ON STANDBY…

This is my last day in Viena. Tomorrow I will sleep in Brussels. Last Saturday we had farewell party in Fledermaus, where all the Teutonic, beer soaked hits sounded: “Zu Spät”, “Aus Liebe” “Lust am Leben” and so forth until (upon my request) “Irgendwie, irgendwo, irgendwann”. Downright proper. Yesterday I gave my aunt and uncle (who came here by bus for reasons that are not relevant now) two suitcases full of things, which saved my life, I would not have managed otherwise. Afterwards I ate Zwiebelrostbraten. The last Krügln will come tonight. They live good, the Viennese. While packing yesterday, my MP3 found its way to a compilation of ballads I had never listened to. Go and imagine, I was packing, running out of time, an incredibly beautiful Autumn evening (Vienna has never been nicer than now, golden and sunny but with a marvellous temperature, and the wind has come back, refreshing), thinking on decay and decadence (okay, thinking on leaving) and listening to Boston´s “More than a feeling”. The song is horribly kitschy, but it fit like a glove (I woke uo this morning adn the summer´s gone… it´s more than a feeling, that I´m leaving something….), and I became melancholic.

Will I miss Vienna? I suppose I will, it has been 11 months. I leave nice people and good memories here. Yet I do not leave any really good friends or great moments. The most intense moment of this year was the first time I came back to Budapest; after a horrible October in Spain with the frigging ICEX 2nd stage selection and a first week in Vienna in which nothing seemed to work, I took a taxi in Keleti, got off in Oktogon and I cried at the image of Budapest streets.

I´m leaving Vienna and, by deconstruction, I´m leaving Mitteleuropa. And that´s hard to bear. I won´t be near Budapest any longer. That I will miss. And I´ll miss the pace of Vienna and my strolls along the Donaukanal; and the view from my window, upon the Donaukanal and Schwedenplatz, the hills of Kahlenberg to the west and the Prater to the east. Mitteleuropa´s rhythm, its two capitals, where one can still see nostalgia for the Empire and some (very faint) traces of Metternich´s restoration. Of less hectic times. I´ll miss the diet of meat (a veg would die here) cigarettes (everywhere) and coffee (anytime).

It hurts to leave Mittleeuropa. I love it. I need the change nevertheless. I feel like it. Time to turn the page. We´ll see how it goes.

“Austria first”,  “Homeland instead Islam”, “Homeland instead Schüssel and Brussels”, “Vienna shall not became Istambul”… The FPÖ´s campaign is the funniest I´ve ever seen. Throw a glimpse in their website. The pic on the right, posing as if he were James Bond. The poster “The patriot, he for you”… I had never seen eyes so blue, ever! And those teeth, O so white. But the oscar goes to “German instead ´nothing understand´”… in Vienna! Where flawless and easy to understand German is spoken. There even are German-Austrian dictionaries. Seeing is believing.

Looking at the other concurrents Austria can breath. The future looks bright ahead.

Within two weeks I´ll have left here. The change will be welcome. I do not feel much sadness. But I will miss Vienna nevertheless, a city I explored and discovered wholly on my own. The Budvar (the Czech stuff, not the American) Krügln in Schweizarhaus, on its dirty beer mats. How could I possibly not like a city where half the bill´s room is reserved for Krügln (half a litre of beer), knowing beforehand that this will be the greatest hit of the menu, and the other half for all other drinks?

The woman from Tabak gives me credit. I went there once to pay 1 € I owed; she wasn´t there so I gave it to a nice old woman who was in her stead. I went back next day and there was my ordinary Tabakfrau (she´s kind, one day I was wearing a suit she told me I was a dazzling vision), whom I kindly said that I had paid off already. She told me not to worry, she had already erased me from her list. She does not know my name, so I asked, out of curiosity, what she had written. “O, der Holländer, natürlich” she said. The Dutch guy. She asked me whether I am from Holland… She´s not the only one, I´ve been asked if I´m Dutch more than 30 times this year, so I surmise I speak German with a Dutch accent… curious, is it! Well, at least that means that I´ve got none of the Spanish typical tics, nor a Spanish accent but… Dutch? I´ve been asked two times if I was Swiss, I do not know if that is a cause for happiness or not, I´ve got a friend who speaks Swiss German and it is impossible to understand

O well, whatever, nevermind. Austrian German is no Standard German; to twist it further, there are a myriad of dialects and accents within so small a country as Austria, so everyone speaks differently: Austrian German. Who gives a toss if I speak with this or that accent? Viennese is worse, doubtless: wös höst du gemöcht ist echt schiach!

Though the plan was to go to Carinthia for nature and lakes, in the end it was Graz, the second-largest city in Austria and the capital of the federal state of Styria. I loved it, it is 1000 times nicer than the more renowned Salzburg, which I founded rather average. The red of the roofs, the green of the hills and the blue of the river Mur make Graz beautiful. It´s got six universities with over 40,000 students. Graz’s "Old Town" was great, no wonder it was recently included in the UNESCO list of World Cultural Heritage Sites. In 2003 Graz was named sole Cultural Capital of Europe. I´m not one for moder architechture (normally) but in Graz the blend shows a lot of taste. Special mention to the Kunstahaus and the Murinsel.

The Murinsel (Mur island) is actually no island at all, but an artificial floating platform in the Mur river. This landmark of Graz has the form of a giant sea shell. Two footbridges connect it with both banks of the Mur. The center of the platform forms an amphitheatre and below a twisted round dome there is a café and a playground. The Murinsel is built for a maximum number of 350 visitors. I don´t know why, but it is nice there where it is.

Sleepless nights. You wake up in an ocean of sweat and confusion. A cold shower is no comfort, since it dawns on you that will be the one good moment of the day. You hit the streets, your stomach knots, you want to puke the coffee. In the Underground, you wish you were dead. Stinks of sweat. The slightest movement or effort could be deadly, once one starts sweating, there is no turning back. No air conditioner in the office: 32 inside. Leave me alone so that I can find a dirty hole and die there. The sweat and my recently grown whiskers make look like Bruce Springsteen after a 4-hour gig. The heat wave hit Austria and is killing me. In Vienna, capital and showroom of the nation, the city centre burns, the means of public transportation closely resemble hell on earth and, in the night, the concrete keeps on beaming out fire. In Steiermark the railway tracks twisted and some trains could not go. I´m dying at the bottom of a pit in the blazing sun, torn and twisted at the foot of a burning bike… and the last thing I see is my heart still beating, breaking out of my body, and flying away. I feel sticky. I feel dirty. And a dirty boy is not a happy boy.

I´m cracking up.

You arrive home at 21.00. You left at 8.00. Used up. The laptop hanging from your shoulders, for you work on a ground floor and someone could rob it should you leave it there. The bastard becomes ever heavier. You gather it already weighs 5 pounds. Little bit by little bit yet steadily it puts on weigh. You can feel it, tough it keeps on looking the same size. You peel your ass off for consultancy and the access of SMEs to Information Society. You give everything you´ve got. You arrive home, check the mailbox. No sooner have you opened it than a bloody mountain of shite flies out. A load of brochures and propaganda. Zielpunkt, Hofer, Solarium Sonnenfreude, Bezirksblatt (Vienna´s first district paper), your average ordinary everyday Chinese Restaurant (Sushi for 2 for 15 €). You name it. Since you just want to arrive home and take the frigging laptop off your shoulders, you pick up all that rubbish, lock, stock and barrel, and take it home. There could appear, amongst all that stuff, the debit card you ordered days ago and is still to be sent to you because the former one simply died. (Post Sparkasse Österreich, quality above all).

You arrive at your apartment door and behold in sheer amazement that not only did the perfidious arseholes overfill your mailbox but they also got here and left the same brochures and propaganda hanging from your doorknob in a very nice bag… that blocks the way of the key into the lock.

To open the door you take it home because, obviously, you cannot leave it there on the floor. Bastards.

April the 20th, Hitler´s Birthday. Nice day for an Austrian Tale.

When it comes to media and press freedom, Austria can be somewhat proud. Wiener Zeitung, first published in 1703, is the oldest newspaper still regularily produced in the world. Besides many regional papers, eight national newspapers vie for the attention of Austria´s readers. The majority of them favour quality over scandal or quantity, what leads to a fierce yet healthy competition and, generally, to good investigative journalism.

Bearing in mind all this competition and such high standards, it is barely believable that sich a pile of rubbish as the Kronen Zeitung, a racist, sensationalist, sleazy tabloid, is by far the most read newspaper in Austria. The sales numbers are astonishing: 3 million daily. Hence, you can easily surmise that the Kronen reachs at least 5 million people. In Austria, where only 8 million people live. The Kronen´s influence upon the nation is believed to be so powerful that no national decision or project can go ahead without its greenlight. They had a lot to do with Jörg Haider´s ascent to power, to put the most easy example.

On Sundays in Vienna one can take the newspapers from plastic bags on the streets. In theory, they are not for free, there is a little box for the coins. But one can take the newspaper without paying. That´s what I do without any qualm; furthermore, I deem spending a single dime on such a load of shite as the Kronen a sin.

It reads easily though. And it is always funny, when not taken seriously. Many tales of gore, most of the times perpetrated by foreigners, with Serbs and Turks being the bad guy in almost 80% of the cases (not that these things don´t happen, rather, they just only inform about these). The highlights are the column wirtten by the Archbishop of Sankt Pölten, the readers´ views (rumour has it that the Krone itself writes many of these), and the naked babe picture of the first pages. Good journalism: the cover for the pope, and the 7th page for the naked girl photo:

Also, the propaganda of the far right party FPÖ usually finds a place in the Krone. They are against immigration, naturally. Immigrants steal the jobs from the hands of the hardworking Austrians, and under their noses at that, blah, blah, blah… Yet the average ordinary everyday Kronen Zeitung´s sales force does not look very Austrian:

Curious, is it!

But the Gold Medal doubtlessly belongs to Herr Wolf Martin and his poem section „In der Wind gereimt“. Today, Hitler´s birthday, he always dedicates a „poem“ to the Führer, so I though I might as well take advantage of such a great day to write a post on the Kronen and compile some of Wolf Martin´s greatest hits here. They throw some light on how the Kronen is.

Kronen Zeitung, 20th of April, 1994. A pearl like this would trigger a scandal in Germany. Nothing of the kind in Austria, where it is read by a 60% of the population.

"Today I celebrate, when I´m allowed to, Adolf´s birthday, who was once the first man in our nice country. A personality through and through. We´d need him today. He integrated the people, perfectly representated the State. Our nowadays leaders undoubtedly pale in comparison. He was a revolutionary, so at the beginning it was hard, the reactionary forces even incarcerated him. Yet destiny often changes, when it comes to politics. In his last days, his party led the state. He was honest and legal, a real model, a patriot to the bone. What a man!"

Herr Wolf does not seem to like jews, either, though there are not many in Austria. In 2000 he wrote:

"By no means should we fear, that jews today flee Austria. For even the Haider-eaters live better in the „Nazi country“ of „blue shame“ than in their beloved holy land“

As for the enlargement of the EU, Mr Wolf thinks the new members are not rich enough to joint the brotherhood. 2005:

"Does the EU really need Poland? It should take Norway instead! And brave Switzerland would be more useful than the Czech Republic. Yet these two, who get the lead, say no with all their hearts."

 Meanwhile, Haider keeps on stealing the show by tearing off the town shields written in Slovenian and German in Carinthia…

There is not a single internacional bank in Vienna (no Deutsche Bank, no Credit Lionesse, no Citibank, nothing); neither is there Institut Goethe, nor Alliance Français… I could go on for hours. Hypermarkets are banned by means of a law that limits the maximum area, and their opening hours are strengly regulated. With such a desolate view unfolding before one´s eyes, it is no wonder that none of the international players want to enter Austria. And the consumer´s freedom of choice is as limited. One must do the shopping from Monday to Friday, never any later than 19.00, and only in small supermarkets (all Austrian or German-bought) that invariably display the same range of products at very similar prices. When one does not manage to do the shopping on time, there is no other alternative than going out for dinner, thus making another contribuition to the Austrian GDP vía Schnitzel or that of Turkey swallowing a kebab (these abound and open till the small hours indeed).

Another thing that Vienna lacks and I sorrowfully miss are low cost airlines. Schwechat, Vienna´s airport, must be the one airport in Europe from which no low cost airline operates, apart from Air Berlin, whose prices are passable yet by no means lowcost. Schwechat´s taxes are so high that setting a base there would not pay off at all for, say, easyJet, for these taxes go straight to the final price of the ticket, making it so expensive that it could not be deemed lowcost any longer. This allows the national-flag carrier, Austrian Airlines, to offer reasonable yet not cheap flights, thus wiping the competition off Austria. And not all the destinations are served at these reasonable prices. London, Paris, Berlin… one can get them for 150 €, give or take. Madrid, Brussels, Amsterdam (those that Sky Europe does not offer cheaper from Bratislava, one hour from Vienna, and whose airport is greedily targeted by Schwechat´s managing authority; the proximity of the Slovak capital has them pretty vexed) are nevertheless offered at prices from 300 € upwards. In other words, a bloody rip-off, mailnly now, the days of the low cost revolution, when a flight that costs more than 180 € is already expensive. For low cost airlines have changed our lives in more than one way. I miss them here in Vienna, so I just wanted to say something about that heavenly relief for one´s pocket that low cost airlines are. About a year ago, there appeared an article in The Economist that made low cost airlines justice. Take a look at it. Let´s fly, shall we?

Brussels is full of monuments to the “builders of Europe”. There is the Schuman district, the Monnet circle, the Spinelli building. It may now be time for a Stelios Square or a Boulevard O’Leary. For in recent years, Stelios Haji-Ioannou and Michael O’Leary, the two pioneers of Europe’s low-cost airlines, have done more to integrate Europe than any numbers of diplomats and ministers. They have helped to create a new generation for whom travelling to another European country is no longer exotic or expensive, but utterly commonplace.

On a recent Friday night at Stansted airport, near London, it was easy to see how people’s lives have changed. There was Ettore Thermes, an Italian financier, who commutes every week between his home in Rome and his office in London and says “I use the plane like a bus.” Or Suzy Romer, a Scottish student visiting her boyfriend in Bilbao, who noted that “what these airlines do is let you live in two countries at once.” Then there was a group of middle-aged men and women, who schedule weekends away in Europe around the fixtures of Leicester rugby club: that particular weekend they were heading for Bergamo in northern Italy. And there were American backpackers marvelling at the fact that their flights to Barcelona had cost the same as their train tickets from London to Stansted. None of these people had paid more than £50 ($95) for their flights. All agreed that they were taking journeys, and indeed making choices about their lives, that would have been quite impossible before the low-cost revolution.

Indeed Europeans are now so blasé about hopping on a plane that confusion can easily result. Last summer your correspondent got chatting to a British traveller still hanging around the airport in Rodez, in France’s Massif Central, more than an hour after the arrival of her Ryanair flight. “My friends will be arriving by boat soon,” she asserted confidently. On further questioning, it emerged that she thought she was on the Greek island of Rhodes.

Confusion, if not perhaps on this scale, is understandable. The network of low-cost routes around Europe is huge. From Stansted that Friday, Ryanair alone was flying to some 70 different destinations, as far apart as Aarhus in Denmark and Zaragoza in Spain. EasyJet was flying to 25 cities, with a further 25 served from Luton. And although the low-cost revolution began in Britain and Ireland, and is still best-established in these two countries, it has now spread right across the continent.

The new EU members in Central Europe are the latest to catch the bug: they have a favourable combination of low labour costs, interesting new destinations and populations eager to taste the new freedom of travelling west without a visa. Wizz is based in Hungary and Poland; SkyEurope flies from Slovakia and Poland. In Germany Lufthansa now has 12 low-cost competitors on domestic routes. Some newcomers such as Air Polonia and Italy’s Volare have gone bust, but other new carriers seem to pop up almost every week. The industry is still expanding rapidly. Low-cost airlines carried 80m passengers in Europe in 2004, up from 47m in 2003. They have over 20% of the European market today and may reach 40% by 2010.

The inspiration for the low-cost revolution came from America, and particularly from the success of Southwest Airlines. The British and Irish were the first to pick up on the trend, in the early 1990s. As Anglophone countries, they are often quicker to copy ideas from the United States; and their relatively flexible labour markets, affluent consumers and island geographies also encouraged low-cost carriers. The surge in British holidaymakers buying houses in France is closely linked to the rise of low-cost airlines. And it is not just travellers who feel the benefits. Entire regional economies have felt the impact. The city of Carcassonne in south-west France reckons that the 235,000 passengers who arrive every year on low-cost airlines have created over €270m ($360m) of extra economic activity.

Inevitably, there are grumblers. Many believe that rising oil prices and increasing competition must lead to a big shake-out in the industry. Even Mr O’Leary has warned of an impending “bloodbath”. Some of the prices on offer are so low that one wonders wickedly whether some of the airlines might not have a more profitable sideline: smuggling? piracy? But even if a bloodbath did take place, it seems safe to say that the low-cost habit is now so firmly established in Europe that the days of rip-off airfares will never return.

So much the worse, groan environmentalists, who complain that the spread of low-cost airlines is hugely polluting and a prime contributor to global warming. The European Commission in Brussels is looking into raising “aircraft emissions charges” to take account of their environmental costs. The commission is already unpopular with Mr O’Leary for ruling that Ryanair received illegal state-aid from the local government in Charleroi, its Belgian base. The low-cost airlines are also angry about new EU regulations passed last year that could increase compensation for passengers whose flights are cancelled.

Yet nobody should lose sight of the fact that the Eurocrats and the low-cost carriers are natural allies. The conditions for Europe’s airline upheaval were created by EU legislation. Through a succession of liberalisation packages, the commission broke the power of national flag-carriers to monopolise routes between and within European countries. It is EU law that allows a low-cost British upstart such as easyJet to compete with Air France on such lucrative domestic routes as Paris-Toulouse. By allowing newcomers to enter the market, Brussels has achieved that rare thing: an unambiguous triumph both for European consumers and for the ideal of “ever closer union” in Europe. When they have stopped arguing with Mr O’Leary, the Eurocrats might consider putting up a statue to him.