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.