Wandering the Stadt

Howdy Friends and Neighbors, and a big tip o' the lid from Vienna.  Reverend Squeaky-Eye here.  Once again I have the tiller for the Blog duties.  Marco is off in the corner shaking like a dog pooping peach pits.  I believe that this week's affliction is a nervous breakdown caused by Prepositional Adverbs.  I wish him the best with that.  Anyway, where were we?

 In Vienna, one of the things that is sort of a required item is a bicycle.  I'm here to tell you Brothers and Sisters that this is one serious bicycle town.  It easily puts the most bike friendly towns in the ole' US of A to shame.  Why, Vienna makes Eugene, Oregon, seem like west Texas.  The thing that is hard to deal with is that the Wieners actually yield the right of way to bicyclists.  It's a damn difficult switch from the normal routine of "Argh!!  Torches and Pitchforks!!  Kill the Cyclists!!" to the Vienna model of cars stopping for a cyclist at a bike crossing on one of the many, many, many designated bike routes. 

"Okay, okay, they stop for you at bike paths and there are lots of the bike paths.  Got it.  So what has that got to do with the big concrete tower?"  Sorry Folks, I got a little carried away there. 

The shops here tend to be real proud of their bikes, so the place to buy a ride is on Willhaben, which is the Austrian equivalent of Craig's List, albeit with a slightly higher degree of responsible behavior.

After learning the tricks to 'For Sale' ads written in deutsch, we found a likely mountain bike located just off of the Augarten on the other side of the Donau Kanal.  Some of you may remember that this was one of Marco's favorite spots in Vienna.  It is also one sites of the giant Flak Towers, of which there are three pair.  Bike shopping and sight-seeing were combined on a very frosty morning.

Here's Marco on the new steed:

Marco Rides the New Bike

Just a second there Friends, let me check on the old boy.  Naw, I don't think he'll be coming out of this anytime soon.  It was a combination of things that laid him low, but all of them to do with Deutschgrammatik.  Myself, I ignore the grammar altogether, just like a lot of the good Wieners.  You see, there is Hoch Deutsch, sort of the German version of the King's English, and then there are all the dialects.  Now Wienerisch is about as far from Hoch Deutch as  Donald Trump is from sanity.  But to learn the dialects, well, first you have to learn the grammar.  When Marco tells any of the good Wien Volk that he is studying the dreaded Grammtik, they all shake their heads in a sort of Baptist Commiseration nod (you can almost hear the implied "mmm, mmm, mnh") and say "Deutches Sprache ist schwer Sprache."  German Language is Hard Language. 

Left to my own devices, I have had a chance to wander further afield. Spring continues to be a tentative business here, but there is some hope.

One of the strangest sights that I have seen is a real Unimog parked on the street.  Not only is this one of the oddest vehicles a fella can come across, this particular one is owned by an attorney who advertises his trade via said Unimog.  There must be some other message here, but I'm befuddled.  

This is a case that crazy doomsday-prepper lawyer I've heard so much about!!

And of course, there are the Stadtwanderwegs.  Now it's three down and, I think, six more to go.  The sun came out so it was off to on the U-6 to the U-4 and then a quick bus ride to the base of the Sophien Alp, one of the hills that make up the Wienerwald.  I just love being able to ride the public transport to go hiking.  Jolly civilized.

Not exactly a balmy summer day, but at least the sun was out.  And it was gorgeous.

So it was over the hills and through the woods, another fine four-hour walk.  My favorite folk are the old couples out climbing the hills and tromping the woods.   Folks here do enjoy a good walk.

Well, I had better tend to Marco before he swallows his tongue or something.  I'm wishing the Brethren and Sisteren out there all the best.  Ya'all be well and keep dodging that Downpressor Man.

Learning the Ropes

Hey Ho, Friends and Neighbors.  Reverend Squeaky-Eye here, coming at you from the sunny and cool shores of the Donau.  The last few weeks have been spent trying to learn more about my role here while Marco mutters about Deutschgrammatik and other demons.  When he isn't torturing language syntax or tapping away on his laptop, he occasionally pretends he remembers how to work.  His Sweetie-Pie bought him his very own Super-Mario-Pants, which he is overly proud of.  If only the poor sod had him some real work, instead of his demeaning scribbling.

 Yes, there he is, pretending to do some real work.  Ha!

Marco had been trying to explain this Ex-Pat thing to me, but I still don't quite understand.  It seems that there are two basic functions for an Ex-Pat.  Moreover, these two functions seem to be the same across the globe.  The first task of an Ex-Pat is to be as snooty as possible to any tourists that come to the place or city occupied by said Ex-Pat.  It is very important to be extra snooty to any tourists from one's own country.  The second task of any Ex-Pat is to complain about the local folks, the local language, and any other local stuff that is handy.  

Like I said, I'm struggling with this.  I pointed out to Marco that if we follow this protocol, there wasn't much left to enjoy except other Ex-Pats.  He said no, we were supposed to be a little standoffish with other Ex-Pats as well.  So I sez to him, let me get this straight.  We have to be snooty to tourists, extra snooty to tourists from the USA, complain about everything else, and be standoffish to any other Ex-Pats we meet.  He told me I was getting the gist of it and to keep practicing.  I tell you Friends and Neighbors, I'm not sure I'm cut out for this sort of behavior.  Marco sez those are the rules and to just deal with it.  I think maybe he's gone a little bonkers.  But I ignore him most of the time anyway so I don't see why I should change now.

I am learning that spring in Vienna is a tentative thing.  Spring sort of creeps about in a doubtful way, not really sure of itself.  I think that the Austrian Spring lacks confidence.  When the sun does shine, I try to make the most of it.  One of the best ways to do this is by heading out to the Stadtwanderwegs.  Wien is ringed by the Wienerwald, the forested hills on the north, west and southern edges of the Stadt.  The Donau, or Danube river, makes up the eastern side, although Wien spills across the Donau into the beginning of the Hungarian plain.  The Stadtwanderwegs are fantastic hiking trails that are accessible via public transport.  Genius!  Hop on the U-Bahn, transfer to a tram or a bus and bingo!

 

This is the beginning of Stadtwanderwef Eins, #1, right off the end of the tram line.  Beethoven used to live just up this little street.  He was a grumpy bastard so he often got thrown out of his digs and had to move somewhere else.  He lived all over Wien.  They have erected statues of him now that he is too dead to pay the back rent he owed.

Here is the groovy method the Wieners use for utility poles.  The wooden pole is bolted to a concrete anchor.  The pole doesn't touch the ground so it doesn't rot.  Clever, yes?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Spring is trying, but it is a slow go.

 

 

Another great feature about the Stadtwanderwegs is that they always have little cafes or garden restaurants scattered along the route.  The Viennese do like their tucker.  I'm getting damn fond of it as well, regardless of the Ex-Pat complaining thing.

 

 

This is Barlauchsuppe, a yummy treat made of a sort of wild garlic herb that has a very short season in the spring.  You will see folks wandering about gathering the wild plants.

 With a schnitzel as big as two pancakes and a bowl of tater salad, a fella can stay on his feet a good long time.

I may not understand this whole living abroad thing, but I'm having a damn fine time.  Since I have chosen to ignore the silly Ex-Pat rules, I find that the Viennese folks are pretty friendly once you get them to warm up a little bit.  There is a lovely dark sense of humour that permeates the culture here, something that is damn fun once you get the hang of it.  The Wieners love to complain about stuff, but they also make jokes about the complaining.  Perky behavior confuses them as much as a big smiley greeting on the street.  It's a fun way to keep them on their toes.  

That's about it for now, I guess, so I'll be signing off.  Be well and happy folks!

 

Put it in a Box

Howdy Friends and Neighbors, Reverend Squeaky-Eye here.   It has been a good long while since I have had the pleasure of addressing you fine Sisters and Brothers.  What with moving all the way across the ocean, from the New World to the Old World as the scholars call it, and the varied meanderings of life's stream, time has a way of getting the best of a fella.

Anyway, and be that as it may, Marco has turned over the helm for the time being.  Between his struggles with the Demon of Deutsche Grammar and the joyful burden of scribbling novels, his time is stretched tighter than a bean pole with a good crop come August.  Basically, he just walked off muttering something like "Do what you can Rev."  Never being one to let fall the cudgels when a Brother is in a pinch, I am happy to take up the tale and try to move things forward.

During my hiatus, I have spent a fair share of my time pondering the state of the planet.  Now I know, I know, you're going to say to me "Reverend Squeaky-Eye, just what do you mean by that?  Things are in a hell of a mess."  You would be right to ask just that question and I would be agreeing with you most heartily.  In fact, there would be so many lines of inquiry that a man could get as befuzzled as a bird dog trying to point in four directions at one.  So, before we head off all half-cocked, I figured we could just settle in on one tiny line of discussion and see where it leads us.

Friends and Neighbors, what I have been pondering on is the nature of the Infinite and the Finite.  Now, your truly infinite items are rare indeed.  For example, take a mother's love for a truly ornery child.  We all know that child, that little hell-raiser, the one that despite all efforts to the contrary ends up dumping molasses on the family cat and gets one hell of a kick out of doing so.  This little hellion shreds the fabric of the patience of all those around him, and yet, and yet still, the mother of this little beast continues to love and cherish him, molasses dumping notwithstanding.  The love of that mother is infinite, and it is a damn good thing because no one else can stand the brat.

Now, aside from a mother's love and few other wonders of nature, most everything else is finite.  Now I can hear you asking me "Reverend, how are you defining the word finite?"  Good for you, because that is the nub of the question and I think that I have a solid answer.  Regardless of what resource we are talking about, if you can put the thing in a box, it is finite.  It doesn't matter how big the box is, if you can imagine it fitting into a box, the item in question becomes a finite resource.

Now why would this matter to anyone?  What I am really getting at is the fact that we are just not doing the best job of managing the resources of this fine planet.  Let's just take two examples and see where they run to, how about that? 

Most of us use steel everyday.  Now I don't mean that we are out forging steel, although I send a tip of the Rev lid to all of those hard-working men and women in the steel plants.  Nor are most of us beating swords into ploughshares, more's the pity.  What I mean to say is that we depend on steel for our day-to-day existence, as the skeletons for our office buildings, the ships and rails that transport our goods, the frames for our automobiles.  One of the crucial ingredients in the magical mix that becomes steel is an element called Molybdenum.

If you refer to your handy Periodic Table of Elements, you will find Molybdenum at number 42.  It is the 54th most common element in the earth's crust.  Most of the Molybdenum mined in the world comes from China, the USA and Chile.  The stuff looks a lot like lead, but it contributes some amazing stuff to the properties of steel.  It makes steel harder and tougher and increases the strength of steel, particularly at high temperature.  This crazy lead-like metal has one of the highest melting points of all of the naturally occurring elements, staying solid up to a whopping 4,753 degrees Fahrenheit.  That is about on par with the fires of hell, near as I can figure.  Of course, the fires of hell might just be a sort of metaphorical, if you get my drift. 

So, why should any of us care about this MO stuff, this elemental 42?  Well, without Molybdenum, steel as we know it would be a mighty different thing.  Now, there is still a lot of this stuff rooted in the earth's crust.  This is not a rare element.  The question is, as we have posed above, is this a finite resource?  We an give it the test.  If we took all of the MO 42 on old Planet Earth, could we put it all in a box?  The answer is yes.  Granted, that would have to be one big durned box.  The point is though, if we had a box big enough, and we had all of the Molybdenum, we could do just that.  So, yes, a finite resource. 

Now let's go back to our Periodic Table of Elements.  You've got it handy, right.  Good.  Okay then, wander on down past ole' number 42.  Down a bit further, between numbers 57 and 71, inclusive,  you will find yourself smack dab amongst the Rare Earths.  No, Brethren, this is not an old rock band.  The Rare Earths are very strange elements ranging from Lanthanum (No 57) right on through to Lutetium (No 71).  I know what you're asking:  "Good Rev, have you flipped your wig for real this time?  Why should anyone give a hoot about something with as silly a name as rare earth?"  I will answer your question with another?

Do you own a cellular phone?

You see, rare earth is an essential component of the tiny little magnetic bits that make up cellular phones.  Where would we be without those wonderful devices that let us have private conversations in public, send text messages while we are driving, and cause us to bump into things on the street that we would otherwise be paying attention to.  Truly, it is so bad that in Portland Oregon the folks that run the MAX train had to put up signs warning people to look up from their phones so as to avoid getting squashed like june-bugs.  Sorry, slight digression.  Back to the use of Rare Earths in cellular phones.

These elements are not named Rare Earths for nothing.  The stuff is rare.  The majority of the Rare Earth deposits are found in China.  Here is the deal:  no Rare Earth, no cel phones as we know them.  That's right, no smartphones.  (Really, are we smarter?)

So, could we gather up all of the Rare Earths and place them in a box?  Yes we could, and it would be a much smaller box than that big old thing we put all of the Molybdenum in.  Another finite resource. 

Finite, Infinite.  Now I know that there are some folks out that there that advocate "Wise-Use."  These folks believe that the our planet, and everything in or on it, was put here for our use.  These same folks advocate using up all of the resources as the natural course of things before the world comes to an end.  Setting aside the amazing top-of-the-food-chain egotism that this attitude implies, the sheer shortsightedness of of such an outlook is staggering.  I mean, think of even that little molasses dumping brat!  His momma loves him.  Shouldn't the horrid little beast have a chance to grow up and know that somewhere on the planet there will still be one bottle of molasses left?  There you go, another finite resourse.

I guess what it comes down to is just a small thought experiment.  When we are going through are daily tasks, caring for our Brethren, getting on with the business of getting on, how mindful are we being of what we are using up.  I'm suggesting that we think about what we leave in those boxes.  What will our own little infinitely loved children find when they open up the boxes, long after we are gone?

Well, that's about it for now Friends and Neighbors.  This is the Reverend Squeaky-Eye signing off.  Be happy, be well, and keep a sharp eye out for the old Downpressor Man.  Adios for now.