Graz: the great experiment
Maybe reducing the variables would be a good thing
The kitchen was a science experiment. Bottles lay filled with bacterial colonies against the wall. Calcium had caked the bottom of the boiler. When you used it, it was as if you were performing a magic trip: boiling ice without melting it. The sink was a small pond. Prime real estate for the bacteria next to it. The other side of the sink had its own bacterial flair—a desert of grease, food, and water congealed together to terraform the next moves of the microbial hoard.
The experiment seemed somewhat uncontrolled. I didn’t know what results the scientist was trying to obtain, nor the variables of interest. Instead, it appeared abandoned, like the lab had lost funding, and no one wanted to clean up the failed experiment.
Unlike a lab, the surrounding surfaces were anything but sterile. Food from missed mouths and pours were strewn across the counter and floors. The shelf in the closet had no supplies, only more experiments. More mold finds its mold between the proteins and carbs of the food stashed there. To be left for measurement that never came. The top of the shelf housed stacks of newspapers, our apartment contract, and bundles of wires. The food was squished together, with no boundaries demarcating who had what. Propped on the shelf were a mop and a vacuum. The symptoms of disuse plagued their surface. Mop heads were in a cardboard box, but they were too small for the mop. Cardboard bags caked the floor of that small room. Along with recycling that was challenging for experiment of the year.
Outside of our cupboard, the tiled floors gave way to chipped paint, onion clippings, and everyday dust. Hardly much of a controlled environment. The lab had lost its funding for its janitor first. It took a hard hit, and it doesn’t seem like there will be any funding for it anytime soon. I had to fund it myself.
The experience of moving into the apartment was like no other before. When I moved in, I could already tell that it had been lived in. The shower water wouldn’t drain and the sink was covered with stains I hadn’t seen before. A TV was by the entrance at the beginning of the year, and it hasn’t left since. I’m not sure who it belongs to, but it seems like it belongs to no one.
My room is nice. It’s extremely long and quite wide, the walls ornamented with white paint. I still haven’t done any decoration, besides the IKEA lamps and comforters that I bought. As I arrived in Austria, I had come fresh from reading a book about Wittgenstein, the famous Austrian philosopher. He lived a bare lifestyle. After writing his magnum opus in Cambridge, England, he disappeared into the woods of Lower Austria, to teach school children. His book was so popular that academics from Cambridge and Vienna would make treks out there to understand the cagey statements in his book. When they got there, they discovered a man living with almost nothing. He had a chair and a bed. I don’t think he even had a desk. He was trying to live a simple life. Part of me thought I could copy him. But such minimalism has made my walls seem so bland. The warm lights above lose their yellow tint as the light hits the bare white walls.
My room is still undecorated, besides the books on my bed and in the shelf overhead, there is no sign that this is anything other than a halfway room. My suitcase is right next to the door, ready to pack up and go. The single window next to the bed beckons me to sleep. It tells me what sweet dreams and relaxation I’ll have if I take a nap and stay in bed. It’s a cozy place, that bed, but it holds its own dangers.
I’ve spent quite a bit of time in bed these last few weeks. Its so easy to stay there when you’re sick. Its also easy to stay there when you have a nap after work and then don’t want to get up for the rest of the day. I tell myself “When I get home, I’ll start reading that book that I’ve been wanting to read for a long time”. Alas, it happens rarely. I get into bed and watch some Netflix, only to exit whenl I go to the gym later in the night. That’s not to say that I don’t go out.
Away from the experiments and the cozy bed, I’ve met a bunch of people. My weekly schedule is already almost full. On Wednesdays, I have Stammtisch with my another USTA named Onyx, my friend Lena, and my friend Elise. I met them one night at an Erasmus student meetup. For those who don’t know, Erasmus is an exchange program for european students.
At the event, you could go from a conversation about the portuguese language to a conversation about the politics of the north south divide in Italy. You can move in between cigarette-touting students asking the same opening questions every time: “What’s your name? Where are you from? What do you study?”. Most Erasmus students are eager to meet new people. Just the right people for me. The TAs that I had come with earlier in the night were talking to a tall guy and a comparatively average-height woman. I decided to go up and ask the regular questions. I told the tall guy, Theo, that I was teaching English at BG Rein, my picturesque school amongst a pastoral landscape. “My dad teaches English at BG Rein!” he told me with a grin from cheek to cheek. “Do you know Ulrich Pichler?”. I pulled out my phone and showed him the text I had just gotten from his dad about A stammtisch the teachers had that day. We had a great laugh about this and we went to another bar. “We should have a Stammtisch!” he said later that night. Thus was the Stammtisch born. Since I’ve been here, I’ve spent most of my nights out with Erasmus students.
On Thursdays, I go to trivia at 2 Brothers pub, the same pub that hosted the Erasmus event. It’s THE bar for international events I suppose, but then again, what Irish bar isn’t. In the solace of the den that is the bar, I can find solutions to questions like “How many goals have been scored in the Austrian Bundesliga?” or “What are the colors of Azerbaijan’s flag”. Don’t ask me the answer. I’ve realized on not good with obscure general knowledge. I’m better at specialized knowledge.
On the weekends, I’ve been trying to stay in Graz. For the first couple weekends, the luster of Linz drew me in. It was nice to see old friends, but that is a story for another time.
Amongst the countless hangouts and naps, I have carved out a life here in Graz. That’s not to say that it can’t be improved. This post is an attempt at reflecting on my home here after a month. Inside and outside. It’s all one great experiment, but I’d like to reduce the variables inside my house and experiment more freely outside of the house. Commence the cleaning!
(left to right) Lena, German Erasmus student, Elise, French TA at BG Rein, and Onyx, my roommate and fellow American TA.