It has been snowing almost constantly for the last 48 hours. There's an accumulation of a foot, more or less.
No workplaces have closed and I have had to go to school everyday - all this on time, no less! Streetcars seem to work just as well, everyone is still driving on the roads. Nothing seems to have changed with the snowfall.
What's up with that? Don't they know that governments close down for 3 or more inches of snow? No one's supposed to go to school in these conditions! What do little Viennese children have to look forward to, if not snow days? Jeez - and they say Americans are all work...
Thursday, February 17, 2005
Tuesday, February 08, 2005
Expat Moment #4798
Ich hätte gern Briefmarken, bitte...ich hätte gern Briefmarken, bitte...ich hätte gern...This is me walking down the street, preparing to enter the post office to buy stamps. "I would like some stamps, please." Anytime I enter an Austrian shop, I practice the conversation I intend to initiate upon entering. Of course, this always goes the wrong way. The cashier asks questions I am not prepared for, I am thrown for a loop and get flustered, often too flustered to recover. In the case of the post office, though, I can usually hold my own. The other day, I entered the post office, repeating this over and over in my head and with lips moving. I approached the counter and automatically spit it out, only to be told that I had just asked for stamps in a bank. Yes, Najuma, I did it again. And, yes, that means I did it once before. I would post examples of the bank and post logos but then you would see exactly how ridiculous this mistake was, expat or not.
Friday, February 04, 2005
"Excuse me!"
A word to the wise - while living in a heavily Catholic country, do not attempt grocery shopping on a Sunday. No stores - none - are open Sundays. Now, there are many evils of capitalism but one of them is not that one shop can all day, every day. In Austria, they seem to attempt an observance of some form of a Sabbath. They still want to spend quality time with their families on the weekends. They’ll learn. Americans know there's ample time for worship, family togetherness and the mall. Not necessarily in that order.
I learned this important lesson the hard way on my first full day in Vienna. Roland and I arrived in our new home on a Saturday and collapsed with exhaustion, sleeping all day and through the night. We awoke, ravenous, to an empty refrigerator. We needed to shop for food on a Sunday.
Exactly what does one do in this situation? Obviously, one goes to the train station! You see, the above is not 100% true as, by law, train stations in Austria must have stores that stay open to provide things a traveler might need. Major train stations in the city - there are approximately three - have small grocery stores that are open on Sundays to sell only those things for travelers. That means the toilet paper is blocked off and you can’t buy things like laundry detergent. Items like these are literally locked up. You cannot get to them.
Every Sunday, half of the Viennese population competes with one another to get in the tiny doors of these three, tiny stores. At least, they are tiny when compared to the Super Giant. It was during a rude awakening to this small gap in Western capitalism that I also learned another tough lesson. As over a hundred people competed with me for the last box of corn flakes, I saw that there is no Austrian custom of saying “Excuse me.” Not on the occasion of getting by another shopper, not to grab something off the shelf, nor to cut another off in line. I am used to the most polite of all shoppers - Americans. We excuse ourselves each and every time we come within 25 feet of another human being. When you are used to this, Sunday grocery shopping in Vienna tends to feel as if a bunch of angry, mean people are pushing past you to get to the tomatoes.
When one travels, it is always wise to learn a few important words in the language of the country you intend to visit. At least, “please” and “thank you.” As an American, I always assumed this list of essentials would include one more phrase, “Excuse me.” So, way back when, I learned the three most important German words first - bitte (please), danke (thanks) and entschuldigung (excuse me). Yes, entschuldigung. I am keenly aware of how often I say “Excuse me,” as I let loose with this tongue-twister about 75 times a day. I feel like I have Tourette Syndrome. And the Viennese look at me as if I have Tourettes, too. They are not used to someone excusing themselves to walk in front of another on the train platform or to take a seat next to them at the bar. They don’t feel a need to say “Entschuldigung” when reaching for a book on a shelf. They surely do not excuse themselves to butt in line. But that’s another story.
Of course, none of this was any shock to Roland. He’s used to it; he grew up here. He’s having fun teaching me the ways of the road in his hometown and also enjoying the opportunity to learn what proves difficult in the international transition. A deeply ingrained, apparently American, assumption about “politeness” and the definition thereof is one of my sticking points.
On this particular Sunday, beyond the fog of jet lag and the overall goodness-filled satisfaction of newly-wedded bless, I sensed the first twinges of cultural difference. In reality, the Viennese must not be as angry as they seem in a grocery store. I am sure they also aren't mean. But why don’t they say, “Excuse me?” It seems so easy, so polite. What is the Austrian idea of politeness and honest communication between shoppers in a grocery store, passers-by on the street or neighbors waiting for the same train? I am still searching and learning but it seems that there is, in fact, almost no communication between strangers in public. It is not a time for small talk or chit chat. No one is sharing cooking secrets. It will take a while to get used to the idea that, in fact, “rudeness” and “politeness” are relative terms. In the meantime, I will just be sure not to search for inter-cultural togetherness in a train station grocery store on a Sunday.
I learned this important lesson the hard way on my first full day in Vienna. Roland and I arrived in our new home on a Saturday and collapsed with exhaustion, sleeping all day and through the night. We awoke, ravenous, to an empty refrigerator. We needed to shop for food on a Sunday.
Exactly what does one do in this situation? Obviously, one goes to the train station! You see, the above is not 100% true as, by law, train stations in Austria must have stores that stay open to provide things a traveler might need. Major train stations in the city - there are approximately three - have small grocery stores that are open on Sundays to sell only those things for travelers. That means the toilet paper is blocked off and you can’t buy things like laundry detergent. Items like these are literally locked up. You cannot get to them.
Every Sunday, half of the Viennese population competes with one another to get in the tiny doors of these three, tiny stores. At least, they are tiny when compared to the Super Giant. It was during a rude awakening to this small gap in Western capitalism that I also learned another tough lesson. As over a hundred people competed with me for the last box of corn flakes, I saw that there is no Austrian custom of saying “Excuse me.” Not on the occasion of getting by another shopper, not to grab something off the shelf, nor to cut another off in line. I am used to the most polite of all shoppers - Americans. We excuse ourselves each and every time we come within 25 feet of another human being. When you are used to this, Sunday grocery shopping in Vienna tends to feel as if a bunch of angry, mean people are pushing past you to get to the tomatoes.
When one travels, it is always wise to learn a few important words in the language of the country you intend to visit. At least, “please” and “thank you.” As an American, I always assumed this list of essentials would include one more phrase, “Excuse me.” So, way back when, I learned the three most important German words first - bitte (please), danke (thanks) and entschuldigung (excuse me). Yes, entschuldigung. I am keenly aware of how often I say “Excuse me,” as I let loose with this tongue-twister about 75 times a day. I feel like I have Tourette Syndrome. And the Viennese look at me as if I have Tourettes, too. They are not used to someone excusing themselves to walk in front of another on the train platform or to take a seat next to them at the bar. They don’t feel a need to say “Entschuldigung” when reaching for a book on a shelf. They surely do not excuse themselves to butt in line. But that’s another story.
Of course, none of this was any shock to Roland. He’s used to it; he grew up here. He’s having fun teaching me the ways of the road in his hometown and also enjoying the opportunity to learn what proves difficult in the international transition. A deeply ingrained, apparently American, assumption about “politeness” and the definition thereof is one of my sticking points.
On this particular Sunday, beyond the fog of jet lag and the overall goodness-filled satisfaction of newly-wedded bless, I sensed the first twinges of cultural difference. In reality, the Viennese must not be as angry as they seem in a grocery store. I am sure they also aren't mean. But why don’t they say, “Excuse me?” It seems so easy, so polite. What is the Austrian idea of politeness and honest communication between shoppers in a grocery store, passers-by on the street or neighbors waiting for the same train? I am still searching and learning but it seems that there is, in fact, almost no communication between strangers in public. It is not a time for small talk or chit chat. No one is sharing cooking secrets. It will take a while to get used to the idea that, in fact, “rudeness” and “politeness” are relative terms. In the meantime, I will just be sure not to search for inter-cultural togetherness in a train station grocery store on a Sunday.
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