BBQ

Fleur trying to light the grill

 Back in May the weather turned from cold to gorgeous, the grass and leaves flourished, and we hosted an American-style BBQ, complete with American BBQ sauce.  Fleur and Katie - who had spent the first semester in Austria but the second semester in other countries, came back to visit.  Mostly we just had a great time hanging out, eating and drinking, and singing oldies and really bad 90s songs at the top of our lungs.  Needless to say, we had a blast.

Still trying to light the grill

Fleur and Maija

Katie, Nick and Fleur

Matt photobombed our nice picture.  This is a common theme in pictures with Matt

We schlepped the watermelon (and the grill!) the whole way from my apartment to the park. 

Watermelon massacre

Dave and Maria with one of many grilled bananas with chocolate

Yum.

The gang

Dave and Maija.  Dave went around the circle of people and hugged everyone

Dave and Fleur

Maija headbanging to Bohemian Rhapsody (most likely) and Fleur looking less than amused

From left: Annie, Fleur, Maija, Nora and Lars

Katie and Maria, having a moment

More Bohemian Rhapsody sing-alongs

Dinner the following night at Bärenwirt, a wirtshaus along the river

Augustiner beer, only the best beer in Salzburg (perhaps the world)

Nick and his knödel (dumpling) the size of a cannonball

Schnitzel Cordon Bleu, made into a little monster.  We might be teachers but that doesn't mean we're too old to play with our food.

Sunset over the Salzach

May Day (100th post!)

The view from my train window.

Back on the first weekend of May, I uploaded a bunch of these pictures and celebrated an inner victory over my 100th post.  That seems like a long time ago now, especially since I have about 20 more posts in the lineup.

My first weekend of May started with a train journey out to Bruck an der Mur (Bridge on the Mur), which is about a four hour train journey from Salzburg.  My friend Catherine (or Jäger to almost everyone in our Bowdoin German class) lived out in that direction, and I'd been promising her for a year that I would go visit her.  So with the end of the year in sight, I figured I'd better go.  Jäger actually lived in Judenburg (Jew Castle - I kid you not) which was a short train ride away.  We ended up in Bruck an der Mur due to a small get-together involving a bunch of Fulbrighters that I hadn't met.  I didn't realize how spoiled we were in Salzburg to have so many of us in the same place.  The poor people in rural Austria had to arrange "big" events to get a chance to see each other.  Jäger, for example, lived in a tiny village (or willage if you're a native German speaker) without any Americans, Brits, French, Spanish or Italians.  Just Austrians with a thick dialect.  On the plus side, her German is a million times better.

Anyway, I met a ton of new assistants, many of whom were not going to be back this year, at this party.  The following day, Jäger, Matt and I headed to Judenburg for Jäger's soccer game.  The game was most interesting because of her coach, who wore jean capris and shouted in incomprehensible dialect for most of the game.  Even to my ears, which are attuned to some strange German dialects, it sounded like "EWHODSIOEIOEFWHOIEWLKLKCCCHHHHHH." After that adventure, we took a small detour to a beautiful bridge and watched the sun set.  Then we headed back to Jäger's, and I rested up for my next adventure - the Maypole.

Jäger and Matt, my wonderful hosts for the weekend

Jäger's soccer game

Cool bridge

The view of another bridge from our bridge

The picnic group!

Bowdoin reunion

Matt photobombed.

This is what we waded through to get into the water

Our picnic site

The Maibaumfest (Maypole celebration...aka May Day) was essentially just another excuse to wear a dirndl and drink beer.  I guess it's kind of the beginning of beer-tent festivals, which apparently happen all summer long.  The celebration we went to was at the Stieglbräuwelt (Stiegl brew world, the Stiegl brewery), which had set up festivities both outside and inside.  It looked like a mini Oktoberfest, with fewer rides and longer dirndls, and with a giant pole in the middle.  Every once in a while, a brave soul would try to climb the maypole, which looked like no easy task.  We'd missed the major festivities, though, so I don't actually know if anyone succeeded in making it to the top.  Certainly no one did while we were there. 

The maypole

Madels in Dirndls

More Madels in Dirndls

Maija and Emily dancing

Maija's dizzy face

Prost!

Nora and Lars joined us

   

Austria, year two

Jumping pic!  Emily and I in front of (or behind?) the castle on my first full day back in Salzburg.

 Well hello again!  It's been a while.  A thousand things have happened between my last post and this one, not the least of which being that I have made it - safely - back to Salzburg.  Not only that, but I'm already settled back into my apartment and teaching classes.  This year I have a more manageable schedule, which hopefully will leave me more time to do things that I enjoy.  Blog, for example, or take pictures, or cook and bake.  I made a delicious pumpkin soup today (after all, 'tis the pumpkin season) and homemade caramel apples.  And now I'm blogging. Look at that!  

Though I have tons of serious and necessary updates to write about, I am going to start with today.  Wednesday is my day off - a thing I should be thankful for but can't help feeling a little wistful as I look at all of the people with their three and four day weekends around me.  Tough life, I know.  So with my day off I decided to try and find something that is very necessary: a new bra.  I am, after all, a girl, and sometimes it's just gotta happen.  I have bought my fair share of clothing here in Austria, but bra shopping is something different.  It's a frustrating task, and something that is also quite personal.  

But not in Austria.  

I walked into the store, knowing full well what I was looking for.  But the saleslady didn't believe me when I said I knew my size.  She asked me to take off my coat, which I did, and then she immediately grabbed me. She felt me up. She judged what size she thought I was and grabbed some bras.  When I told her that I knew that wasn't my size, she felt me up again. Had this happened in my first month last year, I would have died of shock and embarrassment.  Instead, I took it in stride, collected my dignity and my coat, and went into the fitting room with some bras (some of which still were not my size, but I'd learned my lesson).  

But it didn't end there.  Normally a fitting room is a place of refuge. A place where you can try on your clothing without being hassled (except for the occasional "how's everything going in there?").  Not here.  This lady "helped" me by barging in on me - into this fitting room that is in the middle of the store - and handing me new bras, making sure the ones I had on fit (yes, by feeling me up AGAIN), and even fastening my bras for me.  In the end we found something that fit, but when I asked for a different color, the saleslady told me that the men like the color I had in my hand better, that I'm too young to wear boring undergarments, and that she would not sell me the other bra.  So there you have it.

I don't think I will ever get used to living in this country.