bottom's up! for health, of course...

Achtung! looonnnggg post ahead!
Am disappointed to be missing a party I really wanted to be at, due to some weird flu-like things that render me useless in public, like fever and incredibly itchy and dry, bloodshot eyes. However, I AM celebrating the season by reading "apartment therapy" online and drinking beer grog.

One Saturday ritual I love is waking up to the sounds of CK making coffee, after which I hear the door squeaking and him returning with the paper, from which he tosses the Saturday magazine insert on the bed beside me. I get up to snag a big gorgeous mug made by Natalie, fill it with life-giving joe, and crawl back into bed with the Freizeit magazine. The photography is stunning, week by week I understand a bit more of the German too. I love the cooking section. Really. It is the part of magazines I HATE normally. But this one is SO GOOD. a) they have a half-page about what is in season right this second and what to do with it, its different names and types, and big pictures b) they have a "cooking for one" recipe that is fresh, using the produce they mentioned, and super simple, c) they have across the top of the page, cartoon-style, a children's item with clear pictures and simple directions--today it was making popcorn, which was weak, but normally it is something like baking an apple, or whisking up pudding from scratch, or making a simple salad. Then there is an article from a famous German chef whose equally famous restaurant got shut down cuz he was a cokehead, and, since Austria is very loosey-goosey about morality (just not the appearance of morality) and eminently practical, they immediately scooped him up to write a weekly column on food. So he will pick something apparently random, like horseradish, or celery root, or, again, whatever is in season, and write well, humourously, and knowledgeably about this thing. Then, there is the top 5 list. It is different weekly: where is the best Tafelspitz (boiled beef, served with Rösti and horseradish applesauce), Biergarten (summer, obviously) to where is the best Martini Gans'l (today's). November 11 is St. Martin's day (every day of the year has a saint assigned to it, and if you have a saint's name, you celebrate a mini-birthday on that day. It is your "saint's-day." On most calendars here the daily saint is mentioned. At several uBahn stations there are large-screen tvs where you watch the news clips while waiting for trains and they scroll through headlines, weather, and today's saint and the saint's basic info.

Naturally, some Saints are more famous than others. St. Martin, for some reason, requires a goose to be eaten on his name day, which is Nov. 11th. http://www.bbc.co.uk/dna/h2g2/A17953608 So for the days around that day, Gans (diminunitive form in Austria: Gans'l is goose) is offered on all menus from every low-brow beer pub to high-end restaurants. And it is served with Blaukraut (red cabbage) and roasted chestnuts and dumplings and a lot of beer, or, wine if served in a wine tavern. It is delicious. We have reservations at a Buschenschank on the 14th, about 10 in the party. (Buschenschank is a Heuriger--wine tavern at a vineyard--where the bush is hung outside above the door to indicate open for business) We are going to Klüger's in Stammersdorf again this year, fabulous meal, fabulous wine, fabulous schnapps to ensure fabulous digestion of all that fabulousness.

The next big saint is St. Barbara.
We buy a Barbarabund at the market for her on Dec 4th or the Saturday before. This is a bunch of twigs for about 4 Euro. Bund is something that is bound, hence, bundle of sticks, bundle of flowers etc. You stick the twigs in a vase of water, and the twigs flower by Christmas Eve. St. B was being taken in a carriage by her father to meet her executioner when a twig from a tree got caught in her cloak and flowered before she reached the beheader. Her crime (about 306 a.d.) was converting to Christianity. St. B's life sucked, really, as she had already been locked in the tower by her merchant father who took off on a sales trip and kept her there for safekeeping for months while he was away. She had the servants cut 3 windows in her bathhouse to indicate the Trinity. Bad move for ensuring a long life, Babs. http://www.saintbarbara.org/about/frp_stbarb.cfm

all of which to say I am drinking Biergrog. Now I have had grog, and I have had beer, but this brings both out of the nosebleeds into the boxes. So this is what the Freizeit had on offer today in a sidebox:
125 g sugar ('bout 1/3 cup, can substitue stevia or whatever), 1 litre light beer (e.g.Pilsner or Budweiser) I used one non-alc and one regular, 1/2 cinnamon stick. Then heat the beer and sugar and cinnamon stick just to a boil and stir the whole time. When the sugar is dissolved turn off the heat and let it sit while you beat 4 eggs and add 1 cup (250 mL) rum to them. Then whisk the eggs/rum with the beer/sugar/cinnamon and pour into glasses et voila! Biergrog! fun to say, fun to drink.

CK says that it is very good for colds and flu, and it is true, I am sweating profusely when moments ago I was shivering. Let the healing begin.

just watch out that you don't return it to heat, the eggs will get custardy in there. Not bad, just marginally chunky. Best to avoid. Serves 4 people who like grog, 6 who are being polite. Two of us.

When things drive me nutso about life here (difficulty galore with this impenetrable language, pushy, shovy, whiny, complaining people, obsession with what the neighbour is doing, courtesy-is-a-shameful-weakness and waiting for one's turn is for wimps) I then have moments where the richness of the traditions, the history, the fact that at our lokal the Napolese chef brought out his Russian coin from the 1700s to show us, then his Roman ones, (imagine! the hands that have touched these coins! the pockets they have jingled in!), and I go to the market-behind-the-market and pick up gorgeous firm pale green heads of cabbage, and tight heads of cauliflower, and the last of the season's farm tomatoes and red peppers. And I look for the first bunches of Barbarabund, and love life here again.

Biergrog, not just for flu anymore! bring your maudlin here!

Perfect Autumn

Today we went to Laxenburg for the day. It is a small town about 17 km from Vienna, with a beautiful Schloss and park. After lunch at the Rathaus Stüberl (city hall pub, where I had a Käsekrainer, locally known as an Eitriger, or "pus", due to the white cheese in a sausage which oozes out when you bite into it. Num Num:) in the sun, we happened upon a tiny, wonderful museum, rather optimistically called "Laxenburg Museum". The curator was a tiny, warm woman who greeted us graciously and drew us in. On exhibit is a Bulgarian painter named Miglena Alexandrova. I fell in love with some of her paintings--various inspirations from Klimt and Van Gogh but the style absolutely, uniquely, her own. I didn't find her work overly expensive for what it is--I'm dreadfully tempted by a piece I definitely can't afford though. I was both enthused and moved by her colours and iconography. Now how do I get me the pieces I want? HMMM...have no firstborn to sell...when will I be able to afford the art I want? Maybe, say, after I can afford to move my stuff to Europe from the storage locker somewhere in the bowels of Richmond? I want 3 pieces from her collection...total 4200 Euro. Now is that too much to ask out of life? Again...HMMM. I wonder if she'd take Hazuki in trade (sorry Puddy Tat). But paintings, no matter how lovely, don't wake you by jamming themselves in the negligable space between man and wife purring loudly so the first thing wife experiences in the morning is silky fur pressed against her cheek with the sounds of a motor running. Can't trade that for art. It's performance art, Cat Style.

Our lovely curator recommended walking to the "pond" in the castle park. So we did...and it was amazing. The fall colours were out in full glorious golden force, with miles of parkland and lakes and canals. Not to mention various 16th century bridges and grotto and "outbuildings" like the mini-castle (also 16th century) with a tiny passenger ferry on a cable to get you to the island. We rented a peddle boat and cruised around just before dusk. There was another couple on the lake--but they were on a floating wicker sofa. With a motor and boatsman. We had to WORK to get around. :) There was also a remarkable children's playground, and a jumping ring/corral for horses (don't know the real name for it--but also the same age but still in use). There are paths only for riding as well. Apparently people come in the winter to skate on the canals too. It is a place to which we want to return. There's a "Postbus" from just down the street that takes us there in 35 minutes, for about $2.50. The Postbuses date from the days when the "Post" wagons carried passengers and dropped them off at Hotels Zur Post (Inns). These still exist in every village. I told CK that I want to stay in one--just for the history. After all the 17th/18th/19th literature I've studied I want to feel like I'm recreating a journey--albeit dressed in technology--that Jane might have taken. Had Austen ever left Hampshire.
Smelling the leaves, seeing the turning trees, hearing the lapping of the water, all made CK nostalgic for nature today. When we got home tonight, he wrote up a list of what he wants: a mountain hut for the weekends, easily accessible by car even in winter, no other houses in sight. Preferably in Styria or Kaernton. There are countless mountain huts here in Austria, most of which, if they are still in use, are used as inns to keep them financially viable. So we'll start looking. I think what he's aiming for is a sort of time-share--but ideally only with the owner. It sounds like heaven.

Although Vienna is no bigger than Vancouver, due to its layout and history it feels like a more urban centre. Every "house" (apartment building) nearly is mixed-use (see Jane Jacobs, "The Death and Life of Great American Cities" for urban geography inspiration). That makes city living easy, viable and safe--but essentially urban. We are slowly getting to know the parks around our area, which helps us get into "the nature" as people here say. There's another "Kur Zentrum" Oberlaa (cure centre, which means holistic spa) about 15 min.'s drive away, with, again, acres of parkland and trails and "ponds", which are more like small lakes. I believe it is due to the sheer numbers of people in Europe in a relatively small landmass that make people here value their (extensive and well-cared-for) green spaces. Many of my students go "to the mountains" on their weekends. They hike a lot here. Sunday family outings often involve church in the morning (VERY Catholic country), then a drive to the mountains for a hike in the afternoon.


Well, after a perfect day, it's bedtime. I'd plans to make some more salt bars (cold-process soap with a 1:1 ratio of sea salt to oils) tonight but it's going to be a short night before a long week. So instead I mixed the essential oils I want to use to scent the soap so they can blend overnight, and I have oatmeal and sea salt and fennel soaking in distilled water to mix with lye and oils tomorrow. I love my salt soap. Taking two drying ingrediants--coconut oil and salt--and mixing them to create an amazingly moisturizing soap is a miracle of synergy. I made some last week with the intent of creating an Earl Grey tea scent in a "winter" bar for dry skin in wintry air--and it worked! They smell like Earl Grey and they are like lotion on your skin after showering. And they've not even fully cured. They don't cut well (too hard) so they ain't the purtiest gals on the block but oh! how I love them:) The latest creative fad for me...addictive process. This week I have to carve out some time in my insane schedule to meet with a local fashion designer to arrange for her to sell my soap in her shop. A mutual friend is setting this up and I'm very excited about it. I also have a meeting with a company to teach English to a logistics company. Great pay, difficult schedule. How did my simple life get so busy AGAIN? I vowed when I moved to Vienna I would embrace the quiet life of solitude and introspection I long for. So where is It?