Here in my somewhat leftie neighborhood there's a huge banner hanging on the side of someone's house. It says:
America Sucks the Oil-Filled Dick / No War for Sanctimonious Pricks
Other than the gratuitous swearing, I don't know why this sets up my back. I'd probably be happy to see it if I were still in the States — if only as a contrast to the 5 billion American flags I saw when I was back in Little Rock during the holidays.
For me, America is like an irritating loud-mouthed relative that you're stuck with. She annoys you, you abuse her constantly, but as soon as someone outside the family talks smack about her, you inexplicably get defensive.
I am told Austrians have the highest driving fatality rate in Europe. It's not surprising, they combine the aggression of German drivers with the lack of discipline of Italians, the melancholy Slavic death wish with the English penchant for driving on the wrong side of the road. So all I could say was, tell me about it. In the middle lane minding my own business, I said. Left (passing) lane totally empty. Guy zooms up right behind me, passes me on the right, I said. Or this morning, a crazy woman on my bumper all the way into town, although I'm doing the speed limit. Then we hit traffic and slow down, she stays right on my bumper as if that's going to speed up traffic. Then when we merge into another road, she crosses three solid lines to pass me. Zoom.
Stop it, you're making my head ache. Why do you always rant like this.
Or that guy in the smokey little white compact with the refrigerator tied to his roof, did I tell you about him?
Look, I've been driving that stretch a lot longer than you have, she said. Don't you tell me. Why do you let them get to you?
Because their aggression puts my life at risk, I said. And did you see how all the daffodils are blooming out front? And in the back yard too? And that purple thing, I think it's a hyacinth?
??? she said.
And did you see how cute the little one was, sleeping with her stuffed animals?
???
It is a sunny, warm spring day here in Austria. For lunch, I had what is known here as a wood fired oven baked baguette, some soft spread cheese with garlic which I ate by tearing off parts of the baguette and scooping it out of the little container, and a bottle of some sort of fruit juice.
Then I went back to the office, and set up this new weblog all by myself in about two minutes. Arriving at a final design, I'm thinking, will take longer.
As will discovering what it's all about. I'm an American, I left the US more than twenty years ago. I'd planned to visit an Austrian friend for a month, met a woman and stayed. That's my story, in its shortest form.
Every expatriate, every emigrant has a different story and different experiences. My hope for this weblog is simply to present them. Mundane images and slices of life are just as welcome and desired as long, thoughtful analysis.
Actually, I'd prefer the former. It is only a weblog, after all, and I'm allergic to pundits.
Welcome to Lost in Transit.