The Awful German Language or What do these three things have in common?
German speakers will realize immediately that they are all translated into German using the word “Band” — but the first one is neuter (das Band), the second one is feminine (die Band, which seems to be borrowed from the English and tends to be pronounced more in the English way), and the third one is masculine (der Band). In addition, they all have different forms in the plural — die Bänder (the ribbons), die Bands (the [rock] bands), and die Bände (the books, the volumes, in case you have more than one volume of Goethe, for example).
The good news is that you can tell them apart — if you’ve managed to internalize the above rules.
The Kurier today had an article about Vienna in the 1980s — a trip back in time. (Thanks, Kurier. That is very good way to make someone who was already an adult at that time feel rather old.) I arrived in Vienna in 1988 (had my 37th anniversary yesterday, celebrated, appropriately, at a Heuriger) and have seen significant changes, I thought it would be fun to write about some of the points mentioned.
For one thing, they write about pay phones, which reminded me of two things.
One of my first mornings in Vienna, after my German course at the Goethe Institut, I was out with my mother, who had accompanied me to help settle me in. We needed to phone the couple who became my Viennese parents to make arrangements, so we found a pay phone (they were plentiful then ;-)), put our money in, and dialed. When my Viennese father answered, he probably realized it was us calling because he couldn’t hear anything and said “Den roten Knopf drücken.” (“Press the red button.”) My mother did this, we heard the coin drop and were connected. That red button was called the “Zahlknopf” (zahlen = to pay) and released the money so that the connection could be made. Even in the late 80s, not all phones had a Zahlknopf anymore, but that one did and the Viennese had learned to give the necessary instructions.
The other phone story is much shorter. I saw a sign on a phone booth that said something about “retten”. I was familiar with the word (probably from the opening scene of “The Magic Flute” when Tamino rushes onstage pursued by the monster and sings “Save me! Save me!”) but couldn’t figure out what that had to do with a telephone. My mother translated the sign for me: This telephone can save lives. Do not destroy it. (“Dieses Telefon kann Leben retten. Zerstör es nicht.” Oddly enough, I don’t think they used the “Sie” form there.)
The article also reminded me of the men (I think it was always men) who used to sell newspapers on the street after the Trafiken had closed, which they do to this day. Vienna — thank goodness in my opinion — still has clear opening hours and very little at all is open on Sundays. You could get your news there truly hot off the press, and people often bought the next day’s paper on their way home from a ball, late opera night, or late shift. People who were looking for apartments or jobs would wait for these men and the newspapers to show up so that they could get a headstart on the search. And a tip for these men who worked long hours, in all sorts of weather, and for very little pay was obligatory.
The author also writes about Mariahilfer Straße — a very important shopping street in Vienna — and how even the part farther out, past the Gürtel, was a useful and relatively pleasant area 40 years ago. Currently, it is full of stores with really cheap goods and kebab take-out places although, apparently, there are plans to renew it. I remember, and still miss, the trams, the 52 and 58, that used to run along Mariahilfer Straße from the Ring to the Gürtel and beyond. Now we have the U3 line. Not so useful for a shopping street, I would argue. I do enjoy the kind-of pedestrian zone, though. “Kind-of” because it is what is called a “Fairness Zone,” which means you have pedestrians, bicyclists, e- and other scooter riders, and delivery trucks all in the same space without clear delineation of lanes. (What could possibly go wrong? ;-))
In addition, the author mentioned something I didn’t know. In 1988, when the Hungarians were already free enough to come to Vienna en masse, even though the Iron Curtain had not officially fallen, Mariahilfer Straße became their destination to buy things they couldn’t get at home and for a time was called “Magyarhilfer Straße” by the Viennese. My memory of this time was the truly old and stinking busses that they arrived in. We were very spoiled in Vienna with catalytic converters. These busses had no such thing and ran, I suspect, for the most part on diesel, making an ungodly noise and leaving huge black clouds behind them.
I’m sitting at the airport in Vienna waiting for a flight and am actually enjoying the commercial for Austrian Airlines that keeps flashing across the screen.
It’s informing us that Austrian is the official airline of the Austrian national football / soccer team and shows members of the men’s national team kicking a soccer ball around a hangar and a pilot joining in. Then a red shoe, a pump, stops the ball. The camera pans up to show the owner of the shoe — a middle-aged(!) female flight attendant — who winks at the men and then kicks the ball through the open door of a plane. Tor! High fives all around.
For me, this is typical of state-owned (or, more accurately, formerly state-owned) companies in Austria. Diversity, yes, but with a light touch. Which is a good way to get past people’s defenses.
In any case, as a middle-aged woman who played soccer competitively for her school for six years, it was really enjoyable.
Twice in one year, but they have been flirting with us. After my near rapturous post on May 26, the scent faded again. Then it would appear and disappear. Just Monday, a friend commented that it was a wonderful year for roses, and I said, rather sadly, “But not for the linden trees.”
This morning I was taking my usual walk in the park and was overwhelmed with the scent. They’re back in full force, and I am basking in the fragrance.
A little later this year than last, which I think is a good thing. I caught a faint whiff this morning and by this evening they were as noticeable as ever. Ah, May!
And the SPÖ (Social Democrats) are marching again. This year, the parade looks a little bigger than the past few years, perhaps because of their solid results in the elections last Sunday. Beautiful weather and a well-trained brass band are part of the tradition.
Not surprisingly, one of the banners called for solidarity. This took me back to an exercise I used to do with my U.S. American summer school students in Vienna.
To highlight one of the major differences in worldview that I see between the USA and Europe, I would ask my students for their associations with the word “solidarity.” This question was almost invariably met with confusion. What associations should they have with that word? Then I would give them examples of what my Austrian students of the same age would answer: Lech Walesa, of course, sticking together, and taking care of each other. Some Austrian students would even get into the political aspects and how solidarity is built into the systems here. I see the common use of and familiarity with the word “solidarity” as a cultural artifact for the more collectivist system here.
This time I actually remembered to tune into the ORF reporting 20 minutes or so before the start of the race. The main topic this year is the weather. No one’s going to get heatstroke today. It is beautifully sunny but currently 0°C with winds up to 40 kph(!). (Everyone interviewing, being interviewed, and commentating was in down jackets.) Apparently, 8 to 10 degrees are considered optimal. Maybe the organizers should have thought of that before moving the race up by about two weeks!
Some of the effects of the weather: the wind, of course, will be a major challenge. A prominent former Austrian marathoner, Michael Buchleitner, who was commenting, remarked on the water temperature. No, the runners do not need to swim the Danube – it’s a marathon not a triathlon – but they do need to drink water, and the water has been outside all night and will be very cold. He also mentioned, twice, before and after, that it is the kind of weather where the winners will not necessarily be the ones in top form (so, one kind of “fittest”) but rather the ones who adjust to the conditions most quickly and effectively, partly in terms of what kind of clothing they’re wearing. Survival of the fittest in Darwin’s original sense.
In fact, I immediately noticed the difference in clothing among the top runners in comparison to other years. I saw arm warmers, t-shirts under singlets, longer tighter shorts, some gloves, but, with one exception (and in contrast to the amateur runners) no ski hats among the men. One male runner did wear very large earmuffs, though. (He won.)
A small point, there are always ORF reporters on a motorcycle (now electric, if I remember correctly) reporting from the frontline, and they are concerned about how they will stay warm for the two plus hours they’ll be tootling about.
In spite of the temperatures and wind, there were a record number of runners this year. Over 46,000, if I understood correctly.
Watching this (from the comfort of my sofa, except for the half hour or so when I go down to cheer on the frontrunners) brought the usual joy of familiar landmarks: the Tegetthoff column at Praterstern, the Urania, Vienna River, Schönbrunn, Votiv Church, Prater again with the Lusthaus, (even the Ernst Happel stadium looked good) –and, of course, the glories of the Ringstraße (although I do always worry about the runners and the tram tracks).
The many, many campaign posters of the unpleasantly baby-faced Dominic Neff of the FPÖ lining Lassalle Straße were less enjoyable.
Other kinds of advertising were less disturbing, like the Erste Bank’s #glaubandich (“Believe in yourself”) in huge letters on the asphalt of the Reichs Bridge and the Hervis (sporting goods shop) banner at the halfway mark, telling the runners, who I’m sure had no time to take it in, that it made no sense to turn around now. (Like the old joke of the channel swimmer who got within 50 meters of the other shore and said, “I’m too tired. I can’t,” and turned around to swim back to where she came from.)
Valentin Pfeil, who was the first Austrian and Austrian man to cross the finish line in 2016, had been roped in as a running reporter, wired for sound and expected to comment on how the race was going while he was running it. This seemed kind of brutal to me, but he didn’t seem to mind. At the end, he even said that he experienced “runners’ high” for the first time ever in a marathon and thought that might have been because, knowing that he would be called upon to comment on the race, he wasn’t trying to run 100%. Nonetheless, I found it tactless of his ORF colleagues to ask him a couple of times along the way at which point he knew he was going to make it to the end. He finally deigned to give a clear answer, saying, “I’m passing the Staatsoper now. I think I’ll make it.” (The end is at the Burgtheater, less than a kilometer away.)
Some random points:
Vienna is really into recycling, even for the marathon. There were plastic recycling bins (those water bottles!) lining parts of the route.
The top three women – in order of arrival at the finish line: Betty Chepkemoi, Rebbeca Tanui, and Catherine Cherotich – ran as a group for most of the race, very close together, one had the sense out of solidarity. (They are all Kenyan. Perhaps that made a difference? Or was it really, as one of the commentators suggested, a strategy to minimize the negative effects of the cold and wind?)
Two of my favorites from past years, Nancy Kiprop and Vibian Chepkirui, were nowhere to be seen, although reports leading up to the marathon had suggested they, too, would be running.
The two winners – Haftamu Abadi from Ethiopia for the men and Betty Chepkemoi (see above) – were basically upsets. I’m not sure even they expected to win. And yet both won by a considerable margin. No tense finishes today. Both crossed the finish line looking incredibly strong with no one else anywhere near them. Coincidentally, they both had the starter number 12 (M12 and F12).
Haftamu Abadi pulled a picture out of his pocket just before he crossed the finish line. On the other side of the finish line, he kissed the picture (it seemed to be of Jesus), looked at the sky, crossed himself, kissed the ground, and then took off one of his shoes and kissed that. The Austrian commentators seemed to think this was a reference to his compatriot, Derera Hurisa, who crossed the finish line first in 2021, also in something of an upset and in a blaze of glory, but was disqualified because his shoes did not meet the (brand-new) regulations.
On top of that, Haftamu Abadi, who, in spite of the conditions, achieved a personal best time of 2.08:26, is the youngest winner of the VCM in its all 42 years. He’s 21 years and 12 days old in a sport that traditionally, and oddly, favors the older contestants.
The first Austrian woman this year, Eva Wutti, is in the legal profession (that generic term “Juristin” was used so I don’t know if she is a full-fledged lawyer or a legal adviser in a company, for example) and didn’t arrive in Vienna until Friday evening because she had to work(!). (She lives in Carinthia.) She also has a daughter, and the ORF reporter predictably asked how she managed to combine family, job, and running. (Equally predictably, none of the men were asked this question.) At the same time, of the four “firsts” she was the only one who had a clear answer to the question “What’s next?” She’s hoping to run the Salzburg marathon in May. (Glutton for punishment, anyone?)
The first Austrian man, and therefore first Austrian, across the line was Andreas Vojta, who, it turns out was also the first European. He came in ninth, behind the first and third runners, who are from Ethiopia, and the six Kenyans in-between. I think this kind of result is especially amazing given that he was not able to train in December or January because of an (my dictionaries and online sources failing me I’m translating word for word here) an inflammation of the skin of the heart (Herzhautentzündung) and only started training again in February.
Valentin Pfeil, the running reporter, is coaching Johannes Pell, the second Austrian man (and 12th overall) to cross the finish line.
Have I mentioned it was really cold? (See the two winners in their down jackets!)
Curious for more? There are some website suggestions below:
I’ve always known that ice cream parlors in Vienna officially close sometime in September or October and re-open in March. I didn’t realize until now that it’s the Chamber of Commerce that chooses the dates. (I always thought the ice cream sellers simply agreed on that.)
I knew something was up when I was in the First District yesterday and saw lots of people, still in their winter coats, leaning in to large ice cream cones before lunch. And I have to say I love that about the Viennese. In the meantime, you can get “Saloneis” — as opposed to “Supermarkteis” — any time of the year, but there is still a noticeably large number of people who celebrate the First Day of Ice Cream, even if the weather is distinctly March-like, with quite a cutting wind.
The added attraction this year is that the ice cream artisans are among those contributing to the celebrations for the 200th anniversary of Johann Strauss’s birth. (The son, not the father, and therefore the composer of the “Blue Danube Waltz” and not, for example, the “Danube Songs”.) Apparently, there is already a Fledermaus flavor (I have to try that one!) and a “Night in Venice” flavor that was inspired by tiramisu.
ecbinvienna 