Sasha Fierce Fools The Wieners

As the Week Of Excessive Blog Posts continues (funny how it corresponds with Finals Week, huh), I thought I would share with you this little gem.

Remember how I told you Beyonce was here?  And I was really sad I didn't get to go?  Well, post-concert, I've been assuaging the Beyonce-shaped hole in my heart by ripping out pictures of her concert from the free newspapers from the train station.  That's when I came across this article.  I thought you might enjoy it.

While the real Beyoncé was in Vienna, Austria as part of her Sasha Fierce World Tour, a local radio station accompanied an imposter look-alike around Vienna on Tuesday as an experiment to see how people would act when in the close presence of the superstar.

A prankster from Krona Hit Radio called The Albertina Museum to announce that they would be soon receiving a very famous visitor. Workers at the museum said that half an hour later a limousine drove up, and a woman in wraparound sunglasses emerged surrounded by five beefy bodyguards. Screaming fans were also present.

According to Museum spokesperson Verena Dahlitz, other celebrities like Nicolas Cage and Brad Pitt have visited there, so they weren’t entirely taken by surprise at having a celebrity guest. Dahlitz said she had her doubts that the person who got out of the limo was the real Beyoncé, saying that she was too thin and lacked the real singer’s curvy figure. Also, she never took off her sunglasses, avoided eye contact, and “acted strangely.”

During all the commotion at the museum, the real Beyoncé was spotted elsewhere in town. She was shopping at a nearby H&M clothing store.

A few points here.  

1.  Hahahahhaah.

2.  Beyonce shops at H&M.  I shop at H&M.  We're basically fashion soulmates.  (It's good to see someone else is keeping the sweatshops alive and kickin, too.)

3.  Really?  Really?  I title the following picture: "I Could Have Almost Certainly Done A Better Beyonce Impression."

That's just embarrassing.

Finders Keepers

The past few weeks have been kind of like a big treasure hunt in Vienna. Now that I'm used to the city and I don't have to walk around with my mouth hanging open and my neck craned so I can see all the beautiful buildings and fancy statues, I've been finding all sorts of wonderful little surprises. A few of my favorites:

Enjoying the fact that I no longer have to bundle up like an Eskimo to leave the house, one morning I took a long long walk around my neighborhood.  I found all these cute little storefronts and apartments... here's one of my favorites:

To be completely honest, this next one isn't so much a "find" as a... um, "borrow."  There are all these signs posted around Vienna advertising the Beyonce concert that was last weekend.  (Somehow I couldn't manage to scrounge up the ONE HUNDRED FORTY SEVEN EUROS for a ticket.)  I coveted the lovely fluorescent signs for weeks.  Then, one morning as I walked to school, I saw one flopping around helplessly from the post... so with a surreptitious look around me and a quick yank, I saved it from its misery and stuffed it in my bag.  Now it proudly decorates my wall:

Then, one day on my way to my internship, I took a different tram than usual, and ran across this gem:

Here's my favorite one.  One night we had searched out a new place to dance but had been pretty unsuccessful.  Empty dance floors, bad music, creepy creepers, the works.  So we were on our way to the gelato stand (where else?) to cheer ourselves up when we came across this little guy on the ground!

I'm in love, I'm in love, and I don't care who knows it!

Small Victories

Okay, so I don't know how many of you know this about me, but I am terrified of copy shops. T-E-R-R-I-F-I-E-D. There's something about the fact that you can choose for your picture to be in color or not or six times larger or seventy-one percent smaller or formatted horizontally or printed on vellum that makes me just shake in my shoes the second I darken the doorway of a Kinko's. Plus, everyone is looking at you and you have to act like you know what you're doing, and the worst part is, if you mess up, you still have to pay for it! I simply dread. making. copies.

Anyway, all of this is to say that I have an Art Analysis paper due this week which requires me to supply a color copy of the piece I'm studying. IES does not have a color printer. There is, however, a copy place right around the corner.

Imagine the dread with which I set foot in the doorway! Not only did I have to learn how to figure out how to use one of the massive machines-- with ridiculous paper formats, no less-- I had to do it all in German.

But guess what, guys? I did it! I did it! I made a lovely color copy, swiped my copy card, paid the copy lady, taped my picture onto my paper, and stapled the sucker. And then, elated, I went home and wrote a blog about it. I hope you are all very proud of me and are glad I tell you such exciting stories about life abroad.

(Please expect almost daily blog updates-- with subjects surely as enthralling as this one-- as I hone my procrastination skills. WOOOOO FINALS WEEK!)

Here Is How I Feel About Austria

Whitney Almost Spends The Rest Of Her Life In Hungarian Prison

To clear up any worries, the title of this blog post includes the word "Almost."  I am not, in fact, typing this blog entry from a dirty Hungarian prison cell that I share with a toothless drug dealer named Angyalka.  Thank goodness.  But it was a close call.

(And lest you think the following episode made me dislike Hungary, it's just not true.  I had a lovely time, and we looked at castles and parks and statues and giant sand timers, and we ate bread and cheese and apples and played with dogs and fell asleep in the park.  It was truly fantastic.  My camera battery also died, but I took twelve pictures!)

Baaaaasically, here's the story.  We spent the weekend in Budapest and were getting ready to schlep ourselves to the train station to go back to Vienna on Sunday night, but our 24-hour transportation passes had expired about an hour earlier.  So we found the nearest ticket machine, bought one-way tickets, and took the subway to the train station.  We were kind of surprised that no one checked our tickets before we got on the train (there's usually someone at the entrance to the subway station), but we didn't think much of it.  

Before I continue, let me tell you a little something about the subway stations.  They are really, really, really low underground (the Hungarians being understandably paranoid about nuclear bomb attacks when they were building them), so the escalators have to be really long.  They are also incredibly steep and incredibly fast-- riding them is slightly terrifying.  I am always scared that I am going to misstep on the first step and tumble all the way down to the bottom, or fall backwards from the top and cause a domino-effect disaster of epic proportions.  Only adding to the sense of vertigo is the posters, which are posted sideways on the wall.  Plus, the escalators are brown, loud, and smell like Communism.  

So imagine my surprise when I found out that, after this terrifying escalator ride, there were still trials left to endure.  Turns out, the clever little Hungarians like to issue surprise attacks at the top of the escalators.  When we finally got to the top of the massive beast, there was a line of about four Official Train Ticket Checker People doing what they do best.  I, naturally, showed my (completely legitimate, purchased, and non-expired) ticket to one such Checker Person and went on my merry way.  Well, I tried to go on my merry way.  

"Honknknfnyz!" he said in his scariest Hungarian accent, frowning and holding out his hand in the international sign for "STOP OR I WILL THROW YOU TO THE GROUND."  "Prhhynnra!  Oxnyghyh fihkl marhphhrwek."  

"Um," I responded.

"Kzkzkkzkzsszzskks!  Kduiuhfhkfkllk flkjrij pqowjjjrij, fljyzyloffhhf qoppkplk marhhhfrphwlk!" he growled.

There are simply not enough vowels in the Hungarian language.  "English?" I whimpered.  

"YOUR TICKET MUST HAVE VALIDATION WITH VALIDATION MACHINE!" he barked.

"Oh, I'm really sorry, I wasn't aware," I said.  "I just bought this, though."

He was obviously sympathetic to my excuse.  "IN ENGLISH AND HUNGARIAN THE DIRECTIONS ARE CLEARLY MARKED!" (Editor's Comment: Not true.)

"We must have not seen the validation machines," I said.  "I'm sorry."  

"IN ENGLISH AND HUNGARIAN THE DIRECTIONS ARE CLEARLY MARKED.  FINE OF SIX THOUSAND FORINTS!"  (This actually sounds a lot more hardcore and expensive than it really is.  6000 Ft is like 20 Euros.  But still!)

"Well, can I--"

"ENGLISH AND HUNGARIAN. CLEARLY. MARKED.  SIX THOUSAND FORINTS."

I was obviously pretty close to arguing my way out of this one.  Seriously, though, I tried everything.  I made puppy eyes.  I showed him our 24-hour pass.  I made my lower lip tremble.  I showed him the date and time of purchase of our most recent ticket.  I blinked rapidly.  I told him we were about to leave his godforsaken country and he should just let us go in peace.  I apologized multiple times.  I sighed sadly.  I finally told him that I had just exchanged all of my Hungarian money for Euros and I simply couldn't pay him.

Hungarian Official Train Ticket Checker People, conveniently, take Euros.  

Just in case you guys want a picture of my Potdijelismerveny (no, really):

I'm Addicted to Krak-ow (and Bad at Naming Blog Posts, Sorry)

So!  How about the last leg of our Spring Break adventure?  

Let me just tell you something about Krakow.  There are Catholics, Catholics,  E-V-E-R-Y-W-H-E-R-E.  Everywhere!  I mean, I guess if your city produces one of the greatest popes the world has ever seen, you might be tempted to join the club, too.   

On Saturday night, we wandered around the city center and probably came across ten different churches within a few blocks of each other.  The coolest part, though, is that they were positively bursting with people there to celebrate the Easter Vigil.  We stopped and watched a few different congregations as they lit the Paschal candle outside and processed back into their churches.

But if we thought that Saturday night was super-Catholic... well, we just didn't know what was in store on Easter.  First we woke up bright and early to attend morning Mass at the cathedral where John Paul II had been bishop before becoming Pope.  

Then back to the roots... we spent part of the afternoon wandering around the Jewish quarter and visiting one of the old Jewish cemeteries.

And finally, when we thought that nothing more beautiful or magical could happen... well.  We were proven wrong in the most wonderful way possible.  

As we strolled around a little park, we heard music and naturally gravitated towards it.  We finally found ourselves in a little church courtyard full of darling Polish families dancing and singing along with a band.  Imagine my excitement when I saw two really cute nuns dancing with a little girl!  But as we ventured closer to the band, I realized that this was even better than I could have imagined.  The sweet rock band on a platform in the middle of this courtyard-- complete with electric guitars, rockin' bongos, a hardcore drummer, and a recorder player, for heaven's sake-- was completely composed of monks.  Monks!  They were so cool.  

We naturally stayed for the rest of the afternoon, occasionally dancing or singing along (but only when the words were something like "la la la" and not "oxnnjjjaoeoejj Polish crazy talk fjdfjdfdfjjjjjjjx") (I truly do not understand that language).  The music only got better and better, and more and more priests and nuns and cute babies arrived every minute.  Everyone was so joyful and smiley and it was just the very best way to celebrate Easter. 

Wish you were there?  Well, you're in luck.  Because there is no way I could have left without capturing the party of the century on video:

Do you see why I never wanted to leave?  And this is not to mention the deeeelicious food,

really cute Old Town and Easter market,

pink beer (raspberry???),

and loveliest views EVER (more lovely pictures here).

Hallelujah!  

Auschwitz

Our first day in Poland we went to Auschwitz, which is about an hour away from Krakow.  Wow.  Wow.  I am so surrounded every day by recreations and exhibits and virtual reality that it was (and kind of still is) almost impossible to wrap my mind around the fact that we were seeing, touching, experiencing the real thing.  It seems ludicrous that real people were ever there.  It seems ridiculous to suggest that something like the Holocaust could happen just barely over half a century ago.  

Here's the infamous "Arbeit Macht Frei" gate ("Work brings freedom"):

We walked under this gate as we began our tour of Auschwitz I, which was the original camp and administrative offices.  It was at first a prison camp for "dangerous" Polish citizens like intellectuals and members of the resistance, and later for Soviet prisoners of war and German criminals.  In between two barracks is the remains of an execution wall that was used for individual executions for these prisoners:

Auschwitz I is actually a lot smaller than I was expecting: it's made up of fewer than twenty barracks.  Most of the barracks in this camp have been converted into exhibits.  

Inside, case after case is filled with remains of the lives of prisoners of the camps: mounds of suitcases that Jews were told to take with them to start their new lives; piles of pots and pans, baby clothes, family heirlooms, eyeglasses, hair, shoes.  

It was hard to believe.  And it's even harder to try to explain later, and especially difficult to try to convey on a blog.  I can't explain what it was like to walk through the barrack hallways or walk down the stairs into the basement where the first gassings occurred or look at drawings that prisoners had scratched into the walls of the starvation cell.  

After touring through the exhibits, we headed to Auschwitz II, also known as Birkenau.  This camp was constructed a few years after the first one to make more room for the people that began to pour in from the Jewish ghettos.  Birkenau was the main extermination camp and the site of over a million deaths during the war.  It got its name from the birch trees that surround the camp:

There were a few barracks remaining, but most of them were wooden and had been torn down.  The only thing that remained on the miles and miles of land were red brick chimneys rising up absurdly from the hints of each foundation.  We walked alongside the railroad tracks where convoys of people arrived every day:

We stood on the platform where the selection process occurred-- prisoners who were deemed fit to work to the right, and everyone else (almost three-fourths of every convoy) to the left: mothers and their children, the elderly, the sick, and anyone else who the SS doctors thought was unfit.  Then we walked down the "road of death" toward the gas chambers and crematoriums.  

The gas chambers at Birkenau were disguised to be shower facilities, so the prisoners were told that they were undergoing a "disinfection" process.  The ones in this camp had been much bigger than those at Auschwitz I-- more than 20,000 people could be gassed and cremated every day.  They aren't standing anymore because, in an attempt to hide their crimes, the Nazis blew them up when the Soviet Army was advancing.  Here's all that's left:

After the gas chamber, we walked all the way across the huge grounds and went through one of the still-standing buildings, the children's barracks.  

Then... we got back on our minibus and went back to real life.  And that was probably the weirdest part of all.  Nobody really knew what to do or say afterwards.  There was no "but-at-least-we-learned-from-it" pep talk from our tour guide; no memorial gardens or pictures of survivors.  Instead, we were left remembering the words on a series of plaques in every language that was spoken at the camps.  Each one read:

"For ever let this place be a cry of despair and a warning to humanity, where the Nazis murdered about one and a half million men, women, and children, mainly Jews from various countries of Europe."  

Which it was.  The end.  I guess I don't know what else to say about it or how to end this post poetically.

(more photos)