New York City

In case anyone was worried that I never made it home, I am here to trounce that thought.
New York City's a strange place that seems to not have changed at all in the past four months. I'm not sure if I changed - everyone that has anything to do with study abroad is always saying "Oh man...the real transforming aspect of studying abroad hits you upon arrival in your home town/city." I've definitely had lots of amazing walks since I got back but I'm not so sure that I can say I'm a different fellow. I must give a wee little recap of the last few days in Vienna because, my oh my, were they eventful.

Other than saying all the necessary goodbyes, I got pickpocketed by a nice and drunk Turkish man, waited in Vienna's gross airport for 8 hours, got to my home in New York City without my luggage. To this day and very moment, 5 days after landing, I am still without that very luggage. Ouch, you may say. Ya. OUch. OUch Ouch. I blame the Austrian airline people, the Iberia airline people, the Swiss air people, and the intolerant Viennese. Ugh to all of them. Give ME BACK MY SON (LUGGAGE). http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lztwjgD10Yw

How can you not love Mel Gibson? He's so dreamy and sooooo sweeeeeet.

It's over ladies and gents

I'm coming back ya'll.

On my way to Vienna (in JFK), I wrote on a piece a paper the following:

 ***

The journey begins!
As I sit in this moderately comfortable airport seat I wonder where I'll be 24 hours from now, a week from now...a month from now.
I stare at the many families walking and gliding to their gate. Hebrew, French, every language is spoken in airports.
Oh...sure hope I don't get a stomachache on the airplanes.
That's all for now, ladies and gents.
Take care of the United States for me,
Daniel

***

The next morning (on the plane from Zurich to Vienna), I wrote:

***

Boarding Austrian flight to Vienna. Made a few (fellow IES folks) ((the trio and Drew Bernard)). Guess what's being played as I write...Johann Strauss' "On the Beautiful Blue Danube" Waltz. How fitting, eh?

Viddy well and talk to ya in Vienna!

Danieljreilkasd;a

***

Little did I know I'd have to listen to that piece of crap every day on the way to schooly wooly in the U-baaahn.

Alright. I'm on the plane in 5 hours. Good night, good morning. See ya'll sooooooon

Crazy Dayz (daze)

I've been eating lots of mmm mmm good food, playing poker, getting the best hands and winning poker,  making latkes, seeing and hearing some jaZz - lying to trumpet players about who I study with, watching the Vienna Philharmonic rehearse as I sat next to retired Vienna Philharmonic french horn players, "studying" for finals, "preparing" for the final days, being a die-hard IES student while hanging out with all of IES in Australian bars in Austria, almost taking a train to Bratislava in the middle of the night, wandering about the many Christkindlmarkts running into Viennese people that I met in September, recording otherworldly percussive, improvised music in strange recording studio/houses in creepy neighborhoods, and of course watching some African men play pool at the local drugfront, Taste and See.

Yah, that's about it.

See ya Americans reaaal soon.

No more time

I believe that any blog posts I write in the next week or so are going to be rather brief. I've got a mere 9ish days left in this fair city so I don't plan on spending much time documenting my final days. So much time, so little to do...strike that, reverse it.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HTEh1A9Ur8E&feature=related

Shosta Wosta and oh so much more

Three nights in a row at the Konzerthaus...four Shostakovich symphonies, two of which were mighty creepy and depressing (last night) and tonight....Earth.....WIND......AND FIRE.

I had no idea what to expect seein' some funky dudes in a concert hall famous for classical music.
What I got was about 1500 fifty something year olds dancing to their favorite tunes from the 70s and 80s.

It was pretttay prettay different from Shostakovich's 14th and 15th Symphonies, I'd say.

D-D-D-Dmitriiii

Our second-to-last weekend in Vienna happens to be a Dmitri Shostakovich concert series at the Konzerthaus with the most Russian orchestra in the world: the Mariinsky Theatre Orchestra with Mista Valery Gergiev conducting.

After a fantastic day yesterday, with the LaRosa-Schweppe Concert and a hoppin' after-party at our Taste & See residence, a slow and easy day was definitely in store. The evening, though, was devoted to Shostakovich's 12th and 7th Symphonies. Simply ridiculous they were. Booming and bombastic.

I'm going to attempt to wake up early tomorrow to see his 8th Symphony. We'll see what happens.

See ya folks soon

Mr. Tchaikovsky

Hey, hey...don't get me wrong. I love Tchaikovsky's Fifth Symphony in E minor. It's great. I played it in high school. It's all great. However...

A little less than a month ago, the dudes and I went to see it performed by the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra at the Musikverein. Who knew? New Zealand's got a pretty good orchestra. The only problem with the concert was that it was completely sold out. Like true music lovers, we waited outside until intermission to sneak into the standing room. We met some nice British folk whose brother was the timpanist of the orchestra. Quite nice.

Tonight was a concert of a Weber overture, some songs from Mahler's Des Knaben Wunderhorn, and Tchaikovsky's Sixth Symphony. I got Lil Bare "Schweppe" to tag along. We had things to do before the concert so we decided to get there in time for intermission...yah, so we could sneak in. After a little confusion with a coat check lady, we made it up the stairs to the hall. Schweppe was pretty set on standing for the Sixth. I, on the other hand, was not. I had scoped out some seats that I saw on the video monitor in the lobby. We sat in those seats for the usual, uncomfortable 20-minute long intermission praying no one would kick us out. But our praying worked wonders. The ticket folks closed the doors. The orchestra came out on stage, and the long-haired conductor followed. We got ready. Tchaikovsky Numba Sixxxx. And the downbeat.........

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yI3ifmdPPJE&feature=related

Schweppe and I immediately exchanged befuddled looks. We had snuck into two different concerts at intermission and saw Tchaikovsky's Fifth Symphony both times without trying to (the second time). Not only that, both orchestras were unheard of. Tonight, we saw the Resident Orchestra based in the Hague (somewhere in the Netherlands). We both wanted to see and hear the Sixth, but were fine hearing the same piece within a month in the same exact hall. Yeahhhh oh yaaaah...they also played an encore. Of what you might ask? the last two minutes of the the fifth's finale. We heard those two minutes played three times.

Tomorrow's our big, big concert at IES.

Happy 2nd night of Chanukah,
L'Chaim folks

Those legendary pines

Maybe it's because I saw this performed at the Musikverein last night, maybe not.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fH4csOibl18&feature=related
I implore you to watch it. You'll be laughing, crying and grinning all the way through. For extra credit, watch the three movements prior (1/4, 2/4, 3/4).

Take care ya'll

I'm about due for a post

Yes, yes, it's been awhile...but I haven't been twiddling my thumbs in my room. I've been, as some like to call it, busy. Other than the IES-related events, schoolwork and happenings, my comrades and I have been living the Austrian life. I guess I don't have many Viennese stories of events that took place in the past week but I sure do have some others.

We had a nice and new Thanksgiving experience on Thursday. IES brought us all out to the outskirts of Vienna to Baden where we ate lots of pretty Americanish Thanksgiving food.

Now, the next day...Friday...we had planned to head to Salzburg for a day or two. We reserved a hostel in Salzburg for that Friday night but had not purchased any train tickets. Right before we left for Thanksgiving, the boys and I began talk of hitchhiking to the western city of Austria. Maybe I should leave out that "I" because it was really the boys who were considering it. Since there were five of us, they realized we'd have to split up into two groups; thus, the hitchhike turned into a hitchhiking race. Ordinarily, I'd be up for something this ridiculous but I was hesitant for a few legitimate reasons. The first was that the forecast was snow/rain in Vienna and Salzburg all weekend. The second was that we were going to attempt to find Gustav Mahler's summer house in the middle-of-nowhere-Austrian-countryside on Saturday. The third, well, for those of you who don't know, Salzburg is about 310 kilometers away from Vienna. Despite my doubts and little desire to hitchhike, the others were as excited as little schoolboys on a snow day.

Thursday night and early Friday morning were devoted to making "Salzburg" signs. Chris and I, the unmotivated group, took no part in making signs. About 7 hours later, we were up and about leaving 28 Liebhartsgasse. The others, Schweppe, Stones and Adam, were left in the apartment scrambling to get their stuff together. As we neared Wien Westbahnof, our plan was to take the fast train all the way to Salzburg. We didn't realize it until about half past 9, but we ran to buy tickets and we raaan to the train that....oooooh....was just pulling away. After a moment or two of despair, we started to think about the others, the troopers who were dead-set on hitchhiking across the country. We then went outside the train station and took a stab at hitchhikin'. After about a half hour of no success, I lost steam, but Chris did not. He kept at it until a blue Volkswagon pulled up. In it was an elderly couple. Seconds later, we were in their car heading toward Salzburg. How bout that? Unfortunately, I don't have much time at the moment I must start speeding this story up.

The couple was an Austrian/Italian one. Stefan was an Austrian economist and Maria was a shoemaker from Bari, Italy. They were lovely folks and it was a smooth and snowy ride.

Upon arrival in Salzburg, Chris and I sped walk to the hostel hoping the dudes didn't beat us there. They sure didn't. In fact, they were not even halfway there. Before Chris and I left to see the town, I ran out to purchase a few Ices to welcome our pals into the room. At around 6 or 7pm, they had arrived. They weren't too happy with the Ices but they were happy that we had all made the 300 km trek. That night was an early one after having a few snowball and pillow fights prior to our Italian dinner.

The next morning, we saw the city once more except this time it was as picturesque as can be. At around noon, we embarked on our journey to Mahler's summer house in the middle of the Austrian countryside. Perhaps it was my pessimistic ways, but I did not believe we were going to make it there with ease. I was dead wrong. It took just about two hours, one of which I spent listening to the music Mr. Mahler composed while at the very house we were soon to be standing outside of. The bus that we took dropped us off about 10 meters away from Mahler's front door. 

Icing has recently become a theme of our daily life. Adam is our prime target. We got him as he slept on the bus, but thought it'd make for a nice picture with the Alpine mountains the background.

Behind his house, oddly enough, is a bunch of trailer homes; but, among those trailer homes was Mahler's legendary composing hut:

Those footsteps? Yeah...they belong to the dudes and I. Inside that little hut is a baby grand piano. That's about all Gustav needed to compose his epic Second and Third Symphonies.

After taking in the Mahlerian history surrounding us, our stomachs grumbled. The only problem was that we were truly in the middle of the Austrian countryside in the early winter when nothing is open. We asked a townswoman if anything was open. She let out a chuckle, but she also told us of the only place open - a restaurant that was 4 kilometers into the base of the Austrian Alps. We had almost four hours until our bus back so we started our walk. Early on in the walk, we met a woodsman - yes a woodsman. He was a man with lots of wood and an electronic saw. He asked (in German) if we'd like to help. As you can tell, our group is all about fun stories so we agreed instantly. His advice was to go eat and drink lots of wine, then come back and help him because we'd be much stronger. That sounded a-okay to us. The walk was just about as gorgeous as one can imagine. Just as we began regretting the decision to walk, we stumble upon the restaurant. I don't believe there were any pictures taken of it, but it was actually at the very base of the menacing snowy mountains. The food was delicious and the Glühwein was piping hot.

The snowy walk back was a little colder and much darker but still incredible. Somehow, we made the correct bus back to some Austrian town. There, we got on another bus filled with some Austrian countryside ghetto high schoolers, and this took us all the way back to another Austrian town where we hopped on the train to Vienna. Everything had worked perrrfectly. Aside from a few crazies on the train, our ride home was delightful and as music-nerdy as possible. If you'd like me to expand on the crazies, let me know.  Nah...I'll expand on them right now:
 
The five of us got on the crowded train and were forced to search for five seats together. We soon gave up on that so Drew and Chris found two seats together. That left Adam, Stones, and I to find a few others. We found a compartment with a few empty seats, but Stones was pretty set on finding a completely free room. After a minute or two of settling into my semi-comfy seat, he called us into the compartment next door. In it, was one man. This one man smelled like fifty homeless people eating sardines and gorgonzola cheese in a sauna. But hey, it was too late to back out now. I sat one seat away from him hoping he wouldn't breathe on me too much. In his hand, he had a cheep Austrian beer can which he proceeded to chug. Within a few seconds, he was off talking (crazy crazy German) to Adam and I. Adam was a tired little boy at this point, so that left me to pay attention to this insane fellow. Even after he realized I had no idea what he was saying, he continued to babble on. I tried desperately to pick up any words I knew out of the cacophonous, incessant mishmash of sounds and noises that came out of his decaying mouth. When Stones returned from scoping out any free seats, he unfortunately had to sit right next to this crazy, crazy man. Luckily (unluckily), Stones has the most German out of all of us so he made a nice effort to figure out what this man was saying. All we could understand was that he was trying to tell us there was another man sitting in our compartment who was "crazy." This nutso man was telling us some other guy was crazy. That other man ended up coming in for a little bit - he did talk to himself a little bit, but that's fine compared to this gross, black-nailed Austrian. Stones took out a book to read, but our new friend continued his blathering. After ten or fifteen minutes of this, the ridiculous man and his less-ridiculous pal got there stuff together and left the train. Thank the Lord.

Back to the trip as a whole, listening to Richard Strauss's Alpine Symphony could some our 36-hour adventure up...to an extent. For the real thing, just ask one of us. It was incredible.

Wien, Wein und Käse (Vienna, Wine and Cheese)

Eyoaa,

With just under a month left in this fair city, it is certainly time to start savoring my time here. I think I did the past two days.

After a half-full German class on Friday morning, I took a trip to the National Library of Vienna where I turned into a little musicologist.

It was nice, I guess.

For the evening, my apartment folks and I had planned and wine and cheese party. What a smashing success. At the peak of the party, I'd say there were about 20-25 bottles of wine ranging in color from white to yellow to orange to rose to red - I kid you not. The next morning, maybe 5 were left.

At around 3pm that day, I realized I should probably leave the apartment before it got dark outside. So I grabbed a jacket and headed to the Musikverein where I heard Beethoven's glorious Fifth Symphony. Uh huh, I heard the Vienna Philharmonic under the direction of Christian Thielemann perform possibly the most famous eight notes in classical music: in case one of you readers doesn't know what piece I'm referring to - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SExR2h20HlQ&feature=related. Oh right. I arrived at the Musikverein a few minutes before the intermission...for a reason - to sneak in and hear the Fifth. Now...I'm one who gets the shiver down the back about once every concert. This concert, I may have gotten the most chilling, shivery whoosh up and down my back at this crucial moment http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rrEzvGQeHTg&feature=related. Not bad for 0 Euros, 0 Dollars.

I then left the Musikverein to find some friends to gallop through the Christmas Markets with. I ate some delicious baked potato and ham and cheese and stuff there. At 6:30ish we had to jet through the markets to the Konzerthaus for a Brad Mehldau/Joshua Redman concert. Of course...we didn't really have tickets - we were hoping to get some seats that the rich folks donated back to the box office. As I stood at the front of the line, a man came up and handed me a ticket and said "I guess you guys are waiting to buy tickets. Take this one - I got one too many. Enjoy the concert." Must've been my English-speaking charm...whatever it was, it got me a perfect seat in the Konzerthaus and I watched Brad Mehldau and Joshua Redman jam out for a good two hours.

Two unbelievable concerts, no money spent.

Howdy Hi HO

Ey ey ey. I cut my first class in Vienna last week. It was a class about Beethoven's Eroica. I believe the professor focused on Napoleon so I decided to relax at home and get other work done. I also didn't really feel like going because I had gone to the gym earlier that day. You might know me as the scrawny little boy who can't lift more than 150 pounds...not anymore. I am as brolic and buff as http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FOlJixJAhPM&feature=related (that guy). No, no...I went with the Schweppe and Adam because they have memberships at a gym. It had been quite some time since I last worked my legs on the leg press. It felt oh so good.

Moving right on, last night was incredible. I didn't expect it to be much when I was cooking me some Penne a la Rutkowski. But when I brought my fork down in a stabbing motion, I heard someone cry out "Daniel, stop cooking." It was Señor Chris. *Going back to the fancy IES 60th anniversary party on Friday for a quick second...while mingling at the reception, my friends made friends with an elderly couple. Apparently they hit it off so well that they planned a dinner date sometime this week. In fact, it was to be last night. Now because Adam was already busy last night, lucky me got to go in his stead. So Chris bundled up and I bundled down (as you folks well know) and we set off. I could not wait to have dinner with a mysterious old couple that I never met. 

I was very curious as to what we were going to talk about for the duration of dinner. By the end of the night, though, all I wanted to do was talk to these two folks four five more hours. Their names were Jane and Walter. Jane's an American who came to Vienna through IES in 1951. While here, she met Walter (I believe a Slovenian or German or Austrian man). We went to a rather famous Heuriger (wine cellar/restaurant) named Esterhazykeller. One of the many fascinating stories told by Walter was a tale that took place at one of those tables where a once anti-semitic friend of his stood on a table and apologized to everyone in the restaurant for the doings of the Nazis. Another Nazi-related story he told his captivated audience made up of Schweppe, Chris and I was about how at the age of 10 or so, he touched once touched Adolf Hitler. I could be real mean and and leave that as ambiguous as possible, but I'd never do that. He was with his father who was a member of the Nazi party and at some event where Hitler drove past wee little Walter who had the foresight to touch the arm of The Mass Murderer. Pretty wild eh? We spent about three hours in that Heuriger sipping on delicious white wine, eating tasty Viennese meat and vegetables, and discussing our lives and aspirations. It was magical. They were so interested in a couple of American music-loving 20 year olds and we were so interested in their intriguing stories, lives, and environmental work. Yeah, that's right...they're a couple of environmentalists who live in Mariazell (in the countryside where I spent my first weekend abroad) and Vienna. I hope...we all hope to see them again.

Prost! Cheers!

Daniel

Party Hearty

Welly, yesterday was a day filled with parties or to be more precise, social gatherings.

It was IES's, my study abroad program, 60th anniversary. So the day began with a little shindig at our home Palais Corbelli. I ate lots a little hors d'oeuvres and drank lots of Orangensaft. I also chatted it up with some professors. Several hours later, there was another IES party, only it was a bit more upscale.

That's where it took place. It was half boring/half incredible. Many many IES alumni folks were there and spoke about how great studying abroad is. In the end, it made me appreciate this place all the more. After the ceremony-type thing and musical performances, we were all treated to lots of champagne, wine, and even fancier schmancier hors d'oeuvres. I should mention, myself and a few other friends went to this event without being officially invited. But my, am I glad we did.

After the lush, Baroque reception we scampered home to take a stab at making whiskey sours and entertain some Australians. They weren't bad at all. At around 11, 11:30, I have no idea, we set off on a journey to some IES gal's house in the 198028342309841902th district. I think it was actually the 19th but I cannot be sure. At this gal's house there was a nice big party. A party that reminded me of the good ol' high school days. Speaking of high school, at this mansion I ran into a girl there from my high school. Pretttay prettay pretttay pretty crazy eh? At some point, we decided to cab it home as we had no idea where we were. At another point maybe fifteen minutes later, we arrived back in our 16th district where we made a late night omelette and burnt potatoes. How bout that for a day of partying in Vienna...

Short an' Sweet

In between my Mahler class and Theory class, I went a nice brisk walk to the Belvedere.

Take care now, bye bye then.

Mein Gott

About a half hour ago, I was waiting for the 46 tram. I noticed a pigeon and crow get into a bit of a squabble. Before I knew it, the crow was on top of the pigeon pecking away. I was unaware that crows eat other birds...shows what I know. I watched in horror for a few minutes until the tram arrived. I realized I had an important decision to make - get off the tram and stick around for the end credits or stay on the tram and miss a whole bunch of the plot. I stayed on the tram just because I thought people would think less of me when I told them that I got off a tram just to watch an gruesome death. I regret my decision now. It was bizarre. Whenever the crow got a little distracted, the pigeon tried to get up but the crow was quick to place an even firmer grip on the weaker bird and said "Nein, you ain't never getting up buddy." I also noticed there was another crow nearby. I assume he/she was the lookout in case any other pigeons were lurking. You'd think I might have seen something like this in the past as I've lived in Stuyvesant Town my whole life. There you find pigeons and squirrels of every kind. I don't believe I've ever come across a dead anything...maybe a mouse or two, but that's all.

*******I'm adding this a few hours after writing the above story******

Only now at 7:15pm am I realizing that I could have and should have at least attempted to save the pigeon's life by running over and scaring away the bloodthirsty crows. But who knows, maybe the crows would've pecked me to death just like in some well-known film from 1963 that took place in the San Francisco Bay area...that's right, Bodega Bay. I may go live in Bodega Bay just for its name. Bodega Bay. Bodega Bay. Bodega Bay. Say it out loud right now. Bodega Bay.

**************

Now, I'm going to take this time to reminisce on a few days ago. I had just dropped my computer off at an Apple place and didn't have anywhere to be for an hour or two. I wandered around the Inner Stadt of Wien until I found a park by the Rathaus. That hour or so in the park was about as picturesque and reflective as can be. I sat with a pen and moleskin and stared into space. I watched some dogs fight over whatever, some birds fight over crumbs of bread, a little girl who did not stop jumping in a huge pile of leaves. The extraordinary peak did not occur though until a powerful gust of wind came blowing hundreds and hundreds of orange, yellow, green and red leaves off the branches and onto me they landed. How bout that, eh? So my computer's hard drive died...at least nature doesn't have any beef with me.


Somebody's got lots of work to do tonight and it may not be you.
IT's ME.


Yours ever so truly,
D-Man Vienna Lover

Mmmm mmmusic

I'd say Vienna's pretty great. Prettaaay pretttay prettay pretty great: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w8jx85_RyA8&feature=related.


I don't know what it was but about a week or two ago, my mood has changed considerably. There's so much to do...but not enough time. 


I now know one can go to a concert at the Musikverein at intermission then sneak into the standing room fo free.
I took part into two friends' choir rehearsals today. I'd say they were more than successful.
I also spent some time today with lotsa Austrians. My landlord here is an old Austrian man who loves jazz. I found this out a week or two ago when I was playing the trumpet in our living room. Herbert, the landlord, came into the apartment entranced by my awful playing. He was impressed and surprised that I played the trumpet...eh, he was probably more confused because I hadn't been living in the apartment since the beginning of the semester. Anyway, ever since that day Herbert stops by occasionally to say hello and talk jazz. About a week ago he invited me to sit in with his friend's band at a restaurant. 


Today was the day. As I approached the restaurant with my ol' trumpet gig bag slunk over my shoulder, I heard the band. I was more than blown away. I was expecting a dark and dingy bar type establishment with a decent piano player playing an out of tune upright piano, a trumpet player barely getting through tunes, a bass player who complained of callouses, and a drummer who couldn't keep time. What I got was a pretty killin' professional jazz quintet. The pianist was the youngest of the group and he may have been the most impressive. The bassist was great, the drummer was great, the leader of the group, the trumpet player who sported a Dizzy Gillespie-style trumpet as seen here, was also great.

The saxophonist was really great but not the friendliest of gentlemen. 
Back to the story, I stood in awe as I watched the band through the window for a few minutes. I considered forgetting the whole thing and running home to my mommy and daddy (Drew and Adam) but I gathered up the courage and waltzed into the restaurant. A wall of beautiful, hip jazz hit me as I entered - it was at that point when I knew I had made the right decision. I clutched my trumpet tightly as I anxiously waited my turn. The jazzmen swung and they swung hard. After a few songs, they took a break. I got a chance to talk to the bandleader for a bit and then badabam - the leader introduced a "Daniel from New York City" (that's about all I got from his fast-paced German. I then timidly counted off the tune whoosh - I was playing with some incredible Viennese jazz musicians in a smoky, cozy restaurant packed with head-bobbing, feet-tapping locals. I'd say that's some gooood juice squeezing. I don't know if it was my not very special trumpet playing, my little-boyish looks, or my New York affiliation but I believe the crowd liked me. 


That's all folks. Nighty night.

Ahoy there maties

I sincerely apologize for leaving you without a single blog post in a week or so.

I don't know what else to say other than, I've been bakiinnggg (waking ned devine reference)...no, no I haven't been baking. I've been real busy.

• One night, I ate dinner at a pay-what-you-wish Indian Restaurant. It was darn good.

• Another night was a Halloween to remember/forget/remember. Throughout that night, myself and the boys managed to make a pit stop at one particular kebab/pizza stand three times. That's three times in the course of five or six hours. 
• Ah, the cough that I had is still around but slowly going away. At an amazing rendition of Verdi's Requiem, I was forced to hold in another cough that almost brought me to tears. The Musikverein can't get to me though. I didn't let it out.
• Earlier that Requiem day, I was on the U-Bahn listening to the Requiem on my way to the big Friedhof (cemetery). On that train was a crying, possibly newborn baby. I don't know what it was but I didn't mind that balling baby. In a way it was sort of beautiful. It must've been a combination of the Requiem, the cemetery that I was going to, and my jolly mood. It was at that moment when I realized I sure do love this city.
• A few days ago, my computer's 4 and a half year old hard drive died. I guess it was about time. But hey, now I've got a hard drive with 10 times as many gigabytes as my old one. Never have I seen all of my 40,000 songs in iTunes. Soon, that will change.
• AH, last night I noticed some Christmas shopping stands. I don't know...it seems just a weeeeeee bit early. That is not to say I don't feel like a little giddy boy around holiday shopping stuff. 
• Tomorrow, I believe I'm going to stop by a cafe with a live little jazz band. I may sit in on a tune or two with them. I may not. We shall see.

We're about to hear these dudes and ladies play (the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra) some ol' Tchaikovsky Number 5 and Sibelius Violin Conchertoe. I'm very curious to see if people from that part of the world know how to play classical music. I'll let ya'll know.

Toodlez Bardians, Friends, and Family

All my very best,
Dannykins

"But hey, I'm just a little Jewish boy tryin' to make it here in Vienna"

"Halloween is coming by
See the witches and goblins fly
Oh me. Oh my.
Halloween is coming by"

Neighborhood School, we still love you.

In reality, Halloween is right now - it is today. It should be interesting to see Halloween in Austria. From what I've been told, they don't pay as much attention to the holiday as we Americans do. Still, it will surely be an experience.

Until the many evening events, I along with my housemate buds have been and will continue to perform the usual lazy Sunday morning/afternoon activities. 

This blog post could only have been written on a Sunday since I started it about 4 or 5 hours ago.

I can honestly say I have not watched the following in more than 10 years. Takes me back to the simple ol' days.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bz2Ho62dVr0

Enjoy your Halloween/Hallowien/Hello Vienna!

Mhmm...another concert

It may seem like the only events I participate in here are classical concerts, but I promise that is not true. Today I hiked through the Wienerwald (the Vienna Woods). It was actually the second time I walked through those woods but this most recent excursion was extra enjoyable and real purty. I felt like I was at Bard or my country house during the peakest foliage time possible.

However, I also went to another kararararazzy concert last night. Mr. Beethoven's Pastoral Symphony (how convenient, today was my pastoral day) which was nice but the conductor was way too reserved. But the second half? Mr. Stravinsky's Rite of Spring. That was just right. I was also a bit more comfortable for the Rite than the Pastoral since I stood for the former and sat for the latter.

 As I've mentioned in earlier posts, I'm what some may call a "seat-grabber" as in I look for empty seats in the concert hall while standing for the first half and then during intermission, I sit in any empty seat I find. Last night, I searched for two seats together, one for me and one for Chris. The two-seaters didn't' really work out so we were forced to split up. I told him to remain calm and to sit in the 15th row on the left. I scoped out a seat a little closer to the stage, but I worked my magic, cough and all. That reminds me, I've got an awful cough at the moment and that was no different last night. Throughout the Beethoven, I did a pretty decent job of holding my coughs in. The Stravinsky...ehhh.

Apparently, I didn't do too well as the man next to me never stopped taking quick glances at me.

SO HERE WE GO: Daniele Gatti, one of the leading conductors of the day and his Orchestre National de France sat and stood about 20 feet in front of me (a giddy little 20 year old who had never seen the Rite performed before). I won't go into too much description but there was a point about halfway through the Rite of Spring when I needed to cough, I had to, there was nothing I wanted more than to let out a gigantic "KAUGHHHHOIDASDJA." Unfortunately, I was sitting next to Meanie McGee so I knew that I couldn't cough or it'd ruin this guy's night. I kept it in. I may have turned red, I'm not sure. At one point, I couldn't take it - I did the unthinkable -- I took out a cough drop from my pocket. [quick dirty look from MM] My eyes began watering. My fists were clenched. I thought of happy thoughts, or at least, I tried to. I swallowed every second to try and rid myself of this deadly urge. At another point I may have clenched my fists a little too tight because Meanie McGee turned to me and gave my yet another dirty look. I can only wonder, though, what he thought when he saw me clearly in pain, seemingly in tears. Perhaps he thought it was the Stravinsky that moved me so. It surely moved me, but that's not what was causing my tears or the hellish, indescribable pain. Somehow, somehow, I survived and it turns out the Meanie wasn't actually that mean, maybe just a tad socially awkward (he also thought the Stravinsky was awful and the Beethoven was spectacular....idiot) - hey, we all have our boiling points and problems.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Aqpjf65FpV0&feature=related
Here's my entertainment for the evening. Ciao fah now, children and meine elders.

Yet Another Concert Tale

Two days ago was Austria's Independence Day so the Wiener Philharmoniker put on a concert of Dvorak, Brahms, and the French composer Henri Tomasi. All tickets were sold for 10 Euros so I had to go. Prior to the concert, a friend and I ate a couple nice and awful Falafel sandwiches that could not have been more disgusting. I don't believe there were any fried chickpeas anywhere in the sandwich.

We did make it to the Musikverein though and boy, it was an amazing concert. A few little Brahms diddies, Tomasi's Trombone Concerto and Dvorak's New World Symphony. That Dvorak though was incredible. I watched from the balcony above the orchestra once again except this time I got to see the entire brass section as well as the conductor's many facial expressions and over-the-top body movements. I also heard the conductor make numerous little noises at all the big moments. A little viiipp here and a big schhhhhhwwwwooooop there. I watched the clarinetist play his solos with dazzling precision and beauty. I heard the trumpets blast the unforgettable New World E minor theme. It was jussst great.

There were, however, a few oddities that I got to witness. The first took place before a single note was played. The Vienna Philharmonic tuned and then sat on stage in silence waiting for the conductor to appear. It felt like a minute or more but it may have just been 30 or 40 awkward seconds. The audience got a little uneasy, but Andriss Nelsons soon took the stage and all was good. The second oddity was a little odder. The entire orchestra sat on the stage in silence, this time with the conductor on his podium. It appeared that the principal bassoonist was not in his seat. The second bassoonist tried to get the conductor's attention and tell him not to start without his bassooning partner. I'm not sure if ya'll know Dvorak's 9th Symphony but you'll have to take my word for it, it'll sound weird with only one bassoon. So, the audience, orchestra, conductor, and I waited. We waited for this Vienna Philharmonic principal bassoon player to realize he was supposed to be on stage. Maybe a minute went by, like before it seemed like 10 minutes, but it was probably less than a minute. He finally runs onto the stage with his bassoon, clearly embarrassed, red in the face. Sits down, prepares his reed, clips the bassoon onto his neck strap, and assembles his music. He then turned his head and paused for a moment. WHHOOOPSsSyy DAISZZZZY. The man forgot his freakin' music. The poor, poor conductor was seconds away from starting the masterpiece after the first mishap. Now he was forced to wait some more as the forgetful man scooted off the stage, but not before knocking over a French hornist's music stand. The audience lets out some giggles, some chuckles, some Viennese "huhs?" I remember mouthing the words, "Whaaatt thheee helllll?" I couldn't believe it. This top-of-the-line, creme de la creme professional pulled a 9th grader move in one of the most prestigious concert halls with possibly the best symphony orchestra in the world. After another awkward moment, a moment in which I scanned the entire crowd looking at bewildered face after bewildered face, the now infamous bassoonist returns to the stage with his music in hand. He sits down once again and prepares himself for the Dvorak. It was about as shaky a beginning as can be (non-musically), and yet the orchestra played superbly. On each ticket the words "Konzert für Österreich" are printed. I felt like an Austrian in a Czech world for those 45 minutes. The ovation was, of course, ecstatic and as the principal bassoonist took his bow, he proudly held up his music and smiled.

The night before the concert, my friends and I had a night to remember. A quick summary to save you all some valuable internet time is the following: we met and left with a fellow IES student at our usual crappy bar and left after 10 minutes. We then met a Jamaican trumpet and guitar player on the U-Bahn and invited him to hang out with us. He accepted. So the group consisted of three of my housemates, my RA, his girlfriend, a friend of a friend, an IES friend we just ran into, and a total stranger. We stopped at a nice, quaint bar near our apartment. It was there that our new guitar/trumpet friend told Mr. Schweppe and I something we'll never forget. Turns out this guy was coming from a guitar lesson and his guitar teacher was once in jazz trumpeter Chet Baker's European band. For those who don't know, Chet Baker died in Amsterdam in 1988. His body was found on the ground in front of his hotel. Cocaine and heroin were found in his body. According to our new friend, his guitar teacher was asked to go with Chet Baker on that trip to Amsterdam. This guitarist decided he should kick his drug habit and not go with Chet. If he didn't, he probably would have witnessed Chet Baker take a hit of heroin, turn blue, open the window for some fresh air, then lose his balance and fall out of the window. He didn't commit suicide like many people have speculated. Yep, that's the true story that very few people know, but I'm telling you because you girls, boys, ladies and gentlemen deserve to know. After hearing this crazy story, the group retreated to our apartment for some cheap champagne and french fries. A jam session in our practice room ensued: two trumpets, guitar, and people banging away at the piano. We then headed to a true University of Vienna party with live bands and EVERYTHING. We met our Australian friend there, lost a friend's wallet, found our friend's wallet, moshed in a mosh pit full of Viennese college students, waited on bathroom lines, got a bloody nose, crowd surfed and ultimately, helped a friend carry a mattress found on the street to his apartment. I'd say that's one successful evening.
Till' next time,
Daniel S.R.

Two Concerts, One Evening

As ya'll know, there sure is a lot of music in Vienna - so much so that last night, there were four big musical events that I wanted to attend all happening at 7:30pm. What to do when Salome, Bartok's Concerto for Orchestra, a trumpet concerto concert, and a student concert at my "school" conflict with one another...

Konzerthaus Wien

Well, since trumpet concerto concerts are rare, I decided to go see the 27-year-old Austrian trumpet player play two concertos, one of which has been called the most difficult piece in the trumpet repertory. The young lad with the trumpet wore a ridiculous velvety maroon blazer in the small hall of the Konzerthaus. He played it and the other concerto quite well. A crazy 20th century piece for strings was thrown in between the two trumpet showpieces. The composer of that contemporary piece happened to attend the concert. He got up on stage after it was played and spoke to the intimate crowd and I for a lengthy ten minutes. I believe I would've been giggling and chuckling along with my Austrian audience members if only I understood what the man was saying.

At intermission, I made a quick decision - something I'm not known for. I bolted out of that Konzerthaus to the Musikverein to meet some pals and see Bartok's Concerto for Orchestra for the second time in Vienna.

Musikverein

I arrived not knowing if I'd have to buy a standing room ticket although the concert was almost half over. I watched the end of the first half on a TV screen in the lobby. All I could make out was a percussionist running around the front of the stage. I inferred that it was a somewhat recent Percussion Concerto. At intermission, I grabbed a little Musikverein concert schedule and pretended I was one of the many ticket-holders walking right past the ticket lady. I made it to the standing-room unscathed and found my pals. I considered standing for the 45 minute-long piece that followed, but not for long. I scoped the hall for empty seats. I instructed the pals, "If you don't see me up in the balcony in three minutes, call the police." Nah, I didn't say to call the police but I did say to meet me up there if I give the 'go' symbol. I found some empty seats right next to the magnificent organ. I gave the 'go' sign, they followed. We then experienced the Vienna Radio Symphony Orchestra led by a 30-year old baby (conductor) perform Bartok's magnum opus written in 1943 from up above. That's right, we were theoretically hovering above the orchestra. We managed to upset some people around us once they realized we didn't pay for those seats, in my case, I hadn't paid for any seats or standing-spots, but hey...those seats were going to go to waste. Forget about 'em. Eh?

This leads me to my next point. Having been in Vienna for about two months now, I have realized part of the study abroad experience or traveling in general results in agitating the natives. I'd say I infuriate about five to ten Austrians a day here. Sometimes I'm not exactly sure of the proper U-Bahn-riding etiquette. Perhaps I forget that I have to press a button to open the doors, maybe I'll stand in someone's way and won't realize people are asking me to move...things of that sort. Let me take it to the concert hall. I've been swiping people's unclaimed seats at the Musikverein which clearly irritates those around me, especially when I'm with my IES American friends who don't seem to know how to "fly under the radar" or "use indoor voices." Speaking of "indoor voices," one friend here in specific has a big problem with that practice. On the Straßenbahn (trams) and the U-Bahn, he doesn't seem to understand that commuters don't particularly care to hear an American college student speaking in English about vulgar or just plain dumb things. It is times like these when I pretend I'm not associated with the loudmouth-Sallys. In supermarkets, such as Spar and Billa and such, I prefer using a credit card instead of cash. The only problem with that is that I never know what the credit card swiper machine is telling me to do so within a few seconds a long, disgruntled line of Viennese people-in-a-rush forms behind me.

That's all for now. In a few hours I'm playing Dvorak's New World Symphony for two pianos for a friend's conducting lesson. At the same time, about twenty IES (MUSIC PERFORMANCE WORKSHOP) students get to attend the Vienna Philharmonic's rehearsal of Dvorak's New World Symphony a few blocks away at the Musikverein. If I was in the Music Performance Workshop or if I wasn't playing the piano for a friend, I'd be there. Ugh, IES.

German midterm tomorrow mornin'. Make a Friday evening toast for me if you can. I need all the help I can get to make Frau Schachermeier proud.

Enjoy your weekend,
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dG9tuuznL1Y
Dannykins

That Ol' Tristan Chord

I was standing in the midst of 150 or so sweaty, cheap Austrians and mainly (pardon my racist French) [Asian] tourists who have a knack for leaving the standing-room in between movements but mein Gott, it was surely worth it. The fateful chord pierced through the many heads and the big pillar in front of my eyes and ears ultimately landing in my beating heart. It then resolved...for a second or two. Then, it went on its merry Wagnerian way. Ah, it was simply wonderful. I said it before and I'll say it again: the Tristan Chord in the Musikverein with the Vienna Philharmonic. Perhaps if Mahler or even Wagner were the man on the podium waving a baton through the air instead of Maestro Franz-Welser Möst - the man who replaced Mahler's Ninth Symphony with Bruckner's Ninth Symphony (the other little diddy on the evening's program) although there is documentation of Möst talking about his love for that very Mahler No. 9. You perplex me, Mr. Möst. You, your Austrian accent, your funny little glasses, your curly gray hair.

Allow me to rewind just a bit: on my way to the above concert, I had a joyous itty-bitty encounter. Before I continue, I should note that whenever I'm out and about in this city I try my best to look like just another Viennese 20-year-old dude, as in I pretend I know the entire city, the expansive language, and the metric system like the back of my right hand. With that in mind, this is what happened, more or less:

YOUNG LADY

Entschuldigung.

[Excuse me.]

DANIEL

Ja...bitte?

[Yeah?]

YOUNG LADY

(impossible to understand German...) 

blah blah blah blah blah blah ich möchte naskjdhkaf kasd ja nein sdsnfbashfjklad ---

DANIEL

Uh, es tut mir leid. Ich spreche...kein Deutsch. 

[Uh, I'm sorry. I don't speak German.]

YOUNG LADY

Ah, uh okay...danke schön sowieso.....aber weißt Sie wenn dieser Zug fährt zum Museumsquartier? 

 [Ah thanks anyway.....but do you know if this train goes to Museumsquartier?]

DANIEL 

(All I heard was something about Museumsquartier which is a stop on the train that I knew of)

Ah, ja. Uh....ja, ja. Sie....kann die....U-zwei nehmen. Das...ist richtig.

[Ah, yeah....you can take the U2. This is right.]

YOUNG LADY

Ah, danke schön! 

DANIEL

Ja...(5 seconds later) bitte.

The point of that little dialogue? Well, I somehow gave a German speaker directions with my teeny weeny grasp of the language. 

Also of interest, I have successfully moved to the Ottakring apartment with all the boys. It's quite nice.

Toodle-ooo folks!

Let's go Yankees, Let's GO!

One of the tough things about being away New York City, New York State or even the United States of America is the inability to watch my beloved New York Yankees on a television screen when it matters most, during the fateful postseason. Yes, I could purchase an MLB.tv subscription type thing for 20 buckaroos. I believe that would let me watch each postseason game online, but I also believe I would have to watch them live - something I cannot do while in a country with a time difference of 6 or 7 hours ahead depending on the game being played in New York or Texas, respectively.

Another addition to my predicament is the very fact that for the most part the IES students here, many of which are music majors, are not into baseball, let alone the New York Yankees - I believe only two other students actually come from the city of New York. So, one imagine that I don't get the chance to talk to many people about the latest Yankee news. Well, about thirty minutes ago I was riding the U-Bahn as usual. On the train though, was a man sporting a Yankees jacket. My goodness, eh? I sized the man up and down trying to discern where this man came from. From his long, Austro-German-lookin' face and blond hair, I assumed he was no American. And because of that, I decided to give up on trying to talk to him. That is, until he got off at my station. So, there we were. One definite die-hard Yankee fan and one possible die-hard Yankee fan. We walked up the stairs, one by one like we were supposed to and then, in a quick boost of confidence, I let out a semi-loud, certainly audible "Go Yankees." I got...nothing. Shucks. I tried.

What else is new in Vienna? Well, I am moving. I was going to move on Friday. Then I was going to move today. Now, I believe I am moving tomorrow. We'll just have to wait and see if that happens. I'll be moving from the 6th to 16th district. How bout that?

A few days ago I was reading about Richie V. (Richard Wagner) and I came across something crazy: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wagnerian_Rock
Who knew? Not I. I think it says a lot about the genre since I've never heard of it and I'd be surprised if any of you have either.

It took me 20 years and a half to sit down and watch Steve Martin in his famous The Jerk role; nevertheless, I loved it. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AI8NuFAETMQ
Bernadette Peters even does a swell job of faking the right valves.

Good luck in all your endeavors, guys and dolls.
Chakachaka wing wang chitty chitty bang bang will there be enough,
Daniel

Common Sense by Daniel "Thomas Paine" Rutkowski

Hello pumpernickel pals,

Don't accept free apples from strangers in Vienna. Check that, don't accept any free fruit from anyone in Europe.
If you read the earlier post, you may understand what I'm alluding to. For the past several days, I've had some sort of stomach flu and I believe it all stemmed from an apple handed to me by a kind young lady. Don't trust kind young ladies, either. That's right - use common sense. When it comes to my illness though, I'd say I'm 70-80% recovered.

This week should be a crazy one. I may be moving to Ottakring. We shall see.

Hey...how about those Yankees, sweeping the Twins like they did just one year ago. Good for them. Good FOR them.

Take care purring kittens,
All the best,
Yours,
Clark Terry

Ich trinke Apfelsaft

It seems like Vienna's high-up intelligence agency people have been reading little Daniel's blog.
One night I talk about the lack of the law in the Musikverein. The next night I see at least 3 or 4 scary looking Viennese police checking out the hall at the Konzerthaus. Not bad. It was a splendid Mozartian and Mahlerian concert, by the way - even if it looked like the conductor was going to collapse at any point.

**

At the concert, I run into the usual suspects. Turns out the boys met a young lady on the U-Bahn and asked her to join them at the concert. She kindly accepted the invitation. After the concert, we paid her the favor in return and accompanied her to a little get-together at her brother's apartment where we played the "Spoons" drinking game without any drinking --- I'm not a fan of that game for a number of reasons. One of the IES Vienna staff members  once told us the students to "Squeeze the juice out of Vienna" by doing anything and everything here. Well, that's exactly what we did. We followed a stranger to an unknown neighborhood and hey, it turned out wonderfully.

**

Outside of the U-Bahn station that I frequent, Pilgramgasse, I've recently noticed lots of folks handing out pieces of paper and pens to the passersby. The past two days, there were no pens -- there were apples. I took an apple and a little pamphlet (on the front, it says "Auf die Plätze Fertig grün am 10.10.10 --- I suppose something's happening on October 10, 2010) today from a smiling stranger and subsequently ate that very apple. If I don't write a new post in the next few days, assume it's because of the apple.

**

I read something earlier about Mahler's 2nd - I included a bit of it in the post below this one. Apparently when Mahler was rehearsing the piece in France for its French premiere, Debussy and some of his French composing buddies came to watch. Then, in the middle of the second movement they walked out. Debussy said it was "too Schubertian." I don't care if you, the reader, has no idea who Franz Schubert or Gustav Mahler or Claude Debussy is but watch the below video for a few seconds and tell me if it sounds like it could've been written 200 years ago.

BYah boys and girls

Potential Terror Plot in Europe

Welly welly welly.

I know you may not believe dear old Daniel but while walking the streets, riding the U-Bahn, and stepping into some of the most gorgeous, old concert halls and buildings here in Vienna, the thought of a terrorist attack has come up in my mind numerous times. I might as well be completely honest with everyone and I hope I'm not jinxing it for Vienna, but if this terrorist attack were to take place in Vienna ---- well, then it'd be a wake-up call for this place. Perhaps its just my New York City, post-September 11th upbringing, but I wouldn't mind seeing a few more of these folks 

around this city --- particularly in or around the Musikverein, Konzerthaus, and Staatsoper. Bring all the big, scary Viennese bouncers from the Praterdome and all those other 20 Euro entrance fee clubs to the artsy places. Make them protect that art with their lives. Once again, I don't want to jinx anything but....sure glad I'm not in London or Paris.

I was at the Musikverein earlier tonight and I took note of an especially creepy, lurking, muttering-to-himself man. I haven't heard anything yet so I'm assuming the hall's still standing. I left that concert at intermission simply because I had just seen the piece they were about to perform a few days ago. As I stepped outside, I walked into a smoking circle of about 10 to 15 men in fancy schmancy tuxedos and tails. I'm going to assume those guys were members of the Tonhalle Orchester Zürich. Who knew? Orchestra musicians in Europe go out for cigarette breaks at intermission. I guess that makes sense when you take into consideration the fact that 25% of 15 year-old boys and 30% of 15 year-old girls are smokers in this country. Oh, but then again those guys are from Switzerland. Ouch. Well, they mainly speak German in Switzerland so my figures stand.

On a sports-related note, the Yankees have limped their way into the postseason. Hooray! Funny, so did the Minnesota Twins. Funny, the Yankees will be playing the Twins in the Division Series. Funny, last year the Yankees played the Twins in the Division Series. Funny, I believe Twins' fans are going to be extra hard on those Yankees after all the terrible umpire calls last year. We shall see, folks.

I leave you with this wonderful little diddy,
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pMINR-wQh1M
Also, who wants to hear what I believe heaven sounds like?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jeAw8ycjnro&feature=related
In particular, from 3:40 to 3:50.

Stay away from Europe, friends.
All the best,
DanielS.Rutkowski

3 nights, 3 concerts - I need a break

Tonight is the first night in four days that I am not sitting or standing in a concert hall.

I came to Vienna, yes for the European experience, but most importantly for the "shitload of music" (I quote my Bard College adviser, Christopher Gibbs) that engulfs even the "homeless" boy begging for Euros outside the Staatsoper.

In three nights, I saw Beethoven's glorious Ninth Symphony with not-so-glorious soloists as I've alluded to in an earlier post, Mahler's epic Second Symphony, and a Brahms Piano Concerto/Bartok Concerto for Orchestra concert. Now that I look at it, the three main works of each concert were enormous orchestral masterpieces that just happened to have occurred in chronological order. Beethoven's 9th being written in 1824, Mahler's 2nd in 1894, and Bartok's Concerto for Orchestra in 1943. The number of similarities between the first two is just humorous as they are many, but still the Bartok was an interesting and wonderful way to end the concert trilogy. One highlight that I must mention took place in the Mahler. The group was the Vienna Jeunesse Orchestra, a youth orchestra, that played quite well for what I assume were college-aged men and women. In the final movement, Mahler throws in one of his famous "offstage trumpet" sections. I had never seen this Symphony live so I'm unsure if it is always done the same way. In the Wien Konzerthaus on Monday, members from the onstage trumpet section left the stage to run to their offstage spots. Where did they all go? Some came up to the second balcony, some went to the first balcony, and two went up above the stage right next to the stage lights. I'm not sure if Mahler was looking to get a truly antiphonal effect, but he got it just two days ago. It was pretty cool --- except for a few cracked notes by one of the trumpeters. Oh well.

Every addict has to call it quits at some point, so I'm calling it quits. No more concerts for me until Sunday or Monday. Believe it or not, that's a long time to go in this town.

In other news, I was just looking up some information on Giuseppe Verdi and I found a link on Wikipedia to Verdi Square in Manhattan. I took a look at where it is --- turns out its the 72nd Street Subway Station along the 1, 2, 3. Not only did I spend a whole lot of time there while attending high school a few blocks south of it, but that area was also known as Needle Park in the 60s and 70s. For those who haven't been enlightened in drug-related havens within New York City, all the coolest druggies and drug dealers hung out and shot up in the spiritual presence of the Italian opera master, Maestro Verdi and his four most famous opera characters. Ugh. I'd only appreciate them for it if they brought speakers and blasted the Requiem on just one occasion. Something tells me they didn't.

Thanks a lot, Wikipedia. With one sentence, you ruined Verdi, New York City, and drug addicts for me.

Enjoy,
Danny Boy Rad

Great-  http://gothamist.com/2010/02/08/rat_panic_in_vermin_square.php

Ode to Gustav Mahler

Mahler was a baller
If only he was five inches taller
Perhaps Alma wouldn't have had used Gropius as a gentleman caller
And maybe just maybe Mahler could have continued his ways of wallerin'
Oh yes, Mahler was a genu-ine bonafide baller



I'm thinking I might pursue the poetry field if music doesn't work out.

The Gremlins in the Night

Where to begin? I cannot imagine how painful and ridiculous this story-telling process is going to be, but I have no other choice - I must document the most insane 30-ish hours of my life. This comes before all of my homework and random little errands that I should be doing. If you have 10 minutes to devote to perusing this, you will see just why I spent the day recollecting and reminiscing.

***It is important to note, I started writing this at around 2 or 3pm today. It is now almost midnight and I'm finishing it up. You have no idea how much was taken out of me just to type it up. All I can say that I've done today was I typed this, did a little homework, and saw Beethoven's Ninth performed at the Musikverein with a pretty good Krakow Philarharmonic, an energetic timpanist, but an awful chorus and abysmal soloists. Good thing I've seen Beethoven's Ninth live twice before.***

Ever since I got to Vienna, just about six weeks ago now, I constantly heard talk of going to Oktoberfest. You know what? Even in Mariazell, a small city in the Austrian alps where my study abroad excursion began, people on the trip were already making plans to trek to Munich, Germany for Oktoberfest. The only thing I knew about the event at the time was that one imbibes an abundance of beer while there. I didn't have much desire to witness it firsthand, but the peer pressure got to me. A little less than a week ago, two friends, Drew Schweppe and Adam Sadowski, and I made legitimate plans to buy train tickets to Munich for this past Friday. Why we waited until the week of to buy tickets, I believe there are a few reasons: our hearts were never fully into it and the two friends of mine are not really about planning - they're of the spontaneous kind.

We did purchase tickets as well as a student discount "membership" type card for future train ticket discounts. From the very beginning, someone, perhaps God-like, did not want us to go on this trip. There is an underlying theme that can be  deduced in this mini-chronicle and it began at the time of our ticket purchase. The men and women who work for ÖBB (the Austrian rail system) are not incredibly helpful nor particularly friendly. Regardless, my comrades and I bought three rather expensive tickets to Munich and back. It is important to note, I suppose, that we never made any lodging accommodations. We were looking for a truly crazy experience - guess what we got? Nothing short of that. Our plans were to go to Oktoberfest and eventually wander into someone's padded palace to spend the night in.

Friday evening quickly comes around so I head to the fellows' apartment to make some sandwiches to take with us. The two fellows went all out on their somewhat "traditional" Oktoberfest garb and looked like a mix between Irish lads and some members of the Nazi campaign. I, on the other hand, did not go all out and that was just fine with me as they were stuck in their costumes for the duration of the trip. My friends' "Resident Advisor" (a really cool Austrian man) gave us advice on what to and what not to bring. This advice wound up being some pretty awful guidance.
"Don't bring an umbrella - where will you put it when you're not using it?"
"Don't bring an iPod - the train will be filled with people partying."
"They won't let you bring anything in the tents - don't even try bringing food." -  Thank God we didn't listen to him on this one.
Interestingly enough, he had never been to an Oktoberfest celebration yet we, for the most part, diligently followed the man's instructions.

The first hitch of the adventure occurred within minutes of leaving for the train station. For some reason Maddes, the RA, directed us very poorly to the Hütteldorf train station. The train was to leave at 12:09 in the AM - thankfully, we left a good hour to get there. We were unsure of exactly where the train was leaving from so we hurried first to Wien Westbanhof where most of the trains coming in and going out of Austria are. Our gut instincts were correct as the train was not leaving from Wien Westbanhof; it was leaving from Hütteldorf. On our way, we had a hysterical interaction with an acid-tripping man on the U-Bahn. The few things we understood him saying were "San Francisco", "I studied music in Vienna", "the government of Moscow", and "I love Bruce Springsteen" as he rushed off the train in a frenzy. If only we got a picture with him. The aftermath will have to do (from left to right, Drew "Little Bear" Schweppe, Adam "Guys, let's make a beat!" Sadowski):

***

(I attempted several times to upload a video of us retelling the above story...Mr. Blogger didn't let it happen. One day you will see it. It might just have to go on Facebook.)

We arrived with plenty of time at the correct station. I had never been on a train for more than 2 hours, let alone a train in the middle of the night to a different country. So one can imagine I was looking forward to it. As soon as we stepped on the train, I was hit with some bad vibes. All of the compartments were pretty much filled with sleeping people. After a bit of searching, the three of us found a compartment with a few seats open. The few seats that were not available were being used by two unpleasant-looking Hungarian men. What else were we going to do? Sleep in the aisle of the train? Well, heh, not until we were coming back to Vienna would some of us do that but hey that's a bit later on. Upon entering this little room, a stench of the worst kind of drunkenness hit us. After finding out that the men did not speak English, we didn't feel bad about belittling the creepy creatures sitting next to us as they consumed beer after beer. I especially loved it when they would finish a beer - they'd crush the can as slowly as they possibly could which made for an AWESOME sleeping aid for us Americans. I was convinced that at least one of them was going to vomit on either each other or us.
If I fast forward about six hours through what was obviously a terrible train ride accompanied by a few hours of in-and-out sleep (that is, the best kind of sleep), we made it to Munich.

What a gorgeous place! HAH. Well, it was 6:15 in the morning in the train station and it was pouring rain - I went expecting rain and I got it. Besides our sleep-derived bodies and minds, eh...besides nothing, we started our Oktoberfest day about as miserable as one could have. The train station at this time was my idea of a frat party in Germany. It was uh, you know - fun. We followed some people in the rain, hoping they'd lead us to OKTOBERFEST. They actually did. Now that I think about it, those were some of the only nice people we encountered on the journey. This is what it looked like...just picture the sun being hundreds of millions of miles away and freezing rain coming down on all those little people.

When we couldn't take anymore trudging in the cold we decided on our "tent for the day." It was the Löwenbräu tent as they primarily sold Löwenbräu beer. Tasty, but nothing I'd ever email home about. They say when at Oktoberfest you spend the entire day drinking in one tent. Do not leave that tent because you'll never get into another one. The tent we chose had a manageable line forming outside. The only slight problem was that tents do not open until 9 AM. It was about 7:20 at this point. Too bad someone told us not to take an umbrella because, well, we were waiting on that line which quickly turned into a packed crowd of obnoxious, beer-thirsty 20 something year-olds. After a few  tiffs with some German hoodlums, lots of accumulated rain falling on us from surrounding umbrellas, a few pokes from those very same umbrellas, and an hour and a half of pure gloom, the Oktoberfest doors opened. I'm not sure how many of you have ever flown before, but let me tell you - it's not as much fun as you may imagine it being. Maybe I shouldn't refer to it as flying, but I was definitely off the ground for a few minutes as the group of hundreds and hundreds pushed their way into the tent. There was nothing anyone could do. I glided to the left, to the right...whichever direction those people forced upon me. I was unable to move any part of my body except for maybe my head. This was until the group really worked together and got me inside. Unfortunately, they kind of made me barrel into a few Oktoberfest French men security dudes - they were wearing berets. I don't think they were actually French. And I don't think they liked it went I almost knocked them over because they barked some German at me.
Oh well...we did make it inside - we just lost Schweppe. Not for long, though.

Funny, you'd think my Oktoberfest tale would concentrate on the drinking and all the fun I had - Nein, no, es tut mir leid, sorry. Those next three or four hours of drinking liters of beer and eating some pretty gross peanut butter/nutella and turkey sandwiches was fun and all, but not all that story-worthy. 

Pardon me, I didn't flip the photo. That is Oktoberfest for you, any way you look at it.

During that whole tent experience, we made some Munich friends, some American friends, some Australian friends, some suburban German enemies who loved blowing smoke in our faces, some Italian enemies, and we even found some fellow IES buddies. Eventually, we ignored the "Stay in one tent" tip and got the hell out of that place. It was somewhere around 1, maybe 2pm at this point. We did some drunk and aimless meandering around the broken glass-ridden grounds. Oooh, we even got into some bumper cars and made a few more enemies. Apparently, Schweppe does not recall this at all:

Two boys havin' fun. It wouldn't last for much longer.

We attempted to find some other IES folks around, but gave up. There's only so much wandering through a huge festival that I can take when I haven't had much sleep and have consumed three or four liters of hefty beer too early in the morning, so we left the Oktoberfest area in search of a bathroom. While Schweppe found a bathroom (contact Schweppe himself if you'd like to hear his bathroom adventure), Adam and I sat on the street and pretended to be homeless. All that led to was us getting asked for money...I guess that's Germany for you. Germans expect the homeless to provide the rich with fancy cars and suits.

We slowly ventured to a McDonald's where we meet an American soldier from Miami who's going to Afghanistan sometime soon. I'd say it was around this point that the alcohol had pretty much worn off. It was also at this time that I attempted to call an IES friend who had offered me to stay with her in Munich that night. To no avail, that was. The three of us didn't really feel like spending the rest of the day and night walking around a city that had not been all that nice to us so we made an executive decision to go home to Vienna. I checked the train schedule and found a 6:48pm train - funny, because I think it was like 6:20. The train after that was something like 11:45pm. We weren't enthralled with the idea of hanging out in Munich for 5 hours so we, as some say "booked it." We made a new British enemy/friend as we walked to the U-bahn. He liked touching our faces a little too much...drunk bastard. I'd say out of all the awful people we met, this kid was the worst. Maybe Schweppe should've stopped asking "Wie geht's?" to every passerby. Schweppe managed to piss off a helpful, attractive woman after getting directions from her. I suppose she became an enemy. Oh, we did make a very nice friend in the next woman we asked directions for. She pointed us in the right direction alright. We illegally rode the Munich U-Bahn one stop to the train station. It was somewhere around 6:45pm so we "booked it OD" and ran to the train bound for our delightful home away from home, Vienna.

We made it just in time ---- ouch, but it was not going to Vienna. The conductor of the train stared at our ticket for way too long and told us to get on the train as it would take us to Salzburg. From there, we'd be able to get to Vienna. While we could have killed 5 hours in that city, we decided against it and got on the packed train. On it, we find some more IES pals which was quite comforting, except that they were going to Salzburg and not to Vienna just yet. We proceed to doze off on the stairs of the train. 

I apologize to my photography savvy friends. I didn't have the energy to stand up and capture the scene in its whole, not-blurry state.

At some point, I got into a conversation with a Munich man who said he was a deacon - I assumed that's something related to a religion I know very little about. He then asked me if I was a Christian...I timidly responded with a "Uh, no....I'm uh...Jewish." I was hoping and praying that this man was not one of the few or many neo-Nazis left in the world. He was a bit taken aback, but handled it like a professional with reassurances such as "Germany, Germany and Austria...we love Israel. We like Jews. Ya know?" He then told me how his father was a member of the SS. I thought about bringing up my recent trip to Auschwitz, but decided against it. I was so wrapped up in our conversation that I forgot to take a picture with the inspiring man. Shucks. Also on the train was a group of fifteen or so drunk, screaming German high schoolers. After an hour or two of some more nodding in and out of sleep, all of the kids got off the train. AHHhhhh - I thought to myself, "Wow, that's possibly the first good thing to happen on the trip." Then, that very same conductor who told us to get on the train got our attention and told us to get off the train. We were all in a daze but we managed to ask "Are we in Salzburg?" Well, no, we were not in Salzburg. He said "Run...bus to Salzburg there." Everyone had gotten off the train and packed into two buses heading to Salzburg, we thought.

As most of you know, I come from New York City - a city with some 8 million people. I know what being cramped in a small space feels like. However, riding the New York City subway did not train me well. That bus ride through the countryside of what I assume now was Germany was just another hellish experience of the trip. Besides the new drunk men, I was now standing up holding onto a pole for dearest life. Schweppe made a few more German enemies - I'm convinced that German people live to laugh at Americans for no real reason. Sitting down next to me was a portly woman with numerous facial and mouthy piercings. She got some kind of tremendous pleasure out of making lots of sexual tongue and hand references/gestures to me while pointing at some guy sitting next to her. That was my form of entertainment on that God-knows-how-long bus ride. It felt like several hours but I think it was only 30 or 40 minutes. We made it to a train station that we all assumed was Salzburg. But just to be sure, we asked a man directing us to the station. "This is Salzburg, right?" I think he said something like, "Nein, das ist Germany." So uh, we weren't in Salzburg. We were to take a train to Salzburg. I don't really remember waiting for that train, but I remember being on it for maybe 15 minutes. I do remember how the entire bus crowd ran across the train tracks to get to the train. I thought that might be a little dangerous, but what else could possibly go wrong...egh. On that train, I got to use the bathroom which was way too spacious to be a bathroom on a train. But hey...we did make it to Salzburg.

At this point, we split left the IES friends who were going to a hostel somewhere in Salzburg for the night. Perhaps we should've done the same. But how were we to know of the atrocities to follow?

We found the track that our "Wien-Westbanhof" train was to embark from. Schweppe went in search of water leaving Adam and I to laugh off the day's events.

King of the Salzburg Train Station while he still felt King-like.

We found the track that our "Wien-Westbanhof" train was to embark from. Schweppe went in search of water (contact Schweppe for his Burger King water-finding fiasco) leaving Adam and I to laugh off the day's events. I remember thinking, "Perhaps we should ask someone if this is definitely going to Vienna." Eh...there was no one there to ask. At 9:40ish, the train arrived. We got on it and searched for a compartment to pass out in. Before we could, a train worker whistled at us and shined a flashlight at us. In the meanest way possible, he communicated to us that we were to go to the other end of the train. Whistling and shining that flashlight. That'll do it. We soon found a heavenly section of empty rooms. Schweppe and Adam lie down on three seats each as I take my own little compartment thinking, "My god...it is almost over." I remember sending a text message to my friend still in Munich, Siena, saying that the awful expedition was so close to the end - as in, I was not convinced that it was going to be over soon. A minute or two later, I hear Schweppe and Adam talking to someone so I go out into the aisle to inquire. It was a train conductor telling us that the train was not going to Vienna. Hmmm. He told us to get off the train at the next stop and to get a train going back to Salzburg where we'd get a Vienna-bound train. Was he serious? Yes...I truly could not believe it...but at the same time, it made sense. Why would our journey end on a somewhat happy note? Exactly, it wouldn't. Curses were flying through the air as we threw on our shoes and got off that damn train. We ran through a tunnel to the other side of the absolutely dead train platform. There was one man there -- he didn't seem to like us very much. That train came maybe 10 minutes later. On the train, I glanced at a map. It looked like an unsolvable puzzle. I chuckled. This is when I began seriously considering the idea that someone had been playing a truly evil joke on us.
 
Once back in Salzburg, we checked another schedule. It seems like we made a mistake. The train that we got on had come to Salzburg FROM Vienna. Alright...whoops, we were perhaps a little too excited to see the name "Wien" and got on the wrong train. Still, even if we didn't get on the train, we would have been waiting for the train to Vienna until 2:17am. So, we had 3 and half hours. 3 and half hours to kill in Salzburg in the rain at 11pm. Welly, welly, welly what to do? We first waited to make sure that the Vienna-bound train was actually going to arrive at 2:17.

"Help us, Tobi."

While waiting on the train station steps, we came across a few very interesting characters. Two men dressed like Spanish bullfighters strolled on up to us. Even now, I'm not really sure why they came up to us. We had a short conversation with the fellows, told them our story and such. Apparently they had just come from Malaga in Spain. What they were doing in Salzburg dressed like idiots, I do not know. We talked to an older gentleman about our woes as well. It didn't seem like he was all there - at one point he said something like, "Oh yah. There is a train to Vienna soon but...eh" and walked away. We then realized we could contact the IES girls that we met on the first train we took that night because they were staying in a hostel in Salzburg. Perhaps we could either stay there the night or just kill some time with them. Too bad we didn't know any of them well enough to have their phone numbers. So we were forced to call one of the IES staff members to get the phone number of one of the girls. Despite the complicated directions to the hostel, we decided to attempt to make it there...anything is better than being stuck in the rain in a foreign, unknown city in the middle of the night. We walked on over to the bus stop and checked the schedule. Ah, no buses to this specific area of Salzburg past 11pm. That's a shame. I'd say this point was when we pretty much knew we were not going to have any more fun. Also, the lack of sleep was definitely creeping up on us.

Next to the train station was a big big hotel. We considered wasting a bit more money on a room for the night. Really, we just wanted to be in some kind of a building. We walk in to simply ask if there were any rooms available. At the front desk, a man seemed to have cut us in line, but Adam was quick to go "Uh, we were here first." The poor man that Adam scolded worked at the hotel...Adam wasn't a happy camper, especially when they told us there were no rooms available.
 
We then slowly walked to the Burger King of Salzburg. They say they have the best burgers in all of Central Europe so we had to try!!! No, that ain't true. We just wanted to sit indoors. Schweppe and I then rather stupidly ate lots of Burger King as some locals (or non locals, I didn't care anymore) serenaded us in major 7ths and minor 2nds. We reflected some more on our fun-filled day and then got kicked out at 12 as Burger King employees have lives too.

As we left, we saw another hotel. This time, it was a Ramada. How could the Ramada not have any rooms available? I don't know, but they didn't have any rooms available. They wouldn't even open the door for us - they told us through a speaker. Where to go? Hey...how about that McDonald's? It's open until 2 in the morning. Just what we need!

That McDonald's was our second McDonalds in 5 or so hours. The previous McDonald's that we got to enjoy was in Germany. But it was this McDonald's in northwestern Austria where our day just fell apart. Nothing terrible happened there, just the awful happenings of the day finally hit us reallll hard. Our little bear Adam took a nap on the table while Drew and I did some more nodding in and out of consciousness. I watched a music video a friend named Mari once showed me. It reminded me that there are nice places in the world...like Bard College, Vienna, New York City. I didn't want to tell Drew at the time and I didn't think it'd do anyone too much good, but I was pretty certain that I was going to vomit in or around that McDonald's - just from exhaustion. Every Austrian who passed us or sat down next to us looked at us first with disgust, then with a huge smile on their face. Three guys, two of which looked pretty ridiculous, half-dead in a Salzburg McDonald's. One lady, referring to Adam, asked me, "Is he dead?"
No...he wasn't but he wasn't far from it.

After an hour or so of that hellhole called a fast food-place, we needed to get out even if into the cold and wet night. We returned to the train station but to the correct platform and around 1:40 the train to Vienna pulled in. There were about 5 empty seats on the train. I took one of them even though it required me to disrupt 5 sleeping strangers. Schweppe and Adam were men about it. They slept on the floor of the train aisle. For some reason, the train sat in the station of Salzburg until 2:20. I recall staring (into space) out the window thinking we were finally moving. We weren't. Either I was hallucinating or it really did look like we were moving. I looked to my left towards a smiling man and asked with the last few coherent words I had left, "This IS going to Vienna, right?" He nodded and replied, "Yeah...I'm not really sure...it should be." That was plenty good enough for me. Three hours of more of the same went by slowly as ever. The last half hour I spent fully awake waiting to see a "Hütteldorf Wien" sign. Every time we passed a station, I'd get dizzy just trying to read the sign. I have seen hell, folks...it isn't pleasant. When we came to a halt at the Hütteldorf Wien station, I quickly started patting Schweppe and Adam, waking them from their slumbers. It was time to go find our way home in a city we knew. It was time. We had been in that station just 28 or 29 hours earlier. I remember maybe 10 hours before that point thinking, "How crazy. We might be able to say that we left Vienna and arrived in Vienna in the same day." It was close, but we were some 6 hours late.

While waiting for the U4 train to take us home, we met one last character. The problem was we didn't want to meet anymore people. The other problem was that this guy was extremely annoying. He was some NYU Law graduate working at the UN in Vienna who was also at Oktoberfest that day and he sucked. He wouldn't stop talking. It was quite clear we didn't want to talk to him. He just kept on yapppin'. All I remember about that 30-minute conversation was that he lived in Williamsburg for 4 years and he compared Williamsburg to Manhattan. That's when I stopped listening altogether.

Around 6:20am, I walked into my room and plopped into bed.

A few final things:
- I recall when we were rushing to the train to Munich, Adam kept on reminding us, "Hey, this is good. It's an adventure, right?" If only he knew what we were about to experience.
- Also, one of the funniest parts of the whole 30 hours was the mood shift from Drew to Adam. There were times when Drew was not feeling it at all whereas little Adam would be as cheerful as a summer bird. "Cheer up little bear. We're going to be just fine." Then maybe an hour later, they'd switch moods.
- I believe I may remember a few more bits of the above events in the coming days. If I'm feeling extra happy, I'll add them to this long and drawn out tale.
- Notice the number of pictures taken decreases as the experience got more and more painful. What's that? A direct inverse proportion or somethin?
- I assume there are numerous typos in here...there is no way I can reread what I just typed. I apologize.
- I just read somewhere that we attended the 200th anniversary of Oktoberfest. I guess that means Oktoberfest is normally a lot worse.