New Blog!

Dear All,

I've closed any further posting to my Austrian blog.  Instead, you'll be pleased to know about my new blog I recently installed.  It details my current life as a graduate student in Berlin:

http://brown-in-berlin.blogspot.com/

Thanks for all your reading!
-SB

Konzert in the Kaisersaal

Eine Verwöhnung für die Klassikgenießer!

For those that yearn for the memorable, intimate concert experience, I've discovered quite the treat!

The "Stiftskonzerte," a concert series organized by ORF in Upper Austria to feature the province's most treasured abbeys and cloisters, opened its season last month.  Last weekend, I had the pleasure of getting in one of the series' concerts at the Kremsmünster Abbey.

Wiki article on the town and abbey:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kremsm%C3%BCnster

A wind quintet performed works by Beethoven, Schubert, Ligeti and, my favorite, Poulenc.  The quintet, "Ensemble Wien-Berlin," features players from the renouned Vienna and Berlin Philharmonic Orchestras.  More details on their repetoire are listed on the concert series program:
http://www.stiftskonzerte.at/Media/Programme/Programm_11.pdf

The hall, known as the Kaisersaal, or the "emperor's hall," complemented the music that evening.

For panoramic views of the hall and its Rococo walls: http://www.stift-kremsmuenster.at/index.php?id=1110

Travels through Tamsweg, Murau, Vienna, and Eisenstadt...plus my 25th!

I've recently returned from a long trip through various regions in Austria.

Once I get settled, I'll be able to tell you more about the trip.  In the meantime, enjoy the photos!

https://picasaweb.google.com/spbrown2009/My25thTripsToSalzburglandStyriaViennaAndBurgenland?authkey=Gv1sRgCPnz0LfvhNj0OA&feat=directlink

-Stephen

Alpine Pilgrimage

At 6:30am last Thursday, June 2nd, I boarded a tram with a group of twenty students from the local Catholic youth ministry in Linz.  We were headed for the city train station, where would travel with a regional train headed for the towns of Selzthal, and then eventually Trieben, a small town in northern Styria.  From there, our group left the station, crossed the small main street, and then began our hike into the Trieben river valley.

This was not just a hike, but more meaningful to our spirituality and faith.  It was a pilgrimage, with prayer, liturgy and hymns, as well as a common goal - The Benedictan abbey in Seckau.  Just like a hike, we were dressed for the journey - toting heavy gear and wearing sturdy boots featuring thick tread to support our step.  We went by line or by pairs, some talking while others remained silent.  Unlike a hike, we were all pilgrams, set out on a path to uncover and deal with obstacles along the way.  Faith was central, and I witnessed this on numerous occasions, including when we first left the station.

Leaving the station, we went into the town's small provincial church for a prayer circle.  We listened to a popular biblical verse, "The Parable of the Talents" (Matthew 25:14-28).  The verse places a methaphor forward that shows us to respect the abilities and talents we were born with, and to use all the talents we have been blessed with - not only the ones we're especially good at.


We left the church and headed into the Trieben valley ("Hinteres Triebenthal" in German), which parallels uncomfortably close to a county motorway.  The mountain side, which had been originally dynamited to give way to the road, contained an assortment of marble and rock that my Geology professor at Wooster would've been elated!  Among these were sandstones, granite, red and white marble, more granite, and quartz.


After two hours, we entered a clearing which opened to another valley.  The road changed to asphalt and led us straight to the doorsteps of our inn, Gasthof Braun, set on a farm and surrounded by very green, pine tree mountains.  The group unpacked, and then split into two halves, with the first heading for a swimming hole down the road.  Those left over, me included, stayed behind at the inn, settled in our rooms to freshen up, and then set out to explore on our own.  I ventured with two great people, Francesco and Maria, up an inlet surrounded by cascading hillsides.  Our loop was short, at just an hour, but it offered us a great look out point for pictures.  Once we came back down, and after the rest of the group returned from their dip in a frigid lake, we enjoyed a hefty, Styrian dinner that featured a regional specialty: mixed salad with pumpkin seed oil.

Our real hike began the next day.  We awoke at seven o'clock, dressed and breakfasted.  Each of us were determined by our goal - to not just ascend a 2000m-high mountain, but also to complete the vital mountain pass, which would send us into the next valley.  We began ascending the mountain, facing steep grades and paths so flooded we mistook them for creeks (photos).  Weather conditions changed sporadically, changing between mist and rain; but after just a few hours, we caught sight of the summit.  Continuing further, passed rock piles and snow mounds, we reached the peak and took in the view.  Into the distance, we could see mountain chains etched out across the horizon.

Gaal Mountain: From the summit, 2000m.

We rested and then slowly descended one-hundred meters to reach a wide plateau which housed an alpine lake known as the Krugsee.  Some of the backpackers stripped and bathed in the frigid waters, while I stayed ashore, captivated by the towering mountains that surrounded our tranquil lake (take a look).

Once refreshed and well-nourished, we began descending - only to be met with an unexpected thunderstorm, and still at 2000m!  We hurriedly reached level ground once more and sought shelter from the downpour which followed.  Calm once more, we found an asphalt county road and stayed on it until we reached our lodge for that evening.

Just a little steep.

At the lodge, we were warmly greeted.  This was no typical hiker's lodge, at least for this American.  Unique would better describe my reaction to a two-story house, completely built of wood, with interior AND exterior walls covered, from floor to ceiling, in only the folksiest of folk art, nic-nacs, wood carvings, and, of course, antlers - a herd's worth of them!  Had Buffalo Bill waltzed in the door, he would have made it home.  Needless to say we were well taken care of there - the family who ran the lodge, the Mühlthaler family, was as much attending to their guests as they were to their interior design.

Crows from a rooster woke me at 5am the next morning.  We hung around the lodge until later that morning, in order to spiritually prepare ourselves for the day - we would reach the abbey that afternoon.

More on that day and the abbey to come...

Renewed Vigor

Despite having only had a wink of sleep on the final night of my seminar, I still admit to having an outstanding time.  Fulbright held a seminar last week in Altenmarkt (photo on right) on American studies, which they advertised as being a chance for American and Austrian grantees and Fulbright professors at Austrian universities to meet together and exchange their experiences.  I had the opportunity to hear professors give lectures on their broad research topics, including whether Transatlantic relations are still hanging together, how former US presidents were educated, as well as how tax reform in the US is divided.  In retrospect, I gained most from meeting Austrian students who will be heading for the US next year to complete a degree on Fulbright grant money.  Admittedly, I experienced slight envy towards the students heading to Columbia for a tuition-free Master's in diplomacy and economics; however, we did share a lot in common and promised to visit each other next year.

Recently, I received word from Berlin that my application to study at Humboldt was declined.  Difficult as that may be, the admissions office was kind enough to show that I was close in the picking - making the top 15% before the cut.  Doors open when others close, as they say, and I have a strong sense from last week's seminar that there are many options besides Berlin.  Maybe I should take my search for grad schools closer to home, and maybe listen in for the bells at St. Stephan's.

After the run

Six o'clock in the morning, I jumped out of bed, awoken by my cell phone alarm, which I'd set the previous night.  After my routine stretches, calisthenics, and now even wake-up yoga, I dressed, limited myself to a small breakfast, and then left my flat.  I entered onto the nearby street, which was bizarrely cleared of any traffic or people.  Taking advantage of this, I shifted to walking on line dividing both sides of the road - something I loved to do as a kid.  Walking further, I heard a thundering noise, and looked up to watch two helicopters sweeping the skies, preparing for their aerial coverage of the city marathon, in which I would be running.

As I headed for the starting line, on a highway bridge known as the VOEST-Brücke, more and more people turned up, each with runner's numbers pinned to their outer clothing.  What began with a few people soon turned to dozens, and then, closing in on the bridge, I soon found myself in line with hundreds of others heading the same direction.  Parents with children, students, older couples and senior citizens were scattered around the banks of the river, finding places to stretch and warm up.  I entered onto the bridge and faced a mass of sportly-clad participants, easily five thousand.  They were divided into three running groups - the full, half, and quarter.  Having originally planned to meet up with friends I'd hoped to bump into at the race, I quickly realized this would be impossible, so I headed to my section a bit disappointed.  I found myself surrounded by, or rather, packed into a mass of complete strangers.

However, side-by-side with strangers, I quickly opened up and began talking to those around me.  On my right were two younger runners.  Like me, they were both decked out in casual athletic gear, but with their added touch of aviator sunglasses. One was still in school, finishing her fourth year at a HBLA, and her running partner was her neighbor from home who wanted to come along.

As cliché sports songs from the 1980's blared from the shabby speaker system on the nearby stage, I began to zone out, only to be abruptly cut off by the poignant starting shot.  We - the mass of a thousand runners and I - slowly began lurching forward, bumping up against each other before the street broadened out.  As soon as it became more comfortable to run full stride, I soon became a lazy salmon swimming upstream, and being passed by and by like a grandma driving on a highway.

One unexpected advantage of participating in the marathon was that I obtained a refreshingly new perspective about the city.  Running on streets that are plagued daily by heavy traffic and buzzing mopeds, I felt free and unrestrained.  I couldn't help smiling when the spectators watching from the sidelines - families with children, grandparents, retirees, pregnant women, neighbors, sent us their cheers and support via drumbeats, clapping, and rattling noise-makers.  Even I couldn't resist whipping out high-fives to the kids eagerly reaching out for one.

I, being more hobby than competitive, jogged the whole race, to cross the finish line much more relaxed and less out-of-breath than my competitors.  Next year, when in Linz, then I'll be running again for sure!

Mostly Most

We are nearing mid-April, and to keep my mind off someone's pending decision from Berlin - whether or not I'm to be granted a spot in a Master's program - I have a strong desire to explore a hilly, rural area in Lower Austria known as the "Mostviertel."

"Most" is German for cider, but not the apple cider you give to children.  This is hard cider, similar to what you'd find in rural areas of PA, W. Virginia, and Southern Ohio.  Apples and pears are harvested throughout the Mostviertel, and much of the yield is kept for brewing cider, hence the name "Most"-viertel.  In spring, the apple and pear trees are full-bloom, which makes for beautiful bike rides and hikes along the rivers Ybbs and Enns.  And how better to end an excursion than to visit a Mostheuriger, or cider tavern, for a tall glass of the stuff.

Essential words for the "Most" season

Heuriger - wine tavern which sells homemade wines from the previous season
Apfel, Birne - apple, pear
Most - cider (hard)

Along with an excursion or two through the Mostviertel, I hope to absorb as much local traditions as possible.  One of these is, of course, the Maibaum.  We'll see how far I get here, but stay posted for any surprise photos!