Reflections of years past and the slopes of greatness (skiing)

prompted by a point of convergence

A student told me about an American Skier today. Her name I forget, but it struck me. I didn’t know her. The girl had asked me how long I had been in Austria for, and how it was crazy that I didn’t know the skiing scene at all, despite having been in Austria. I told her I wasn’t really all that into skiing, but it got me thinking. I really haven’t integrated a ton into Austria.

Part of it is having been in Vienna last year. You go to Vienna and the last thing you hear is German. The district that I lived in last year, Favoriten, is widely considered to be the immigrant district of Vienna. When I walked into the streets I would hear Turkish, Serbian, Croatian, and Bosnian (the last 3 are pretty much the same language). The Bosnian-Serbo-Croatian was highlighted to me by a friend who visited me last year. She was a German with Bosnian roots. I didn’t ask her, but I assumed that her parents fled Bosnia during the Yugoslavian war. Many of my students were in the same predicament. Not quite Austrian, identifying with their parent’s homeland rather than the one they grew up in. Yesterday, a friend told me, in the presence of his Serbian girlfriend, that Vienna was the last city where the myriad ethnic groups that made up Yugoslavia all coexist in peace. I’m not sure how much I believe that but it’s quite plausible.

Anyway, I wasn’t even in former Yugoslavia last year. The people that existed in my neighborhood were predominantly from the former Ottoman Empire. The Ottoman Empire was not only Türkiye, it stretched throughout the Balkans at its peak. It behooves me to say that Croatia may not belong to this list, as the Ottomans were never able to take Croatia’s famous coast. It’s interesting to think about it now, but yeah, if the shadow of history is stretched far enough, many of the people were formally part of the Ottoman Empire.

I loved my time in Vienna. I loved the massive imposing buildings, the maze of houses and apartments and shops lining the streets. I loved my apartment. I loved my room, its size, its interesting decor, the lofted bed, and the leopard-spotted blanket that I described to my German professor as 70s pornoesque. I loved the surroundings. I was so close to a park with a lake in the middle of it. I would often go there to read, to run, or just walk through it to think. Granted, as I left my little street, the streets became less crowded with families and more crowded with danger. My roommates described the main square/Platz in Favoriten, Reumannplatz, as a place where a lot of people don’t look like they have legal jobs. Outside the underground, people would be selling perfumes and AirPods for much below market price. There was always the odd knifing there. It was a place that didn’t feel safe at night. It was nothing compared to downtown Seattle at night, but for Austria, it was the danger zone. The neighborhood even has a reputation amongst my students in Graz. Even my students in the countryside know about the neighborhood.

All this is to say that my first year in Austria was not necessarily spent with students who were traditionally Austrian. My students now have skiing flowing in their blood, synchronized with their movements along the slopes. Currently, some of my teachers are on Ski Week. A week for the 3rd class (13 year-olds) where they ski for a week at one of the various ski resorts in Austria. The students at my previous schools had something similar, but I don’t think they picked up skiing religiously after it. When I asked students of the 2nd class (12-year-olds) whether they skied during the semester break this year, almost all of them raised their hands. Skiing was never as big a part of my life away from the slopes as it is this year. Last year, there were seldom any skiers in my classes. The topics of conversation were more geared toward the students visiting their homes i.e. Türkiye, Bosnia, Croatia.

This year, I’ve been much more Austrian. I’ve become infatuated with Leberkäse. A spam-like substance that you eat on a bun. If I were to describe it in the most appetizing fashion for Americans, I would say it’s like a square hot dog that you can fill with some goodies. There’s cheese Leberkäse, there’s Garlic Leberkäse, there’s even Horse Leberkäse. I’ve met many more Austrians here as opposed to Vienna. And with it, I’ve learned a few words that are part of the Austrian vernacular. There are words like Lieberl which means T-shirt. The diminutive in German is a -chen at the end of a word. For the Austrians, the use -erl. I’ve heard much more dialect spoken here as well.

But I go back to Vienna sometimes and I miss the city. I miss the metropolis that one can get lost in. I miss my friends. I miss taking the bus to a random place and coming upon a grand church. I love turning a corner and seeing one of the grandest buildings you’ll ever see. I miss all of these things, but most of all, I miss the people. The city feels happening. It feels like thousands from all over the world go to Vienna to work and set up a new life. Heck, my roommates last year were prime examples. They had moved from Turkmenistan at a relatively young age (something like 18). They had studied all over Europe and had even worked in the US, and they chose Vienna.

In short, I have had a much more Austrian experience here in Graz. I understand the culture a little bit better. I understand what makes people tick, what the cultural icons are, what the food is. I’m happy that I switched from Vienna to Graz, but sometimes I miss my life last year. I miss the city. I miss the nice teachers who would invite me into their homes during Ramadan. But alas, time moves on at an ever-marching pace. Nothing can stop it.

Before I sign off, I would like to acknowledge the protests that are going on in Serbia. The government cut corners when making a train station in Novi Sad which resulted in 16 people dying. There are protests across the nation. Students of the universities are blocking entrances to schools. Lawyers are joining in on the protests, with some of them refusing to work. Farmers are also joining in. I’m surprised that it isn’t being covered as heavily as some other news in Europe and so I’m going to leave a link to a BBC article here, if you’re curious. Serbia's largest-ever rally sees 325,000 protest against government

finally to prove that I have integrated somewhat, I present to you my Tracht (traditional Austrian dress). The Lederhosen I wanted to get did not fit me in the slightest, but I love the suit top. I’m considering wearing it regularly.