“Drive on the left!”

Whenever we rent a car, it’s never so easy (or inexpensive) as JUST renting the car.  We need two car seats and a GPS as well.  (We own car seats for both boys, but dragging them around the world is impractical, and the navigation provided by our phones is only free in Austria.)  It adds up to a lot of expense — the cost of the GPS and car seats is usually as much as (or more than) renting the car itself.

It’s entirely worth it.  Although I do miss our wonderful car seats from home, they’re heavy and bulky and I’d worry about them being cargo when we fly.  And the GPS is essential — not so much to get us where we’re going (we could look up directions from anywhere we could get wi-fi) but because it enables to deviate from our planned route, always knowing we’ll find our way back.  Sometimes we do that out of need (stopping for a potty break or looking for lunch) but, even more often, we do it by choice.  We can take the “scenic route”, explore an interesting looking turn off of the main road, or just drive, always knowing we’ll be able to get back to wherever we were headed.  We do it all the time — it’s one of our favorite things to do when we travel (that’s how a 2.5 hour drive became an 8 hour one in Scotland, and how a 2 hour drive became an 8.5 hour one in Ireland).  It’s how we have some of our favorite experiences and get to see some amazing places.  So we feel the GPS is always worth it (though with what we’ve spent renting them, we probably should have just bought one at this point).

We had fun with ours on our most recent trip to the UK and Ireland, setting the English language accent as appropriate to where we were (English, Scottish or Irish).  And we also laughed each time we turned it on, because EVERY TIME we started it up, it gave off an alarm sound and reminded us to “Drive on the left!” (including the exclamation point).  That still didn’t stop me from ALSO reminding Dan myself that he should drive on the left, not only each time we started out, but also almost every time he made a turn from one road to the next.  Dan did an amazing job, though — he drove on the correct side the entire time!  (And I’m incredibly grateful to have gotten to experience far-flung parts of England, Ireland and Scotland without having to drive at all.  I would have been a stressed out mess on those tiny roads AND driving on the “wrong” side.)  It is amazing how ingrained the habit of driving on the right is — I kept wanting to get in the car on the wrong side, and crossing the street, I had to constantly remind myself to look both ways VERY thoroughly, because if I didn’t think about it, I would forget which direction the traffic was likely to be coming from.

It’s funny, though, because I don’t recall our GPS shouting and dinging at us to “Drive on the left!” the last time we were in the UK — and even though the two GPSes we rented during this trip were different models, they BOTH had the warning.  (I wonder when they added that feature — and I wonder if it makes UK drivers crazy, or if there’s an option somewhere to turn it off?)

(As a note, we had Tom Tom GPS units on both pieces of our trip, and in both cases we had good experiences.  Again.)

Party prep

So, this is it — 24 hours from now, my house will have been full of 2-6 year olds and accompanying parents for several hours, and, probably, they’ll all already be headed home.  How many will be here is still a mystery, although we have gotten 2 more “yes” RSVPs and one more “no” since last week.  I checked with some Austrian friends (a grand total of 2), and they report that I shouldn’t put too much stock in the RSVPs I have or have not gotten — people who have not responded will probably show up, and it’s equally possible that people who have said they’ll be here won’t come.  So, we’ll see.  We could end up with 5 kids here, or we could end up with 15.  I’ll know tomorrow.  (Note for the next party I throw in Austria — inviting fewer people makes things much simpler.)

Right now, coming down to the wire, I feel like I should be more stressed than I am.  An unknown number of people are coming to my house tomorrow.  Many of them may be people I’ve never met before (parents of B’s classmates) and I may not be able to communicate with all of them.  We’re crossing a lot of cultures, and I truly have no idea what kinds of expectations people might have of a 5 year old’s birthday party in Austria.  (I’ve only been to one birthday party since I’ve been here.)

036But I’m actually feeling ok.  It will be whatever it will be, and if I break every Austrian etiquette rule, well, I’ll continue to play the “not from around here” card.  Actually, recognizing how out of my element I am is incredibly liberating.  It’s another one of those moments when I accept the probable imperfection of the situation, which allows me to relax and focus on what’s really important.  Do we have balloons?  Check.  Cake?  Not yet, but Austria is the land of cake, so even if something goes awry with our ordered-and-to-be-dropped-off-tomorrow cake, we’ll be able to figure something out.  Will there be kids here?  I think so.  Do we have enough snacks and drinks?  Close enough, I think.  Will Benjamin have a good time?  Most likely, and that’s what really matters.

We’re all really working together to make this party happen, which is making it fun just even to prepare.  We spent much of last weekend getting the house ready — cleaning, mostly — so that we would have less to do today and tomorrow and might have enough energy and good cheer left to actually enjoy the party.  The boys have been amazing at helping me get ready.  (Really.)  We’ve been working together on the decorations and the games we’re going to play:  Angry Bird basketball (regular basketball, but using Angry Bird stuffed animals as the ball), Angry Bird bowling (rolling/throwing stuffed Angry Birds at paper “bowling pins” with pictures of pigs on them) and a wall of repurposed cardboard boxes, at which we’re going to throw stuffed Angry Birds, thus knocking down the blocks.  The boys have done most of the “artwork” for the game supplies, and Benjamin came up with the idea we’re using to make the paper bowling pins keep their cylindrical shape.  They have also been entirely in charge of deciding which toys go in the “off-limits” room — the door will stay closed and no one will be able to play with anything inside — and for actually putting them away in there.  It’s been pretty amazing.

We’ve still got a fair bit to do this evening and tomorrow morning, but it’s not overwhelming.  I’m pretty sure we’ll be ready in time for our first guest’s arrival (which, considering this is Austria, will probably be very prompt).  In some ways, it really does feel like a lot of pressure — hosting a party for so many people, including so many that I don’t know, and having truly no idea what people will be expecting or how it’s going to go.  But, really, we can do what we want.  We’re the foreigners here, so whatever we do, we get to make it truly ours.  We can let go of anyone else’s expectations, and do it the way we want.  My greatest hope is that we allow ourselves to enjoy the day.  (I hope that Benjamin has a great time, of course, but I can’t guarantee that, either — it’s hard to know what expectations might still lurk in the mind of an almost 5 year old.)  We’ll see!

Ambient music

Vienna has a different sound than what I was used to in the States.  At home, the single most pervasive ambient sound around my home was traffic — I lived very close to the DC beltway, and I could hear it at all hours from my house (unless my air conditioner was running, in which case I couldn’t hear anything but that).  I considered it part of suburban living, and accepted it as fact.  When I wanted to hear “nature”, or at least the absence of “city”, I went out to see my horses and experience the outdoors.

When I wasn’t hearing car sounds, I was hearing other sounds that I took for granted — loud music from someone else’s windows (typically hip hop or pop, or something else that had come out in the past few months), sirens, helicopters, planes, dogs barking, sometimes people arguing.  There was always a lot of sound, everywhere, all the time, and I just understood it to be part of life around a lot of people.

Vienna is more different than I could have imagined.  Here, we live not in the suburbs, but smack in the middle of the largest city in Austria.  Instead of living in a condo with about 30 units, I live in a building with more than twice that, and the building is also home to several businesses, including a few restaurants.  I almost never hear sounds from my neighbors — either through the walls or out the (often open) windows.  Austrians are quieter than Americans, certainly, and we keep up with the stereotype — we’re probably the noisiest people in the entire building.  With two little kids, a dog, and quiet Austrian neighbors, it would be hard to imagine it any other way.  (Part of the difference is also the building construction, I imagine — when the windows are closed, you really don’t hear anything from your neighbors at all.)

And here, instead of being confined to my car, I’m out walking around the city, nearly every day, fully aware of the sounds around me.  The vehicular sounds are much less pervasive.  The street I live on is busy but narrow — although there is a lot of traffic, especially at certain parts of the day, most of the streets right around where I live are one way and one lane.  A busy main road is just over a block from here (closer than the Beltway was to my home in Virginia — but not by much) but I almost never hear the sounds from it, either.  Instead, when I’m out on the street, I hear the sounds of hooves on cobblestones, and the ding of bicycle bells warning pedestrians to look both ways before they cross the one way streets.

And the music that I hear is very different.  People keep their windows open here a lot more than at home, so it’s much more common to hear music coming from inside someone’s home that in was in the US.  Music coming from a car driving down the street is uncommon, though.  And in both cases, whether it comes from a house or from a car, it’s overwhelmingly likely to be something classical or something from an opera.  I can only remember hearing more recent music — anything rom the last century — emanating from a car on one or two occasions EVER since I”ve been here.  And, when the classical music comes through the open window of a home here, it’s very often being played live by one of the residents.  I’ve heard flute and harp played, but most often it’s the piano.  One of our neighbors plays (very well) and we’re often treated to their practice.

A large part of the seemingly clichéd auditory experience I have here is where I live — we live in the relatively fancy downtown 1st District, where, I guess, the people are pretty fancy, too.  (I imagine my experience would be different if I lived a few blocks closer to the University, for example.)  The experience of stopping on the way home from the market to hear my neighbor practice his piano is every bit as charming as it sounds, and being serenaded by opera blasting through a car’s windows while I sit in an outdoor cafe makes me smile every time it happens (and yes, it’s happened more than once).  These sounds are just another piece of the many “pinch me I live in Europe” moments that I get to enjoy all the time.  I love it.

RSVP

In less than 2 weeks, B turns 5.  Aside from the mingled feelings of shock and pride I feel about this, I’m also experiencing the frenetic anticipation of putting together B’s birthday party, which will be next Saturday.  He had a pretty big party when he turned 1, but he was too little to have much opinion in the matter, and I had a lot of help from my mom.  For his second birthday, we had a party, too — he was also too little to vote much, and I also had help.  His third birthday was party-less (aside from Dan, Liam & I), and last year we were at the beach with family, so we had a party, but pressure was minimal and help was plentiful.

This year is different.  This year B really wanted to have a party, with his friends, and he has lots of ideas about what it should entail.  He has very strong opinions, but he isn’t able to articulate some of them until I suggest something counter to his idea and he gets very frustrated with me for not (psychically) understanding.

He wanted to invite his whole class at school (20 kids) in addition to his other friends.  I vetoed, and said he could choose 8 from school (which evolved into 11 once we accounted for their siblings).  Add to this the complication of having at least 5 different first languages represented amongst the invitees, and I think we’ll have our hands full as it is.

This is where crossing cultures becomes an adventure.  The invitations said RSVP, and I provided both my phone number and email (in case there was anyone who didn’t want to attempt English but didn’t trust my German), but although B’s party is next weekend, I currently have no idea how many kids will be there.  Of the 17 invitations we gave out for his birthday party, we only heard back from 5 of the kids.  We were able to contact 3 more to find out their plans, but for the other 9, kids from B’s school for whom we don’t have contact info, we have no idea if they’re coming, and, unless they decide to call, we won’t.

I’ve always heard that the rule of thumb is that most people who don’t RSVP won’t come — people who know they can be there let you know, people who can’t, or who aren’t sure, don’t feel as motivated about getting back in touch.  But the thing is, in a different culture, in a different country, I can’t really make that assumption.  Maybe RSVP doesn’t mean anything in German (I mean, it’s an abbreviation for a French phrase, so it doesn’t technically mean anything in English either).  Maybe, culturally, a “regrets only” mentality is typical, so I ought to take their silence as a yes.  Maybe we caught people just as they were leaving for summer holidays, and everyone is gone (in a country where 2-4 week summer vacations are common, a lot of people are gone for a lot of the summer).  Maybe everyone is just really busy and I’ll get a bunch of responses this coming week.  Or maybe they never got the invitations at all (they were left in the kids’ cubbies at school).  I just don’t know, but I can’t make too many assumptions.

So, at this point, we know we’ll have somewhere between 6 and 15 kids here for the party, plus parents.  That’s a bit of a wide range for planning purposes (somewhere between 12 and 35 people, I’m guessing, because of course, for the non-RSVPers, we have no clue how many adults might come, too).

It’ll be fine.  In fact, it’ll be great.  It’s 3 hours out of everyone’s life, and the only person whose opinion really counts is Benjamin, and he certainly isn’t going to care if we run out of paper cups or if there aren’t enough places for everyone to sit.  He’s going to have (I hope) a great time no matter what.  He’s excited to celebrate with his friends, and that he shall do.  I’m excited, too.

Surprise party

Benjamin has a summer birthday, which is a mixed blessing. I have a July birthday, too, and I know how it is. While it’s fantastic to never, ever have to go to school on your birthday, you also never get to experience the fun of having your birthday celebrated at school. And although it’s great that pool parties are always an option, and sometimes you get to have your birthday on vacation, everyone ELSE is always on vacation, too, so often many of your closest friends can’t be there to celebrate with you.

Last year, as B enjoyed celebrating all of the other kids’ birthdays throughout the year at school, I worried whether he’d get to celebrate his, and how he’d feel if he didn’t. Luckily, they make a point to celebrate the summer birthdays all together before (most of) the kids leave for their summer holidays, and he was so excited to have his school birthday party. (And, since we were home in the States for his actual birthday last year, we took the opportunity to celebrate a bit at home that day, as well.) This year, we assumed they’d do the same thing, and we asked, last month, if they knew when they’d be celebrating the summer birthdays. They assured us that they planned to, but they weren’t yet sure of the date. Not a problem, but as we’ve been approaching the unofficial end of the year (because it’s daycare, as well as preschool, the year doesn’t really end, per se, but many of the kids are absent for most or all of July and August) I’d been starting to worry that maybe it had gotten forgotten in the crazy busy times of the end of the year, but I was also hesitant to pester his teachers, because I knew they had a lot going on.

Yesterday, I decided I needed to ask. If it had been forgotten, I needed to make sure that they had time to plan something (if they wanted to). As it turned out, Dan took B to school, but he was running late, so he didn’t get a chance to ask in the morning. The mystery was solved when Dan picked him up, though, because the teachers had told him he’d be having his party . . . today! And although that came as a bit of a surprise, it was definitely a pleasant one.

20130612-160958.jpgSo B went to sleep last night excited about his birthday, and woke up (bright and early!) even more excited. And it sounds like he had a wonderful day. They had pizza, cake and ice cream, everyone sang for him, he got to wear a crown, and he even got a gift (a towel decorated as a snail). All of his best friends were there, and they all got to play in the garden, too. I think it was a great day, and he is a very, very happy boy (although he was insisting, this afternoon, that he is now 5, and I’m insisting, just emphatically, that he really isn’t quite yet).

Because we only found out about this yesterday, we weren’t able to do much in terms of a celebration here at home (which is really ok, because we’re planning an actual birthday party with his friends in July) but we did pick up some cookies and ice cream as a special treat. I am so very glad that he got to enjoy a wonderful birthday celebration at school, and I am beyond grateful to his teachers for making a fuss over each and every child (even the summer birthdays!). It’s great to see my special guy have his special day.

Fire safety

Moving abroad, you expect certain differences.  You know that there’s going to be a language barrier, and that cultural norms will surprise you.  You know that attitudes towards work, family, religion, food, clothing, and many, many other things will be different, and that your deeply held assumptions (including some you’re not aware you have) will be challenged and changed.

One of the things that has been consistently surprising and assumption-shaking for us is the difference in the way Americans and Austrians handle issues of safety.  When we first visited the zoo here, we were shocked to see how easy it would be for someone to climb into an animal enclosure (and, in some cases, for the animals to get out).  We still marvel at the kinds of equipment and play surfaces we find at playgrounds here (rocks, water pumps, dirt, wood, metal and just plain, solid ground).  There’s a very strong expectation that people will take personal responsibility for their safety and that of their kids.  You don’t want to get trampled by a zebra?  Don’t climb the fence.  You don’t want your kid to break his arm?  It’s up to you, as the parent, to judge what are reasonable risks and challenges for your own child in each situation.

Recently, a couple of friends of ours, who are relatively new to Vienna, reminded me of something that was absolutely shocking to me when we first arrived (and that I’m equally shocked I haven’t yet mentioned here) — homes here don’t have smoke detectors (and aren’t required to have them).  It took us a few weeks of being here to notice, because smoke detectors are so ubiquitous, and so expected, in the US that we didn’t even check to see if our first two apartments here had them.  We had moved into this, our permanent home in Vienna, and had been here a few days when I realized we didn’t have any — not a single one — in the entire house.  (There also aren’t any in the hallways or common areas of our building.  Also, no fire escapes.)  Having smoke detectors in the home is just expected in the US.  I think people would probably consider us negligent parents if we *didn’t* have them in the States.  (For anyone who doesn’t know, not only can you purchase smoke detectors in the US, you can typically also have your local fire department come out and install them for free.)  We ran right out to get some when we realized (although they weren’t trivial to find).

But not here.  Most homes *don’t* have them, and they aren’t legally required in homes or businesses.

And, speaking of assumptions — you know that outrageously obnoxious beeping that signals the end of battery life in smoke detectors?  It does not happen in our smoke detectors here.  One of ours ran out of batteries without any kind of sign or signal.  I noticed the little light had stopped flashing, and we realized the batteries were dead (and may have been for some time).  It’s amazing the things I’ve always taken for granted.

Schwimmschule

As far as I know, I was born knowing how to swim.  I have vague memories of my dad teaching me to float on my back in my grandmother’s pool, but the basic principles of swimming came early enough that I don’t remember ever not knowing how to swim.

039I always knew my kids would be the same.  For the sake of safety, as well as fun, I wanted them to learn early.  (Especially because it’s one of those things where not knowing creates such fear around water that at some point it becomes incredibly difficult to be in the water long enough to learn how.  I knew someone in college who didn’t know how to swim, and he was so deathly afraid of the water that I’d imagine he never learned — his fear was the result of not knowing how to swim, not the cause of it.  Because he didn’t know how, he was terrified to go in or even near water.  How was he ever going to learn?  And if he ever did, I’m sure just getting in the pool the first time was profoundly traumatic.)

040Unfortunately, when we left Virginia, and our DC-suburb condo, we also lost regular access to a swimming pool.  We’ve been swimming a handful of times since we’ve moved to Austria (many of them when we were visiting the States last summer), but not enough for the kids to really learn how, and I feel the fear of them not knowing how creeping in on me.  I want to take care of that before it sets in for the kids, too, so the boys took their first swimming lesson on Saturday.

As always, finding instruction in something in a foreign country is a challenge, especially because we wanted to find lessons in English if possible.  Dan found a place, and we took a scenic strassenbahn ride out to a lovely part of Döbling (an outer district of Vienna) that we’d never visited before.  And, as always, there were cultural lessons to go with the swimming ones.

First, even though I live in Europe, and have for two years, and even though I consider myself open-minded, I am always shocked by the lack of modesty and body consciousness here.  When we got to the pool and went to change into our swimsuits there was only one changing room.  Co-ed.  They had little changing closets with doors for privacy, but I’d say just over half of the people used them.  The others changed, with varying levels of discretion, right by their lockers.  While it was a surprise for my prudish American sensibilities, it also meant that I certainly had no qualms about changing the boys’ clothes out in the open, which made things easy.

Out by the pool, the same lack of body consciousness was evident — in a really positive way.  People of all sizes and ages and levels of fitness and physical attractiveness exhibited the same level of comfort with being in or around the pool.  Some wore tiny swimsuits, some were more covered up (though none more than me in my skirted suit — and I was far from being the oldest or heaviest person there).  I didn’t see a t-shirt or a cover-up anywhere, either.  And it just truly felt like no one cared.  No one was being objectified — neither being snickered at or leered at.  There wasn’t any staring, of any kind.  I got the sense that people were there to swim (duh) not to evaluate each other.  Everywhere I looked, I saw people just being people.  Not hiding or being embarrassed, but just sitting or walking or getting in the pool.  A few of the fit, pretty young women were preening a bit (and only a VERY little bit), but there just wasn’t the air of critique and shaming that I am so used to feeling poolside in the States.  Again, I felt silly for being so modest in my own swimsuit choice (which, interestingly, feels almost inappropriately skin-baring back home).  It’s an incredibly liberating feeling.  After my years of indoctrination into the American cultural idea that most people are unfit to wear a swimsuit, this feels like being dropped off on an alien planet (but WOW does it feel better).

043The swim lesson itself was great.  Our teacher, who thankfully spoke excellent English and didn’t seem put out about having to use it, did a great job of combining practice for B on basic skills like paddling and holding his breath with some introduction to other strokes and kicking styles.  Liam got a little overwhelmed and opted to mostly play, but he got more comfortable by the end, too.  B did the backstroke and even jumped into the pool on his own (which surprised me — especially when he repeated it several times) and, perhaps most importantly, did a little “swimming” by himself (with a ring) and climbed OUT of the pool on his own several times.  We go back again in 2 weeks, but I feel like we’re on our way to setting a good foundation for a really important skill.  And I’m always grateful with the eye-opening, preconception-breaking cultural education I get just from living here.  I’m learning to see a whole other possible reality.

I love Vienna in the springtime

In the US, today is Memorial Day, the unofficial start of summer, day of barbecues and pool openings.  At home, by late May, we would have had the air conditioning running for a few weeks, and high temperatures in the 80s would be considered good fortune, since 90 is just as common.  For all practical purposes, late May in Maryland and Virginia is summertime.

But here, it isn’t.  May is still really and truly springtime in Vienna, and I love it.  The trees are still budding and flowering, the first roses have yet to come out, and I still can’t put the jackets and sweaters away.  (Although, the weather in Vienna being as unpredictable as it is, I will leave out a sweater for each of us all summer, and we will most likely use them.)  All through May, we’ve had varied weather — wet days and dry ones, warm days and chilly ones, wind some days, thunderstorms on others.  Our warmest days this month were in the mid-70s, and we’ve had nights that have gotten as cool as 40.  Today, it is raining on and off, with a forecast high of 57 (although it’s nearly 3:00 now and only 48 outside, so I somewhat doubt we’ll get any warmer).  It’s jacket weather . . . on Memorial Day.

I absolutely love that we get to experience a real spring here.  Summer will come — we’ll have 90+ degree days, some even with humidity — but I’m in no hurry.  I’m enjoying rewriting May in my mind as springtime.

Religion and Happy Meals

Although they aren’t on every street corner, we have fast food restaurants here in Austria, too.  McDonald’s is the most common, but there are a few Burger Kings and Subways, too (although I’ve never gone into one) plus at least one, NordSee, that you’ve probably never even heard of (they serve fish, and often some strange ketchup-y sauces sometimes used in excess).  The basic premise at McDonald’s here is the pretty much the same as at home: mostly burgers, chicken sandwiches and french fries, with ice cream sundaes for dessert (although they also have other things that we really ought to have back in the States, like a full coffee bar and waffle fries).

20130524-232408.jpgWe tend to do a quick, convenient dinner about once a week, whether that means ordering pizza, picking up street food or carry out from a local restaurant, or, on occasion, getting McDonald’s.  Last week we had a McDonald’s night, and, as usual, the boys chose to get Happy Meals . . . which are pretty much exactly like what you’d get back at home, except that sometimes, the toy is something fantastically cool, like a pedometer or a sheep-shaped cereal bowl.  Last week, the “toy” was actually a book.  The boys got their choice of 6 different, full size, full color books — B chose a book that came with a ton of stickers and Liam chose a hardback book that came with 3-D glasses . . . and which started off with three pages worth of an explanation of evolution.

Aside from the books being pretty darn cool as a freebie with a Happy Meal, I was pleasantly surprised to find evolution in Liam’s book, mostly because here, in one of the most Catholic countries in the world, in the city that was the seat of the Holy Roman Empire for over 300 years, it’s not really considered controversial to give out books that treat evolution as scientific fact to little kids.

20130524-232435.jpgBut in the US, I think it would be.  I suspect that in the States, if McDonald’s were giving out books stating the facts of evolution along with Happy Meals, there would be outrage and boycotts.  Social media would explode with exclamations about intolerance, persecution and freedom of religion.

And here, no one seems to think it’s an issue.  (Although, to be fair, my German isn’t that good, so it’s also possible that it is and I missed it . . . I’m mostly kidding.)  I really think that no one here thinks it’s a big deal . . . at least not on a cultural level.  It’s not that religion isn’t respected here.  It is, tremendously.  The entire nation and culture is overwhelming influenced by Christianity, and more specifically, Catholicism.  The country’s calendar of holidays is dominated by the church, and while people aren’t overtly and dogmatically oppressive about their religious views, the tenets of Catholicism are pervasive here.  (Although the Austrians that I know claim that Austria, and Vienna in particular, is “not very religious”, I disagree.  I see it everywhere.  For instance, there’s no “Happy Holidays” here, it’s always “Merry Christmas”, and the state-run schools are unembarrassed about their inclusion of the celebration of Catholic holidays and discussion of saints within the school year, although they don’t actually teach religion in any sense.  It’s simply that these ideas are so woven into the fabric of life here that they don’t see that as “religion” . . . which is exactly my point — Catholicism and Christianity are so commonly practiced and believed that they are completely taken for granted and the acceptance of them is assumed.)

The freedom of people to believe and practice other religions is taken seriously here, as well.  The legacy that Austria carried out of the second World War is one that people here want to leave in the past, and there is a strong feeling of sensitivity towards those who aren’t Catholic or Christian, too.  Culturally, especially among young people, Austria wants to be inclusive.  Religious tolerance is important here.

20130524-232503.jpgBut, even with all of that, it seems to be a complete non-issue that McDonald’s is giving away books that teach evolution as a matter of fact.  As far as I can tell, no one cares.  I think the difference is that people here don’t equate “respecting” their religion with expecting everyone else to believe the same thing as they do.  They don’t view it at anyone else’s duty to not disagree with their religious beliefs.  Respect of your right to believe something doesn’t necessarily require that I agree with you.

Also, with the caveat that my sample size is pretty small (in that I don’t know very many Austrians well enough to have had these kinds of discussions) I feel like that people here, no matter their religious beliefs, don’t deny the truth of science.  The very religious have either consciously chosen to accept or ignore the contradictions, or they’ve come up with some internal way of reconciling it . . . but regardless, they don’t expect everyone else to avoid contradicting their core beliefs.  Here, disagreement doesn’t seem to equal persecution, disagreement doesn’t equal disrespect, and respect doesn’t require agreement.  And that’s not something I’m really used to seeing.

I’m not trying to critique or admonish anyone in the US, or anywhere else.  But I am grateful to see a culture that doesn’t have a knee-jerk reaction to something that might disagree with a personal belief.  On an individual level, the religious people I know are intelligent, accepting, and understand that not everyone is going to agree on something as deeply personal as religion.  But on a cultural level, I think there would be a vociferous reaction to a book in a Happy Meal that talked about evolution.

These are generalizations, of course, and I haven’t been here very long yet, so there are probably things that I’m missing.  But I do get the sense that there has been a more successful reconciliation between religion and science here.  At least, no one is boycotting McDonald’s today.  The profoundly religious culture that exists here seems to live peacefully alongside an acceptance of science.  From my American perspective, it’s pretty stunning.

Survived

So, we made it.  I got through 44 hours-ish, just me & the kids.  (Which doesn’t sound as impressive now as it felt when I was doing it.)  My worries were pretty much for nothing.  We had a really nice time and the boys were great — helpful, cooperative and patient with the inherent slowness that comes from having one parent do the work of two.  We ate a lot of pizza and leftover spaghetti, read stories in my bed (which is something I think we ought to do more often) and B missed a day of school.  Success!

Of course, I didn’t “do” everything.  It was only two days, so I let a lot of things slide.  Bailey went to the dog-sitter so I wouldn’t have to take him out 4 times per day (no yard here) or worry about what to do if he needed to go out after the boys were sleeping.  Because it was only two days, I didn’t have to do a big grocery shopping trip, run any errands, keep any appointments, or even take out the trash or recycling.  Really, I had it pretty easy . . . but I’m still grateful that it went well.

In fact, I think the two days before the trip were more stressful than the actual time that Dan was away — that’s when I was worrying about what COULD go wrong.  As it turns out, I had only one truly legitimate worry while Dan was away — making sure to not get hurt.

It occurred to me before the trip, and came to mind again and again while Dan was gone — I had to make absolutely sure I took good care of myself, since I was the only one home with the kids.  Playing outside on the terrace, when the floor got very slippery, I took great care not to slip.  Hurrying to take a shower as quickly as possible, I had to remind myself not to be TOO quick, because I didn’t want to risk falling.  Preparing our meals, I was extra careful and cautious to not burn or cut myself.  Any of those things, on a normal day, would be bad, but while Dan was gone, it would have been awful.  At the least, it could have meant having to drag both kids to the emergency room to tend to an injury of mine, at worst it could have meant being incapacitated, leaving the kids without care or supervision and/or having to take care of me in some way.  Not to be overly dramatic, but any of that really could have been horrible.

Needless to say, none of that happened.  But that was the big, consistent worry in my mind, and the only real stress I had to handle.  And, in that way, Dan being out of town while we’re here, in Austria, so far away from so many family and friends, is vastly different than him being out of town when we were at home in the States.  At home, I probably would have had my mom staying with me, or at least stopping by regularly.  As it was, she (and Dan) checked in on me regularly by text and email . . . but what would anyone have *done* if I had gone a long time without responding?  At home, my family and friends were only a phone call and a short drive away.  At home, even if I’d been stuck and posted a desperate “help!” message on Facebook, someone I know would have been able to come to my rescue.  Here, I really am much more on my own, which did give the two days without Dan more of a “wilderness survival show” feel than I expected.

Regardless, we made it.  In fact, we had fun.  I really enjoyed putting aside my to-do list and just focusing on the boys.  I proved to be perfectly capable of taking care of everything (everything important, at least) for almost 48 hours on my own.  (But I think next time I may ask some neighbors to check in on us or at least put some of my Vienna friends on speed dial before Dan goes.  I think it would be more fun if it *didn’t* feel like an episode of a survival show.)