Rucksack und Tapisserieware (Backpacks and Tapestries)

Backpacking (or in my case, “duffel-bagging”) is many things: an adventure, an exercise in minimalism, a diet. Above all, though, I contend that backpacking is a religious experience. Or at least it was for me.

I must start out by qualifying my status as a “backpacker.” My three weeks of living out of a bag was merely a short glimpse into the world that is backpacking. True backpackers do it for months at a time. Relative to them, I am a novice, an inexperienced tee-ball player with a view of the major league.

That being said, however, my three weeks of backpacking taught me so many, many things. Like, if there is free food, eat it. And if you pay for a meal, then by all means, eat the entire thing. Spoons and forks are precious commodities, and if your utensil is plastic, take it with you; you never know when you might need it. If a bathroom is free, then use it—even if you don’t need to. (Trust me, something dies inside when you have to hand over 1.50 euro just to pee) And the list goes on and on and on and on … don’t stop believin’… ha ha

On a more serious note, though, backpacking teaches you a lot about yourself, and, if you are a Christian, a lot about God. I could share with you all I learned, but I need to work on homework (I know, you thought based on my previous blogs and such that I never do homework. Well, I do…. Once a week. Ha ha). So, to keep things short (Me? Be concise? Wow. Miracles do happen.), I will just share with you my most memorable lesson and the story that goes with it.

Lesson: There are no coincidences.

I know you have probably heard that expression before. Either you agreed with it, or you opposed it. I’ve heard it my entire life, too, and most of the time, I tacitly agree with it. Yeah, sure, God is working. Yeah, sure, He has His hand in my life and what happens. But is He really involved in the little details? The minute day-to-day goings-on that even I don’t really care about? Before backpacking, I would have said “yes,” but I don’t know if I would have fully believed it. But now, I can’t deny it; God isn’t in the coincidence business. Here’s how I know.
If you have been keeping up with my semester abroad, you might remember that Jodie (Canadian friend) and I visited Budapest toward the end of February. Though I loved the city and had a wonderful time there, the experience itself wasn’t especially noteworthy, and, as such, I didn’t even have a blog entry about it. While in Budapest, we stayed at a place called “The Backpackers Guesthouse;” while we were there, we met a group of backpackers—4 guys (2 from Canada. Jodie was happy) and 2 girls—who had been traveling together for a while. We hung out with them a little bit during our two nights’ stay, but we didn’t go to the club with them or spend any significant amount of time with them. And when we left to come back to Graz, we basically said, “have a nice life” and then went on our way, never expecting to see any of them ever again.

Fast forward two months. Jodie and I are in Galway checking into Barnacles hostel (see picture above), when some guy asks the person at the front desk where he can find an internet café nearby. I didn’t notice his face (I think I was trying to dig my money out of my wallet or something), but after he left Jodie said, “Oh my goodness, I know him. I don’t know how, but I know him. I think he was at our hostel in Budapest.” Weird. But highly unlikely. And I didn’t see him, so I couldn’t make a judgment call either way. Plus, we were staying at a good-sized hostel, so even if he was here, our odds of running into him in the next two days was pretty slim. So we went up to our room (an 8-bed mixed dorm), where we saw a large backpack with the tell-tale Canada maple leaf patches sewn onto it. Hmmm. Two of the guys in Budapest were best friends from Canada. But that would be too crazy… there’s no way….

Way.

Sure enough, when we got back from the pub that night, Canadian-and-Budapest guy named Tom was there, staying in the same hostel, in the same room, in Galway, Ireland, of all places. What are the odds? There are none. Crazy.

After we reintroduced ourselves and shared several minutes of mutual shock and elation (we seriously couldn’t get over how bizarre this was), we settled down with our other roommates and started to play a drinking game. The same thing had happened in Budapest, and yet again, I politely declined, saying that I preferred to watch.
After an hour or so, when the others decided they were going to head out to a club and were getting ready, Tom stopped and asked me, “You didn’t drink in Budapest either, did you?”

I replied that no, I didn’t. And that he had a very good memory. He asked me the usual follow-up question, “Do you ever drink?” Instead of giving my standard answer of simply, “I have a gluten allergy” or “I just prefer not to,” for some reason, I said, “No, not really. I’m a Christian, and I want to honor God with all my actions. And I think that’s much harder to do after drinking.”

To my surprise, the conversation didn’t stop there. He continued, telling me that he was a Christian too, or at least that he had been an altar boy as a kid, but now he didn’t believe any of it. He asked me if I was saving myself for marriage, and I said yes. And he wanted to know if I really believed all of it, and I said, yes, that my faith is the most important part of my life. I think he asked me a few other things, which I can’t remember now, but I do remember this. At the end of our conversation, he said, “I’ve never met anyone like you before.” Wow.
A few minutes later, they headed to the club. Jodie and I saw Tom again briefly the next day but didn’t talk to him again except to say good-bye (with, of course, a “maybe we’ll see you again” ha ha). And that was basically that.

Someone far wiser than I am has likened God’s work to a tapestry. Countless threads of various vibrant shades are woven together to create a masterpiece of unspeakable beauty and intricate detail. As individual threads, we only get to see our little section; our perpectives are so limited. And even though we may know that this incredible tapestry exists, it’s very easy to forget that we are a part of it or to doubt its existence altogether. Sometimes, though, God gives us a moment to see from His point of view; He gives us a glimpse of the big picture, of his magnum opus in the making. For me, the conversation with Tom in Galway was one of those moments. I don’t know whether anything will come of it or if I will ever run into Tom again, but I do know beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the great Artist is at work in Tom’s life, and that He made our threads cross paths again for a reason, though I may never know it. But this I believe with my whole heart:

There are no coincidences, only a masterpiece in the making.

Guinness und die Rothaarige: Die Gruene Insel (Guinness and Redheads: The Emerald Isle)

I know, I know; you thought I had dropped off the face of the earth, never to be heard from again. Mach dir keine mehr Sorgen! I am still alive and well and ready to blog again!

I feel like I begin every blog post with an apology for how long it’s been since the last time I updated. This post is no different; I am very sorry that it’s been more than a month since my last post. I especially want to apologize to my G-Little Stephanie Drymon begin_of_the_skype_highlighting     end_of_the_skype_highlighting, who has been reminding/chastising me for the last several weeks for my lack of updates. And so, G, this one is for you. :)

Yes, it’s been over a month since I have written, but I definitely have a valid excuse this time. I was on Easter break—and not the American Easter-break variety, with Good Friday or Easter Monday off (or maybe both, if you’re really, really lucky). No, this was the Austrian variety, which meant that our “long weekend” was 23 days long. Fantastic. Thank you, Austria. :) So what’s an American to do when she is in Europe and has no responsibilities for almost a month straight? Travel, of course! And that is exactly what I did.

On Friday March 26th, I left Graz and took a train to Vienna, where I took another train to Bratislava (the capitol of Slovakia), where I took my first-ever Ryanair flight to Dublin, Ireland.

I don’t know if I have ever told you this before, so let me confess it once and for all: I am kind of obsessed with Ireland, and I have been for as long as I can remember. Back during my tap-dancing days as a child, I tried to take traditional Irish dancing classes, only to learn that you had to have Irish ancestry to participate. I was crushed. I can’t think of a specific, concrete reason for my love for the Emerald Isle, but I have always felt this way. Thus, naturally, it has been my dream to visit Ireland, so the nine days I spent exploring the land of rainbows, Guinness, and leprechauns nothing short of a dream come true.

Dublin was awesome! I came to appreciate Dublin and Ireland’s history during a fascinating 3-hour walking tour; I attended a Palm Sunday church service at Christ Church Cathedral; I toured the Guinness Storehouse, where I “poured ( and enjoyed) the perfect pint” and received a certificate to prove it, and experienced the city’s nightlife in the Temple Bar district via a pub crawl. Dublin was a blast.
My Canadian friend Jodie met me in Dublin; on Monday, we headed to Galway, which is on the west coast of Ireland. A university town, Galway is known for its pubs and student culture. Unfortunately, it’s also known for its rain. It poured the entire time we were there, so we didn’t get to experience it fully. But that’s okay; we didn’t actually end up spending that much time in Galway anyway; instead, we went on two bus tours. Unlike that of many European countries, Ireland’s image isn’t associated with cities and history; instead, much of its fame is tied to its beautiful scenery. And let me tell you, they don’t call it “The Emerald Isle” for nothing; all that rain definitely pays off. As a tourist, the best way to experience this landscape is via bus tours, so Jodie and I went on two in Galway. The first one was to Connemara, the classic rolling green hills; it was so beautiful! Unbelievably so. The second tour was to the Cliffs of Moher and the Burren Region, which is a rockier coastal area. The Cliffs of Moher were insane! (I guess that’s why they are known as “the Cliffs of Insanity” in the movie The Princess Bride). But seriously, they were HUGE! I’ll attach some pictures, so you can sort of appreciate them. While many people went past the “do not pass” barrier to enjoy the full beauty and danger of the Cliffs, I, like the true Kansan I am, stayed safely behind the chest-high concrete wall. But even from my relatively safe position, I couldn’t help being in awe and fear of the sheer majesty and power of the Cliffs, especially when the wind picked up. At one point, the wind was so strong that I couldn’t stand still; the wind was pushing me, whether I wanted to move or not. Luckily, it didn’t start to snow until after we had taken refuge in the comfort of our bus.

After the Cliffs, Jodie and I had a little adventure… Initially, we were going to take a public transport bus from Galway to Doolin, our next stop on our tour-de-Ireland. Then we discovered that the Cliffs of Moher bus tour was scheduled to stop in Doolin along the way. The tour cost 10 euros; the bus without the tour cost 12. So of course we took the bus tour. We had brought our bags with us and had asked the driver, and he said it would be no problem. After getting on the bus at the Cliffs, we reminded him to drop us off in Doolin, which was on the way to the next photo opportunity. But, of course, just our luck, wouldn’t you know, he forgot to drop us off. We got to the next break—a miniature version of the Cliffs of Moher a little farther up the coast—when he realized his mistake.

He felt awful, but he didn't have time to take us back, so he told us it was only "an hour and a bit" to walk back to town. Apparently “a bit” is a standard Irish unit of measurement meaning “an hour and a half” because the walk was really 2.5 hours. But we didn’t know that, and we really didn’t have any choice, so, of course, we started walking…. And walking… and walking. We walked for about 25 minutes on this road in the middle of nowhere Ireland, with a car passing us every five minutes or so. We looked looking super homeless, carrying our bags and holding our thumbs out. Cars kept passing us. It was getting kind of late, going on 4:45 or so, and we didn’t seem to be getting any closer to our destination. I thought the Irish were supposed to be notoriously friendly, but they seemed to be falling way short of that stereotype. Our feet hurt, we were feeling kind of discouraged, and I started to pray…
Then finally, all of a sudden, a silver sedan slowed down and pulled over. Inside were a young Irish couple who owned a restaurant in the town next to Doolin. They took pity on us and drove us to the crossroads that would take us to Doolin. In 10 minutes of driving, we covered what would have taken us at least an hour and a half by foot. They dropped us off—after we thanked them profusely—and then pointed us the way to go. And so we started walking again….
Unfortunately, Doolin is a very tiny town, and its main road doesn’t get much traffic. We walked for about ten minutes without seeing any vehicles, until finally a large white delivery-esque van pulled up. Sketchy? Yes. Were we a little nervous? Yes. That is, until we saw the driver: a 20-something, red-headed, freckled, honest-to-goodness Irish dairy farmer with water-proof boots that went up to his knees. He stopped, asked us where we were going, and we told him. He got out, stuck our bags in the back—along with all the cow feed—and then drove us straight to the front door of our hostel. It was, in a word, precious. So sweet. And so very, very Irish. :) If you are going to hitchhike anywhere, Ireland is the place to do it; the Irish hospitality pulled through, and we couldn’t have been more grateful.

Doolin was absolutely adorable; I would estimate its population to be 500 people, if that. And they all hang out at the same three pubs, because the town only has three pubs. We went to O’Connors, which had been recommended by our dairy-farmer hero (aka my future husband. Ha ha); unfortunately, we didn’t see him there. :(
Just so you know, the stereotypes of Ireland are all true, as far as I could tell. The people are genuinely friendly (even to sketchy-looking hitchhikers), many of them have red hair, and they love to spend countless hours sitting in pubs, drinking Guinness (and Bulmers cider—my favorite!). In many areas, Gaelic is the official language; all signs are written in both Gaelic and English. And traditional Irish music is alive and well and as popular as ever. That was probably one of my very favorite parts of being in Ireland: sitting in pubs and enjoying traditional Irish impromptu jam sessions. It was so incredibly cool. I loved it. In Doolin, though, Jodie and I were in for a special treat. Normally, the music was only instrumental; a few guys would play together. But at O’Connors, a little boy whose family was sitting at the table next to ours, joined the men and began to sing the song “The Galway Girl.” The way he sang, the way everyone clapped along, the pure Irish beauty of the tune—it was so surreal and so beautiful. Everyone, including I, was transfixed by him; I couldn’t have taken my eyes off him if I had wanted to. Definitely one of the coolest experiences I have ever had, and I’ll never, ever forget it. Gosh, I’m getting goosebumps just thinking about it.

After Doolin, we moved onto Killarney, which is farther down the west coast. Our hostel was called “Paddy’s Palace”—a very liberal use of the word “palace”, but if you stayed one night, you got one night free. When you’re backpacking, you can’t get much better than that. ;) Our first day, we rented bikes and rode through Killarney National Park, which, of course, was beautiful. A definite highlight was Torque Waterfall; unfortunately, it started to hail just as we got there. Only in Ireland can you experience sunshine, rain, and hail within the same hour. Haha. But it was very cool, and after spending so many days sitting on buses, riding a bike was a definite treat. The next day, we did the Ring of Kerry bus tour, which took us through more breathtaking sites in the Irish countryside. On the Saturday night before Easter, I headed back to Dublin, where I would catch my flight to Pisa, Italy, the next day.

Dublin on Easter was phenomenal. While I was wandering around that morning looking for a church, I discovered that O’Connell Street, one of the main central streets of Dublin, was blocked off. Curious, I asked why and was told that there would be a parade and a ceremony. With nothing else to do (the church service wasn’t until the afternoon), I decided to stay and watch. I went through a security checkpoint and found a place to stand directly opposite the General Post Office. There, a woman handed me a program for the ceremony. Then I realized that I had accidentally stumbled upon something very important. I’m assuming that you, like me, don’t know much about Irish history, so I will fill you in. Basically, Ireland didn’t like being under British control, so in 1916, while England was preoccupied with World War I, some Irish patriots decided to take action. On Easter Sunday (or maybe they actually did it on Easter Monday; I can’t remember), they armed themselves and took over the General Post Office and tried to take Dublin Castle (which, incidentally, isn’t an actual castle. Go figure.) But the Irish aren’t very good at strategizing, and it turns out that a handful of civilians don’t really stand a chance against the professional British military. In the end, the uprising was a failure; the Irish were forced to surrender, and all the participants were executed. However, these patriots didn’t die in vain; they had hoped that their sacrifice would stoke the flames of Irish nationalism and get their fellow citizens to take action for freedom. Several years later (in 1938, maybe?), their struggle paid off and their dreams were realized; Ireland was granted its independence.

Ever since then, the Irish commemorate the selfless sacrifice of these rebels by holding a ceremony on Easter Sunday at the General Post Office. It’s like their version of Independence Day, but without the bunting and the fireworks. And I, unwittingly, managed to get a front-row seat to the action. All divisions of the military had their bands play, the President and Prime Minister and all other important Irish people came in their individual motorcades, and then three fighter jets did a fly-over. It was awesome. And just like the little boy’s song in Doolin, it was a once-in-a-lifetime experience that I will never, ever forget.

The rest of my Easter break included a week in Italy (Pisa, Rome, Florence, and Venice) and then 5 days in the Czech Republic (Prague and elsewhere). But now I need to go work on homework, so I don’t have time to write about them in this post. However, I will do my best to make time to fill you in on the rest of my Easter adventures.

Having spent nine days in Ireland, I came to this conclusion: I HAVE TO GO BACK. Nine days was simply not enough; I LOVED it. Here’s an analogy to describe my feelings: The U.S.A. is my family, Germany is my ancestors, I’m currently in a long-term relationship with Austria (I think we are beyond the dating phase), but I have a HUGE country-crush on Ireland. Don’t tell Austria, though; he might get jealous. ;)

As they say in Ireland, “thanks a million” for reading to the end (I hope you enjoyed your study break, G-Little), and I will update you again soon. Have a wonderful day wherever you are! God bless! :)

Kleines Dorf und der Sonnenschein (Small Town and Sunshine)

Ugh. I am so sick of being on my computer. It’s my own fault, really. For my American Constitution class, we each had to choose a colony for our semester project, and tomorrow we are supposed to turn in a working bibliography/list of possible sources. Well, I made the mistake of choosing Rhode Island. I thought there would be plenty of information on colonial Rhode Island. As usual, I thought wrong. And so, I spent the last 2.5 hours vainly searching the internet, OSU’s online databases, and everywhere else I could think of. But unfortunately, there wasn’t much to be found. I repeat: ugh. This might just be a hard paper to write. And it certainly doesn’t help that I am in Austria, attempting to find books about America’s smallest state. Oh well. Even though I am really tired of staring at this screen, I decided to continue staring at this screen—so I could update my blog for you! :)

While I am feeling rather frustrated about this homework assignment, I won’t let it get me down. I’m in Austria, so I will follow the advice of Fraulein Maria in the “Sound of Music” and think of my favorite things, and then I won’t feel… so… baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad! (that is my attempt at visually portaying the ending note of the song’s finale. I think I was a little off-key, though.) :/

Anyway, it won’t be that hard to think of my favorite things; I have found plenty of them here! Life is going so well. And it keeps getting better all the time…
Last week, I got to spend a lot of time with my friends, which was wonderful. The week was busy, but awesome: Dinner with friends on Tuesday, dinner with friends again on Wednesday (hamburger with pumpkin-seed-oil sauce; it was among the best burgers I’ve ever eaten!), going to an Irish pub on St. Patrick’s Day with my friends, having different friends over for another Mexican food and peanut butter cookies dinner on Thursday, and then an official ESN international dinner extravaganza on Friday. I pretended not to have a gluten allergy that night, and even though I felt sick afterward, it was totally worth it. Everyone brought a specialty from his or her home country: Spanish omelets, Hungarian goulash, French cheesecake, Swiss cheese (seriously!), German Apfel Struedel, Croatian something-I-couldn’t-pronounce-but-tasted-like-funnel-cake—and everything in between! It was incredible, and my taste buds were very, very happy.
Saturday was a day I will never forget; I got to visit the tiny town of Alkoven, Austria, where my great-great grandfather Peter Lehner was born in 1850. Getting there was a long process: a three-hour train from Graz to Linz (Austria’s 3rd-largest city). I barely missed the train to Alkoven (I was buying my ticket just as it was leaving the platform), so I had to wait an hour and a half for the next one. But it was oh so very worth it! The town of Alkoven is adorable, positively precious. About 5,000 people live there, and most of them come from families that have lived in Alkoven for generations on end. And they were seriously some of the nicest people I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. Let me tell you about what happened.

I had two main goals in going to Alkoven: find the church where Peter was baptized and find the house where he was born. Twenty-three years ago, my Mama and Nana (my grandmother, Peter’s granddaughter) visited Alkoven and managed to accomplish both those goals. Fingers crossed (or in German “thumbs pressed”), I hoped I could do the same. Goal number one proved relatively easy. I walked into a cute little flower shop and asked the women working there where Kirchenstrasse (church street) was located. After five minutes of walking, I goal number one had been realized. And the church was beautiful! Going inside, I found the baptismal font just as my mom had described it; I got goosebumps and tears came to my eyes as I touched the font where my great-great grandfather had been baptized 160 earlier. How many people can say they have done that? Not very many, I don’t think. Needless to say, it was a very meaningful and moving experience for me. And then to think that my Nana had been there, too, only a few years before I was born, well, that made me want to cry too. You see, I lost my Nana last spring; even though I know she is in heaven and I will see her again someday, I still miss her an awful lot. But I have a feeling that God let her peek down from above while I was inside the church. And despite the wave of sadness, that thought made me smile.

Having found the church, I had accomplished half of my mission; now I just needed to find the house. Just outside the churchyard stood a gray building where the pastor lived. My Mama had told me that the church kept records of all baptisms and that, if the pastor had the record book, he would be able to tell me what house Peter had lived in. Unfortunately, however, the pastor was not home. Somewhat frustrated, I wandered back to the church and did what any normal person does when feeling somewhat frustrated: I hung out in the cemetery.
What? You don’t hang out in cemeteries when you are disappointed or frustrated? But the company is so down to earth and empathetic… Just kidding. Ha ha

Actually, I went back to the cemetery and started taking pictures of the headstones belonging to “Lehner.” And, boy, were there a lot of them! Either the Lehners have an unusually high mortality rate, or there are many of them in Alkoven. I’m inclined to think the latter…. By the way, this was the most beautiful cemetery I have ever seen; it was perfectly kept with flowers and crosses and colors everywhere. So if you are feeling somewhat frustrated and you are looking for a cemetery in which to hang out, I highly recommend the one in Alkoven.

Well, anyway, apparently I wasn’t the only visitor on this particular Saturday afternoon. Whilst I was capturing headstones for posterity, a middle-aged woman approached me, looking friendly but bewildered. Her expression said something along the lines of “why in the world are you taking pictures of graves?!” (in a nice way). But before she could ask, I explained to her my situation and that I was looking for my great-great grandfather’s house. My Mama had told me it was either #14 or #18 (they were numbered in the order that they were built. Cool, huh? If we did that in America, though, I think my house number would be 543,343,689,292…435. And that is simply too long to remember).

Back to the story. So this lady, whose name turned out to be Rosemary, decided to make my mission into her personal mission as well. Forget whatever else she needed to do or if she already had plans for that Saturday, she was now my assistant, and she was going to do whatever she could to help me find that house. Our first stop was a bakery café right across from the church. Here she explained my story to the two women working; they proceeded to bring out a couple books containing the complete history of Alkoven, including the history of each house and who had lived there. And then, over coffee, we went through them both, page by page, searching for possible leads on the Lehners. Here we discovered that house #14 wasn’t actually a house (I couldn’t understand what they said it was; they had really difficult accents), but it had been torn down and replaced with a new building. But house #18 happened to be right across the street from the bakery, so we went over there—stop two on our quest. We talked with the cute old couple who live in house 18, but they didn’t know anything about Lehners. They even asked more of their neighbors who happened to be outside, but no luck either. At this point, there were at least 8 or 9 sweet small-town Austrians trying to solve the mystery of my roots. It was so precious. I just wanted to give them all a hug. Meanwhile, one of the women at the bakery got our attention; she had found some Lehners who lived on a farm just outside of town and she thought we should go ask them. So Rosemary and I bid adieu to the house #18 and company and drove to an adorable farm about three minutes away. And though we talked with the owner and her grandmother, they both knew nothing of Peter. Alas. Rosemary drove me back to church and, before going back to her regularly-scheduled Saturday, she asked for my email, so she could ask the pastor and let me know what she found out. About 30 minutes later, I was on a train back to Linz. I wasn’t disappointed that I hadn’t found the house, though; on the contrary, I couldn’t stop smiling because of the genuine kindness of a dozen strangers in Alkoven, Austria.

I spent the rest of the day exploring Linz by myself. And though Linz wasn’t particularly remarkable and I couldn’t locate most of the points of interest in the tourist booklet, it was an absolutely fantastic day. It was so refreshing to spend an entire day by myself—or rather, just me and God. Much-needed and so , so rewarding.

Then Sunday was equally wonderful. The weather was gorgeous—sunny with a high of 75 (Relient K reference, anyone?), so of course, I decided to wear my Chacos. I could feel my feet smiling. :) After church, I went to the Stadtpark (city park) and played volleyball for 2 hours with friends—some old and some new. Then we went out for icecream in the Innenstadt (beautiful old downtown area). At 18:30 (6:30), I met some other friends for dinner, where we stayed at talked until 21:30 (9:30 p.m.). All in all, it was a lovely Sunday and part of a fabulous weekend.

This week is going to be rather hectic, I’m afraid. I have a lot to do before I head out for Easter break. But it will definitely be worth it! On Friday, I fly to Ireland, where I will visit Dublin, Galway, the Aran Islands and Cliffs of Moher, Killarney, and then go back to Dublin, from whence I will fly to Italy, where I will go to Pisa, Rome, Florence, and Venice. I’ll then basically head straight to the Czech Republic, where I will spend a few days in Prague and a day or so in the picturesque eastern Czech Republic. Did I mention that I am excited? Because I am. :)

Well, I am really tired… which means that I probably ought to call it a night. As usual, thank so much for reading my blog; that really means a lot to me. And while, because of my blog, you are updated on my life, I am likely rather clueless about yours. That being said, I would love to hear from you—how you are doing, what you are up to, and how I can be praying for you. So please feel free to send me an email or a facebook message or a snail-mail letter (I’ll give you my address, if you want it) or a carrier-pigeon… anything! It would make my day to hear from you. :)
But I know everyone is busy, so no pressure. Even if I don’t hear from you, know that I still love you all and am praying for you. More importantly, though, know that you are loved by the One who created springtime and sunny days. And whether you live in Alkoven or Rhode Island or anywhere in between, He cares about you, and He’ll never let you go.

Until next time…. Ba ba! (bye bye!) :)

Techo-Musik und Kaffee Treffungen (Techno Beats and Coffee Dates)

Hey y’all! I’m back! (Along with the “awkward turtle,” I am spreading the magic of the word “y’all” around the world. European accents + Southern drawl = AMAZING. Ha ha.)

Hmmm… So it’s been almost a week since I last updated. You’d theoretically think I would have a lot to say. Let’s see what I can drudge up…

OOOOOHHHHH! This is fun! Last Thursday, the ESN (Exchange Student Network) hosted a HUGE party at a Diskothek (Disko for short. It’s the European name for a dance club, not a John Travolta shrine). The party took place at the Postgarage. The name fits it perfectly; from the outside, it honestly looks like an old converted garage. On the inside, however, it’s quite large and is the perfect place for an international party.

Now despite its rather significant size, the Postgarage struggled to accommodate all the guests. Let’s just say that the Fire Marshall would have not been very happy (especially the Fire Marshall in Stillwater, Oklahoma. If he frowned upon the Flash Rave during finals week, he would have had a cow AND thrown hissy fit if he had seen this). In other words, it was very crowded. And very warm. And there was a lot of smoke. BUT it was still a BLAST!

So what does one do at a disko? You might be asking. Well, silly, what do you think?! You dance! Don’t know how to dance? No worries! The constant, incessant pounding of a high-decibel techno beat will have you bee-bopping up and down in no time at all. Don’t think you know any techno songs? Think again! You know plenty of songs that Europe transforms into techno. That’s right; you name it, and they give it a techno beat. My personal favorite of the evening was the theme from “Pirates of the Caribbean.” Bust a move, Jack Sparrow!

Anyway, the party was a BLAST! (did I already mention that?) In fact, it was so much fun, that I really didn’t want to leave. But sadly, I did… at 3:30 a.m. I don’t think my roomie got back until 4:30 or 5 (and she had class the next morning at 8:30), so I was actually relatively early…. ish. :/

Naturally, the next day I was pretty tired. But did I fall asleep in class? No, of course not! It’s kind of hard to fall asleep in class… when you don’t have class! Yes, welcome to the world of 3-day weekends—every weekend. :) Do I love Austria or what?

Speaking of classes, let me give you a quick run-down of my schedule. I am currently taking 12 hours (15 if you count the German intensive course which is already done). And here are my classes:

Monday 8:15-9:30 “Main Topics in Austrian History” (in German)
Monday 16:00-17:30 “Modern State and the Search for International Order” (in English)
Tuesday 14:00-16:00 “Hungary since 1848” (in English, with a professor from Toronto)
Tuesday 16:15-17:45 “Constitutional Issues of the American Revolution” (in English)
Wednesday—NO CLASS!!!
Thursday 17:00-18:30 “Cultural History of Ireland” (in German)

And there is my schedule. Note: I didn’t mean to have this many classes in English. It just kind of happened. They are all fascinating so far, and I think I am going to really enjoy them. Although it does make me kind of nervous since the only grade in most of the classes is the final exam. Eek. :/

Well, I am getting kind of tired, so I should be wrapping up soon, but I want to end with this thought. Romans 12:13b says this: “Practice hospitality.” I love that. It’s one sentence, two words, so simple. I’ve read it so many times (Romans 12 happens to be one of my favorite chapters in the Bible; if you’ve never read it, you should go check it out.) I’ve read it many a time, but I don’t think I’ve ever tangibly understood what it meant. But I think I am beginning to.

On the surface, Austrians don’t come off as the friendliest of people. In America, we tend to be really open with each other about everything. For example, in America you can go to Wal-Mart, ask the cashier how his or her day is going, and there is a good chance you will get an actual answer, more than just a “fine, thanks.” In Austria, you don’t even ask the cashier how he or she is doing; it’s considered intrusive. And you don’t smile at people when you make eye contact with them on the street. I don’t know why, but it’s just not something you do.

But despite this apparent stiffness and lack of openness, I believe Austrians are among the most friendly and hospitable people I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. In one of my last posts, I told about my friend Debbie who invited me over for lunch after church—five minutes after meeting me. Last week after one of my classes, the girl sitting next to me (with whom I had chatted for two minutes maximum before the professor began her lecture) invited me to go out for coffee with her after class; unfortunately, I couldn’t go because I had to meet with the American history professor, but her offer still warmed my heart. Last Friday, I went to the 20th birthday party of my friend Maria from church. She had invited me a couple weeks before—the same evening I met her. I’m going out for coffee later this week with the teacher from my German class, and I’m planning on meeting up with an Austrian student at some point, so he can practice his German and I can help him with English.

I don’t know if I am making any sense; I’m probably just rambling again, as usual. But the experiences I briefly shared here are just a few examples of what I keep seeing: Austrians seem to care for people and value them, even if they barely know them. In other words, Austrians practice hospitality.

What a humbling feeling, to have a stranger care about you. And even more humbling to ponder: do I practice hospitality? No. No, I don’t. Instead, I have a frustrating tendency to go about my life at break-neck speed, wearing blinders that force me to look straight ahead. I go so fast and get so busy that I forget about people, forget how valuable they really are. Yes, I legitimately have things to do, responsibilities to fulfill, and work to accomplish. But that shouldn’t be an excuse, should it? I don’t think so. Especially not when Romans 12:13 states it so clearly: Practice hospitality.

From what I have seen, Paul could have also said, “Act like an Austrian.” And, as far as hospitality is concerned, that is exactly what I want to do.
As always, thanks again for reading my blog. Know today that you are loved—both by me in Austria and by the God who made you and sent His Son to die for you. Hope you have an absolutely fantastic and incredible day—wherever you are! :)

Oh, and go listen to the techno “Pirates of the Caribbean” theme on YouTube. But be warned: You just might start dancing! ;)

Here is the link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t-Mwh3PL6h8

Mexican Food & American History

And now it’s time for another “Story-time with Steffi” :)

Where to begin? So many adventures to describe and so little brain-power with which to do it (I’m getting sleepy; it’s late here.) Let’s see….

On Saturday, I went skiing. It was beyond beautiful, like seeing a little glimpse of heaven. The mountains were gorgeous, the view was incredible, and I somehow managed to hold my own and come through unscathed. (I actually fell three times—all at level places when I quit paying attention. Isn’t that how life works? When things get easy, we get distracted and start coasting… then wipe-out.) Anyway, skiing was absolutely lovely. I had a fantastic time with my friends Marie and Anne-So (short for Anne-Sophie) from France and Anna from Sweden. Definitely worth my 56 euros (60 if you count the hot chocolates) :)

Sunday I went on a freezing-cold tour of the city of Graz. Despite the arctic conditions, the city was quite beautiful, and I learned a lot on the tour, thanks to David Zottler, the wonderful tour guide. Graz is far more impressive and important than I ever realized; now I have a much better appreciation for my home away from home. Founded in the 1200s, Graz is now the second largest city in Austria with 300,000 citizens (Vienna has 1.7 million. That’s a pretty wide first-place margin.) During the glorious days of the Ottoman Empire, Graz represented the frontline in Christendom’s struggle against Islam; today Graz still boasts one of the largest armories in Europe, if not the world. Much of Graz’s buildings were designed by Italian architects, so the city has a distinctly Italian Renaissance feeling, complete with brightly colored buildings, a Franciscan monastery, and inner courtyards. Johannes Kepler, famous astronomer, lived in Graz for six years and developed some of his important laws during his time here. His house still exists; one of the stops on the pub crash was actually right next door to it, but I had no idea! Napoleon had a personal grudge against Graz; he besieged the fortress that is now known as the Schlossberg but was unable to take it. Irked, the miniature French conqueror had his revenge; after taking Vienna a few years later, in the terms of peace, he ordered that Graz’s fortress be completely destroyed, since he couldn’t capture it. Fortunately, the residents of Graz were able to raise enough money to buy the Clock Tower and save it; it remains the primary symbol of Graz to this day.

All that being said, I definitely have much more respect for Graz; what a fascinating history! And after the tour, our group went to a pub—of course—and ended up hanging out for three more hours. And—of course—it was a blast. I especially enjoyed talking with my new Scottish friend; his accent is phenomenal! I love it! I also learned some fun new Scottish words that you might enjoy. Here’s a wee sentence for you: “I’m going to wear a wooly jumper and drink some soft juice.” Translation: “I’m going to wear a sweater and drink some soda pop.” Pretty sweet, eh? :)

I had some trouble in the last week and a half with sleeping. And by “trouble”, I mean that I was barely sleeping at all. The combination of social activities and staying out late and getting up early and having a diskothek (dance club) on the first floor of my building made it virtually impossible to sleep. On top of that, it felt as if my body had forgotten how to fall asleep; I was lying awake for 2-4 hours before finally sleeping, regardless of how exhausted I was. (And after skiing, I was pretty darn exhausted). Fortunately, on Monday I was able to make my first visit to an Austrian doctor. Bertie Klinger (awesome name, isn’t it? Reminiscent of Star Trek, maybe?) gave me some melatonin, and I could not be more grateful. The last few nights, I have slept like a baby (do babies sleep well? I’ve always wondered about the validity of that expression…) But I feel much better, and I could not be more grateful.

Oh, and guess what! God still does miracles! No really, I can prove it! : I am learning to cook!... and I’m enjoying it! Is Hell freezing over? Are pigs flying? Did the Chiefs win the Super Bowl? The impossible does happen! Steffi can cook! :) I tested out my newly-honed cooking skills on some international friends tonight; Igor from Macedonia, Jodie from Canada, Anne-So from France, Nik from Switzerland, Marin from Croatia, and Miroslav from Czech Republic all sampled my Mexican cooking, and from what I can tell, they loved it! (I don’t have any leftovers; shouldn’t that be a good indicator?) It was a really enjoyable evening, and I think everyone had a good time. And my cooking didn’t do any bodily harm to anyone, so I am officially happy. :)

Okay, now it is time to temporarily shift into a slightly more serious mode; I have a quick story to share with you about God’ goodness and provision. It may seem really simple and unimportant, but it meant so much to me. Let me explain.
If you’ve been reading my blog, you know that I went through an adventure when trying to enroll in classes here. Bring a life-jacket while trying to wade through European bureaucracy; you might drown otherwise. But I finally got enrolled and went to classes and everything should have been hunky-dory, right? In theory. In reality, though, things became very complicated. I found out yesterday (Tuesday) that my German intensive course will likely not count as an upper-division German course at Oklahoma State. That is very, very bad because I need those credits as upper-division. If they don’t count, my schedule for next year gets very messed up, and I would need to take 18 hours in either the spring or the fall to graduate on time. Doable, but definitely not ideal. Not ideal at all.

Once I found this out, I sent out a series of frantic-ish emails to my advisors at OSU, the director of the language courses at my Austrian university and the study abroad coordinator at OSU. I thought maybe I could enroll in another German course here and have it count as upper-division; the deadline to enroll had already passed, but it might still be possible. Yes, it was still possible, but then I realized that the course I needed was at the same time as my Hungarian history class (in English with a professor from Toronto. I am so excited about and would not consider dropping this class). After several anxious emails with the advisors at OSU, I realized my situation was pretty crummy; I didn’t have any options, and the OSU study abroad coordinator (who needs to approve the German course as upper-division) was at a conference and wouldn’t have access to her email. So I was basically up a creek without a paddle. And from what I understand, that is not a good place to be.

Well, then I thought, maybe, just maybe I could try to enroll in an American history class here in addition to the 12 hours I am taking (actually only 9 because 3 were the German course that is already over). That would take care of some credits for next year, and the class would be in English (a definite plus). Why not give it a shot?

So I looked up the courses and found one about the American Constitutional period that would be worth 3 US credits—exactly what I needed! The time fit into my schedule perfectly; it seemed to be ideal. But there was one problem: the class meets on Tuesday afternoons. I was looking at this on Tuesday night. That meant that two class sessions had already taken place. Since this was labeled a “proseminar” and not a lecture course, I wasn’t sure if I would still be allowed in. But I decided to send the professor an email anyway. What could it hurt?

It was then I realized that I had already met this professor. Not only am I in another of his classes (Modern State Since 1500), but we had chatted briefly at the welcome lunch for all international students hosted by the Rector of the university last Thursday. At the pub crash on Wednesday, one of my friends reminded me about it; otherwise, I would have completely forgotten to go. While I was at the lunch, I talked with this professor Siegfried Beer (now THERE’S an Austrian name for you!) for a couple minutes; he had done a Fulbright in Connecticut back in the day, and now he teaches classes on American history. So basically, we talked for five minutes maximum and then he left. But I remembered him because the Fulbright program intrigues me; I plan to apply for one for Austria, and I thought maybe he could help. But I never even introduced myself, or vice versa.

So last night (very late. We had Stammtisch last night, and I didn’t get back until 12:45), I sent him an email and then said a quick prayer, asking God to work out this situation with credits and courses. Then I went to bed. This morning, I woke up to see that Professor Beer had replied. Here is his email:

Good morning,
of course I remember you and believe it or not, I even recently thought of you wishing I would have asked your name at the ERASMUS festivity. The reason: I am in search of more students for exactly the course which you are applying for. How lucky can we get? You need another class and I need you.
We had our second session yesterday afternoon but it will not be difficult for you to catch up. I suggest the following: you come by my office at your convenience, preferably already today (my only class-less day) and I will give you the scoop on what already happened in 505.526 and what will be expected of you in the course which is what we call a pro-seminar. Just send me a response and let me know if and when you can come by at Attemsgasse 8/III so I can make sure to be at the office at the hour you suggest.
You will not be able to register on your own; maybe through your advisor but it will be no problem at all for me to do that for you through our secretariat here in Attemsgasse 8/III.
So, let's fly it.
Optimistically,
S.B.

Crazy, isn’t it? I had to read it a couple of times just to believe it. I met with him this afternoon and am squared away to take his class—and graduate on time in May!

God cares about the little details of our lives. I don’t understand it at all, why such a huge, all-powerful, and almighty God would be interested in me. But for some unfathomable reason, He is. Even in the little things, like enrolling and graduating. He cares about me and about you even if we don’t always recognize it. I was so blessed to get to see His caring today in a very tangible way. I hope and pray that He opens your eyes to see it today in your life as well.

Now go enjoy some Mexican food and think of me. :)

"Pub Crash" and Pictionary

I am having the time of my life. I know I say that every time, but I really mean it; this whole experience has been a non-stop adventure, and I am loving it. This week was certainly no exception. In addition to classes starting, this week included the most enjoyable social times thus far. I already told you about the two international dinners at the beginning of the week, but now it’s time to fill you in on Wednesday and Thursday—Pub Crash and Movie Night.

What would the first week of class be without a night at the pubs? Apparently the ESN (Exchange Student Network) believes the two should go hand-in-hand; they organized a “Pub Crash” (which in American English is normally “Pub Crawl”) on Wednesday night. The first 30 people to sign up and pay their nine Euros could participate and get a “free” drink at each pub (“free” because we paid 9 Euros beforehand). We met at the Hauptplatz (main square) at 8 p.m., split into 3 groups of 10 people each, and then headed to the pubs, where we proceeded to have a blast. :)

I think our group was what made the experience so fun. There were two other Americans (both from Minnesota, both attending Iowa State), two Dutch, two Croatians, one Swiss, and a couple Austrians who acted as our guides. We all got along really well, and we had such a great time talking to each other and hanging out. I am not doing an adequate job of describing how awesome it was. Dang it. I guess you’ll just have to take my word for it: it was AWESOME. And I learned so much! Here goes:

1)Dexter is another favorite show in Europe. But “How I Met Your Mother” is still the favorite.
2)In Holland, there is a version of the American Greek (fraternity and sorority) system. But it is WAY more hard-core. The hazing is CRAZY; it makes our Greeks look wimpy!
3)Weed is neither illegal nor legal in Holland. It’s legal for coffeeshop owners to sell it, but not to buy it. So how do they get it? Also, people can’t smoke it on the street; they get fined. And finally, people grow weed on top of their houses. During winter, the police fly over and see which houses have no snow on their roofs (These houses have heating systems for the weed plants.)
4)Strawberry juice tastes incredible!
5)China should buy Hummer and start producing them.
6) Speeding tickets in Switzerland are ridiculous: you get a 45 Euro fine for going 2 miles over the speed limit
7)And I am an epic failure at speaking both Dutch and Croatian.
And my favorite lesson from the evening:
8)According to a real-life Dutch frat boy: I am really fun to party with. Ha ha ha. :) His exact words, “We need to do this again sometime! You are really fun!”
All in all, it was SO MUCH FUN (have I mentioned that already?)
Then last night, several of us from the pub crash got together again at Nik (from Switzerland) ‘s room. He lives in the same building as I do. We had a movie night, and then I taught them how to play “Passing Pictionary,” which is one of the best games ever. If you’re interested, I can teach you, too. Anyway, they LOVED it! :)
Today has been a chill sort of day; I ran some errands and have been working on homework and my Wentz research paper most of the day. In a few minutes, I am leaving to eat dinner with more international friends and then go to a big Erasmus party this evening. But I can’t stay too late because I have to get up really early tomorrow morning. Why do I have to get up early on Saturday? So glad you asked! Because I am going skiing for the day! Did I already say that I am having the time of my life? :)

On a more serious note, though, I do miss everyone at home—my wonderful family and my amazing friends. I haven’t forgotten about all of you! In fact, I would love to hear from you, about what is going on in your lives. I can’t be there in person, but I am there in spirit. And I would love to pray for you; just let me know specifically how.

Oh, I have been doing well spiritually. I kind of had a spiritual epiphany earlier this week, and since then, my relationship with God has been rejuvenated and refreshed. It’s been amazing! I’m having my devotions really consistently, and I’ve even started reading the Bible and memorizing verses in German! It’s been unbelievably satisfying, like I am getting a whole different perspective on my faith and my God. I love it! That being said, though, things are far from perfect, and I have been going through difficult phases here in Austria. I would really appreciate your prayers if you think of it.

Well, I have to go, but I hope you have an incredibly day—wherever you are! Auf wiedersehen! (Until next time!) :)

"Wie Ich Deine Mutter Getroffen Habe" ("How I Met Your Mother")

So I have officially been living in Austria for one month and one day now. I think I am finally getting adjusted to the swing of things, like the lightning-fast speed of the grocery store check-out process (I'm sorry! I know you are already three customers past me, but I still am trying to stuff all my things into the bag I brought from home!) As of today, I can now actually use the money in the Austrian bank account I set up three weeks ago. (They send the card and the PIN number separately a few days apart, but my PIN number never came and they had to order a new one.) And I have met some amazing people and made wonderful friends with whom I get to spend a lot of time.

Who are these friends? You might ask. Well, let me tell you about them. Before I came, a friend of mine urged me to get to know as many Erasmus students as possible because they would become like a family away from my family. (Jennifer Lawmaster, I hope you are reading this, because this is officially your shout-out) :) As far as I can tell, she was completely right.

Let me just say this: I LOVE my Erasmus friends. They are incredible, and I want to be their friend forever. Last night in my flat, we had what will hopefully be the first of many "international dinners." Giulia from Italy made delectable pasta (gluten-free just for me), the girls from France teamed up and made melt-in-your-mouth crepes, Jodie from Canada brought salad and fruit, and I managed to wow everyone with my impossibly easy-to-make peanut butter cookies. (Thanks for the recipe, Omi! It is officially a hit in Europe! :) ) It was so much fun hanging out with my friends, all speaking German and sharing aspects of our cultures with each other. As I already said (and I am sure you will hear/read me saying again and again), I LOVE my Erasmus friends! :) :) :) Tonight, Gina, my roomie from Korea had friends from her class over for dinner, and--guess what!--it was a blast too! I taught them how to do "The Awkward Turtle," and they tried to teach me French and Korean words. Again. So much fun.

I've been learning a lot through these intercultural experiences... For instance, last week I had to teach Meryl, my flat-mate from Singapore, how to use the dishwasher, because no one in Singapore uses them. Tonight, I found out that "Home Alone" and "Love Actually" are the most watched Christmas movies in both France and Korea. And, oh yeah, the most important lesson: "How I Met Your Mother" is officially the most popular TV show in Europe. Does it matter that next to no one watches it in America? Nope. Because it really and truly, without a doubt, is BIG in Europe. ha ha :)

Let's see, what else is happening here? Well, classes started yesterday. That was an adventure. My first class--Austrian History-- was at 8:15 on Monday, a lecture class. Good thing I got there early for once in my life; if I had been at the back of the mass of people, I probably would have been stuck sitting on the floor. But I could have technically arrived later if not for the crowd; the professor didn't show up until fifteen minutes after class was scheduled to start. Crazy, eh? (In Canada, people end their sentences with "eh?" Jodie is rubbing off on me. Ha ha) Oh, and my dreams of traveling long distances over the weekend have officially been shattered. I was only going to have the Austrian history class on Monday and I could potentially skip it if necessary, especially since my next classes were scheduled for Wednesday and Thursday. Not so. Turns out that one of my classes, Modern State since 1500, which until yesterday was scheduled for Wednesday afternoons has now been moved to Monday. Good thing I checked the online schedule because I would have never had a clue otherwise. How can they change the day of the class ON THE DAY THAT CLASSES START? I don’t understand. Crazy, eh? But that’s okay, I suppose, because I still have Fridays off. Can’t complain too much about a three-day weekend every weekend. I’m now in the market for a new weekend travel buddy, though, because Jodie has Friday classes. Boo. :(

Hmmmm…. I think that about sums everything up for now. Things you should take away from this blog post:
1)Erasmus students = Your new best friends.
2)Canadians say “eh” a lot
3)Austrian universities have interesting scheduling policies
4)You—and I—need to start watching “How I Met Your Mother”