A.Z Challenge 13: Monks and monasteries

I have always been fascinated by monks and monasteries. Many years ago, I read the novel The Name of The Rose by Umberto Eco. It takes place in an Italian monastery, and the heroes of the story are the Fransiscan monk William of Baskerville, and his novice Adso of Melk.

Some years later, I was in Vienna, Austria on vacation. I took the opportunity to visit the Melk Abbey. The monastery is an awesome building, on a hilltop by the river Danube. It takes an hour or two (if I remember correctly) by train westward from Vienna.

The monastery had a real Gutenberg Bible, printed by Johann himself, on exhibition in the museum. When we visited, there was a summer camp for kids going on. The boys were playing football outside the monastery, with a monk in black robes blowing the whistle as ref.

 

I find the life of a monk quite attractive, in some ways It would fit nicely with my introvert nature. I could enjoy hours and days in peaceful silence, studying books.

However, I also see a few problems. First, I would probably read the wrong books. Second, I don’t believe in God (most monks do). Third, the counter-natural obligation of the celibacy would probably drive me crazy.  I guess this happens to some monks from time to time.

Let me summarize it in this childish M-poem:

Meeting

Mary

Magdalene in the

Monastery is

Mecca for a

Monk  >;D

Deja Vu: The old jew from Brooklyn

Today D.L.Hammond at Cruising Altitude 2.0 is hosting the Deja Vu Blogfest. The rule: Repost some good old stuff from your archives, as simple as that.

Originally posted in May 2010, this is probably my own favorite from my blog archive:


The old jew from Brooklyn

Last night I was reading some old travel diaries, from university days, when I was a physics student.

Once we stayed in a small youth hostel in Vienna. There were six beds in each room, and separate rooms for boys and girls. In my room I met a small and skinny man, with white hair and a big beard. He was an 85 year old jew from Brooklyn, older than the rest of us together. He had sold everything he owned, and wanted to spend his money traveling around the world until he died. I thought that was a cool thing to do, while waiting for life to fade out.

He would have been close to 110 years old now, if he was still alive. I wonder how far he got on his journey. I hope he made it all the way to the end >:)

Alle Cafés haben ein

Around noon we took the tram down to the city center. We found a free table at Café Havelka. This is a classical Wiener Café, where you can get a good cup of coffee, while reading newspapers or magazines, or just watching people passing by on the street.

The waiter was an old man, with light-blue shirt, black bow-tie and suspenders. Maybe it was Leopold Havelka himself? When he passed by our table, I asked, in my high-school German,
- Entschuldigung, haben Sie ein WC? (excuse me, do you have a toilet?)
He stopped and looked at me for a few seconds, apparently very surprised, and replied
- Ja, alle Cafés haben ein (Yes, every Cafe has one)
- Danke, I said, and ordered another Wiener melange.

(The picture is not from Café Havelka, but from Hundertwasser Haus)

The old jew from Brooklyn

Last night I was reading some old travel diaries, from university days, when I was a physics student.

Once we stayed in a small youth hostel in Vienna. There were six beds in each room, and separate rooms for boys and girls. In my room I met a small and skinny man, with white hair and a big beard. He was an 85 year old jew from Brooklyn, older than the rest of us together. He had sold everything he owned, and wanted to spend his money traveling around the world until he died. I thought that was a cool thing to do, while waiting for life to fade out.

He would have been close to 110 years old now, if he was still alive. I wonder how far he got on his journey. I hope he made it all the way to the end >:)

Vienna State

I'm talking about that great stone building on the corner of Kärntner (I don't have a German keyboard, it wasn't easy to get those damned dots above the a) Strasse and Opern Ring; the Vienna State Opera House. I have been there a few times. It's an amazing place to be, in particular when you have a ticket for the standing places at the uppermost level.

The Vienna State Opera is performing every night, alternating between 3-4 different operas. You know, the great tenors and soprano prima donnas can't sing two nights in a row. Their voices need rest and care, of course. Every day they're shipping the entire scenery for tonight’s opera performance in from storage outside the city, on big trucks.

I've always bought a ticket for the standing places. It's cheap; costs only 2 Euro (about $3), and it's fair; there's no pre-booking, and you can only buy one ticket. If you want to buy a second one (for your partner), you have to go back to the start of the queue. It's about the only queue I enjoy being in, with lots of weird people, from old jews to young cute goth girls.

I usually prefer Italian operas; by Verdi, Rossini, Puccini and Donizetti. Here is one of my favorites; Nei giardin del bello from Don Carlos by Verdi. This aria is written for the mezzo soprano voice, the finest opera voice in my opinion:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=tyyA77d2Rio