Language traffic jam spoken here

When we first moved here, we found ourselves paralyzed when it came to language — the prospect of trying to communicate at all when we knew so little prevented us from even trying most of the time.  Shortly after arriving here, I had an experience of being so traumatized when it came to communication that I even had trouble speaking English to another native speaker.  One of Dan’s friends described the experience as “a language traffic jam in your head”.  That’s exactly what it’s like — the brain processes dealing with language become so overloaded that even simple communication becomes difficult, slow and stressful.

Luckily, that first phase was temporary — we’re doing a lot better now.  We have some German we’re pretty comfortable using (“excuse me”, “I’m sorry”, words used in restaurants and grocery stores and various other words and phrases we’ve picked up) and we’re getting less embarrassed about resorting to English when we need to.  Dan will use Spanish when both English and German fail, and I’ll throw in some of the French I know.  Usually, between all those options, something will work out, and when it doesn’t, improvised sign language will.

Tonight, we tried a new restaurant near our house — an Italian place.  We had an Italian waiter who spoke less German than we do, and no English.  That threw us, a bit, at first.  We’ve gotten to the point of being really comfortable reading menus and ordering in German (even though many places offer English menus, we won’t always request one) and I think this is the first time we’ve failed with both German and English.  After a couple of failed attempts, Dan ended up using Spanish, and although we understood very little of what the waiter said, he apparently understood enough Spanish to make things work.

041Over the course of the meal, we chatted a bit (really) and learned that he’s been here as long as we have and that he, also, has two little kids (although his kids are a little older than ours, and he’s a little younger than we are).

At one point, watching this scene where our Italian waiter, Austrian hostess, Dan, myself and the kids were all interacting, I realized how far we’ve come in terms of communication, and very little of it is because we’re getting better at German.  We’re being more confident and less self-conscious, and ever more aware of the benefit that we can get just from putting ourselves out there a little.  This is quite an adventure, and it’s changing us.

Out of rhythm

Having house guests can be stressful.  It isn’t anyone’s fault — it’s just that adding on to an already busy “to do” list, while disrupting the rhythm and schedule of life, can cause chaos.  We’ve just had 10 days of house guests.  Our schedule was a disaster, the boundaries and rules with the kids were bent all over the place, we all shared a bathroom, we gave up our bedroom and slept in the living room, we stayed up too late every night.  I’m really glad they came to see us, but we are all exhausted now.

In addition to the logistics, it’s hard to live with anyone for 10 days.  I don’t think 10 consecutive days have ever passed between Dan & I where one of us hasn’t gotten a little frustrated, irritable or snippy with the other.  In a marriage, you learn which battles to fight and which to leave, and you develop a give and take of how to handle these routine frustrations.  With guests, it’s harder.  There is, of course, still plenty of reason to get frustrated, irritable or snippy with each other, but you try really, really, really hard not to.  It’s rude, it seems petty (especially when you’re only spending a few days with each other), the damage done is disproportionally severe when compared to the impact of whatever little irritation caused the situation in the first place and, of course, you’re trying to be on your best behavior.  (I have a tendency to be irritable, especially when I’m stressed out — which is often — so this kind of “letting go” of little things is something I’ve been working on in myself for years.)

Our guests left this afternoon, after 10 days of, truly, a very nice visit.  But now, we’re all exhausted, and we’re out of sync with the way we usually do things.  Since they left (about 8 hours ago) Dan & I have snapped at each other at least twice, Benjamin has been in “time out” twice (up until today he had been in time out only twice since we’ve been in Austria), Dan has slammed a door, I’ve slapped my hand on the kitchen counter in frustration (ouch), Benjamin is currently crying in his room because he doesn’t want to go to sleep, Liam took three tries to get down to bed and he was even tricky to feed at dinner.  Basically, we’re a mess.  We’re trying to get back to normal, but we’re tired and we’re all at our limits, so we take it out on each other, a little bit, which I wish I could prevent.

Although this all sounds awful, I actually think we’re handling this level of stress better than we ever have before.  Our moments of frustration have been fleeting.  Benjamin sat quietly in his time outs and went right back to being his happy, playful (and mischievous!) self.  Liam is now sleeping peacefully . . . and I think Benjamin may be (finally) too.  We’re still tired.  I have a mountain of laundry to do (including the sheets for our bed, which are currently wet in the drier . . . sigh) and tomorrow, life goes back to normal.

Heurigen

I’ve wanted to go to a Heurigen since before we got here, and today we went.  They are Viennese wine taverns, which were, historically, run by vineyards to sell their new wine.  Now, they seem to have evolved as restaurants that sell “microbrew” wines, locally cultivated (many even within Vienna itself).  We first learned about it while watching the Rick Steves episode on Vienna (which we watched several times as our “homework” before moving here) and it seemed like it would be a very Viennese experience, so I’ve wanted to go ever since.

111We went this evening.  It was fun — we had some of the “new” wine (from last fall) which they say is an acquired taste, but for those who like sweet, white wine and who know absolutely nothing about what they’re drinking, it was pretty good.  The food was simple and served buffet style (which was fun, because you get to try a little of everything).  We ate outside in the wine garden, which was lovely (if a little hot today) — there was live music and pretty landscaping (including a fountain, which Benjamin loved).  It started raining just as we were packing up to leave, and the rain followed us all the way home.

I do think it’s a fairly unique experience to Vienna, and I’m really glad we went.  I would like to go again.  The one we went to was effectively chosen at random (we had a recommendation from a friend, but we ended up finding a different one by accident) and we really didn’t know what we were doing.  Having been, I would choose a different location, order different things to eat and have a different expectation of the experience.  It was less about the food and drink and more about experiencing Vienna — which is what we’re here for, anyway.

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Date night

After being here 3 months, Dan & I had our first opportunity to go out, just the two of us, last night.  We put the kids in bed, left Dan’s parents in charge and went out on our own.

We went to a cafe near our place, sat, and had a snack.  We were only out for an hour, but it was really nice to have a break . . . together.

Life is intense right now, and there has been very little time for anything beyond the bare essentials.  Everyone gets fed and cleaned every day — everything else is a bonus.  We’re just starting to get organized and relaxed enough for me to take a little (much needed) time for myself every week — time as a couple just hasn’t been in the cards (exacerbated by the fact that we don’t yet have child care here).

As the leader of this parade of craziness, it’s easy to live a lot of my life in a space of organizer/facilitator/dictator with Dan as chief-co-executor of my very well laid plans.  That’s great, and we definitely have developed some impressive skills in terms of making things work.  But it is good, every so often, to take off my “CEO of the Calle family” hat and just be together.  It’s important, at least, that we check in and make sure we still like each other.

So far, so good.

Awkward

I am not cool.  I am not smooth, slick, suave or together.  I wish that I was:  not like the “cool kids” in high school . . . more like James Bond-ette with a diaper bag.  I want to smile at the right times, catch people’s meaning without them having to come right out and say it, always have what I need in my bag, be dressed for the occasion and do it all with a smile and without breaking a sweat.  Instead, I’m more likely to accidentally offend someone by laughing at the wrong moment, misinterpret directions and walk through an alarmed fire door and be pooped on by a bird (possibly all in the same afternoon).  I don’t know why this is, but it is.

Living abroad has really put me in touch with this part of myself.  Only the coolest of the cool could pull this off and look slick at the same time.  For me, it just throws my awkwardness into greater focus.  The language barrier, the cultural differences, the little idiosyncrasies of the expectations of day to day life — I’m ill equipped to be able to keep up.  We all pick up on words and cues and expectations based on experience to help us understand when we’re welcome, liked, understood . . . or not.  Everything is different here — I don’t pick up on anything, and even when I understand the words, I’m missing a lot of the meaning.

I took B to the doctor today (a new doctor) to check on a scratch that I thought was getting infected (it wasn’t).  The appointment went well, but I sat in the wrong place, tried to leave before she was done, tried to leave without paying and was literally chased out the door by the receptionist who was bidding me farewell (I made eye contact but didn’t say anything on the way out, and I get the impression that was NOT the right thing to do).  This is not uncharacteristic of my afternoons in Vienna.  And, all of the people I was dealing with today actually spoke English (it’s worse when they don’t).

Being cool is just not in the cards for me.  For some people, perhaps it’s easy, but for me to achieve such heights of slickness, I’d either have to devote most of my life to it or be so tightly wound that I’d end up institutionalized in the very near future.  There’s no way for me to get there without letting go of things that are more important.

I’m really getting to be ok with it.  (It’s a process.)  I have a lot going for me, but coolness isn’t on the list.  There truly are more important things, and I refuse to sacrifice any of them for the sake of being slick.  It’s not cool, but it’s who I am.

Pachelbel’s Canon

A friend of mine once told me that I have music in my heart.  He might be right:  music affects me pretty profoundly.  When I hear music that I connect with at all, I find it difficult to concentrate on other things — I think I’m one of the only people I know who has a hard time reading and listening to music at the same time.  I know I’m not alone in this, but even a piece of a song that means something to me can take me back to a moment or a feeling in an instant.

We went to see Schonbrunn Palace today with my in-laws.  It was my fourth time to the palace, and every time I’ve been there I manage to see something new and have another phenomenal experience.  (Today was no different.)  We arrived at the palace and I enjoyed seeing them goggle at it (they’ve travelled throughout Europe and I think they might have thought we were overselling how grand Schonbrunn is).

Then, walking towards Neptune’s fountain, I heard the faintest strains of the violin — so soft I actually thought I was imagining it at first.  But as we continued, we saw a string trio, played by three young women.  They were playing Pachelbel’s Canon.  I love that piece of music — it’s the song I walked down the aisle to at my wedding, and I listen to it all the time.  In that moment, in that grand, fairytale place, it was a moment of magic.  Standing there, with my children, on a perfectly beautiful day, listening to this amazing music — it was just one of those moments that feels so perfectly right that you almost don’t want to breathe for fear of spoiling it.

I did breathe, and the moment lasted anyway.  We listened to the song, Benjamin clapped, the music changed, Liam dozed.  A few minutes later, Benjamin asked to go see the fountain, and I thought the spell would be broken, but it wasn’t:  we went and sat on the edge of the fountain and looked at the ducks and he told me about the shapes he saw in the clouds.

I am so grateful to have had this afternoon, exactly as it was.  These moments, when I find them, make me feel like being here is the right choice.

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Impervious

It had been about a week since I’d had an hour “off”, so after I got the kids down for their naps today, and after Dan got home (he only worked a half day today to be able to spend extra time with his parents while they’re visiting) I grabbed my book and headed to Starbucks to have lunch all by myself.  It’s a good thing for me to do — even just having a little time off from the moment-to-moment demands of being a mom does wonders for my resiliency.  I got myself a sandwich and an iced tea, grabbed a seat at the very last outdoor table, and sat down to read.

A few minutes after I sat down, the threatening clouds gave way to a little drizzle and then a decent rain.  I scooted my table over a bit to be better covered by the umbrella and continued on with my lunch and my book.  Looking around a few minutes later, I realized that the packed outdoor seating area had been deserted by all but me and two others.  After a few minutes, the wet and the cold started to bother me a little, and I decided that I really needed a warm cup of coffee.  So, I grabbed my wallet, but arranged my book and bag to make it very obvious my seat was still taken — I wanted hot coffee, but not at the expense of my seat.

I went inside to wait in line to order my coffee, looked out the steamy window into the rain at the deserted patio and laughed at myself.  In the steady rain, on a chilly afternoon, I decided I needed to save my seat at the outdoor cafe.  (In that moment, I failed to realize that just because I enjoyed my arrangement so much did not mean that anyone else would want to be in it.  I managed to get my coffee and get back outside without losing my seat, strangely enough.)

057Later this afternoon, we all went to the Belvedere Palace to do some sightseeing.  It’s one of the places I went with Dan last year when I came to visit — I was amazed by the scale and beauty of the grounds, and that was in February.  It was even more magnificent today — the flowers are in bloom, the trees are full and green and all of the fountains were on.  It was Benjamin’s first time there, and he loved it.  He loves fountains and flowers, and the palace grounds offered a ton of freedom for running and playing.  He ran around in circles, ran up a ramp and down the stairs and challenged all of us to races.  (I haven’t run so much in years.)

070At the end of his exploring, we came upon some fresh puddles from this morning’s rain.  He wanted to splash, and he did, with enthusiasm.  I explained that his shoes and socks might get wet, and that we still had to go to dinner afterwards.  He started with small splashes, but worked his way up until the water was flying and he was getting soaked.  At one point, I opened my mouth to tell him I thought he had saturated himself thoroughly enough . . . and then I realized:  I spent my lunch sitting outside in the rain.  Who am I to tell him to stop splashing because he’s getting too wet?  So, I let him splash.  (And I give him credit:  he didn’t complain once about being wet.)

Missing home, but not too much

Cookouts, fireworks, swimming pools, family and friends — all over the US, and most importantly, in a couple of specific places in Maryland and Virginia, that is what’s happening today. I’m really missing home — I’m really wishing I was there. July 4th is nothing other than the first Monday of July here, of course, and it’s a weird, lonely feeling — like everyone forgetting your birthday. Intellectually, of course, I completely understand, but emotionally, I really feel like I’m missing out. I also know that these are formative years in terms of my kids understanding and appreciating holidays, and I worry that they’re missing out, too.

We had a nice day today, but it was one of those days where we start trying to leave the house around 8:30 in the morning and actually get out of the house at 4:30 in the afternoon. Once out, though, we revisited St. Stephen’s (Benjamin did another, “I wish for all my family to be happy” prayers, and really, how can that not make my day?) and went to the Vienna Opera House.

But the best part is happening right now. I’m listening to Benjamin ask questions and respond to things from his bedtime story, and he is absolutely astonishing to me. He’s already told us, “The sun is not a planet” and “I love dark rain clouds — they’re full of lots and lots of rain that goes drop, drop, drop”. I can’t think of a better thing to help mitigate my feeling of being far from home than being near my children.

Happy birthday, America: I miss you.

First prayer

It was cold here today — not cool, cold.  Our high was 14 Celcius, it varied between rainy and drizzly all day, and the wind went from a strong breeze to “Oh dear, what was that?!?”  If you had been plopped down in Vienna today, you would absolutely have believed it was April if that’s what you’d been told.  (I was thrilled, actually — I think it’s beautiful weather, and a real treat to have in July, especially after the heat we’ve had lately . . . but I think it may have been a bit too much for our fair-weather-dwelling houseguests.)

Today was, however, our first planned day of sightseeing with our visitors.  They arrived Friday, we did our “chores” yesterday, and today our plan was to see two of the most essential sights of Vienna:  St. Stephen’s and the Hofburg.  Well, it rained and it was cold.  We went anyway.

We went to St. Stephen’s.  We had planned to perhaps do a tour or climb one of the towers, but Dan’s parents weren’t really interesed in the tour and the weather didn’t make the climb in the tower sound too inviting, so we were just going to explore the cathedral on our own.  Of course, when we got there, the cathedreal wasn’t available to visit, but we still were able to wander around in the entry area and get to experience the beautiful church a bit.

It is amazing inside.  It’s huge, and beautiful, full of statues and stained glass.  It smells like incense and it’s just the right amount of dark and mysterious.  There are basins of holy water in the entrance and there are prayer candles in the nooks and alcoves — Benjamin was fascinated (as he was the first time we went, on Easter).  He really wanted to see the candles, so I took him to look.  He asked about them and I did my best to explain.  He asked if a prayer was like making a wish, and I told him that it was — that it was making a wish for good things to happen for people that you love, and that you tell it to God so that he can help you make it happen.  He wanted to make a wish, so we purchased a candle and lit it.  He wished for, “All the people that I love to be happy”.  (I am amazed by him — by his kindness and his understanding.)

And then he asked me if he could blow the candle out, and I had to explain the difference between a prayer candle and a birthday candle.  He seemed ok with it.

On the way home we walked past the Hofburg, through the Volksgarten, past the Parliament and the Rathaus and back to home, where we stayed for the rest of our rainy and cold afternoon.  To me, it was a lovely Sunday, but I’m not sure we did a very good job as hosts and tour guides.  That’s ok — we have 7 more days.

No more suitcases

It’s official:  no more suitcases.  We spent a few hours working around the house this morning (thanks, in part, to Dan’s parents who watched B while Liam slept and we cleaned and organized) and got the suitcases unpacked.  We still have a lot to do, in terms of getting things organized, unpacked and cleaned up, but being out of suitcases is a major milestone (besides, there’s something kind of lame about having guests who are living out of their suitcases while the hosts are still doing the same).

It’s another reminder of something I realize periodically:  we live here.  Our perspective is vastly different than it would be if we were just visiting . . . and it’s also different than it would be if we were living here permanently (with no end date looming).  We’re getting the feel of being here as tourists, a little, with Dan’s parents visting — our heads are spinning with the effort of trying to cram into just 10 days everything we love about Vienna (and trying to maintain a little of “normal” life at the same time).  It reminds us that we have been spoiled by time — we’ve had the benefit of what feels like infinite opportunity to explore, discover and enjoy Vienna.  But, at the same time, our 2 year deadline hangs over us:  it’s a reminder to make the most of our experience here, without creating too much pressure to fit everything in to too short a time.

It’s good to continue to get these reminders:  I want to seize this experience and get everything out of it that I can.  We are so very fortunate to not just be here, but to live here.