During the course of my relatively extensive travels, I have always found it soothing to observe people going about their normal lives. When I am in a foreign country, outside of my normal schedule and perhaps even outside of my comfort zone, I love to see people shopping for groceries, children returning from school, business people going about their daily office routines, and families visiting friends in the evening. While my life, however temporarily, has assumed an element of the unfamiliar (which is simultaneously scary and thrilling and is one of the reasons that I love to travel), I take comfort in the fact that somewhere, someone's life is still functioning normally.
While I myself may not be entirely "normal" (please no comments from the Peanut Gallery), my life is relatively normal, even if I have been living in a foreign country for the past three years. Now that I'm in the process of transitioning from life in Austria to life back in the U.S., life is anything but normal. Crazy, yes. Distracted and disjointed, most definitely. Both exciting and sad, you betcha. But normal? You must be smoking something.
Despite the unsettling process of re-settling, however, I take infinite comfort in knowing that somewhere, someone's life is normal. So the next time you (or I, for that matter!) are feeling a bit dissatisfied with a seemingly boring life, remember that somewhere, someone's glad that your life is functioning normally!
27 April 2010
18 April 2010
As Nature Intended
There's this driving school in the town where I work. It's housed in a mint green building and, for reasons known only to the school's designers, their mascot is a cow who stands outside the building with the school's logo painted on her side. I have no idea what cows have to do with driving, but at least Bossy makes a good landmark and conversation piece.
The funny thing about this cow is that it has, within the last year or so, had some pretty significant surgery. It originally had both large horns and udders, which I initially thought was a sign of major gender confusion. Then I started reading The Pioneer Woman and realized the female cows can have both horns and udders. How's a girl from the suburbs supposed to know these things? Sesame Street should address these kinds of issues so that children growing up in the suburbs don't make fools out of themselves as adults due to their lack of bovine knowledge.
In any case, many months ago, during one of our frequent bouts of wind and rain, the Driving School Cow toppled over, dislodging one of her (rather large - I still maintain that the horns were too large for a female cow) horns. There were a few pathetic and asymmetrical months in which the poor cow sported only one horn - and in which the children of the town once again began believing in unicorns.
Then, whether by man's design or the power of the elements, the second horn later disappeared, leaving behind a sedate-looking, hornless cow who continues to serve as the driving school mascot...albeit a mascot who kind of looks like she has brain matter oozing out of holes above her ears. Don't worry, readers with delicate sensibilities, it's not really brain matter - just some sort of foamy adhesive.
And that's no bull.
The funny thing about this cow is that it has, within the last year or so, had some pretty significant surgery. It originally had both large horns and udders, which I initially thought was a sign of major gender confusion. Then I started reading The Pioneer Woman and realized the female cows can have both horns and udders. How's a girl from the suburbs supposed to know these things? Sesame Street should address these kinds of issues so that children growing up in the suburbs don't make fools out of themselves as adults due to their lack of bovine knowledge.
In any case, many months ago, during one of our frequent bouts of wind and rain, the Driving School Cow toppled over, dislodging one of her (rather large - I still maintain that the horns were too large for a female cow) horns. There were a few pathetic and asymmetrical months in which the poor cow sported only one horn - and in which the children of the town once again began believing in unicorns.
Then, whether by man's design or the power of the elements, the second horn later disappeared, leaving behind a sedate-looking, hornless cow who continues to serve as the driving school mascot...albeit a mascot who kind of looks like she has brain matter oozing out of holes above her ears. Don't worry, readers with delicate sensibilities, it's not really brain matter - just some sort of foamy adhesive.
And that's no bull.
04 April 2010
The Mystery of St. Michael's
There are over one hundred churches in the Vienna area, of which I've been to maybe fifteen. One of my favorites of the fifteen I've been to, however, is St. Michael's. It's old and dark, and it has this extraordinarily beautiful altarpiece depicting the archangel Michael and the angels throwing down Satan and his angels, while the eye of God watches over the scene. There's just such a feeling of victory in the altar, and the action and movement that is captured in the sculptured stone is breathtaking.
I love the worshipful atmosphere in St. Michael's, and another favorite aspect was that I always seemed to visit when the choir was practicing. The gentle Gregorian chant and choral music, which seemed to float out of one of the back chambers as if out the mists of a time long past, heightened the feeling of solemn awe that you feel when visiting a beautiful old place of worship.
St. Michael's was always part of my Vienna tour when I had visitors, and I always hoped that the choir would be practicing when I took my visitors inside, and it usually was. Because I am usually in Vienna on the weekends, it made sense that St. Michael's choir would be practicing on a Saturday or Sunday afternoon in one of the church's back rooms.
At least two years passed. Then, during one routine visit, as I was soaking up the atmosphere and reveling in the beautiful sounds of the choir's singing, it suddenly occurred to me how incredibly lucky I was that the choir always seemed to be practicing when I visited. My heart sank a little bit...and then I saw it.
At the foot of one of the statues beside the altar.
A CD player. For over two years, I had been convinced that the hard-working choir of St. Michael's practiced constantly, and that I always lucked out in timing my visit to overlap with their practice time. I was incredibly disappointed - and more than a little sheepish - to discover that the "choir" was really a CD on repeat!
I love the worshipful atmosphere in St. Michael's, and another favorite aspect was that I always seemed to visit when the choir was practicing. The gentle Gregorian chant and choral music, which seemed to float out of one of the back chambers as if out the mists of a time long past, heightened the feeling of solemn awe that you feel when visiting a beautiful old place of worship.
St. Michael's was always part of my Vienna tour when I had visitors, and I always hoped that the choir would be practicing when I took my visitors inside, and it usually was. Because I am usually in Vienna on the weekends, it made sense that St. Michael's choir would be practicing on a Saturday or Sunday afternoon in one of the church's back rooms.
At least two years passed. Then, during one routine visit, as I was soaking up the atmosphere and reveling in the beautiful sounds of the choir's singing, it suddenly occurred to me how incredibly lucky I was that the choir always seemed to be practicing when I visited. My heart sank a little bit...and then I saw it.
At the foot of one of the statues beside the altar.
A CD player. For over two years, I had been convinced that the hard-working choir of St. Michael's practiced constantly, and that I always lucked out in timing my visit to overlap with their practice time. I was incredibly disappointed - and more than a little sheepish - to discover that the "choir" was really a CD on repeat!
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