Snapshots With Words

While traveling by train from Stuttgart, Germany, to Graz, Austria, my husband and I who have been living in Austria for nearly eight months had the privilege of overhearing a fellow American. We were sitting across the isle from a lovely couple who looked like newlyweds. The pair spoke to one another in German as well as a middle-eastern sounding language, and they used English to order coffee and to politely ask if we could take their picture. Here in Europe one has the privilege of intermingling with people who have learned to dedicate time becoming familiar with other cultures and languages. Stuttgart Marktplatz While we enjoyed a beautiful view out of our picture window of the German and Austrian landscapes, our serenity was interrupted momentarily when we heard a man's voice utter in a southern American accent the words, "dumb ass." It was not long before we had confirmation that he was a traveler with little interest in learning about new cultures, when he c

I must clarify one thing before I begin:  The country listed in the title of this post is Austria. A horrifyingly popular belief among American citizens is that this is the land where kangaroos live. Oh wait, I said Austria, not Australia. This country with a rich history including Roman occupation, Napoleon's failed conquest of Graz, the birth of the Viennese coffee tradition, and the truth about Croissants is located in Europe. Austria neighbors Germany, Hungary, Switzerland, Slovenia, Slovakia, Italy and the Czech Republic. Popular belief has named the French as being the inventors of this deliciously delightful pastry filled with tender, melt in your mouth, buttery goodness, but the truth as far as we know it gives "croissant genius" credit to the Austrians. The legend of the croissant is one shrouded in mystery, with references to the Turks as possible originators, and Budapest is also included on the list. It is even said that monks around 1000 AD began makin

I am sitting inside of our old fashioned Graz apartment, with high ceilings and windows that overlook the street where the Stra β enbahns, or street cars, pass by every few minutes.  If I am feeling poetic enough they sound like waves crashing on the sea shore.  I can imagine seagulls flying overhead and a soft blue heaven with delicate clouds accentuating the scenery composed of sand, rocks, and gentle bluffs that embrace the foaming sea.   Our Austrian apartment is on what Americans would call the second floor, but what to a German speaking European is the “Erste Stock,” or first floor.  My favorite room is the living room, where I am sitting now, with its high ceiling, tall windows, and an old wooden floor that is perfect for reflecting the softened light from the sun as it sneaks past the tops of the many storied buildings and comes in through our windows.  The structures are all built together so that they look like one and the same building, or gigantic walls on either s