The Table

Apparently the dictionary experts at Mariam Webster have established the Word of the Year for 2023: “authentic.” (Hmm, somehow putting it in quotation marks makes the word seem less itself.) No doubt this choice says something about our world today (as it is or as we might wish it to be), but maybe it is at least as interesting to think about what one’s personal word of the year might be. (I can think of several good candidates; how about you?)

Or, perhaps it is equally entertaining to brainstorm an “un-word” of the year. Believe it or not, there is such a thing in Austria. (For 2023, it’s “Kanzlermenü,” poking fun at a statement made by the current chancellor.)

But what about a question of the year? Mine would come from Psalm 78, where there’s a line that’s been on my mind a lot lately: “Can God spread a table in the wilderness?”

In its original context, it’s clear that the wandering Israelites pose this query in a spirit of cynical doubt rather than genuine inquiry (although they probably thought they were being “authentic”), and the psalm as a whole offers an uncomfortably clear word against unbelief and stubborn forgetfulness. Nevertheless, God apparently takes such questions seriously: The psalmist recounts how again and again God’s response to his people is not only rather terrifying discipline but also truly outlandish provision. (And the psalm ends on a strong note of hope: God’s giving his oft-beleaguered and always-beloved people a shepherd to guide and care for them.)

Dangling metaphors notwithstanding, this “wanderer about Wien” wants to close out 2023 by pondering that same question asked by the post-Exodus people of God: “Can God spread a table…?” Here’s my effort at a partial answer to that question, potluck-style:

Work

The year 2023 began as 2022 ended, with the job hunt. Searching for a job is never fun, I guess, but it was extra stressful trying to find an employer willing to sponsor a visa and to wait for the slow bureaucratic wheels to turn.

Occasionally the tedium of scrolling through job postings was relieved by a bit of humor, including ads

• in the culture/tourism sector for a conductor of a tourist train (Bummelzug) or for a stall manager for the Lipizzaner horses of the Spanish Riding School,
• in the NGO world for grandiose positions like “Space Economy Consultant” (for a UN partner organization) or “Earth Observation Specialist” (for Doctors without Borders),
• or within Austrian bureaucracy for positions showcasing the glories of German compound nouns (how would you like to work for the Verbrauchergesundheitsinformationssystem [“consumer healthcare information system”]?).

None of those jobs did I apply for, but I did apply for about 80 others, with about 20 interviews resulting. Exhausting.

In March I started working part-time (still on my student visa status) for a small, private, semi-online, business-focused university; in July, after the actual work visa was approved, I shifted to full-time. The university has its base in a town near Salzburg, where it is housed in a small castle.

The Vienna location is in a “planned development project” on the outskirts of Vienna: a mini, self-contained city that feels quite artificial — but on clear days the views from the office are pretty great.

It’s been a significant adjustment, as just about everything is different to my previous job:

• part-time vs. full-time,
• super flexible vs. very set work hours,
• non-profit vs. for-profit,
• primarily English-speaking vs. primarily German-speaking,
• being the only woman on the team vs. being on a team that is almost entirely female,
• being the “expert” in my area of responsibility vs. being daunted by the motto “learning by doing.”

After nine months, I am grateful to have settled into a steady routine — and very thankful for my two great workmates in our local office. The telephone is still highly interruptive to other tasks, but it no longer feels so threatening; I don’t relish the sheer number of hours staring at a computer screen, but there is opportunity for lots of background chatter with my colleagues and for some degree of face-to-face interaction with students (admission counseling, etc.); and the university location means a pretty long commute, but the distance does offer a chance to read, catch up on phone messages, stare vacantly out the train window when I’m too tired for anything else — or the gift of bookending the work day with an hour of cycling each way!

Of course, outside of 8-to-5, a lot else has filled 2023:

Tyrol / Hiking

In May, I spent a long weekend with three friends (and two dogs) in Tyrol. We got in some low-key hiking and a lot of conversation.

In July, I spent several days again in Tyrol, hiking hut-to-hut with friend Stefanie — now our fourth multiday hiking adventure over about ten years of friendship.

The first evening brought in a big storm, with dramatic clouds providing the after dinner entertainment.

Unfortunately the weather prediction was alarming enough that the hut manager strongly advised our foregoing the next day’s tour (the most dramatic of the planned route!). So, along with most of the other hikers, we opted for a “mountain taxi” the next morning, which brought us rather unglamorously to our next destination.

However a window of clearer weather opened in the afternoon, and Stefanie and I traipsed off to a not-too-distant lake, where we enjoyed a leisurely picnic lunch and even a (much less leisurely) swim. We got back to the hut with a touch of panic, as the sunny skies had disappeared and lightning and thunder were too close for comfort.

The next day was partly through a military training zone — a very weird feeling. We were glad to have opted out of one tantalizing side trail: Not long after we chose the alternate path, we saw that the ridge/peak in the other direction was the site of an afternoon training exercise (you can just see the helicopter in the third photo).

Although in the Austrian mountains you are never really that far from civilization, the vistas between huts generally offer a glorious reprieve from anything city-like — instead, vast stretches of green turf or rocky heights, lofty blue skies or close-pressing, enclosing clouds. There’s really not much better than being above tree line!

There is also the hope around each bend of running into a marmot, chamois, or other wildlife. This trip included a bit more dampness than some other years, but that brought out these funny little “dinosaurs” in droves.

Part of the fun of hiking in Austria is the accommodations in the “huts” along the way. They are each unique — varying in size, degree of ambiance, personality of hut managers, quality of cuisine, etc. This trip, on the last evening of the tour, we definitely hit the jackpot — both in terms of warm-hearted hospitality and a great kitchen crew!

The pleasure of the setting was much enhanced not only by having a pretty grueling day behind us but also by the fun of having made some trail friends over the past days (two French-speaking Swiss women and a German couple).

The last morning a few of us got up at a ridiculous hour to watch the sunrise from the nearby peak. Early and chilly, but definitely worth it!

After breakfast — which was quite a spread —

it was down, down, down to the train station. We six split company, and the Swiss gals and I walked the whole way, the other three sparing themselves a bit of the relentless decent by catching a ski lift part of the way.

If you look really closely in the second photo below, you can see the tiny chapel where we watched the sunrise in the morning!

…Besides the longer hiking trip in Tyrol, there have also been a number of day hikes or walks with friends closer to home.

Visitors

In late summer, Hannah and Peter visited for two and a half weeks!

It had been five years since their last visit to Vienna, so it was very special to host them in a new-since-then apartment, introduce them to my favorite café, take walks/hikes in and around the city, and especially spend time with some of the friends they are constantly hearing about. Full days in Vienna!

Together we also ventured to some new places. First, three days in Slovenia:

Oh, the nerve-wracking 18% uphill grade in a standard transmission rental car without especially much get-up-and-go (thank you, Peter, for driving!), oh the countless narrow winding roads.

Oh, the beckoning mountain vistas…

…and the stunningly clear river water,

…and quaint farmland!

After the foray into Slovenia, we finished off our trip with two nights along the “Südsteirische Weinstraße,” the little “Tuscany” of Austria.

Here we were introduced to wine-tasting culture in Austria — conversations at family-run wineries, where our curiosity was welcomed and we learned more than we could possibly digest about types of grapes and methods of processing and storage and even the subtle influence of hillside altitude.

There was also tasty local cuisine to try (and don’t miss the charming “hat” for the soft-boiled egg at breakfast)!

What a place to relax!

After a last couple days together back in Vienna, Hannah and Peter left mid-September, and about a week later my cousin (cousin’s daughter) from New Zealand (via the Netherlands) arrived for a visit. We had last seen each other when she was six years old, so I was not quite sure what to expect or if I could be a cool enough “cousin-aunt” for a week. …It was a splendid time together!

Cosette was game for quite a bit of exploring on her own while I was at work (taking the train for a day hike, borrowing my bike, exploring on foot), and in the evenings we found lots to talk about — from recounting the day’s adventures, to talking about living cross-culturally, to sharing about deeper things of life and faith.

At the end of the week, we took a little trip to the closest mountain (sort of a foothill of the Alps farther west), so that Cosette could have an Austrian hut experience. Hearing Cosette describe the hike as “epic” was very gratifying indeed. And, despite the weather predictions, we were spared getting wet, and even made it home in good time to hunt up some quintessential Wiener Schnitzel for dinner.

…Also in September, my former flatmate Jessica, who moved back to D.C. several years ago, and also a cherished “uncle” and “aunt,” who retired back to the U.S. last year, were all in town. Such visits come and go so quickly, but it was special to reconnect in person while enjoying the autumnal sunshine or sharing a meal together.

Work … Play

In October I had a work trip (in connection with our international office) to visit a partner university in Split, Croatia. Let’s just say there was a lot more free time than I was expecting, and I also didn’t know to expect still summer (swimming) weather!

I enjoyed conducting a daily quality control of Croatian gelato (wow) and soaking up the old town vibe by meandering the narrow streets and sketching in the main square.

One afternoon offered the chance to board a huge ferry to the nearest island, where I took a long walk — enjoying the scent of pines, noting the variety of exotic trees (olive, lemon, lime, pomegranate, kiwi), marveling at the blue-green of the water lapping the rocky shoreline, taking a refreshing dip in a narrow bay.

Another afternoon I joined a smaller group in a speedboat for more swimming and for a visit to another island.

The last evening (which was also Mom’s birthday) I splurged on a fancy restaurant. It was fun to catch glimpses of the chefs at their work behind the high counter that separated the seating area from the kitchen. I savored each course and quite enjoyed the novel experience.

Affirmations

In October the University of Vienna Catholic theology department hosted a semester-opening event that also included an awards ceremony. I was very happy to receive an award for the best master’s thesis in religious studies for 2022.

Also in October I received the happy news that I passed C2 German, which in the Common European Framework of Reference for Languages is the highest level for which you can take an exam. While I feel like I have a ton of room for improvement, it’s a good confidence and CV boost to now have official permission to say that I’m “fluent” in German.

Year’s End

Now Christmas is upon us! We’ve had some early snow here, so that has definitely aided the holiday cheer — as have a couple of choir concerts, visits to a few Christmas markets, and a tiny bit of holiday baking. On Friday I fly to the U.S. and am very much looking forward to celebrating together with family Stateside!

In writing this post, I have been challenged to reflect on the many post-able moments of the past months, to savor and return thanks for the daily bread — the gracious feast — that has been provided.

Speaking of victuals, and to end on a note of humor, Hannah snapped a photo of the following bizarre historical account in a tiny town we passed through in Slovenia.

Wishing you smoother travels and better nourishment, and true refreshment for body and soul, in 2024.

Fall and Winter 2022

To continue the travel theme from the last two posts, the fall included two further trips!

Prague

At the end of October, I took the train (4 hours or so) to Prague to meet up with my cousin Ben, who lives in New Zealand but was on a work trip. Prague is a very beautiful city for its architecture and river, although the old city at least seems to have fallen prey to a lot of uncreative commercialism that caters to the tourist hoards. But the main point was catching up with family, so any sights along the way were icing on the cake. We had just Saturday afternoon and most of Sunday to visit, but we made the most of it: walking and talking our way through town!

Ireland

Already around my birthday last year, I realized I wanted to do something special and out-of-the-ordinary for my 40th birthday this November. It proved to be the perfect opportunity to finally visit dear friends in Dublin.

My impressions of Ireland were very positive: The green countryside, the friendly people, the (unseasonably) warm weather. I found it funny to be in a foreign country but still speaking English, and also to be in the British Isles but still paying with euros. And, even though I knew to expect it, the whole driving-on-the-left-hand-side-of-the-road thing was really weird, both from the perspective of a confused pedestrian at a crosswalk and also from a front-seat perch in a double-decker bus, huge picture window in front of me, wondering how we were going to avoid all the little cars down below!

The nine days in Ireland were full! There was time for rich conversation, the chance to share in family life with a lively three-year-old, the opportunity to visit Jez and Sharon’s church and get to meet a few people in their international congregation, and the fun of a good bit of exploring in Dublin and beyond.

On my own, I enjoyed jogs in the park right across the street, got an introductory feel for the city by lots of walking, spent part of an afternoon reading Tolkien in a traditional pub, visited two museums (Emigration Museum and the National Gallery), and also got up early one morning for an online job interview.

I visited the absolutely splendid gardens of Powerscourt, which National Geographic heralds as one of the top ten gardens in the world! Although I was there well into autumn, when many flowers were no longer at their prime, the gardens were absolutely enchanting. Most wonderful were the trees of all sorts, some very old and grand.

Together with Sharon, I enjoyed an evening in the famous Temple Bar area – first listening to a bit of lively traditional music with a pint of Guinness, then diving into a platter of fish and chips and good conversation. Speaking of the latter, Jez and Sharon are great conversationalists – not just in the sense of having interesting things to talk about, but also being willing to speak honestly and deeply, to wrestle with ideas, to ask good questions.

As a four-some, we spent two special days in western Ireland. First, we visited a well-preserved castle for a medieval feast! While such an event could have been incredibly cheesy, instead it was utterly delightful: With just the right measure of “suspended disbelief,” we were ushered into another world for a couple hours, with lovely music (harp, violin, voices), mead and hearty fare, and even friendly tablemates (in our case, a Californian couple celebrating their honeymoon).

The next morning, we continued on to the coast to see the iconic Cliffs of Moher. Apparently there used to be open access to the cliffs, but now a sensible wall has been added. (That said, I was tempted to ignore the “don’t go beyond this point” sign, in truly Holder style, but thought better of it in this case.) The water was so far below, you couldn’t hear any of the surf against the rocks. Very grand.

On the way home, we went on what felt like a wild goose chase to find The Burren, a national park sporting unusual rock formations. It seemed hard to believe that the area really existed, as signage was minimal and the green landscape seemed to show no signs of change. Nevertheless, suddenly we drove into a completely different landscape, with a rocky floor that looked like dried, cracked mud and hillsides in the distance appearing like a sunken cake. Fascinating!

Also on the route back to Dublin, we accidently came across monastery ruins, complete with a tower built for escaping from marauding Vikings. What a surprise to discover this historic landmark!

For my actual birthday (preceding the birthday trip to the west coast), Jez and Sharon really went out-of-their-way and over-the-top to make it very special! Sharon and I went out for brunch, where I tried my first “full Irish breakfast,” followed by cake and song, followed by fireside coffee.

In the afternoon, there were balloons and prosecco.

I had a nice long talk with Hannah and Peter and baked a cake (Mitford’s “Esther’s Orange Marmalade Cake”). After the little guy had supped and gone to bed, we adults feasted on fondue. What a day!

And what a great trip!

Job Hunting and Life in Vienna

Although travels make good blog post material, the main task of the autumn has been job hunting. For the visa option designed for recent graduates of Austrian tertiary institutions, I need to find a full-time position that corresponds to my level of education (but not necessarily field of study). Or at least that’s the official word – no need here to follow the rabbit trail of what one might be tempted to label as bureaucratic obscurantism. In terms of types of jobs, I’ve mostly been looking for assistant positions of some sort in university or NGO contexts, trying to find some points of intersection with my most recent studies and work experience. By year’s end, I have submitted about 65 applications and have had (or have scheduled) about 10 interviews, all for positions here in Vienna. I have met some pleasant people along the way, but it’s tiring and sometimes rather depressing work. After a much-needed week’s break between Christmas and New Year’s, I’ll pick up the search again on Monday.

When not job hunting, I’ve been doing freelance editing work, reading, podcast listening (Bible Project, Christianity Today), working at processing some of the challenges of the past year(s), and spending time with friends.

One treasured feature of the past months (and years!) has been singing with a community choir. This fall we performed Mendelssohn’s Elijah, which was a great delight (even if I joined the Covid club in the days to follow). This fall the board has been looking for a new director to replace out much-loved conductor who recently had to step down from the position. The search process has included having five candidates conduct a rehearsal, each with his or her own very different style and personality. I’m curious who will be selected!

I’ve also enjoyed time outdoors. I’m still cycling most of the time, but there have also been opportunities for a few hikes with friends.

There was a beautifully autumnal day north of Vienna along the Danube.

And there was a very wintry hike an hour or so south of town in the eastern foothills of the Alps. The temperature was indeed chilly (but with the energy crisis, maybe we’re all getting used to colder temperatures at home, as well), and the icy patches gave way to deeper snow on the plateau above. But we managed to stay at least warm with enthusiasm, and the vistas were grand.

Christmas celebrations were packed into four days of varied festivities. On the 24th, I joined friends for a lovely evening around a big festive table. The setting itself was elegant, but the conversation and laughter informal. After the turkey dinner, we sang Christmas carols and gathered round the tree: There were not just real candles on the tree, but also sparklers!

On the 25th, my friend Anne and I attended an early service at a very traditional Anglican church. It was a fine experience overall, but I didn’t realize ahead of time that a “read service” meant there would be no music at all. That was rather disappointing, but at least we provided 40% of the congregation in attendance (not including the three clergy conducting the service). The church was probably packed for the very festive mid-morning service, but by that time we had walked home and had brunch preparations well underway! Anne stayed all day, and we took a walk, talked up a storm, eventually made dinner.

On the 26th and 27th, Anne and I visited friends from church who live south of Vienna, on the outskirts of the small town of Eisenstadt (famous for Joseph Haydn, who worked there as a composer under the patronage of the Esterhazy family). It was lots of fun to get to know Márton and Kata better, as well as their two very sweet children!

Year-End Ruminations

Here it is New Year’s Eve: a morning hike (the photo below will have to suffice, or I won’t manage to get this post finished today!), some house-cleaning, and the anticipation of a game night with friends.

In wrapping up this post, I want to take a moment to acknowledge that this year has been full: full of wonderful travels, rich times with friends, nourishing books and podcasts, and hard-won accomplishment. But the year has also held what seems like more than its share of difficult decisions, unanswered questions, and heartache.

One of the hardest things about blogging (not to mention life in general), is the elusive art of realistic representation. The very genre seems to obscure the fact that the trajectory of life is usually shaped less by the extraordinary than by the common: routines for starting and ending the day, small-talk with acquaintances and heart-to-heart conversations with a friend over coffee, unremarkable duties of study or housekeeping or paid work or job hunting, habits of half-conscious reflection that nurture either bitterness or thankfulness, and fleeting – yet time-stopping – gifts of beauty (that cloud! this flower!).

It’s good to look back over 2022 and to mark the manifold gifts, big and small, with which the year has been graced. At the same time, as tomorrow brings not just a new day but also the dawning of a new year, I find myself needing that “sun of righteousness [rising] with healing in its wings.” Looking ahead, I hope that 2023 will be a year marked by growth in grace – of deeper trust in God’s expansive and particular goodness and of cooperation with the Spirit of Jesus in cultivating gentleness, gratitude, hope.

Summer Travels: Austria

After just two nights back in my flat in Vienna after returning from eight weeks in the U.S., I found myself once again heading out of town, although this time staying in Austria and traveling by train.

Vorarlberg

I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve traveled to Austria’s farthest western province, which is wedged between Germany, Switzerland, Lichtenstein, Italy, and the Austrian province of Tirol, with the huge Lake Constance (over 500 square kilometers/200 square miles in surface area) on its west and with mountains galore. It’s famous for great skiing, for strong cheeses, and for its distinctive dialect (far more similar to the nearby Swiss German than to the other Austrian dialects). It’s also home to some of my favorite Austrians! : )

So, it was grand to get to visit not only such a beautiful place again, but especially to share in celebrating a dear friend’s wedding! Arriving the day before, I joined a group of women working on table decorations – to complement the beautiful décor the bride had already made from dried grasses and flowers she had gathered over the preceding months. While we worked outdoors on mini flower arrangements for the tables and the bride arranged her bouquet, inside the groom’s mother, sister, and other relatives were cooking up a storm – wonderful-smelling dishes from their Eritrean heritage.

The wedding on Saturday was held in a very old, small chapel in a neighboring town, followed by a beautiful reception that included Eritrean and European traditions. I loved that no one seemed to be in a hurry, and that the bride and groom took time to really visit with their guests. The party lasted till the early hours of the morning, but at midnight there was a particularly fun Vorarlberg-ish highlight: a collection of marvelous local cheeses stacked up like a wedding cake, a true “cheese cake”!

I stayed a couple extra days in Vorarlberg and had the chance to join another friend for a day’s walk and conversation (and fun observing paragliders).

Then I headed a couple hours east to go hiking with yet another friend, who was working for the summer at one of the mountain huts.

Tirol

After Stefanie picked me up from a bus stop in town (i.e., small village), we drove as far up to “her” hut as we could go, then had a very short jaunt on foot to the hut, where we made sure all our stuff was in order for three days of hiking. We set out around lunchtime, with splendid weather and stunning views.

Our first stretch of trail was highlighted by interesting rock formations (like this “Indian chief”), a dusty gray-green lake that provided a nice spot for lunch,

…a steep incline that included a section that made me really pretty nervous (the first ladder was only attached on one side, so it swung out at an alarming angle if you didn’t get your first foot-hold quite right),

and then up to a pass via views of ice and snow.

By mid-to-late afternoon we had arrived at our hut, where we were greeted by the resident ibex. He seemed to like showing off who was boss!

At the hut, we enjoyed views from the terrace of a glacier, and also appreciated the incredibly friendly hut staff (it didn’t hurt that Stefanie worked at the “next-door” hut, so we got a bit of special treatment)!

We ate supper indoors once it got cold outside; check out the whimsical apple strudel presentation!

The next day’s weather forecast was less than charming, so we started out early in the fog, hoping to beat the rain to the next hut. If we arrived by late morning, we could either have a lazy afternoon there or consider pressing on, depending on the weather.

We walked sometimes between layers of cloud, sometimes in the fog, and met a few sheep along the way. The route included a good stretch of cable-accompaniment – looking closely in the last photo of the collection below, you can see two hikers in red jackets, and the cable section that stretches almost to the bottom of the photo.

Although fog and clouds were constantly overhead or rising up from below, we did catch a few glimpses of a glacier.

However, the big surprise of the morning was coming across a fellow hiker, a woman about our age, who was sitting in the middle of the path and apparently taking a break. However, as we approached, we realized instead that she was injured: One eye was covered with blood, and she was sitting there trying to maintain composure after a scary tumble off the path that gave her at very least a gash in the head. It was a fortunate encounter – Stefanie previously worked as a nurse, so she could offer some basic medical assistance. Finally, we headed on together – Stefanie and I in the direction of our hut, along with our new friend, who was fit enough to backtrack in the same direction, take a ski lift down to the valley, and get to the nearest hospital. It was a rather sobering experience that put me on edge the rest of the trip!

The afternoon at the hut was unsensational, with rain coming down outside. We played a bit of Hand and Foot and enjoyed chatting with fellow hikers over dinner.

The next day was still cloudy and damp, but at least it wasn’t rainy. We set out fairly early, because we had quite a long way to go and a single afternoon bus option to catch (that would take us back to the town where Stefanie had picked me up two days early, and from which we needed to hike back up to “her” hut).

The first stage took a bit longer than we hoped, but was uneventful. After a break, we continued in the direction of the pass we had to cross to get to the next valley (with the bus stop). After passing a single person going the opposite direction, we really seemed to be the only two people on the trail, with an almost moonscape of gray and reddish rocks surrounding us, jagged peaks above, and anything but a clear idea of where we were going to cross the ridge. And time was running – the sign marking four hours to the bus stop was rather discouraging, as we no longer had four hours before the bus was scheduled to come.

We pressed on as fast as we could, but getting up towards 3000 meters (9000 plus feet) we were feeling the altitude and just plain tired. One spot seemed to merit some cable assistance, but none had been installed. So we were left to fend for ourselves and try not to think about the possibility of slipping. Finally at the top, the clouds cleared just for a moment, revealing a stunning glimpse of cold glacial water collecting below a span of ice that was scored in fascinating patterns.

With the fog rolling back in, we hurried down the other side – only to find that we’d arrived on the sunny side of the ridge. That provided some renewed gusto! We even found ourselves enough ahead of schedule to take a moment to refresh our toes in a trailside stream!

We realized that, even with the bus dropping us off in the next village far quicker than we could have walked there, we weren’t going to make it back to the hut during the dinner hour. So, we ate pizza in a local restaurant and then on tired legs and with very full stomachs climbed back up to the hut and to bed!

The next morning we took a short, steep walk together; I intended to go further when Stefanie turned back to report in for work, but I was pretty nervous about the exposed terrain, especially after our encounter with the injured hiker a couple days earlier. So, I turned around and tried a second trail, but managed to lose my way and end up with a very steep scramble that didn’t get me any further than a rock face. So, I took a very steep, long scramble back down to a frolicking stream, forded it (as a daughter of Ron Holder should!), and then met up with a proper trail – finally – that could take me to a lake.

The afternoon was memorable – stunning views, a friendly French retiree to chat with by the lake, and a further scramble on my own up to the glacier above (with plenty of run-off streams to jump across). Returning to the lake, I found myself alone with a 360-degree panorama of Creation as a backdrop for thinking about life in general and the unknowns of life back in Vienna (job hunting, etc., etc.). I knew I couldn’t put off facing those unknowns many days longer.

On the way down to the hut, I saw another beautiful ibex and also enjoyed a foot bath in a stream.

Dinner and conversation were delightful, and the next day I headed back to the valley to catch a series of busses and train back to Vienna. A good end to a full summer.

Summer Travels: U.S.

This past summer I spent two months traveling – most of that time in the eastern U.S., as well as a shorter jaunt to western Austria. It was a wonderful opportunity to catch up with (some!) family and friends, spend time outdoors, and enjoy a break between finishing my studies last spring and beginning job hunting in earnest this fall.

Washington, D.C.

I spent the first ten days Stateside in D.C. with my former flatmate Jessica. Actually, our visit started before I even got to the U.S., since she had a work trip to Brussels, and I discovered I could make Brussels my layover just as easily and economically as any other option. It was a really novel experience flying together, and we landed just in time to celebrate her birthday the following day – celebration that included a splendid game of ultimate frisbee with an eclectic group of D.C. professionals on the Washington Mall in 90+ degree midday heat and humidity, followed by (after showers and a costume change) high tea at a downtown hotel.

It was a real treat, not to mention a social whirlwind, to get introduced to Jessica’s world in D.C. I’ve heard so much about her job, church, and friends there, so it was good to put names and people and places together. In ten days, we managed to attend four church services/studies, participate in a Nigerian-American wedding celebration, enjoy a picnic-for-two and several larger social events, watch fireworks from the Mall on July 4^th, and work in three hikes.

The hikes included the popular Old Rag (which culminates in a splendid rock scramble), as well as a totally rain-soaked outing (the trail was wet, the trees were wet, we were wet!), in which we saw a copper head snake eating lunch. I was hiking without glasses (because they would have been useless in the rain), so things were a bit out of focus. Perhaps all the more reason that I shocked Jessica with a wild scream as I caught sight of the snake directly by the trail just as I stepped past!

On the days Jessica had to work, I caught up with other friends who used to live in Vienna, visited the Museum of African American History and the National Portrait Gallery, and toured the marvelous Hillwood Estate (gorgeous gardens that included exotic greenhouse plants and a cutting garden that was alive not only with an array of colorful old-fashioned flowers, but also with bright yellow goldfinches, plus a house filled with exquisite china and other valuables).

At the end of the visit, we drove north to meet Hannah and Peter half-way between D.C. and Lancaster County. The second phase of the summer began – based in Manheim, Pennsylvania, but taking Peter and Hannah and me also to Tennessee and Maine!

Pennsylvania

The weeks in Pennsylvania were filled diversely. We shared many quiet hours at home – sitting together for morning coffee on the front porch, reading in the hammock on the upstairs terrace, harvesting cherry tomatoes (from vine to mouth!) and other garden goodness, playing games (darts with Peter, a favorite word game with Hannah, Ingenious and Hand and Foot as a three-some, often accompanied by some drinkable invention of Peter’s), watching a couple good movies and trying to catch me up on two favorite TV series, taking walks in town. Since all of us like to cook, there was no shortage of good food (often featuring home-grown produce): tomato preserves, roasted carrots and beets, cherry pie, two-ingredient biscuits, lemon meringue pie, pizza, etc., etc.

There were also various tasks to complete: Peter worked out-of-town a significant portion of the time, Hannah tackled framing for her upcoming 70-piece art show, and I took a small stab at job applications (rather pitiful how stressful that felt, at least in light of the dozens of further applications sent out this fall).

To celebrate my graduation, Peter and Hannah cooked a delectable meal, followed by going out for very special cocktails.

To celebrate Peter’s sister’s birthday, we took a rather upscale picnic to a local vineyard for an outdoor concert.

While Peter was away on work trips, Hannah and I visited with local friends, took a walk on a nearby rail trail, participated in a C.S. Lewis book club meeting that Hannah hosted, and took a few outings further afield:

…a trip to Harrisburg to immerse ourself in a huge new/used/antique book store (don’t miss Harrisburg Midtown Scholar if you are ever in the area!); we also spontaneously joined a fantastic tour of the state capitol building.

…an afternoon in the town of State College with our former piano teacher; a wonderful visit, catching up over lunch, meandering our way through a gorgeous public garden, and also trying out the locally famous ice cream.

…and a beautiful woodsy hike along a series of waterfalls and cascades that had something of East Tennessee about it.

Tennessee

The time in Pennsylvania was punctuated by other travels – first to Tennessee. I hadn’t been to Tennessee since 2019, and before that 2016. Returning to my home town comes with really mixed emotions. On the one hand, I feel almost no homesickness for the place itself, and the immediate family who most defined “home” there have moved elsewhere – whether Hannah having relocated to Pennsylvania, or Mom and Dad being “away from the body and at home with the Lord.” On the other hand, so much of my life has been spent in Knoxville, and I cherish many ongoing relationships with family and friends there! Reconnecting well in the space of one week and after a long absence was both challenging and a gift.

We spent the first couple nights with family friends, filling the time with laughter, talking about books, reconnecting with mutual friends over a festive meal, and outdoor activities. They live right along the Tennessee River and took us water skiing; after an exhilarating five-mile run on the water, I paid for the fun for days after with some of the sorest muscles I’ve ever experienced – but it was definitely worth it.

The remainder of the week we stayed with my childhood friend Jessica – we met at age five! – and her husband and two young boys. In addition to enjoying time to catch up with them over several days, we were out and about a great deal, meeting up with about 15 other individuals or couples for short visits. Although such visits don’t necessarily make for thrilling blog posting, they tell a longer story of family history and in some cases decades-long friendship!

One particularly noteworthy afternoon was spent at our old house, getting acquainted with its current owners and taking a thorough tour of house and yard. Some of their improvements were a bit mind-blowing (a bathroom where Dad’s study had always been?), others we could have wished we’d thought of or managed to execute years ago. Although it was not entirely easy to visit what used to be home, it meant a lot to see their pleasure in owning and improving the place. We even left with some home-canned beans from the garden plot in the back yard!

Speaking of gardens: The evening we arrived back in Pennsylvania from Tennessee, Hannah and Peter made a bee-line for their garden. Before any proper unpacking from the trip, they were busy investigating the state of tomatoes, beans, and other delectables! It was fun to see and enter into their delight!

Maine

Hannah and Peter have by now made multiple trips to Maine, building on Peter’s decades of family vacations there. It was my first time that far northeast in the U.S., and a splendid introduction to a beautiful area. We stayed in the Weston family’s cottage – beautifully rustic, with a central fireplace offering cozy comfort in front of a crackling fire every night, packed bookshelves proffering titles to match any mood (I settled comfortably into a Dorothy Sayer’s mystery series), and a big upstairs porch looking down the hill and past a few other houses to the sea and two nearby islands. In front of the islands sailboats and lobster boats passed frequently; further out, occasionally large ships moved silently across the deeps; boats or no boats, the sea was fascinating, with its changing colors and tides and moods.  I chose the bedroom where I could actually see the ocean from bed!

We played games by the fireplace and pulled out binoculars and even a telescope to observe the moon and locate the moons of Jupiter. I picked blackberries from the back yard for pies. Peter plied his grilling skills to more than one delectable meal, and Hannah concocted cinnamon rolls and other delights. We spent an evening with Peter’s dad and oldest sister, whose travels to Maine overlapped ours by a few days.

Hannah and I visited the nearby seaside towns to browse through bookshops and art galleries and a wonderful museum collection of three generations of Wyeth art.

We also did a good bit of kayaking, probably the highlight for me of Maine activities. We made circles in the cove to ooh and aah over the starfish beneath us, plied the gentle waves out to a long breakwater and two lighthouses (seeing a couple seals along the way), gawked at a luxury yacht hailing from the Marshall Islands,

…and paddled out to explore the nearby islands and back again to the mainland as the Victory Chimes was sailing past.

As a three-some, we picnicked on the end of the nearly kilometer-long breakwater, watching lobster boats check their traps and a fishing vessel haul in a big catch.

We took a day trip to an old fort…

…and then to the nearby beach, where an island turned into a peninsula at low tide, offering the perfect spot for a picnic on the rocky outcropping and then some frisbee-throwing on the sandbar.

We drove to a lighthouse…

…and visited another rocky beach (where Peter had proposed to Hannah) where Hannah and I sat and read while Peter fished.

And we visited the most ramshackle used book shop imaginable – a veritable maze of books in a shack perched about a dozen feet from the edge of the sea, windows open to the fresh salt air.

Of course, eventually the holiday had to come to an end, even if the sea and coastal life could offer a life-time of entertainment.

I loved watching the sea – blue-green or gray, calm or wind-ruffled, empty or boat-traversed. Or, as one evening, composed of lines of gray-pink and enigmatic blue, intersecting in complex, ever-changing, ever-expanding geometric patterns, the purplish haze at the horizon widening with the encroaching dusk. Or, another day, together with the sky a vibrant color palette of calm grandeur:

Our homeward travels were planned to include an overnight visit with cousins in Connecticut. Sadly, they came down with the flu; so, we stopped for an hour’s visit on their back patio, glad to at least visit briefly!

The last few days in Pennsylvania included celebrating Peter and Hannah’s 6^th anniversary and churning homemade ice cream for friends coming round to dinner. And then I was back to Austria after a very full and special summer Stateside.

New Horizons

Ending the Student Era

For basically the entire time I have lived in Austria I have been a student – first at the University of Music and Performing Arts and then the last eight years at the University of Vienna. There is a certain irony to this: I still remember walking across campus as an undergrad student, having just turned in my last paper, and feeling as if I were waltzing across a cloud. Such relief! Never again would I have to write a college essay! …A couple years later, however, I somehow ended up at the University of Tennessee, writing several more essays and also playing a lot of nerve-wracking piano performances. Back then, when anyone asked about whether I wanted to go on to do a doctorate in music, the answer was an emphatic no! …Then I ended up in Austria and nearly ten years later, I’ve added a master’s degree in Religionswissenschaft, which included writing one big essay to beat all previous essays. Lately, when anyone asks me about further study, I say that if I start to exhibit symptoms of such aspirations, they should immediately consult a psychiatrist on my behalf.

The last big hurdle of the study program was, of course, writing a thesis. After brainstorming a number of topics, discarding one I thought was quite promising but that didn’t meet my supervisor’s approval, I ended up deciding on a topic relating two major interests: music and church, or more precisely: “The Role of Music in Church Services of the Freikirchen in Österreich, with Special Focus on the Congregations Located in Vienna.”

It’s worth mentioning here that the way church functions in Austria at a denominational or confessional level and in relation to the state is utterly different than in the U.S. To be as concise as I can, for a very, very long time Austria was staunchly Catholic. Although Reformation teaching was very popular in Austria, it was suppressed by the Hapsburg state, with Protestants either emigrating or going underground. Eventually, the Lutheran and Reformed Protestant traditions gained recognized status, but many Freikirchen (“free churches,” with historical and theological ties to the Anabaptist wing of the Reformation), long remained officially unrecognized. …Who cares? Well, one (of many) reason(s) that may surprise American readers especially is that being an officially recognized religion means the right to offer confessional religious education in public schools.

My thesis project focused on a coalition of five denominations that jointly gained official status as a recognized church in 2013. These denominations hold in common foundational theological and ecclesiological convictions, yet vary widely in other respects, such as understanding of the gifts of the Spirit. Partly because the coalition is a relatively new development, which hasn’t yet been thoroughly researched, it is of interest from a religious studies perspective. And because of my background in music, as well as involvement in weekly service planning in my church (not part of the coalition, due to baptismal practice and different church governance structure, even if similar in many other respects from theology and general church culture), I settled on a topic relating to music and the weekly church service. And since that is obviously too big of a topic, I focused in on the perspective of pastoral and musical leadership.

What proved really daunting was trying to do justice to a massive topic in a way a) that would be credible and accessible to the religious studies department at a secular university (albeit a sub-department of the Catholic theology institute), b) that would honor the musical and pastoral leadership and the local congregations of the denominational coalition which was the focus of my research, and c) that would honestly reflect my own observations, conclusions, and also open-ended questions arising out of interviews, questionnaires, church visits, and song repertoire analysis. No doubt precious few readers will want to tackle the whole thesis (totaling about 75,000 words and 180 pages, if you count all the footnotes and bibliography, etc., etc.!), but perhaps of interest to some is the official abstract:

This master’s thesis explores the role of music within broader aesthetic and liturgical practice in church services of congregations of the denominational coalition Freikirchen in Österreich (FKÖ) located in Vienna, Austria. Primary research methods were expert interviews conducted with pastors, questionnaires completed by music leaders, participant observation of church services, and analysis of lists of songs sung in congregations over a three-month time period. An anonymous church member survey was also conducted. The FKÖ was recognized in 2013 as a gesetzlich anerkannte Kirche (“legally recognized church”) but traces its roots back to the Anabaptist movement within Protestant Reformation history. The five member denominations are united around key theological doctrines (Jesus as Lord and Savior, the authority and dependability of the Bible, the universal Church united around the Apostles’ Creed, the mission of the Church) and classic free-church emphases (personal conversion with believer’s baptism, autonomy of the local congregation, separation of church and state). Church services are a central expression of faith and practice and exhibit individual and communal aspects of a multifaceted understanding of Christian worship. Services are generally characterized by an informal atmosphere, falling along a spectrum from “familial” to “trendy.” Service elements, with special emphasis given to the music and sermon, are embedded in flexible liturgical forms. Music in church services draws from numerous sources and is especially influenced by current trends in global Christian music. Songs within this contemporary repertoire draw both on core doctrinal content and on vocabulary of individual experience and lend themselves to flexible instrumentation and to unison singing. Diversity at a denominational and congregational level is showcased in varying degrees of emotional and gestural expressiveness and by a continuum of musical styles ranging between “collective” and “concertlike.” Nevertheless, congregations share extensive crossover of actual musical repertoire and manifest a consistent emphasis on the primacy of authentic worship. The aesthetic and musical elements of church services of Vienna congregations of the FKÖ illustrate historically and theologically rooted characteristics that find resonance in contemporary worship practice of broadly defined free-church Protestantism in German-speaking Europe and beyond.

With the thesis turned in on April 1st (and no April Fool’s Day joke!), I had a few weeks to prep for the Abschlussprüfung, which included a short presentation of my thesis, plus two topics for longer oral examination. This was quite a good experience overall: The two exam topics were 1) millennialism (i.e. End Times as understood by, but not limited to, various Christian traditions) and 2) perspectives on Jesus in Judaism and Islam. The latter question was especially fascinating! Although my thesis was written in English (with tons of German footnotes), the final exam was in German, which felt like a good way to conclude a degree at Universität Wien.

After the exam was over, I sat for a long time in a beautiful garden next to the university — enjoying the warm spring sunshine, talking on the phone with Hannah, having two acquaintances happen to wonder by and getting to chat a bit. In the evening I went out for dinner with a group of friends, and then we enjoyed fancy cocktails in an equally fancy hotel bar. Quite fun! (The photos were unfortunately taken after a few friends had already left.)

Hats Off

While it would have been nice to immediately go on holiday, the weeks since have been pretty intense. I said goodbye to the Ukrainian woman who lived with me for three weeks but decided to return to her home city, wrote two book reviews for my thesis supervisor, and rehearsed for a trio concert that took place this week. I also tied up lots of loose ends for my job at church, which I am leaving at the end of this month. In fact, today was the last morning working side by side with Susanna, the friend who is taking over the job with fresh energy and real expertise.

While the admin assistant position has always been very part-time, it has been the focus of a lot of my thought and energy, and the role has grown and changed a good bit over the last seven and a half years…including everything from posting sermon files to the church website, to keeping up with internal and external correspondence for a growing congregation, to helping prepare portions of weekly service liturgies, to managing the church calendar, to making sure there are enough Cherrios on hand for the nursery, to sending out a bilingual weekly newsletter.

It’s been a real privilege to observe a growing church from the vantage point of a staff member! It’s also become clear I can’t stay on in the same capacity long-term: With my studies completed, I need to find a full-time job that allows me to have a work visa instead of a student visa. Additionally, I’ve increasingly found it difficult to wear the “church member hat” and the “church staff hat,” however compatible they may at first glance appear to be. So I decided at the end of April to take one hat off. Easier said than done!

While the last weeks have been challenging, there have been very good parts. One of these has been working with Susanna, enjoying a series of mornings at the same desk, sharing a delight in detail, and finding humor along the way. There was a very special staff lunch last week with my two pastors and their wives, plus an impromptu visit with the assistant pastor and his wife today, who brought in pastries to share to mark the official handover.

And tomorrow I fly to the U.S. for eight weeks (hurrrrahhhhhhhhhhhh!). In case it’s not obvious, I’m pretty excited…even if also aware I won’t get to see everyone I would like to see, and that the time will probably seem too short with friends and family.

Speaking of family, one highlight of the spring — in the middle of final edits on my thesis — was a visit from my cousin Ben! He lives in New Zealand but had a work conference in Germany. Based on Covid regulations at the time he booked flights, he realized he could escape the hotel quarantine requirement in NZ by delaying his return by a week, thus deciding to spend a week in Vienna!

It was a novel experience doing home office with company at my usual spot at the kitchen table! I worked on church and university tasks, and he worked on computer programming (including work calls that sounded like English but were in parts incomprehensible!). Besides working, we did a lot of walking and whole lot of talking. We also attended a wonderful concert (Bach’s Johannespassion) the evening he arrived, did a lot more eating out than I usually would, and took a day off to go hiking. It was a great time; Franci, thanks for encouraging Ben to make the extended trip…but next time you both have to come!

Speaking of trips, since the alarm is going to ring before 4 a.m. tomorrow morning for a dash to the airport, I’d better sign off here and get a bit of sleep.

Stepping Back in Time . . . Summer 2021

It’s been months since I’ve updated my blog. While that silence is due to various factors in the intervening time (like being busy writing tens of thousands of words for another context!), explanations will have to wait in the interests of chronological consistency. So, for anyone keen on joining me in stepping back in time to last summer, here’s a glimpse of some lovely summer travels from 2021.

Europe Tour

Some time in the spring of 2021 my long-time French friend Pauline – our friendship goes back to our first autumn in Vienna in 2012 – suggested a road trip together. She was going to be in Paris visiting family, and why not meet there, together visit a mutual friend in Berlin, and see a bit of France and Germany on the way? It sounded like a great idea! And was!

As plans developed, however, some alterations had to be made. For one, renting a car from Paris-Berlin-Constance (not too far from Zurich) in the Covid-era was going to be preposterously expensive. So we were going to have to fly the first leg. Also, instead of returning to Vienna directly from the conclusion of our joint adventures, I decided I could add a leg and fly from Zurich to Barcelona and spend a week with friends there. Now in case you think this all sounds rather wonderful (Europe tour!!!) and rather complicated (three different [budget] airlines with their varying luggage allowances and five countries for which to consider current Covid regulations!), you are absolutely right!

France

I love Paris. So cliché, but so true. I arrived in Paris late-evening and felt an immediate sense of exhilaration on entering the subway. I rather like the Paris subway: the narrow, winding tunnels, the different-to-Vienna ways of marking lines and destinations, the vibe of the city even underground. Although I arrived in Paris a couple days ahead of Pauline, I was staying at her parents’ flat and was glad, considering the late hour, that I knew the lay of the land a bit.

The next day, a Saturday, I did what one must do in Paris: walk. Rather than catch the metro, I decided to just walk the city center, first north toward the Seine, with Notre Dame eventually appearing.

After some meandering near the Latin Quarter and the fortification of a chocolate croissant, I made my way to the Louvre gardens. Glorious! Lounging by a fountain, I read, people-watched, and sipped a to-go espresso. Eventually, I figured I should proceed somewhere and headed in the direction of the Jewish district, originally with the thought of returning to a splendid pie café that friends introduced me to years ago. But, instead I was captured by the sounds and sights and smells of a square where a busker was playing saxophone, tourists were eating gelato, a few locals were leaving a synagogue service, and the scent of falafel was emanating from a corner café. Eventually I discarded the pie idea in favor of a taste of the Levant and joined the queue for a falafel sandwich, enjoyed on a park bench in the sun. Late afternoon I walked home, picking up baguette and Boursin for supper, and discovering a tiny park (named after Louis Armstrong) with beautiful flowers near the flat.

Sunday morning I headed via a different route towards the city center. But I only got a few steps from home before realizing one knee was seriously unhappy with overuse (or the wrong shoes) from the day before. Instead of aiming for the nearest bus or metro station, however, I proceeded with characteristic stubborn optimism to keep walking….

Sunday was a Garden Day. First the Jardin des Plantes, a riot of color: from what seemed to be an orange theme in part of the garden, to pyramids of morning glories (flowers I associate with late summer in Tennessee, trailing up half-dried corn stocks in the veggie garden), to water lilies. And complementing the colorful array of flora, there were brilliant green parrots flying about. So exotic!

From the “Garden of Plants” (sounds so prosaic in English!), I proceeded to the Luxemburg Gardens for much of the rest of the day. Again lounging with a book by the fountains, vicariously delighting with the children sending their toy sail boats round the pool, basking in the sunshine.

At some point, it seemed to be time for lunch. And while not every bakery is open on Sunday, I found one not far from the park and returned to a shady spot in the park to enjoy a raisin “snail” and vanilla custard pie (I mean, why not just eat sweets in Paris?). A small joy was being wished “bon appetite” by a nun strolling past. During lunch, I heard the sound of petanque from somewhere nearby and figured I’d better investigate. Wow, some serious Sunday afternoon entertainment! A series of dusty courts provided space for multiple simultaneous tournaments, with teams composed of a variety of ages, mostly men. A healthy contingent of spectators looked on, some parked on green park chairs and apparently planning to stay a while.

Mid-afternoon I decided to visit an English-speaking international church that was listed as meeting a few blocks from the park, followed by watching more petanque and then wandering over to the Latin Quarter. I felt kind of bad for the people manning the crêpe stands. Instead of long lines of tourists, I was about the only person waiting for some cheesy goodness. The friendly German-Greek proprietress seemed happy for someone to chat with.

Monday I did a bit of baking in anticipation of Pauline and her mom arriving. (It is indeed foolish for an American to bake pastries for Parisians, but then our mutual love for lemon meringue pie goes way back!)

The other morning activity was a trip to the pharmacy. Not only did I need a Covid test for flying to Berlin the next day, but my knee was hurting enough to make me rather a spectacle limping along the sidewalk. A kind pharmacist directed me to some magic ointment (Hallelujah!).

I arriving back to the flat to be greeted by the scent of cantaloupe fresh from Provence and the delight of seeing Pauline and her mom just arrived home. In the afternoon, I took a long and unsuccessful trip to the outskirts of Paris, in hopes of meeting a friend who was going to drive in from an outlying town. But traffic delays and lack of phone access stymied the plan, and I headed back into town to spend a quiet evening watching a ballet with Pauline’s mom at home.

Germany

Tuesday morning Pauline and I flew to Berlin (thankfully not missing the flight — we were plenty early, but got rather excited about watching the Olympics while waiting in the airport). We spent the next couple days at the home of our mutual friend Seo and her husband Ben.

I’d like to spend more time in Berlin. It’s multiple times bigger than Vienna and definitely has a different vibe. The first afternoon featured a relaxed walk (okay, not so relaxed, because of my knee) around Charlottesburg, followed by delicious Korean-style (savory) pancakes made by our hosts.

Wednesday morning I went to the local Covid testing center for an obligatory test, and then Pauline and I took the train to the visit the 1936 Olympic stadium. It’s a bizarre place, part museum, part active sports area. The architecture is the epitome of the bleak National Socialist adaptation of ancient Greek models, and the stadium remains as an eerie testament to the propaganda of the era (all about youth and honor and sacrifice).

After touring the grounds, it felt really odd to get to the swimming pool area and see locals doing their morning laps. Pauline and I found ourselves discussing the strange feeling the place gives off — on the one hand, the museum aspect of the complex unequivocally denunciates the ideals of the regime that built it, and yet it feels odd (however practical) that parts are still used today for sports training and events.

In the afternoon, Seo, Pauline, and I took a tour of the Bonhoeffer house, something I’ve wanted to do for years. Our tour guide, a retired Lutheran pastor from a neighboring community, went above-and-beyond to give us an excellent (private!) tour, weaving together a picture of the Bonhoeffer family, elements of Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s theology, and the context of Berlin in the era leading up to and during WWII.

In the evening, Pauline and I cooked for our hosts — Pauline made French beef stew and I baked American apple pie!

Thursday we said goodbye to Berlin, picked up our rental car, and headed in the direction of Dresden, a city neither of us had previously visited. Much of the city was destroyed by heavy bombing during the war, with decades of reconstruction delay. In fact, if I understood correctly, one part of the museum we visited was not just being renovated, but was still undergoing major repairs not made in the previous 75 years.

We just had a few hours in the city, but we took in a tour of the Residenzschloss (Dresden Castle) — medieval armor, an Ottoman tent that would bring camping to a whole new level, an exhibit of clothing warn by royalty (they must have been such small people!), and state-room opulence à la Louis XIV — and had a good talk over a coffee on the plaza in the rain near the restored Frauenkirche (Church of Our Lady).

After our only night in a hotel rather than a host home, we got up Friday morning to visit a garden and then to drive to Bayreuth, in order to get a glimpse of the famous Wagner opera house there.

Then we met friends of Pauline’s nearby for a lovely visit over lunch (ridiculously delicious and heavy German fare) and a tour of their house renovation project. Although I didn’t follow any of the French conversation that featured prominently, it was a delightful time!

After some frustrating road delays, we arrived in Pforzheim, where we spent a relaxed evening chatting and cooking together with our gracious hostess Aline. The next morning we returned the rental car in Constance and caught a train from there into Switzerland. Pauline and I said goodbye en route, and I got off at the Zurich airport for a flight to Barcelona!

Spain

In Barcelona, I was met at the airport by dear friends Jon and Kathy. Kathy’s parents and my parents became friends more than four decades ago. And the friendship has extended to the next generation.

What an incredibly relaxing week! For instance, morning coffees on the terrace beanbags featured prominently, where we enjoyed the quiet of a very small town an hour or so from the busy city center (visible in the distant haze, although you need clear air and binoculars to get a proper look at La Sagrada Familia in miniature). The week included so much good conversation, a couple fun movies, great meals — and exciting outings. If Jon wanted to take on a new career, he should definitely consider being a professional travel guide!

On Sunday, Kathy and I took a delightful long walk just up the road from their place. It was hot, the kind of dry heat that lets you know you are far, far away from East Tennessee in August! Not to mention that amid the rolling hills, there’s an abandoned villa that’s slowly getting overtaken by the forest.

On Monday, Kathy and I drove into the city on a mission to see as many external views of La Sagrada Familia as possible. If you’ve never been to Barcelona and are considering a trip, let this be your one non-negotiable destination. I’ve been inside twice on previous trips. The first time, standing in the massive cathedral, you could watch and hear the stone masons at work while admiring the tree-like pillars supporting the loft structure. Several years later, the bright colors of the stained glass windows stuck out. In 2022, it’s clear that the structure is adding mass and height, although the tallest tower is yet to be built.

On Tuesday we went on a volcano-hunting adventure. I had no idea there had ever been volcanos in Spain — it must have been a long time ago! However, we did indeed take a walk around part of a rim of an old crater, although instead of spewing lava, the grassy crater housed a small stone chapel and exposed you to the hot afternoon sun!

We also visited a picturesque town and admired the village perched directly on a cliff-side!

Wednesday we spent a day at the coast, enjoying the vistas from roads that follow the coastal outline and then finding a spot where we could descend to the rocky shore for a picnic and a dip in the sea (and a bit of snorkeling).

Thursday afternoon we headed up into the Pyrenees in the early afternoon. That would seem to be a strange time to start a day in the mountains (two hours’ drive away), but our primary goal was staying late enough to catch some stargazing and see some meteors, far away from the city lights!

The afternoon was spent bird watching (a beloved hobby of Jon and Kathy) and taking in the expansive vistas. We shared a picnic supper and then drove to what seemed like a good viewing spot and set up camp: lawn chairs, snacks, blanket, and the car as a windbreak.

Slowly dusk settled, then it grew dark. Stars appeared, the Milky Way emerged out of the darkness. We did indeed see a handful of meteors, including one ferociously bright one that appeared to ignite twice as it streaked low across the horizon. The stargazing was made more fun by the friendly Spanish couple who had the same great idea, and also by the sense of doing something a bit crazy (after all, we still had a two hour drive home, but it was worth going to bed after 2 a.m.!)

Friday I flew back to Vienna. A wonderful trip.

Austrian Alps: Berliner Höhenweg

In early September I enjoyed the long-anticipated opportunity to share a favorite hiking trail with former flatmate Jessica. Two other summers I’ve hiked part of the trail (and blogged about it), but now it was time to do the whole trek in one go!

We took an early train from Vienna towards Tyrol and by early afternoon had arrived in the Zittertal region, ready to leave the Tal (valley) and head up into the mountains beckoning.

Our first afternoon’s jaunt was short, just over two hours, and we enjoyed finding huckleberries and raspberries along the way, took breaks to enjoy the vistas, and excitedly arrived at our first hut.

Rather than giving a day-by-day account as I have in the past, I’ll let the photos do most of the talking!
One side note: A a prominent feature of the trip, but not very photogenic, was knee pain (not to mention impressive blisters and going to bed one night with a fever!). The knee issues turned parts of the week into more of a mental/physical challenge than I was hoping for, and I found myself wondering why it is that I love hiking so much.

So, what is so great about a week above tree line?

It’s the rugged peaks…

Mingling sky and land…

Getting to the peak or to the next mountain pass…

The steep descents, at least minus knee pain (there’s a hut at the bottom for the sharp of eye)…

Rock art…

The friendly sheep and downright cheeky goats…

Iconic Austria…

The huts…far away … nearer … arrived…

Taking off boots, checking out the dinner menu (and maybe some afternoon Apfelstrudel?), reading, playing cards…

Fun fellow-hikers — those with a similar pace one sees multiple times a day and again evening and morning in the hut…

Wildflowers…

Stone walls and hanging bridges…

Cascades, serpentine streams, decaying ice, placid lakes (a glorious, very chilly swim, anyone?)…

Stargazing and morning and evening skies…

Friendship enjoyed and deepened in shared enjoyment of the wonders of Creation and the pleasure of a good holiday’s work…

…With all those good reasons to take to the trail, where to next?

Daily Life: Studies

In late January, I got back to Vienna after an extended Christmas visit with Hannah and Peter. In the remaining days of the month and throughout February, I compensated for the days out of the (home) office with lots of extra hours proof-reading, scrambling to meet deadlines for projects with my university job. The texts I’ve been working on off and on for the past many months deal largely with the historical development of Sunday as a day of rest. Let’s just say it’s complicated!

In March, the pressure shifted from university job to my church job, as we moved into a new building and simultaneously back to in-person services — during Holy Week, too, which added another whole level of complexity! Our first service was held on Good Friday. Thinking how to describe it, the German word “Feierlichkeit” comes to mind — which can mean both “celebration” and “solemnity.” It was a beautiful service, interweaving prayers from Every Moment Holy, classical music, silence, reading of the Passion narrative, etc.

Easter Sunday was the first Sunday we met again as a congregation since late fall, when we had a couple of outdoor services. At a personal level, the highlight of the day was dinner with three close friends from church. Our host Eric grilled trout, which made me very happy because it reminded me of Dad and his love for fishing.

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All late winter and into spring, the Covid numbers and regulations kept fluctuating. Being able to work from home, not being a big restaurant-goer, and not liking to shop meant I didn’t feel it as keenly as a lot of people — but it was pretty exciting nonetheless when cafes and restaurants opened again in mid-May (closed, except for take-out, since the beginning of November). Even before I went out to dinner myself, I found myself feeling happy for people I saw sitting in cafes, as I rode by on my bike. The city seemed to have more life about it.

Granted, to sit in a Viennese coffee house or go out to dinner or (as of 1 November) to show up at the office, you need the magic password, known as the “3G rule”: geimpft, getestet, genesen (i.e., you can show proof of vaccination, current negative (PCR-)test results, or Covid recovery). But, I don’t want to write about Covid, so I promise to move on to other subjects now.

Aside from church work and my Uni job, studies continue to be a big part of my life. A necessary part, since my visa is dependent on my student status. In fact, for something like 13 semesters, I have perused the course catalogue, searching out the required or interesting (or sometimes both) courses, slowly accruing credits towards the religious studies degree I started in 2014. (This semester — glory be! — I am not enrolled in any courses and instead writing my thesis — more on that another time.)

I don’t blog often about Uni, but this post I’d like to share the fruit of a course that caught my eye last winter term — a cooperation between the University of Vienna and the University of Music: “Text – Musik – Kirchenraum: Kontexte sakraler Musik.” The focus of the course turned out to be various Psalm texts and their musical settings.

What particularly interested me was that the course included not just the standard research paper requirement (ugh), but also the alternative of composing a piece of music! I opted for the latter — and thought I’d post both the composition (click HERE for the recording on YouTube) and the accompanying text (below).

“You Say You Are Near”: A Song of Lament from Psalm 130

The Psalms are striking for their diversity. They vary widely in length – from two verses to 176 – and in their historical context of origin – from the time of the wilderness wanderings (Psalm 90) to the post-exilic era (Psalm 137). They differ in literary style (acrostic poem: Psalm 112; word/thematic study: Psalm 119; verse and refrain/call-and-response: Psalm 136) and authorship (from David, the quintessential psalmist, to Moses, to the “Sons of Korah,” to numerous anonymous psalmists). Most strikingly, while they are united in their praise of Yahweh, they are richly diverse in terms of specific content and emotional tenor, ranging from poetic accounts of key events in Israel’s history (Psalm 106), to texts serving specific liturgical functions in corporate worship (Psalm 30), to intimate expressions of personal doubt and trust (Psalm 130).

I have always been drawn to the Book of Psalms, returning to this portion of Scripture more than any other. Sometimes I find myself reading the psalms in observer mode, noting either the expressions of ecstatic worship or the harsh imprecations of enemies with a certain element of bewilderment. Other times I am drawn into prayer or worship along with the psalmist, as I am reminded of God’s character and gracious deeds and respond afresh to the open invitation to speak honestly and boldly the intertwined joys and longings of my own peculiar experience.

The inspiration for my composition is Psalm 130. It is a psalm of lament, a genre that figures prominently in the Psalter as a whole. In his book Dark Clouds, Deep Mercy: Discovering the Grace of Lament, author and pastor Mark Vroegop defines a lament as “a prayer in pain that leads to trust”[1] – a type of prayer which usually involves the following “key elements”: “(1) an address to God, (2) a complaint, (3) a request, and (4) an expression of trust and/or praise.”[2] As many biblical scholars, pastors, and lay believers have written, preached, and put into daily practice, Christian lament expresses a unique capacity of the faith to take seriously both the brokenness of the world evident on a cosmic scale and also the sorrow experienced at a deeply individual level – within the context of confidence in a creating, sustaining, and redeeming God. The Psalter’s declarations of the character and mighty acts of this God, first sung by ancient Jewish psalmists, are understood within Christian faith as finding their ultimate fulfillment in the person of Christ – in God incarnate who suffered with and on behalf of his people and whose resurrection is the foretaste of the assurance that he will one day “make all things new” (Revelation 21:5, English Standard Version [ESV]).

Of course, in the context of their origins in Jewish worship, the psalms, whether celebratory texts or laments, were intended not simply for private meditation or for public recitation, but for singing.  This is made clear throughout the Psalter – from rather cryptic musical instructions (for example, Psalm 56: “To the choirmaster: according to The Dove on Far-off Terebinths”), to the multitudinous references to singing and to musical instruments, to the psalms designated as “Songs of Ascent” (Psalms 120-134).

This practice of setting psalms to music has been carried over from Jewish worship practice into the Christian tradition(s). Countless hymns and other religious songs sung in churches around the globe to the present day are drawn directly or inspirationally from the Psalter. Additionally, the psalm texts have inspired many works for the concert stage. Psalm 130 is no exception. Within the Western classical tradition, this psalm has inspired composers ranging from Gluck to Gounod, Luther to Liszt, Schütz to Salieri, Byrd to Bach to Boulanger. These settings span all eras of classical music and various languages (English, French, German, Latin); and their compositional proportions range from an entire cantata (Bach, of course), to a straightforward rhymed setting of the text for congregational singing (Luther), to a dramatic orchestral tone poem with choir and soloists (Boulanger). However, Psalm 130, in its universal yet individual expression of longing and hope, is really quite simple. This simplicity suggests that setting this psalm to music is not the exclusive privilege of household-name composers like Bach, nor of theological giants like Luther. Rather, humbler would-be composers are also invited to make the words of this psalm uniquely their own.

When some time in 2017 I began composing a song based on Psalm 130, I did not have any inkling that my improvisation at the piano could prove useful for a university course. Nor was I in the middle of reading any insightful books on the topic of lament. Instead, I was profoundly sad – wearied by a long season of grief following the death of both of my parents the previous year, losses that sent out unexpected ripple effects into all parts of life and which compounded an already lurking sense of God’s absence. There was something therapeutic about sitting down to the piano and being honest about my sadness, and also in declaring God’s goodness and trustworthiness despite any feelings to the contrary; musing and music-making were a valuable exercise, whether or not the song would ever be ready to be shared with others.

Written for voice[3] and piano, “You Say You Are Near” is very simple in terms of musical form – instrumental introduction, verse, chorus, piano interlude (based on the verse/chorus), chorus, bridge, chorus. The style evades a specific genre.

With regard to text, the first two verses of the psalm express what I felt at the time I began the composition: “Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord! O Lord, hear my voice! Let your ears be attentive to the voice of my pleas for mercy!” (ESV). These words I adapted just slightly for the opening (and only) verse of my composition: “Out of the depths, Lord, I cry to You. O Lord, hear my prayer! Incline Your ear to my voice, O Lord, to my plea for help!”

In the psalm, verses three and four focus on God’s character as a forgiving God. Although some musical settings highlight this penitential aspect of the psalm (Byrd’s “From Depth of Sin,” for example), I chose to interpret the “depths” from verse one as referring to those of bereavement and loneliness and thus decided to pass over these two verses of the psalm.

Verse five of the psalm offers insight into the appropriate response to the God who promises to answer those who call upon him: “I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in his word I hope” (ESV). This verse inspired the song’s bridge: “I will wait; I will wait; I will wait for You, Lord…. In Your Word I will trust; I will wait for You, Lord!” The repetition of “I will wait” (seven times) highlights how arduous waiting can be.

The last three verses of the psalm underscore this posture of waiting (verse 6) and affirm God’s character and deeds of love and mercy (verses 7-8). Instead of incorporating these verses into my composition, however, I chose instead to bookend the bridge with a chorus that focuses on the tension of waiting amidst grief but in hope. The three phrases that make up the chorus are reminiscent of other psalm texts: 1) “You say You are near” could reference Psalm 34:18: “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted” (ESV); 2) “You say You count tears” suggests Psalm 56:8: “You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one” (New Living Translation); 3) “You say You hear prayer – hear mine!” echoes passages like, “Hear my prayer, O Lord; let my cry come to you! [H]e regards the prayer of the destitute and does not despise their prayer” (Psalm 102:1, 17, ESV).

The song is written in D minor – a minor key seemed to be the obvious choice for a text of lament. The chord pattern that features throughout the piece is based on a descending line – D (minor: i), C (major: VII), Bb (major: VI), A (major: V) – “into the depths,” so to speak. While the tonality of the piece as a whole is clearly minor, I have intentionally minimized the appearance of the 3^rd scale degree in the chord progressions, in an attempt to create an element of tonal ambiguity that reflects the tension of grief and hope, doubt and trust. Both the descending chord pattern and the avoidance of the 3^rd scale degree can be seen in the following figure:

The element of tension is highlighted in the use of dissonance. The bitter edge of grief and the strain of waiting are especially apparent in the piano accompaniment (and in combination with the vocal line) of the bridge, as shown below:

Melodically, two elements are worth noting. First, the opening sixteenth note motif in the left hand of the accompaniment is composed of a repeating group of five notes that is intentionally asymmetrical within the 4/4 time signature. The rapid descending notes could suggest the flowing of tears, and the metric ambiguity the disorienting nature of grief. The following examples show this figure in the opening bars of the piece, as well as where it reappears in the accompaniment to the chorus (m. 45ff) and in the bridge (m. 62ff):

The second melodic pattern to note is the interweaving of descending and ascending lines – for instance, in the descending bell-like tones of the right hand (in blue), which contrast with the ascending register of note groupings (in green), as shown below. (This descending line is echoed in mm. 10-13 and mm. 58-61.)

Another example of juxtaposed ascending/descending lines is the melody of the opening “Out of the depths” as it is loosely mirrored in the descending line of the opening notes of the chorus:

This sort of contrast is particularly apparent in the accompaniment at the climax of the bridge (m. 65, though see also m. 49). Here one could even imagine that the descending triplets take on a further significance – an allusion to the Triune God’s condescension to answer the one crying out from the depths who is waiting in faith:

The ending of the song features an intentional inversion of the chorus text, concluding with “You say You are near.” The core of this song of lament is a longing for God’s felt presence, for the comfort at an experiential level of a promised theological truth. The accompaniment ends with an ambiguous D minor arpeggio in the left hand – the 3^rd scale degree (F) is again missing, and two E’s appear in the last bar. At one level, these two tones introduce a final dissonance (when heard against the D minor chord), but they can also be heard as borrowed from the dominant chord of A major. Thus, the last note of the vocalist (A) belongs not only to a D minor chord but, when heard in combination with accompaniment’s closing E’s, suddenly is equally at home as the tonic note of the dominant chord. Additionally, the final E of the concluding ascending arpeggio rises just above the D minor tonic in the right hand, offering a closing note of ascending and overcoming hope:

This note of hope, however tentative, is evident in most of the biblical psalms of lament, indicating a determined clinging to God’s promise of covenantal faithfulness: “[H]ope in the Lord! For with the Lord there steadfast love…” (Psalm 130:7).

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[1] Mark Vroegop, Dark Clouds, Deep Mercy: Discovering the Grace of Lament (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2019), p. 28.

[2] Vroegop, p. 29.

[3] I am extremely grateful to Abigail Hunter for singing for the recording of this piece, as well as for acting as sound technician.

A Glance Back: Christmas 2020

A Kiwi acquaintance likes to say that summer cookouts make her think of Christmas. Well, I can’t claim that same association — but here it is August and I am thinking about Christmas. Guess that means I’m just that behind on blogging!

Way back last September I booked (incredibly cheap) tickets from Austria to the U.S. for Christmas, in hopes that Covid might be more or less “over” by then. (What optimism!) Initially, I halfway deluded myself that I wasn’t going to stress about whether the trip would be possible or not. Celebrating the holidays in Vienna instead of with family would also be nice, right? And, after all, the airlines were promising full reimbursements for canceled trips, no questions asked.

However, as the date of departure approached (and both departure date and airport of arrival shifted, due to airline-initiated cancelations), I had to admit to myself that my heart was set on spending the holidays with Hannah and Peter. So, when I developed very strange throat issues a week or so before I was to fly, I became intensely anxious. (It seemed like any symptom could be Covid, which would keep you off a plane. But no, apparently it wasn’t that – and also wasn’t major thyroid issues, which the doctor has me scurrying to get tested before being gone for a month.)

In the end, after all the worry about whether the flight would really take off and whether I would really be on it, it did and I was. And once past all the pre-boarding stress, flying felt rather normal. Sure they’d added a few lines to the safety measures spiel, and we were all wearing masks (except when we weren’t: the irony of most of us gladly relinquishing our masks to enjoy dinner still amuses me). But maybe it just felt “normal” because hurtling through the stratosphere while watching a string of movies and going backward in time (traveling west, that is!) is already weird enough!

Arriving in Philly, I discovered that the health declaration form I’d filled out on the plane was apparently of no interest to anyone — unless I deemed it to hold souvenir value (I decided it didn’t).

I also discovered a WhatsApp message from Hannah, clarifying who was picking me up from the airport. I should start by backing up to say that a few days prior Peter had come down with a “cold” or “sinus infection,” which proceeded to suspiciously rob him of his sense of taste and smell; so I was already prepared to spend a couple days at his sister Margrethe’s place, in case he tested positive for Covid and they were quarantining. But, I wasn’t quite expecting Hannah’s message at the airport, apologetically explaining that, well, she didn’t feel so good that day…. Turns out they both had Covid — mercifully, mild cases.

As disappointing as the change in plans was, I was so thankful to be greeted with a big hug by Margrethe, and she proceeded to host me at her place in the most gracious manner possible for the next week plus. Since Hannah and Peter felt more like they had a cold rather than something more threatening, I admit that we did some just-squeaking-by-the-letter-of-the-law quarantine maneuvers, featuring visiting through the front door at their place or Margrethe’s back door. In our defense, it was hard to be in neighboring towns, rather than on different continents, and not be allowed to be in the same room!

That first week or so turned out to be a great chance to get better acquainted with my brother-in-law’s sister — or should I say my sister’s sister-in-law? Both terms are rather cumbersome, so I am happy to report that in this case the German language (or at least Austrian dialect) offers a shorter word for something than English does, and you can colloquially refer to your sister’s sister-in-law as your “Schwippschwägerin.” (Admittedly, also a bit of a mouthful.)

At first, we had to sort of feel each other out about shared space, meals, etc., but we conveniently share a love for coffee, for long morning chats over said coffee while standing in the kitchen, for enormous amounts of popcorn with a movie, for quiet to do our own thing (for me, reading and doing a bit of work for university), for cooking creatively…. I guess the food theme is kind of obvious, but Margrethe is a great cook (it seems to run in the family), and we had a lot of good conversation in and around Indian butter chicken and zucchini soup in homemade bread bowls, and (did I already mention?) mugs of coffee.

For Christmas Eve, I joined Peter’s two sisters and their dad for a very low-key celebration — everyone was more than willing to postpone the “real” Christmas celebration till the rest of the family could be there. But we still enjoyed a festive evening, and I felt very grateful to be welcomed in so warmly!

Christmas Day Margrethe made the two of us French toast for breakfast, and I spent a lot of time reading by the Christmas tree. Hannah and Peter dropped by for a through-the-closed-back-door visit (where we all tried hard to be cheerful and make the most of the situation), and I ate yummy Indian leftovers for dinner. Margrethe returned from her dad’s in time for us to enjoy watching a movie together. Probably the strangest 25 December I have every had — at least rivaling Christmas 2005, when we Holders were in New Zealand for a summertime Christmas with our aunt and uncle and cousins there.

Finally, the day after Christmas, Hannah and Peter were both finished with their quarantine, and I got to step inside their front door! When I was there last, it was still a massive pre-move project — in Summer 2019 we spent many (happy!) hours painting walls and ceilings. So, one of the first things I had to do upon arriving at Christmastime was to take a grand tour — appreciating the artistic style with which they have together crafted a home from the attic on down! Quite the show-and-tell session. And then the evening proceeded with decorating the Christmas tree together (yes, on 26 December!) while listening to Christmas music and grazing on a splendid charcuterie and opening our Christmas stockings and ending up rather giddy with laughter.

Sunday started off with the oddly named “Dutch baby” for breakfast (half the fun is watching it rise magically in the oven).

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Then we headed off to church (rather a novel experience for me, since we were only having livestream services at the time at my church in Vienna), followed by a leisurely afternoon with Peter’s sisters and dad. Again good food, plus a fire in the fireplace, and the pleasure of being able to gather after the strange semi-isolation of the preceding days.

Monday Peter and Hannah and I determined was our “Christmas Day.” We started off with the Holder traditional breakfast, followed by opening gifts.

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The best gift was Hannah’s replicating Mom’s loose-leaf recipe collection — complete with a less-faded version of Mom’s cloth-covered binder (and the revised edition adorned with Hannah’s embroidery) and copies of dozens upon dozens of recipes Mom either cut from magazines or copied from friends or received as part of a family letter or otherwise collected over 35-plus years of cooking for the family.

After opening gifts, the traditional Christmas Day trajectory took a novel turn: Instead of a big company dinner in the afternoon, the three of us spent the rest of the day taking a beautiful country drive, spontaneously stopping for ice cream, and sharing what was, growing up, our favorite birthday dinner menu.

The following days I won’t try to describe is great detail. But common themes were games (Hand and Foot, Zilch, Ingenious, Dutch Blitz), walks (in town and on nearby rail trails), a whole array of delightful meals and interesting drinks (whipped coffee, anyone?), visits with friends from the neighborhood or from church (it’s so nice to like your sibling’s friends!), snatches of work and study (one morning involving getting up for an online lecture at 3:30 a.m. EST!), movie nights, and a trip to the festively decorated Longwood Gardens.

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Another highlight was the multiple country drives we took together (Amish farms, buggies, bald eagles, miniature horses, big skies).

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New Year’s Eve we gathered with Peter’s side of the family, including his brother and family in from D.C., for a combined Christmas and New Year’s celebration. The family’s Scandinavian roots became freshly apparent by the amount of pickled fish that appeared on the table — oddly tasty, but very foreign to the Holder palate! Definitely also not a Holder tradition — but seems like it wouldn’t be so bad to institute — were the midnight ice cream sundaes.

The following weekend my former flatmate in Vienna drove up from D.C. for a visit. Jessica is an avid conversationalist, game-player, and partaker in outdoor activities. So, we did some exploring of the area together, including a walk near the Susquehanna River. It was also quite handy to have a fourth person for the team version of Hand and Foot!

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…Back in the fall, I had booked plane tickets for a whole month’s visit, the plan being to stay just long enough to be able to celebrate Hannah’s birthday on 14 January. (The last time we celebrated a birthday together would have been hers in 2012.) Peter and I had a lot of fun planning and executed surprises that lasted all day!

For starters, I got up early to make a three-course breakfast: 1) yogurt parfait with (H and P’s homemade) tomato preserves and topped with caramel-pecan crisps, followed by 2) mini sweet potato and bacon quiches, and ending with 3) lemon-blueberry gingersnap tartlets.

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Afterwards, Hannah and I attended a C. S. Lewis reading club she has been part of for quite some time — a diverse group of women, ranging in age from 30-something to around 80, and coming from quite a spectrum of Christian backgrounds. It was great to be able to meet those attending that day and to be able to picture the group and discussion style.

In the afternoon, H and P and I enjoyed some frisbee-playing in a nearby park, as well as multiple rounds of Ingenious (nice when the birthday gift is an instant success).

In the evening, we enjoyed take-out from a favorite Nepalese restaurant in Lancaster, followed by the surprise of their pastor and his wife showing up for dessert and conversation and laughter!

Well, all trips do come to an end at some point. In this case, British Airways canceled my flight, so I rebooked with another airline and stayed an extra week. The last days were pretty low-key, partly because we were waiting to see if I had caught Covid from the friends who came for Peter’s signature New Year Day’s pork and sauerkraut. Thankfully not, and I headed back across the Atlantic on the emptiest flight I’d ever seen. (Only in the middle of a pandemic can you find affordable, one-way, non-stop tickets from Newark to Vienna, get from baggage drop-off and through security in less than 20 minutes, and have only one other passenger sharing a row of seven seats.)

Having arrived in my tale back in Vienna, I’ll conclude for now!

This Old House

Today (meaning, when I started the draft of this post on 26 October) we signed the sale of our childhood home.

Strange — especially since Hannah was signing for both of us, though I was included via phone from 4,836 miles away (or at least that is the number you get when you google “How many miles is it from Vienna to Knoxville”).

Good — because we are so happy about the buyers . . . a young couple who cherish old things and are excited (?!) about upkeep of an old house. Moreover, like our parents who bought the house 37 years ago, they look forward to practicing hospitality, tending their part of the garden and enjoying the fruit of their hands, delighting in children’s laughter wafting in from the big yard, and investing their time and energy for the gospel, whether locally or across the globe.

Sad — not really yet, but probably later. Less sad because I suppose I can invite myself over for coffee some time.

It seems like the right day to try to put down on paper some of what this little corner of Tennessee means to me. What comes to mind are some of the smells and sounds of home and what the house and yard contain of wealth than can’t be lost when the physical property passes on to new owners.

Smells — Dad mowing the lawn. Man, I love that smell of fresh-cut grass, with maybe just a tinge of fumes from the mower mixed in. The summer evenings, still and peaceful but still plenty hot and humid, and the mingling sound and scent of Dad finishing off the lawn before dusk settles.

Other smells — countless kitchen aromas. That kitchen — the center of almost any home, and most definitely the best room of our house. If Mom was cooking or baking, there was a very big chance that I, or both Hannah and I, were at her elbow, eager to stir and taste what was being concocted. Who doesn’t love the smell of onions sautéing, promising any of dozens of potential dinners within the next hour or so? Or the remarkable once-a-year olfactory treat of an apple pie or a blackberry pie in the oven? Or the comfortingly familiar scent of Sunday night popcorn? Or the pungent odor of parmesan sprinkled across the birthday-dinner turkey-tetrazzini, the kind of smell you might not like if you didn’t know it was cheese?

Sounds — Well, there was the inescapable volume of the solid old upright piano, which saw us from “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” to Brahms or Beethoven. (How many afternoons did Mom sit next to the piano writing letters and taking in the music — or other times listening from the kitchen and calling out reminders to slow down or play more accurately?!) Or the beloved record player — Handel’s Messiah or Vaughan Williams’ Hodie and other Christmas favorites that accompanied tree decorating and the whole Christmas season — or the less frequently played Bob Dillan or (totally random) synthesizer Bach. And the muted roar of college football, an acquired taste we Holder women never acquired (though Hannah and I might now be moved by it with a certain nostalgia). And the tones of East Tennessee itself — cicadas and crickets winding up their nightly music boxes, while lightning bugs danced in the humid July air. We liked to watch the fireflies from our beds, the shades raised enough to invite in whatever summer night breeze just might be stirring outside. Probably the best sound of my childhood was the sound of books being read aloud. I remember Dad sitting down with us on the couch to introduce us to Hobbits. Much of the reading, though, happened in the kitchen, with Mom reading while we girls ate lunch during home schooling years or while we washed dishes in the evenings. Together we took in Charles Dickens and Philip Yancey, the Mitford series and Moby Dick (ugh), spellbinding historical biography (Endurance) and classic children’s literature like The Wind in the Willows — oh how Toad made us laugh!

Smells, tastes, sounds. Spaces. For starters, the dining room — the furniture Mom loved, fitting just so and offering a sort of elegance that suited her unique mix of frugal and proper. The scene of countless meals with guests, usually followed by a game (dominoes, Pictionary, the poem game, zilch), dessert always delayed till we had supposedly worked up a bit more appetite. Most days, though, the table was where Mom read the Bible and prayed in the morning and where she often sat to write letters.

Dad had his own prayer closet — literally. Because the kitchen had enough storage space, Dad made the pantry his “study,” a miniscule space stuffed with desk, stool, shelves, books, papers, family pictures. Countless mornings he was cloistered there before the rest of us were awake — a narrow beam of light escaping from the crack between door and doorframe or a squeak of his chair indicating he hadn’t left for work yet.

Back to the dining room for a moment: Hannah and I liked that room partly because of the heating register there — somehow that register was warmer than the others, or at least it was about the only one set in a carpeted floor. As little (and not so little) kids, we liked to sit right next to the register, intermittent blasts of hot air billowing up under old-fashioned flannel night gowns or beloved quilts. Both of us still sing the praises of the heat produced by the kerosene furnace of our early years, which was more satisfyingly warm than that produced by the gas furnace to follow.

Of course, there aren’t just warm, cozy memories of the place, but sad things, too — to deny it would be to paint the wrong picture. But raised voices, out-and-out arguments, and patterns of misunderstanding hardly invite nearer description. There were also lots of apologies and a sizeable portion of forbearance — and lots and lots of laughter. Oh man, for another of those volleys of hysterical laughter with Mom and Hannah after supper, the three of us still sitting around the dinner table and Dad already off to watch the nightly news. Something would get us going, and then Dad would appear, curious and slightly bewildered by what could have come over us in the space of just a few minutes. We couldn’t really explain.

Moving outside, more memories show up, clamoring for recognition. There’s the view out the front door — the hazy parade of the Smoky Mountains, the nearer green hills, the fog painting the river’s course — oh, the many beautiful sunrises we’ve enjoyed from that vantage point. In the side yard on the bedroom side, there’s the strapping tulip popular tree Dad planted when I was in the fourth grade, it’s upper branches now far above the roofline. On the same side of the house, the old pecan tree — some years not a nut to be found, or then again one year a bumper crop — same with the peach trees on the driveway side.

In the backyard, the veggie garden and old smoke house. For a number of years a treehouse — and, even better — a rope bridge leading to it from the now deceased oak.

Speaking of trees, the sycamore that shaded the western side of the house so many years is worth mentioning not only for its shade and the copious quantity of leaves it let fall this time of year, but also for the big rope swing Dad hung from it. That same tree, or the neighboring maples, supplied with their shallow roots one of the hillbilly-golf features of our croquet lawns — “lawns” being a euphemism for the sloping, bumpy, or downright steep courts where we honed our skills. How many games did Dad and Hannah and I play — punctuated by yells and howls of delight and dismay! I must say, it shouldn’t come as a surprise if Hannah and I are competitive, having Ron Holder, the soul of competition (and good sportsmanship), for our dad!

Other sports tended to spill into the neighbors’ even bigger yard. Frisby and baseball were favorites — I still remember the time Dad told us he’d take us to Disney World if we could catch his next fly ball. I’m not a good catch, but I caught the ball. We didn’t make it to Disney (which I don’t regret), but eventually we tasted real rollercoasters on a summer vacation up the East Coast — Dad and our uncle promptly getting motion sickness and Hannah and I rather enjoying the thrill and not one bit queasy.

Back to trees, the same old sycamore served as a popular “fairy house” site. We loved to gather twigs and moss to build miniature houses, one imaginative past time among many in a childhood blissfully free of digital dependence and ignorant of the very existence of cell phones.

When I think about growing up and doing it in the same house since age one, I think especially of routine, of ordinary days, of a certain predictability. Sometimes that bred a bit of boredom and plenty of wishful imagining of what life might be like some day. I remember playing in the backyard, hearing and watching a plane high overhead, thinking how amazing it must be to fly. Would I ever get to be in an airplane myself? Two to three decades later, I feel a reverse longing for the simplicity of that childhood moment every time an otherwise quiet summer day is interrupted by the distant hum of an airplane.

Perhaps one of the greatest gifts our parents gave us was to grow up with the stability of quiet routines. For that I’m grateful.

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Hannah’s addendum:

Smells. Turkey coming out of the oven while international guests watched a bird being carved for the first time. So many batches of homemade bread. Christmas baking. Curry dishes. All those amazing aromas you mention. And the terrible, mysterious smell that eluded us for years and turned out to be an old light fixture. 

Sights. The sunlight coming in the kitchen windows all afternoon and evening and the leafy shadows on the kitchen wall. Water rushing down the driveway in a huge storm. The pattern of Christmas lights shining through cedar needles onto the ceiling in an otherwise dark room as we ate Christmas cookies by candlelight and listened to the Glen Ellen children’s choir and organ after decorating the tree as a family. 

Sounds. A record of Pachelbel’s Canon in D played as we went to bed. Mom listening for years to Elisabeth Eliot’s short daily radio broadcast (and doing a few stretches and exercises while she listened). Laughing with our family and Aunt Renie over dictionary words zyzzyva and zarf. Popcorn popping every Sunday night for a simple dinner with fruit and cheese. 

Assorted. So many meals of garden vegetables after we helped Dad plant and Mom harvest. Pretend tea parties with doll dishes in the sunroom before the room turned into storage. Using the coffee table both as a slide (with one end propped up on the couch) and as a shuffle board court; Mom let us draw the scoring triangles on the table with crayon and leave it like that for weeks! Many jigsaw puzzles occupying the dining room table over Christmas break. Two person games in the hallway that involved balls, rackets, and closing all the doors. Hide and seek in the dark with Dad. Three o’clock coffee with Mom whenever we were home to join her. So many thousands of laps walked or run or cycled around the block. Joining Dad on the roof several times. Playing on our ladder swing set and sheet metal slide that was an accident and tetanus waiting to happen. The sandbox in the smokehouse and the various horses we kept; several of the latter got out, including a pony, a lively colt, and a Clydesdale. 

 

The Great Outdoors

I always feel like summer starts late in Austria. For one thing, the university term wraps up at the end of June or beginning of July. This year, the weather also couldn’t make up it’s mind. And to top it all off, even if I don’t necessarily pine for every American holiday, I spent July 4th as my last day in quarantine (after a friend, together with whom I’d spent considerable time helping a mutual friend move, ended up testing positive for Covid, which landed a couple of us stuck at home for a while). On the evening of Independence Day, I sat on my wide windowsill — as close as I was allowed to get to the outdoors — sipping a glass of celebratory wine in anticipation of my own personal “independence” from quarantine the next morning.

Having become quite enamored with cycling in the previous months, I spent my first day of freedom, and in some sense the first day of summer, cycling well over 50 kilometers — first to drop by friends’ place on the outskirts of town, then peddling further upriver along the Danube, enjoying a funny little ferry (really, a glorified raft) across the river, cycling downstream on the other bank and then along the long island, stopping for a much-needed dip in the river, and showing up (still quite damp) for a “house church” service mid-afternoon. Dinner at a friend’s flat rounded out one great day.

Vorarlberg and Tirol

Mid-July I headed west, on a now oft-traveled route to the furthest stretch of Austria — the province of Vorarlberg borders Germany, Switzerland, Lichtenstein, and Italy. Koni (a friend from church) and I arrived by train just as a rain front was due to roll in. Our lovely hostess Rebecca (whom we know from her few years in Vienna) figured we could outwit the weather and head the next day to Italy, where the sun was shining. This turned out to be an excellent plan, and once across the pass (or rather, through the tunnels) and into Switzerland, the skies cleared.

We spent a good portion of the day lounging along an idyllic tumbling stream. Hot sunshine, cold water. The foreground full of sun reflecting on water and stone, the background — clear sky and steep green hillsides and small stone houses exquisitely wedged into the hills — so motionless and picturesque as if a mirage out of some other time and plane.

When we were sufficiently saturated with sun, we continued our drive, now along the northern part of Lage Maggiori, Italy’s second biggest lake, which covers over 200 square kilometers.

We stayed two nights outside a sleepy village above the lake. Not surprisingly, tourism was down this season. Although there were some regulations about wearing masks in any shops, otherwise things seemed pretty normal.

            

We enjoyed the lake, especially attempting a stand-up paddle board, did some wishful thinking about the sailboats in the harbor, and enjoyed pasta and pizza.    

Back in Vorarlberg, it was special to join Rebecca’s church on Sunday — the first really official church service I’d been to since March.

Monday featured our one big hike of the week — the Drei Schwester (“Three Sisters”). I like the sort of hike where you can see your goal repeatedly from along the trail, each time appearing somewhat closer.

The final ascent was exciting or scary or both. Besides some cables to offer assurance, there were two ladders and a bit of scrambling. (Notice the funny wooden “stairs.”) On top, we had a glimpse of four countries (Austria, Germany, Switzerland, Lichtenstein), plus mountains in every direction, except out over the Bodensee (Lake Constance).       

The rest of time in the far western reaches of Austria was spent in a very relaxed fashion — walking with Rebecca’s dog, drinking tea, lounging in hammock. And no trip to Vorarlberg would be complete without some good strong cheese!    

Then it was time to head back east; I stopped for a few days near Innsbruck to visit good friends there, and I was joined by my former flatmate Rachel. It was a relaxed long weekend, with good conversations, taking in the beauty of the surrounding landscape and enjoying the antics of an adorable two-year-old.

Gesäuse Nationalpark

In August I spent a week with hiking buddy Stefanie in a national park in Styria (southeastern Austria). It was a different experience than our Tirolean adventures — first, most of the huts were very sparsely populated (largely due to coronavirus restrictions) and, second, we didn’t stay at the relatively high elevation of one of the Höhenwege (“high ways”) but instead descended every day to what felt like the valley floor before tromping back up to our next hut. This level of up and down (with the “down” coming at the start of the day and the “up” when we were more tired) was pretty demotivating. But in the process, we were blessed with incredible views and rewarded with satisfyingly sore muscles.

Day 1: Wien → Mödlingerhütte

Stefanie and I met at Vienna’s main train station about 6:15 a.m. and were soon on our way — even if, thanks to a train delay, we actually didn’t get to the trailhead till around 11 a.m. The damp air and soggy earth told us we had narrowly missed a series of rainy days, which was just fine with us. By mid-afternoon we reached a decision point — turn right, losing a good bit of elevation, to follow a long and undulating path to our first hut, or turn left, heading up and over two peaks before meeting back up with trail option one?

Anyone who knows me well knows that I was definitely excited about option two, even if slightly concerned that the day was progressing faster than we were. Also, neither of us was quite sure what we’d find at the second peak in terms of a short Klettersteig (via ferrata), but I was pretty optimistic, based on previous shared experiences. After some discussion, we did indeed head left and up — after I agreed that we could retrace our steps if from the first peak the path ahead looked too alarming.

Arriving at the first, lower peak, all I could see was the tantalizing prospect of how the trail continued — beckoning along a zigzagging line to the next peak and then coasting across the shoulder of the mountain and disappearing up the valley.

It took a lot of faith to accept that my hiking buddy saw things pretty differently and that the most loving thing to do was to retrace our steps to the trail divide and then continue down, down, down (maybe 750 vertical meters total) to where the lower trail eventually started to re-ascend. As overblown as it might sound, the thing that got me moving downhill was John 15:13 playing over and over like a broken record inside my head.

After the descent, we still had a loooonnng way yet to go — plodding up and down over successive hills while the afternoon waned and dusk gathered. Just before 9:00 p.m., Stefanie got our her headlamp to light the last ten minutes of our way, and then we finally cleared a final strip of forest to see our hut waiting, light shining from the windows as if it were Tom Bombadil’s house and we were footsore hobbits. (To be fair, we probably wouldn’t have gotten there much sooner by the up-and-over route.)

We apparently looked as worn out as we felt — the Hüttenwirtin (hut hostess) served us bitter but warming Zirpenschnaps (pine schnapps) on-the-house.

Day 2: Mödlingerhütte to Hesshütte

We woke up with big appetites, which thankfully the kitchen crew had anticipated! It was fun to see the hut in daylight before we headed out.

The trail led us back down “into town” — and we took advantage of it to refuel for the trek up.

The next stretch of trail was busy — a popular day hiking area and the route to the one big hut of our tour. Above the initial ascent, the landscape spread out like a verdant carpet before leading us to our hut, where we enjoyed some good Austrian fare before retiring to bed; the only disadvantage to the accommodations were the snorers.

Day 3: Hesshütte → Ennstalerhütte 

Day 3 started with views of the sunlight illuminating a neighboring peak and with  breakfast porridge on the lodge deck. Our trail took us up and over a small pass. On the way up, we surprised a Gämse (chamois) out for his breakfast, and on the way down, we ended up chatting with a herdsman out for his morning rounds.

Carrying on, we descended in and out of shade along a mountain brook, covered as fast as possible a stint along a valley road, and then headed back up. The afternoon proved to be more unpleasant than I thought possible on an Austrian hiking trail. After baking in the hot sun along a forest road, our path cut steeper uphill through the woods and grasses. But, it was apparently anything but a popular route and looked far more like a paradise for ticks than a proper path. With the August sun beating down, it was truly miserable, and before we reached the hut, I felt like I was using my hiking polls more than my legs to keep myself going!

However, the less than ideal trail led to an idyllic hut. Seated at a flower-adorned picnic table and enjoying a delicious meal with friendly fellow hikers, the frustration and weariness of the day subsided and gave way to delight in the drama of sunset unfolding before us. We lingered till the stars came out and the Milky Way dazzled.

Day 4: Ennstalerhütte → Haindlkarhütte

The next morning started early, as a handful of folks decided it would be fun to see the sunrise from the nearest peak. By 4:30ish we were on the trail. The Milky Way had swung 90 degrees while we slept, and we added out own feeble dots of lights till the light of day began to arrive. We weren’t the only ones already up — we surprised three Gämsen, silhouetted against the still-dark sky, above them Venus making a last brilliant stand against the coming day.

Arriving at an overlook just below the peak, we were greeted by the glory of pre-dawn, the whole eastern horizon a stripe of read, orange, and yellow above the dark mountains and light gray fog that had settled in the intervening valleys.

 

“The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims his handiwork. Day to day pours out speech, and night to night reveals knowledge. There is no speech, nor are there words, whose voice is not heard. Their voice goes out through all the earth, and their words to the end of the world. In them he has set a tent for the sun, which comes out like a bridegroom leaving his chamber, and, like a strong man, runs its course with joy” (from Psalm 19). 

From the peak, we watched the sunrise — marveling how fast it rose, exclaiming over how it tinged the mountain sides pink…

and pointing out the remarkable shadow the mountain we stood on cast west.   Back at the hut, we enjoyed a well-earned breakfast and headed down again, into a small town, before a short hike up to our next hut. Thankfully, it wasn’t far, as rain moved in and we arrived rather damp — but before the downpour that followed. At the hut, we met up with another friend, Feli, who joined us for the remainder of the week.

It was kind of an odd evening in the hut — there was only one other guest, plus the three hut host/hostesses. We ate delightful Kaspresknödelsuppe (cheese dumpling soup — really quite splendid), while outside the clouds played hide-and-seek with the surrounding mountain walls.

Day 5: Haindlkarhütte → Admonter Haus

The next morning Feli and I did a bit of exploring, following a dry rainwater riverbed. Then Stefanie and Feli headed back down the same trail we’d come up the day before, and I opted for the slightly longer alternate route. There had been a landslide some weeks previously, and I was curious to see what the area looked like afterwards. Because I was about the only one on the trail, I sang a few hymns (after all, it was Sunday morning) and enjoyed going at my own pace, including a bit of “running” down the scree slopes.

The next jaunt started too far from where our descending trails ended, so we took a “mountain taxi” to the next trailhead. Arriving at the hut late afternoon, I still had a lot of energy — or maybe just the wonderful views made me think I did! So, while the others stayed in the cozy hut near the woodstove, I took two further jaunts. 

What amazing views! Layers of constantly changing clouds, with fog/cloud rising from below and shafts of sunlight illuminating fields and softly diffused over distant peaks — along with contrasting swaths of fathomless blue sky and layers of unshakable mountains. 

Back at the hut, we enjoyed bowls of lentils (the one menu option!), which went well with chocolate-banana cake before bed. Again, we were a small crew — just six guests at the hut.

Day 6: Admonter Haus → Hofalm

We awoke inside a cloud of fog, which didn’t bode particularly well for hiking weather. For the first part of the day, the rain held off, and the close clouds and damp forest became its own insular world of white fog, soft forest browns, and intense green.

After another jaunt through town, we stopped under an old oak for lunch, before heading up — as the rain started. I can’t say the rain made for a very pleasant journey, but the skies did eventually start to clear and we made it to our hut remarkably dry.

Our last evening was rather subdued — everyone was tired. I again stayed up later than the others, retreating into a favorite book.

Day 7: Hofalm → Wien

Our last day was uneventful — retracing part of our path from the day before, stopping at another hut, then making out way over a small pass (with intriguing views of the peak at hand — but off-limits due to needing Klettersteig equipment) and then down towards “civilization,” though this time with the train station in view, rather than another hut up the next mountain.

A full week — full of kilometers covered and elevation gained and lost, full of memories shared with friends. Wonderfully empty of phone calls and emails, replaced instead by the pleasure of physical exertion and the beauties of Creation.