Karlsplatz

There is an U-Bahn (the subway system) stop that has become a landmark for us here in Vienna. Karlsplatz station is that "downward slope" hotspot of Vienna. Every city has one. The one area of town that when you start hanging out there, you know you have hit rock bottom. There is enough drugs, alcohol, and more illegal substances than I want to know about going through just this one strech of this underground. You would be able to tell what area I am talking about when you see without knowing where it is because as soon as you get there your lungs cry in despair. Walking through this one area that only takes about two minutes to walk through will make your clothes and hair smell for the rest of the day.
I have many fond memories which I will always remember from Karlsplatz, but we had a choice incident yesterday. As we boarded the UBahn there was a man you was obviously drunk with a bottle in one hand and a glazed look on his face. When we sat down Kimberlee was telling some story from earlier in the night to Kim and I. The man is staring at Kim and nodding along to her story and showing expressions that infer that he too is part of the conversation. We are beginning to feel uncomfortable when we hear that beautiful melody by Mr. William Joel. "It's 9 o'clock on a Saturday. The regular crowd shuffles in. There's an old man sitting next to me, making love to his tonic and gin." Our Karlsplatz friend broke into song and when I say broke I mean that something had to have broken because it was awful and very loud. He is basically serenading us in the middle of this jammed metro car. Some are looking at us as if it is our fault, some are blank faced in true Austrian fashion, and some are smiling in sympathy. After he finishes the chorus he yells, "Nevada!" To which Kim responds, "Nein, California." After some drunken German murmurings we had to get off the train, but I will never forget the night I was serenaded by the the old man sitting next to me making love to his tonic and gin.

Concentration Camp

The bus ride to Salzburg was a fairly typical one. As usual, my friend Megan and discussed all of the "drama" that we get wrapped up in.
"Why doesn't he get it? Is he blind?"
"He is so hard to read! What do you think he meant when he said that?"
"Are you worried about Jim and Pam getting together so soon? Because I am!"
"I just don't know if I should get her something from Vienna or Italy."
"Is McDreamy really going to leave Meredith?"
These are the kinds of problems that were occupying our thoughts on that bus ride, until we got to Mathausen. Mathausen is a labor camp is located about an hour outside of Salzburg. We heard stories about men who had been forced to leave their homes to come to the camp without any knowledge of what became of their families. We saw the gate they entered after being crammed into trains and trucks. Later, we walked through the gas chambers and execution rooms which was the most creepy thing I have ever done. I am not using creepy in the "The Sixth Sense is so creepy" way but in the sense that human beings killed other human beings by the roomful there. The last leg of the tour at Mathausen takes you to this gorgeous cliff that overlooks a little river. The cliff has a set of stairs cut out of it that has more steps than I have ever seen. This is where the prisoners were forced to carry the large boulders up to the camp and if they were too weak by the time they got to the top of the stairs they were unburdened from the rock and then thrown off the cliff into that sweet, little river. As Megan and I walked down the stairs, we talked about how stupid we are. My main thought as I walked through that camp was how lucky I am to have my big concerns be about tv shows and guys. This whole trip has taught me a lot about myself and that expereince was definitely one that helped.

And now, blog thoughts...

It has been quite a while since I have written anything here which has recently made me very sad. The reason it has made me sad is because I am coming to the halting relization that my days here in Europe are numbered and the numbers are getting ever so close to zero. I have never been very good at keeping a journal, so this blog is acting as my journal. Pathetic, isn't it? Three months in Europe and I all have to show for it is some boring travel log entries. I have had a lot of blog-worthy moments as of late so I am going to try and recount some of these over the next week or so. Please keep in mind that my thoughts are not anything grand but just things that I want to write down for my own benefit. Sorry, if I am being selfish, dear readers, but you'll get over it...