I have been to some type of church service all 3 weeks that I've been here. The first two were both masses at celebrations, and all three have been in German, but finally, today I attended a very small Protestant church with Markus and his relatives. The organist there asked me if I had ever played in church with an organ because "they go very well together." I chuckled and told him that was certainly something i was accustomed to. After the service was over, I was asked how many protestants are in America, and the question took me by surprise. Apparently, there are only 500ish Protestants in the surrounding area, with Catholicism being the largest religious practice in the region, if not country.
Tradition is a large part of church going here in Austria, and per there usual habit, we accompanied Markus' relatives to a small nearby cafe, which almost the entire church goes to afterwards to socialize. Markus told me the tradition was almost more important than going to church itself!
After talking with the extremely friendly members of their church, we drove a half hour out to a restaurant that sets on the edge of a lake. On our way we saw the oldest tree in Europe: 1000 years old. I couldn't quite wrap my mind (and certainly not my arms) around it. Anyway, the restaurant was a traditional Austrian one (plenty of soup and Schnitzel, which I loved, but I wasn't particularly fond of the fried cauliflower), and it was all you can eat style. Markus' uncle is extremely generous, and had me eat a ton, all topped off with an enormous slice of cappuccino cake with coffee. Markus and I together couldn't finish it.
After eating, we took a stroll around the lake, seeing a small play area near the water. There, I saw a slackline set up in the middle of the park! Apparently it's much more popular here than it is in the States, and apparently I'm out of practice. I couldn't stay on to save my life...but we'll say it was because I was wearing shoes. ;)
When we got back to the station, I met a friend of a colleague's who lives in Vancouver but is originally from Connecticut. It was so weird (and refreshing) to speak to an American in my real, Southern accent (which I quickly readopted after not having used it for nearly a month). I actually had to translate his "Northern English" to Markus so he could understand what he was saying. I felt pretty accomplished.
We finished the night with a spectacular evening at a local restaurant called a buschenschank. It was nestled in the hills with vineyards sprawling away from it in every direction, the restaurant itself an old cement building with red tiled shingles: essentially the exact American conception of a restaurant in Europe. The food was mainly meats that were brought out to us in plenty on a cutting board, with fresh veggies and sheep cheese stuffed pepperinos (which Dad would have loved). With a glass of sweet wine that was grown right next to us, the meal was pretty much perfect.
I came back to the Station and crashed hard after my great food-filled day. I'm sure whatever I burned off cycling to Slovenia I gained back again, plus some.
I haven't been able to talk to my family or girl much, which is sad, but I know they're all doing great from the messages they send me. I'm looking forward to hearing about Jessica's work and coming college (still can't believe that), talking American TN football with Jacob (and hopefully catching up on our movie list some), hearing all about Jen's nee volleyball experiences (I'm so proud she took up my sport!), and telling mom and dad and Virginia all about my amazing stories from Austria. For now, I'm going to spend the next few hours tempting internet fate by trying to write my Scarlequain blog...again. Wish me luck!
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