Here on Earth - the rescue of the Baghdad Zoo

What I want to write about today is a program on the radio „Here on earth“. However, first I’d like to make some cultural observations which I actually make every day being a foreigner in Austria. My flatmate was going home for Easter today and to my surprise he gave me an Easter bunny when he was leaving. Why do I mention it? Because we, Poles, celebrate Easter as well, are Catholics as well, but out traditions differ so much from each other. I learned e.g. at the beginning of my stay in Austria that the people here eat their Easter meal (meat, lots of meat) already on Saturday, while we have to wait until Jesus “resurrects” the next day, on Sunday. Not that I’m religious, but you just grow up in a certain community where people try to maintain some traditions although they often don’t know what their background is. For example my parents could never explain to me why we weren’t “allowed” to eat meat on the Christmas Eve which isn’t the case in Austria. Anyway, in my region there’s no Easter bunny, so I’m kind of exaggeratedly grateful when I experience such pleasant aspects of someone other’s tradition.

One more thing: how can you recognize a middle-aged wealthy Austrian woman? The answer is: her skin is orange, because she didn’t know when to say “stop” at the solarium, she’s got gaudy makeup (especially those bright pink or cherry lips), she’s wearing a fur coat making herself the number one enemy of the Amnesty International activists and she’s driving her sporty BMW which she got from her husband for birthday. Am I wrong?

Now let’s go to the point. I listened to a radio program on the spectacular rescue of the Baghdad Zoo after the outbreak of war in 2004. Lawrence Anthony, a S African conservationist is the man interviewed. He’s the man who initiated the rescue action as he went to Baghdad is spite of danger and motivated Iraqi civilians and American soldiers to help him bring the zoo in order. After Baghdad was heavily bombarded at the beginning of the war, nobody cared for the animals. Lots of them starved to death, some birds were freed, some other animals wounded. Before war there were 650 animals in the zoo and only 35 of them survived when Anthony came. He managed to get people to upgrade the zoo, to bring animals from other locations and ship badly treated animals from a local Luna park there. Anthony praises the exemplary attitude of American soldiers helping at the zoo and one gets the impression that it’s a kind of propaganda. If you take into account that one bad night a drunk American soldier killed a Bengal tiger locked in a cage, you start reconsidering the positive opinions that Anthony expresses. After all this program aims to raise the issue of the value of animal life… One of the listeners calls the station and says that you treat animals like you treat each other. Isn’t it bitterly true in the context of the Bengal tiger story?

Living in Graz

Inspired by Astrid's story about her flatmates, I decided to describe my own experiences in Graz. First of all you have to know that I'm quite pleased of changing places which means that I could move to a new shared flat just every six months. The reason is that I like living in different districts, I like the sheer process of getting used to new surroundings where you can always explore so much and I enjoy making new friends (because I always assume that my new flatmates should become my friends;). What's more, I just adore "collecting" new addresses in Graz which might sound strange. Well, isn't it altogether just a pure expression of my affection for Graz?

Anyway, the first flat I moved in was almost perfect. At that time I even didn't know that I'd live just 5 min. by foot from our institute. Wittekweg, where it was situated, was a 100 m flower strip with quiet neighbours and a friendly caretaker. From one side the street was closed by building walls, separating it from St Leonhard Street and on the other side a narrow river was greeting you at the bend at the entrance. If you add to it that the supermarket and the bakery was opposite your house, you had two tram lines to pick from, an indoor swimming pool 200 m away, you could watch squirrels playing in the trees the first thing in the morning and your flatmate was the most friendly, communicative, reliable and motivating person in the world, you get a perfect picture of how life can go. Unfortunately I wasn't to stay there more than 6 months, because my flatmate graduated and came back to Germany, and a nice family took over our flat. Apropos Sebastian, my flatmate, I really owe him a lot. He was my most patient German teacher who could listen to me for hours, used to correct me when I was making mistakes and praise me when I was making some progress. I'll save the memory of him for my whole life... (at this point I always become sentimental)

Anyway, after leaving Wittekweg and St Leonhard I got a place in a dorm which I thought at that time could be an interesting social experience and the most affordable option. To my misfortune I didn't inform myself exactly what would expect me there. For most people who study in Graz the name of this dorm says all, namely... Hafnerriegel. Yes, the town's "skyscraper" which has become a kind of Balkan ghetto recently. I feel sorry most of all for unaware Erasmus students who are probably assigned to such locations by their exchange supervisors. Poor fellows arrive and are close to tears when they see the state of their room, mould in the bathroom and a filthy kitchen, abandoned already by the previous generation. Honestly, I felt the same. There's not much to tell apart from me living only with men once again. One of them was an Australian guy which I thought might be useful for my oral English practise, but unfortunately he turned out to be uncommunicative. Well, bad luck. After all I stayed only for 3 months (it must be a record ;) and left Graz for the summer.

When I came back in October I was desperately looking for a place to stay and accepted the first offer I got. It means that I'm sitting in a tiny 9 m2 room at the moment, having a view at the grey, communist style Augarten Hotel. Without doubts it's not the most beautiful picture, but at least I can spy on hotel guests having relaxing time in the swimming pool, because this indoor swimming pool is exactly what I can see from my window. Although it's a kind of degradation to exchange Wittekweg's conveniences (among others an opportunity to go for a swim for real) for fantasies about what would be if I were one of the hotel guests, it's still better than Hafnerriegel (I always try to look for some bright sides of life ;). However, when the northern wind blows, I'll be ready to change my place once again...

From Russia with love

After long research I finally came across a very interesting blog of an American guy staying in Russia: http://my-russia-blog.blogspot.com/. Somehow I couldn't find anything for a long time, maybe apart from a crazy half Afro-American family with two sons which decided to preach the word of God in Russia;) This makes me think that Americans don't fit Russia at all. They must be either crazy, or unpatriotic (the everlasting competition between the U.S. and Russia for the control over the world), or... unimagenably romantic (to fall in love with this treasury of the BEST literature in the world).
Anyway, the guy I found teaches English in Vladimir, one of the towns of the Golden Ring, a group of the oldest and most picturesque towns around Moscow. He seems to have a lot of fun there, beeing surrounded by other American teachers. Funnily enough he doesn't mention any unpleasant events which would normally be the main topic of a conversation about Russia. Well, I have to admit I haven't read all his entries yet, but so far so good.
What is more, his blog is a mixture of describing different trips he makes with his friends and a general note on the society and the state of affairs in contemporary Russia. I'll write more on that in the near future.
By the way, I really feel poeple are sometimes ignorant, namely one girl in the English Business class claimed today that Russia's economy in controlled economy! Please, if you're not sure what you're talking about, better say nothing! Perestroika was introduced over 20 years ago! It's not true any more that you can't get essential consumer goods at shops. The companies aren't controlled by the state neither. My request to some poeple is now and then: don't be illiterate, but take a book and improve your knowledge before you express such nonsense.

DIAGONALE sounds familiar, doesn't it?

The DIAGONALE Film Festival is a very special event to me. I’ve been to it for the third time this year, which practically means that I’ve been participating in it on a frequent basis since I came to Graz. Although DIAGONALE is supposed to be a festival of the Austrian films, it’s becoming more and more international every year. Consequently I always try to pick some non-Austrian film to watch (not that I have anything against Austrians, but I’m just looking for something “exotic” staying in Austria). Three years ago I even had a stoke of luck and found a film with Polish co-production on displaced people from the East who were made to live in contemporary West Poland after our country had lost its right to this land after the Second World War. That’s e.g. how I learned something new about the history of my home land.

This year I picked a series of three documentary films telling about children in different, to some extent extreme, life situations. An important point of my choice was that they scratch the surface of our summer semester’s topic – immigration.

In the first one of the films, “being u.m.f.”, we get to know about the legal situation of minor refugees in the Austrian refugee camp in Hall, Tirol. The director focuses mainly on the African refugees, almost all of whom flee alone to Europe. While they wait for the decision about (not) granting them political asylum, they often attend school or work for the community to kill the time. The biggest issues of this piece are whether it’s moral to get refugees to work in professions nobody else wants to do while paying them only 2 € per hour and how difficult it is to be in foreign surroundings without relatives, being dependent only on yourself. You can feel only sympathy for people in such circumstances.

“Gemma Kürtelkäfig” is a story of some emigrant kids from the second generation living in Vienna. We can see that they’re somewhere in between – they belong neither totally to the Austrian nor to their parents’ cultural circle. They speak the native language of their parents at home and German everywhere else. What struck me the most was the sheer idea of the Kürtelkäfig – a kind of fenced sports fields and small park surfaces around the Viennese inner city circle. These awful, tiny, prison-like places situated between streets with heavy traffic become an everyday shelter for the characters form the documentary. It’s where you encounter a mix of different backgrounds and learn how it is to be an Ausländer.

“In den Straßen von Delhi” distinguished itself from other two films as the most professional project. This co-production of ORF and SAT1 documents everyday struggle of a young street child in Delhi. Abandoned by his uncle at the age of nine, Sumid learns fast how to take care of himself. At the time of filming he can’t be older than twelve, but we get the impression that he thinks in adult terms. In specific he works in the streets collecting paper and saves the money in a children bank. However, he doesn’t neglect his school attendance and we can see that he’s one of the more talented kids. His dream is to start his own clothes shop one day and seeing his efforts and his “adult behaviour” we start to believe that he’ll make it one day.
The only doubts I had watching this beautiful documentary were about the morality of making such a film while you know that you’re making use of the topic and there are millions of street kids in India who you can’t help.

An even number

I'm afraid I've got birthday today and the weather couldn't be worse...
There's not much to say apart from the fact that I miss celebrating this day with my parents and my brother. Although it might sound childish, we always used to buy a nice cake and a bottle of chamapgne, and clink our glasses enjoying this special time we had for each other. A friends party followed the day after.
Now it's different - your friends abroad become your family in the best case. Sometimes I wish I were at home... ;)

The first try

How about adding a picture to my blog? In my opinion words backed up by pictures are far more meaningful..., aren't they?

Happy birthday, Verena!

Happy birthday, Verena!