Bits Of Here And There

December 2008

Part I

What happens in Vienna…

Live it.

Have I ever anticipated it being so unbearably hot in Vienna? No. Most people dressed up in shorts and T-shirts, but I stand out of the crowd, that's for sure. Everything about me yells that I am a Russian tourist: hi-heels instead of a comfortable walking shoes; nice, but absolutely inappropriate for this weather blouse and skirt. I look too dressed up and way out of touch.

I am standing in a shade of Parliament Building. Water in the nearby fountain splashes and sparkles and, if I did not know better, I would think of it as a cool and soothing oasis in the midst of red-hot city, but I am here and I know that it will take a hundred of fountains like this one to make this place cool and comfortable.

What is this day going to be like? What is ahead of me? - I wonder. I will find out all of it in a right time. For now, I have to wait… just a few more minutes, for it’s not exactly 1 p.m. yet. Actually, I hardly believe that all of it is going to take place to begin with. So many times in my life, things were promised and sworn and never happened. So, I kind of expect that Christian is not going to show up and everything is going to be exactly the way it has always been: I am going to get upset and to get over it pretty soon because I got used to this kind of things happening with me all the time. It’s just that I have never before in my entire life, met a person who had such a glow of joy about her/himself. Nobody, except my mom, got it.

When Christian and I parted at the airport, I felt amazingly lightheaded, playful and joyful, like a kid who got to play with a new toy before Christmas and who knows that there are more presents under the tree waiting to be unwrapped the next day. Vienna is my Christmas morning and meeting Christian is only the first present opened. I am convinced that meeting this guy is the best start of my vacation possible. He was so enthusiastic about every little thing he did; so passionate about things we happened to talk about during the flight. He was irresistible and got everyone around him contaminated with joy. In just a few minutes, I felt as trustful, comfortable and confident about simply being myself around Christian as if I have known him for years; as if we have been childhood friends, then, actually, it was more like in a song: “We happened to get sits next to each other far above the clouds”.

Calm and friendly voice interrupts my path of thinking.

“Hi, have you been waiting long?”

As soon as I see Christian’s warm smile and open looks, my doubts, fears and hesitations disappear into the air. How is it possible that a person of “absolutely nothing special” looks can be so attractive? Oh, I am not sure of what is going on in your mind as you read it, but I assume that you are thinking that I have a crush on him. Right? Wrong! I don’t have a crush and I am not talking about physical attraction at all. Attraction I am talking about goes far beyond physical looks. It’s a charm of personality, some kind of charisma of this person’s soul, invisible for eyes, but so obvious for senses beyond the five we know of. It’s like a glow of something very positive and pure, something so bright and powerful that it sweeps me over my feet.

“No, I got here just a few minutes ago”.

We chat for a little while about my stay in Vienna, places I have been to during these couple of days and places I want to see.

“Are you still up to going to Vienna forest?”

Of course, I am up to it. I want to see for myself the place that inspired Strauss to write one of the most beautiful pieces of music known, place which name is so often heard of but so little explored.

“OK, we can go there, but first I have to drop off my bike at my place. It’s not far from here. So, how about doing that first, having a cup of coffee and going to Grinzing?”

I am a bit confused, but Christian explains to me that Grinzing is a place up in Vienna forest and it’s not exactly near by. One has either to take a train and a bus or to drive to get there.

“I don’t have a car at the moment because my friend borrowed it, but he is going to return it very soon and then we can go to Grinzing.”

Years passed since that hot day in Vienna, and I am still amazed at the fact that I did agree go to Christian’s place and ride with him to Grinzing, a place I have never heard of before. For you see, I am not a naïve and trusting person; I am careful about any kind of extravaganza and I know better of “don’t talk to strangers” rule thanks to growing up in a very difficult time in Russia; time, when believes if the whole nation were told to be wrong; time of mistrust and fear; time when honestly was considered a nickname for stupidity; time, when mentality of people changed from “one person is a friend and a brother to another, for we are all of a human race” to “one person is an enemy to another, for there is not enough “stuff” for all of us”. How, after years of living in fear and mistrust to the whole world beyond my own, did I have courage to open up my heart and mind to a stranger? I don’t know myself. Maybe, because I was far away from Russia, everything looked and felt as different as it was a different world, a different reality; here, I truly believed that nobody was going to hurt me, nobody lied and everyone was as honest and kind as they seemed to be. Maybe…

I follow Christian and as we get further away from the Parliament, we get into more residential, less crowded and quieter streets. I look around in awe as I walk. I am absolutely in love with the simple beauty of surrounding buildings. There is no fruity rococo and overwhelmingly sweet baroque. Everything here is about simple, straight lines, minimal décor, classical forms and neutral colors. I am so impressed with how clean and neat everything is. It seems like people who live here, do care about this place. It feels like there are human beings made out of flesh and blood behind all of it and not just names such as “Z.K.U.” and “C.O.O.P.”*, like it is in Russia. I say to myself: “ This is the place where I want to live.”

We walk into a small bakery at a corner and buy some pastries. These bakeries are unique thing about this city. I have traveled a lot around Europe and I found out that Vienna is as famous for its bakeries as Paris for its restaurants. It seems like there is a bakery at every corner downtown. They became a sort of start of every single day during my stay in Austria. Nights are warm here so I sleep with a window opened and at around 5.30 or 6 a.m., as cool morning air and sound of water truck gets into my room, a strong scent of freshly baked goodies rushes in as well, carefully waking me up and making me hungry. Going to a bakery, picking a pastry and treating myself to it, became an everyday innocent pleasure I didn’t resist to. Every time, I held a warm bag in my hands and breathed in teasing scent of apples and cinnamon, I was instantly cheered up, soothed and comforted for it reminded me of my home and family.

“I want to show you my office. I just got it not a long time ago.” Christian says with pride, opens a door and lets me in. First, it’s difficult to see because from a bright and sunny outside, I find myself in a dimly lit and cool interior. As my eyes get accustomed to light, I see a pretty specious and almost empty place. There are some posters on the walls, plants in pots, a statue and a computer desk with a chair next to it. Thick brick walls of this nineteenth century building don’t let the hit of a day get in, so the place is comfortably cool; three medium size windows don’t let much light in either, so the room is pleasantly dark; floors are of some kind of tile and I can not resist its apparent coolness and take my shoes off to let my feet relax (didn’t I mention hi-heels?) at its smooth and soothing surface.

“It’s very nice. What is going to be here?”

“It’s going to be my class-room. I got a lot of students and I haven’t gotten an appropriate place for them to come to. I mean, until now.”

I look around for few more minutes and we walk back outside, into the bright light, which seems even brighter, almost painful, now, after the dim interiors. We walk a bit further down the street until Christian stops and opens another door. We get in and walk up a spiral staircase, lit by the narrow windows on the right.

“OK, we are here.” He says and unlocks a door. I come into a small entryway and stop for I have no idea of how to behave in an Austrian home. Questions rush into my mind. Should I take off my shoes or leave them on? Is it OK to take a pick on the rooms? Should I offer my help to do …whatever?

“Go ahead and get yourself comfortable. And please, don’t take off your shoes, it’s not very clean here.” Thank you, Christian.

After a few minutes of looking around, I can finally see clearly what is going on around me. There is a window on my left, which provides enough light for the entry and the hall and overlooks a small courtyard, shrubs, flowerbeds, couple of round tables and some chairs, two while umbrellas. Christian explains to me that he is not allowed to use this outdoor area for it belongs to the people who live downstairs, so he has to limit his passion for gardening to the flowerpots, which I see sitting on a wide window sills and on the floor. Apartment isn’t big, but its layout is functional. There are two spacious rooms of the right and a kitchen further on the left. It’s a truly eclectic space. A very nice china cabinet is right next to an art-deco style table, which is neighbored by a very simple, cottage style, sofa and an Indian looking rug underneath. Old wallpaper makes place look dated and it yells for a “face-lift”; beautiful hardwood floors in the living rooms and Spanish tile in the entry, halls and the kitchen gives it a rustic look. Furniture in the kitchen dates back to the 60ss and it reminds me of the furniture in my great parents apartment in Saint Petersburg and I instantly like it.

I follow Christian to one of the living rooms. It’s a nice size room with a fireplace, high ceiling and two huge windows, overlooking building across the street. Windows are wide open, so space is filled up with light and warmth. On the walls, oil paintings neighbors glamorous posters of the 30ss. I am surprised at the fact of how much such collaboration of styles appeals to me, for all those things don’t clash, but rather complement one another. I love this apartment. I feel here right at home.

Coffee is ready and Christian and I sit down at a round table in the middle of the room and enjoy pastries and a drink, warmth and silence. It’s so easy to just sit still and appreciate all these things I see around. I am bathed in the golden light and comfort. There is nothing I am worried about. I am very thankful for all these wonderful things and experiences unfolding in front of me. For the first time in years, I don’t feel guilty for being so selfishly happy; I am not afraid of all of this disappearing in an instance; I am not feeling unworthy of it or undeserving this magnificent bliss of joy. I am very much at peace with my own state of being.

A phone ring brings me back to the reality.

“It’s my friend. He is here. Let’s go. We will drop him off at his work and go to Grinzing from where.”

We walk downstairs and outside, where a white “Opel” awaits us. Fifteen minutes later, we are on the way to Grinzing; place, where I discovered myself.

*“Z.K.U.” and “C.O.O.P.” are abbreviations which stand for maintaining facilities serving apartment buildings in Saint Petersburg.

Part I

… stays.

Christian was right. It does take a while to get here. It’s about 9.30 am; I left my hotel more than an hour ago and I am not quite there, yet.

Two days passed since Christian took me to Grinzing and for all this time there was not an hour I wasn’t thinking of it; there was nothing I could do to get it out of my head. Last night, it became obvious to me that I simply had to come back there. I wanted to see more of it and I wanted to do it alone.

Sipping on a cup of coffee at a breakfast table, I study a map to figure out how I can get to Vienna Forest. It seems to me that the best way is to take a metro to Heiligenstadt and a bus, which will take me straight to Grinzing, from there. It sounds like a good plan and I put it into action.

I am one of a few passengers on a bus, smoothly running up a winding road to Leopoldsberg, which I choose as a starting point of today’s adventure. From there, I will walk down to Grinzing to catch a bus to get back to Vienna.

On my first trip here, on the way to Gringzing, Christian told me about it and in my mind I pictured a nice but touristy place, with all proper attributes, such as souvenir stalls, big buses, bright colors of welcoming banners and crowded restaurants. I was pleasantly surprised to find out that I was wrong all alone and Grinzing was actually a small, quiet, tuned down village; restaurants weren’t busy and noisy, there were almost no tourists and I haven’t seen a single big bus.

Grinzing is a place of three colors: yellow, white and green. When it was built in nineteenth century, people of substantial income, who settled down here, took liking in yellow color for it was considered a color of nobility and prosperity. They ordered to paint their houses yellow with white as an accent color. Green is for grapevines because originally Grinzing was founded as village of wine makers. Even nowadays, there are houses with plots of land big enough to grow grapes and make their own wine. Here, restaurants serve young white wine, which is as local as it gets, coming very often from their own back yards. I learned that a pine branch at a restaurant’s door means that this place serves local wine, which I found very nice, in fact, for I had a chance to taste it when Christian and I stopped at a restaurant called “Weingut Reinprecht” for a late lunch.

I get out in Leopoldsberg and follow a number of tourists to an observation platform. Here, far above Vienna, is the best place to see the whole city down below. It’s only 10 am; it’s sunny and pleasant and I actually enjoy waiting in line to take a look in a telescope. Vienna seems to be right on the palm of my hand, as I look through it. I pin point Stephan’s Cathedral, domes of Museum of Fine Arts, I can even see bright red stripe and blue tower of the Waste Incineration Plant, an amazing building designed by Hundertwasser. I see as far as a blue band of New Danube Canal and a hi-rise building of the United Nations headquarters.

After I am done with the telescope, I hang around for a little while, take pictures of a small church with a tall pine tree in front of it and a monument devoted to an event happened long ago, which circumstances I never found out. I check my watch and see that it’s time to get going. I choose to walk one of secondary roads for there is less, if any, traffic.

I walk in a shade of trees, growing on both sides of this narrow, two-lane road. Green tops lean toward each other creating a canopy above me. It’s silent and the only sound I hear is birds twittering somewhere in the bushes. I see a path on my left, leading somewhere through the greens. I stop to check my map. The road I am on makes couple of loops before getting down to the village. I assume that the path on my left is a shortcut, which will take me to Grinzing, and I choose to follow it. As I walk, path gets less and less obvious until it finally disappears at all and I find my self at a border of a vineyard. It occurs to me that I am on someone’s property though there was no fence or any king of sing, warning me about trespassing. I have to make a decision about either to walk back to the place I came from or to cross this hundred yard stretch and get to outskirts of Grinzing down below. I am not a kind of person who turns back, so I keep following a path, which runs along the vineyard. It’s getting hot and I am getting tired. I see a clearing in between vines, a nice grassy spot in the shade of trees, where I sit down and look around.

Down below, I see Vienna. I cannot point out separate buildings, except Stephan’s Cathedral, which Gothic roofs are visible even from this far away, but there is something about this view that touches my very soul. It's framed with green leaves, it's bathed in sun light and haze, it's peaceful and silent and it's as fresh as a drink of an icy-cold water. There are miles in between what I see and me, but I believe I am one with it. Such thing as distance doesn't exist any more for I feel like a stretch of my hand will be enough to reach out and touch it; such matters as my body and body of this city as well as everything around me lost its meaning for we are parts of one magnificent life and there is no separation in between us.

I see clusters of grapes growing on the vines. These vines get strength from the same soil I walk on. These grapes are warmed up by the sun, which keeps me warm, too. I breathe air they breathe. When time is right and grapes are full of juice, they are going to be picked up and made into wine. Someone will drink it and with another sip, an idea, which will affect lives of thousands of people, including me, will come into this person’s mind. We are all connected in ways we don't know about. We are all one.

In this place, I recognize a very primal and simple connection in between everything in this world. I recognize that I am a part of it and I am as important to this whole as anybody else.

This view over Vienna is imbedded into my soul since this day in July. It’s not only that I see it now as clearly as I did back then, but that I feel today exactly the same way as I felt almost eight years ago, as well. Anytime, I can choose to be back to this vineyard; I can choose to be brought back to the very core of my being. Funny thing is, that I cannot figure out what this state of being, this moment, was made of. What was there that made it so special and powerful? I consider these few minutes the most important moment of my life. Moment, when my eyes, my mind, heart and soul was opened to something so much greater than anything I know of that I cannot even put a name to it.

When I got back to Russia, I happened to read a story by Somerset Maugham about a man who saved enough money to live life he wanted to for ten years; he decided, that as soon as he runs out of money and won't be able to afford to live the way he likes any more, he would commit suicide. When time came, he couldn't bring him self up to do what he intended to. So, he ended up with no money, no place to stay, and not even a desire to live. In some way, his spirit did die, but fear kept his body alive, and the old men kept on existing rather than living, for what is body without spirit, this spark of life within? And this existence was one of misery, sickness and begging until the day he died. I thought about this story a lot and I came up with a conclusion that it does appeal a lot to stay in a moment of pure happiness forever. This is exactly what the old men wanted to happen and I believe that he would succeed, if he didn’t miss the only chance he got; a chance to make a decision between life and death, between keep on living and face life challenges, or to die in a joyful state of being he has been experiencing for ten years. He didn’t choose either.

I was haunted by this idea of perfect death because I have never relived quite the same moment of pure happiness, love and peace since that day up there, in Grinzing, in between grape leaves and sky. There was nothing like it. Was it my moment to choose between life, not necessary all pink and joyful, so unpredictable, and peaceful and happy death? In this case, I missed my chance for “happily ever after”, too. If I died then, I would die as a very happy person, in deed, but I didn't die. Rather, I was born again; this time, with eyes wide open.

I know that there is a meaning to everything. I know that something changed up in Vienna forest. I know that I am still alive for a reason. I know, that life, even though it gets tough sometimes, is the greatest gift ever given.

Live it.