4 week update

I can’t believe I’ve been here for 4 weeks. That amazes me. It feels like I’ve been here so long. I’ve just fallen into the rhythm of life here. At the same time though, it feels new enough that life is exciting. Every day something different happens that is new and exciting.
I am still loving my writing class. Writing is fun. I really love the journal assignment/project. My journal is awesome. It is getting really fat from all the things I’ve glued in. And the edges aren’t nice anymore. There are pieces of paper sticking out various places and various amounts. It looks really neat. It is one of my most prized possessions.
German class is still pretty awful. We’ve started doing grammar. I can basically take all the years I’ve spent learning French grammar and place German grammar on top of that. It makes it really easy. But the class lasts forever. It is 2 hours long. I always think I am going to die and often wonder how I can possibly last through the class. Somehow I manage though.
Waterford gets out this week. That scares me a little. Sophomore year is officially done. This is been one of the greatest years ever. I loved (most of) my classes. I did love what I was learning. I made the most amazing friends and we had so much fun together. And everyone (but me) got their licenses and drove me everywhere. It was just a perfect year. And it’s over. I’m growing up and college is looming on the horizon. But I am learning that I can do it. I can be a grownup. I can do lots of hard things.
Vienna weather is like a crazy person who needs meds to stabalize. Some days, it is simply beautiful. Nothing is better than Vienna in the sun. It is not too hot, but just right. It makes life good. But some days, it rains. And that sucks. Some days are both days. Those days are just a pain.
I get into pretty much any museum in Vienna for free. I have a pass from the school that gets me into all the Hapsburg museums. And because I’m under 19 I can get into most of the rest for free. It’s really sweet. So I go and spend an hour or so and just see the museum piece by piece. I don’t get burned out but I get to see some incredible things. It’s fairly perfect.
I bought a jacket, scarf, skirt, and sandals. I look so European. Some times people come up to me and speak German. It’s the highest compliment someone can pay me. It means I look like a European. That is like winning. But anything is better than being an American. There is a possibility that I speak with a poor British accent sometimes so as to not be an American. Just maybe.
I started a new book: The bullfighter checks her makeup by Susan Orlean. I love love love it. You should read it. It is the perfect summer book. But once I finish it I’m screwed. I didn’t bring any other books with me. So I’m going to have to do all my summer reading the last 3 weeks of summer. That will suck. Mother, if you love me, you will send me The crucible and The grapes of wrath.
I am doing much better at taking care of myself. I rarely get lost and when I do I can find my way back easily. I have mastered public transport, but it’s not as fun anymore. Now I just want to get home, not spend 20 minutes on the streetcar. If you blindfolded me and put me in a random spot in Vienna and then took off the blindfold, I could find my way home from that random spot. That is how much better I am doing at taking care of myself.
I hope that everyone is doing well. I miss and love you all.

"The sister"

When you live with someone who hardly speaks the same language as you, there are bound to be miscommunications. Frau and mine’s was “the sister”. “Frau told us about “the sister” on the first day, but we were tired and she was mostly speaking German. What I knew for sure was that she sleeps in the spare room, she and another “sister” switched every 2 weeks, and “the sister” needed the bathroom until 7:30 every morning.

This anonymous figure became the joke among the three of us living in Frau’s house. Sightings were rare. The first time I saw “the sister” it was about 9 at night and I was trying to get myself out of the bathroom (the doors lock with a key and sometimes I struggle). I finally opened the door and out came “the sister”. She had caramel hair that was all over the place and she was wearing a white nightgown. She started speaking a language that wasn’t German, French or English. I must have looked confused. She tried to act out what she was saying, putting her hands over her heart and opening her mouth huge. I never really understood, but I nodded. I think that she was trying to say that I was too loud trying to get out of the bathroom. Sorry “sister”.

“The sister” complained to Frau once about us. Apparently, we had left the bathroom a mess. That simply isn’t true, we are very careful to keep the bathroom clean. But “the sister” complained that it was a disaster. Frau chastised us. I didn’t like that.

I had one other “sister” sighting. I woke up too early one day, and I went up to the bathroom. Through the warped glass door, I saw a figure dressed entirely in black. I knew it had to be the sister. Based on the outfit, I was sure that she was a nun. It made sense. That would be why Frau called her “the sister” and it would explain the strange black outfit.

Amelia has had a few “sister” sightings, but nothing came out of them. “The sister” does not speak English. Jana has not yet had a “sister” sighting. She is just unlucky. I consider myself “the sister” expert at the house.

The other night at dinner, we were having a lovely conversation with Frau. We were finally communicating with Frau. So I decided to find out about “the sister”.

I said, “Frau, is “the sister” a nun?”

“A nonne Cathoolicke? Nooo.” She laughs and laughs. “She has a husband and two children. A nonne.”

“So then who is she?”

“She ist nurse. She take care of the wife of professor, old friend of my husband’s (husband is dead). The professor vas head of animals at universitat. His wife is very sick, parkinsons.” Fraus shakes her head. “ “The sister” takes care of her. She switch mit her sister 2 weeks. The one who is here now schpreken English perfect.”

And so the mystery of “the sister” was solved.

I feel like I won

This is one reason.

Another is that I am not taking finals.

Another is that I am going to Salzburg and the Alps on Wednesday and it will be beautiful,

And finally because I write this from the most perfect cafe in Europe.

Life is good.

Darth Vader

There was an incident in German class today.

The teacher wrote the word Vader (father) on the board. I had one of my breakthrough moments, and I thought/realized/exclaimed out loud "OHHH that's where Darth Vader comes from". It was a breakthrough. Darth Vader = dark father. His name forshadowed that he would be Luke's "dark father". I love it when things from real life and class connect.

So I proclaimed that aloud. Then I felt stupid. Then I had to explain it. The whole incident took a whole 2 minutes.

When I was little my teachers would write on my (and Sam's especially) progress reports that we "blurt". I thought I had that under control. Some days, learning is just too exciting.

PS. I redeemed myself a little bit. I got an A on my last test - 95%. Take that Darth Vater.

Bathroom Battles

There are two bathrooms at school.

One is small. If you were 75 pounds, it would feel confining. If you were 200 pounds you could fit in it but it would be uncomfortable. If you were 300 pounds, you would not fit in it. This has only only a toilet.

The other is much bigger. Anyone up to 400 pounds would fit without effort. A 600 pound person would be pushing it. A 750 pound person would not fit in it. This bathroom has a toilet AND a sink.

I never know what bathroom will be available when I go. I feel like I won whenever I find the big bathroom empty. Nothing is better than having a sink in the bathroom.

The things I'm learning to appreciate....

Making my own pattern

I left high school a month early. I was finished when I came here. Except for one thing -- my english essay on the razor's edge by Somorset Maugham. It was hard and fun to write. I love end of year essays. They are by far my favorite essay of the year. I work hard on them. So, without making you wait any longer, let me introduce to you the last essay of my sophomore year:

There are several unanswerable questions that have plagued the human race throughout history. People have questioned the existence of higher powers, the nature of their species, the rights of laws and rulers, the proper application of ethics etc. One such question is what is the meaning of life? In this essay, I am responding to this question. I don’t know that I am correct but this essay consists of what I accept as right. Life does not have an unconditional meaning. In Man’s Search for Meaning, Viktor E. Frankl wrote, “the meaning of life differs from man to man from day to day from hour to hour.” He agrees with me; there is no unconditional meaning of life. There is no goal to be achieved or final destination to get to or profound state to be in that is meaning of life. Frankl is saying that the meaning of life is dictated on an individual level at specific moments. I disagree. I don’t think anything exists that will automatically make life meaningful. InThe Razor’s Edge, Somerset Maugham explores what it means for an individual to try to make his life meaningful. From his point of view, a person can choose to make his life meaningful, but it is damn hard. That seems correct to me. An individual can strive however he sees fit to make his life meaningful in whatever sense he defines meaningful. Through Larry, Isabel, and Elliott, Maugham makes an argument to the reader that they must either decide how to make their life meaningful or decide to let their life be wasted. Throughout the book, Maugham asks questions and suggests things about living (or failing to live) a meaningful life. He only makes one statement on this subject. This statement is that “all the persons… got what they wanted” (314). However, there is no question but that most of those people’s lives were meaningless. He is saying that getting what one wants does not mean your life is meaningful; being happy, educated, rich, popular, successful or religious does not make your life meaningful. I agree. Making your life meaningful is personal matter. I can only say that I think my life (because I cannot tell you how to make anyone else’s life meaningful) is made meaningful in the way I interact with others. I am not saying that helping, teaching or loving others will make my life meaningful because it won’t. I believe that if I become a person oriented around others then my life will be meaningful.

With that in mind, let’s talk about Elliott. I spent much of the book trying to convince myself that Elliott was better than he really was. When it comes down to it, Maugham is right when he writes, “society was what he lived for” (201). Elliott spends his whole life working for “social eminence” and he succeeds to a degree (314). But when he dies, Maugham writes “an old, kind friend. It made me sad to think how silly, useless, and trivial his life had been. It mattered very little now that he had gone to so many parties, and had hobnobbed with all those princes, dukes, and counts. They had forgotten him already.” (238). It upsets me that Elliott’s life could have been such a waste and he not see it. Elliott is Maugham’s masterpiece because if he were to look at his life, he would say that it was not a waste. He was happy with the way he spent it. I am not in a position to say with certainty that his life was a waste. I don’t want people to look at my life and tell me it was a waste. Everyone accomplishes something he thinks is valuable in his life. From my perspective, however, Elliott’s life was a waste. He had a heart of gold and he did some nice things for people, but he lived his life primarily for himself doing what he wanted and what would benefit him. I think that makes his life a waste. I don’t want his life to be a waste. I want to be able to live a meaningful life centered around myself. But Elliott did what he wanted and his life was a waste. That means that my life will not be meaningful if I only do what I want. Learning that I cannot get exactly what I want is a very painful reality to face.

On to Isabel. Isabel is the character that haunts me. I have a deep fear that I will become her. I am so like her; I try to be better, but that may not make me any different. Isabel spends her life striving for “an assured position backed by substantial fortune in an active and cultured community” (314). Having that is her goal in life, and she doesn’t realize how futile a goal that is. I think that ignorance of self is the scariest thing in this world, definitely in this book. The most dreadful description of Isabel is when Maugham writes, “I can’t believe that Isabel has changed” (308). He writes this because he recognizes that Isabel is so fixated on her goal that she cannot change. Her life cannot be meaningful because she is to busy worrying about her useless goal of a good social position. For me, this means, again, that I have to choose how badly I want my life to be meaningful. This means that I can’t have everything I want. As long as life seems, it is not long enough for everything. At some point my priorities have to be chosen. At some point I have to give up something I want. And for me, who gets much of what I want, that’s not an easy realization.

Larry is Maugham’s example of someone who chose to strive to make his life meaningful. Larry made this his highest priority in life. He says that “I wanted to make something of my life, but I didn’t know what” (252). Then he proceeds to go into the world and seek an answer for himself. As I was reading the book, I was so excited to find out what Larry’s answer would be. I was waiting for the conflict resolution that I found in every other book I’ve read. But his answer was finding “exaltation” and “transcendent joy” watching the sunrise over the Himalayas (275). He calls this moment his “illumination” (275). While that works for him, my problem with this is that his answer can’t be mine. His answer is a deep sense of peace found because of a personal journey. I cannot apply it to my life, and I am writing this essay because of that. Although I can’t get my answer from Larry, I learned from him. Maugham describes him by saying, “Larry is one of those persons who can go no other way than their own” (88). I think that this is the key to Larry’s success. He simply refuses to let others dictate his life. His need to understand himself and the world triumph over everything in his life because he insists they do. For me, this means that I must work hard in order to make my life meaningful. It means that it is a difficult task. It means that it is far easier for my life to be meaningless. And it means that even if I try with all I am I can still fail

Elliott, Isabel, and Larry but mostly Somerset Maugham have told me that my life will most likely be meaningless. That if I am to make my life meaningful, it will be harder than walking through hell and back. So the last question I ask and answer is is it worth it? I am going to answer yes. Because if I ever get to a point where I feel like my life is meaningful, then that is the happiest I will ever be. I say happiest, but what I really mean is most at peace. I hope that when I truly believe that my life to be meaningful I will have found my peace with this world.

The Mormon Reformation

For Louise's class, we had to pray in a Catholic church and write an essay about it. Here's mine:

My knees are not used to the cushion of leather. Us Mormons, we kneel on the ground. I have prayed on grass, dirt, wood, tile, carpet, concrete, rock, and linoleum, but never leather. Catholics kneel on leather. The leather on which I now kneel is old. It has white cracks running down the soft brown surface like streams run down a mountain. I suppose that it has been here in St. Stephen’s Basilica since it’s construction 105 year ago; always a place for people to turn to their God for encouragement and comfort. It has survived both world wars, the collapse of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, and the end of the communist regime. It would not be as soft now if it were new.

My ears are not used to the music of mass that now surrounds me. I hear a choir singing in Latin and the rich sound of an organ playing. The music comes from every direction, most potently from above. My eyes search for the origin. When I can’t find one I think to myself it must be a choir of angels. I wonder how the Catholics pulled that one off. Then I spot the balcony and am disappointed to see human beings. The choir sits there, led by a conductor conducting so energetically with his entire body that it seems overdone from where I stand far below. I have never heard such beautiful music at a church service. I am used to the Mormon meeting where the congregation sings hymns that sound like funeral processions and poorly written poetry. Sometimes a few trained voices sing louder, overpowering the off key masses. But regardless, it is never very pretty. We Mormons sing to sing. The Catholics sing to make music.

I close my eyes again. I am here to pray. But it feels like a sin to close my eyes and hide the beauty of the basilica. Every inch is decorated ornately. The ceilings are painted depicting scenes of angels. There is rich marble all around. An ornate alter sits at the front. I myself kneel in front of a life size painting of Christ. It is the one thing here that is similar to my Mormon church. We have some paintings too. Ours are there to cover up our bare eggshell-painted brick walls. We have brown carpet with goldfish smashed in and folding chairs with words like “crap” and “dangit” scribbled on their backs by bored Deacons. No one ever converted to Mormonism because of the beauty of our meetinghouses.

I focus on my prayer and myself. It’s hard to do. I am not used to the magnitude of the service in which I now find myself. This basilica is huge. It could eat and digest two of my Mormon meetinghouses. Even more impressive is the amount of people here. I start to count. I count four hundred and eighteen people sitting down, and there are more standing and coming in and out the back. There are about a hundred and fifty people that come to my Mormon ward, and I know every one of them. I am so insignificant in the crowd of Catholics. I doubt that anyone notices me. I know that I seem to be a Catholic. My capacity for deception gives me a thrill.

I start my prayer again, but I get distracted by the sound of hundreds of people standing up and moving. Apparently it is time for the sacrament. People flood into the aisle, like the breaking of a dam. They line up and receive the sacrament one by one from the priest. It is beautiful. I leave my kneeling place and get in the back of the huge line. I take one step forward. The woman in front of me crosses herself. Then I remember I am not really a Catholic. I am a Mormon. We get our sacrament from silver trays passed down the aisle, not from priests.

I go back to my spot and, intent on finishing, start my prayer. Heavenly Father, I thank thee for the Catholics.

Why I loved my weekend:

The 3 girls I was with were awesome. I love them so much.

The hostel wasn’t sketchy at all and had clean bathrooms.

The Liberation Monument is beautiful. It is my favorite monument ever. I love that placement on the top of Gellert Hill. I love the way it is sculpted – so that she looks like she is standing against the wind. And I love the way it presents its message.

We climbed Gellert Hill in the rain, and the view was stunning.

I went to an expensive restaurant and got a salad with avocado and papaya and mango dressing. It was amazing; I’ve been missing fresh produce so much.

I wore my bright pink Nikes and felt really fast.

They don’t speak German in Hungary.

200 Hungarian forints are equal to 1 USD. There is a certain thrill from paying 2409 for dinner. It feels like your spending a small fortune.

I remembered random facts from when I was there last year. I was pretty impressed with my ability to retain information.

I felt so lucky to have been there twice in less than a year. I walked along marveling at how lucky I am.

We were standing on the Chain Bridge when the lights turned on. It was incredible to see it light up.

The hostel had free Internet.

- We went to St. Stephens Basilica 3 times. First time it was closed for a concert, the second time it was closed for a wedding, and the third time it was finally open.

The first time we went I saw the words “ERO SUM VIA VERITAS ET VITA”. I looked at it for a minute and realized I knew what it said because of the Latin class I took this year. Few things are as exciting as applying something you learned in school to life.

The third time I went to the Basilica it was Sunday and Mass was happening. It was beautiful! There was an excellent choir singing and organ playing and with the acoustics in there it was amazing to hear. There were a ton of people there, and I felt like an undercover Catholic. Actually watching the ceremony was really interesting too. It was really spiritual. Then when it was time for everyone to take the sacrament it was amazing to watch. All of a sudden, like half of the people just flooded into the main aisle to get it. It was like letting loose a dam. It took like 45 minutes for everyone who wanted it to get it. I stood at the side, watching. It’s a beautiful ceremony. I like Mass, but I’m not going to become a Catholic.

I ate amazing orange gelato. Amazing I tell you. Best I’ve had since last year.

The bus ride was gorgeous passing small towns and farms.

I really love the book I’m reading (Mountains Beyond Mountains by Tracy Kidder)

I got some cool cheap souvenirs.

Basically, it was the perfect weekend in Budapest.

Budapest

Guess what I don't have on Monday?

Any classes.

Ask me where I'm going tomorrow?

To Budapest.

Guess what language they speak in Budapest?

Not German.

Guess what the exchange rate is?

217 forints to one dollar.

Bound to be a good weekend?

I think so.

I know German

I promised a happier post today, and here it is.

The best part of yesterday was when I wrote 15 sentences in German. Here they are:

Ich heiße Hannah Pugh. Ich komme aus Utah. Meine Adresse is Andergasse 22. Meine Postleitzahl ist 1170. Meine Telefonnummer ist 801-518-1244. Mein Geburtsort ist Dartmouth, New Hampshire. Mein Geburtstag is 26.06.1994. Ich bin fünfzehn. Ich bun 157 cm groß. Ich wohne im Wien. Ich bin Studentien. Ich studiere in Österreich. Ich lerne Deutsch am AAIE. Ich bin nett. Reisen und Wandern macht mir spaß.

That is pretty much all the German I know. But let's be honest, I'm proud of it.

Bad Day

Today was a bad day.

I woke up late and missed the bus by seconds. I stood at my front door and watched it drive away. Hence I had to walk half an hour to get the streetcar to school. I barely made it to class on time. Barely. 1 minute before it started. Class was long and boring.

After class, I went to a café to work on my essay for my english class back home that I should have finished forever ago but am just now finishing. It is the one on the meaning of life, and it really upset me to write it. I was on the verge of tears. And I’m still not quite done with it.

I've had a miserable headache since 2. It is now 9.

After that I had to go meet the group for dinner. I had the address from Tom. He told me langasse 20. I was late and decided to take a taxi rather than try to find my way on public transport. 20 minutes into the taxi ride, he gets to langasse 20. It wasn’t where I was supposed to be. The taxi driver called his wife who looked up the restaurant on the internet. Turns out it was langSTRASSE 20. Tom had given me the wrong address. So 40 minutes late, I arrived at dinner, 30 euros broker.

I walked out from the stop and ran across the street while literally watching my bus drive away. So I had to wait 10 minutes for the next one.

Then I was waiting for the bus and some guy walked up to me and started talking to me. He was gross and he was hitting on me (because I look pretty today). I had to deal with that for 10 minutes, and then he got on the bus I was going to get on, but I didn’t want to have to deal with him any longer, so I didn’t get on and had to wait 10 minutes for the next one.

My favorite jeans are starting to rip.

Feel sorry for me.

I will blog tomorrow and it will be happier.

Schmetterling Haus

Schmetterling is the only pretty word in the German language.

The Schmetterling Haus is the imperial butterfly house. It is basically a huge greenhouse and it is fill of butterflies (duh). It is like a 2 minute walk away from school. School is right next to the opera house. I love that it is in the center of Vienna.

Yesterday, during photography class, Tom decided to take us to the Schmetterling Haus. I took lots of pictures (click on the link on your right). However, I was scared. I know, scared of butterflies. Sounds pathetic. Kinda is. But I was so jumpy. These huge butterflies were randomly flying into my face. I may have shrieked. It was awful.

I am going to go back tommorrow and enjoy it. It is a place to be enjoyed.

Address

I gave everyone the wrong address before I left.

If you are sending letter and or packages, my real address is:

Operngasse 4

1010 Wien

Skype

I got to talk to my very best friend Miss Katerina Christensen on Skype on Sunday. Here is how the whole thing went down:

I sent her an email that planned a skype for next sunday. Then she was on facebook and I was like NOW GET ON SKYPE NOW. And she did!

Did I mention I was at Burger King using their free internet?

So she skyped me and it was so exciting, but the problem was that I didn't have headphones. I didn't want all of Burger King hearing my conversation. So I leaned over to the man next to me and asked if I could use his headphones. He said yes.

Then I skyped Kat for 45 minutes and it was great because I love Kat.

Then I gave the man next to me his headphones back.

Barefoot Sprints

Frau has a rule that we wear socks at all times in the house.

I don't like wearing socks with shoes, much less when I should be barefoot.

Every night when I come home, I decide to make a run for it. I pick up my shoes, take off my socks, and sprint up the stairs. Sometimes, I can hear Frau talking on the phone in another room. But I always make it.

One of these days I am going to get caught and there will be hell to pay.

Until then, I will continue to run barefoot sprints.

2 week update

In like every email I've gotten in the past 2 days, I've been asked for some sort of "Hannah update". So i figure you, my adoring reader, are also longing for an update. Hence my new (only) tradition of "The every other Sunday, 2 week update". Starting today:

Being a grownup is hard.

I don't like having to manage my own money. It is a small cause of stress daily. I want that, How much is that, Can I afford that, I need to go to an ATM, Should I pay with cash or with my card, What is the conversion rate like etc. Being in charge of my own finances is not nearly as fun as I thought it would be.

I am learning to like Frau. She is old (so old my parents seem young) but she really loves having us in her house. She's really sweet. She likes to make sure that we are taken care of. Her English isn't very great, but we communicate well enough.

My daily schedule is something like this:

Wake up at 8
Catch bus at 9, change on 2 street cars, get to school about 9:45
Writing or Photography class from 10-11:20
Lunch/study for German
1-3:00 German
3-9:30 Enjoy Vienna
9:30 go home
10:00 get home and spend the rest of the night writing in my journal, studying, etc.

Adjusting to Austian life has proved easier than I thought. The first two days were awful, but I am learning about the different way of life here. I have mastered the short shower. I go to the billa and but lunch or dinner for the day there. I love public transportation. I get to walk so many places, it's great. Life in Vienna is good.

College is harder than I thought. I like my photo class. That link on your right is my photo blog for the trip. I adore writing class. Adore it. I am making this super awesome journal that I write in and paste things in. It is going to be so cool when I'm done. German class is hell. I hate it. I don't really want to learn German, but I am learning it anyway. I got a B on my first test. I was weirdly excited about it.

The group is nice. Sometimes I fit right in, but sometimes I am a lot younger. Like that 2 of them are getting married in the next 6 months. When they talk about how they want to get married or plan their weddings, I am a lot younger.

The weather is cold. Very cold. And it rains. I don't like raining cold. I think 2010 is the year of the eternal winter. I am going to buy a warmer coat and rainboots once I work up the nerve to spend the money. I may never work up the nerve though.

I miss my friends and family back home. Surprise surprise, email is not quite enough to build a relationship on. I am, however, mastering the long-distance relationship.

Europeans hate me. I am sorry I am an American. Very sorry. Please don't hate me until you get to know me.

You know that quote "Do something everyday that scares you". I am. And I am loving it.

That's your 2 week update. I hope it fulfilled all expectations.

We're Mormons

Today the group was hanging out in a cafe.

A woman with pamphlets walks up: "Hi, it looks like you guys are having fun, I don't want to interrupt, but I just wanted to tell you about our great drinking experience tonight. You get 90 minutes free drinking and if..."

Me: "We're mormons"

Her: "Oh you are?"

Walks away....

The hostel epic

First, I need to say that if you emailed me and I have yet to email back, don't worry, I will, probably once I get back to Vienna. But I can only do so much internet at once, and right now I have stories to tell.

If you know me very well, or at all really, you will know that I am not a hostel sort of person. I am a hotel sort of person. Hostels scare me. But for Prague this weekend, the group decided to stay in the cheapest hostel possible (40 euros for 3 nights). So I was a little worried before I left Vienna.

The bus ride between Vienna and Prague was beautiful. I looked out the window for 4 hours and watched the fields, flowers, and houses go by. I even saw the sun set over the Czech countryside. Talk about experiencing life.

When we got in to this God-forsaken bus stop in Prague, I got a little worried. We had no idea where we were and it was dark and it was not a nice sort of bus stop to be at. We decided the best plan of action would be to take the metro. So we went down like 6 escalators, got on a metro and hoped it was right.

We got off, and walked to our hostel. It was underground (literally) and smelled scary. This man with a unibrow and red glasses was at the front desk. We told him our reservation and he was like "you've been moved to a different hostel. I thought you'd been informed. Here's the adress." So we went out side and started trying to find our new hostel.

We had no idea where we were really going, but thought we were probably on the right track. Then we passed a woman wearing nylons, 6 inch heels, tight v-neck tank top, a hot pink skirt that was as tight and as short as they come, and a rhinestone belt buckle. She was standing on the curb, rubbing her plastic nails together. That's right. I saw my first real live European prostitute. I was so glad our hostel was in such a great part of town.

We finally made it to our hostel. It's theme color is bright pink. It's name? "Purr Purr Crib 15". So classy. I was practically hypervenilating. I don't do well when put in sketchy situations. But we got our room key and we had our own private room with 6 beds for us. We have to share a bathroom with a bunch of asians, but it's okay.

Being a starving college student is fun.

That one time

Disclaimer: You know how teenage girls like quotes that pretend to be deep and poetic but are really bull. Well this is one of those moments.

Last night it started raining and I got totally drenched. I was actually ringing out my hair. And I was lost. So as I was walking (freezing cold) I found the most perfect cafe. I sat down for a drink (no, not alcohol of corse) and then I realized this place had free internet. It was indeed the most perfect cafe in all of Europe.

So I opened up my email, read some lovely emails from family and friends (by the way. Is anyone reading this blog? Am I pouring my soul out to an empty internet? Comment if you exist?) And then I read an email from my english teacher who I've emailed probably 4 times, but he only just got back to me. Anyway, his email was about my essay, which I have to turn in soon. So I read his feedback and started working on my essay.

The only problem is that my essay is about the meaning of life in the book The Razor's Edge, and he said I have to decide what the meaning of life or else the essay won't work.

So I decided the meaning of life sopping wet in a cafe in Vienna.

Now doesn't that just seem like the ultimate cliche teenage girl facebook status?

In other news, I bought a bus ticket to Prague today (40 euros. Cheap!). For tomorrow. Is that crazy or what? Me (and lots of kids in my group) will be in Prague tomorrow. Crazy or what?

Not all disaster

I just realized that every one of my blog posts has been about something gone wrong. Not everything here has gone wrong. Lot’s of things have gone right. I’m having a wonderful time. When things go wrong, it just makes for better stories. Here is a list of things I did on Saturday without incident:

-Went to the Nashtmarkt for Saturday flea market.

-Went to a food festival.

-Went to Prater (need to go back).

-Played on a playground.

-Took pictures.

-Ate gelato.

-Read a chapter in a book.

-Ate at Einstein Café.

-Stole Internet from a hotel (didn’t bother to blog though).

So I haven’t blogged in a while, so the 3 posts below are from this weekend (but they are good, so suck it up and read them):

Public Transportation

For the past 15 years, my primary mode of transportation has been luxury cars. Lorin’s Lexus, and my mom’s various luxury cars bought by Lorin (she’s gone through BMW, Audi, Mercedes and is currently driving a Lexus). On occasion I walk, but only if I’m walking somewhere in pepperwood. And sometimes I take trax downtown, because it’s a pain for my mom to have to drive 2 hours roundtrip so I can get downtown. But basically, I get places on leather seats listening to satellite radio. Except in Vienna, I walk or I ride public transportation in all it’s glory, plastic seats, bad smells, and lots of strangers. But here’s the thing: I love it. I never want to drive a car again. I love figuring out how to go where I want to. I like to know that I can do it. I like looking out the window and pretending to be bored out of my mind like everyone else, but secretly loving it. I love the feeling of "if we look out the window we won't have to look at eachother. We can't look at eachother." I love the way the handholds swing like nooses. I like looking out the window. I like following my gut when I get off and ending up the right place. I like watching people sway to and fro with inertia. I like public transportation. Who would have thought?

A certain kind of girl

If you have ever met me (and I assume you have) you know that I generally don’t like people. People annoy me. There is however, a specific kind of girl who annoys me the very most. I have met several such girls, and though I cannot tell you their names, I can describe them in perfect detail. Somehow, they are all the exact same, and I can detect one within the first minute of our conversation. Here are the characteristics of such girls:

-They are especially insecure around guys. Consequently, they “argue” with them But their “arguments” simply consist of the girls pretending to be superior (usually intellectually) and insulting the guy (the more attractive he is, the ruder the insults). But they can only insult them on one thing like his height, intelligence, or the way he dresses. The guy is used to it, doesn’t like her, and is really annoyed, so he is rather rude to her back, and this makes her even more insecure.

-They love to say, “I’m hyper today”. They will say this everyday, and it is never a good excuse for being so damn annoying. And they are never more or less hyper from day to day.

-If you ask a question, such as “how much homework do you have a night?” They will reply with something like “I’m not even going to tell you that” or “You don’t want to know”. No, I do want to know. That’s why I asked. No answer you give me will scar me for life, scare me etc. I can handle it, promise.

-They touch you. On the arm, shoulder, side, head, hair, back, neck, etc. They think it makes you better friends.

-They are poorly dressed. Their styles are a mixture of all sorts of other styles, but they don’t match. For instance, vintage (grandma) shoes, denim skirt, silk blouse, and some sort of hat. It’s a disaster, with pieces that have potential, but together, it looks like they put their closet on shuffle and wore what came out.

-They have this tone. I can’t describe it. It is like sarcasm mixed with that scared tone people have when they are speaking in public and don’t want to be. It is painful to listen to.

-They love me. I walk in a room and they come to me like I’m some sort of magnet. And then I play along nice for a while until I can’t stand them anymore and go make new friends, but I always feel guilty for abandoning the first person to talk to me.

It just so happens that there is one of these girls in my new ward. And here’s the shocker; she latched on to me. So, we’ll see how that goes. I suppose I can probably sit next to her for 2 hours once a week 12 more weeks in a row (yes that is 24 total hours).

Mozart.

Today a man dressed as Mozart hit on me. He was working at das Oper, handing out pamphlets in front. All I asked him was where the Uban was. He told me. Then he told me that I looked like I was Finish. I told him I was from Utah. He said that my mother probably had an affair in Finland of which I was the result. Charming. Classy. Then he told me that he was a 32 year old studying classical music. Then he asked for my number. So I lied and told him I didn't have one. So he gave me his email. I walked away promising to email him. Don't worry though, that won't happen.

What does it say about me if the first adult to ask for my number was dressed like Mozart?

The street car epic

What a day! Where to start?

I was pretty stressed yesterday morning. The first day of classes, the classes were looking to be harder than I’d expected. I was feeling over my head. I wanted to come home. I was scared.

I had my first German class yesterday. The teacher was boring. She had this stupid dialogue. That pretty much consisted of “Guten Tag ich heiser Hannah. Wie heisen see?” Then she had everyone in the class do it. A lot of times. It went on an on. I don’t really want to take German, but I think once I start to be able to use it I’ll like it a lot more.

After German I needed to go study for my AP test. So I went to this two story starbucks to study. And guess what? A soy no water chai tea latte tastes the same in Vienna as in Sandy, Utah. I spent about four and a half hours studying there. I think I’m ready for this test. And I felt a lot better. I want to stay. Once I had something that was a little familiar, I felt good.

There were some Austrian teenagers and their math tutor sitting next to me. For some reason, they spoke in English. They could not understand how to foil out (x +y)(x-y)I felt vastly superior. I can take the limit as x approaches infinity of that (new skill I learned before I left). I like feeling smarter than people and I like math. I don’t care what that makes me; it’s true. A part of me even misses math class. Math is one of those things that is familiar and always the same, like a soy no water chai tea latte.

At 19:30, I decided I should go home. The sun was getting ready to set and I did not want to be going home alone in the dark (even though during orientation Frau Weissburger said, “Vienna is a safe city. If you are walking home alone at 10:00 at night you don’t need to worry”). But as soon as I got outside I was in such a good mood and so happy to be there I went out walking a little bit. The city is so beautiful. I know it’s strange, but that was the moment I decided I wanted to stay. Walking around discovering this one street in Vienna. I want to do that every day.

At 8:15, the sky was the after-the-sun-has-set-but-before-it’s-dark blue. So I decided to start heading home. I got on the “D” streetcar. When in 5 stops, my stop hadn’t come I looked up at the map and realized I was on the streetcar going the wrong way. So I decided rather than get off in some random place, I would take the car all the way around the circle. I knew it would take longer than I wanted, but I thought that was the best bet.

So when we crossed the Danube, I stayed on. And when everyone got off at one stop, I stayed on, reasoning that they were just not riding it all the way around like me. And when the streetcar stopped and the conductor got out, I reasoned that it was just like the train at the Hilton in Hawaii and they were switching conductors. After 5 minutes the train didn’t start, so I decided I would just get out and figure something out. So I pushed the door open button. Nothing happened. I pushed it again. Still nothing. I was locked in the streetcarI had been really calm until this point, but then I started crying. Then I started laughing. I laugh when things go wrong. When things go wrong if you look on it from an outside perspective, it’s funny. A teenage American who speaks no German being stuck in a streetcar in Vienna because she was too dumb to get off is funny.

I didn’t want to use the emergency exit buttons because Markus said that some students have accidently used them in the past and they are really expensive. I wanted to buy shoes, not new emergency doors on public transportation.

I saw a guy in his 20s walking his dog passing me. I pounded on the window and after 35 seconds, he noticed me. He started laughing, and I laughed with him. It was funny. He got the conductor who turned the streetcar back on. I pushed the button and the door opened.

“Danke” I shouted, rather high pitched, to my knight in shining armor. He shouted something back, but I couldn’t understand it. At this point it was dark enough the street lights were helping me to see, but I could still see fine. I decided I needed to find my way home.

There were 2 old men with potbellies sitting on a bench. I walked up to them and in a moment of inspiration using German I didn’t know I knew said, “Sprecken Sie English?” They laughed, probably having just seen my rescue from the streetcar, and said “Nein. Deutsch”. In my arrogant American way, I had expected them to speak English. I speak English. Why shouldn’t they?

I walked away, looking for some way to get off. I had no idea where I was other than on the wrong side of the Danube. I looked at the various public transportation signs, but none of them were the streetcars I knew nor the U-ban. They were all buses going to places I didn’t want to.

I crossed the street and saw a taxi coming. I did what I’d seen done in movies and raised my hand above my head. He stopped! I hailed my very first taxi. As he stopped, I thought It’s a Volkswagen. I want a Mercedes. Then I realized the absurd snobbyness of that and got in the taxi. It smelled like cigarettes, but I needed to go home. I told him my address; very glad I’d memorized it accidently. He said it would cost 20 Euros to get home. I would have given him everything in my wallet to get home.

He started to drive, and soon I saw that I was in the 16^th district. I was relieved to be getting close to home. After about 10 minutes, I realized that on the street we were driving on, every sign had the word sex in one form of another in it. I started laughing again, hoping things wouldn’t go badly.

It didn’t go badly. I got home. My cab driver asked for 16 Euros. I was so glad to be home I gave him 20. Looking back that probably wasn’t necessary. But I was ready to go inside and I didn’t want to wait for change.

I strangely feel like a thousand times more comfortable in Vienna now. It’s weird. I should be terrified of getting stuck in a street car again. But I’m not. I guess I feel like I can get myself out of anything. I can do this. I would try most anything now. My fear of Vienna is gone.

When I got inside, I decided to take my first shower. Water and electricity are very expensive here. And my water is heated with electricity. So I have to take short showers. I turned the water on and got my hair wet. Turned it off. Put shampoo in my hair. Turned it on. Washed out the shampoo. Turned it off. Put conditioner in. Shaved. Turned the water back on. Rinsed out the conditioner. Turned the water off. I probably only used 2 minutes of hot water. I felt pretty good about that.

Have I mentioned that my bathroom door is made of glass? It is a regular door but the middle ¾ in glass. It is that slightly opaque glass, so it isn’t see-through, but you can see some. I don’t like having a glass bathroom door.

I studied a little bit more, and was studying when my housemates came home. They gave me a note:

“Hannah,

We just wanted to write you a note to say good luck with your AP European History test tomorrow. We are glad you are here with us in Vienna. You are a very smart and confident girl, and like we have all told you at some point: you don’t seem fifteen at all. You are so impressive that you have the guts to come on a trip wit a bunch of college kids, and take college classes. We don’ t doubt that you will do well on your exam and be able to enjoy the rest of the summer with us. Viel gluck! Wir lieben dich!

The group had signed it.

Can I just say that this makes me feel so much better? I think I do get the little sister role. I think I’m okay with that. I am so happy to be here. This is going to be such a good summer. I can feel it.

Home?

Yesterday was a big day! I couldn’t sleep after 2:45, so I got up then. A group of us (about 6 girls) who couldn’t sleep were all in a room hanging out together. One girl asked me if I go to BYU. I couldn’t lie, so I told her (and consequently) everyone else that I was still in high school and 15 years old. They were surprised and didn’t believe me at first. Apparently I am in fact a good college student.

After breakfast at the hotel, we checked out and headed to the Austro-American institute. We had an orientation of sorts there and walked around Vienna a bit. I am in love with this city. The buildings are gorgeous, and there seems to always be something interesting to observe. At one point, I saw a starbucks and an H&M on the same street. As we passed starbucks, we saw people who had just been pick pocketed checking their wallets. Our guide told us that is the international flag for starbucks. Anyway after wandering a bit, we got lunch and went back to the institute to meet our host families.

My host “family” is not in fact a family. She is a 80ish year old lady. Her name is Frau Drapal. She speaks a limited amount of English and is very Austrian. She has been hosting foreign exchange students for 20+ years. She lives in a big house all alone. I do have my own room. It is about 6 feet wide and 12 feet long. But it is mine. I am so glad to have some space of my own in this country. My house has a big garden in it. My window looks right out to it. I am excited to go play in it when it is summer.

Last night I was feeling awful. I was feeling so out of place. I really just wanted to come home. Before I left, I didn’t make the connection that I would be living in a European household, not an American one in Europe. Things are so different here. For breakfast I ate bread with butter and marmalade. I have to wear socks in the house. There is a limited amount of hot water so I don’t get to shower very often. Everything is different. I have never felt so out of place, uncomfortable, and alone in my life. I am scared. I know I will learn to adjust and that will be good for me. But for about a week this is not going to be easy.

This morning I woke up to a thunderstorm. I found it strangely comforting. It sounded like thunderstorms in Utah. I was remembering when I was little and when really big thunderstorms would come. The sky light up almost constantly with lightning and rumbling wit thunder. Lorin loves those thunderstorms. He would wrap me up in a blanket and raincoat and we would go outside to experience the thunderstorm. I liked that. Lorin would have liked this thunderstorm.

I got up at 5:45 this morning feeling really well rested. I got about 10 hours of sleep. That is so good. I need sleep. I love my little room. I like that it is small. It makes me feel safe. I am going to the institute this morning for my first classes. I have writing at 10 and German at 1. I also have to study for my AP test tomorrow. I am trying not to stress about that, but I really need to study. Class ends at 3, and I think I’m going to spend the hours after studying (at Starbucks). I think I can get a 4. I have to miss my second German class though. I hope that works out.

There is no Internet at my house. There is Internet at the Institute though. So I will, without question, have Internet on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday in the midday. On Friday and Saturday I will probably be able to find some access somewhere, supposedly starbucks has it. On Sunday, all the shops close down, so I will probably not be able to use the Internet at all. This scares me a lot. My connection with those I love is limited. I am here in Europe with no parent (or like figure), no (close) friends (I don’t really know the group very well) and limited connection to those I know and love at home.

Dinner

Last night we went to dinner. The people of the Austro-American institute picked us up and took us to this pizza place. The menu was in german. I had no translator. I had to guess. I ended up with a pizza with spinach and ricotta and buffalo mozzarella. It was good. But it looked awful. Then, after dinner we had to find our way back home. Alone. But we made it.

I've been up since 2:45. But I'm not tired yet.

I outed myself. Everyone knows I'm 15. They asked. I couldn't lie. Little sister role here I come. At least now I don't have to make up some excuse to go take my AP test.

I went to antropologie's website. The prices are in Euros. Where am I?

I get to meet my host family today. I hope they are nice. And they have internet.

Arrived

Well, I'm here.

The flights were long. The flight to Vienna had this really cool camera in the cockpit aimed so you could see out the window and the camera was connected to the little TVs in front of everyone. So, watching Vienna break out of the clouds was incredible. I love this city.

We got to our hotel for tonight and showered and slept. It was needed. I don't normally get jet lagged, but today I was. I think it was because I didn't sleep enough.

I am happy and content. I am so glad I am here. This is going to be good.

All ready

So, Here I sit,

On my right are my two fully packed suitcases and my backpack.

My laptop is charging because I want it to be ready for a long plane ride tomorrow.

I have my plane clothes all set out.

This is the cleanest my room has been in several months.

I'm not sure how to feel. My eyes feel like they would like to cry, my stomach feels like it would like to vomit and my head feels like it's ready to go.

Here's to my adventure.

The end of goodbye

I will be at the airport in 30 hours.

Saying goodbye is rotten.

I cried.

I will miss them.

I want to go.

But leaving is still wretched.