Some Photos

On top of the fortress. Susie's a little confused - she thinks the Archbishop still lives here.

Oh, wait. I guess we're all a little confused. Andrew most of all. But nothing beats a little "Sound of Music" cut-out.

Can you say "best bread ever"? We can. Oldest bakery in Salzburg and we patronized it. Yum.

At the fortress after our tour.

And a dream house. Fairy tales are true.

Andrew working hard, but look, there's some Stiegl within arms' reach.

It's Real?

Sometimes I have wondered why I work so much doing something that doesn't always come easily to me. Singing is fun...sometimes. Other times it's exhausting and every time I have to relearn something because it's gotten out of place, I wonder what I'm doing. Being in Salzburg, taking lessons twice a week, I can already see that I've learned a lot. As all of my voice instructors would tell you, I have a bit of a mental problem; my mind gets in the way of my voice. I've been standing on one leg while I sing this past week, and I wish it were appropriate to perform that way - it adds strength to my voice by engaging muscles in my abdomen. I've been bouncing on my toes and inhaling deep breaths upside down before singing. Crazy stuff.

But after every lesson I feel invigorated, not down. I know I have a lot to work on. It's not the work that scares me, it's the fear that, despite all that work, it will not be enough. I don't mind working, it's just failing that's difficult.

The other night we took a tour of the Fortress and wandered around the city. We were going to grab some dinner, but I heard loud, dramatic voices drifting through the air. There is a huge projector set up for the festival, and every day they broadcast performances that are going on indoors for free. On the screen I saw Diana Damrau dressed in a huge green outfit, and I knew she was Queen of the Night, the evil queen in Mozart's "Magic Flute." I couldn't believe it was her, that she was here in Salzburg performing as I stood outside and watched. And I knew it was coming - the famous Queen of the Night aria in the second act. We stood and waited, some of us knowing what was coming and others wondering why we were taking the time to listen. And then she opened her mouth and the words flew out. I've listened to this song a hundred times, whether on youtube with friends, on a cd, or in class. And even though it was on a screen, I knew Diana was in there, singing right then, and I remembered why I do this. Sometimes at school I have felt there's no point to this. No one actually performs these operas. No one goes to them. It's like a fairy world that we study because it happened once, but it has no relevance today. Yet here in front of me was someone who had studied for years and years, who had been given a gift, and who now was performing in front of a packed house. So it's real. There is something so powerful about the voice; all of that sound was coming OUT OF HER BODY. It was all her. And it was theatrical and strong, and as I watched I felt overwhelmed by her artistry and by the beauty of music. I felt it in my body, and, not too surprisingly, I started crying. I couldn't help it. I will never be Queen of the Night, but that doesn't mean I can't have a part in the history of music.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DvuKxL4LOqc

Take a listen - even the lines are amazing.

Big Bugs

One of the most interesting parts of this cross-cultural experience has been the realization that, while things are very different, they are also very much the same. People are people. Deep. But seriously, there are families here who live like we do at home. There are young adults who are full of life and excited about the future. There are lonely old men who sit at Cafe Tomaselli and drink coffee, watching the young people who are full of life. Things are are a lot like they are at home. Including the fact that huge hornets fly into bedrooms and scare silly girls into screaming.

Last night, Susanna and I stayed up late talking and laughing. It was after midnight, and there's such a thing as "quiet hours" in Salzburg (that's right, Gordon students, they exist in the real world apart from finals time...), so we closed all our doors, but forgot to close the windows. We were talking about girly things and making each other giggle, when suddenly the largest bug I've ever seen buzzed into our room, hitting the ceiling and making Susie jump down from the bunk bed and huddle next to me on the floor. I try not to swear, but I'm telling you, this thing could sting the life right out of me, and we both couldn't contain ourselves. I'm not even scared of bugs, usually, but what can you do? Austrian bugs are flippin huge.

So I climbed up on to the top bunk and tried to swat it with one of our towels. I hit it, but what's a swat to a mutant stinging insect? It buzzed right at my face, and I screamed. I was pretty embarrassed that a bug made me scream, but Susie said with determination: "Alright, it's time to wake the boys." Now I am not one for running to a male in a time like this - what can a boy do that I can't? If it's gonna sting me, it's gonna sting him - but I didn't know what else to do. We weighed our options: Tom wouldn't wake up, he's like a log. Jon would wake up, but probably be pretty angry at us and never let us forget it. We decided on Andrew, the outdoorsman, the boy who likes to save people.

Susie knocked on his door, but he wasn't in there (his roommate replied, "Andrew's not in here. Don't come in."). I went back to our room while Susanna went to find Andrew, and I'd had enough. Dorien, our friend from the Netherlands, said, "No one has ever seen a bug that big! I want to make a picture!" And instead of helping me, proceeded to take pictures of the huge deadly bug.

I grabbed the towel again and stealthily tested the hornet's reaction to my approach. It was preoccupied with preening, so I set in, a fast and furious attack with the towel. I pounded the towel against the wall, trying to squeeze the life out of it, but when I checked the clump, I saw it still moving! So I smooshed the towel into a ball and punched and punched it. By this time, Susie was back with Andrew, David, and Dorien, and I looked like a fool punching a towel. I opened it again and IT STILL WASN'T DEAD. This thing was resilient. Andrew took the towel and threw the hornet outside, where it lives on to attack us in our sleep.

So somethings are the same, and somethings are different. Bugs fly inside and scare girls, but they are a heck of a lot bigger.

A Day of Singing

I had my second voice lesson today, and I absolutely love my teacher. There is always a learning curve with a new teacher-student relationship, but we speak the same language (literally and figuratively), so that helps a lot. She's from Louisiana but she's lived in Salzburg for four years, so she knows what it's like to be here for the first time, kind of unsure of what you're doing. She's given me some new techniques - I have rocked on the balls of my feet to power up to the top notes and "hissed" phrases to figure out the right amount of breath and energy for the line - and my next lesson is Thursday. A lot to practice in a day and a half!

Today we went to Schloss Leopoldskron, the mansion where they filmed some outdoor scenes for "Sound of Music." Of course, I got lost getting there from my voice lesson (I walked for about 45 minutes more than I should have), so I missed the first half hour of the tour. I was in a cranky mood cause I was hungry and tired, but I snapped out of it after Cat offered me a crusty roll. We took some fun pictures, too, near the lake where the kids climb out of the water after tipping over the canoe (in the movie, I mean).

Here's our group on the steps that lead up to the back terrace of the mansion. You can barely see our faces.

The library of my dreams. This photo was taken from the balcony (thanks, Jon), which was also filled with books. There were little nooks where you could read and write, with beautiful woodwork and marble everywhere. The only thing missing was the rolling ladder, but the secret staircase that led up to the balcony made up for it.










And here we are, me, Susanna, Tom, and Andrew. Chilling on the terrace of a mansion. This is crazy.

Figured Out How to Post Photos

 Here's our fortress in the middle of the city. We had dinner up here the second night we were in Salzburg.

Susanna and me on the top of the castle, right outside the restaurant.

Views from the castle

At the fountain in Mirabell Gardens. Mirabell was built for a mistress of one of the Archbishops - she had fifteen children with him. Which came first, the fifteen kids or the ornate mansion?

We got caught in the rain! Then, right when we were about to leave the city, our friends walked through the pouring rain to meet us for dinner anyway. And we didn't think they would come...

Super scary prison for students in Heidelberg. The inmates' profiles were painted all over the walls. It was so creepy.

On the Train

I've ridden the train before; all last summer I took the commuter rail into Boston when I worked in the city, and I took Amtrak from Philly to Boston a couple years ago. Everyone tells me trains in Europe are different, nicer, and they are. But no one warned me about how they were different in other ways too. It took only one weekend trip for me to learn the ins and outs of European train rides.

A few months ago I'd set up a weekend trip to see my friend Will. He's studying in Heidelberg (a good German major) and I said I'd just hop on the train and meet him there. So Friday after my morning class, after I'd eaten a delicious meal of fish soup and bread, I packed my little backpack, bought two bus tickets to get me to and from the "Hauptbahnhoff" (did I mention I'm almost bilingual now?), and hit the road. I must have made a funny picture in my orange dress, navy blue blazer, backpack, and flipflops. I definitely didn't look like I knew what I was doing. When I reached the train station I realized I had a good twenty minutes before I left, so I used the train station bathroom. Using a public restroom = .50 euro. That's right. When the train to Heidelberg pulled up, I got on and looked for a free seat. I'd asked Will and even one of the directors of my program here if I should reserve a seat. They both said not to bother, that it was more money and not worth it. So I just plunked myself down in a window seat and waited to gaze at the rolling Austro-German scenery. That worked for about two stops. And then a young woman came up to me and said "Entschuldegung?" (sp?!) and said something in rapid German which I figured out meant, "Girl, you're in my seat. Move!" So I moved. And lived in fear every time someone walked by me - what if I were in their seat? I made it to Heidelberg in only one seat-move.

I had a great time in Heidelberg - a beautiful walk on Philosphers' Way, delicious "doners" (kebabs in a thick pita), and even a "cocktail-to-go" (bizarre). Sunday after church I left for Salzburg, and the trip back was a different kind of eventful. I reserved a seat this time, since it was easy to do and would allow me not to cower every time someone looked at me. So I found my seat number in my car, but a woman in her fifties was sitting there. I don't know enough German to explain to her what happened, so I showed her my ticket and pointed to the number. She just motioned me forward as though I were in the wrong compartment. I didn't know what to do. I walked further down and stood awkwardly in the aisle, until I asked a young man with bright blue eyes if he would help me. He understood English, and he took my ticket and explained to the woman. The woman motioned to the person next to her - a slow man in his twenties or so - and it looked like she didn't want to leave him. Finally we decided to make another person move and the three of us sit together. Phew.

A few stops later I hear again, "Entschuldegung?" It's the woman. She kept talking quickly, motioning to herself and to the slow man who now sat next to me, who was obviously her son. She had to repeat herself, pointing at her chest, saying, "Ich, ich," and embarrassing her son to the point where he patted her hand, looked away, and blushed. Finally I heard that she was getting off at the next stop, but her son was getting off in Munchen ("Munich"), and would I please be sure to get him off the train when we got there? Oh my gosh. It was so obvious that I didn't speak German, why didn't she ask someone across the row who did?! I looked at her son, back at her, said, "Munchen?" and when she said yes, I smiled and said, "Ja," like I knew what I was saying "ja" to. For the next twenty minutes I couldn't focus on my book ("Tender at the Bone" by Ruth Reichl, by the way. Very good.) for fear I would miss his stop. Finally it came, and I stood up, letting him pass. He didn't even need me to remind him.

I thought it was over. I thought my ride would end in peace. But then it happened - smells. An older couple and their middle-aged daughter came and sat at my table, the man next to me. He was shrunken and thin, but I could see that he had once been a tall man. I didn't mind sitting with them, but it was the smell. Every time they moved it wafted over me, engulfing my nose. I tried to ignore it, and eventually it seemed to wear off. Later they bought two coffees, and as the man reached into his pocket to get out his wallet, he rested his elbow on my thigh. I kept thinking, whatever, whatever, he doesn't even know he's doing it. After he paid for the coffee, though, he reached over and patted my knee, muttered something in German, and laughed. Then his wife and daughter laughed. So I had to follow suit, and I laughed like I knew what was happening.

After all that, I am back in Salzburg. Is there more to learn about trains and buses? Probably. For now, be sure to make a seat reservation, and just smile and nod and pretend you know what's going on. Most of the time, it doesn't matter anyway.

After the Scavenger Hunt

I am very competitive. Especially when it comes to speed games and/or knowledge quests. Today we did a scavenger hunt throughout the city, and my team was great: Susanna, Andrew, John, Tom, and I. John strategized, drawing on our huge, German map the route that would hit all our spots; Andrew navigated for us, taking pictures at each location; Tom and Susanna followed up the rear in defense from other teams, and me? My job was to copy down all the thirteen questions. That was my only job.

It was so hot out, and you know I don't do well in the blazing sun without water and wearing shoes that slip around. It wasn't long before I had blisters on my heels, and I tried really hard not to complain because I don't know these kids so well (other than Susie), and only my family and closest friends deserve to hear me whine. So I held it in pretty well, and even found a few of our destinations - Cafe Furst ("u" with an umlaut) where the first Mozartkugels were invented, and, while I didn't discover her, I did get in the picture with the woman in a drindle (those really cute dresses with white shirts underneath that people try to pull off in the twenty-first century but don't quite make it. Maybe I could get away with my prairie dress after all?!?).

The boys were really intense, marching along through the cobblestone streets with the sun beating down and me in the middle swiping at my dripping forehead every two seconds. I wanted to win, if only so they would get the satisfaction. Andrew even wore his explorer's hat - there was mention of bringing camelbacks, but I think it was in jest. We were on the last quest: Find a plaque at the beginning of Hennerstrasse with the name of a musician who lived there. We looked everywhere. We walked down the street (or up, I should say, since the road was a huge hill), didn't find it, and walked back. There was nothing. Andrew approached a young woman to ask (in German), but she had no idea what we were talking about. In German she said, "Mozart lived on Getriedegasse," but we weren't looking for Mozart. Finally I found an indentation in the cement wall with large metal screws poking out. "Look, guys! I bet a plaque used to be here and they moved it." I was serious. It really looked like that. So, in distress, we took our picture with the indentation and returned to our hostel.

When we got there we were the first team to return. We sat on the steps, sweating, hot, smelly, and hoping that we were right and the plaque had been moved. The next team arrived and we had to ask: "Did you find the plaque on Hennerstrasse?" "It wasn't on Hennerstrasse," Monica said. "Yeah, Frau Thuswaldner changed it the last minute. It was on [insert some other 'K' named street]," Cat added.

I hung my head in shame. My only job was to copy the questions.

First Impressions

I didn't know what to expect. Trans-Atlantic flight? Will I be able to sleep on that? The answer is, barely: I waited and waited until I was so exhausted I passed out for an hour and a half. I was sitting in the very middle of the middle seat, between a middle-aged German and a Russian man in his thirties, so I wasn't entirely comfortable. There was a while there when the bald Russian fell asleep facing me, his mouth agape, and I found it hard to focus on "The Lincoln Lawyer" with his face so incredibly close to me. But eventually I fell asleep and was woken up for a breakfast of a 90 calorie yogurt which tided me over for about twenty minutes. Accomplishment of the flight: I finished Jane Eyre! And I actually loved it! Mr. Rochester has won me over, very much in the way he did Jane, and he is perhaps on my list of top favorite literary heroes...

When I got to Frankfurt, I found Professor Brooks and two other students from Gordon. We got to Salzburg and grabbed a taxi (it was actually a van - did I say I had packed a pretty huge suitcase and a backpack of books?) and drove to the hostel. My roommate Susanna hadn't arrived yet, so I dropped my suitcase off and headed out for a walk to explore and get some much needed lunch. Along the way I passed a huge field full of tall,white, lacy flowers. Ah, Queen Anne's lace, I thought. And then I thought, no! it's edelweiss! I'm in Austria! Nope. It was some kind of weed.

About 3/4 of a mile down the road, I found a grocery store. The doors were glass and opened automatically, so I entered the "foyer" of the store easily, and tried to keep walking straight through the next set of doors. But they didn't open. Then a woman to the right of me motioned and laughed. The door was on the right and I was trying to enter through the exit. She said something quickly to me in German, making a joke, so I laughed in false understanding. Did you know you have to weigh the fruit yourself and print out a receipt for it before paying? Yep. Found that out.

So far we've done a tour of the old part of Salzburg (our tour guide wore lederhosen! yes!) and I actually saw where Mozart was born. It exists. It's a real place. Also, Salzburg is full of tourists! I've never seen a city with so many non-natives. We were trying to find a coffee shop, but no one in my group was willing to ask anyone, so I did. I approached two German-speaking women, but they shook their heads. "We are just tourists," they said, "but you can probably get coffee where it says 'cafe'." Oh well. We didn't find a place for cool college kids to hang out, but we did get some ice cream at an outdoor restaurant. I guess we have five weeks to find where the cool kids are.

Things I've Done/Accomplished: 1) I did pack my sneakers and am anticipating using them, 2) I bought a new skirt, 3) I figured out what books to bring, but I'm almost done with them...uh-oh... 3) Seen Mozart's birth-place and his statue, 4) Sat in the cathedral where Mozart played (there are FIVE organs in there!), 4) Got a beer at an awkward bar, but at least it was less awkward than the first one that we walked in and out of.

Things I Have Yet To Do: 1) FIND A NICE COFFEE SHOP! 2) Go swimming (did I say that the public pool costs 4,20 Euros?!? The public pool! And apparently the river's current is far too fast to swim in, or so they tell me... 3) Start singing. Still have to set up those lessons. Coming soon.

Before the Big Flight

So, as with most things, I'm feeling a little anxious about my trip. Most of you know that I'll be studying in Salzburg for five weeks (yes, I know, I already graduated...but who doesn't want to sing where Mozart lived?). Singing "Un bel di vedremo" from "Madame Butterfly" on the hills of Austria - is this really happening?! And, despite the fact that it seemed July 7th would never come, it appears that this Thursday is indeed, July 7th. Did I say I've only flown twice? And never for longer than, say, three hours? People keep telling me to bring my ipod, but I still haven't gotten around to getting one. I'll probably bring a notebook and finally finish "Jane Eyre," which has been taking a lot longer than I anticipated...

Still to do: get some Euros for the taxi ride, make copies of my passport, buy a new skirt (necessary? no.), figure out which books to bring, and if it's really worth it to pack my sneakers. Who wants to be in the mountains in flip-flops? But if there's one thing seasoned travelers have been telling me, it's "Don't pack too much! Don't! Whatever you do!"

Things I can't wait to do: find the coziest, smallest coffee shops and dig in to write about everyone I see, swim in the river that divides the city (is that allowed?), study voice again after a month and a half, see the fortress overlooking Salzburg, and finally realize that the world outside the North Shore exists.