Polite Interest

From the start of the program, all of the professors, student assistants, and our now "retired" (some are saying "fired") director kept insisting upon the friendliness of the Austrians--a trait they are all very proud of considering the sheer volume of tourists that come in and out of the tiny country every year. Even after only a few weeks here, it's easy to tell what everyone is talking about. Despite my poorly pronounced German phrases and my inability to understand anyone who speaks quickly--which is everyone--shopkeepers, Taxi drivers and the like are all very patient with me. Even though pretty much everyone speaks English, they will say things in German a little slower when they see that I am attempting their language. Many of them will even help me, repeating the word a few times again with the correct pronunciation as I struggle to follow their slick tongue/throat movements. Obviously with only 2 weeks of this language, most waitresses and Tabak store owners will eventually revert to telling me what I need to know in English, causing us to typically chuckle at each other, glad that there is at least some way we can communicate. What I think is funny that literally the only people I've encountered here  that are rude here are the Italian waitresses--two at an Italian cafe, and one at a pizzeria. I was impressed with my ability to tell they were not Austrian by their accent when speaking German! I think I'm even be able to tell the difference between German German (ha) and Austrian German accents. This shall be tested next week...

But aside from their patience, there is one very "unfriendly" habit, at least by American standards, and it's really quite unnerving once you notice it: No one smiles! Walking down the street in Denver or Walla Walla, making accidental eye-contact with anyone, I typically smile at them, as is the norm, and they smile back. Or if I walk into a store or restaurant at home, an employee will smile at you as they say greet you, but here, smiling just doesn't happen. Everyone greets you when you walk into a store or cafe or something, but there is no smile on their face. And if a stranger smiles at you on the street, returning the gesture has very different connotations than just "hello". Let's just say that on my third day riding on public transportation, this "no smiling" rule slipped my mind and an awkward man of about 45 tried to strike up a conversation with me, thinking that maybe he had a chance...Luckily, he quickly realized that an overweight, middle-aged man is really not my type. 

So while I am having trouble adjusting my tendency to smile at strangers, I am picking up on another Austrian habit. One of the program assistants coined the term "polite interest" for all of staring that people around here do. Quite literally, people will just stare at you, and even when you look back at them, they will not look away! It's the weirdest sensation to look at someone who is staring at you and not have them avert their eyes. The other day, I sat down on the train on my way to class and a woman in a chair facing me literally stared at me for the entire 15 minute ride down Waringerstrasse. It caught me by surprise at first, but I followed the advice of our quirky, ex-fashion-model program assistant, "Just stare back at them! They only want to see what you are about." So I did. She was probably about 60-years-old, wearing an elaborate fur coat (definitely real), with nails coated in sparkly, hot pink polish, and rhinestone encrusted reading glasses hanging around her neck, and though I could not figure her out, I really enjoyed staring at her. Since then, I've really been able to take my love of people watching to the next level because I no longer feel the need to be discrete. For example, if we catch the 8:30am train at Nussdorfstrasse, there trendy woman in spike-heel black boots who gets on in order to take her adorable children to day-care. The little buy always wears an orange hat with ear flaps and the little girl has a huge pink puffy coat that she wears and a sock monkey that looks like it's been everywhere--there was one morning when they got on and off again because she forgot it. My favorite so far has been the older women because I am really trying to figure them out--a great majority of them have bright streaks of color in their hair, like blue, or  purple, or red, and some have their entire head dyed--one woman reminding me Ronald McDonald, complete with giant yellow coat.

Sometimes, it's like having a staring contest with strangers. This morning, as the train sat at the Schottentor station, waiting for a light to change, I was looking out the window and saw that a boy, probably my age was staring at me. As it is with a staring contest, I stared right back, seeing who would lose by looking away first. And of course, being an amateur at this contest, I lost.