By necessity, because we have gifts to ship overseas to family, and because when we get our tree this weekend, we will be among the first in Vienna to have one, we spend the early weeks of the Christmas season shopping, planning, wrapping and packing and the last 10 days or so decorating and mostly just enjoying this festive time of year.  This is pretty much the reverse of what I used to do, when I would decorate as soon as it was considered decent to do so and then spend the latter part of December feeling frantic about gifts and shopping, usually right up until the last minute.

It’s great.  There are 11 days until Christmas Eve, and we’ve wrapped and packed all of our gifts for the States (the last box will ship tomorrow — a week later than I’d planned).  I wrapped B’s teachers’ gifts today and I’ll start on wrapping the boys’ tomorrow.  Jo & I did some brainstorming and menu planning for the holiday week today (things here are complicated by the fact that shuts down at noon on the 24th and doesn’t open again until the 27th — plus, of course, everything is closed on the 23rd because it’s a Sunday) and we’ll start shopping for our holiday meals tomorrow.

There are still cookies to be baked, a tree to be trimmed and stockings to be hung, but most of the pressure is already off.  I like doing things this way (although I do wish we already had our tree).  Dan and Benjamin have one more week of work and school, but I already feel like our holiday is truly beginning.

It’s taken a long while for me to gain some traction with speaking and understanding German.  I took a short, introductory course our first summer here, and for a few months now, I’ve been taking private German tutoring, once a week.  It’s helping me a lot — I haven’t learned a lot of new stuff yet, but even just having a reason and a motivation to practice, as well as a reliable and safe place to ask my random (and sometimes strange) questions, gives me a lot of confidence in what I do know.

My tutor is patient, funny and very kind, and, as a bonus, we often chat a lot about quirks of Austrian culture.  It helps me a lot to understand that some communications are challenging because of cultural differences more than because of flaws in my German speaking abilities.

Another thing that I’m learning is where my strengths and weaknesses are:  reading comprehension — great;  understanding spoken German — not bad;  writing — not awful;  sentence construction — pretty poor (and I can only speak in present tense);  verb conjugation — abysmal (except for “to be” which I do pretty well unless I’m using the informal ‘you” form, the ‘we’ form or the third person plural form . . . which is half of the possibilities, so I’ll stick with “abysmal”).  Apparently, my particular skill sets (and missing pieces thereof) aren’t typical — I keep surprising her with what I’m good at and what I’m not.  (For example, given a set of conjugated verbs, I can come up with the correct subject instantaneously, but it takes me FOREVER to conjugate verbs when given the subject — go figure.)

But that’s ok — I’m making progress.  Living in another language is exhausting.  I have to use it all the time, even though I’m bad at it.  I have to use it at B’s school.  I have to use it in the shops.  I have to use it on the street.  I have to use it when the plumber comes to my house.  My few, glorious, non-German interactions (outside of my family) are wonderful and precious to me, and I am so appreciative of the friends and strangers who find pity and patience to spare for an exhausted (and so often confused) expat.  It’s so nice to just have a simple (i.e., English) conversation sometimes.  And I am so, so grateful for the opportunity to truly express myself, which is not yet possible for me in German.

Last year, I shared my search for peppermint candy canes.  They just don’t have them here.  Candy canes are quite common — I’ve found entire Christmas market stalls devoted to nothing else — but I’m still looking for a peppermint candy cane among all the strawberry, apple and mango flavored ones that abound here in Vienna.

This year, though, I’m armed and I’m lucky.  After being caught without proper candy canes last year (they don’t even have Peppermint Mochas at Starbucks!) and feeling surprisingly sad about it, I was saved by my in-laws and a friend’s parents, who all supplied me with a stock of peppermint candy canes that we haven’t quite used up.  (I also stocked up on peppermint hot chocolate mix while we were home in the U.S. this summer.)

It’s a good thing, because I’m still looking.  They really don’t have them here.  But, while I’m kind of disappointed about not having them here, it’s nice to feel the love from back at home every time I pop a peppermint candy cane into a mug of hot chocolate.

I’d heard that, out in the countryside, the whole Krampus tradition is a lot more . . . enthusiastically celebrated than it is here in Vienna.  I’d seen videos of major gatherings of Krampus (Krampi?  Krampuses?  Die Krampus?) out in Graz and other parts of Austria.  But I’d never actually seen a Krampus in Vienna, other than on a candy wrapper.

I was lucky enough, today, to have a friend tell me that there was going to be a Krampus gathering in her neighborhood (out in Oberdobling, on the northwest side of Vienna) tonight.  She didn’t know what to expect (and neither did I) but since Jo was happy to watch the boys, Dan & I decided to check it out.

We found our way out there, met up with our friends, and witnessed a gathering of Krampus.  It was pretty cool.  It consisted of a bunch of guys (who all appeared to be young adults) dressed up in elaborate and quite intimidating-looking Krampus outfits.  (There was also a St. Nicholas in attendance.)  Most of the Krampus costumes had massive goat-like horns on top, making some of the guys (horns included) about 8 feet tall.  (Seriously, it was kind of amazing that no one ended up getting impaled.)  Other than Krampuses, there were a lot of other Austrians in attendance to watch (and get looked over and scared by) the Krampuses.  There was also a fire-breather, live music, some Christmas lights and a lot of Punsch consumed.

After the hour or so of wandering, looming Krampuses, things broke up and the Krampuses took off their masks, grabbed beers, and hung out, chatting with the crowd and posing for pictures.  (At this point, with the huge, horned masks under their arms or slung over their shoulders, it was even more impressive that no one got stuck with one.)  After a while, and after getting a picture of our own, we got chilly and headed home, but I’m really glad we got to see some “real” Krampuses here in Austria.  If I ever get the chance, I think it would be fantastic to go out to Linz or Graz and see a really big Krampuslauf outside of Vienna.

There is a woman who stands at the end of our block almost every day and sells newspapers.  It’s something that homeless, or very poor, or otherwise unemployed people do in Vienna.  (I don’t fully understand how it works, but it’s legitimate employment for people who otherwise probably wouldn’t have any income at all.)  She’s young, and when we first moved here, she was very pregnant.  Shortly after we arrived, she was gone for a few months, and then reappeared, no longer pregnant.  At first, I was afraid to ask.  I don’t know her, and I don’t know her situation (except that it probably isn’t very stable).  Maybe she put the baby up for adoption?  Maybe something tragic had happened in her pregnancy?  I was sure she didn’t want to be asked about it by a non-German speaking complete stranger.  So, I continued to smile and say hello, but I never asked.  A few months later, she started holding a picture of a little boy while she stood there, and I stopped to ask her if it was her son.  It was, and she was very happy to chat (as much as we could, with my horrible German) about him.

She still comes and stands on the corner, except for some days, when a young (although slightly older) man stands on the same corner and holds the same picture.  I assume he’s the father, but I’ve never asked.

In going through our outgrown baby clothes, I once had the realization that her son would be just about 1 year younger than Liam, and that maybe she could use some of the clothes.  But, I never got up the courage to ask.  I’m just not sure if that kind of thing is done here.  I’m always kind of awkward, but here, in this society that is alien to me, I truly have no idea of how a suggestion would be received.  Maybe it’s offensive, or patronizing.  Maybe I’ve misunderstood all along and this woman isn’t disadvantaged or homeless at all.  Who knows?  I miss a lot.  Would she understand that I was trying to be kind, regardless of how weird of an offer it might be?

Yesterday, I was brave.  I finally decided that I’d rather feel embarrassed for trying, failing and making a fool of myself than for never even making the offer.  I had left to pick up Benjamin a few minutes early, and on the way, I stopped to ask her.  I didn’t know how to say any of it, and it turns out that my troubles with communicating her before weren’t because my German is so poor — she doesn’t appear to speak any more German than I do (but no English).  With a little German (the rough equivalent of, “I have. You want?”) and lots of gestures, we managed.  I explained that I have a winter coat that I thought might fit her son, and some socks and other things.  She understood, nodded enthusiastically and smiled.  And then she explained that what they really need is pants.  Pants would be better.

After collecting B and brining him home, I put everything we had in the right size into a bag.  It wasn’t much — a winter coat, some shirts, some socks, a few pairs of jeans and pants.  It all seemed really insufficient.  So, I went into Liam’s drawers and pulled out a few more pairs of pants that are the size he’s wearing now — we have more than we need.  I packed them all up and brought them to her.  She smiled, nodded, and thanked me — it was the only really clear communication we had the entire time.

I still feel awkward.  I still kind of suspect that this isn’t the way things are typically done here.  But, that’s ok.  I feel awkward most of the time.  This still feels good.

I blame my grandmother.  Growing up, I don’t think I can remember a single time I was ever in her house that I wasn’t offered something from her ever-present tin of Danish butter cookies.  And my mom makes excellent shortbread.  So, I was pretty well doomed, because the Austrians also love butter cookies.  Mainly at Christmastime.  Well, look at that!  It’s Christmastime!

And, I dare say, I like the Austrian cookies even better than the Danish ones.  (But not better than my mom’s shortbread.  Just for the record.)

There are bakeries all over Vienna.  They take baking very seriously here.  Baking and coffee.  (I knew I belonged here.)  I walk past 3 different places selling butter cookies on the way to drop B at school, and past the same 3 on the way back.  I’ve held off for a few weeks, since the deliciously tempting treats made their first appearance this year.  But yesterday, we were out of coffee at home, so I stopped on my way back from dropping B at school for a melange . . .and 16 Euro worth of butter cookies.

I was just going to buy a few.  Just enough for a treat for after lunch.  Just enough to show Jo how great Austrian Christmas butter cookies are.  But then, there was this box.  It was a package of a variety of types of butter cookies — it included all of my favorites and some I’d *never seen before*.  I didn’t have a chance.

They weren’t all for me.  They were to bring home and SHARE.  I bought them, and managed to wait a few hours for indoctrinating Jo into the joy of Austrian butter cookies.  We had a few (just to try them).  We had some after lunch.  I had a few in the afternoon.  We had some after dinner — the kids actually got some, too (as did Dan).  I had some with a cup of tea before bed.

They lasted 24 hours.

I’m so glad they only come out at Christmas.