Romeo and Juliet

      This afternoon, as I sat sort-of doing my homework in the IES library, I decided that I wanted to do something tonight. My first thought was to look at the schedule for the Staatsoper, so I look it up online, and low and behold, the ballet of Romeo and Juliet is on. 

So Instead of sitting at a table doing my reading, I decide that I will go grab dinner, and read about International Finance while waiting in line for standing room tickets. I got there about two hours before the show started, an hour before the box office opened, and by the time I got to the window, the lower level "seats" were already sold out, so I had to buy a 3 euro ticket up on the balcony--aka the nosebleeds of the Staatsoper. Luckily, I was one of the first to get the balcony tickets, so I got the front row. There was a lot of leaning over the railing involved, and I couldn't exactly see what was happening on far stage right...but hey...the people with real seats right in front of me paid about 6 times more than I did for my ticket, so I really have nothing to complain about.

I love the fact that I can make a last minute decision to go to a ballet and it works out totally fine--aside from the fact that I was wearing tennis shoes and a t-shirt. But really, what else is new for me? I feel like I'm pretty much always under dressed :)

Monet bis Picasso und Gerhard Richter

Yesterday, Saturday, after getting some much needed sleep until about noon, I turn to roommate Lauren and announce that we need to get out of our pajamas and go a museum I've been wanting to see since I got here, the Albertina. This museum is just behind the Hofburg palace in the 1st district, only a few blocks from the IES center. It was once the guest apartments of the royal family--I decided as we walked through the state rooms on the second floor that I would be okay with staying there.  The Albertina has an absolutely enormous collection of 

graphics and paintings, which are pretty much in constant rotation, so for the next few months, there is a "Monet bis Picasso" exhibition, which is based off of a collection from a family that was very into the expressionist style and all things similar. I was particularly excited about this because with my art class all I've been seeing lately is ancient Roman ruins and early Christian paintings, which all get a little boring to me after awhile. Plus, I've always loved Monet...who doesn't really? 

I really enjoyed the exhibit, even though it only ended up having about three Monet paintings, but lots of Picasso I'd never seen before and many artists my art-illiterate self had never heard of, but liked. Lauren is an art history major, so however much I don't like studying it, I like having her in a museum with me, full of lots of interesting information that I can only appreciate as the art is here in front of me. 

So while we went there for the expressionist exhibit, we were of course also going to see the other exhibition going on, of an artist I did not know by name, but recognized some of his

 work when I actually saw it, Gerhard Richter. At the beginning of the exhibit, there was an

explanation of his artwork (though I realized, that it really cannot be explained), and it quoted him saying something like, he never went into his art with any intentions, and he didn't want it to have to be anything. That's not the best explanation of what I read, but walking through this exhibition, it is clear that this man had absolutely no boundaries, or perhaps even direction. There was just so much variety of art, from all gray paintings to HUGE canvas' coated in bright, clashing colors. There were dozens of watercolors and even more graphite drawings--everything. But what I was most impressed by was the paintings that looked like pictures from a camera--just so absolutely perfect that you could only really tell it was an oil painting by

 getting up close and seeing the brush strokes. Wandering through this exhibit, seeing over 40 years of this artist's work hung up on the walls, was wonderful. I really enjoyed myself. I would

definitely be willing to pay the 7 euro again, just to go back and see it.

Lauren and I were sitting in front of one of the last paintings in the exhibit--an extremely realistic oil painting of a lit candle--and she leans to me and says, "You know, I've always thought of a great artist as someone who can make the sun shine through the clouds, or make the water glisten, or make  a candle flicker." Gerhard Richter did all three of those things, and we had just seen all of them. 

This one day, we decided to go to Slovakia

The train from Vienna to Bratislava, the capital of Slovakia, is only about an hour, and 14 euro, so why WOULDN'T we go? A few friends and myself pulled ourselves out of bed at 11am one Saturday, and had a wonderful time--here are some pictures!

Uploading pictures is a little tricky on this site...so it looks a little bit funny! Es tut mir lied.

A Weekend in the Alps

Last weekend, IES led a ski trip to a ski area called Radtstat, not too far out of Saltzburg (where The Sound of Music took place). We left Vienna about 1 o'clock on Friday, and got to the mountain at about 6pm that night. After renting all our skis and snowboards, we checked into our hostel that was about a five minute walk to the base of the mountain. Apparently, a five a hour bus ride makes you very tired, so we all went to bed around 11pm. Next morning we woke up to snow falling and a fresh few inches (centimeters?) of snow. After a big breakfast and stuffing our pockets with food from the buffet, we got our two day passes and headed up the gondola. Me and a few friends broke off from the massive IES group that formed at the top of the mountain, and explored the mountain. Usually, I'm one of a few snowboarders

 in a group, but all the people I spent the day with were snowboarding too, and only one skier! It was a bit surprising at first, but I liked it. I also found it funny that out of the entire 40 IES people, I was the only girl snowboarder--it kind of made me feel like a badass. But anyways, the snow was pretty good, and it wasn't too crowded, so no lines and no traffic jams on the hill. The mountain we were on had only a few lifts on it, so that evening we decided we would take a bus to another mountain near by that looked much bigger and went up much higher. 

Sunday we woke up a cloudless ski, and an ABSOLUTELY INCREDIBLE VIEW. I was in awe at how beautiful these mountains were. My friends were all surprised by my reaction considering the fact that I live in the Rockies, but these mountains were in a whole different category--I feel like I can't even explain it! So we rode the gondola up to the mountain we had skied the day before, then skied over to the base of another little mountain to catch the bus. Once we got to the other mountain (only about a 10 minute bus ride), we immediately got in the gondola line, to go up to the very top. Now as some of you know, the Europeans don't exactly believe in standing in line, so the whole process of getting into the gondola was a little hectic, but I ended up getting in one of this tiny, definitely still from the 70's, 4-person gondola with two little girls and their ski instructor. The first hill we went up was probably at a 70degree angle, which freaked me out a little bit, but I brushed it off--the view was fantastic and I was enjoying trying to figure out what the little girls were talking about. After about five minutes, we come up over

 a ridge, and all of the sudden there's this huge gust of wind that slams my snowboard into the window outside and scares all of us. We all kind of laugh while I'm hoping that it doesn't fall off or something. All the sudden, the gondola jerks to a stop, and the wind is so strong, the car is LITERALLY almost sideways. I then made the mistake and looked down, realizing that we are about 100 feet in the air, with a very steep slope and jagged rocks below us. We are stopped for about 30 seconds, then jerk and start going again. At this point, I'm a little freaked out, but I can see the end of the ride is near, we should be there soon...BUT NO. It stops again, and the car swings and swings and the little girls start crying for their mothers and I ask the ski instructor, who should obviously be experienced with this ride, if this is normal--her eyes are wide as she replies "No, this is not normal at all". Alas, I did not plummet to my death, but for a while there, I thought that I might. (The ski area actually shut down the gondola just after we got off, and it ended up being closed the entire day.) I waited at the top for the rest of my friends, all who were equally as terrified as I was. After taking a break to regain our nerves and take in the most incredible view of mountains I have ever seen, we preceded to have on of the best days of boarding of my life. We spent very little time on actual trails and were exploring the woods with 3 feet of untouched powder almost all day long. There was even one bowl that we dropped into that had a "BEWARE OF AVALANCHE" warning sign that people had been ducking under all day--it was literally the most snow I've ever seen in one place...

We were having such a great time that we didn't even stop to have lunch--just got the best brautwurst I've ever eaten from a little trailer at the end of the day. Needless to say, the bus ride back was full of 40 very sleepy (and some very sunburned) people. I slept the entire way back!

Something I've Noticed

I've never really been part of the city life that is Vienna. Lakewood, Evergreen, or Walla Walla hardly qualify as metropolitan. Don't get me wrong, I've loved all the places I've lived--I would never trade it, but there's just something new and completely different about living in a big city. There's literally a never-ending list of things to do, places to see, or restaurants to try. Just last night I went to a movie in a fantastic sector of town I'd never seen before and it's within walking distance of my school. It's literally impossible to be bored. 

Two weeks ago, I was leaving a friend's house late on a Sunday night, and as I waited for the Strassenbahn (street car), I realized something very important that cities lack. There I was, standing on a completely abandoned street-corner, with absolutely no one around--no constant rumble of passing cars and trains, no loud chatter in a language I can barely understand, no jackhammer fixing the sidewalk, no one practicing opera for their next voice lesson or blaring away on the french horn (did I mention IES Vienna is pretty much a program for music majors?). That's when I realized I haven't heard this in over two months...complete silence. I mean, sure, it's quiet in our apartment at night, but that's different. Standing out on the street with nothing but a slight breeze rattling the tree behind me was a very calming experience. I realized that everywhere I've lived up to this point always has somewhere I can go and it is silent, and I think I've always taken that for granted. It makes me wonder what people that have always lived in a city do when they feel overwhelmed (do they ever feel that way?), because I've always just gone somewhere that's quiet and I can be alone. But here, there are people everywhere, cars everywhere. 

This moment of silence lasted maybe two minutes, then I heard the train rumbling down the tracks, even before I could see it turn the corner up the hill. I thought of a story a girl from camp told me a few summers ago. She was from the Summer Search program, meaning she had grown up in the city, and this was her first time out of it. She mentioned at one point that she had never heard silence before. I couldn't even imagine that then, but now I think I understand it a little better...

BUT! I still love Vienna, so don't worry. It was just something strange I realized--

Starting Saturday is our midterm week, so hopefully that will go okay. I've plans to go spend a few days in Prague on Wednesday. Last weekend I went snowboarding near Salzburg (ie where The Sound of Music took place), so I will have to fill you in on this. Perhaps tomorrow?