to the hills

A week ago my brother texted me a picture, picture number one up there, along with the words, 'Vienna is waiting for you!' I was on my way home from a gig I had left early and I sat on the overground staring at the photo, filled with longing.
 Today we climbed the tower from which the photo was taken, a familiar and favourite haunt. It's easy to put things in perspective when you're looking down on a city (a city that doesn't go on and on in an endless sprawl, a city that is surrounded by rolling hills and forests, by fields and water). Vienna is in bloom, green and fragrant and very quiet over Easter. Its woods are filled with tiny caterpillars that we picked out of each others' jumpers. Deep breaths, recuperation.

inbetween days

We have guest rooms at work for artists who work with us. A couple of weeks ago I spent a few nights in one of those rooms myself. It was strange to spend an evening in Knightsbridge; to take the bus to High Street Kensington and go to the cinema there; to be at work early. It's a different world.

I found myself at Heathrow at six in the morning, too tired to read, too excited about spending some quality time with my family. So I started watching Borgen instead. I probably watch about one TV show a year, and Borgen has fulfilled my requirement of an intelligent, female-led political drama.

I went home, and when I came back I read On Not Going Home, and it's very good.

K & N

Yesterday night we went to the Heurigen. Heurigen are sort of like Viennese beer gardens, only they're all about wine, not beer, and they're often tucked away in back gardens next to vineyards. We always go to the same Heurigen, we've been going there forever. It's one of my favourite places in Vienna, one of my favourite activities: walk up the hill, find a table, drink strawberry punch, eat spinach strudel, take it easy. When we walked back home, we sang sentimental songs and danced down the deserted streets for a bit.

'We' - that's my brothers and I. We've always been close, but ever since my annus horribilis (break ups, goodbyes of all sorts, university-related trouble, dissertation-writing and a whole lot of anxiety) these two have become even more important. 'You guys are a bit strange', that's what my brother's friend said the other day. I guess that's true, and that's what I'll miss, that sort of easy companionship that comes with knowing (and living with) someone for decades. One of the strangest things about leaving Vienna (leaving for more than just a year) is knowing that we won't be able to do silly things together on a daily basis - such as being confused about Star Trek or singing along to Take That or throwing things at each other. I have weekend visits to look forward to - but whose clothes will I borrow? And who will cut my hair when I'm gone?

family resemblance

....forever wearing matching coats (bought at the same time, on different continents) and an endless string of blue-shirt-and-cardigan combinations, mum's shoes, dad's jumpers, clothes that my brothers have grown out of.

motion

Do you remember how a certain song could mean the world to you as a teenager? I do. For me, it was There Is A Light That Never Goes Out by The Smiths. That was my song. Nowadays, things are a bit different. I still feel emotional about some music, but maybe not with the same fervour and intensity. 

 Songs can still take me back in time though, help me recall emotions of moments past. A few weeks ago I was on the tram and I started listening to this song. There I was again, on a basketball court in Durham, playing basketball by myself in the rain. I don't think I listened to this song when I wasn't playing basketball, actually. It made me feel exactly like playing basketball made me feel: independent, connected. 

 My strategy of coping with difficult situations is really simple: I look out for familiar elements, some kind of safety net that makes it easier to face the unfamiliar. My dad played basketball when I was little, my uncles played, my cousins did, at every family lunch someone would end up talking about it, and Space Jam was a huge deal when it came out. Space Jam! So when things got difficult last year - too much rain! - I bought a basketball. Just holding it in my hand brought back memories. I was never good at it, at all, but the park close to my house was always empty in the mornings and anyway, I'm too old to care about being good at sports. I played in the mornings, with my headphones on, and it felt amazing. 

Last week it suddenly got warm in Vienna, so my brother and I went and played. We're lucky to have a court just around the corner. My brother is so tall that playing against him feels much like this gif of Gandalf hugging a hobbit. There was also a good amount of giggling about our respective lack of technique. But it was so much fun. This is why I can't wait for summer.

blood

Very grateful for my family today (every day).

cats, friends, brothers

 

When my friend Devin was here the other week we went to a toy shop. I couldn't stop laughing about some of the books in there. Clearly my sense of humour hasn't evolved much since I was five; or maybe it's because I've been working with children too much. Either way, cats. Yes. My cat makes winter (and all those other things) more bearable. I've also discovered Turkish tango. Because it's that time of year when I just want to curl up with 'a good read' (i.e. nothing too long or upsetting, something gripping), I've been reading Tinker Taylor Soldier Spy. It's only the second thriller I've ever read, and unlike the first one I'm enjoying it a lot.

Urlaub dahoam

Zum Augenblicke dürft’ ich sagen: Verweile doch, du bist so schön!

For seven days I was a tourist in my hometown. I had the pleasure of sharing well-loved places, dishes and moments with that one person with whom I want to share those things, and to see family and friends happy and smiling. What a wonderful week.

garden of dreams

My mum lived in the city all her life. Last autumn I suddenly got e-mails telling me that she had decided to move to a little house in the countryside. Being a city girl through and through, and feeling like I'm wilting in the small town that I live in now, I didn't really understand. Until I saw her house, that is.
When I was in Vienna two weeks ago, I planned to spend a night at my mum's house. As soon as I woke up in the morning with the sunlight streaming in through the windows and the bookshelves tempting me, I decided to make it two nights. It was hot, the garden was beautiful, there was a hammock, a fish in a tree, a straw pig next to the aubergine plant and a little hedgehog near the gate. I sat in the shade all day and read one of my favourite books from when I was about twelve years old, this time in the original Dutch - a very satisfying experience. I felt restored to health, to life, to happiness. On days like this it is hard to understand how unhappy one might have felt just ten days earlier.
Forty-eight hours later I sat on the slowest train from Gatwick to London St. Pancras. It was raining, I was cold and miserable, the commuters looked depressed and Austria seemed like a dream that might not have happened at all.

enduring love

Oh Vienna, you're so beautiful and I miss you so much every single day.
Next week I will see you again and I will introduce your beauty and your strangeness to someone very dear to me. I can't wait.

cool kids

All-time favourites.