A brief break from travelling followed, as I began to settle in Vienna. This settling was aided by meeting tandem partners, discovering (and laughing at) some Austrian traditions, and, not to forget our roots, celebrating a British one.
To be fair, the "British" tradition was Pancake Day, which is actually celebrated across Europe, but it was still something familiar, and yet nothing like any other Pancake Day that I've ever experienced. I celebrated it last year in my student house, but the difference then was that my housemates actually knew how to cook. In contrast, this year I was the only one out of the three of us who knew how to make pancakes, and that was only thanks to a frantic Skype call to my mother. Still we managed to create batter (with normal eggs rather than the coloured hard-boiled ones which Christina had opted for), and get it into two frying pans, which Christina and I were put in charge of. So far so good.
Or perhaps not. My first pancake was successful, but while making my second I got distracted, and the next thing I knew the hob was covered in batter. Trying to save her kitchen, Hannah tried to mop up the mess, but unfortunately just ended up setting fire to the kitchen towel she was using to wipe away the batter. Pancake Fail #1. I was then relegated to photo duty (and cutting up phallic banana duty), but was quickly invited back to the stove when Hannah's efforts to create a pancake resulted in Fail Pancake. She swears it was delicious, Christina and I were doubtful.
Once we were done pretending to be domestic, we settled down to watch Eurotrip. And just in case the ridiculous European stereotypes weren't enough, we decided to drink every time one appeared. Thus it was that the next morning I lay in bed for ten minutes thinking "hmmmmm, loud noise," before realising that it was in fact my alarm clock, and I was meant to be at work.
This didn't faze me, and the next night I was out again to celebrate my flatmate passing her university Master exams. In Austria, most degrees finish with a thirty minute oral exam (regardless of the subject), which can be arranged for any time that suits you and the professor examining you, hence the fact that she was finishing at the beginning of the semester. The celebrations began in a bar on the university campus, and later moved on to a 'Wunderbar' (apparently one of many across Vienna) - by the end of the night I was wishing I'd had more that 4 hours' sleep in the past 48 hours, but it was a good night.
I also spent the next three nights socialising: meeting my flatmate's boyfriend (whose room I'm renting, so I probably should have tidied it before he arrived) and celebrating the beginning of my flatmate's birthday at midnight with Sekt (the Austrian answer to champagne) and a 'birthday crown', meeting a fat blonde man in short and a Von Trapp hat at a CouchSurfing meeting who introduced himself as Hans (Oh GOD the stereotypes!), and swapping coats with Christina on the way home from a night out because it seemed like a good idea at the time. Good job I didn't give up alcohol for Lent!
And, finally, there was the Austrian culture. For this was the one week of the year in which Lederhosen and Dirndls were sold in Hofer (the supermarket which we in the UK know as Aldi). For those who don't know, these are the national costume of Austria (and also of Bavaria) and they look like this:
To be fair, the "British" tradition was Pancake Day, which is actually celebrated across Europe, but it was still something familiar, and yet nothing like any other Pancake Day that I've ever experienced. I celebrated it last year in my student house, but the difference then was that my housemates actually knew how to cook. In contrast, this year I was the only one out of the three of us who knew how to make pancakes, and that was only thanks to a frantic Skype call to my mother. Still we managed to create batter (with normal eggs rather than the coloured hard-boiled ones which Christina had opted for), and get it into two frying pans, which Christina and I were put in charge of. So far so good.
Or perhaps not. My first pancake was successful, but while making my second I got distracted, and the next thing I knew the hob was covered in batter. Trying to save her kitchen, Hannah tried to mop up the mess, but unfortunately just ended up setting fire to the kitchen towel she was using to wipe away the batter. Pancake Fail #1. I was then relegated to photo duty (and cutting up phallic banana duty), but was quickly invited back to the stove when Hannah's efforts to create a pancake resulted in Fail Pancake. She swears it was delicious, Christina and I were doubtful.
Once we were done pretending to be domestic, we settled down to watch Eurotrip. And just in case the ridiculous European stereotypes weren't enough, we decided to drink every time one appeared. Thus it was that the next morning I lay in bed for ten minutes thinking "hmmmmm, loud noise," before realising that it was in fact my alarm clock, and I was meant to be at work.
This didn't faze me, and the next night I was out again to celebrate my flatmate passing her university Master exams. In Austria, most degrees finish with a thirty minute oral exam (regardless of the subject), which can be arranged for any time that suits you and the professor examining you, hence the fact that she was finishing at the beginning of the semester. The celebrations began in a bar on the university campus, and later moved on to a 'Wunderbar' (apparently one of many across Vienna) - by the end of the night I was wishing I'd had more that 4 hours' sleep in the past 48 hours, but it was a good night.
I also spent the next three nights socialising: meeting my flatmate's boyfriend (whose room I'm renting, so I probably should have tidied it before he arrived) and celebrating the beginning of my flatmate's birthday at midnight with Sekt (the Austrian answer to champagne) and a 'birthday crown', meeting a fat blonde man in short and a Von Trapp hat at a CouchSurfing meeting who introduced himself as Hans (Oh GOD the stereotypes!), and swapping coats with Christina on the way home from a night out because it seemed like a good idea at the time. Good job I didn't give up alcohol for Lent!
And, finally, there was the Austrian culture. For this was the one week of the year in which Lederhosen and Dirndls were sold in Hofer (the supermarket which we in the UK know as Aldi). For those who don't know, these are the national costume of Austria (and also of Bavaria) and they look like this:
Innocently trying to buy energy drink, the sight of a rack of these outfits was nearly the death of Christina and I. It didn't help that the woman queuing in front of us was buying a dirndl apron. Or that when I told my flatmate about our 'experience', her boyfriend interjected to inform me that his sisters had two dirndls each - one for Sundays and one for weddings. Apparently I'm in the minority in finding them hilarious...
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