I could've spent years in the woods at Heiligenstadt. No one could blame Beethoven for being inspired to write so many works here. Winding paths past vineyards and fields of mustard made for easily the most refreshing and inspiring day we had in the latter half of our European adventure. Our ramble took us past Beethoven's monument, where we marveled at how differently he was portrayed from his colleague Mozart. Solid and handsome. An epic portrayal of masculinity, he was the staunch opposite to the lithe, airy, pretty boy Mozart. We ended up at the Eroica House, where Beethoven wrote his third symphony, among other works.
Setting aside the fact that yet again, no one can prove whether or not Beethoven actually set foot inside this tiny apartment, and that like most Viennese homes apparently, it had been ravaged by fire several times over the years since Beethoven had "lived" there, it housed several interesting antiques. Beethoven's key plate and doorknob were proudly on display along with a copy of his death mask (a startling opposite to the proud limestone effigy we had seen earlier in the day with it's sunken eyes and barren cheekbones). A view of his backyard from the second story, vineyards and lush woodland stretching on beyond made us realize how easily it must have been to be inspired by this green oasis.
In contrast, we learned some about the Heiligenstadt Testament, his famous unfounded "last words", written in a proposed suicide letter to his brother. Fortunately, he never acted upon this dark impulse, but the letter he intended to leave behind gives us an insight into a mind we might otherwise view as a fonte of talent and nothing else. In all actuality, Beethoven was a troubled soul, never marrying, losing his hearing at such a young age, the man we view as an almost perfect talent, at at least one point in his life, felt unworthy of existence. It's hard to imagine. And all that for the low, low price of one Euro.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Mozart's House in Salzburg
How lucky was I to have been there? That's what have to keep asking myself over and over. To be where he was born, where he lived and began his years as the genius who will be forever revered for his talents. This was, by definition, precisely what I came to Austria to do. While it may sound somewhat morbid, I think it's safe to say that being able to see his hair, even behind a glass case, was about as close to a religious experience as it gets for a musician. I drooled over his buttons, swooned over his childhood violin, and paid hommage to his pianoforte (the only artifact I was not able to sneak an illegal picture of...). It was amazing to see where he'd been a baby, before anyone knew who or what he would become.
I played the role of the ugly American tourist, sneaking pictures of his hair and buttons not five feet from the museum security guard. I lingered too long next to the Klavier, and bought about fifty dollars worth of chintzy Mozart memorabilia to remember our musical hajj.
While we remember Mozart for his music, his abilities as a composer, and his supposedly colorful personality, it was perhaps most poignant to see how he grew up. To read about his relationship with his sister, how his mother watched quietly in the background while his father raised him to be a music machine. I was finally satisfied in my quest to touch history, having viewed one of the world's masters from such a personal angle.
I played the role of the ugly American tourist, sneaking pictures of his hair and buttons not five feet from the museum security guard. I lingered too long next to the Klavier, and bought about fifty dollars worth of chintzy Mozart memorabilia to remember our musical hajj.
While we remember Mozart for his music, his abilities as a composer, and his supposedly colorful personality, it was perhaps most poignant to see how he grew up. To read about his relationship with his sister, how his mother watched quietly in the background while his father raised him to be a music machine. I was finally satisfied in my quest to touch history, having viewed one of the world's masters from such a personal angle.
Mozart's Apartment in Wien
After Haydn's humble abode, I can't say as such that I had very high expectations for Mozart's apartment here in Vienna. I was anticipating rows of fake documents, a model of his piano, maybe a mock-up of his living room. I was somewhat pleasantly surprised.
It was enlightening to walk where Mozart had written The Magic Flute. Even more interesting to hear that the museum had, in, fact, been implemented by the Nazi party to preserve some of his history. It was also an uplifting surprise to discover that this was one of the few places we would visit that hadn't been totally destroyed during, and rebuilt after, WWII. I was taken aback to touch (which was somewhat against the rules, what with all the "DO NOT TOUCH" signs hanging around...) Mozart and Constanze's bedroom wall, and to see the faux marble finish that they had woken up to everyday for several years.
While a refreshing change from the diorama-like state of Haydn's home in Eisenstadt, I was still greeted warmly by that word I hold so incredibly dear. "FACSIMILE" donned most of the documents, and I was treated with many a mock-up of what furniture Mozart may have owned.
In this hunt for authentic composer antiquities, one must remember that knowledge may be gleamed from even the most obvious recreation. For instance, Mozart's kitchen chairs reflected his status as an upper middle class citizen. They were padded, making them more luxurious than those of a pauper, but had no arms, making them not so plush as those of a man of great economic importance. I can't say I wasn't disappointed however, to find that Mozart's kitchen had been nicely renovated into a gift shop, where you can purchase a bust of the man himself for only 14 Euros.
It was enlightening to walk where Mozart had written The Magic Flute. Even more interesting to hear that the museum had, in, fact, been implemented by the Nazi party to preserve some of his history. It was also an uplifting surprise to discover that this was one of the few places we would visit that hadn't been totally destroyed during, and rebuilt after, WWII. I was taken aback to touch (which was somewhat against the rules, what with all the "DO NOT TOUCH" signs hanging around...) Mozart and Constanze's bedroom wall, and to see the faux marble finish that they had woken up to everyday for several years.
While a refreshing change from the diorama-like state of Haydn's home in Eisenstadt, I was still greeted warmly by that word I hold so incredibly dear. "FACSIMILE" donned most of the documents, and I was treated with many a mock-up of what furniture Mozart may have owned.
In this hunt for authentic composer antiquities, one must remember that knowledge may be gleamed from even the most obvious recreation. For instance, Mozart's kitchen chairs reflected his status as an upper middle class citizen. They were padded, making them more luxurious than those of a pauper, but had no arms, making them not so plush as those of a man of great economic importance. I can't say I wasn't disappointed however, to find that Mozart's kitchen had been nicely renovated into a gift shop, where you can purchase a bust of the man himself for only 14 Euros.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Hostel-ity
Oh, the hostel... We got here and it was okay, and it's still okay, but culture shock doesn't even begin to cover it. It turns out you can, in fact, fit five girls, five full suitcases, six beds, six lockers, a shower, a sink, a toilet, and a trash can all into a phone booth. So far so good as we're all still standing almost two weeks in. Something else to note: European showers and windows operate quite differently than in the US. As it turns out, if your giant window tips in at you, you are not actually about to die, fear not. Also, make sure you keep the shower curtain IN and UNDER the 2 inch lip surrounding the drain. Failure to do this will result in flooding of room, destroyal of electronics, and sacrificing of towels. I bet you could've figured that out, but I thought I'd save you the trouble.
Also, if we were all smart, we'd charge 6 euros to do a load of laundry in our houses. We'd make a mint. That's what the hostel does and they seem to be doing pretty well. Also: get used to starch, it comes built into the detergent.
We have two really adorable, round little Austrian ladies that make the breakfast every morning. They really didn't appreciate our lack of German skills in the beginning, but now when you bring them your used coffee cup they smile really really big and say, "THANK YOU! GOOD MORNING!" Their enthusiasm is deeply appreciated.
We also have a very nice sunroom, where we all use the free wi-fi instead of paying 4 euros an hour to use the house machines. Sometimes the internet doesn't work, and it gives me nervous breakdowns, which I think is totally understandable since this is my only link to you lovely people.
I guess the best way to some all of that up is well, life is vat you make it.
Also, if we were all smart, we'd charge 6 euros to do a load of laundry in our houses. We'd make a mint. That's what the hostel does and they seem to be doing pretty well. Also: get used to starch, it comes built into the detergent.
We have two really adorable, round little Austrian ladies that make the breakfast every morning. They really didn't appreciate our lack of German skills in the beginning, but now when you bring them your used coffee cup they smile really really big and say, "THANK YOU! GOOD MORNING!" Their enthusiasm is deeply appreciated.
We also have a very nice sunroom, where we all use the free wi-fi instead of paying 4 euros an hour to use the house machines. Sometimes the internet doesn't work, and it gives me nervous breakdowns, which I think is totally understandable since this is my only link to you lovely people.
I guess the best way to some all of that up is well, life is vat you make it.
Gay Pari!
Okay, so all I had was a five hour layover in the Paris airport, but the ladies' restroom, the mini sandwich and my spaceous seat in the D concourse were all pretty Bon Jour if you ask me. What was not gay at all was the five euro bottle of water that I bought. It made my mouth taste furry. It is a known fact however, that Montanans are water snobs, and anything that wasn't just freshly dripped off of a glacier tastes like mud to us, so my opinion could be biased. The layover itself was pretty decent, until we all bought the water and instantly got crabby. Luckily I slept the entire rest of the way there, interrupted only by a lovely French stewardess, offering me yet another miniature sandwich, which apparently the French hold quite dear, as I experienced no normal sized sandwiches throughout the duration of my stay in their lovely airport.
Leavin' on a Jetplane- the most Overused Facebook Status in the History of Man Kind.
I guess technically we left on a bus-plane, but who can really keep track at 2:30 in the morning? No one, that's who. The idea was that we were supposed to all go to sleep on the bus and wake up on Vienna time, and granted, I can't speak for everyone else who can't roll up in a ball, hit their fiancee in the face repeatedly and sleep like a rock on a moving object, but for those of us who can, the bus ride was GREAT.
The plane ride was even better. I don't think any of us (being in economy seats...) were expecting a full hot meal of chicken with mashed potatoes and chives, cous cous and smoked salmon, brownies, brandy and champagne. That was most certainly a pleasant surprise. We got nicely tipsy on free booze, and then watched a whole bunch of free movies. I suffered through Shutter Island, and then forced Matt to suffer through New Moon. I then resumed my routine of fiancee hitting and rolling up in a ball and slept all the way there.
The plane ride was even better. I don't think any of us (being in economy seats...) were expecting a full hot meal of chicken with mashed potatoes and chives, cous cous and smoked salmon, brownies, brandy and champagne. That was most certainly a pleasant surprise. We got nicely tipsy on free booze, and then watched a whole bunch of free movies. I suffered through Shutter Island, and then forced Matt to suffer through New Moon. I then resumed my routine of fiancee hitting and rolling up in a ball and slept all the way there.
Catching up...
Hi there Y'all!
While I realize I'm starting this a bit late, I finally have two full hours of nothing to sit with a box of grapes in varying states of gross due to lack of cold storage, and a 2.7 Euro bottle of "Wasser mit Gas" from our vending machine to start this blog. It started out as a class requirement for two of the classes I'm taking while I'm here, but I figure it's a pretty decent way to keep up with those of you at home, and if you have to suffer through some art criticism and concert reviews while we're at it, so be it, you'll still love me anyway! I also anticipate talking alot about food, so be looking forward to that as we all know how much I like to eat (I have a really entertaining story about Matt and I and a couple of pizzas I'll share later...). You'll notice that there will be a bunch of posts happening on one specific day. It's because I'm a slacker, and I started this in a notebook first, but I promise everything you read after today will be completely, 100% firsthand! From Mozart to Bratwurst, and from Schnitzel to Strauss, prepare yourself for a Weiner of a time!
While I realize I'm starting this a bit late, I finally have two full hours of nothing to sit with a box of grapes in varying states of gross due to lack of cold storage, and a 2.7 Euro bottle of "Wasser mit Gas" from our vending machine to start this blog. It started out as a class requirement for two of the classes I'm taking while I'm here, but I figure it's a pretty decent way to keep up with those of you at home, and if you have to suffer through some art criticism and concert reviews while we're at it, so be it, you'll still love me anyway! I also anticipate talking alot about food, so be looking forward to that as we all know how much I like to eat (I have a really entertaining story about Matt and I and a couple of pizzas I'll share later...). You'll notice that there will be a bunch of posts happening on one specific day. It's because I'm a slacker, and I started this in a notebook first, but I promise everything you read after today will be completely, 100% firsthand! From Mozart to Bratwurst, and from Schnitzel to Strauss, prepare yourself for a Weiner of a time!
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