exit!"
Which really inspired confidence in me for Vienna's finest. Moreover, though, what are the odds that of all the streets in Vienna, which is literally the safest city in the world with more than 1 million people, that there's a shootout on the block of the street where I parked. Bizarro, but I don't think anything can surprise me anymore after the hike, where it was one coincidence after another.
One final thought. I hate Kid Rock and his stupid song that's a complete rip off of Warren Zevon.

Al-Qaeda, Red Bull, and Random Acts of Kindness

Here’s a question for you: what do random acts of kindness, red bull, and al-Qaeda have in common? Not much perhaps, but they are all topics that I am keenly interested in, though for rather different reasons. So in this week’s blog entry, let’s start with the bad news first to get it out of the way before moving on to the humorous and the uplifting.
It has now been over seven years since al-Qaeda attacked the USA on September 11. To some extent, this is due to the facts that the al-Qaeda leadership has largely been killed or forced into hiding in the border regions of Pakistan and that some potential attacks have also been foiled by intelligence and law enforcement agencies. However, all this was also true four years ago, when bin Laden reared his ugly head and called on Americans to vote for Kerry. Well, I’m no conspiracy theorist, but I know that bin Laden had to have known in advance that this would make it more likely for Bush to win the election, which, of course, is what ended up happening. Why would bin Laden have wanted Kerry to win? Simple. The Bush Administration had so antagonized the rest of the world, especially Muslim countries. Unknowingly, with their bungled efforts, Bush was playing into bin Laden’s hands.
Likewise, McCain’s bellicose rhetoric and penchant for supporting military action without always considering the possible consequences, the fact that in a recent worldwide poll, residents of every country sampled favored Obama over McCain, and the fact that Obama cuts a far more sympathetic profile in the Muslim world in particular all make it more likely that al-Qaeda would prefer a McCain presidency. So, if al-Qaeda has any capability to attack the USA at all, it seems very likely that it would try and attack the USA directly or at least US interests abroad between now and election day in the hope that it helps McCain. While hesitant to put a probability on it, I would say that the chances of something happening over the next four weeks are at least 1 in 3.
After that disconcerting prediction, a little levity. Many in the states might not know this, but Red Bull is in part owned by and has its headquarters in Austria. So fine, it’s an Austrian drink. But it has an English name, which, when pronounced in German, sounds like Khrrret Bule. If I ask for one in my American accent, no one understands me. So I hef too speak wiss a Gehmun Excent eef I wan too gett a Khrrret Bule...
Finally, a random act of kindness was performed by yours truly together with his better half on Sunday. We gave out about 155 homemade cookies outside the main cathedral in Vienna for no other reason other than to make people smile. It was great to see their reactions, and was lots of fun to coordinate. I’ll keep doing this once a week or so, and update what sort of hijinx we get ourselves into. Any suggestions for future goodwill are of course welcome.

Something I don't understand

Is why in every airplane I've ever been in, including new ones, there is an ashtray in the bathroom. Really, this makes about as much sense as holding an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting at the local bar. Someone once gave me the rather lame answer that there needs to be a way for someone to put out a cigarette, just in case they happen to completely ignore all the warnings that "tampering with smoke detectors in an airplane lavatory is a federal offense."
And why do we use the word "lavatory" in this sense and this sense alone in contemporary English? Actually, the language is full of luscious and lugubrious words like lavatory that are woefully underutilized. How about bringing back the word emolument? One's emolument is one's collective wages and perquisities, or perks- although now the word in use here is usually "compensation." Now, I don't know about you, but I don't get "perky" when I hear the word compensation used to refer to both people egregiously affronted by a tort (or a torte if you don't like your repast at a Viennese coffeehouse) and people who have sold their labor for wages and perquisites.
Anyway, just something to chew over. I'm getting back into Carpe Diem mode this week, trying to hew to my perhaps overly ambitious schedule of learning 25 French words per day, and ten new English and German words a week. That doesn't sound like much, but I've also got about 25 other items on my weekly to-do list. Getting it all done is ambitious, perhaps, but if you know of a better way to bleib-im-Schwung, to harness the positive power of inertia, and increase personal efficacy in a way that leads to a superoptimal outcome in terms of both aggregated universal and personal utility, I'm all ears.
In other words, entelechy. The greatest word you haven't heard of. I'd tell you what it is, but better to look up the word on your own- entelechy is good stuff, and the closest I think one can come to summarizing the meaning of life in one word. More later.

Another splendid idea from the mind of one David C. Madden

I'm back in the states this weekend for a quick four days to tie up a number of loose ends. Meanwhile, as I was passing through customs at JFK yesterday, a thought occurred to me that I'd now like to share with all and sundry. More than one European friend of mine has remarked to me how unfriendly and unwelcoming the US Customs Service is. Seeing as though a customs official is usually the first American a foreigner will meet when she arrives in the USA (and we all know how important first impressions are) and that a customs official works for the government and therefore represents the country as a whole, it wouldn't hurt for customs officials to be more friendly. I know their job can hardly be described as the most exciting in the world, but they are nevertheless really hurting our national image. Foreigners are often already fed up with the fingerprinting, questioning, and visa regulations, so why not try and be a little bit more friendly by having customs officials learn how to say "Welcome to the United States" in ten different languages.
For this to work, they wouldn't even have to memorize ten short phrases. It would work just as well if customs officials had a phonetic transcription in front of them. For example, with German, they could have "Vill kom in in dee oo ess ahh." Then, next to the transcription they could have "Use with citizens of Germany and Austria" so that way Austrians would be greeted too. Since customs officials see everyone's passport, they could easily find what to say on the sheet. Even officials who don't have a knack for languages would thus probably memorize ten phrases and their respective countries within a week. The ten languages would have to both be spoken by an overwhelming majority of citizens from a particular country (thus they couldn't use German with Swiss citizens, unless they were trained to spot German names, since 30% of Swiss people don't speak German as a mother tongue) and be commonly found among citizens at a particular crossing. Obviously this would vary somewhat according to region. At JFK, to give just one example, I would recommend the following ten languages be used (in no particular order): 1. German, 2. French, 3. Italian, 4. Portuguese, 5. Spanish, 6. Arabic, 7. Russian, 8. Chinese, 9. Japanese, 10. Korean. Those ten languages certainly account for well over half the people passing through customs.
Like the idea or have a way to make it even better? Post a comment, then. Within a week or two, I'll then sit down and write a letter to a number of different customs postings, along with a proposed table of languages, countries, and phonetic pronunciations. If I get any feedback, I'll dispatch it in this space. To be continued...

Czeching out the neighbors

Last weekend my girlfriend and I decided rather spur of the moment to go to Prague. One of my favorite things about Europe for years has been the ability to decide on a whim to go to a foreign capital for a quick getaway. So this weekend, we went to the Czech Republic.
Last year, Slovenia became the first Eastern European (i.e. ex-communist) country to surpass a Western European country (in this case, Portugal) in terms of per-capita income. Suffice it to say that the Czech Republic is well on its way to following Slovenia on that route. Every time I have visited Prague, it looks just a little bit cleaner, with fewer communist buildings around, and more buildings that would be right at home in Vienna.
That has its pluses and minuses. One of the nice things about going to Prague has been that it's, well, not Vienna. It's cheaper, not as staid, and in more ways than one, Bohemian. Now, with prices having risen by leaps and bounds over the past ten years, Prague is no longer cheap, nor off the beaten path. For those looking for the Prague of old, I suggest Bratislava, or perhaps Warsaw as two other Eastern European capitals that are still quite cheap, far from touristy, and have plenty to offer. Indeed, a trip to Bratislava with my girlfriend on my motorcycle (once I feel confident after lots more practice- for those parent-sorts out there who read this)
is in the cards, as are trips to Ireland, Scotland, Italy, and a few other places too. The rolling stone keeps on rolling...

A Favorite Place

One of my favorite places in Vienna isn't a famous landmark or a fancy coffeehouse or a sophisticated cocktail bar but rather a simple underground gym that I have been going to about 3 times a week since coming to Austria back in March. Earlier this year I started getting a little bit frustrated that certain aspects of my life were lacking in any notable progress. One of these was my physical fitness. Sure, you might think that having just hiked the length of the United States I would be in great shape, but in fact, I lost a good deal of upper body strength over those seven months when my legs were doing all the work.
Well, all that upper-body strength is now back and then some. It's a great feeling to be able to say that I've never been in better physical shape, but this is true. Over the last six months, I've gone about my fitness very systematically, rarely missing visits to the gym, taking vitamins and necessary supplements, and the results are quite noticable- both for me and my new girlfriend.
Okay, enough tooting my own horn- the point is that I think everyone would feel great if they could overcome a limit in any activity in life through sheer determination and hard work. And over time, with noticable positive results, it gets easier as one feels good about it and makes continued effort part of one's routine. Now that I've done this with physical fitness, in addition to my continued workouts, I'll start going systematic on learning French (I'm going to aim for 30 words a day to start, possibly increasing that over time) and feeling better mentally (I've been going through some ups and downs late, but there's so much out there I can still do that I haven't begun to try yet).
And onward to greater success!

A Minor Miracle

Picture this: one hundred thirty teenagers, aged 15-18, from all over the world. From Greenland, New Zealand, Honduras, Hong Kong, Italy, the USA, the Faroe Islands, etc. all gathered at an agriculturally-oriented boarding school in the middle of rural Upper Austria for a week's introduction to Austrian culture, the German language, and each other.
It's a gathering like no other you can imagine- no drugs, no alcohol, but lots of singing, dancing, being silly, being young, having fun, and recognizing that people from countries you've barely heard of can become close friends within a few hours. I had the opportunity to spend this past week as one of the counselors at the AFS Austria arrival camp and it was a great time as one would expect.
For those who don't know, I myself was an AFS exchange student in Austria, starting ten years ago this month (gulp). Although I only stayed six months in contrast with most students who spend a whole year, it was truly one of the defining times of my life. It gave me fluency in German, the feeling of being at home in the world, my first girlfriend, two of my best friends to this day, and lots of great memories.
AFS, which formerly stood for "American Field Service" but now is just an acronym, was started by former ambulance volunteers of the two world wars who wanted to found an organization to help prevent another war. So the ambulance volunteers decided to set up the world's largest, oldest, and most respected student exchange program, which now has programs in about forty countries and is expanding its offerings in Africa, the Middle East, India, and China.
True to its volunteer origins, AFS is one of the world's largest organizations that works largely on a volunteer basis. Some 10,000 volunteers or so help provide support for the students, organize arrival, mid-stay, and departure camps, and do all sorts of other jobs. I've never been to an AFS meeting or camp where I didn't have a great time- the energy of the kids and volunteers is palpable and contagious. Feeling this energy led me to do things such as the Swedish frog dance, introduce a guy from Greenland to the pasttime of playing catch, yell out "Yeah Polka!", and participate in all sorts of "energizers" which basically involve acting like an idiot while having a great time.
Bottom line: if you're a cynic, if you're looking to renew your faith in humanity, if you want to see a minor miracle in action, become a part of AFS- volunteer, host a student, or if you're in your teens, consider taking part yourself. You and the world will never be the same.

The Olympics in Austria

I'll preface this post by saying that I haven't watched a minute of NBC's Olympics coverage, I've heard the ratings have been great, and that in contrast with previous games, much more additional coverage is available online. Still, having grown up watching numerous Olympics in the USA, I'm pretty sure how the deal works- for every minute of actual sports, there's a minute of human interest stories and a minute of commercials. To some extent, this can only be expected. Not too many Americans, myself included spend more than three seconds following synchronized diving, competitive archery, and equestrian (to name just three sports) in the four years between Olympics. So a little bit of introduction may well be in order.
In Austria (and Germany, and Greece too) however, the emphasis is clearly on the sports themselves. In smaller countries, people tend to be more familiar with their Olympians, even if their success pales in comparison to certain American athletes. To wit, the Austrian swimmer Markus Rogan, who had a disappointing games and failed to win a gold, was an A list star in Austria coming into Beijing. Michael Phelps, on the other hand, though now being compared to the likes of Tiger Woods, Secretariat, and Babe Ruth (and rightfully so) was hardly a household name in the USA, despite having won 8 medals, six of them gold in Athens.
There's no right or wrong here- it may very well be that the approach that the European countries take in broadcasting the Olympics is what Europeans like best, while Americans need a little background info. And to be fair, with four major sports leagues compared to just one in most European countries, this is only to be expected. Still, however, it's sometimes nice just to sit back, relax, and enjoy the water polo or fencing- no human interest stories, few commercials, and a minimum of commentary. Pure Olympic sport is beautiful and worth watching in its own right, even without Bob Costas.

Two excellent decisions

To this day, I maintain that one of the best decisions I ever made was made when I was six. That was approximately the age when I decided I would be an exchange student when the time came. Since my mother had been an exchange student in Brazil and had kept up with her family, I was already a little bit indoctrinated. However, it was really something I was always convinced of, and never did I ever really doubt that it was something I wanted to do.
And so, during first semester of senior year of high school, when everyone was stressing out over getting into college and AP courses and all that, I left it all behind and set off for Vienna, and life has never been the same since. Mostly, for the better. I had the privilege of going abroad with AFS, the world's finest exchange student organization, due largely to its lengthy history and worldwide volunteer network. While there were plenty of challenging times while overseas, it was all worth it in the end, as I came back much more mature, fluent in German, and with more than twice as many friends as I had had before.
So, that was the first excellent decision. The second has been to return to Vienna and Europe ten years after. Living over here allows me to pursue life and my dreams at my own, sometimes sclerotic, sometimes manic pace. I have more freedom living here than I ever could in New York, including not only freedom from the rat race, but freedom from being judged by guys and girls- which is an inevitable facet of living in most places in the USA, and especially New York. And also, I have the freedom to do things like start a doctoral study for free, travel to foreign countries about once a week, and the freedom to go to awesome Europe-wide AFS conferences, like the one I attended in France this past week. Certainly the most fun I've had in months- just a terrific bunch of friendly AFS volunteers from all over Europe (and some from the Americas, Africa, and Asia too) and a great chance to network. I made some great connections about my dream of reviving AFS in Morocco. Clearly I could never do it by myself, but with a bunch of friendly, motivated AFS volunteers and staff to help out, why not? And that would not only be fun and a great experience, but would also help out in reaching out to an Arab country that the USA and Europe could certainly use better relations with. Stay tuned.

Fun on trains

One of the few redeeming aspects of the recent spike in oil prices is that it might finally force a critical mass of Americans off of the road and onto the rails. I have been an avid train fan since I was 5 years old, and I still get a huge kick out of traveling by train. Currently I am in a brand new, state of the art sleeping compartment that I have all to myself on an overnight train trip from Vienna to Rijeka, a city in northern Croatia. Even though Croatia isn’t even in the European Union and was engaged in a horrible war until about 1995, this is a nicer sleeper car than you would find anywhere in the USA.
Another thing I have often enjoyed about train travel in Europe is that on some trains, you can pull the window down and stick your head out, like a golden retriever in a car. Now of course there are signs on the window saying you shouldn’t do this, and I’ve heard of at least one person being killed this way, but who cares- it’s one of the greatest feelings of freedom in the world to do this. Generally speaking, if you want to lean out a window on the right side of the train, you should wait until the track curves to the right somewhat (and the reverse is true for the left side). This way you can see what obstacles could be in your way (e.g. trains in the other direction, trees, poles, etc.). Then, once your head is out the window, you can typically see obstacles in advance even when the train is going straight ahead or curving to the left a little bit.
Americans might find it odd that this is still possible in 21st century Europe, since the legal risks this pasttime presents meant that it would be impossible to even contemplate being able to do this in the USA. But while Europe (and especially Austria) can be overly bureaucratic, it tends not to be overly legalistic, like the USA. So you can still get away with sticking your head out the window and letting your cares fly by.

I'm such a rebel

Another small difference between Austria (and Germany, and most of Northern Europe aside from Britain and Russia) and the USA: jaywalking. Hailing from the New York metro area, I take it as my inalienable right to cross a street on my own terms, and not when some red light or flashing orange hand says so. Obviously, I don't walk out into oncoming traffic, and indeed, I make certain to look both ways. But then, if the coast is clear, I saunter off across the street, leaving a host of bewildered onlookers behind me.
Then (and this is the hilarious part) almost every time that I cross a street when the light is red, somebody who had been waiting patiently suddenly gets up enough nerve to cross the street a second or two after me. Certainly I have thus incurred the wrath of scores of parents of 3-6 year old children who tell their children that what I am doing is on a par with armed robbery. But I prefer to think that by jaywalking, I've helped introduce a little bit more freedom into a society that could use a little less classical music and philosophy and a little bit more cheekiness, every now and then.
Also, I had mentioned last time that I would write a little bit about my birding trip to Hungary from last week with my friend Jeff. We had great looks at Great Bustard (the world's heaviest flying bird) Red-Footed Falcon (with young!), Hoopoe, and Grey Partridge. That's probably all the birding for this summer, but lots of family tree research and an AFS conference in France are on the table for the upcoming weeks.

Something You Don't See Everyday

Is an SL Mercedes AMG series (in other words, one damn fine automobile) being lifted into the air by towing cables. Even weirder, here in Vienna, this car had California plates on it, and was illegally parked outside the Iraqi Embassy of all places. Go figure that one out.
Which brings me back to more funny German words and phrases. One sign (that a certain driver failed to heed) that is found often in German speaking countries contains the phrase "widerrechtlich abgestellte Fahrzeuge werden kostenpflichtig abgeschleppt!" which translates into the rather more humdrum "illegally parked cars will be towed" Somehow I'm more afraid of the German phrase. Indeed, I had my first crack at driving in Vienna over the past few days while picking up and dropping off a rental car that I put over 700 miles on in three days while birding with my friend Jeff in Austria, Hungary, and Slovakia. More on that trip in a post this upcoming weekend (I missed last week, so there are two dispatches this week).
Anyway, driving in Vienna is a nightmare. There's a red light every hundred yards, lots of small, narrow, one way streets that were decidedly never meant to be used by cars, heavy traffic, and gas prices of $8 a gallon or more. In other words, take the train. That having been said, though, most Europeans are very good drivers. Highway death rates are considerably lower in most of Western Europe than in the USA, and yet people drive much faster (in Germany of course there's often no speed limit on highways and in most other countries its 130km or 80mph.)
Part of this has to do with the fact that getting a license requires more training, part of this is due to most people driving stick since driving automatic requires less attention, and part is due to stricter drunk driving laws. In any event, it proves my argument (which strangely has never been a hit with the cops in the US) that speed and safety on highways are poorly correlated. Let people drive 80 miles an hour in the USA. Or try it yourself. You will quickly realize that you are forced to pay more attention than at 65. Anyways, I'm glad to be back to taking the subway most everywhere I need, so enough on driving for now.

Live and Learn

Today I was back out on my racing bike going for a nice evening training ride in the scenic wine country south of Vienna. So far, so idyllic. When suddenly my ride seemed a little bumpy, and much to my chagrin, I had a flat tire. And no repair tools. And no cell phone. And no money. Oops.
Fortunately, I was only about a mile away from a nearby train station, so I was able to walk the bike there. And even more fortunately, I was able to catch a train back to the district of Vienna in which I am living within about twenty minutes. And best of all, there was no conductor on board, thus I managed yet another one of my patented close escapes.
Tomorrow, however, I will go to the repair shop and learn how to fix a flat and figure out a way to attach the necessary tools to my bike. It's not quite the same as the rest of the grueling training that I'm putting myself through in a frantic effort to get to the point where I can finish an Ironman Triathlon within the allotted time. But it very well may be the most important thing I can do in order to assure that I finish.
In a related story, a couple of my muscles that I use in running have been giving me a hard time lately, so I've decided to hold off on any more run training until the end of July. But having done a few marathons, and knowing that if it comes to it I can walk a bit during the last leg of the Ironman, the run is the least of my concerns. Swimming is a bit more of a concern, but I'll take a few lessons within the month, and the weather here (not to mention the numerous topless sunbathing Fräuleins) is incentive enough to get to the pool on a regular basis.
Which leaves the bike. Hours and hours and hours on the bike between now and early September. But once I move into my new apartment within a week or two, I'll get a TV and an exercise bike, and training will become much more user friendly.
And in the meantime, I keep on doing my upper body training at the gym on a regular basis. All in all, I'm in the best physical shape of my life and it promises only to get better. Which is always nice to be able to say.

Home again, home again

Readers who followed my hike of the USA will recall that the oddest thing to happen to me over those seven months (and that's saying something, given the number of wacky adventures I had) was that my hair turned blonde due to being outside in the sun for about ten hours a day or so. What might be even weirder, though, is that by now, any hair that was exposed to the sun during my hike has certainly been guillotiened by my barber, but lo and behold, I'm still blonder than I am before the hike even though I haven't been spending any more time than usual outside over the last few months. Um, any theories here folks?
To perpetuate a dumb stereotype, I even had a blonde moment during my trip to France last week. At some point my credit card went completely AWOL and I have no clue how, where, or why. That marred what was otherwise a great, if at times grueling trip from Vienna to Germany, Switzerland, and France, which included a highly successful birding trip to Provence and the Camargue in France with my friend Jeff. I saw 13 new species including long sought-after European specialties such as European Roller and European Bee-Eater, not to mention the symbol of the Camargue, the Greater Flamingo. Heading there and back, I managed to see other friends in Strasbourg and Geneva, work in two productive business meetings in Switzerland, and conduct some genealogy research in the Black Forest in Germany.
All in all, a great trip, but as I was either driving or on trains for an average of 7 hours a day, each day, I am very glad to be back in Vienna. Not that this is an oasis of serenity by any means, though. A severe thunderstorm that passed through town last evening caused a mandatory evacuation of the outdoor screening area where 70,000 people were watching Germany's exciting 3-2 victory over Turkey in the semifinals of the European Soccer Championships. Also, even though the game was played in Switzerland, the worldwide TV transmission for the game was coordinated out of Vienna, and that was knocked out by the storm during the second half just before the deciding goals were scored. Oops.
Next up for the Danube Dispatcher: making headway on the outline for the book on my family's history, lots of triathlon training, and finally getting into the apartment that I bought two months ago, hopefully within two weeks time.