Austria for Beginners
FORTY SEVEN YEARS in Austria today, September 7, and my first impressions of Vienna include the chilly weather when I stepped out of that airline called Egypt Air, which I found uncomfortable; how small the airport was and the absence of the big crowd you see at Manila International Airport now called NIA — welcoming and seeing off travelers; awed by the never ending blocks of edifices that were almost identical I thought they were universities but in fact were apartment buildings; made the sign of the cross crossing past Rathaus (City Hall) thinking it was a cathedral; made a face after having my first taste of sparkling mineral water; not being able to finish my Semelbrot (Austrian roll) because it was hard I could hardly chew it although it was freshly baked — thanks to the soft breads we get back home called pandesal and bread loaves we call Tasty — a misnomer of a name I can say now I but I loved them; sleeping with a growling stomach my first night because I didn’t eat much of the cold cuts served by my Austrian family host. I was looking forward to dinner, expecting a typical Austrian meal. Still, the host family left the table and watched the 7:30 evening news on TV after having a cup of coffee and a glass of wine, which I politely declined when offered because it tasted like vinegar — ditto for my first mineral water, which almost made me puke because of the carbonic acid — the taste was indescribable I didn’t want to have it again ever. The host family watched some more TV and then finally stood up and said goodnight to me. Strange that they were going to bed without dinner! It never occurred to me that the dinner I was waiting for was indeed the plate of cold cuts — salamis, liver spread, cheese, olives, bread, and butter. Again, strange! Didn’t we call them merienda (snacks) back home? Famished, I finished two hard Semelbrot at breakfast!
I woke up the next day expecting to see this part of Austria vibrating with life. It was a Sunday, and Sundays back home meant family gatherings, big crowds, and even loud music. I looked out the window to find an empty street. Not a soul, void of anything that reminded me of “my favorite things” Julie Andrews sang about in the iconic movie The Sound of Music, the film that would put Austria on the world map. Austria, not Australia. No kangaroos in Austria. Sound of Music. Oh, that! Beautiful country. Suddenly, one remembers, belting out “The Hills Are Alive…” The hills were not alive that Sunday morning when I looked out the window. No kids in the trees hanging upside down, singing Doremi, and no lonely goatherd high on a hill yodeling either. Forty-seven years in Austria, and I have yet to see an Edelweiss that looks happy to greet me.
My first snow in Austria came when my host took me to the Dachstein Mountains — impressive! Later, I traveled to Salzburg, where I visited the filming locations of The Sound of Music, a dream of mine. I was disappointed to find these sites spread across different villages, requiring multiple trips. My sister, visiting then, dreamed of singing ‘I am Sixteen Going on Seventeen’ inside the glass gazebo at Schloss Leopoldskron, now moved to Schloss Hellbrunn’s gardens for tourists. Seeing these sites made Austria’s magic feel even more real, despite the travel involved. The journey between villages was long, but each stop deepened my appreciation for Austria’s scenic beauty and cultural richness.
It was at a Vienna Heurigen — wine tavern — where I had my first bite of Krenn — horseradish. I mistook it for shredded cheese. I put a generous spread on a piece of bread and ate. I was stunned and still for a second! It was so strong, like wasabi, my mouth burned. Someone at the table noticed what I just did and thought perhaps I was so brave. It was embarrassing to spit it out, so I managed to smile and kept chewing, pretending I liked it, my face red, my nose running, tears running down my cheeks — from Krenn overdose.
Imagine my reaction to my first taste of avocado-shrimp cocktail served as an appetizer at the home of the Austrian boyfriend of a Filipina nurse I met in my first week in Vienna. She said it was an opportunity for me to practice the German I learned at the Goethe-Institut in Manila, so I went with her. I don’t remember now if I had a bite of that avocado-shrimp cocktail, but if I did, I may have excused myself for the bathroom. Thought it was a strange food fusion I had never had in my life. These people had no idea how to eat an avocado, I said to myself. I have known avocado since childhood. They grow abundantly in our backyard, and when ripe, we eat them mashed with ice, evaporated milk, and sugar — a summer refresher. And shrimps you cook and eat with rice, never with avocado. Again, different strokes for different folks. I have learned to like it through the years. In the long run, your taste buds get used to the taste of strange cuisine.
My host thought I needed a haircut, so he took me to his barber in his town. The barber, who spoke to me in English, was obviously gay. A day after he did my hair, I dropped by his shop to hang out, like most of us would back home, where beauty parlors and barber shops are favorite hangouts. The barber was attending to a client but paused to ask me if there was anything he could do for me. He was polite to me and yet reserved. I expected a warm welcome. There was none, and it didn’t take me long to realize I was intruding and had no business dropping by expecting a warm reception and a candid conversation. Very much the opposite of what we do back home when in a beauty parlor, where you exchange banter, eat fishballs, and share the latest on Sharon Cuneta and Gabby Concepcion. I said I was passing by and thought I should say hello to him. He thanked me and went on sprucing up his customer. I said goodbye, feeling so ashamed of myself. I never set foot in that barber shop ever again.
I met a Filipina nurse in Vienna who took me to the Vienna Rathaus (City Hall) on October 26, Austria’s National Day. There were buses taking passengers for free to specific tourist destinations, such as Schloss Schönbrunn and the Belvedere. Almost all buses were packed to capacity, so my companion decided to take one for both of us that had enough free seats, without knowing where it was taking us. We ended up touring a garbage incinerator.
It was also at the City Hall when I had my first ride on a Pater Noster lift. It is a doorless, continuously moving elevator where passengers step on and off while it is in motion. The experience scared the living lights out of me, so that I would wake up in the middle of the night, dreaming I was in it on a never-ending ride. I would wake up sweating profusely. Forty-seven years later, and it still haunts me in my dreams. If they still exist, I might gather enough courage to revisit Pater Noster and take another ride, hoping that doing so will eventually put an end to my nightmares.