Please note: tomorrow morning I take the train to Germany for Easter break. I'm not sure what my Internet connection will be like, so if I don't post anything don't panic. I'm still alive, just busy playing tourist, visiting friends and most importantly, on a reconnaissance mission for blog worthy incidents.

A gentleman's crime?

Believe it or not, Austria is different from what I am used to. (Yes, I know. Surprise, surprise.) But I wasn't expecting this...

Yesterday (Tuesday, March 27, 2007), I went to write one of my first final exams. I had done some studying (not as much as I would have liked to, but I did study hard). The majority of Saturday I had spent reading through the PowerPoint (we didn't have a textbook) plus handouts and class presentations. I even briefly looked over the mathematical formulas.

By the evening I was pretty impressed with myself - my exam isn't until Thursday and I'm studying already? Wonderful. However, while talking with my cousin I realized something was not quite right. Something was wrong. Very wrong. Turns out I had my exam dates mixed up. Instead of having all day Monday (no classes), most of Tuesday (just two classes) and almost all of Wednesday (just one evening class) to spend studying I only had Monday. That's correct. Instead of the exam being Thursday morning like I had thought, it was actually Tuesday morning. Woah. Not a good thing.

By the time I realized this it was almost Sunday morning and there wasn't much more I could do that night. I scribbled off an e-mail to Ruschen one of my group members asking if we could meet on Monday for an emergency math tutorial (it's never been my strong point) and went to bed.

Sunday I tried to relax and keep calm, cool and collected. I told some of my friends at church about my upcoming exam and one of the girls graciously agreed to lend me her calculator. (A girl's got to have her priorities: why spend money on a calculator when you could just as easily spend it on shoes - especially since you'll end up using them more?) In the afternoon I talked with friends back home and went out for dinner with my Aunt and Uncle who were visiting from Luxembourg.

After dinner things got serious. I had my notes still had my notes from Saturday spread out on the dining room table so I just sat down and started studying. Now, I have never claimed to be good in math. And throwing Greek symbols into the equation? Yeah. Not what I do for fun.

Monday morning I was up early - after all I couldn't sleep in with a clear conscience, I had an exam to be studying for. I had the whole morning to study on my own and study I did. I worked and reworked calculations from in class and from the work booklet. There were three formulas that the lecturer had stressed (here are the German names - no clue what they are in English - maybe the same?): the Bayes-Prinzip, the μ, σ – Regel and the Bernoulli-Prinzip. Simply by reviewing some of the class PowerPoint slides and then sitting down and working on a few problems I managed to figure out parts of the equations. Any questions I had I wrote down to ask Ruschen later.

At 13.30 I meet Ruschen for our math study session. She was great. She was very patient and not only answered my questions but also offered to help me with other calculations. We'd been working for about an hour when two of our classmates came into the room. They sat down at the table behind us and between laughing about the weekend's escapades they loudly read through their notes. Ruschen and I ended up taking a break and the four of us chatted for awhile. One of the girls pulled a sheet of note paper out of her day planner; "During class I took notes of everything I didn't quite understand. I know the a and the b formulas already, but I didn't quite get the c, d, e, f and g formulas so I'm putting them on my cheat sheet. I'm looking over the rest of my notes tonight and then compiling my sheet." I looked at the speaker, raised an eyebrow and asked her to explain. I'd heard a few things about cheating in Austria but I wanted to hear it straight from the source. And did I ever.

"It's quite simple. You just write down what you need to know and hide it up your sleeve until the exam starts. Or you write on your arm and wear a long sleeve shirt. If you're good you never get caught. And if you do get caught there's not much that they do. Sometimes you have to re-write the exam sometimes you just get a lecture. Everybody cheats so they can't really control it. It's a gentleman's crime."

Ah. I see. Well. Tomorrow was going to be interesting. If for nothing else than watching Austrian students write an exam.

My math session with Ruschen over and having been "educated" on the ways of cheating I headed home. My head was spinning - partially because sigma and mu were bouncing around in there and partially because I had a decision to make. A few weeks ago the instructor had said I could bring in my German/English dictionary. Theoretically a dictionary would be perfect to smuggle in a cheat sheet. I could even smuggle in a whole handful of sheets. On the one hand I could try the exam with what I knew and on the other hand I could try this cheating phenomenon. Yeah. Decisions.

In the end I spent the rest of the night studying. I reviewed handouts from the group presentations, practiced a few more calculations and went to bed.

Tuesday morning dawned bright and early. Too early...especially to be going to write an exam. At 8:15 I strode into the classroom, found a seat in the second row and arranged my things: pens, pencil, dictionary, calculator and water bottle. Cheat sheets? No. I'd decided not to. The exam had just started when one of the class heart throbs rushed into the room, flung his stuff down and took a seat. The instructor shook his head no and pointed to the seat beside me. Great. Or not.

You would think that once the instructor says "Go" things would calm down and students would concentrate on their work. Not quite. At least they didn't in this exam. I've never been in a situation like that.

I know students in North America are not angels (maybe they are at your school, but at my school cheating does happen. And when you're caught - oh my, there's hell to pay). Back home we're threatened with expulsion if we are caught cheating - the same goes for plagiarism. Academic dishonesty is taken very seriously.

What was going on around me was something I had never experienced before. Students whispering to each other and leaning over to copy off of each other's exams. I'd never have believed it had it I not seen it. Ever had the feeling you're being watched? Yeah. I had that. At one point Mr. Class Heart throb leaned over and whispered "Sarbanes-Oxley Act", I shook my head and muttered something about not knowing. He looked at me "No, for you: Sarbanes-Oxley Act." I glanced at him, looked down at my exam and flipped to the next page without writing anything down - needless to say he didn't try to read my exam or give me any more answers.

The last fifteen minutes of the exam were the worst. Students actually turned around in their chairs: "Hey, did you get number six? What do you have for the last question? Do you have that formula?" Where was the instructor? Walking up and down the aisle. Did he see what was going on? I don't see how he couldn't. Did he do anything? Not that I saw. Once he started collecting exams students actually started holding up and comparing their exams. Unreal. I can just imagine the heart attacks my professors back home would be having if I attempted anything like that. I would be escorted out of the classroom and straight into the office of the program chair. If I were lucky I'd get a suspension or have to re-take the class. Not a good scenario to say the least. A gentleman's crime? Right. Maybe in Austria but not back home.

Image from
http://www.costumes.org/history/100pages/timelinepages/1920s1.htm

A walk through the Volksgarten

Today there was a break in the rain (finally!) so after church I strolled through the Volksgarten (People's garden) on my way home. I thought I'd post some pictures so that you can enjoy some of the spring scenery.

Coming from the Burgtheater (Castletheater) into the Volksgarten. The Volksgarten was built in 1820 on the site of the Burgbastei which Napoleon's army had destroyed. The garden quickly became a popular hang out spot. The last time I was in Vienna (June 2004) I came here one afternoon and couldn't find an empty bench or even a chair . The Viennese love to come here alone or with family and friends. I can understand why. There are paths to wander down, shaded walks in the summer and rows of chairs backed by walls of roses.



Some of the rose bushes and climbing rose stalks (this view is towards the Museumsquartier). Every rose has a name: Queen Elisabeth, Dreamcloud, Charlotte, Ballerina to name a few.

The largest tree in the park - a chestnut tree - this would be perfect for building a tree fort.


Violets


The Theseus Temple

Electrified

Friday afternoon I rushed home. I was free. Finally. Classes were over for the week and I could get on with the adventures I'd planned. And believe me. I had planned. During the last few days I had organized my schedule down to relatively small details. In the last class break I had drawn up a list of things I had to do within the next two hours in preparation for the evening and now it was time to put that list into action.

Once I home I rushed between the kitchen, my bedroom and the bathroom. I hurriedly ate my lunch and chopped some veggies for later. My book bag sat stocked with my textbook, notes and pens by the table at the front entrance. I slipped into the outfit I'd laid out hours before, changed my jewellery, fixed my hair and touched up my makeup. Cellphone and money in my purse, chilled water bottle, snack and school supplies I flew out the door.

Although I could walk to my destination I was in a real hurry. Every minute was precious that afternoon. The Strassenbahn was just pulling up to the stop as I arrived. Fifteen minutes and one transfer later I was there. Would it be too late? Should I just turn around and go back home? I waited anxiously for the light to change. Finally the green man appeared and winding my way through tourists soaking in the surroundings, business women striding off to lunch meetings and grandmothers chatting about their latest purchases I managed to cross the street. Rushing around the side of the building I came face to face with a long line of people. I asked the lady at the front how long she'd been waiting here - since 6:30 in the morning. "Wow, what dedication," I thought as I smiled politely and made my way to the back of the line.

For the next three hours I sat on the concrete with my Information Architecture textbook on my lap and my notes and pens in front of me. In between reading I watched people hurry past. Some were on their way to client meetings, some had just picked up their children from school, some were wandering along looking at the architecture and others were rushing to secure their spot at the end of the line. I overheard some tourists asks what soccer game everyone was lined up for. When someone in the line explained what was really going on the tourists looked baffled, "Stand in line for hours just for that? Why?" Part of me could understand their reaction, but then again, I was in line for "that" too making me just as fanatical as the tourists probably thought.

Emmi and Pia, two exchange students from Finland, came and joined me just before 16.00. They couldn't have timed their arrival better. Fifteen minutes later the doors swung open and the line started to move. Inside a roped pathway twisted and turned through hallways. We managed to get inside and soon we were sitting on marble floor - waiting - again. Pia and Emmi were planning to go to Bratislava the next day so they discussed their itinerary and I updated my day planner. All around us people were reading, eating bagged lunches, sipping tea from thermoses and those lucky enough to be sitting against a wall tried to doze. The lady in front of us was knitting an "Oberkleid" (not sure what the translates into...maybe like an apron or pinafore to go over a dress) for one of her granddaughters while her husband checked the price of his stocks in the newspaper. The atmosphere was controlled anticipation with a sprinkle of tension. How would the situation progress?

Just before 17.00 the mood started to change. People were becoming restless. I watched a middle age couple trying to pack away the remnants of their dinner - the movements were quick but jerky and almost hesitant as if they were trying to pack everything away without being noticed (next time if you feel you might have to inconspicuously pack up your dinner don't bring a something wrapped in paper - it's too loud when you're trying to put it away). A few people stood up as if to stretch but then just remained standing. Exactly at 17.00, four personnel strode into the room. Their appearance created a stir. The line jumped up, some scrambled to collapse the folding chairs they had brought, others frantically gathered up the papers they had strewn around on the floor. The next part of the adventure was about to take place.

Woosh. The ticket window flew open and line began to move forward. Step by step, person by person. Once the past the ticket window though - all restraint vanished. People sprinted down the hallway. What was the hurry? Where was everyone rushing?

To another line up that's where. Emmi, Pia and I were squished into a line up and there we stood. There was no sitting down this time. The calm patience of a few hours ago had fled. Now people were muttering and jostling. Some were even complaining to the personnel about the long waiting times. Exactly how long we waited I don't know, all of a sudden though the main doors flung open and the lines began to pour through. Emmi, Pia and I had worked out a strategy earlier, now we moved into action. We hurtled up the stairs as fast as we could and then, out into the open. Pia and I rushed down the centre and swung quickly to the left. Emmi and Annette (an Austrian girl we'd befriended while sitting in line outside) were a few steps behind us. Pia and I literally pulled them into the row behind us. Only after securing our spots did we really begin to relax and breathe. Phew. We'd made. Where were we? In the Staatsoper Parterre just off the main floor, fourth row from the front - standing room tickets to see Anna Netrebko.

How was the opera? Impressive. How was Anna Netrebko? Absolutely amazing. I can't even begin to describe the vocal range that woman has and as for the clarity and tone of her voice? Wow. With talent like that, I can begin to understand why people lined up for 31 hours just to buy tickets to her opening performance. Anna Netrebko electrified the crowd. I have never seen anything in the classical music world like that. People cheered, chanted, shouted and waved as if their lives depended upon it. The applause went on and on. After 11 curtain calls I lost count of how many times she came back out onto the stage. I loved it. If this had been North America, Anna Netrebko would have to be some trashy blond celebrity or a teenage boy band to get this kind of admiration. Everyone from the 13 year old girls close to the stage to the 40 year old power couples sitting in private boxes to the 84 year old grandmothers sitting in wheel chairs were enthralled. The hours of standing in line were worth every second.

Oh my, do I ever have stories upon stories and pictures upon pictures for you. I won't get into them now and I won't be able to get to them tomorrow as I have an important project in Information Architecture due. Sunday afternoon possibly? Perhaps Monday? Rest assured that I haven't forgotten you, I will update my blog soon.


Oh. Yes, I almost forgot...thank you for all the birthday cards and e-mails :)

A burst of independence

It was dreary Saturday in March. The rain that had been threatening all morning arrived in the afternoon. Instead of a gushing downpour, it came down slowly but consistently. During the few hours of sunshine in the morning I had managed to run some errands but now the rain and moldy grey clouds kept me from exploring the city. On top of that, I was still rather annoyed from last night. What had happened? Well it was more a case of what hadn't happened.

A few days earlier I had been lectured on the dangers of going outside alone in Vienna. Some acquaintances were positive that it wasn't safe and I should on no account try it. They, knowing the city better than me, would arrange something and we would all go out on Friday. I could play the tourist and they would be my tour guides: I was promised the sun, the moon and even the stars. Supposedly they were great tour guides and knew where to go. I would have a marvelous time.

Right. Didn't happen. Somehow, somewhere, there was a lack of communication and what meant one thing to one person meant something totally different to another. Between the three of them no one could straighten things out. I was not impressed; if you can't follow through, don't bother generating the hype.

So, not only was it gloomy outside, but I was still rather annoyed from last night. All in all a winning combination.

Unexpectedly my cell phone rang. It was Kristin, one of the girls I'd stayed with when I first arrived in Vienna. In two hours she was going to see an operetta with some friends: did I want to come along? I checked my schedule: let's see...Saturday night....hmmm....two hours from now? Hmmm...either a thrilling night folding laundry or a cultural treat? Needless to say the laundry didn't get done.


Soon after I was standing in front of the Volksoper. I had never been to the Volksoper (the opera I wrote about in February was at the Staatsoper (translation: State opera house), this was at the People's opera house). The Volksoper is smaller and not nearly as opulent as the Staatsoper.

The operetta itself was very amusing: Johann Strauss' Die Fledermaus. (Sidebar: an operetta is a lighthearted opera with a considerable amount of spoken dialogue and dance. An opera is usually more serious with much less spoken dialogue and dance.)

Anyways, the operetta was fantastic. It was all in German and although there was translation available, it was quite poor. As for the storyline imagine this: an old suitor, a prison sentence, a husband who pretends to be a French count, a maid who is invited to a party hosted by a prominent Russian official and of course, the most important part: an intricate revenge plan. On top of this, there was a good deal of humour thrown in: making fun of Viennese bureaucrats for their incompetence (hmmmm....seems to me that we do that back home too), joking about how poorly the opera house pays it's employees, etc. There were a number of other comments that had the audience laughing hysterically but, alas I didn't understand them all. I would however highly recommend this operetta - even if you can't understand every word: the costumes were perfect and the music makes you realize how much classical music you do actually know.

After the performance I squished onto the U6 with half the audience. I was lucky to find a standing spot up against one of the windows. Watching the rain run down the panes reminded me of friends back home. The evening had turned out better than I thought. Too bad it had to end so early. Or did it?

I thought long and hard during the ride home and I came to the conclusion that the night was not yet over. I was going to go out and do something still. My tour guides had promised me the sun, the moon and the stars for Friday night and I hadn't even gotten a gram of stardust. I was going to leave the promises behind and go explore on my own. "Tour guides? Who needs them anyways," I thought, "Especially when they don't show up." That decided it. I was going to go exploring and have a marvelous time doing it. I got off close to home, slipped on my cap and marched out into the rain.

First stop? A quick check up with a mirror to make sure my lip gloss was still on my lips and my mascara wasn't trickling down my cheeks. No, everything was in place and I was good to go. I sauntered (well as close to sauntering as possible on slippery cobblestones) down the street. There was a little lokal (in Viennese a place where you can sit down to eat and drink) a stone's throw from my place. I'd walked past it countless times before and decided that a visit was long overdue. As I walked towards the front door I pulled my cap a little lower and finalized my game plan: tonight I was going to be a tourist and pretend not to speak German. I was at the front door. I took a deep breath, stood up straight and reached for the door.

And almost fell backwards out into the rain. Wave upon wave of cigarette smoke assaulted my senses. I had forgotten how much Europeans love to smoke. Although the interior was warmly lit in peach hues, I'm sure that in daylight there are tears of nicotine pouring down the walls.

After a moment of adjusting to my surroundings (next time I'm packing a gas mask) I looked around. To my right was a staircase leading down to a row of tables and couches. To my left were about five high tables with bar stools clustered around them. Straight in front of me? A flat screen TV showing a fire: exactly like the fireplace that Shaw broadcasts at Christmas (those of you who spent any late nights at Comms around Christmas know what I'm talking about). On the tables tea lights flickered. Bouquets of exotic flowers (Birds of prey, orchids, Calla lilies, etc) stood in large vases on the floor as well as in smaller arrangements on tables and by the kitchen.
Apart from the deathly veil that cloaked everything in nicotine, the place exuded style and understated elegance.

I found a seat and waited to order. And waited. And waited some more. Finally the waiter came by, I hesitantly asked (in English) if I could order in English. He smiled and switched into flawless English. After listening to the evenings' specials and answering the usual "Where are you from? What are you doing here?" questions I ordered a Pina Colada (pineapple and coconut have always been two of my favourite flavours). For the next while I people watched, chatted with the waiter and enjoyed one of the best Pina Colada's I've had in a long, long time. Frothy, fruity and fabulous. Mmm.

At one point in the evening two women came up to where I was sitting. They were laughing amongst themselves and one of them leaned over and asked if I was alone. I looked confused, "English?". She laughed and switched into a New Yorker English: "You are here alone? You poor thing. Where are you from? How are you liking it in Vienna?". I was momentarily taken a back but managed to grin. After about ten minutes of conversation she invited me to join her and her friends downstairs. I protested - she was here with friends and I didn't want to intrude. She laughed and waved me off, of course I wouldn't be intruding.

Of the 30 people in the tiny basement I think about 25 were friends and acquaintances. People were packed around little tables, leaning against the wall and even standing in the aisles. There was a flurry of introductions followed by a barrage of questions: what are you doing here, where are you studying, how do you like Vienna, and so on.

The next two hours passed in a blur, my friend and I talked and talked and talked. We talked about everything from professions to politics to technology to travel. It was wonderful to speak with a European about such a wide range of topics: from my experience they are not usually so friendly and open.

As the night went on, we ended up going to another lokal. This one was a bit further from my house (about four blocks away). There another group of friends and acquaintances was waiting for us. Time passed quickly as people shared stories and jokes. It was wonderful to see how well everyone interacted and although there was a wide range of cultures represented (Austrian, Filipino, Croatian, Egyptian to name a few). The atmosphere was very festive: like some of the family reunions from my childhood.

By the time I decided to go home the rain outside had stopped. The air was cool but fresh. The five minute walk home was perfect: the streets relatively quiet, the lights from the shops reflecting in the puddles on the sidewalk and my lungs hungrily breathing in the clean air. I made it home safe and exhausted. More importantly, I'd learned a lesson: don't depend on others to show you around - go out and explore on your own. It's worth it.

One down....well, almost.

Ladies and gentlemen, it give me great pleasure (sort of) to announce I have completed my first European course (kinda...still have the final exam to write on the 22.03).
What an amazing course it was: Global aspects of integrated communication - eighteen hours of lecture in three days and it's done. The course was amazing, the instructor? Even more amazing. It seems the instructors here are extremely well qualified (as in ten years+ experience - in this case Director of Communications for a major airline, stationed in five different continents for lengthy periods of time) and well-educated.
One thing I really enjoyed about this Prof was that he knew what he was talking about. Not only did he know the subject matter well, but he also managed to keep thirty or so students interested (hard when the lecture goes on for six hours). Between mini-quizzes and group work he taught us theories and told us stories from his own experiences. In short - he was the ideal professor.
To be honest I'm sad this course is over. While I don't agree with all his reasons on why American (US) culture is the way it is and I would have liked more detail on Arab culture, I was really impressed. I love coming away from a class thinking, "Wow, that was amazing. I was challenged but absolutely loved it.". Too bad it's over.

(I hope all my other courses are that good.)

(Oh, on a side note: I have some interesting facts about human error in the cockpit....I'll post them one day for you to read and think about...they have some interesting connotations on how culture impacts mankind.)

Canadian culture

I was just asked to present on Canadian culture tomorrow afternoon. We're studying global aspects in integrated communication (fascinating...with an amazing Prof too). Any thoughts or suggestions?
Leave me a comment and let me know what you think Canadian cultural oddities are (e.g. forms of greeting, etiquette, mindset, expectations, behaviour).

Non-Canadians-living-in-Canada - please, comment too, you'll probably have insights we Canadians can't see.

Oh, and I need to hear back from you by 3 a.m. MST time. What are you doing staring at your screen? Hurry up and comment.

Yes Mom, I'm eating.

This post is dedicated to my parents: my Mom, who's been wondering if I'm remembering to eat and my Dad, who's been asking if I've been taking my vitamins. I hope this helps calm their worries.
*)Sorry about the format...I spent almost 30 minutes playing with it and it's still not right.**

My first grocery shopping trip - 02.2007
(Can you tell I'm not used to shopping for one? I'm still using the onions and garlic)


Pasta with cooked veggies and Emmentaler cheese...mmmm.














Some more pasta...my hosts have bags of Italian pasta in the pantry. Look at the colours (don't worry Mom, I didn't eat them plain...I had them with a chicken tomato sauce).


A few weeks ago my hostess and I made Apfel im Schlafrock for dinner (directly translated "Apples in Nightgown": apples covered in a thin dough, fried and then sprinkled with cinnamon and icing sugar).



One of my first dinners - 02.2007
Frankfurters with amazing mustard
Roasted veggies (tomatoes, onions, eggplant and garlic) over rice

My apologies....

I realize I have not been posting nearly often enough. I'll be adding a few posts over the next hours, but keep in mind that during the week (and sometimes on weekends) I have classes so I can't post as often.

Enjoy the next few posts. And, thanks for reading and commenting.