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Riding out on the train early Tuesday morning just as the sun gilds the tops of the peaks ringing Innsbruck.
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Relationship vs. Individuality: Heidi and I had a long discussion on a train going back from her parents’ house to Innsbruck. A difference between Austria and America, Heidi said, is that Austrians put more stock on relationships. They focus on building a life with someone, on forming relationships, whereas in America, we are more focused on personal gain. It’s true that in the US, it’s considered almost unhealthy to base your life on a relationship. We consider it better to make yourself happy, to find satisfaction in what you’re doing, and then find someone with similar interests, or someone that is at a similar station in life. This position seemed absurd to Heidi: if you’re only focused on yourself, how are you ever going to have the energy required to put the necessary effort into a relationship? Heidi and I only talked about Austrian-American cultural differences, leaving religion out of the discussion (believing or not believing, forming a relationship with God and Christ, how spiritual relationships affect our own relationships, etc.). As with any question, finding a balance is essential. Living completely for another human being is a denial of all that is good in our own, individual lives; living only for yourself is selfish and the surest way to lead a lonely, miserable life. Food for thought.
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Foggy valley bottoms, sun glinting off high mountain slopes as the train whizzes through the Tirol.
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How much do we ever really say to each other? It’s funny what I can’t say here in this blog—sometimes I think I should just send out a mass email, like I did while in Ecuador, but even then, I still can’t say everything I want to in an email. Would it be better to Skype with people individually? Or just wait until I get home, to talk face-to-face? Even with someone in the same room, or sitting side-by-side on a sofa, how much are we really saying? How much can we read someone else’s heart?
It’s a miracle, I believe, when you can connect with someone and know that your words are being understood exactly the way you mean them. It’s these kinds of connections that I miss.
German: head full of words floating in a dark pool, and I just pick phrases at random.
Being here makes me appreciate living in Spain, where my grasp on Spanish is so much less tenuous. As soon as I get back to Mallorca, though, I’ll start thinking longingly of English, and all the ways I can use nuances to narrow in on my precise meaning. Even two native speakers, though, of any language, can wildly miscommunicate—which brings me back to the point that meeting someone at the same level is a miracle.
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Green fields as we cut through the southern part of Bavaria, in Germany! Flat, rolling landscape out the left window, sharp peaks out the right. Instantly flatter as we crossed the Austrian-German border. About to go by Chiemsee.
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Despite this discussion of the aloneness, or the separateness, of individual people, or the idea that every person is (an island? a bubble-boy unable to pop the plastic wrap?) it’s true that “no man is an island” and that we all connect with each other, somehow, at some level. But how? And when?
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fog over Chiemsee, sun blinding through clouds, slanting through copses of trees, rolling white farmland. Coming into Salzburg. When did we cross back into Austria?
Sitting on the steps of the cathedral listening to the singing. Open-air concert of 1) traditional Christmas songs in German, 2) a flute rendition of “Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town,” 3) some song called “Essdet ihr” or “Esse dir”. The third category: perhaps some combination of Latin and the Salzburg dialect of German? No. Turns out to be “As The Deer” (as in “As the deer panteth for the water / so my soul longeth after You / You alone are my heart’s desire / and I long to worship You”). I haven’t heard that song since my years in Youth Group. What memories! 4) the encore: “As The Deer”. Again.
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Now that I’m back on sunny Mallorca, I think there was an interesting dualism in my short trip to Austria. The first few days were spent with Andi and Heidi, and I had some wonderful, interesting discussions with both of them. I played games and drank Glühwein with Andi’s friends, I hung out with Heidi’s cat and drank schnapps with Heidi’s mom, and I felt like a real person. As soon as I stepped off the train in Salzburg, however, I turned into a pure tourist. I loved it! I loved Salzburg, but without ever actually talking to anybody (I mean about anything that matters), how much did I actually see? Can a tourist ever get to know the motivations, or the reasons for being, of life in whatever town or country he or she is visiting? Is it important to have deep convos with everyone, or is it enough to broaden our horizons just by going to new places? Is the answer in eco-tourism, which seeks to have visitors make a connection to the new place, thereby establishing in the visitor value in the land? Is the answer in couch surfing, which “makes the world a better place, one couch at a time,” where people open their homes and share about their culture with curious, receptive travelers? Or should someone have to move to another country, establish herself in an apartment with a roommate from a country she’s never been to and probably won’t ever go to, work with the children—the future of the community—and try to set up meaningful relationships with the people there? Is that the best way to learn more about the world?
Whatever the answer (if there is an answer), I put philosophical musings aside as I traipsed through Salzburg on a gloriously sunny, amazing day.
I got to Salzburg at about ten in the morning and I made my way to my hostel, where I had to fight my way through three large English tour groups about to depart for some sightseeing. Salzburg seems to be the city of tours: you can go on a Sound of Music tour, a Mozart tour, tours of the salt mines (whence Salzburg gets its name: “Salz” means “salt” auf Deutsch), tours of ice caves, tours of Hitler’s Eagle’s Nest (which is actually in Germany, but still very near to the border), and a “Private Deer Finding” tour (which I saw advertised with a picture of two people sitting in the snow, watching deer—no idea what the draw is there.)
Anyways, because Austria turned out to be much more expensive than originally planned, I skipped all the guided tours (alas! I didn’t get to reenact Maria’s running over green slopes while bellowing “The Hills Are Alive”) but I did do lots of wandering around and took lots of pictures. I have to say, I am a sucker for kitsch, and I definitely have to go back to Salzburg and do all the things I didn’t do this time. 1) I didn’t go into Mozart’s Birth House, 2) I didn’t have coffee at the Café Tomaselli, 3) I didn’t go into the Felsenreitschule rock stage, where the Von Trapps gave their moving concert before popping over the mountains to get to Switzerland, a mere 250 miles away.
But I really did have a lovely day, and I really, really love Sound of Music (no matter the fun I’m poking at it now) and I’ll most likely have to go on a Sound of Music tour sometime in my life. My favorite things by far: 1) Exploring the city center, 2) Going to a free, midday organ concert, 3) Hiking up the hills that border the city center and wandering through the woods, overlooking the city, 4) Listening to the choir singing Christmas carols (yes, and “As the Deer”) in front of the Cathedral
I ate dinner alone at an Indian restaurant, where everything was labeled “bio” (Biotea, Biorice, Bionaan), and I crashed at the hostel, getting up in time for a mid-morning flight out of the Salzburg airport. I got back to Mallorca and heard about the nationwide transportation strike that had started the afternoon of the day I left—oh! I forgot a really important part of my story! Apart from the unannounced, impending strike, I almost didn’t make it off of Mallorca. My alarm clock decided not to go off—it was on, I swear, and set for 5:30am, NOT pm—and so I missed the bus. My sainted roommate drove me the 45 minutes to the airport before turning around and driving the 45 minutes back to work so that I could make my flight. She was scheduled to fly out to Barcelona in the evening, but the strike started about midday on Friday, so she didn’t get out until Sunday. Thanks to me, she made at least 4 trips to the airport that weekend. Of course, my alarm clock WAS on, and I guess I left it on in the rush to get ready after getting up late, and it proved its being on (and its capriciousness) by going off this morning at 5:30am. Karma. I did bring back gifts from Innsbruck’s Christkindlmarkt (Christmas market), though, to thank my wonderful roommate.
OH! Totally forgot that I got the whole pat-down (grope-down) in the Salzburg airport. A very important part of my experience. I can sleep soundly in my bed tonight, knowing Europe is safe.
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To see photos from my five days of heaven in Austria, here’s the link to the 1st facebook album: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2050908&id=65202311&l=ef1ad41957
And then the facebook album of pure Salzburg:
Oh Jen, I LOVE the Sound of Music!!! I was just talking to my Grandpa and was telling him that I brought the movie with me and might watch it tonight :) He actually sent me the movie in Ecuador via your parents :)
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