THE BLACK GOLD RUSH (and $300 for nothing)

I am just sitting in a plane that should bring me back from Calgary, Canada to Vienna, old Europe. I am sitting at the very rear of the plane; all the elder ladies being flight attendants of Air Canada have asked me if this seat was really assigned to me. Yes it was; not my fault! Sorry for my non-Canadian lack of patience but I have been put on hold just until 5 minutes before boarding started. Before I still wondered if I would go to Vienna via Frankfurt and will not be placed on the flight to London where there were more seats available as they said.

“You know, Air Canada always overbooks the flights by 10 percent” said the first human being that attended me on the Calgary airport. Finding one is not that easy, because here you are attended by machines. Borg? No, not that intelligent… You know, that automats that are placed at all the airports nowadays with all the confused passengers trying to get their f**** seats. Oh remember that good ol´times when we were handed out our boarding passes by nice young ladies who asked us such personal things like “window or aisle” and told us the time and gate number which they have circled with their pens, like we were completely dumb. They even wished us a good flight.

Actually, in Calgary they also have employees but their function is to keep you off the check in counters if you don’t have a serious problem (and not knowing how to use the automats does not count). Well mine did not want to recognize my passport (too big) nor my frequent flyer number (too little frequent?). Finally, after one of the “nice” ladies has typed in a number on my ticket I was unable to see without the use of a confocal microscope he (the non intelligent artificial) “told” me he could not assign me a seat let alone print a ticked but prompted I should proceed to the “problem check-in”….

There, finally a human being gave me tickets to Frankfurt with a yellow tape reading “at hold” and I was asked to carry my luggage (with the same yellow stickers) to the belt. Me myself? Yep. At least, when I asked if I had also to navigate the plane myself I was told there were still pilots with Air Canada.

Ok finally here I was in the seats normally reserved for the aircrew, right next to the wash rooms. Well not really right next to it, because much closer, too much, there was a Persian native German, overweight by at least 50 kilos. No no, I don’t have anything against fat, ahh sorry large sized individuals; as long as they don’t sit next to me in an aircraft on a 10 hours flight. He was not only overweight but also overtalkative. “You’re in the oil business?” –definitely that is the only reason why you should go to Calgary- “no I am in science”; Ahh, well I am working for Krupp” –steal production as we know here from the history lessons. “Krupp steel makes the devices to sieve the oil”..aha..

The oil, the reason for Calgary’s/Alberta’s wealth and recently exploding growth, is not just shooting out of the ground if you drill it (as I always imagined) but is mixed with sand. Hard to believe there was ever a beach or a dune in Calgary but that is what it is. So even the oily sand (or sandy oil) is reason enough to make Calgary the new capital of fine young capitalists (once we called them yuppies, but these did not drive in pick-up trucks). Astonishingly really everybody I knew or got to know there is buying a house in or around Calgary. By the way, if some guy from IKEA reads this, you should really get your Billies, Bobs and Svens there. So housing is becoming quite expensive at the moment in that city and because this will hold on forever people who have money (and if it is the bank’s money) is into real estate. And you know, the prairie is still big enough. The city itself builds highways that are still clogged and gives 300 dollars to everyone because they don’t know what else to do with it. Just like this; I am not kidding. Maybe they could invest it better into the homeless strolling around the city centre or into transportation but I guess the Alberta Con´s hold “public transport” for a communist thing. Well, there it actually functions like that.

The guy next to me kept me entertained so I know all the details about Krupp in Canada compared to Germany; actually he is into business and maybe I should inform some people I knew that he had a laugh saying that some time and the housing marked will crash just as it did in Germany, but then it is too late now anyways and why not let the guys from IKEA have some fun too. Of course I did not sleep on this trip (although it was quite “cosy”) but the Captain proudly informed us he had made up all the delay from Calgary and we will land soon in Frankfurt. His next message was slightly different “Here is you Captain again, I don’t know what the hell is going on down there in Frankfurt today but they put us on halt for 50 minutes and this is fifty not fifteen, a!”

Luckily the connecting plane to Vienna had the same problem so I finally got to the boarding in time. Breathless from running and concerned because I was not checked through in Calgary I busted “is this Vienna?” “Off course not” or “No this is Frankfurt” would have been a correct answer but a very cool ladie just typed into her computer saying calmly “Yes, just relax, I am trying to arrive myself at Vienna at the moment”. Interesting conversation I found. “So do I get my boarding card here?” “You don’t have any?” would I ask if I had one? “No I have not been checked through by Air Canada”. A funny look – “ts, ts, OK just wait a second, the really hot seats are out but here you go”. “I am happy enough not to be seated almost in the bathroom with a fat guy again” another amused look. “We’ll board in half an hour, you can have some newspapers meanwhile”. “Not the FAZ, thanks!” (I have had enough capitalists recently). “Considering your accent maybe the “Suddeutsche”? Wonderful, old Europe: talking to real people!

And wonderful: “Die Suddeutsche”. I always forget how good this newspaper is and why we have nothing comparable in Austria. I can go through 2 pages on a report about Neapel or genetically manipulated cotton in India without getting tired and this after being 10 hrs in the air. Interestingly I found an article on page 11 about Canada’s pull back from Kyoto. It was about the “law for clean air” that the neoconservative government has passed which is not in line with the climate control treaty Canada originally has signed and does not even mention the word Kyoto. Interestingly, the ice in the Canadian arctic is melting faster than anywhere else and Canada is the world third biggest air contaminator in terms of CO2 production per person having increased CO2 by 30% since 1990. And this is mainly due to....

...the production of oil in Alberta and Calgary! Extracting the oil from the sand produces three times more greenhouse gasses as does “conventional” oil production. Now guess where Canada’s new prime minister comes from? Bingo, Calgary, Alberta! Since producing oil in Alberta will triplicate CO2 production until 2012 (as calculated) Ben Harper, Krupp and co need new laws that declares CO2 as clean air to continue with real estate, highway construction and the 300 Canadian dollars gift to everybody without any reason.

FESTWOCHEN 2006 (Vienna International Theater Festival)

Der hässliche Deutsche

„The ugly german“ still exists. At least in theatre. He is farting, he is vomiting, he is brutal. He is pouring blood all over himself and over his enemies just that this time it is only theatre-blood that comes from big bottles the actors carry around. He is naked and disgusting, he is wearing female clothes wondering if to cover his not existing breasts (that, at least is the most funny part of it), he is shitting and smearing the (theatre-) excrements around his and his colleagues faces, he eats it. In between he recites Shakespeare, but without any intonation. He calls this Macbeth. He thinks that scandals is enough to call it theatre, to call it art. He thinks that one scene of acting (when the ghosts appear to Macbeth at the dinner) is sufficient. He thinks that we are shocked by the play he put to scene. But we are just bored!
P.S.: the newspapers had said half of the people would leave in the first 10 minutes of Jurgen Gosch´s Festwochen production of Macbeth. I watched carefully but in the first ten minutes not anybody left (and the theatre was sold out). But slowly but steadily people were dropping out over the next two hors (after two hours also the author of these lines left) – not because of scandal, but because they were bored.

The entertaining Brit

How refreshing in contrary is British theatre. Forced entertainment – the name of the group is the program! How I love them when they fuzz around, when they produce chaos, when they drill and hammer and disturb the acting colleagues, when they represent the Stone Age by attacking deer with a long stick on a TV screen, when they vacuum clean through the French revolution…

When the actor that somehow reminded me on Jamie Oliver, sorry for that, is left alone on stage with the stupid suggestions from his colleagues (You know, I don’t really want to be in your shoes, but well, if I were you, well I would be quite nervous…anyhow, I know you will make it and remember, whatever you do, just be yourself…); when this actor finally left all alone on stage tells you a quite long story about the thoughts you might have after jumping from a rooftop because you wanted to find out about the afterlife; because standing on that rooftop is a perfect opportunity and you do not like to be known for lost opportunities or for being afraid of trying; When the story comes to being just ten meters above the ground, the actor abruptly stops:…well, I think I just leave you there and you may think about is for a while….

Or at the very end of the show when the same guy asks you if you remember the faces you may have seen on the tramway when you came to the theatre or the colour of the car that stopped quite in front of you at the red light if you drove; and that in a year you will have forgotten all this and maybe also the show; and in 10 years time some of you might be dead, that’s possible; and in 50 years time maybe more and in 200 years time its quite safe to say…and in 200 years also all people who have known us and who could remember us have died. And in 1000 years probably this building will not be here anymore and in 1000 years this city may not be here anymore, maybe lots of water or maybe just- space. Pessimistic? “Well maybe to give a bit of a positive spin to that, for those who like, you make think if you are happy with what you are doing while you are still here…”.

Protinius vive – so if you ever have a chance to see this amazing group, do something useful with the time that you have left in this short life and go for it!

MY FIRST ORIGINAL VALENCIAN PAELLA IN VIENNA

first cut up some veggies (or better let cut)

put them together with meat and other goodies in a big paella pot

add rice (Fallera, not just any rice!) from "asa a asa"

Voil�

now you just need to wait...

....to get a real "Paella Valenciana" served

Modernity finally has found its way into Salzburg

Overlooking the old town of Salzburg

Modernity has finally arrived to Salzburg. To explain to foreigners and Viennese people: Salzburg is a provincial town in the northwest of Austria (south of Munch if that helps) which mainly lives from the fact that Mozart once was born there. Mozart also is the main product of this town - from chocolate and liqueur to the summer festival. You can really consume Mozart in any way: the skiing area close to Sazburg is called Amadee and last week another coffee place has been named - absolutely original and new – Mozart´s. Mozart himself of course and completely understandable has fled this mid-size town as soon as he could and throughout his life has preferred to live in Vienna and Prague.

Welcome,

...to the Museum der Moderne

Now I have to acknowledge that besides of music Salzburg has still a lot to offer to the tourist and has even been declared once as the most beautiful city of the world. That of course is a matter of taste but Salzburg is definitely not ugly and even owes some sort of Italian charm with its places, coffees and historic monuments. The old town seems really untouched from those old times although spruced up at its best. This actually may reflect something like the principle of this city. Everything is shiny, conserved but old-fashioned; a city underneath a bell jar where modernity hardly enters: beautiful to visit but boring to live in. No wonder that everything modern like the Zeitfluss music festival or the Guggenheim museum has bee turned down. The latter should have been built inside the Mönchsberg rock but after numerous protests from the provincial people inhabiting this place was finally realized in Bilbao, Spain where it now runs successfully. A huge chance had been missed and the Salzburg people outed themselves not only as traditional and conservative but also as economically stupid (in reality they are arrogant, “What do we need a Guggenheim when we have the Salzburg Music Festival?”).

...offering dangerous contemporary art

....and a great view

But now finally it seems that some modernity has found its way underneath the jar and manifestet itself in form of the Museum der Moderne (Museum of Modernity) that sits- although not inside but at least - on top of the Mönchsberg. A widely visible modern cubus is now sitting on the most prominent spot overlooking the town. And it houses not only a three level platform for modern art exhibitions but also a wonderful terrace with the most breathtaking view over the old town. That’s how it should be: a modern art spot from which you can overlook the beauty of the old and historic art. Go for it! Or better said: go up to it....

Choose yourself

FRU FRU

„Fruitless“ does not sound as bad as it is. I mean I live most of the time „fruitless“ and I (so far) survived. I think “pastaless” or “wineless” would be way worse. Now I read that “fruitless” has quite terrible consequences: You will go around trying to sexually attract members of your own sex and even start copulating with them. Wait, before you run to the kitchen in order to find some left over banana or an apple let me explain to you that “Fruitless” (Fru) is actually a gene and only when it is mutated causes the described phenotype – in the fly.

As reported in the scientific magazine Cell scientists from the Barry Dickson’s lab at the IMBA in Vienna have inserted the male specific form of FruM into female flies which then displayed typical male courtship behavior although they were morphologically females. What is fascinating is first the sex life of the flies that I would have imagined less exciting and more quick before reading the article: male (or in this case the FruM carrying female) first stamp with their legs, flap their wings and carefully try to lick the female (a sort of fly-kiss). Then they start to sing, well they “play a song” by vibrating their wings (probably “Can’t help flying in love”). Dickson and his coworkers did not specify if they then started to dance a waltz or a salsa (possibly waltzing given they were Viennese flies) but finally the female accepts the male by “exposing her genitals to him”, which he immediately starts licking (would you ever have imagined flies having cunillingus as a foreplay?). Finally they have intercourse; for 20 minutes! Yes I know, you can do the same on a good day when it is rainy outside but try to extrapolate 20 minutes in the lifetime of a fly to that of humans. Paste envy here. Of course the last point was a bit disappointing for the FruM females trying to penetrate other females. But if they were put together with male flies carrying a female Fru version (FruF-these male were passive) it physically worked again and the FruM females went completely crazy for the FruF males (just like normal males go crazy for normal females). This craziness was actually due to the pheromones produced by the FruF males and as researches found out, the Fru gene regulates the response to the pheromones. In other words: just a bit of female smell forced them to do crazy and stupid things like stamping and vibrating their wings. If you are a male – or at least FruM – you may remember moments when the smell of a beautiful woman made you, if not stamp and flap your wings, at least forget about your surrounding and gaze at the pheromone source.

But of course we are not flies. First, in humans there seem to be quite some initiative FruM females (the so-called fru-fatale!) as well as some passive FruF males (frufties) and second, if we were like these flies the perfume industry would be even richer. They would distillate those pheromones and put them in small falcons saying Fru de Toilette or Fru for Men! Considering the 20 minutes and the lifetime difference we would not do anything else, but then, just imagine what happens if you accidentally take your girlfriend´s deodorant in the morning. That is actually the other fascinating part of the story. That it takes just one gentic switch to be homosexual, at least in flies. There are still enough people who think homosexuality is a sin or a disease, a perversion that can be fought against. A lot of people see it as something disgusting and they condemn homosexuals (the Nazis simply killed them because homosexuality was against the nature). But it is not hard to understand homosexuals even if you are straight. Just imagine you, I mean your brain, your personality inside a body of the opposite sex. You would be homosexual then but given your personality you would actually feel homosexual if you would mate the –morphologically- other sex. You see!

Ok, I don’t think it is so easy with humans then with flies. They have a very determined behavioral program when it comes to mating (that’s why the researches picked them for their study). It would probably take more then one gene to mutate in men and homosexuality may not completely and exclusively be determined genetically. There was another report this week about insect sex, giving actually the opposite example. Dragon flies determine their ideal mate by their surrounding types of dragon flies. Let’s say if the majority of “draggy” girls have long blond hair, big breasts and mini skirts then the males would literally fly for them. But if they were the minority and thin-breast brown haired would dominate then the male would go for them and leave the blondes aside (that’s the difference to human males). So, in the extreme case, if there would be mostly males around, a male dragon fly would find them most attractive and become a sort of drag-fly. So in this case there is no genetic determination of homosexuality instead it is all behavioral. Again this extreme may not be transferable to humans but it made me think of special cases like the high incidence of homosexuality among catholic priests or homosexual sex in prisons. However, I think human (sexual) behavior is way too complex to be explained by a single simple answer but I think we can learn from such animal models to be more tolerant with other forms of sexuality and to not condemn people for what is their nature.

A Day At The Garden

Monday, May 2nd, Vienna, 30°C, my first day “at home”. As I wake up I find the fridge completely empty. Of course, I just arrived yesterday night. OK, I could have gone to the store but when I looked outside I found the weather to be bright so I decided to have breakfast in the garden. Not really in my private garden but the one in Schönbrunn, the former emperor’s summer residence, just 5 walking minutes from my flat so in a way almost my garden.


At the gate of "my garden"

I used to be there when I lived in Vienna before whenever the weather and my time budget allowed it. I was going there to read the Sunday newspapers or even to study when I was still at University (I remember sitting there with that heavy Stryer). I went there for walks winter and summer with my girlfriends and one relationship even ended there (on a park bench just next the Palmenhaus). Whenever I needed time to think or when I felt like jogging (that is some time ago) I went to Schönbrunn. After my diploma exam I went up the hill to look down from the Gloriette at the city and thought I maybe should go and try live somewhere else. It took me 5 more years before I really left and on my last day I went up there again and looked at “my” Vienna one last time.


Schönbrunn seen from behind the Neptune fountain

I do not really have a preferred spot in the gardens (like I had in the Retiro in Madrid). I mean, I had some preferred spots but they changed over the years. First I liked to sit in front of the roman ruin. That was when I met my long term girlfriend Renate. I remember sitting there with an awful hangover, staring at the ruin and trying hard to remember the name of the girl I have met the day before at one of these student parties. I did not succeed but luckily met her again at another party. For some time I had to sit in the botanical garden because Renate was studying for her botany exam (and I could here her swear from some bush away). Then our relationship ended and they started to renovate the roman ruin (a sort of omen maybe). So I moved to the Palemenhaus but I avoided that bench after my next relationship broke apart there. Then I sat next to a fountain but fighting for a bench on the Rondeau was not easy on good days. I discovered a hidden space in-between high trees which was protected from the wind and where nobody would find me (must have been my autistic period). And there were some other places I occasionally went but they never became my preferred spots. I am actually a bit confused what spot to re-conquer now.


hard to get a picture without a jogger from behind the gloriette (I was not running)

Anyway, this morning I went straight up to the Gloriette, not so much to greet “my” Vienna again but to have breakfast on the backside of it (the Gloriette now is a coffee place also inside). I was sitting there with a Prosecco (sorry to be so posh but I don’t like coffee) and a nice cake watching dozens of joggers passing by and worrying only a bit about my own shape. What should I tell you, the weather was hot and the Prosecco was little so I needed some refreshment. I just went a few steps down the Gloriette to the Schönbrunnerbad – a public outdoor swimming pool. Not just some, the swimming pool in Vienna, at least for me. It once was closed for 2 years and I remember these summers have been terrible (forcing me to switch to the Stadionbad in the Prater). But now it is re-opened and renovated (including a fitness club, beach volley fields and floodlight for “night swimming”) so I did not hesitate to buy a seasonal ticket which was not very cheap but some investments are indispensable. I was so clever and brought a swimming dress so there was nothing that kept me from my first splash in Vienna. The water was just a bit chilly but given the 30° outside that was OK.


a slash in the pool inside the Schönbrunnerbad

Around 6:30 I had to leave so I walked down the hill to the Neptune fountain and left through the main entrance. Right across the street I met with my friends to play beach volleyball. Thanks to some innovative spirit we have a field reserved there every Monday from April to October. And thanks to the floodlight we can play from 7 pm to until 9:30 (pm). And to our luck there is a buffet right there to have some Radler and beer afterwards. I did not play too much volleyball in Valencia so I was a bit afraid how I would perform. But it was OK for the first time, only that I was a bit slow in the sand. Seemed I had some handicap I did not feel before I left. I really have to get rid of those 10 extra kilos I have gained in Valencia.

Maybe tomorrow I should go jogging in Schönbrunn...