An authentic Austrian Easter

**The Austrian version of palm fronds for Palm Sunday: pussy willow!

Yes, yes, Easter has come and gone. But unfortunately I was not on top of things to give you a report on Austrian Christmas traditions, so although it's already late in the season, I am going to report on Austrian Easter traditions. This year I was fortunate enough to experience my first Austrian Easter--and an authentic one at that! What better way to celebrate the Resurrection than in a tiny village full of Catholic tradition in the Austrian countryside?

**The Fasching Tuesday parade in Graz.

It's probably fair to say that we first start observing Easter traditions with the day before Ash Wednesday--on Fasching, or carneval. (...Think Mardi Gras, Austrian style...) My school was off that day, so I went into town with some friends to watch the Fasching parade. If Halloween is an excuse for Americans to dress in costume, act silly, and party hard, then Fasching is the Austrian equivalent--on Fasching Tuesday the streets are bursting with children and adults alike in various stages of costume and disguise. Many of the adults' costumes get highly creative, and the children's are of your classic trick-or-treating variety. Businesses and schools (those in session, that is) close at noon and hoards of people spill into the streets to watch the parade--your typical variety show of bands, organizations, cartoon characters, traditionally-clad Austrians, etc. After the parade, if you can survive the crowd crush, you can find one of the several stands downtown giving away free Krapfen, or Austrian-style jelly-filled donuts of JFK fame. As Krapfen are pretty addictive, we had no problems helping the town rid itself of its donut-y surplus.

**The Americans with their Krapfen. Yum!

After the raucous partying of Fasching Tuesday begins the time of Lent, or as the German word so appropriately denotes, "fasting time." Austria is a historically Catholic country, and that tradition continues into today's society. The majority of people I meet would describe themselves as Catholic, meaning that they're from a Catholic family or went to mass (at least for holidays) as a child. According to the Austrian Roman Catholic church, 68.5% of Austrians at the end of 2005 identified themselves as Catholic; however, only 9% of the population goes to church every week. Based on observation and what many young people would tell you, that 9% is OLD. In fact, in 2005, 16% of the population was 65+ years old...so you do the math.

That being said, Easter is one of the holidays that everyone likes to get in on. Even those who don't observe Lent may start preparing for Holy Week on Palm Sunday by bringing home a palm frond. But this term is deceiving--whereas you would see plenty of palm fronds in America on Palm Sunday, in Austria you will see pussy willow! This was actually a tricky play on words for me, as the German word for pussy willow (Palmkätzchen, or the decorative Easter variety of Palmbuschen or Palmstecken) contains what sounds like "palm." Naturally I assumed it to be like the palm of my own Palm Sundays, and I found myself in one of those confusing conversations with an Austrian friend explaining what "palm" meant in my country! It wasn't until days later I figured out that my friend was actually describing pussy willow and not just some fuzzy mutant growth of palm leaves. Back in the day, the pussy willow was blessed and then placed in convenient locations around the home and farm--in the attic, behind the crucifix, in the cattle stall, in the bee hives, scattered in the fields, etc.--to protect against afflictions such as illness, lightning, housefire, war, natural disasters, and so on. Part of the pussy willow's appeal as a seasonally holy plant was its nurtritional and healing powers; in times of want it could be dried and pulverized to be used as an additive in nutritionally inadequate meals. In this way, the pussy willow tradition in this area is both practical and celebratory.

And let us not forget one of the most prominent symbols of Easter: the Easter egg! Easter eggs--both dyed and decorated--are found in abundance here. The Easter market that sets up in the town square during Holy Week offers a wide variety of hand-painted and impressively hand-carved Easter eggs that can be hung as decoration. Traditionally Maundy Thursday is the day that the eggs are dyed and these particular eggs (as well as the ones dyed on Good Friday) are thought to have particular powers, especially in the area of love.

**And actual lamb, found near the Easter eggs in the Easter market! I like to think he was cute, and not meant for Easter lunch!

On Good Friday, the bells go silent. You may recall the post with all the town bells ringing out together--for three days they are still. As a sign of somberness and reverence the bells will cease on Good Friday, and it is said that the bells fly to Rome to be blessed. Out in the countryside, the old tradition sometimes lives on: during these three days, children run through the town with noisemakers at particular intervals to signal the time of day. Thus, the townspeople in the days before watches and cell phones could continue to know the time until the Resurrection, when the bells will ring again.

On Holy/Black Saturday around 11 am or so, the townsfolk walk through town to the church with baskets full of meat, eggs, and bread. There the priest will bless the food, which will then be eaten later as an Osterjause, or Easter snack. A local tradition in the town where I teach is also the distribution of the holy fire. At the blessing of the meat, eggs, and bread, the priest will also burn incense in a fire and bless the fire; the children of the town will then each take a bit of the holy fire in a bucket and go door to door, offering to light the fires in the ovens of the people in town. For this they are given a small monetary gift. Later that evening everyone will go to mass and celebrate the Resurrection. After mass, the Easter fires are lit--basically big bonfires, getting bigger and bigger the further out into the countryside you go! We must have seen about 3 or 4 bonfires on our way out to the village where we spent Easter, and on our arrival we were treated to the blessed Osterjause. At around 9:30 that night, a candle-lit procession of praying and singing townsfolk marched through the town, out to the next little village, and back again. More and more people joined the procession as it snaked its way in and out of town. After the procession, the bonfires continued to burn, the crosses on the hills were illuminated, and the celebration of the Resurrection was official.

On Easter morning, mass is held. The church in our little village was tiny (and was of course several hundred years old) but had an amazing choir. Songs were sung, prayers were said, and the normal Easter passages were read. And of course after church the traditional Easter lunch is to follow. A newer, less traditional Easter custom is that of the Easter bunny--yes indeed, even Austrian children get a visit from the Easter bunny. He comes early in the morning and hides all the colorful Easter eggs (real ones of course!) and sweets for the children to find. Our Easter lunch had to be hands down the most amazing Austrian food I've ever had--prepared by an honest to goodness Austrian grandma with love and about 50 years of cooking experience!

**The church where we went to Easter mass.

It was quite a treat to be able to celebrate with friends and see the way things are done here for one of the biggest celebrations of the year. There are so many meaningful parts to the Easter celebration here; and it seems like a holiday that, despite the falling number of church-goers, is still appreciated (for any number of reasons) by many.

Herzlich Willkommen....

Back in the fall, I promised to give you a virtual tour of my new apartment--which turned out to be a rather empty promise. I had grand visions of an elaborate video tour of the apartment and its surroundings...but it never came to be. Alas.

Yesterday I embarked on some spring cleaning on a massive apartment-wide scale, and I didn't stop until I'd not only cleaned the apartment and my room, but I'd rearranged as well. And now that I have a nice cozy new layout to my room, I figured it was time to finally show you guys my new digs. And I couldn't have scripted it better, as the snow falling outside lends an even more gemütlich (cozy/comfy) feel to the place.

So finally, without further ado, I give you the virtual tour of my new room...

Making the Scandinavian Rounds: Sweden and Denmark

**Gotta love the smorgasbord. And am I the only one who immediately thinks of the song that Templeton the rat sings in the old animated version of "Charlotte's Web" when I hear this word?**

First of all, I'm so sorry that it's been a month since I've posted anything on the blog! I'm still alive, and I have new and exciting things to report. Things are still pretty busy and I'm preparing for my next break, but after that I'll try to be a bit more faithful about letting you know what's going on over here. Sorry!



And now for the good stuff--my semester break! The Austrian semester runs on a different schedule than the American semester, which means I had a random week free in the middle of February. A couple weeks earlier I'd called an old high school friend studying in Sweden to wish him a happy birthday, and when I got off the phone with him I found myself with plans to visit Sweden in a mere 10 days! Quite conveniently I'd found a 2-for-1 deal on airline tickets from Sky Europe, so I decided to drag my roommate along with me for five fun-filled days in Sweden.



Ironically, we spent more time in Denmark than Sweden--only 1 day out of 5 was spent entirely on Swedish soil! Because Copenhagen is the closest major airport to Lund, we flew into Denmark and took the train into Sweden. In about 50 minutes we found ourselves in Lund, a university town in southwest Sweden. The weather was overcast, cold and windy--as it tends to be from September to April (and in fact the month of January only saw 8 hours of sunshine!), but I was thrilled to be in a country with a language that sounds like skipping through a field of daisies. Having a "native" guide is always a treat, and the first day we toured historical Lund with a fascinating narrative involving haunted university buildings and cathedral-building giants. We stepped into one of the many cafes to warm our noses and rest our feet and experienced our first "going for fika"--coffee, conversation, and the warm fuzzy feeling that comes with it, which is oh so popular in fighting the drab southern Scandinavian winter. Over fika, we discussed our plans for the following day--a coast-to-coast road trip through southern Sweden!



The next morning four of us piled into a borrowed car and set off in the direction of the little red arrows on our map. The idea is that we would start in Lund and work our way eastward, stopping at churches, castles, and little villages along the way to the southern coast. From there we could visit an old set of pre-Viking megaliths and continue up the east coast to a few more towns, before working our way back across the country that evening. The fantastic thing about the road trip and the borrowed car was that it allowed us to see parts of Sweden we never would have seen from a train or a bus--winding country roads, rural farmhouses, and quaint seaside villages.



Our first stop was in Dalby, to visit the oldest stone church in Scandinavia. It was old, it was stone, and it was not very helpful that the signs outside the church were all in Swedish. Unfortunately a lot of the historical and architectural significance was lost on me. Oh well.



We drove further through the countryside, past farms and fields, and we arrived at a castle dating back to the 19th century. However, it wasn't a castle in the sense of Cindella's castle or even Dracula's castle, but rather the Swedish version of a "castle" is more like an English manor house--for some reason I could just envision Henry James walking the grounds. We walked the grounds and then headed down to the town of Ystad in the middle of the southern coast for lunch and some desperately needed lithium batteries for my camera.



With full stomach and some degree of curiosity we then set off for Ales Stenar, the Swedish version of Stonehenge. Never having been to Stonenenge myself, I had more curiosity than expectations. This was probably a good thing, as megalithic structures can only capture so much intrigue. Impressively, these large stones have been arranged in the shape of a ship and have been sitting on a cliff by the sea for the past 1500-2500 years. There is still some debate as to their function--lunar calendar? burial site?--but they still get the important reputation of Really Really Old Structures of Unclear Origin from Ancient Societies We Know Little About. It was fun to see the rocks and even more fun to play on the cliff and take cool photos. After a final stop for fika in another cafe on the east coast, we returned to Lund. Surprisingly, it only takes about one hour to drive from coast to coast without any stops.



The next day my roommate and I went to Copenhagen. The entire train journey there, I had the chorus of "Wonderful, wonderful Copenhagen, salty queen of the sea..." from the 1952 Danny Kaye musical Hans Christian Andersen running on repeat through my head. And I have to say--Copenhagen was indeed wonderful wonderful! Our first stop into town was the tourist information office, where we picked up a map of the city with a walking tour mapped out. This was the perfect route for us--we got to see all the best parts of the city and didn't once have to board the public transportation! We wandered through town squares and pedestrian shopping areas, by government buildings and around central ice skating rinks. The city itself was beautiful--the architecture was lovely and the buildings are colorful (in typical Scandinavian style) and even the docked ships are full of flavor. But for me the best highlights of the city were my two great loves: The Little Mermaid and food.



I got the original video tape of Disney's The Little Mermaid in 2nd grade as a reward for a good report card. I then proceeded to watch the movie enough over the next several years that I can confidently say I had the whole thing memorized. I would grab a pillowcase out of the linen closet, pull it up over my legs, and hop around the house in my newfound "fins" singing "Part of Your World." Repeatedly. I wanted to be the Little Mermaid--and even in 1989 I could identify with Ariel as she longed to leave home and, oh I don't know, go live in a foreign country! As you can see, part of me never really grew out of wanting to be Ariel. (And please don't spoil my fun by leaving me a comment about the "real" ending to the story by Hans Christian Andersen. I willfully choose to ignore that version.) Despite the warning by pretty much every travel guide and former tourist to Copenhagen that the mermaid statue was not all that it was hyped up to be, my highest priority in Copenhagen was to see the statue of The Little Mermaid. I was determined to make her worth it--whatever that meant. I was not disappointed. In fact, you could say that my first reaction upon seeing her was one of suppressed glee--the mature adult trying to tame the inner 2nd grader squealing with delight on the inside. The Little Mermaid was, apparently, moved slightly farther out into the water to deter overenthusiastic tourists from physically accosting her or persistent vandals from once again beheading her. Did that deter me? Of course not! There were rocks leading out to the statue, and after some deliberation and mental calculations, I determined that I could in fact reach the statue by hopping the rocks. But the rocks, my friends, are much more slippery than they appear...so my advice to you is NOT to approach from the right. Especially in the wintertime. You will end up with cold wet feet and an algae-y bum. However, should you reconsider and decide to approach from the left...well, let's just say you may get to meet her in person. Needless to say, we took scores of photos to document the visit and very intentionally make it worth it!



Lunch was the other high point of the day. And what a high point it was. Friends in New York had already introduced me to the Danish lunch--and elaborate spread involving pickled herring, various salads, breads, and a particular schnapps-like drink called Aquavit. For those of you who would first react exactly as I did--"You want me to eat pickled fish?!?!"--let me just say that it will rock your world and change your life forever. Pickled herring is an incredibly tasty dish, and when properly coupled with some high-octane Aquavit (may the feint of alcoholic spirits beware!) it makes a most delightful lunch. Our real Danish lunch was worth every Kroner--pickled herring on buttered rye, fried cod with curry sauce, chicken salad, shrimps with mayo and lemon, and Danish "apple pie"...complimented of course by Danish beer and a bit of Aquavit. Best. Lunch. Ever.



That evening, back in Sweden, we had another particularly noteworthy experience--and this one quite possibly the best experience of the whole trip: we went to a Swedish sauna. And not only did we go to a Swedish sauna, we went to a Swedish sauna located 0.7 km out on a pier in the strait between Sweden and Denmark! It was dark, rainy, and windy as we walked out on the seemingly neverending pier. The incredible idea behind this sauna is that after spending awhile in the sauna itself, you run outside and jump into the sea! We could see whitecaps forming in the water, and I thought to myself, "It's stormy and it's winter and I'm jumping into that?!" I was actually quite excited though--where else can you combine the experiences of a sauna and polar bear jumping all rolled into one? The sauna was segregated by male and female sides, and I will leave it to the intuitive reader to figure out this very European way of things. I'd only been in a sauna once before (in the Roman baths in Budapest, where they also have an ice bath available), so I was looking forward to another genuine experience. And as the hot-cold combination is supposed to do wonders for your circulation, I was totally game to jump into the sea...in winter...in decidedly Nordic Sweden. The sauna was dimly lit and heated by hot coals; by throwing a ladle of water onto the hot coals, you could release more steam into the air. When you get to the brink of boiling, you run outside, fumble down some steps, and plunge into the 3.5°C water below. And involuntary cry escapes your lips. Depending on what kind of person you are, it could be a yelp or a bellow or a string of profanity--this sauna hears all types. If you're the competitive type, you may try to see how long you can stay in the water and scorn those who have the better sense to extract themselves before you do. If, of course, you were so inclined. And finally, pink and tingly, you'll run back into the sauna as swiftly as your numbed feet will carry you and your body will spend the next few minutes schizophrenically trying to decide whether it is hot or cold.



We decided to take a round trip from Sweden to Denmark and back again. We started in Lund and took the train up to Helsingborg, a tiny harbor town on the strait between Sweden and Denmark. From there you can take the ferry to Helsinor, a tiny harbor town on the strait between Denmark and Sweden. Wait...can that be right? What are those tiny harbor towns directly across from each other on the strait between Denmark and Sweden? Oh, yeah, right, they DO almost have the same name! Now was I talking about Helsingborg or Helsinor, I can't remember...



Approaching the Danish side on the ferry, Hamlet's castle (suspiciously dubbed Elsinore in what could have only been Shakespeare's personal jab at the two tiny harbor towns which bare ironically similar names to Elsinore) stands firmly on the coast. Defensively speaking, the Kronborg castle (its real name) is impressively well-fortified. A series of ramparts and moats and weapons successfully kept enemies at bay for centuries, but the strongest and most fearsome defense is found in the deep underbelly of the castle--it is there that the fabled Ogier the Dane (Holger Danske) lies sleeping, only to awaken and rise up when Denmark meets mortal peril, delivering the nation from its foes.



Our last stop was the Louisiana Museum of Modern Art near Copenhagen, boasting an exhibit comparing the works of Cezanne and Giacometti--the first museum to make such a leap, but quite a fascinating and successful one. It was really quite an impressive collection, and the art historian in me was really glad to make that stop.



We flew out of Copenhagen the next day. In the airport, I successfully purchased some orange juice and conducted the entire interaction in Danish. Nevermind that I said three words--the point was, it was Danish and it was a legitimate transaction and I was understood. Right before we flew back to Vienna, we accomplished our final goal: to eat a danish in Denmark. Clever, right? However, in Danish, danishes are actually called "Viennese bread"--oh the irony!