Liebwohl...

It seems impossible that I've been here for five months. One semester is really not that much time in the life of an academic, but the nature of the experience has been more... well, just something more than usual. All I know for certain is that this is one of those passages of my life after which things will be weighed and measured on a new scale.

I sit writing this in a heuriger outside of Vienna after a long tramp through the vineyards. I thought this might be the time to say goodbye. My last day in the city proper (after spending all day tomorrow packing and at the library) will be too much of a whirlwind.

I cannot say what Austria or Vienna is, but I most definitely have an impression of what it is to me. In the end, it was a place I could spend time with myself, something that is more difficult to do than we think. Yes, it's been productive. Yes, it's been fun and I've made new (and lasting) friends. Yes, it's been painful too. And no, I am not ready to leave. And yes, I am ready to come home.

The long goodbye...

I have two weeks left in Austria and it seems like I've been here forever. It also seems like I just moved into my fourth (fifth) floor apartment yesterday. At our "going away" party, which Fulbright Austria hosted at a heuriger in Neustift am Wald, our host reminded us that we go away so we can go home again. I know exactly what he means, thanks to the numerous opportunities I have had to "go away." I'd add, though, that we go away to make new homes, to remember that there are many ways to define "home." This has been on my mind a lot lately, largely because of how many visitors I have had in the past month.

My parents came in time for my birthday and we went to Prague together. That trip away and back drove home the idea of Vienna as "my city." So did playing host to a friend from graduate school for a couple of days--a complete and welcome surprise, not least because it meant there was somebody to go to Beethoven's testament house in Heiligenstadt who would really get it. Going to Budapest to visit another Fulbrighter, and then getting to host in return also reinforced my sense of belonging in Vienna. My German may still be rudimentary, but I have enough to make me comfortable and I no longer need a map in the city.

In honor of my home away from home, have some vineyard pics...

Halfway between Mödling and Gumpoldskirchen.

At our family's favorite heuriger in Gumpoldskirchen, after a nice walk through the vines.

Serenading under the cherry tree at the Fulbright heurigen party.

The view out back in Neustift am Wald.

Into the streets!

Or, more like back to the library. May Day is actually a pretty big deal in Europe in general and Vienna is no different, though it is naturally very... Viennese... about its celebrations. Those mostly consist of just about everyone heading for the park, cafe, or other place of relaxation, newspaper reading, and chatting. Oh yeah, and many choose to stroll along the streets in the first district, looking into closed shop windows. I spent most of the day reading in the Stadtpark (where else?) and keeping this guy company...

Sitting on a bench near this Schubert memorial (not a grave... he's buried in Zentralfriedhof) gave some time to notice one of its interesting details.

A muse (or perhaps a personification of music herself) holding a harp and riding a sphinx. Because Schubert was just that awesome.

Anyway, May 1 also marked the beginning of the "get serious about the research again" period. While writing up my Salzburg findings for a presentation to be made next week, I am also digging in to the newspapers and music journals at the Österreichische National Bibliothek. I now know a whole lot more about the week of March 14, 1966 than I ever wanted to know... all I want is the concert reviews, but interviews with Neil Armstrong about Gemini 8 are also cool, I guess.

The library reading rooms are actually in the Hofburg because, once upon a time, the national library was, you know, the Hapsburgs' personal collection...

Of course, nobody actually works in the Prunksaal anymore. It now serves as the place for exhibitions hosted by the library. The most recent one examined the Anschluss through the lives of several Jewish individuals--prominent Austrian intellectuals, artists, politicians, and writers--as they experienced it.

That said, it's not like the "working" parts of the library are un-interesting. For instance, this is my coffee break view...

The Heldenplatz... parking lot of heroes.

And the library is smack between the antique instruments collection and the Ephesos Museum...

So, all in all, I can't complain about the working conditions. Except for the fact that the actual reception study involves microfilm... lots of microfilm. Which means motion sickness from all the scrolling.

Also, I may have finally made headway with an archive. Somebody knows somebody, who knows the really important person. Fingers crossed!

Oh yeah, I was keeping a blog...

Oopsala, as they say. So what have I been off doing? I'll show you what I've been doing...

Even the cherub knows this is serious business.

I've been doing my best to take advantage off all that Vienna's music scene has to offer, from Maghrebi/Viennese jazz fusion to opera to chamber music. I saw three operas last week at the Staatsoper, which is a beautiful space and, just like the Musikverein, much more intimate than say, the Met or Disney Hall. I'm thinking this weekend it's time to go back to the jazz club, Porgy and Bess. Maybe I'll even sneak over to Adolf Loos's American Bar for a cocktail afterwards. One needs to do these things right.

This is not to say that it's all been fun and games here in alte Wien. I am just about halfway through my grant period, which runs from March 1 to June 30, and so I am increasingly aware of the research deadlines. Having come a month early and hit the jackpot at the Festival archives in Salzburg, I've got a nice cushion. Truth be told, if that's all I went home with, it would be enough for an article or two and supplement the book project nicely. That said, I really want to have a better idea of Bernstein's impact in Vienna.

So, it would be nice if the Vienna Philharmonic Archives would step up like their counterpart in Salzburg... but no dice.

My coping strategy? (Besides Eis Greissler?) The Österreichische National Bibliothek... librarians to the rescue, again. Nothing beats hands on work--like looking at roll after roll of microfilm (of newspapers and other periodicals)--for making your feel like a real reception scholar. Hopefully I'll eventually wheedle the official programs and performance history out of the Vienna Philharmonic/Vienna State Opera, so I can have the other half of the story. And there will be institutional documents from the Wiener Konzerthaus, which was actually the place Bernstein first conducted in Vienna anyway (with the Wiener Symphoniker, not the Philharmonic). Nothing beats a good connection from a colleague and an institution that wants you to do research there.

This is all to say that I've not done much sight-seeing since the Sisi Museum (the ever so slightly creepy shrine to all things Kaiserin Elisabeth) and the Schatzkammer (which houses the Crown of Charlemagne... no biggie). I have, however, made time to snap some photos of interesting architecture as I bounce between the Hofburg complex (which houses the ONB) and my two universities.

These are from a walk in the sixth district, back toward the Ring.

One of many, many public housing buildings, only this one is from the 80s rather than the 20s or 40s.

Jugendstil doorway

Hause des Meeres (the aquarium, built into an old anti-aircraft tower).

On Mariahilferstraße, at the intersection of Baroque religiosity and modernist capitalism.

And spring comes to Minoritenplatz (which is where I get off the Ubahn to head for the ONB).

I think this is supposed to be Vienna and the Danube.

I have no idea what the two spires are, though.

Spring also means lots of biking and strolling around the city...

In the Volksgarten, a fake Greek temple with the neo-Gothic Rathaus behind.

The gate to Hundertwasserhaus on the Donaukanal Radweg (the bike/walking path along the Danube canal).

 And proof that I just can't stay away from the Secession building...

And this is my version of traffic on the way to work... this flag is up on internal courtyard of the Hofburg because that's where the Bundespräsident greeted the Prime Minister of Palestine today. Which meant pomp and circumstance... circumstances being it was impassible for an hour or so.

There are three different university holidays this month that fall on a Wednesday or Thursday, so I've got three weeks in which I only teach one class or the other. That, and my folks are coming to visit, so you can expect more tourist-type pictures soon.

For now, here's a bonus pic... statues in the Hofburg fountains on Michaelerplatz making "derp faces."

Sundays in the Park...

... but not with George. Georg, maybe, but no George.

So, I basically live at the Stadtpark now. Just like I did during springs in Bloomington, I find it hard to go inside right now in Vienna. Various trees and bulb flowers (tulips!) are in bloom here and the weather is that perfect cool-but-not-cold that works just right if you want to sit outside in the sun. So I do. In fact, a cherry petal just fell off the tree above me onto the keyboard.

The last time I visited Vienna, the only element missing was the one I’m currently enjoying… a coffee to go. Sure, you could always get McDonald’s or Starbucks, but Kaffee zu mitnehemen was just antithetical to Viennese (and most European) custom. Sure, you can bolt an espresso standing up in Italy, but you don’t take it anywhere. And in Vienna? Forget it… coffee is for sitting down and enjoying, slowly, complete with the much coveted free glass of water. And all served up on a silver tray. And then there was Espresso Mobil… a little three wheeled espresso (and tea, if you wish) truck that usually hangs out in the Stadtpark. Props to Sushi and Strudel for the recommendation. I feel complelled to add my one thought for today to her excellent review… this really isn’t against the Viennese coffee culture. In fact, it’s more like an extension of what they already prize in the ubiquitous sidewalk or courtyard seating, those coveted tables that have just recently opened up for the season. I’m enjoying this espresso macchiato in a leisurely fashion and I’m doing so in the fresh air… I’m just sitting on the ground, in grass strewn with fallen cherry petals, instead of a cheap metal chair. Nicht so schlecht.

So here's a visual record of the past few days...

In other news, I’m in the midst of a music binge. The Maghrebi/Viennese jazz band last night at Porgy and Bess was incredible. I can’t believe I had not already been to this venue, considering it lies directly between the Ubahn stop and the conservatory where I work. More jazz will have to wait, however, since I have three opera tickets for this week, two dinner invites, a lunch, and grading to do. Speaking of that… 

Another five proposals graded and I’ll treat myself to some frozen yogurt: “plain” flavor that’s anything but, real caramel sauce, and hazelnuts. Like a McDonald’s caramel sunday, only so, so much better...

"Look for the helpers"

There was going to be a post about food and drink here but my heart’s not in it this morning. Because we’re all digitally connected in real time these days, travel and many other experiences are much different than they used to be, even from what I remember as a kid. It’s harder to “go away” now and while that makes travel feel safer and more secure than it used to (both for the traveler and those left behind) and lets people share their foreign experiences in a more immediate way, the results of this 24-7 connection are still unpredictable. Like finding out circa 10pm local time about the two bombs that went off at the finish line of the Boston Marathon. Yep, good luck sleeping.

This morning, shortly after my first cup of coffee, Radio Stephansdom began broadcasting Mahler’s Second Symphony: “Resurrection” and while I don’t assume there’s any particular reason for this, it immediately stopped my day in its tracks. This was the piece Leonard Bernstein conducted after the assassination of John F. Kennedy in 1963 and on Mt. Scopus after the end of the Six Day War in 1967. Some of my fellow musicians at Indiana University also performed the fourth movement, “O Röschen rot,” on September 12, 2001. There could not be a clearer signal to stop and reflect.

I choose to focus on the thoughtful and heartfelt responses I’ve seen so far from my friends, acquaintances, and public figures. Patton Ostwalt’s statement and the reappearances of a quote from Fred Rodgers originally in response to 9/11 (“look for the helpers”) stand out. So does the quote from Leonard Bernstein circulated by the New York Philharmonic (from the same concert in 1963 that he led the “Resurrection” symphony) about the artist’s response to violence… “to make music more beautifully, more intensely, more devotedly than ever before.” Can art “help” anything? Not really, except that it helps us feel, and perceive beauty, and make meaning. I reject the platitudes about senselessness… there is always meaning to be made, even if it’s a painful process and even when events seem beyond reason. Yes, this meaning making can go to dangerous places—it’s what sends people to war—but even more perilous is the invitation to opt out of the process of reflection and response offered by the trope of “senseless violence.” Because that’s not what people really mean when they say that... just because we can’t fathom why someone would commit an act of violence doesn’t mean we stop fathoming at all.

I can’t say what this means—or will come to mean—for anyone in Boston, or for anyone else. I can say that I’ve thought a lot this morning about fear. It’s very likely nobody will ever be able to say (or write) the meaning of the events of yesterday in a way that speaks to everyone. I can only say I don’t believe they are meaningless; or rather, that I believe in the meaning of events and actions, particularly all the different kinds of “helpers.”

An American in Salzburg...

…and Istanbul, and Altenmarkt. I’ve made it back to Vienna after two weeks on the road. I guess one surefire way to start thinking of a place as “home” is to return to it like this. It also helps when your home has an institution like the Staatsoper, where I took myself to see Verdi’s Rigoletto last night. I can’t say I will be splurging like that every week (maybe once a month) but it was definitely worth it, for both the music and the whole aesthetic experience. The Gustav Mahler Saal, where you go to sip champagne and eat tiny treats during intermissions, is incredible. It is also filled with objects from the archives, including Beckmesser’s lute and Brunnhilde’s shield from productions in the late 19^th century. It definitely helped me get over the fact that I had to leave this behind:

Tea garden overlooking Seraglio Point in Istanbul.

For now, while my boots made for walking are being repaired, I’m slowing down and reflecting on what I’ve accomplished so far. A reflection on the mind-altering experience that was Istanbul will happen eventually, complete with pictures.

It’s been two months so far and with the ground thawing and a little more sunlight (finally!) it feels like I’ve reached a turning point. While it might look pretty in pictures, my first two months here have been incredibly busy... good, but hectic. And that's just work-wise, leaving aside the whole "living abroad" experience as a stressor.

My archival research in Salzburg is now finished and the process of collating and decoding all the information I have gathered—concert reviews, official programs, letters—can now begin. There is definitely an article here. Thanks to a colleague at the Universität für Musik, I now also have some contacts now at the University of Salzburg who can help me follow up on further questions I might have about the institution of the Salzburg Festival.

Other than the grading, my course at the Salzburg campus of my home institution is now finished. It’s bittersweet, but I’ve still got some new friends and support if I need it at the house on the Mönschberg. I could not have accomplished as much as I have so far without the jumpstart from them in February.

A 50 Year Anniversary lock on a bridge over the Salzach... not exactly how I feel about the folks there, but close enough and a sweet photo I hadn't used yet.

Thanks to the Altenmarkt Seminar, I have the outline of a chapter on Bernstein’s blues. And knowing full well that “by your students you’ll be taught,” I also was glad for the opportunity to talk with Austrian college students headed toward the United States and to interact with the current American student grantees. A couple of Austrians wanted to talk about methodology and the humanities which was fun, and one American was getting ready to enter a master's program in musicology, so there were some good conversations to be had. Getting to sit down and watch The Third Man and hang out for a bit in a gorgeous mountain town/ski area was just the icing on the American Studies cake.

The views out the (gigantic) window of my room...

... certainly don't hurt.

Now it’s back to my two seminars in Vienna and they are turning in their paper proposals this week. I have to say I’ve really enjoyed working with my students here and I can’t wait to see what they can do once they’ve settled into a groove. (This whole three weeks of class and then two weeks of break thing kind of put the brakes on the class momentum.) On the horizon are the first meeting of the department colloquium at the Universität für Musik this week and the re-opening of the Vienna Philharmonic archives mid-April. Oh, and some more Museum Mittwoch.

A teaser from my wandering this afternoon:

Fezs are cool...

...but not as cool as Istanbul. Or Constantinople. Or Byzantium. Or New Rome. Seriously, folks, make up your minds...

The many long centuries of regime change have led to an interesting mix of culture... or layers more like. More on that, though, in another post when I have better internet. For now I have a post dedicated to my mother: tiles that look like quilt patterns (plus one stained glass window).

These are Iznik tiles and the most prevalent colors are turquoise, blue, and white (early 16th c.).

Wall niches are a popular feature to decorate with tiles in this way.

Flowers are a very common design in addition to the geometrics. Tulips make their way into the designs after the rule of Sultan Ahmet III, who had them planted all over the city at great cost. They're in bloom right now, in fact...

The focus on turquoise, white and black, as well as the geometric pattern, means these are probably Seljuk tiles, so more like 15th c.

And the stained glass is just as lovely...

Wall quilt... literally.

And gold, because the sultan's could afford it.

These were all taken in the Tiled Pavilion, which was once a part of Topkapi Palace and is thought to be the earliest surviving non-religious building in Istanbul (1472). I highly recommend visiting the Istanbul Archaeology Museums--even just this was worth it. Never mind the tiled decorations of the Ishtar Gate (Babylon) or any of the other Central Asian, Egyptian, and Greek/Roman antiquities. It's also the shortest line for the Museum Pass (winner for the longest goes to the Aya Sofya).