Schmiedgasse 25

Ok, so, clearly there is much to be said about what has happened since finding our apartment and signing the lease and getting the keys and now being in the process of giving it some love. But. Before I do all that, this is what has been on my mind today: the house I live in (or, that I am going to live in) is four hundred and sixty years old!

It just sort of blows my mind. The doorway in the kitchen is only 162 cm high, so that even I have to duck to pass through it, and I can't help but imagining little men and women from 400 years ago passing through the same frame-- without hitting their heads.

I guess it probably has to do with my being Canadian: most of the over 400 year old buildings that I have seen have been churches or little stone things in Ireland and those always have that ancient air about them. I have just never imagined living somewhere that feels like it should have an entry fee. It doesn't seem to affect Christian so much, but then again, his house in Eugendorf has a well.

[I have sort of got the impression that,] my parents are worried that the apartment is a bit of a hole, which I guess is reasonable when you hear that "it has really low doorways, a wood burning stove, an oil-heater, exposed roof beams, uncovered wooden stairs, and a toilet smaller than my closet. Oh, and it is in the narrowest house in Graz". But, these are all things that contribute to its charm.

Instead of writing more about how I like it despite all its idiosyncracies, I'm just going to post some pictures to give you an idea. OK? OK.

The only thing we have in our fridge at the moment is...


Christian built the first fire in our wood burning stove.



I measured: this doorway maxes out at 162 cm (5"3).



This is the living room which faces the street and is at the front of the house. I think it looks much narrower from outside than it feels on the inside.



This is in the stairwell at the first floor. It still works and I think that it's lovely.


Apologies for the night-time photos, but it gets dark at 4:30 here and I haven't gotten there before twilight yet.

While I am waiting for the photos to upload, I am doing research about how to build a fire that will last all night. The upside-down fire is looking most promising at the moment, but if you have suggestions, I would appreciate them.

And on Friday the 13th, of all days.

There has apparently been some strange backlog of the luck that was destined for me, which seems to have resolved itself in the past 24 hours. Yesterday was Christian's and my four year anniversary, which is to say that we have been dating for a ridiculously long time, and it was already a bit of luck that we still like each other after so long.

C. had yesterday afternoon free, so we were going to the bookstore together to check out (i.e. read and not buy) some books about Slovenia, as we are planning a trip to Ljubljana this weekend, a belated birthday present from Christian to me. Right as we were leaving my cell phone rang. It was a man speaking German, and I understood about half of what he was sloshily (his dialect, I mean) explaining to me. As the conversation seemed to be concluding without me knowing anything except that he had seen my CV and wanted to meet me today at 6 pm, I finally asked straight out what he was talking about, and figured out that I had just set up my very first lesson as an Teacher of English to Speakers of Other Languages. So, luck strikes a second time.

Our dinner at the Starcke Haus, a little cottage half way up the Schlossberg, was lovely. Since that was basically contingent on the success of our relationship, we'll just count that as part of Luck's first strike.



Thennnnn, this morning, we were, as you know, supposed to visit a little apartment at Schmiedgasse 25. I don't want to jinx it, as we haven't signed a lease yet, but it seems we have found a home... Third strike of luck.

After a nice cafe breakfast - which we thoroughly deserved after arriving at the apartment punctually at 8 am - we came home and made arrangements to sign the lease next week. Christian left for school, and I was tidying up our cake and wine from last night. I went upstairs with some dirty dishes and... was greeted with the sight of a huuuge parcel from my mother: sent over a month ago, presumed missing or at least sent back, containing clothes, cookies, and comfort. Sighhh...

I have this lovely image of some cosmic drain pipe directed at me that contains all the luck/happiness that is destined for me, that has had some clog or hairball or something for the past couple of months, that is now clearing. I have a boyfriend who loves me, a lesson to teach, a place to live, cookies to eat! Relief.

By the way, Schmiedgasse 25: the narrowest house in Graz, and 460 years old.


That top window you see will be our living room, and then there is a small kitchen, a staircase, and two more rooms at the roof level. Pictures will follow keys. Until then, I am glowing.

Lost in Translation

Austrians do not get knock-knock jokes.

Exhibit A: told C. various gems from my childhood. He did not laugh.

Exhibit B:

I said, now you try.
Christian said:"Knock knock!"
"Who's there?"
"Christian"
"Christian who?"
"Christian Witternigg"

Much giggling ensued.

Not much to report from this week. I don't have more pictures from the party yet. I spent a lot of the week on the internet looking at apts. and then visiting said apartments. I saw a couple that I like, but we have been looking for so long that Christian thinks our standards should be correspondingly high.

In being-allowed-to-stay-in-the-country-news, C. called the interior ministry and spoke to a very helpful man there, so I that I will hopefully be able to make some concrete progress on Monday. Not having anything to do here is starting to get to me, especially as my friends, who were previously more than happy to have coffee with me at any hour of the day, have now gone back to school or begun studying for exams.

We are in Eugendorf again this weekend, holing up away from the city. I am missing my family a bit right now, as I know that most of the Peacocks are in Waterloo celebrating my Grandma Peacock's 90th birthday and doing other entertaining family reunion things that I hate to miss.

Finally, that red velvet cake... was sort of a miss. Did you know that Europeans do not use measuring cups? Let's just say I need more practice with this whole "scale" thing. Also, Euro cream cheese ≠ N.A. cream cheese and that = cream cheese icing that ≠ good. After sneaking finger-dips into it for a week, I finally threw it (and the cake) out yesterday. Baking was honestly so ridiculous that next time I will try to photo-document it. I have much respect for generations of Hausfrauen that have made such lovely pastries either by free-pouring or weighing their ingredients. Anyway, sad face at inedible cake. Sighs of contentment at having C's grandma's raspberry/whipped cream roulade cake to supplement it. Oh, and, did I mention I almost had a breakdown in the supermarket - after being there for over 90 minutes - because everything has a different name here.....

Anyway, lots of nice things have different names too. For example, the delicious double Americanos that they make are called "ein Verlängerter", and the 1 Euro gelato you can get everywhere is called "Eis". Just to end on a positive note. Bussis.

PS. Most of these are really not that funny.

PPS. Except for this one.

UNDER DEVELOPMENT

Christian is going back to school tomorrow, so today was somewhat a tying-up of loose ends. We tied up summer and made valiant efforts to find an apartment, which is going at a slightly better pace than before, but is hindered by Christian's new work+school schedule. Luckily, I am over needing him to go with me, so I will be visiting some places by myself this week, and obstinately expecting the landlords to understand/answer my still-somewhat-garbled German, that has not yet completely come back to me.

Our summer send-off included climbing the Schlossberg and having a picnic on this stretch of grass above a well, that you have to climb over a fence to get to. It is perfectly south-west facing and tilted at just the right angle to feel like the incline of a beach. With brie, and baguette, and beer and books, and tomatoes and some paté-like meat called Streichwurst, we lay in the sun for the mid-afternoon until going to check out an apartment on Annenstrasse.

After the apartment visit we split up, and while Christian went looking for school supplies, I went for a "grosse Braune" on the Murinsel, and then read my book until the sun went behind the trees and the teenage couples around me got too close. Since then I've been looking at more apartment ads - they all start to look the same after a while - and then we are going to C's parents house for dinner and our Tuesday night TV program, which is so shameful I cannot even mention it here... on my blog.

Anyway, we'll see how I do on my own tomorrow. Project Find-Christian-a-completely-amazing-25th-birthday-present is still underway, as are a ridiculous amount of other projects.

Do I want to live in Graz's version of the Bronx?

We are looking at apartments in a neighbourhood that has basically completely escaped gentrification. Despite this/Because of this/Having nothing to do with this, the neighbourhood is also a bit sketchy; it's not dangerous, and honestly, having never been to the Bronx, I don't know how accurate Christian's comparison was, but for me, it was like the St. Henri to our current neighbourhood's Mile End. Lots of immigrants, lots of kids hanging out on street corners, Turkish teenagers on scooters: none of these are really reasons not to take the apartment, but as we were biking around and the sun was going down, I couldn't help feeling like I wouldn't feel that comfortable walking home alone at night.

In its favour, this neighbourhood is inexpensive but still central, contains our favourite club (Postgarage, home of the Worst of the 90s parties and Russian Style Disco, etc.), is near a really cool vintage store, and contains two apartments we have both looked at and liked. Also comes with accompanying cred of living in a neighbourhood completely devoid of 'Bobos', the Austrian equivalent of yuppies.

Against it is the fact that while Postgarage is right around the corner, Postgarage is bordered by a park is definitely sketchy, and a little bit further down the street is a Mill*... Like a Quarry, next generation. Finally. I grew up in Mount Royal. I never had to learn street smarts. When we looked at the apartment today, I accidentally left my purse in my bike basket. I don't know if I have what it takes to live there.

What do you think?

*Christian sent me the link to the Mill's website to contrast my creepy impressions about it. I don't know... That font is pretty sinister.