(written on Tuesday, May 3 in Vienna)
It’s official. I love big cities. Big western cities, that is. There is something so alluring about the busyness of them. The variety they offer. The implication that things, important or otherwise, are being accomplished.
I love the convenience of public transportation in western cities. (The differences between Austria and Ukraine’s public transportation are staggering. Every trip I’ve taken here, long or short, has been nothing short of pleasant. Modern. Clean. Not crowded. For the Ukrainian alternative, read my post from training about mashrutkas.)
I love the culture of cities. The multi-culturedness. Walking down a street passing restaurants hosting the cuisine of 5 different nationalities. At any given moment overhearing a conversation in Chinese, Russian, German, French.
I love that grocery stores are in walking distances to apartments, that they don’t have shopping carts because no one buys that many groceries in one go anyways–no need to buy 2 weeks of groceries, just walk over to the store on your way home from work.
I love the action. The activity. People running, people biking, yoga studios, gyms, parks full of people walking dogs.
It’s going to happen at some point in my life. I’m itching to try it: life in a big city.
What has inspired this gush of city love? I arrived in Vienna Sunday night. I had directions from the airport to Valerie’s apartment, but there were a few key details missing. This made me nervous. Although this is not my first vacation outside of Ukraine, the logistics of my trip to America were nothing to be worried about. Prior to this trip, all travel has involved navigating the combination Ukrainian/Russian speaking taxis, buses, mashrutkas and trains, and despite the occasional heartbreaking frustrations, I do feel comfortable travelling around Ukraine. Kiev is like a second home to me at this point, and in any other city in Ukraine, if I can’t figure something out, I can always call a friend for help.
So despite the fact that I knew I would meet more English speakers in Vienna, the unknown made me more nervous than any of my non-English speaking assisted travels in Ukraine.
I guess that makes sense.
But anyways, that nervousness was completely erased as soon as I left the Vienna airport. Literally every single person I have spoken to here speaks English. It is truly amazing, the empowerment such a realization has provided me. Realizing that if I got lost or needed help, there would always be someone who would understand me, and better yet, I would understand their answers to my questions. The freedom of realizing that despite my crappy map skills, I can go anywhere with the help of my English-speaking sidewalk neighbors; that even though I was travelling alone, I could easily ask for help.
Maybe I’m not adequately expressing this, the freedom and relief I feel here in Vienna. I don’t know how to say it better. Maybe you need to have lived in a foreign country where the tourist industry and English are not prevalent for a year and 9 months to really appreciate the relief that comes with looking at bus schedule written in German and only having to ask the person next to you how to get where you need to go. I mean, everybody would feel that relief. But the pressure of travelling without English-language assistance has become so normal to me that I feel like this kind of travel, the kind where I can just ask someone on the street for help, is a luxury.
I’ve come to Vienna at the right time. There are other tourists, of course, but not in overwhelming numbers as I imagine it will be mid-summer. I’ve been able to stroll through parks, museums and palaces with no lines or frustrations.
I’ve been travelling on my own since Saturday, and the trip so far has been incredibly peaceful, not having to worry about what someone else wants to do or see, how fast or how far to walk, where or what to eat. It’s kind of nice, this independent travel thing. But it’s definitely not the way I would always want to do it. While it’s peaceful, travelling alone is also a little lonely. I’ve had a few moments similar to when I’m watching a funny television show alone, and I laugh out loud and turn to the person next to me, only to remember that no one’s there. (Come on, you know you’ve done it too.) I’m convinced that the adventure and discovery of travelling is enhanced by being able to share it with someone.
My PCV friend Julia will arrive in Vienna tonight, but she’ll stay here in the city tomorrow, whereas I’m taking a train over to Salzburg, home of Mozart and some Sound of Music sites. This whole trip has been more expensive than I’m comfortable with. Something about having a job that doesn’t pay anything makes travel a little discouraging for me, knowing that the money I spend will not be replaced anytime soon. I’m really not enjoying walking past clothing stores with new spring dresses, bathing suits and purses that are essentially off-limits to me, and I look forward to life with a job that pays. To not being a poor Peace Corps volunteer flipping out about the 13 UAH (app. $2) increase in mashrutka tickets over the course of my 20 months here that I am increasingly becoming less able to afford as my living allowance has not been adequately adjusted in step with the cost of living in Ukraine. Anywayssss.
Speaking of shopping while travelling, please tell me, who actually shops in these pricey stores like Versace or Prada when they’re on vacation? Vacation is the least likely time I’m going to go blow money on uber expensive clothes, purses or shoes. 1) Because I just spent so much money getting to the place, 2) My spending money goes towards things to do and to eat, which are by themselves already overpriced. I guess what I’m saying is that I feel the most poor when I’m travelling, and shopping sprees in high-end stores are the last thing I could/would do when on vacation. Yet, those pricey stores are ALWAYS in the touristy areas. Clearly somebody richer than I can afford to shop while on vacation.
And now it’s time for me to make a confession: I wrote this post in a Starbucks.
I’ve resisted the Starbucks pull for 2 days now, trying to force myself to stay away from the American restaurants and stores that I can visit at home. But I caved in. I’m weak. And I can excuse myself. Here’s my reasoning: I am not the average American, travelling from America to a country with a unique cafe culture but ignoring that for the comfort of home-style coffee. No, I have convinced myself that the amount of instant coffee and tea I’ve consumed in the last 20 months, and the fact that I’ve only been to a Starbucks once in all that time (when I was home for Christmas) means that I’m allowed to spend too much money on some real coffee in the American colonial power that is Starbucks. Yes, that’s how I justify my actions, and I’m sticking to it.
Two days in Vienna. Next up, Salzburg. Then Bratislava. Then Prague for the marathon relay. Already Ukraine seems like a distant memory, and I can almost forget I’m a PCV, as long as I stay away from store windows.
