Where have you been!

Well I have been busy traveling across Europe at lightning speed for the past several weeks. It is difficult to know where to begin this blog post, which I write on my last day in Vienna. On Wednesday, I will be back in the United States, back in Wisconsin, and barring further volcano related delays, back at The Old Fashioned muniching on a cheese burger with curds and a Spotted Cow (SO to being 21 years old and not having finals during UWs finals week!)

The morning after my previous blog post, I boarded a train for Munich with my fellow trombone players Heather and Zach, as well as their friend Rachel. While I was anticipating a quiet train ride conducive to sleeping and reading, I was not disappointed when I did not get what I had wished for. Just before our train pulled away from the Freiburg Hbf, a bachelor party of 15 boarded the train, each of them carrying a large case of beer, all of them dressed in leder hosen, all of them bound for Munich and Fruhlingfest! While noise and constant chatter on a train ride can often be annoying, I found the persistent rounds of traditional German drinking songs to be a cultural experience. The Bavarian stereotypes were only beginning to be affirmed.

Our first stop in Munich was Fruhlingsfest, or Spring Fest. Basically a scaled down, less commercialized Oktoberfest, Fruhlingfest has just one beer tent, though the tent was more of a warehouse capable of holding several thousand people. Instead of hordes of American tourists, the tent was filled with friendly Bavarians, who were actually excited to share a table with American tourists. The liveliness of the conversations varied indirectly with the amount of beer that was left in their liter sized beer steins. Augustiner Beer, shrinking the world one weiss at a time. After three to four hours of revelery at Fruhlingfest, we were growing nauseated by the persistent smoke cloud that hung above every table. We said good bye to the festival as a host of soccer fans stumbled in to celebrate Bayern Munchens championship, won earlier in the afternoon. Between the enormous fresh pretzels, the rotisserie roasted chickens, the tantalizing smoked pork knuckles, the live polka band, and women in Bavarian dresses carrying 10 liters of beer, Bavaria was exactly what I thought it would be as I left the train station in Freiburg earlier that morning.

The rest of the time in Munich was spent appreciating German culture and history, thoguh this was often interspersed with rounds of beer and plenty of wurst and schnitzel. Throughout the rest of the weeekend, we explored the citys museums, churches, memorials, markets, and beer halls. For me, the highlight of Munich was an hour long hike to the monastery town of Andechs, a medieval town that has been brewing their own ale for 1000 years. A favorite site of Rick Steeves, the monastery remains undiscovered by most tourists. It remains a popular spot for aging locals to consume their daily half liter of beer, and a place for motivated hikers to enjoy Bavarian food and drink atop rolling green hills filled with small towns, onion domed churches, and landscapes that could easily be mistaken for northeast Wisconsin.

The following day I made my way to Prague on the Albert Einstein Express, a brutal 7 hour ride through mostly boring landscape. The saving grace of this ride was the layout of the train, which featured six person cabins instead of the standard layout. With few people on the train, I enjoyed my own cabin. This was very conducive to laying down and watching Its Always Sunny (again thanks to Annie for the portable Dvd player!). Prague, with its pointy cathedral spires, its myriad scultures overlooking the river, its medieval piazzas untouched by WWIIs fury, and its distinct neighborhoods that still maintain their own signature feel, was one of my favorite European cities. Despite heavy rain and brutally cold weather, I enjoyed several free tours of the Czech capital, in which I learned several uses of the verb defenestration.

However, a visitor to Prague can only make so many jokes about defenestration before being forced onward to the next town. The next stop was Vienna, the Austrian capital, and Europes classical music mecca. Here I am staying with a couple in their centuries old manor house. They have been wonderful hosts, taking me to a jazz club to here a Vienese jazz fest, to a restaurant for authentic Austrian food, and arranging a 3 and a half hour bike tour throughout the entire city with one of Viennas top tour guides. Throguhout my stay in Vienna, I have also enjoyed the company of my neighbor Paul, who has lived and studied in Vienna for the past year. Thanks to his expertise I was able to more thoroughly enjoy the city and its illustrious past, as well as its great art museums, cafes, and bars. It was truly an unforgetable reunion. I have known Paul since I moved to Appleton at the age of 4. I once chased him around his house with a large wooden stick, because he said he didnt want to be my friend anymore. After this week in Vienna, I am thoroughly convinced that chasing him with the stick was absolutely neccessary. As I have had some of my best memories of Europe in Vienna, I have no regrets about the friendship preserving beat down I would have given him had I ever been able to catch him.

Yesterday in Vienna, having seen many of the tourist sites already, I decided to wait in line for standing room tickets at the Opera. The performance was a special edition of Carmen, featuring the worlds finest opera singers. Tickets ran between 80 and 220 euros. But for anyone willing to stand in line for 8 hours, then stand through the entire opera, it cost a mere four. Though my feet were aching at the end, it was impossible not to be moved by the masterful performance of Carmen. Amidst the swaths of tuxedoes, pearls, expensive champagne, and bow ties, I stood with some of Viennas most passionate plebian opera fans. I met numerous Vienese people at the opera last night, including a couple who have stood in the standing room seats every weekend for the past 40 years. When the performance ended and the 20 minute long ovation ceased, the melody of the Toreador Song and the Harbanera remained on my mind throughout the rest of the night. As I faded off to sleep, I could still see the conductor leaping in the air at every fortzando, at the apex of every crescendo, at the clashing of the cymbals and the power of the low brass. Never before I have I seen such a powerful and spirited performance from an orcehstra or a cast. Clearly, I made the right decision in watiing 8 hours for a ticket.

And now, I conclude this blog post in Vienna. In 3 hours, Iwill be on a night train back to Florence, back to Italy, back to the air port which will carry me back to where I came from. And though the memories from this trip will last me a lifetime, though the experiences have helped me to grow in ways I cannot yet even begin to comprehend, it is time to return. Time to go back. America, here I come.