Stephansdom

I went to Mass here this morning! I am not really sure what else one is supposed to say about going to church in a very old cathedral. It was solemn and majestic and a little cold and everything was very, very old and beautiful.

I am really lucky because I get off the U-Bahn at Stephansplatz every morning for school, so I get to walk by the cathedral almost every day. It's under construction right now, but there are still always a million people there craning their necks up and taking pictures of it.

Since it is such a tourist spot, there are always street performers and people selling things there. There are also these wonderful/ridiculous Mozart impersonators who hand out concert fliers every day. They are weird, though mostly harmless; nevertheless, we have been warned to avoid eye contact and not to answer any of their questions. I had been doing such a good job...

This is when my story takes a quick detour. Maybe everyone already knows this because they know Vienna is a big city, and maybe I am just displaying my (charming) Midwestern naivete, but I was really disappointed to find that no one smiles here. No one! In fact, we were told not to smile at large gaggles of young, adorable men at the risk of presenting ourselves as a little too interesting in... "making friends." Needless to say, for the girl who will say hi to just about anyone and even apologizes when she bumps into trash cans, this anti-smiling thing has been quite the exercise in restraint.

Anyway, I had been making great strides in perfecting my icy-cool and oh-so-bored Euro Stare this week. In fact, I even had the please-move-your-picture-taking-touristy-self-so-I-can-continue-to-strut-my-skinny-jeaned-and-leather-booted-self-to-school-like-a-pro down pat. You would have been impressed.

But back to my story. I was so good at this new 'tude (okay, fine. I was actually so very late to class, but that's not important) that I found myself totally able to brush past the Mozart impersonators without so much as a flinch on Friday morning. I kept my eyes fixed and kept strutting as Mozart #8 tried out his various languages. "Sprechen Sie Deutsch? What language do you speak? Are you from England, or U.S.A.? S'il vous plaît? Oh, you're not going to talk, are you?" He made giant puppydog eyes and stretched out his hands.

And then I cracked. I had to smile! An old man with tights, a cape, and a powdered wig was trying--desperately-- to guilt me into taking his dumb flier in the middle of Stephansplatz, Vienna, Austria. I don't care who you are, that's funny. "Sorry!" I said. "I'm going to be late!"

I pretty much forgot about the incident until I was on my way home much later that evening. As I was crossing Stephansplatz again, dodging Asian tourists and those terrifying "painted statues" right and left, I heard a familiar voice. "You again!" It was, of course, Mozart #8.

Now a normal person would probably just keep walking, and maybe even an exceptionally nice normal person would give a small smile or say "Hello there" and go on his or her merry way. You may not have realized this yet (ha), but I am not a normal person, or even an exceptionally nice normal person. Rather, I seem to be affected by an unhealthy amount of social guilt and an inordinate desire to be friends with people.

Therefore, I decided I needed to not only (1) say hello, but also to (2) approach Mozart #8, (3) apologize for being so aloof that morning, (4) ask him how his day was going, (5) discuss the deliciousness of hazelnut spread, and (6) exchange life stories. Seriously. Turns out he's been to Kansas, likes Midwesterners, and likes his job because he gets to go to free concerts and be outside a lot. Who knew?

I really wanted to end this post with a great quote or something really insightful on the nature of city life or the mysteriousness of human connection, but I'm drawing a blank. Sorry. How about one last look at Stephansplatz?