Lesson #9 Fog on the brain...

Let’s kick-start with a weather whinge! Serves me right for complaining last time I suppose, but now the non-snow has moved from sunny warmth to grey foggy wetness. Predictions of snow range from tomorrow to the end of February, and indeed I may well give up any kind of weather reporting in the interim as it’s just going to get more and more whiny! In general, I have noticed an unwelcome streak of ingratitude in my outlook since being back in Austria. Before Christmas almost every day felt like a gift from God and I could see so many things to be thankful for. Now I struggle to be genuinely grateful. I think it’s a combination of missing people at home after such a lovely holiday, and of coming back with different expectations. I went out originally expecting the worst time my life and was wonderfully surprised - maybe this time there has been something of a reverse. Hopefully even this post will play its part in reminding me of everything I have to be thankful for!

So. First week back was a mish-mash of organisational faffing, the odd bit of teaching and a renewed relationship with Spar (I‘d forgotten it has its own smell…). Thanks to the pleasant disorganisation of the beginning of term I have so far only had 6 lessons all told! Despite this lack of work I have finally been paid and have a few Euros to my name. Plus I officially live here on a long-term basis and have the extra paperwork to prove it. Getting reacquainted with my bike has been an interesting experience - as predicted by several teachers, bike riding in January is a rather dangerous practice, but this is due to mud rather than ice. Have had a few hairy-scary moments but no slimy catastrophe as yet…

To be honest, I don’t really feel like I’ve managed to settle back in again. I was astonished at how far away it all seemed as soon as I was back home, and somehow the sense of that is still there. I haven’t immediately slotted back in the way I did at home, but nor do I have that exciting feeling of freshness about it all. Most annoying. I choose to blame the fog, and in fact last Sunday, as we set off for ski week, the beautiful pink-tinged sky framing the mountains in gently frosty air gave me a real lift of the heart. My pretty Austria is still out there…
Ski week! Yes, last week I joined 9 teachers and 94 kids from the Gymnasium for their ski course. It’s quite a different set-up from our school ski trips at home - it happens during term-time, the teachers themselves are qualified instructors, and kids have to have a reason NOT to go. This does mean you get quite a few ‘ill’ at various points during the week… Oh yes, and of course everyone has their own kit. I got some very odd looks on announcing I was just off to hire some boots.

We set off on Sunday morning, and there was some panic as I arrived ‘late’ (i.e. only 5 minutes early) to a severe lack of seat-space. Happily a place was found, and I was pleased to be reminded that some things cross all boundaries of nationality - breeds of bus-driver being one such thing. Ours was of the gruff friendly ‘do-what-ya-like-but-don’t-do-x’ type, and with a long blast of the horn we were off. (Interestingly, Happy Birthday seems to be another border-crosser. A couple of the students turned 13 mid-week and as well as a rowdy German song we had Happy Birthday, sung in English. Apparently this is completely normal.)
Twas very strange to arrive at ski pistes within four hours rather than 24! In spite of the lack of real snow the skiing was fantastic, all the more so since we started as soon as we’d unpacked. I’d like to feel I did England proud, despite that incident with the sheet ice and friendly tree, and it’s true I was in the fastest group - but as mentioned earlier, these guys are 7 years younger than me…
I confess I started the week feeling very unofficial, as it was clear noone knew what role or responsibilities I was supposed to have and so as a result I ended up having none. While this feeling didn’t fade with time, everyone was so friendly that I soon felt at least legitimate if not particularly useful! And I gradually learnt to deal with the banter - I think Austrians are even more sarcastic than Brits…Relationship to the kids remained fairly ambiguous: I don’t teach any of them so they don’t know me, and my ski-group estimated my age at 15, but the fact that I was sat at the Teachers Table made things confusing, I think! However, managed to chat to a few, and definitely won the respect of some of the girls after playing on the teachers’ team in the football tournament! Will never cease being grateful to my Dad for getting me into the game, I’ve lost count how many boundaries it’s helped me over in the past!
Anyway it was BRILLIANT to get a chance to ski and I mostly enjoyed the week in all it’s various oddness. Plus on an afternoon trip to Saalbach I proved I’m well and truly a Hanlon, with their innate ability for ridiculously inappropriate dress in posh hotels. I have photos to prove it. And while recovering after skiing I discovered 2 genuine Austrian soaps: all wealthy but complicated people, gold flattering light and melodramatic music… It’s not Eastenders out here!!

Since being back, have however resisted temptation to watch it compulsively and have instead started in all earnestness on my project. But now, the end of another week means it’s time to go fight with the Evil Washing Machines. Hope I can convince them not to eat my clothes this time…

Lesson #8 December

Well obviously keeping up with my blog is one of my New Year’s resolutions, so expect a flurry of enthusiastic anecdotes before I dry up again some time in February.

I’ll kick us off with a weather report, which unfortunately means a whinge. Not only is there no snow, but it’s so warm (well, un-cold anyway) that I’ve been wandering around without a coat on! My hopes of winter wonderland have thus taken a cruel blow. Looks like I’ll be waiting a bit longer. Still, it was nice to be able to do some reconnaissance with sunshine blinding me over the mountains.

In defence of my lack of blogging, December was a busy month in the best possible way with (in reverse order!) a mini Austro-Spanish Christmas party, a visit to Nicola in valley-bound Murau and then Salzburg, and a long weekend in beautifully snowy Katschberg with Katrin and family (I’ve built my snowman, I can’t really complain…). The first faint pangs of what could have become homesickness were fended off by the arrival of Katie on December 1st. She stayed 5 days and certainly got to experience the interesting side of Austria! The week before she arrived I’d been hearing various tales and rumours of something odd that was to happen on the Tuesday night, but nothing prepared us for the event!

In Austria, our Father Christmas is a rare and relatively new phenomenon - instead, here there is something called the Christkindl who brings the presents. I’ve heard different stories from different students, but most agree it’s an angel, some say she’s a girl, and a few give her long curly hair. She delivers the presents on Christmas Eve while the children are away, and in some houses she decorates the tree as well! However Father Christmas does come to Austria in his original guise of St Nicolas (Nikolaus). On December 5th Nikolaus visits, bringing with him small presents and sweets. Unfortunately he also brings a companion in the form of Krampus, a horned demon covered in goat hair and armed with a birch switch, who wears a cowbell to warn you of his coming. His activities vary depending on what part of Austria you’re in - as Katie and I discovered while desperately scouring the internet trying to work out exactly what was about to knock on our door...

Having found nothing, we meet up with Alix in Bruck that evening to see it all for ourselves. To start with everything is quite lovely - we wander round looking at the small Christmas market and the only Krampus’ we see are about 6 years old and very cute in their horns and fluff. And more concerned about staying close to Mum than hitting anyone. Sweet as these baby Krampus’ are (we even spot a girl one), as time passes disappointment threatens. Does this really require extra police and lead to serious debate about the difference between Krampus-related fun and charges of assault?? It all seems quite tame… and yet in the background are the far-off sounds of firecrackers, cow-bells, and even screams…

Never fear, Krampus is most definitely here. Sipping coffee in Bruck main square, we suddenly hear an almighty clanging of cow-bells. A whole gang of Krampus’ is rapidly approaching across the street - these ones are big and their menacing walk is fast and purposeful. Failing to take into account the implications of being three girls standing alone, and trusting in Katrin’s assurance that Krampus doesn’t hit girls he doesn’t know, we make the mistake of taking photos. Katie sees the danger first, and just as her warnings reach squeaking-point, we run! Flying across the square through the fountain - which happily doesn’t decide to turn itself back on - I’m pursued by clanking bells and pounding feet. Two hard thwacks across the back of the legs with what feels like a handful of sticks, and Krampus leaves off to pursue other prey, leaving me breathless and covered in coffee, but very much entertained!

After such an experience we most definitely need a Gluhwein. For the next half and hour or so we stand by the stall - which has kindly left out plates of Lebkuchen and free-standing heaters - and observe: baby Krampus’ being teased by bigger ones or fighting each other, teenage girls running squealing here and there being chased or shuffling about huddled in protective groups, Krampus stalking around everywhere. Some groups of girls seem to be each following a particular Krampus, whether as fans or for safety is not clear! As the evening goes on you can spot bigger Krampus’ taking their heads off for a chat or a smoke, which renders them somewhat less threatening. Boys who aren’t dressed as Krampus group down one end of the square and engage in a few risky games with firecrackers.

A bit later things get more official, with for or five very elaborate Krampus’ getting on stage to do a kind of dance with lots of smoke and red light. These ones pose for people’s photos and are generally more austere for all that they look more like the real deal. A procession follows, with poor old St Nikolaus heading the whole rabble of Krampus of all shapes and sizes. Watching, I’m a bit sad that I can’t feel more involved. If it was at home we’d be concocting elaborate plans to get revenge on the boys, but here we’re only observers, tourists who got momentarily caught up in it. But it was still really good fun, and looking back as me, Kt and Alix take advantage of the distraction and shuffle off to a restaurant for dinner, I get the impression that Gluhwein and conviviality - and random (but hopefully restrained) violence - will continue long into the night.

That’s it for first post of 2007. If you don’t hear from me again you could assume I’m lazy but that would be uncharitable - it’s more likely that I haven’t made it through my first weekend back. I hadn’t realised that today is holiday, so we’ll have to see whether I can stretch out my stockpile of soup and tinned pasta to last Monday. Am going to go rootle through the freezer to see if I’ve got any forgotten veggie sausages. Wish me luck…