It’s commonplace in Austria to have complete strangers help with small things. I’ve had help getting the stroller on and off buses, into and out of shops, on an off the strassenbahns, down flights of stairs and once, very memorably, a woman missed her train to help me shepherd Benjamin, Liam in the stroller and Benjamin’s bike up an escalator when the elevator was broken. I’m also pleasantly surprised at how much help and kindness I’m shown when I need help somewhere and I have to resort to English (because the issue is well beyond even attempting in German) — like much of the help I got with my dress search and then, this week, when I had to explain to a teller at the bank that my ATM card had stopped functioning and I needed a new one. People here are generally helpful and patient (especially when I’m out with the kids and I’m at least attempting to communicate in German). My days are much more pleasant for the kind gestures, and I’m incredibly grateful.
Tag Archives: friends
Heurigen, again
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We’ve tried out a heurigen (a Viennese wine tavern) before. We’ve been intrigued by the idea since we first saw the concept recommended on the Rick Steves episode about Vienna — in theory, they’re small restaurants (often buffet style) attached to micro-vineyards located within the city of Vienna. They are only allowed to sell the wine that is produced by the vineyard associated with the heurigen (again, in theory — I’ve read that this is usually, but not always, the case, although that is part of the historical context for them). The originally developed as a way for the vintners to showcase their wines, the young wines in particular (which is a Viennese thing), without paying tax on the sales. Generally, the wines are good, and the food is ok, but the setting can be beautiful — a cozy outdoor courtyard with live music, a set of picnic benches with a great view, a warm dining room with candles and a lot of ambiance. (There’s a lot of variation, of course, but this is the general idea.) They’re very popular with both tourists and locals — last time we went to a more touristy one, this time we wanted to try one that catered to locals.
We met our friend, Krishana, for lunch today at Heuriger Wieninger, a heurigen I had read good things about, in the 21st district. It was a long Strassenbahn ride for us (nearly an hour) but we found success. It definitely catered more to locals than tourists — no one spoke English to us the entire time we were there (I don’t doubt that they could have, but it’s a sign of how far outside of the tourist track we were that they didn’t snap into English, even when we struggled a little). The food was quite good. The wine was amazing (I had an Orange Cinnamon Prosecco). Benjamin and Liam both enjoyed the food (no wine for them) and running around in the pretty courtyard.
I love the idea of the heurigen, and so far, we’ve enjoyed all of our visits. I really had fun being a bit further off of the beaten path this time. Every time I explore a piece of Vienna that I wouldn’t have seen if I’d just been here for vacation, I feel more at home here, more connected to this place. My next project — a heurigen with a great view. I’ve heard there are some which are really remarkable, so that’ll be next.
Why school isn’t just a big party
Yesterday, we went to a birthday party. The birthday boy is turning three, and Benjamin was in heaven at this party. The majority of the party was in the backyard — Benjamin rode bikes, a scooter and a train, he played in the sandbox, with toy cars and trucks, he ate pizza, cake and cookies — all on plates with Lightning McQueen on them. There were about half a dozen kids there of roughly the same age, plus a complement of little brothers, all Liam’s age or younger. He had an awesome time. From about 5 minutes after we got there, he played on his own, or with the other kids, almost entirely without our help (except for a couple of times when we were asked to extricate a ball from the hedge, or a toy from a shelf). The boys all played together and shared very well with little intervention on the part of any of the parents. We checked in with him, from time to time, and had to convince him to leave the toys for a few minutes in order to scarf down some dinner. He asked for my help to ride the scooter (which he’d never ridden before) but, although we kept a close eye on him, he spent large spans of time playing on his own.
On the way home, I was pleased with how well he had played, and how much he had enjoyed himself, but I was a little perplexed: why was it so fun and easy for him to play with these boys (who were mostly strangers to him) yet so traumatic to go to school? Isn’t it pretty much the same? So, I asked him. I thanked him for playing so well and being so polite at the party, and asked him if he had a good time. He said, enthusiastically, that he had. So, I asked, “Isn’t that pretty much what school is like?” And he looked at me, and asked (completely sincerely) “Did you leave the party, Mommy?”
He was actually asking, not making a point. I believe that he was having so much fun, that he thought he might actually have missed it, and maybe I had left. I assured him that I had been there the entire time.
But now I get it. From my perspective, as an adult, things at school are pretty much like a party (except no Lightning McQueen plates): there’s inside play time, outside play time, singing time and snack time — what’s not to love? To my little, sweet, three year old boy, the two things have very little in common — for one, Mommy is there, and a good time is had by all, for the other, I’m not, and that’s devastating. It doesn’t matter that he doesn’t actually interact with me very much — it doesn’t matter that he doesn’t need me. My presence makes the difference between him having fun and not, him feeling secure and not. All the kids and fun games and toys in the world don’t make up for my absence.
Of course, that makes perfect sense, and this isn’t the first time I’m realizing this. But, I forget. I truly, honestly, forget. I get wrapped up in how nice the place is, how kind the teachers are, how sweet the other kids seem to be, and I fail to understand why he’s so upset about going to school. The truth is, it doesn’t matter where he is, if I leave, it’s a problem. There’s a part of me that’s thrilled that he feels that way (the alternative, although easier to deal with from a practical perspective, would hurt a little). But, I want my little boy to enjoy going to school, and to enjoy himself without my constant presence. I know that the upheaval of moving to a foreign continent isn’t helping, and neither is the fact that my kids have only been away from Dan and I a few short times since we’ve arrived here (they used to do it all the time, but they are out of practice).
I don’t know how the next few weeks will unfold, in terms of school, but I’d love to figure out a way for him to have half the fun at school as he did at this party. I’m inspired by how much fun he had playing with the other boys yesterday, and knowing how much of that interaction he will get at school. But I know that being away from me will be hard for him, and it remains to be seen if he’s really ready (and if I am).
I live in my house
And today was a very good day
We had some friends of ours (a co-worker of Dan’s, his wife and their two boys, aged 8 and almost 1) over to our place for the first time yesterday. Shortly after they arrived, Paula looked at me and said, “I’m so relieved to see that it looks like you live in your house”, by which, she meant, that my house looks like it always does: it looks like people who have two children, a dog, and not a lot of time live here. I sincerely do my best to keep my house in reasonable shape, which mostly means keeping up with the mountains of laundry our family produces and cleaning up a ton of dog hair every day. Benjamin pitches in by helping with “clean up time” in the evening whenever the level of toy carnage starts to look like Santa’s sleigh had a tragic accident in our living room. But, for sure, my house looks lived in.I used to apologize, “Oh, don’t mind the mess!”, “We just moved in”, “Things have been busy, it’s gotten away from us”. But, I made a decision, recently, not to do that, unless any of it is actually true. My house always looks this way. This is, really, how we live. I’m totally ok with it. It isn’t because I don’t know how to make it cleaner, and it isn’t because I’m so overwhelmed that although I’d like to have it look different, I just can’t keep up. It’s because this is how it looks when you put in exactly the amount of effort that I have allocated to housekeeping. I could make it look better, but I elect to do different things with my time and energy. Given infinite money, I suppose I’d hire someone to make it look tidier (but it’s not the first place I’d put my money).
So, when they came, I didn’t apologize, I just welcomed them in. I fought the urge to make excuses, until Paula mentioned that she feels more comfortable coming to a house that looks like ours (and hers apparently looks much the same) because she knows the kids can play without worrying too much about “making a mess” and they really feel like they can make themselves at home. There is a famous Marianne Williamson quote that includes, ” . . . as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.” Who knew that it was true not just of “letting our light shine”, but also of leaving our Legos on the floor and the lunch dishes on the counter?
I remember going through the same kind of thing when Benjamin was first born. Things were so hard, I was so tired, frustrated, even angry sometimes. But what I was feeling just didn’t match the face that people put on when they talk about bringing their baby home from the hospital — it’s so easy to feel like there’s something wrong with you. Then a good, kind, generous, wonderful, loving and generally happy friend of mine told me what she experienced when she brought her daughter home from the hospital . . . and it was exactly the same as my experience, full of stress, ambivalence and feelings of inadequacy. It was great to know I was like her, even if everyone else was floating on pink and blue clouds, sleeping when the baby slept and finding time to write thank you notes and start their baby books.
I think this kind of thing happens too often. We work so hard to make things look the way they “should” that we don’t notice that very few people actually live in that “should” space — we all just visit it when we’re having guests.
I may actually be Supermom
Oh, I am tired. What a day. It was a day full of very nice things, but I am worn out, and I have given of myself to a fault . . . which is not new, but the grace with which I did it definitely is.
The first part of my day was normal: feed kids, change diapers, try to make naps happen, play games, clean up, help make more messes, overfill the washing machine, clean the soapy water off the floor, keep the dog from eating B’s snack. Normal Thursday.
Then I took the boys to the park with a friend who has two kids (one a few years older than B, one Liam’s age). Oh my. I’ve taken B and Liam to the park together before, on my own, but the addition of other children that they know added an element of chaos that I was not expecting. Liam is also big enough now to require being entertained in his own right (I can’t just stick him in the stroller the whole time). It went just fine, but it really wore me out. B was trying to keep up with his older friend, and they got in to all kinds of shenanigans together (I’m not sure B’s shoes will be dry for tomorrow) and he learned important lessons (i.e, if you let go of the chains on the big-kid swings, gravity takes over in short order). And Liam had a lot of fun trying to keep up with B (thank goodness he can’t walk yet).
Then we all went to dinner (my friend and her husband, their two kids, plus all of us Calles), and halfway through Dan gets a call from his uncle. Who is here. To see us. (This is the first we’re hearing about it.) We knew he was in Austria, but not having been able to coordinate a visit with him before he left, we figured we wouldn’t see him at all. Surprise! So, Dan goes out of the restaurant, leaving me with the boys, to figure out a way to rendezvous with his uncle, who does not have a working phone and who is planning to drive back into Vienna to see us immediately. “Back” because he drove into Vienna earlier today to see us, showed up at our door, and when no one was home (see park story, above) decided to walk around Vienna in the hopes that he might run into us. When that didn’t work, he drove back OUT of Vienna, borrowed a phone from someone and called Dan.
Dan was in and out of the restaurant for the rest of the meal, looking for his uncle, who is planning to meet us at the restaurant. His uncle shows up just as we’re leaving, and we say goodbye to our friends and go back to our place. We show him around and visit for a few minutes, but then I have to go put both kids in the bath (together, which I haven’t done before) because Dan has a Skype appointment.
So, we make plans to meet up with his uncle tomorrow. And then I put the boys in the bath, get them both clean, get them both out, get them both dressed, get puked on by Liam, get him clean and dressed again, get Benjamin a bottle, feed Liam, put Liam down, get Liam back up and then get him back to sleep. (At which point, Dan joined me to brush Benjamin’s teeth, but then Benjamin asked that I read him his story before bed, and he’s so sweet, and we got so little one-on-one time today that I said yes.)
I got a little grumpy with Benjamin at one point in the bath when he was splashing Liam and wouldn’t listen to me and stop, but otherwise, I did all of this and didn’t even freak out. I’m not even mad or frustrated with Dan. (Really.) I think I may qualify for sainthood. I haven’t tried walking on water recently, but maybe I should give it a shot. (Or maybe I should wait and see how tomorrow goes, first.)
One is silver and the other’s gold
I have some really amazing friends. Today, I was reminded in several ways.
First, I got to get together with a new friend of mine here in Vienna. Although we’ve only gotten together a few times, I’m really enjoying her company, and I’m amazed at how quickly and thoroughly we’re connecting. She came over and helped me grab lunch and take the kids to the park. Benjamin loves her — he got so excited when he heard she was coming over. Before I left to come to Vienna, a friend of mine who is originally from South America told me that the friendships I make here will form more quickly, be more intense and probably longer lasting than is “normal” for friendships made at home, and I’m definitely finding that to be true.
But then I was also reminded of how great my friends at home are. Cricket, one of my horses, has injured her eye. My friend, Catherine, who is watching my horses at home let me know, and called the vet. Her prognosis is good, but the course of treatment involves applying eye ointment twice a day — directly to her eyeball. Even if I had never had horses, and had never had to do such an application of medicine, I would know how difficult that will be because I can imagine the challenge it would be to do that with my 30 lb preschooler, let alone my 800 lb pony. It is vital to Cricket’s recovery that the medicine is applied well, and Catherine isn’t sure she can do it. So, where does that leave me? Well, 4000 miles and an ocean away, I have to find someone to help me take care of my (mostly) sweet pony, every day, for as long as two months.
It took me one email and about 8 minutes. The very first person I asked, the person I most wanted to help (because I know what a great job she’ll do) said yes immediately. I cried when I read her email, full of empathy for Cricket and excitement that she’s coming to stay.
I have the most amazing friends. Today was a good reminder, but I’ve been reminded all along as we’ve been here. The emails and the messages all mean so much. I’ve smiled, laughed and reminisced here, all by myself, because of the wonderful things you’ve said. Thank you, all of you, for keeping me company — because that’s what you’re doing, even though I’m so far away.
Play ball!
Today, we did something we never do — we played softball. To be accurate, Dan played softball, and Liam, Benjamin and I watched. Some coworkers of Dan’s put a game together and, in the interest of being social and making new friends, we went.
I don’t know what it is about me, but absolutely anytime I attempt to be a spectator at anything, I end up getting drafted into some sort of duty role. I don’t know if I look responsible, or I just look like a sucker, but it never fails. I’ll end up collecting tickets, selling concessions, taking pictures, serving beverages or some sort of other useful task. Honestly, it doesn’t bother me that much: I’m more of a doer than a watcher, anyway, but I wish I understood why this happens to me, simply so I could turn it off when I prefer to sit back and relax.
Inevitably, within the first three batters of the first inning, I was asked to help with scoring. I can barely keep up with baseball when it’s on tv and being narrated for me — this was an impossible task, made more challenging by the fact that apparently softball rules are different than baseball rules, and we had team captains from Australia and (I think) Ireland, and team members from all over the world, so even amongst the players there was some discussion about the rules and scoring. Add to that the fact that I have a 2 year old and an infant to look after: I was hopeless. I managed to keep track of the runs, at least, and the batting order, but after about an inning and a half, I was relieved of my scoring duties.
Which really was a good thing, because I also ended up playing child wrangler for the day. Two of the other players had brought their preschoolers (both younger than Benjamin but older than Liam) and since they were both playing, and I was playing with Benjamin, I ended up playing with (and supervising the play of) the kids for part of the day. In this case, the responsibility fell to me because I can’t help myself. I’m not likely to let Benjamin run off and play with two kids younger than he is in a place I don’t know surrounded by people I don’t know, so, of course, I was with him the entire time. It makes that I would become the de facto referee of the children, since I was around. (I am also fighting, with myself, a sometimes losing battle against being a “helicopter 
parent”, which doesn’t help matters, either.) All in all, Benjamin had a really good time playing and making new friends, so it was energy well spent. Also, I got to know the other kids a little which was nice (especially because they’re likely to become regular playmates of Benjamin’s).
It was a good day. I got to meet some people and speak in English all afternoon. Benjamin made some new friends, got to throw the ball around with Dan for a bit, ran the bases, and got a medal at the end for being so well behaved. Liam was adored by all and was thoroughly photographed by several attendees. Dan turns out to be surprisingly good at softball (and I think his team won). It wasn’t quite the restful afternoon at the ball field I had envisioned. But, I have to admit, it may be, just a little, because I really like things better that way.
A day outside of Vienna
One of Dan’s future co-workers invited Benjamin, Liam, Dan, Bailey & I to lunch today with his family at his home outside of Vienna. We were really excited to get to see some of the area around Vienna, and to hang out with some Americans who had been through what we’re experiencing. When Scott arrived to pick us up, they had outfitted their car with carseats appropriate to our kids’ ages, so we packed Bailey into the back of the minivan, and we all trekked off to Korneuburg.
I
t was so reassuring and validating to talk to them and compare notes on our experiences. Ada, Scott’s wife, talked about looking at her “to do” list shortly after arriving here in Vienna and just starting to cry. She also talked about showing up at the first temporary apartment with two kids (the same ages, at the time, as Benjamin and Liam are now — AND she was 8 months pregnant with their third) and insisting vehemently that whatever happened, they were not staying in that place. On both 
points, I can really relate. In terms of my “to do” list, most days I’m just not looking at it, and when I do, the word that keeps coming to mind (and more than once out of my mouth) is “unreasonable”. As in, “This is an unreasonable amount to expect of any one person”. And although I haven’t had to insist on any last minute heroic changes in accommodations, I was well prepared to do that yesterday (was it just yesterday?) had this place not turned out to be suitable.
But to see them now, seven years on in their journey, it’s hard to believe that was ever true. They have a lovely home in the suburbs of Vienna, their kids are enrolled in school, and even their dog has a great yard to play in
. Ada mentioned that she recently found the list that had brought her to tears, and looking it over, realized she had survived accomplishing every last thing on that list. So, we will get through this — this too, shall pass.
We had lunch, and chatted about relocating and things to keep in mind. Ironically, they are moving to Northern Virginia in July, so we were able to offer our own advice and encouragement, as well. Their kids helped Benjamin through an Easter egg hunt they had set up for him. Then, we stayed for dinner. Our beautiful day turned into a lovely Austrian evening. Our kids played soccer — the dogs played, too. (Bailey makes an excellent goalie.) By the time we headed back home, well later than we had expected, we were all tired. But we had a great day. Their hospitality was so appreciated, and so was the encouragement.
