Note to the next jackass I have to talk to in a bar

After telling you that in the last 15 years I have worked for the Anti-Defamation League, the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum, and HIAS, and then after explained that my upcoming PhD will be in Holocaust history, that I am writing a dissertation about Jews in Austria, and that my professional expertise is working with Holocaust survivors and their families -- let's agree that we can continue conversing with the assumption that I most likely have considered the scourge of antisemitism and understand it's a worldwide and centuries-long phenomenon.

Believe it or not, you have not just introduced me to the topic.

People are stupid.

Had to share!

This was a sign outside of an Allied (either British or American, obviously) army base in Austria along the road through the Russian zone to Vienna. It was probably a joke, but it really existed. 

Quote of yesterday!

I enjoyed this little gem, found while reading over analysis of various Austrian press in the very early 1950s. An article written by the editor in chief of the Salzburger Nachrichten in April 1951 defends violence used against Jewish demonstrators protesting a film showed at a Salzburg movie house. [The film, “Immortal Sweetheart,” was produced by Veit Harlan, who also produced the infamous “Jued Suess.”]

His article portrayed the Jewish protesters as dupes from the nearby DP camp, controlled by Communist organizers. He said,

“It is not good for the Jewry that they appeared in company of the Communists. Of course the inhabitants of Salzburg must learn to understand that people living in camps are likely to be demoralized. The camps are a calamity, but we Austrians are not responsible.”

Quote of the day

Reading an article about Jewish Vienna, the author describes meeting a Georgian-Jewish shop owner in the 1. District. The man explained that he's active at more than one synagogue in Vienna, and also stated that he had been reluctant to stray from his Orthodox roots, but:

"...just last week, he ventured into a Conservative synagogue. 'And you know what?' he exclaimed, 'I liked sitting next to my wife.'”

The complexity of my dissertation topic - in a nutshell

I recently met one of the most impressive and energetic women I've come across in all my years of working with Holocaust survivors. She is 92, lives alone, seems to be in great health, and is mentally quick and alert. She organizes weekly museum outings and social gatherings for friends, reads multiple papers, watches all the world news, and is on top of it all in a way I could never hope to be. She moves around the city, engaging and experiencing. I hope I am like her in some small way when I am that age. Hell, I hope I am like her NOW!

I won't use her name, but it's important to know that she returned to Vienna after the war from London as a communist, coming to take part in rebuilding a democratic Austria. I interviewed her last week and when I asked her, after 4 hours of very deep and in-depth discussion, to boil it down and answer the main, big, simple, break-it-down question - WHY DID YOU RETURN TO LIVE IN VIENNA? - she said:

"Why did we return? Because we were naive. We thought they wanted us, needed us. HA!"

I asked her if she'd ever thought of leaving and going back to England or to the US where she has family. "Not at all."

So, there it is, folks. Survivors came back to a place that did not welcome them nor expect them to return. They were slapped in the face with this reality very quickly upon arrival...but they'd never think of living anywhere else. And that is what I have to explain.

Oy vey.

Getting a little darker?

I've been thinking lately about sharing some of the things I am finding in my dissertation research because: (a) I want to scream to the world, "what the fuck?!" (sorry, Mom) when I read some of it, and (b) it helps to process. People also seem to be interested in some of it, so why not? You don't HAVE to look at my blog.

So, my dear 2 readers...I may intersperse horrific archival findings with my fun/funny stuff, too. If you know me, then you know that maybe this can work, too!

The Hoff is Back!

Needs no caption!

I love old people!

The other day in my English conversation group at the senior daycare center at the Jewish nursing home, one of the sweet little old ladies said, "I am so very sorry, but I must say that I prefer the British English to the American. The accent sounds so much nicer." This woman survived the Holocaust in England, and her accent reflected it - very proper!

The woman sitting next to me had lived in NYC from the time she fled in 1938/39 until just a couple years ago, and sounds like a native New Yorker. She hadn't heard the comment and said, "EH?? What'd she say??"

I tried to smile through it and said, "Well, Frau XYZ doesn't much like our accent; she prefers the British." The NY-er -- in effort to persuade her friend to enjoy the American delivery, I guess -- looked the other woman in the eye and said, "TOUGH SHIT!"

Addendum to the Wiener post below

I just saw "The Social Network." The picture below has a whole new meaning. And appropriateness.

See the movie. It's good -- but be prepared to feel like a manipulated moron upon leaving the theater. Especially when you immediately pull out your cell to check Facebook.

This will never get old. Never.

This is the men's magazine in Austria.

I'm not kidding.

Fulbright starts Tuesday!

Fulbright orientation starts Tuesday. I'll be sitting in on mandatory introductory sessions that include:

* Living in Austria: The Challenges of Everyday Life

* Austria: A User's Guide: A few points of historical orientation that may be of use when dealing with the "natives" in the coming months

I am especially looking forward to the session entitled, "The Austrian Condition!"

So, it might not be the most relevant information for me, considering I have my own little lab rat at home (!!), but it will be nice to meet the other Fulbrighters and to learn more about their projects and work in Austria. I do, of course, have the continued insecurity about my age and that I'll simply be the grandma of the group. But, oh, well. The price I pay, I guess.

On the upside, I will finally get to the Melk Monastery, as we have a little Fulbright field trip on Friday! It's one of those places "you have to see before you die" -- an hour from our apartment and it's taken me 6 years and a group of Americans to get there!!

Back in Wienerland

And I am going to blog. I am.

To update my 2 followers (who already know this, but still...), I'm finally ABD after 3 years of more or less 3/4 time in the US and 1/4 time in Vienna. I arrived last Friday (17 Sept) and am here full-time, researching and - theoretically, at some point - writing my dissertation.

Horrifying - must read

Makes me want to write about the AMAZING experiences I have here with
"socialized" medicine (it's really not totally socialized in Austria, but
compared to the US - it's socialized and successful). EVERYONE GETS CARE,
there is none of this mythical "waiting time" those opposed always warn
about, and also none of the supposed high taxes.

If I were to consider my health care costs in the US as a "tax" as it is
here, Austria is cheaper. No question. Why can't we get it right?

Check it out:

http://healthcare.barackobama.com/stories

Only in the land of Freud?

My dentist advised me to see a therapist.

I went for a cleaning and to discuss what we might do about my adult-life-long problem of teeth grinding. He looked at my teeth, into my eyes, and wanted to discuss stress and alternative ways of handling it. He suggested psychotherapy.

Okay, this might be the answer for some teeth grinders. I am not at all opposed to therapy - I'm an MSW, for God's sake! I've sought it a number of times, and have seen therapists for long, ongoing periods of "treatment" in the past. I've never even had a real diagnosis - I just like therapy! So, no objection on principles here.

But my grandfather ground his teeth down to nothing, my dad grinds his, and I have inherited this lovely habit. I grind my teeth when I'm happy, sad, mad, jealous, giggly, dizzy, etc.

I've ground my teeth when I've visited Auschwitz, and I ground my teeth on my honeymoon in the Maledives.

I just do it, and it's horrible, and it's wearing down my teeth. I need to do something about it.

But for now, I just wonder, since when do dentists seriously advise therapy??

It reminded me of when I went to my hair stylist about 3 months ago with below-the-shoulder-length hair and asked for a pixie cut. He stared into my eyes, got really serious, and said, "Honey, are you going through a divorce? Because therapy is usually better than doing something you'll regret tomorrow!"

Somehow, I take my hair stylist's referral to a therapist better than I take my dentist's!

Fund for Officer Johns' Family - please consider a donation!

The other day I posted about Officer Johns, the security officer at USHMM who was killed by a white supremacist. Link

The U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum has established a special fund for the benefit of Officer Johns' family.

Checks payable to, "USHMM Officer Johns Family Fund" may be mailed to USHMM, 100 Raoul Wallenberg Place, SW, Washington DC 20024.

You may also contribute by calling toll free 877-91USHMM (877-918-7466) or online at http://web.ushmm.org/officerjohns/

Please consider donating to benefit his wife and young son!

German woes

I was standing in the Vienna subway recently, reading a poster about Sprachreisen ("language trips") for university students, and absently thought to myself, "Yeah! That's what I need! To take a 'sprachreise' to a German-speaking country!"

Uh, I live in Austria.

(Of course, Germans - and I - might debate that this is a German-speaking country, but that's another post altogether...)

Anyway, my frustration indicates a few things - first, the high level of most Austrians' English. When they hear my accent, they switch automatically, to be helpful. But that's not helpful! My spoken German now fluctuates between insecure-but-functional to speaking only with verbs!

This also indicates how weak I am. I don't push on in German, as I should. I see my Austrian friends a couple times a year and don't want to "waste" time speaking slowly in German to get practice - I want to see them and catch up with them and laugh and tell jokes and understand subtleties. They aren't my guinea pigs - but I guess they should be.

But to go back to my moment of insanity - I was reading a sign IN GERMAN. I read German fine. What happened to my speaking abilities?! When I left Austria, I was confident with my spoken German, and worried about my reading. Now, it's reversed. I seem to have left speaking skills somewhere between Worcester and Sterling.

Today, I browsed the webpage of Middlebury College's world-famous language summer schools.

http://www.middlebury.edu/academics/ls/german/

"That's what I need!" I thought, "6 weeks of German language instruction in Vermont!"

Oh, my God...

All my dreams, handed off to an ungrateful teenager??

Austrians often keep leases in the family for years and, as children grow up, pass them on. It's not unusual to keep grandma's (or great-grandma's) apartment in the family, sublet it here and there, and then take it back when needed.

Okay, I'm aware of this, and knew it when we signed a sublease a few years ago...but the idea that someday my apartment will be some college student's "WG" (Wohngemeinschaft, or "flat share," I guess they'd say in England? or "group house/apartment" in DC.) makes me insane!

We knew our landlord was holding onto the apartment for his daughter when she goes to university, but on the rare occasion that we realize that we won't live here forever, I get all fired up. It is so perfect...amazing neighborhood (Servitenviertel, in the 9th District - 10-15 minute walk to downtown), all windows overlook a quiet, tree-filled courtyard that is HUGE...seriously, the only noise we hear when the windows are open are birds...huge rooms, high ceilings, altbau, tiny balcony, huge bathroom with tub...I could go on and on...I LOVE this place. (Okay, it could use one more room and a real terrace, but in this neighborhood?? I won't push it.)

It is, in short, the actual apartment of my live-abroad-in-cultured-old-Europe dreams.

And some teenager is allowed to come in and install loftbeds and invite 6 of her closest friends to move in, and put a picnic table in the living room and never clean and let dishes pile up, and have random sex in my bedroom, do bong hits in my bathroom, sell drugs and weapons from my foyer, plan terrorist attacks in my kitchen...okay, I've gone too far, but you can see how much it means to me. (You could actually SEE it, too, if the Stasi...oh, I mean Roland...didn't censor my blog postings!)

Anyway, our landlord just came over and extended our lease for another year (summer 2010) and most likely another year after that, to be confirmed this fall. This is perfect...well, perfect would be summer 2012, when I supposedly will finish my dissertation and go on the job market. Who knows where we'll be after that...but, until then, I want to stay here, in my dream apartment. No teenagers!!!

Officer Stephen T. Johns

When I log on to my computer, The Washington Post website comes up as my homepage. I usually skim the headlines a little more quickly than I'd like or than I should, and move on to whatever I'm working on - or whatever I am using to procrastinate doing what I'm working on.

But today it keeps popping up with pictures of old colleagues and friends. I can't stop reading the articles about the horrible events at the US Holocaust Memorial Museum, scanning the pictures, and reading the loving words of coworkers as they rave about Officer Johns.



Officer Stephen T. Johns was the brave security officer who died yesterday, protecting visitors and employees.

Despite being gone nearly 5 years, I am still so connected to the place and the people, and they actually keep me connected. An old colleague and friend at USHMM, Allen Burcky, spoke to The Post in the article linked above. He said "that workers there considered each other 'like family'" and I agree completely. I can't imagine making friends in any other workplace like I made at USHMM. Martin is still "my boss" to me, Leslie is not only one of my best friends but still a "coworker," and that place is still "my work." I can imagine how the place must feel after yesterday's events and also how everyone pulls together at the loss of a "family" member.

Officer Johns will be sorely missed, and I trust honored for his service and bravery. I only wish there was something I could do. But what can one do at an occasion like this? I guess continue on with my work, knowing there's obviously a need...but that seems so cliche and empty and self-important, at least now. I guess I'll just be sad at the tragic loss of a colleague.

Trying to be green makes me brown

It's pretty easy to recycle and be "green" here in Vienna, as there are recycling bins for glass, plastic, and cans on every corner. Plus, we have a paper recycling in the foyer of our building. You can even recycle biodegradable waste, and I've always aimed to try it. Roland's not so keen on decomposing vegetables on our kitchen counter, so I never went all the way.

I did recently try something I read in a magazine. "Coffee grounds are a great anti-cellulite rub!" Uh, yeah...I saved grounds for a few days, then tried it...my legs are now the color of coffee and it's not coming off! Maybe this is a cheap fake tan, but I look ridiculous and lumpier than ever!

Something you may not see everyday, but I do!

What, you wonder?

Why, Nazi flak towers, of course!





These monstrosities are permanently located in the Augarten, a beautiful French baroque style park in Vienna's 2nd district. I love this place - it's full of kids playing soccer, families wandering around, joggers, and even people hanging out and eating and drinking at small cafes.

The towers are definite eyesores, but can't be destroyed because exploding or imploding them would damage the neighboring houses. So, they stay, and you kind of get used to them.

It's my favorite place to jog in Vienna, and I always enjoy seeing the Muslim women also running in full hijab, Orthodox Jewish women walking and talking, and little Turkish kids playing soccer. The Augarten is located in the traditionally Jewish district of the city, and it's also home to many immigrants.

The irony is beautiful - so many of the city's "non-Aryans" playing, relaxing, and enjoying themselves in the shadow of things designed to help defend the Reich from the Untermenschen. Priceless.