tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-83475359307733977652024-03-05T16:06:27.950-08:00Waltzing through the "City of Music"The Self-Indulgent, Soon-to-be-reminiscent Tales of a Semester in ViennaDanielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02085261322334417304noreply@blogger.comBlogger36125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347535930773397765.post-67978771705731408122011-01-15T10:22:00.000-08:002011-01-16T07:57:10.473-08:00SevenHello all, hello.<br />
<br />
I commend you for checking this here blog even though the whole premise is a bit outdated.<br />
What I'm about to tell you all has nothing to do with Vienna but this is my only outlet in which I can humor and preach to my good friends.<br />
<br />
This is going to take ya'll back to the summer of 2008.<br />
I was sitting in the Tuileries Garden in Paris, just a few meters away from the cafe below.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/3/37/Cafe_de_Pomone_Jardin_des_Tuileries.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="300" /></td></tr>
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<h1 class="firstHeading" id="firstHeading" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-color: rgb(170, 170, 170); border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 1px; color: black; font-weight: normal; line-height: 1.2em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; overflow-x: hidden; overflow-y: hidden; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; width: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: sans-serif; line-height: 24px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">Cafe de Pomone Jardin des Tuileries</span></span></h1></td></tr>
</tbody></table>I'm not sure where I heard or read it, but I had recently become aware that in the year 2011 the world population was going to hit 7 billion. It got me thinking. My god. 7 billion people. In 1960, the population hit 3 billion. In only fifty years, the population more than doubled....whew. Anyway anyway, I started think...huh - what if, in 2011, we, the world, get together and have a month long party? You skeptics out there, don't worry, it'll get better. I was a wee little 18 year old boy in Paris in a dreamlike state of mind, but I was totally aware of the ridiculousness of the idea. I wanted all 7 billion people in the world to gather and enjoy each other's company, drink and eat, put on some artsy performances, have translators at the ready, make sure of adequate law enforcement (I think we considered all of the criminals in jail and such -- I forget exactly what was decided on that but that is a minute detail in the grand scheme of things here). Basically, the plan was to organize the most historic occasion in history. Much thought even when into where the event would take place. Long division, crazy addition, and multiplication <b><i>was</i></b> performed on napkins. I wanted to make sure everyone at the party, soon-to-be-named "SEVEN" -- no, no not the Brad Pitt-Morgan Freeman "SE7EN," had plenty of room to move freely. The weather and climate was a major factor as I didn't want to get hit with any casualties as a result of the worldly festival. As you can imagine, this scene in a splendid garden on a somewhat brisk summer day (if I remember correctly) was quite the spectacle.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/3/31/Tuileries_panorama.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/3/31/Tuileries_panorama.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div>Now, in the past two and a half years, I've explained that same plan (if you haven't realized yet, I've been half serious-half joking throughout) to a few friends...I'm not sure exactly who I told but I know whoever I told had a nice laughing fit. Of course, I know it's an impossible impossibility. I simply loved toying with the absurd idea. I considered writing it all out in some semi-official fashion just in case some meanie would try to steal it but thought 'Heh...it's just so ridiculous I don't think anyone would ever spend more than 10 seconds thinking about it' so I didn't. What was I going to do about it anyway?<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Since the New Year, I hadn't really realized "Oh wow, it's 2011, I better get ready for Seven."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">UNTIL this morning when...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Papa Joe and I drove out to Great Neck for our semi-annual dentist visit. I sat down and immediately, one of the dental hygienists comes into the waiting room and tells me they're ready for me and to bring a magazine just in case. I grab the only magazine whose cover was completely visible. It happened to be a National Geographic with a big "POPULATION 7 BILLION HOW YOUR WORLD WILL CHANGE" on the cover. Since you all now know of my curious interest in world population, it wouldn't surprise you that I quickly perked up. I didn't care that the dentist was about to mangle my mouth and teeth...I had some GOOD reading ahead of me. I wasn't able to do it though, because the dentist was right on time. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">As soon as the dental hygienist lady told me I was done, I darted out of the room and into the waiting room. I plopped down in a chair and violently flipped through the magazine. Page Twenty struck me and struck me real hard. It read <b>"<u>Seven Billion: World Part</u>y - As the global population approaches the seven billion mark, we should all probably try to get to know one another a little better. What if somebody threw a party and invited every single person living on Earth? It would be a logistical nightmare, but you might be surprised at the relatively small size of the venue needed to fit seven billion people - even if we gave them enough room to dane. Don't forget to RSVP."</b> --- Nigel Holmes</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Oh don't you worry, Nigel. I RSVPd a long time ago...two and a half years ago actually. Below Nigel's paragraph, there are some figures and maps showing how much land is needed for the event. GREAT.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Two things:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">1. I guess this means I'm not as crazy as I thought.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">2. It's just a shame...the person who witnessed the original plan concocted back in 2008 is well, somewhere...somewhere sticky. Somewhere sticky and tricky.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Thus, I have no testimonial proof...oh freakin well. You win, MR. HOLMES.</div>Danielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02085261322334417304noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347535930773397765.post-29302295216500063882010-12-22T14:42:00.000-08:002010-12-22T14:42:03.729-08:00New York CityIn case anyone was worried that I never made it home, I am here to trounce that thought.<br />
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.<br />
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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). <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lztwjgD10Yw">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lztwjgD10Yw</a><br />
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How can you not love Mel Gibson? He's so dreamy and sooooo sweeeeeet.Danielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02085261322334417304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347535930773397765.post-12419567717649705162010-12-16T16:43:00.000-08:002010-12-16T16:43:47.650-08:00It's over ladies and gentsI'm coming back ya'll.<br />
<br />
On my way to Vienna (in JFK), I wrote on a piece a paper the following:<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"> ***</div>The journey begins!<br />
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.<br />
I stare at the many families walking and gliding to their gate. Hebrew, French, every language is spoken in airports.<br />
Oh...sure hope I don't get a stomachache on the airplanes.<br />
That's all for now, ladies and gents.<br />
Take care of the United States for me,<br />
Daniel<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">***</div>The next morning (on the plane from Zurich to Vienna), I wrote:<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">***</div><div style="text-align: left;">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?</div><div style="text-align: left;">Viddy well and talk to ya in Vienna!</div><div style="text-align: left;">Danieljreilkasd;a</div><div style="text-align: center;">***</div><div style="text-align: left;">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.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Alright. I'm on the plane in 5 hours. Good night, good morning. See ya'll sooooooon</div>Danielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02085261322334417304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347535930773397765.post-53582461260706154452010-12-13T06:35:00.000-08:002010-12-13T06:35:27.032-08:00Crazy 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.<br />
<br />
Yah, that's about it.<br />
<br />
See ya Americans reaaal soon.Danielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02085261322334417304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347535930773397765.post-57942104540626071612010-12-07T12:03:00.000-08:002010-12-07T12:03:45.205-08:00No more timeI 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.<br />
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HTEh1A9Ur8E&feature=related">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HTEh1A9Ur8E&feature=related</a>Danielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02085261322334417304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347535930773397765.post-47596549200503027992010-12-06T17:14:00.000-08:002010-12-06T17:14:19.758-08:00Shosta Wosta and oh so much moreThree 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.<br />
<br />
I had no idea what to expect seein' some funky dudes in a concert hall famous for classical music.<br />
What I got was about 1500 fifty something year olds dancing to their favorite tunes from the 70s and 80s.<br />
<br />
It was pretttay prettay different from Shostakovich's 14th and 15th Symphonies, I'd say.Danielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02085261322334417304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347535930773397765.post-84595428828888559522010-12-04T16:31:00.000-08:002010-12-04T16:31:58.650-08:00D-D-D-DmitriiiiOur 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.<br />
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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.<br />
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I'm going to attempt to wake up early tomorrow to see his 8th Symphony. We'll see what happens.<br />
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See ya folks soonDanielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02085261322334417304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347535930773397765.post-36508763556765371942010-12-02T14:08:00.000-08:002011-01-18T10:28:17.683-08:00Mr. TchaikovskyHey, 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...<br />
<br />
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.<br />
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Tonight was a concert of a Weber overture, some songs from Mahler's <i>Des Knaben Wunderhorn</i>, 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.........<br />
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yI3ifmdPPJE&feature=related">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yI3ifmdPPJE&feature=related</a><br />
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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. <br />
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Tomorrow's our big, big concert at IES.<br />
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Happy 2nd night of Chanukah,<br />
L'Chaim folksDanielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02085261322334417304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347535930773397765.post-75660036391428622662010-11-30T09:00:00.000-08:002010-11-30T09:00:18.539-08:00Those legendary pinesMaybe it's because I saw this performed at the Musikverein last night, maybe not.<br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fH4csOibl18&feature=related">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fH4csOibl18&feature=related</a><br />
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).<br />
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Take care ya'llDanielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02085261322334417304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347535930773397765.post-9988205134378502962010-11-29T08:55:00.000-08:002011-01-19T08:31:04.240-08:00I'm about due for a postYes, 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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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. <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3EZDQ5TJY4jjjd5w7WS2VXGmYa_kXy3pbIlGal8ZwvfXnwrKtIwvvIXl4PaXfrTn9VGW811Esls9LNRkU5OY_fMKVN2gNr0oN3fy5N-fasqNpatIFVoajzL7xKVdpozrpUckPxmk7b2Y/s1600/DSCN1401.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3EZDQ5TJY4jjjd5w7WS2VXGmYa_kXy3pbIlGal8ZwvfXnwrKtIwvvIXl4PaXfrTn9VGW811Esls9LNRkU5OY_fMKVN2gNr0oN3fy5N-fasqNpatIFVoajzL7xKVdpozrpUckPxmk7b2Y/s640/DSCN1401.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">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.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Behind his house, oddly enough, is a bunch of trailer homes; but, among those trailer homes was Mahler's legendary composing hut:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBVC4phwGSlYrFleksAMkZTrSR5V-3BYCRq9tPTtKoK1QPBmgdYrXFIgvbh55GsroF2GlLsXk4AXaDYHA_JAP9bDjWazIkWDCSQ_6SMAlRhYBJ4MPf8gReDcJwwhcy98xRr1TNBRBi0Bg/s1600/DSCN1411.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBVC4phwGSlYrFleksAMkZTrSR5V-3BYCRq9tPTtKoK1QPBmgdYrXFIgvbh55GsroF2GlLsXk4AXaDYHA_JAP9bDjWazIkWDCSQ_6SMAlRhYBJ4MPf8gReDcJwwhcy98xRr1TNBRBi0Bg/s640/DSCN1411.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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: <br />
<i><br />
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.</i><br />
<br />
Back to the trip as a whole, listening to Richard Strauss's <i>Alpine Symphony</i> could some our 36-hour adventure up...to an extent. For the real thing, just ask one of us. It was incredible.Danielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02085261322334417304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347535930773397765.post-22346340519857363652010-11-21T06:36:00.000-08:002010-11-21T06:36:22.866-08:00Wien, Wein und Käse (Vienna, Wine and Cheese)Eyoaa,<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/5/54/Wien_Prunksaal_Oesterreichische_Nationalbibliothek.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/5/54/Wien_Prunksaal_Oesterreichische_Nationalbibliothek.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>It was nice, I guess.<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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 - <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SExR2h20HlQ&feature=related">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SExR2h20HlQ&feature=related</a>. 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 <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rrEzvGQeHTg&feature=related">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rrEzvGQeHTg&feature=related</a>. Not bad for 0 Euros, 0 Dollars.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
Two unbelievable concerts, no money spent.Danielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02085261322334417304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347535930773397765.post-54705545143197205902010-11-15T08:22:00.000-08:002010-11-16T08:13:16.030-08:00Howdy Hi HO<div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">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 <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FOlJixJAhPM&feature=related">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FOlJixJAhPM&feature=related</a> (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.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">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. </span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_twDXGmr1zvw/S0LYIAoWocI/AAAAAAAACpk/WD_YgxhV6J4/P1060107.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_twDXGmr1zvw/S0LYIAoWocI/AAAAAAAACpk/WD_YgxhV6J4/P1060107.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">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.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Prost! Cheers!</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Daniel</span></div>Danielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02085261322334417304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347535930773397765.post-67176075587997552482010-11-13T03:26:00.000-08:002010-11-13T03:26:27.522-08:00Party HeartyWelly, yesterday was a day filled with parties or to be more precise, social gatherings.<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.botros.at/images/incentives/Kinsky_Confernce_Big.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="286" src="http://www.botros.at/images/incentives/Kinsky_Confernce_Big.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>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.<br />
<br />
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...Danielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02085261322334417304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347535930773397765.post-217638886633670752010-11-10T14:05:00.000-08:002010-11-13T02:52:05.662-08:00Short an' Sweet<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.freedigitalphotos.net/images/photos/Vienna_2008_010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.freedigitalphotos.net/images/photos/Vienna_2008_010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://www.freedigitalphotos.net/images/photos/Vienna_2008_010.JPG" width="320" /></a></span><span style="font-size: small;">In between my Mahler class and Theory class, I went a nice brisk walk to the Belvedere.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Take care now, bye bye then. </span></div>Danielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02085261322334417304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347535930773397765.post-51617035438631499472010-11-08T07:39:00.000-08:002010-11-16T08:22:21.158-08:00Mein Gott<span style="font-size: small;">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.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">*******I'm adding this a few hours after writing the above story******</span></div><span style="font-size: small;">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.</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">**************<br />
</span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">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.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Somebody's got lots of work to do tonight and it may not be you.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">IT's ME.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Yours ever so truly,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">D-Man Vienna Lover</span>Danielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02085261322334417304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347535930773397765.post-24277180240662033912010-11-07T12:58:00.000-08:002010-11-07T15:02:37.212-08:00Mmmm mmmusic<span style="font-size: small;">I'd say Vienna's pretty great. <i>Prettaaay</i> <i>pretttay</i> <i>prettay</i> <i>pretty</i> great: <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w8jx85_RyA8&feature=related">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w8jx85_RyA8&feature=related.</a></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">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. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">I now know one can go to a concert at the Musikverein at intermission then sneak into the standing room fo free.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"> I took part into two friends' choir rehearsals today. I'd say they were more than successful.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">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. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">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. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.bet.com/Assets/BET/Published/image/jpeg/b83c22e0-2147-b434-bf66-13a009e5d1bc-msc_fb_bmm09_DizzyGillespie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="http://www.bet.com/Assets/BET/Published/image/jpeg/b83c22e0-2147-b434-bf66-13a009e5d1bc-msc_fb_bmm09_DizzyGillespie.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: small;">The saxophonist was really great but not the friendliest of gentlemen. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><b>Back to the story</b>, 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. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">That's all folks. Nighty night.</span>Danielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02085261322334417304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347535930773397765.post-21216703457697151772010-11-06T10:31:00.000-07:002010-11-06T10:42:51.223-07:00Ahoy there matiesI sincerely apologize for leaving you without a single blog post in a week or so.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<ul><li>One night, I ate dinner at a pay-what-you-wish Indian Restaurant. It was darn good. </li>
</ul><ul></ul><ul><li>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. </li>
<li>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.</li>
<li>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.</li>
<li>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.</li>
<li>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. </li>
<li>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.</li>
</ul><br />
<ul></ul><a href="http://www.classicsonline.com/sharedfiles/images/artists/orchestra/New_Zealand_Symphony_Orchestra.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="232" src="http://www.classicsonline.com/sharedfiles/images/artists/orchestra/New_Zealand_Symphony_Orchestra.jpg" width="400" /></a>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.<br />
<br />
Toodlez Bardians, Friends, and Family <br />
<br />
All my very best,<br />
DannykinsDanielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02085261322334417304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347535930773397765.post-30347631522097894812010-10-31T06:30:00.000-07:002010-10-31T06:30:00.632-07:00"But hey, I'm just a little Jewish boy tryin' to make it here in Vienna"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-kSfzy2JrGylGTbBoWMRNHjy-V4WJEjVda0cyZKa2La_kT9hYkozUcoGEF3KO99mRmWwRurZB4zeBIowg9DA8x9ik6oor0NPu_AloszN3vrvTXQfsen-ZXR3XtqRNYbkQ6sxrpJHJzUc/s1600/scooby-hp-3.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="176" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-kSfzy2JrGylGTbBoWMRNHjy-V4WJEjVda0cyZKa2La_kT9hYkozUcoGEF3KO99mRmWwRurZB4zeBIowg9DA8x9ik6oor0NPu_AloszN3vrvTXQfsen-ZXR3XtqRNYbkQ6sxrpJHJzUc/s640/scooby-hp-3.gif" width="640" /></a></div>"Halloween is coming by<br />
See the witches and goblins fly<br />
Oh me. Oh my.<br />
Halloween is coming by"<br />
<br />
Neighborhood School, we still love you.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
This blog post could only have been written on a Sunday since I started it about 4 or 5 hours ago.<br />
<br />
I can honestly say I have not watched the following in more than 10 years. Takes me back to the simple ol' days. <br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bz2Ho62dVr0">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bz2Ho62dVr0</a><br />
<br />
Enjoy your Halloween/Hallowien/Hello Vienna!Danielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02085261322334417304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347535930773397765.post-64677861939592570352010-10-30T10:00:00.000-07:002012-02-23T07:44:13.163-08:00Mhmm...another concertIt 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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
Apparently, I didn't do too well as the man next to me never stopped taking quick glances at me.<br />
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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. <br />
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Aqpjf65FpV0&feature=related">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Aqpjf65FpV0&feature=related</a><br />
Here's my entertainment for the evening. Ciao fah now, children and meine elders.Danielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02085261322334417304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347535930773397765.post-62061361920636517412010-10-28T07:14:00.001-07:002010-10-30T09:31:24.075-07:00Yet Another Concert TaleTwo 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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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. <br />
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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.<br />
Till' next time,<br />
Daniel S.R.Danielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02085261322334417304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347535930773397765.post-34352155515055694782010-10-22T05:01:00.000-07:002010-10-24T03:07:13.202-07:00Two Concerts, One Evening<div style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"></div>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...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="209" src="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1360/1170567333_eac441118a.jpg?v=0" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Konzerthaus Wien</td></tr>
</tbody></table><a href="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1360/1170567333_eac441118a.jpg?v=0" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="http://www.andreas-praefcke.de/carthalia/austria/images/a_wien_konzerthaus_7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a>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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="237" src="http://www.vienna-swingsisters.com/referenzen/musikverein1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Musikverein</td></tr>
</tbody></table>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?<br />
<br />
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. <br />
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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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
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Enjoy your weekend, <br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dG9tuuznL1Y">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dG9tuuznL1Y</a><br />
DannykinsDanielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02085261322334417304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347535930773397765.post-6125335725407880692010-10-20T11:30:00.000-07:002010-10-20T11:30:40.975-07:00That Ol' Tristan ChordI 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. <br />
<br />
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:<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">YOUNG LADY</div><div style="text-align: center;">Entschuldigung.</div><div style="text-align: center;">[Excuse me.] </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">DANIEL</div><div style="text-align: center;">Ja...bitte?</div><div style="text-align: center;">[Yeah?]</div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">YOUNG LADY</div><div style="text-align: center;">(impossible to understand German...) </div><div style="text-align: center;">blah blah blah blah blah blah ich möchte naskjdhkaf kasd ja nein sdsnfbashfjklad ---</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">DANIEL</div><div style="text-align: center;">Uh, es tut mir leid. Ich spreche...kein Deutsch. </div><div style="text-align: center;">[Uh, I'm sorry. I don't speak German.]</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">YOUNG LADY</div><div style="text-align: center;">Ah, uh okay...danke schön sowieso.....<span class="" id="result_box" lang="de"><span title="">aber weißt Sie wenn dieser Zug fährt zum Museumsquartier? </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="" id="result_box" lang="de"><span title=""> </span></span>[Ah thanks anyway.....but do you know if this train goes to Museumsquartier?]</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">DANIEL </div><div style="text-align: center;">(All I heard was something about Museumsquartier which is a stop on the train that I knew of)</div><div style="text-align: center;">Ah, ja. Uh....ja, ja. Sie....kann die....U-zwei nehmen. Das...ist richtig.</div><div style="text-align: center;">[Ah, yeah....you can take the U2. This is right.]</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">YOUNG LADY</div><div style="text-align: center;">Ah, danke schön! </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">DANIEL</div><div style="text-align: center;">Ja...(5 seconds later) bitte.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">The point of that little dialogue? Well, I somehow gave a German speaker directions with my teeny weeny grasp of the language. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Also of interest, I have successfully moved to the Ottakring apartment with all the boys. It's quite nice.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Toodle-ooo folks! </div>Danielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02085261322334417304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347535930773397765.post-45889268286975463342010-10-18T07:35:00.000-07:002010-10-18T07:35:49.598-07:00Let'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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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?<br />
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A few days ago I was reading about Richie V. (Richard Wagner) and I came across something crazy: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wagnerian_Rock">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wagnerian_Rock</a><br />
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.<br />
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It took me 20 years and a half to sit down and watch Steve Martin in his famous <i>The Jerk</i> role; nevertheless, I loved it.<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AI8NuFAETMQ"> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AI8NuFAETMQ</a><br />
Bernadette Peters even does a swell job of faking the right valves. <br />
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Good luck in all your endeavors, guys and dolls.<br />
Chakachaka wing wang chitty chitty bang bang will there be enough,<br />
DanielDanielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02085261322334417304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347535930773397765.post-16479925651231846012010-10-10T14:04:00.000-07:002010-10-10T14:04:21.888-07:00Common Sense by Daniel "Thomas Paine" RutkowskiHello pumpernickel pals,<br />
<br />
Don't accept free apples from strangers in Vienna. Check that, don't accept any free fruit from anyone in Europe.<br />
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.<br />
<br />
This week should be a crazy one. I may be moving to Ottakring. We shall see.<br />
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Hey...how about those Yankees, sweeping the Twins like they did just one year ago. Good for them. Good FOR them.<br />
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Take care purring kittens,<br />
All the best,<br />
Yours,<br />
Clark TerryDanielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02085261322334417304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347535930773397765.post-19719403807840209442010-10-05T14:32:00.000-07:002010-10-07T03:40:51.959-07:00Ich trinke ApfelsaftIt seems like Vienna's high-up intelligence agency people have been reading little Daniel's blog.<br />
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. <br />
<div style="text-align: center;">**</div>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.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">**</div>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. <br />
<div style="text-align: center;">**</div>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.<br />
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BYah boys and girlsDanielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02085261322334417304noreply@blogger.com0