Big Rocks (aka New Year's Resolutions) - Part II

A month in the Enns Valley is just what I needed to gain some perspective.  2009 was a whirlwind of searching out job opportunities and trying to find a way to stay in Austria.  When that didn't work out, I spent the last few months of the year playing catch-up at LSU, teaching four (count 'em FOUR) courses and generally working nine to five.  All my writing projects and plans for getting back to Austria went on hold.

But I've had time in the last few days of 2009 to reconsider my goals.  Here are my "big rocks"

1) Follow-up on job opps in Austria (and search out new opps if current ones fall through)
2) Write something every day
3) Spend less frivolous time on the Internet
4) Be more focused
5) Live a healthier lifestyle

With those resolutions having been set in pixels, I assume that at the stroke of midnight I will become a serene and productive dervish (I'll be the one wearing pistachio!).

For a fascinating article on female dervishes, click the picture!

Christmas Renewal

My first job as a Christmas clerk in a garden center forever changed the way I look at Christmas in the U.S. Instead of the magical childhood memories of handmade sequined stockings hanging by the fireplace, listening to Ludwig Thoma's Heilige Nacht on Christmas Eve and snowy trips to grandma's house, Christmas retail is one of the deepest levels of hell.  From the non-stop electronic Christmas music to selling kittens and puppies of dubious origin, from the unreasonable demands of procrastinating customers to the kitsch, kitsch, kitsch, kitsch!

Christmas in rural Austria is a return to the magic of childhood.  Yes, there is a commercial aspect, but it ends exactly at 2:00 pm on Christmas Eve.  From that time on, Christmas is all about church and family.

Before mass at 5:30 pm, nearly everyone visits the cemetery to light candles on the graves of their loved ones.  Then the entire town proceeds to the church, not one by one, but as a whole community while a brass band plays a processional on the main square.

The (unheated!) church is ablaze with candles, even those decorating the Charlie Brown Christmas tree on the altar.  Christmas carols played by a Styrian trio float down from the balcony.  The air, thick with incense and pine, jingles with offerings well into the Communion liturgy. After being greeted, led in prayer, serenaded, absolved, blessed, and dismissed, the entire congregation meets outside on the street and disperses family by family to their individual Christmas dinners and gift exchanges.

After a hearty meal including all of the Austrian food groups (fried meat, potatoes, rice, and pumpkinseed oil), cherished gifts were given and received.  Then I enjoyed the close harmony of a family singing songs both sacred and profane, accompanied by piano, guitar, Bohemian bagpipes and zither.  When I walked home late that night, I reflected on the many wonderful gifts of God:  good health, dear friends, close family, air travel, music, high mountains, bright stars and the Son.

Big Rocks (aka New Year's Resolutions) - Part I

Do y'all know the Big Rocks parable?   A physics professor walks into class with a bucket full of big rocks.  He asks the students if the bucket is full.  They, of course, answer "yes."  Then he takes a bunch of pebbles, and pours them into the bucket, where the pebbles search out the spaces between the big rocks.  "Now is it full?"  he asks.  The class is a little more skeptical.  He then takes several handfuls of sand, which seek out the spaces between the big rocks and the pebbles.  "Is the bucket full now?" "No!" answers the class.  The professor pours in a gallon or so of water, filling in the spaces between the big rocks, pebbles and sand grains.

He then explained that there's always a way to fit more into a defined space, whether it's a bucket or the hours in a day.  But you can only fit it all in if you start with the big rocks.  If you start with sand and pebbles, the big rocks won't fit in -- no way, no how.

I hope you all have a chance to think about your Big Rocks in the next few days. Stop back here on New Year's Day and let me know what they are!

forsan et haec olim meminisse iuvabit

Between the last week of classes and my first final on December 8, I made a flying trip to Iowa.  Who does that?!?

It was a good trip.  Did some shopping, did some networking, but most of all I wanted to attend the memorial service for Roger Hornsby, my undergraduate advisor at the U of Iowa, who died in October. 

Roger Hornsby (second from left) and his wife, Jessie (center)
at St. Peter's Cathedral in Rome

Roger was a friend of the family long before he was my advisor.  That I ended up studying classics was complete chance, and I'm so glad I got the chance to learn Latin when I did.  Gerda Seligson, who co-wrote our textbook, Latin for Reading, was a visiting professor and she and Roger devised a way to teach Latin that made the transition from language learning to application less traumatic for students. The second year courses were taught by the same method as the elementary levels which allowed us to translate all four Catilinarian orations by Cicero in the third semester, and two or three books of Vergil's Aeneid in the fourth semester.  Unfortunately I can't convince my colleagues that this can be accomplished.

We students were introduced to all that academic life entailed, including elegant cocktail parties at the Hornsbys.  Their apartment was decorated with antique furniture and deep blue velvety carpet.  Jazz was always playing on the stereo, and caterers made sure the guests had enough wine and nibbly things.  This introduction to social graces is also something I've never experienced at any other university.

In addition to Latin, Roger taught a course entitled Concept of the City of Rome which provided background about Roman institutions.  I assisted him in the preparation of a corresponding art course, Concept of the City of Rome II:  Renaissance to Fascism, which he co-taught with Dr. John "Comments or Observations?" Scott.  A few of Roger's more promising students were invited to participate in Concept of the City of Rome III: On Location, an informal 10-day tour of Rome during which he and Dr. Scott showed us everything they thought students should see on their first trip to Rome.  This included many non-Roman churches and expensive restaurants.  I still remember eating at the foot of the Temple of the Sibyl in Tivoli where every table was "Reserved" until the guests passed the riff-raff test.  Never mind that Roger's laundry bill at his hotel cost as much as my entire stay in the Albergo Lago di Alleghe for the same amount of time!

Roger wanted all of his students to share his love of Latin literature, Roman culture, travel and the finer things in life.  Many of his students are happy to pass those lessons on!

Dasein ist köstlich...

Caution:  Amateur linguistics ahead!

Whenever a student wrestling with a Latin, Greek or German text says "I know what it means, I just can't translate it," my usual response is "bull-hockey."  But today I want to explain the title of my blog for my non-German speaking friends, and find that "I know what it means, but..."

The title of my blog is a quote from Austrian poet, Peter Rosegger.  It is hard to capture the meaning in English.  Dasein is an abstract noun formed by the verb sein ("to be, exist") and the adverb da, meaning "there" (it can also mean "here"). So dasein means something like "being there" or "living in the present."  Köstlich is also tricky.  It's an adjective used mostly for food; food that is köstlich is "tasty" or "delicious."  It can also mean "delightful" or "blissful."  However "To be there is delightful" loses something in translation.  For me it means "To enjoy life in a place you love with all five senses is the most wonderful thing in the world." 

Let me give you an example:  This morning I woke up in the Enns Valley, the place where I feel most at home in the world.  I arrived yesterday and have enjoyed the cold sting of  -18º Celsius and the warm embrace of friends welcoming me back; the taste of brioche with butter and Austrian cappuccino for breakfast in an old-style coffee house with its Christmasy green and red decor; the smell of roast chicken at a curbside stand and of smoky pubs; the sound of Stoansteirisch (the local dialect) and the mountain brook that bubbles past my door; the sight of the Grimming, Christmas lights in every little town square, the bus driver's smile, the frantic last-minute shopping at what passes for a mall around here.

The rest of the quote is easily translated:  man muss nur den Mut haben, sein eigenes Leben zu führen means "one must simply have the courage to live his own life" (with no apologies to those of you who have nothing better to do than to criticize the fact that common gender in English just happens to look like the masculine).  It's taken me many years to realize that I can make my own decisions even in the face of disapproval and there's been heartbreak along the way.  But I'm confident that everything in my life has happened just the way it was supposed to, and brought me to this place.  I'm actively pursuing my dreams, and right here, right now dasein ist köstlich!

Where the wild things are

Louisiana is famous for its wildlife, and since I live just a block or so away from the University Lakes, I see more than my fair share (not that I'm complaining!). I have to carry my camera wherever I go or I'll miss sights like this:

Do you think he's dreaming of being the Coca Cola Christmas truck?

 

This egret chose to dine on geckos at the LSU Law School!

I call this one "Cajun Christmas Tree" (with exclusive cormorments!)

Louisiana Heron (or are we calling it Tricolor Heron now?)

Massive Action Correspondence Day!

I am FINALLY done with grading (just in time for it to start all over again on Thursday).  But today I am taking a break to catch up on correspondence: all those thank you notes, "I'm thinking about you" cards, belated birthday greetings, and a few small packages that have been accumulating over the past few months.  I enjoy getting mail myself, and my P.O. Box has been quite empty recently.  Send me a postcard at P.O. Box 16294, Baton Rouge, LA  70893! I do take special requests, so if your mailbox has been empty too, send me your address in an email.

P.S. The Red Cross is running Holiday Mail for Heroes, so I'm including a link (www.redcross.org/holidaymail). Just watch the guidelines. I think they open all individual envelopes and scan for contraband, so cards, (up to 15 per sender) inscribed to "Dear Service Member, Family or Veteran," should be sent loose in a larger envelope. Do NOT send any personal information like an address or email address.

Ever have one of those days?

This picture pretty much defines what my life has been like the past couple of weeks.  NaNoWriMo has fallen by the wayside. Still digging myself out from the last avalanche of grading.  Sleep?  What's that?

On the bright side, I bought my ticket to Austria for Christmas (December 17-January 17!), I am taking this weekend to reassess priorities, and there were 100 pelicans flying over my apartment today!

For all the saints...

The beautiful flowers arrived at my office on Friday, a gift from my father.  The occasion?  My father sends me flowers every year on October 30 to commemorate my mother's birthday.  This year Mom would have turned eighty (she was born the day after the great stock market crash of 1929!)  Mom was an extremely talented and beautiful woman, artistically gifted with limitless creativity (who else would have dressed their kid up as Mighty Mouse for Halloween?!).  She wrote poetry and double acrostics (!) and made fried chicken and potato salad that people still rave about.  But she was also one of those highly versatile and accomplished people who can't live up to their own dreams and expectations, and she died in September 2000.  People tell me I inherited her creativity; I know I inherited her romantic view of the world.

Ave atque vale:  My mentor, Roger Hornsby, passed away last week. My relationship to Roger goes back many years, even before my birth. The silver Tiffany cup in the photo above was his present to me when I was born. Roger was a tremendous influence, not just academically.  He showed me Rome when I graduated from college and years later I showed him Vienna.  I last saw Roger in August, and he was still perusing the train time tables for Europe as his bedtime reading.  Those who knew him know that there was and will be no one like Roger Hornsby.

Also saying goodbye to Whiskey Widows:
Frances Paula Holliday
Dorothy "Dottie with the Body" Smith
and
Anna Kolder

Second time's a charm?

I just got my first NaNoWriMo pep talk email, which means National Novel Writing Month can't be far off! I seem to have gotten sidetracked last year. Perhaps my new routine will be more conducive to writing the 50,000 words necessary to produce a worthy novel(la)! Anyone else out there participating?

A day at Avery Island

After acres of sugarcane fields...a Zen Garden...

...complete with Buddha!

Tourists poking an alligator with a stick (sign didn't say "No Poking")...

Egrets content to eat fish...

A nice day to reflect!

Always look on the bright side of life

[Monty Python whistling here]

This week has been devoted to "defragmentation." With my heart in Austria, my body in Baton Rouge, my head somewhere in between, and my possessions strewn from Hell to breakfast, I was feeling pretty fragmented. This was counterproductive to my teaching, grading, correspondence, eating and sleeping habits. So last weekend I had a couple of indoor project days (Target shelving unit with about 300 pieces), this week I've been grading like a wild woman, and I finally managed to get to the OMV and insurance office. I now have a Louisiana Brown Pelican on my license plate! And I only had to pay about half the fees I expected :-)

The insurance visit was a fiasco. After 45 minutes the agent still wasn't finished processing my information and I had to excuse myself to teach class. I was so annoyed! But on the way home, I was driving along one of those beautiful live oak-lined boulevards in the Garden District and saw what I thought was a big pigeon drinking from a rain puddle in the middle of the street. Turns out that it was no pigeon, but a sharp-shinned hawk! Luckily I had my camera with me. Ta-da!

(I love that you can see strands of old blackened Mardi Gras beads from the St. Patrick's Day parade that goes through the neighborhood! Kind of makes up for the fact that you can't see his head.)

So I think there's a reason for everything! If the insurance agent hadn't kept me so long, I never would have seen this hawk at precisely the moment he was getting a drink! Pretty cool, huh? Share your "bright sides" in the comments!

Night of the Gecko

(A gecko looks a little like a transparent baby alligator)

My blogger friend over at An Extended Vacation has an anecdote about a gecko in the dishwasher which I thought I would follow up with a couple of my own gecko stories.

Gecko Tale #1: My first encounter with a Louisiana gecko (not to be confused with the charming anole) was a terrifying experience. I was looking for something under the kitchen sink when I moved one of those 2 quart Rubbermaid iced tea pitchers. A gecko had somehow managed to climb in, but because the sides were so high and slick, his little velcro paws couldn't get any purchase. Frustrated, Senor Gecko was running around in circles about 78 rpm around the bottom of the pitcher. I peered in to see what was causing all the fuss and saw this 4" translucent reptile with black buggy eyes and thought for sure it was a baby alligator! Like my friend at An Extended Vacation, I didn't go near the kitchen sink for weeks!

Gecko Tale #2: Getting ready for school one morning, I was looking for earrings in my jewelry box. I didn't have my glasses on, so I was Mr. Magoo'ing the offerings on the vanity when my eyes stopped on the lint roller about six inches from my face. The lint roller to which a gecko was stuck, and had been for some time! The gecko was still alive and allowed himself to be peeled off the sticky backing. We tried to rehydrate him with water, but whether he scampered off into the philodendron or was eaten by one of the local pigeons, we'll never know. Amusing in retrospect, but not at the time!

(Anoles, like chameleons, change color according to the environment)

On hot steamy nights like this one, you can count the geckos on the ceiling of any veranda Baton Rouge. Geckos and anoles are part of the Louisiana landscape. They eat bugs and are harmless... just as long as they stay outside where they belong!

Mozartgasse 13

The past few months, as I've moved from Austria to Iowa to Louisiana, it's been difficult for me to define "home." After living like a guest in other people's houses for two years, surrounded by their furniture, sleeping on their bed linens, and using their pots and pans, I forgot what it was like to be truly on my own. I've been in my own place for three weeks now, and until this weekend I was still feeling displaced.

They say that home is where the heart is, and I feel most at home in Steiermark, the Green Heart of Austria. "Green" refers to the 58% uncultivated woodlands, but it also means a healthy lifestyle with affordable organic food and an emphasis on nature and the outdoors, and people who live lightly on the earth. As I was lamenting my return to Louisiana, my friends all asked me "Can't you create a little Austria in Baton Rouge?" Thanks to them, I've come to realize that home isn't just a physical address, it is a state of mind.


When I left the Enns Valley, friends Anita and Raimund gave me an Austrian house number, a substantial piece of red and white enameled tin, reminiscent of the Austrian flag. Since July 20, the first thing I've done when I've moved into a new place, however temporary, is hang this sign in a prominent location. It doesn't matter what physical location I'm in, I live at Mozartgasse 13.


The people who've visited seem to like it here. :-)

Another photo-inspired contest

Check out my friend Angie's Short & Sweet Book Title contest. The contest runs through midnight, October 4, and she offers a choice of prizes for the winner. Even if you don't submit something, the entries so far are very entertaining! Tell her I sent you in the comments!

Whiskey and Funerals

We buried Ms. Dottie last week... for those of you in the know, that's "Dottie with the Body." Dottie was a member of the Whiskey Widows, a select group of elderly women who lived in my old apartment complex. Ms. Dottie always introduced herself as "Hi, I'm Dottie... with the Body." Of course, she didn't introduce herself to me that way, but rather to the attractive young man who was helping me move in. Dottie was a bit of a flirt :-)

When I first arrived, I was greeted by a neighbor who said, "We have cocktails every day at 5:00 pm at Ms. Verone's. You have a standing invitation to join us." Ms. Verone was the widow of the lieutenant governor under Earl K. Long. She was in her mid-80s and owing to a bum knee, she was virtually confined to her apartment (except when she ventured out in her indestructible Lincoln Town Car). Her social life was the cocktail hour, and she entertained us with stories of Louisiana politics, and fed us appetizers like olive cheese balls* and shrimp salad. On LSU game day, there was always a crowd at Ms. Verone's.

Carolyn, Dottie, Frances, Jerry, Sue, Nancy, Fred

For every Whiskey Widow there's a story: Ms. Frances was the daughter of a publisher and taught in the Baton Rouge schools even though she didn't need the money. She owned half a condo on the corner of Esplanade and Bourbon Street in New Orleans. She was very generous with the key, and I stayed there at least twice. Ms. Doris was the secretary for five Louisiana governors, including Jimmie Davis (who wrote "You are my Sunshine"). Sue B. also worked for the Baton Rouge schools trying to make a difference. There are two Ms. Margarets and a BeBe, and a number of us who just like to be inspired by these phenomenal women.

Because of their advanced age, the Whiskey Widows are becoming rarer and rarer. Verone died in 2005, the weekend of Hurricane Rita. Sue B. and I crashed her funeral (a long, sad story, best saved for another time). Ms. Frances died this past summer. And now Dottie... with the Body.

Contrary to their moniker, the Whiskey Widows prefer vodka martinis with a green cocktail tomato. Drink one this weekend in their honor, and to the health of those remaining!

Joey and Dottie

* Verone's Olive Cheese Balls:

½ lb. cheddar cheese, shredded
1 stick butter, chilled and shredded
1 ½ cups flour
cayenne pepper
worcestershire sauce
Jar of pimiento-stuffed olives

Combine the shredded cheddar cheese, the cold shredded butter, flour and cayenne pepper to taste. Prepare as for a pastry dough/pie crust, adding just enough worcestershire sauce to hold the mixture together. Wrap individual olives in the dough about an 1/8 of an inch thick. Bake at 400 degrees for 15 minutes. TIP: These freeze well and can be reheated!

Movin' on up...

This past weekend I moved into my own one bedroom apartment within walking distance of my office on the LSU campus. It's also within walking distance of the University Lakes. How cool is that?!

This is the third time I've moved in two months. First I had to pack up everything in Austria, leaving behind what I wouldn't need in Louisiana (sweaters, ski pants, winter coat, Eisstock) and I moved to Iowa for a month. Then I repacked all my belongings and moved to Baton Rouge, where I lived with very kind and generous friends for a month. Now I'm in a penthouse apartment (read: third floor) thanks to help of Expert Moving of Baton Rouge – I highly recommend them! I've learned much about myself during this move. When I moved everything into storage two years ago, I thought I really downsized. Looking at the mountain of boxes in the front room, I have no idea where I got all this stuff, what I did with it for all those years, and what the hell I'm going to do with it now. Most of it is books or kitchen supplies, which is I suppose natural for an academic whose hobby is cooking. What surprised me though is what I got rid of... I gave away my favorite bookshelf, which means I'm going to have to get another wall unit (for all the books in all those boxes). And things that I missed when I was in Austria (like a hubby, i.e. backrest for reading in bed) I evidently tossed. And I'm still missing a box of mixing bowls and measuring cups...

Well, back to unpacking. If anyone needs a set of Rosepoint crystal or books by Thucydides, let me know.

Assignment - Labor Day!

For all my writer friends out there, here's a challenge! Select one of the photos below and use it as inspiration for a poem, or short story, or character sketch that you write over the Labor Day weekend. I'd love to read what you write (pocketjoey@gmail.com). And feel free to pass along the challenge. Who knows? I might be able to come up with some sort of reward for your LABOR!

Katrina Anniversary

Last year, as Hurricane Gustav was bearing down on the Louisiana coast, I set down my thoughts about Hurricane Katrina, which happened four years ago today. For those who missed it, here are links to my Reflections on Katrina.

Read PART 1
Read PART 2
Read PART 3

Still as real and as surreal as it was on August 29, 2005.

Meanwhile, back at LSU...

Today was the first day of classes at LSU. I left the house at 6:50 am, and arrived home at 6:10 pm. NOT my idea of fun! This is because my schedule has me teaching at 10:40 every day and until 4:30 every day except Fridays (when I get to leave at 3:30, woo hoo!) I will miss having Fridays off, but then, I don't have Mr. Scheer to arrange my schedule like he did for the last two years :-)

I've already met three of my classes and the biggest challenge so far seems to be Moodle, the online course "assistant" which would be fired if it was a human being. No one I've talked to likes it, neither faculty nor students. Oh, for the days of Semester Book!

I hope to be signing a lease tomorrow for an apartment on the LSU busline, so this traffic/parking nightmare will soon be a thing of the past!

It's not the heat, it's the humidity

It's no secret that I despise Louisiana weather. Baton Rouge has a single forecast for July, August, and September: Low - 74ºF (23ºC), High - 93ºF (34ºC), thunderstorm between 3:00 and 4:00 pm. The only time it is bearable is between 7:30 and 8:30 in the morning, when the sun starts to burn off some of the morning humidity and the heat of the day hasn't hit yet. The humidity is usually as high as it can be for the temperature which makes the summers unbearable and the winters bone-chillingly cold. The best time to visit is in March/April, when there are also fresh Louisiana strawberries (!).

The thing I hate most about the humidity is the effect it has on my hair. And so I got a Louisiana friendly 'do -- don't be shocked when you see me on campus!

There is one advantage: most women look at least 10-15 youngers because the high humidity is good for the skin!

No photos allowed...

Yesterday in my continuing hunt for decent living quarters, I was required to obtain my own background check for an apartment complex. One used to go downtown to the Baton Rouge Police Station to do this. Now it seems you have to go out to EBRPP, the East Baton Rouge Parish Prison, a low building surrounded by bail bond companies across from the Baton Rouge Metro Airport, where the gravel parking area was full of potholes, puddles and people just hanging around waiting for rides.

I checked in at the guard post and told the rather jovial deputy there that I needed a criminal background check on myself. "Why?" he asked, with just a hint of a smile. "Are you a criminal?" He continued his joking manner when I presented my Iowa driver's license as proof of ID. "Oh, well, IOWA... now that's a different matter altogether." He sent me back to my car, because you are permitted to take only your car keys, a photo ID and cash into the prison. Anything else is considered contraband. When I returned from stowing my purse and other belongings in the trunk (after all there were lots of people hanging around the parking lot waiting for rides), I entered the prison. I passed through security and proceeded to a rather large, minimally air-conditioned room to wait for my background check.

About 20 people were waiting, and I thought "This is going to take forever." Baton Rouge is about 60% black so I wasn't surprised that there were only four white people in the waiting room. Most of the people waiting were overweight moms with kids ranging from babes in arms to about seven. The boys without exception were wearing Nike Air Jordan athletic shoes, and the moms were wearing Payless specials. One little boy about three had his hair in cornrows and looked like he'd grow up to play football for LSU. A little girl was still wearing her school uniform and had multiple ponytails with lots of color coordinated bows.

So we're waiting and there's strangely very little conversation. I shared a lot of smiles with the young mothers and their carefree children. Then the deputy from the guard post came in and read off a list of names. After each name, a woman and her family would stand up and follow the prison guard out into the courtyard. Only then did I realize these folks were not here for their criminal background check as I was. They were there to visit their brothers/boyfriends/husbands/loved ones in prison. A half hour later they returned, some with eyes red with tears.

In the meantime, the people who worked behind the presumably bullet-proof glass of the bonding and criminal background check office were suffering as much as we were, and a janitor brought each one of them a long sheet of paper towel to wipe their sweaty brows. Eventually I got the official document showing that I have a clean criminal record (at least in Louisiana!) and left the prison just in time for the three o'clock thunderstorm. The ubiquitous deputy offered to escort me back to the guard post under his big green umbrella, which was useless against the pelting rain. By the time I reached my car I was soaking wet. But the impressions of the day cannot so easily be washed away.

Tell me a story...

When I set off to Austria in September 2007, I wanted to accomplish three things:

1) improve my German
2) discover if I could actually "live" in Austria
3) figure out what I want to be when I grow up

The easiest decision was #3. After a month or so of doing academic research, I realized that I don't need to be a professor at a high-powered research university to be happy. I'd much rather stand before a class of students and tell stories, and if that doesn't earn me the big bucks, well, I've proven that I can live comfortably on less than €1000 a month ($1300-1400 depending on the exchange rate). While I don't want to do academic research, I do want to write. So when I'm not at school I will be working on stories that have rattled around in my brain for far too long.

Integrating into the culture (#2) depends a lot on communication (#1). The first year in Austria all of my friends were either native English speakers, teachers of English, or people in the Enns Valley who spoke dialect nearly exclusively. It was frustrating to understand only 40% of the conversation.

What a difference a year makes! The adult English classes in Aigen gave me a chance to get to know people my own age who understood that communicating in a foreign language is difficult. I helped them with their English, and they helped me improve my German (or at least my Stoansteirisch!) I no longer sit silently in the corner because I can't follow the conversation. In fact, I might even tell a story or two!

Biscuits for Breakfast!

Will y' look at dem dere biscuits?!

Until I find an apartment I'm staying with dear friends in the Baton Rouge area. Yesterday morning I woke up to fresh, flakey southern-made biscuits, which we ate with homemade apricot jam -- from Vienna! I guess that's what you'd call a cross-continental breakfast!!

SHIFTING GEARS

"Toto, I have a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore."

No, Toto, we're in Baton Rouge, Looziana. And the intended blog audience (blog-ience?) has shifted from my friends and family in the States to my friends and "family" in Austria. Still providing cross-cultural insights and hoping to entertain with pictures and stories, but now focusing on life on the Mississippi (with apologies to Mark Twain).

How I ended up back in Baton Rouge is an epic tale, as twisted as Austrian bureaucracy. Suffice it to say that my visa ran out and I returned to Iowa in July. Luckily, LSU had generously granted me a two-year leave of absence so I had a job to come back to in the middle of an economic crisis. I drove to Louisiana this past week in a newly acquired 2005 Chevy Cobalt, and am currently gearing up for the fall semester which starts August 24.

Because I don't want to lose contact with anyone, I've updated my email, Skype, Facebook, cell phone at right. As for my address, I can send you my Post Office Box number on request!

Good to see all my friends again, and I'm counting the days until Christmas break!

Update coming soon...

All about what I learned during my two years in Austria, my return to the land of round doorknobs, and buying a car that will take me to Louisiana next week!

Happy Father's Day!

Joey and DoD's EXCELLENT Adventure
(in about 50 Words Per Day!)

May 26: The adventure begins! Party at Stainach for Joey's last day (with champagne between classes!). Arrived in Bavaria for dinner at Haus Brannenburg and planned to spend the evening on the balcony relaxing. Dramatic windstorm -- went to bed as soon as the drama could no longer be seen from my window!

May 27: Joey up before 6:00 – walked 25 minutes in the rain to train station. Met DoD on time at Munich airport – relief! Rented Mercedes (!) from EuropCar after Budget lost reservation. Drove to Brannenburg. Ate lunch, walked into town, had coffee, took pictures, walked back to hotel, ate dinner. Admired the view!

May 28: A gray day. Breakfast, then off to Rottach-Egern am Tegernsee where authors Ludwig Thoma and Ludwig Ganghofer lived and are buried. Made pilgrimage to Thoma house, now a private home. Lunch, then on to the Ennstal! DoD safely ensconced in Glitschnerhof – a working farm. Soup and salad at Im Dörfl.

May 29: Early sun. Coffee in Aigen. Spent the morning in Pürgg visiting church and chapel with 11th-13th c. frescoes – Beautiful, but cold and windy! Lunch in Aigen after rain began. Joey tutored some folks in English, then her friends joined us for dinner at Im Dörfl, a 19th c. style inn.


May 30: Another gray day. Coffee in Aigen. Early start to author Peter Rosegger's stomping grounds. Lunch in Krieglach. Curator of country house remembered us from four years ago. Rainy and cold visit to the church and cemetery in St. Kathrein. Lots of slugs! Fabulous dinner in Alpl. Slept with the heat on!













May 31: 35º F! Climbed 1.8 km (600 m!) to Rosegger's birthplace; sun burned off lingering fog. Visited Rosegger school. Paid respects at Rosegger's grave. Returned to Ennstal, ate ice cream. Walked around Putterer Lake. Saw ruins of St. Aegydius church. Drove Mercedes on cowpath high above Donnersbach in vain search for food.

June 1: Rain in the morning. Coffee in Aigen. Friend Brigitte led tour through Trautenfels Palace – natural and social history of Ennstal in one cool building! Special exhibit on birds. Lunch at fish restaurant. Coffee with friend Sigi in Irdning. Dinner in Pürgg at Krenn, a very cosy inn with a view!

June 2: Our day in Admont, which boasts the largest monastery library in the world. Adding to the newly refurbished library frescoes, goldleaf and sculptures, is a special exhibition of manuscripts, some dating to the 11th century. Back to Irdning so Joey could tutor, then dinner at the fish restaurant with colleague Bernhard.

June 3: Visited Joey's school and met her colleagues. Joey tutored until 1:00 pm. Lunch in Stainach. Drove to Bad Aussee, the geographical center of Austria,marked with a giant Mercedes symbol. DoD bought Austrian jacket. Then to Wörschach where we toured the Wolkenstein ruins with Sigi. Dinner in Wörschach, house platter for three!









June 4: Late start. Leisurely coffee in Stainach. Visited Joey's school again. Friend and colleague Ingrid led us on a car chase to Öblarn where we met friend and colleague Theresia and husband for lunch, followed by a private tour of author Paula Grogger's house. Coffee at Ingrid's. Fabulous dinner at Brigitte's.

June 5: Bad Ischl – toured imperial gardens, ate at Zauner Restaurant AND Zauner cafe, which existed at Franz Josef's time. Paid homage to Franz Lehar at his former villa. Dinner at the Knödelalm with Irene and Rob. Dumplings filled with cracklins or spinach as entree, and with jam or chocolate for dessert!

June 6: Left Glitschnerhof mid-morning and set off to Radstadt in search of Roman milestones – which we missed :-( Had great lunch in Radstadt then drove to Munich to drop off Mercedes. Ate at sketchy inn where the proprietor looked like Mr. Allnut from the African Queen. Overnight accommodations in Schwaig.

June 7: Dawn broke at about 4:30 am. Joey escorted DoD to airport at 7:00 am and poured him onto the plane. Joey proceeded to Ennstal, and further to Salzkammergut where she attended a rehearsal of IRISHSteirisch and embarked on a short Austrian journalism career. Dad arrived safely in Moline at 5:05 CDT.

DoD,

Herzlichen Dank

für die wunderschönen Tage im Ennstal!

Alles liebe, Joey