Offline Magic

Last Saturday I saw an enchanting performance of "Carmen" on the super impressive stage in/on Lake Constance in Bregenz. It was a looong train journey and a short stay, but so worth it. My Mum, whom I treated to the weekend in Bregenz for her birthday, really enjoyed it too. As thunderstorms had been forecast we were rather anxious that the long trip might have been in vain, but the weather gods had mercy and we enjoyed the performance in perfect summer weather, sunset shortly before the performance and all. Theatres, concert halls and opera houses are among the few places where the audience really sticks to the organisers' no phone/no photos policy. Perhaps only because the glaring screens of their phones would immediately have given you away in the dark. The above picture was taken during the "curtain call" when everyone was reaching for their phones for the first time after two hours of focused and undisturbed listening and watching. It's almost an unreal experience these days to be able to follow a performance and be able to take in every detail without double-screening or replying to some message simultaneously. At the beginning you (or rather I) can't help thinking "this would make a great picture" and are itching to reach for your phone, then you forget about it and let yourself be sucked into the plot and the cool stunts (spoiler alert: the protagonist jumps into the lake at some point). Sometimes I serious long for this period of digital innocence in everyone's lives when this was the norm and not a slightly painful conscious decision or lifestyle trend ("digital detox"). Part of me thinks that it might become the norm again in the not so distant future. We shall see.

Age

Last Saturday, I attended the first 50th birtday party of my circle of friends. Fifty! About 20 years ago, fifty seemed positively ancient to me and while I did not really think about people that age much, it was definitely an age you could only ever imagine your parents or grandparents to belong to and not yourself and your peers. Now that I am not that far away from this number myself, it is neither a scary, nor really associated with "old" anymore. Also, the older I become, the more diverse my circle of friend becomes and the more I realise how immature and self-righteous it is to bitch about people who are in an age-gap relationship or hang out with people way older or younger than themselves. I have learnt that age really just is a number and due to personal circumstances (marital status, sexual orientation, job...you name it) you might feel more affinity to people younger or older than you. Particularly when you fall in love with someone way off the social norm you will immediately be judged and speculations will be made. Older man with young woman? She has a father complex and a gold digger. Vice versa? Desperate woman clearly in denial about her mortality wants a toyboy. He just wants to exploit her and will leave her alone for a hot young chick at the next opportunity that presents itself. We have so many labels and preconceptions and while they might look their age or not that much younger (even though I personally think your attitude towards life is also reflected in a certain youthful look) a lot of 50- or 60-year-olds feel and act a lot younger than some people half their age. Provided I'll enjoy it in good health, I am definitely not afraid of my half-century birthday and have already told my friends to save the date. It's a Saturday, yay!

Deeds Above Words

Yesterday, I broke the silence (of approximately 3.5 months) via a happy-birthday-to-you e-mail to somebody who I never wanted to have silence with in the first place. It just happened and I let it happen as that phone-call I had been hoping for that I believed would clear the air and do away with all misunderstandings never came. (And no, I couldn't just call myself, otherwise I would have). The reply was friendly, but sobering and not quite what I had hoped for. The old me would have fired off a dozen sequel e-mails of novel length to try and "understand" and "get to the core" of what I already understand only too well: that I am just not important enough to this person, never was and never will be. The new me has learnt (and no, that insight did not come overnight) that you just have to accept some things as tough and unpleasant as they may be and it's better for everyone involved if you keep those needy novels to yourself and look out for people who don't suffocate you with words, but impress you with deeds. And vice versa, of course.

One year later

This past week, I had my one year anniversary chez Household Name. Yes, I know. Time flies! Anniversaries are always a good opportunity for a bit of reflection, so here goes. In this year, I have managed to sniff out the "cool kids" who are on my wavelength and build up a pretty good network. I still miss the colourful fun, generosity and creativity of the Firm A LOT and still get baffled by the attitude of quite a few people at my current place of work that can best be described as a mix of passive aggressiveness and refusal to even consider adapting to anything new. What I enjoy most is the fact that not only does my job title contain the word "expert", but I am really treated like one. Working at the headquarter of a multi-national company now as opposed to a little outpost does make a big difference and I like that a lot.

My first months were pretty quiet, almost boring, task-wise. Oh my, how this has changed. Very recently, I gained more visibility than I ever wanted and now have turned into an executive-summary-producing, leadership-meeting-attending machine. Not really something I particularly enjoy for an extended period of time, to be honest and I would not mind if things got more quiet during the summer. All in all, though, I have learned a lot in this year, most of all about myself.

Foreboding

I don't consider myself a nervous traveller at all, despite the fact that I like to be at airports abroad so early for the return flight that the plane might not even have been built. My frequent weekend tripping also is testament to my overall love of flying.
This past weekend I was in Paris, a weekend trip with my cousin (known as Chiquita here) that I had booked months ago and was rather uncharacteristically anxious about in view of the late return flight (scheduled arrival in VIE 22:15) and the fact that when this post goes live on Monday morning I will already be facilitating an event at the office. In a nutshell, I was concerned I would be stuck in Paris due to a strike or other event that would prevent me from getting back to Vienna on time and almost wished I could reschedule. I even packed "nice clothes" and my laptop with charger in case I would be rebooked to a Monday morning flight and had to rush to the office straight from the airport.
Well, my return flight was on time, but the weekend in Paris did get off to a bad start with me receiving a message by Austrian Airlines on Friday morning, about 3 hours before the scheduled departure that the flight was cancelled. What. The. Eff?!? I immediately called the Austrian Airlines hotline and after listening to some canned waltzes managed to get the last seat on a flight to CDG via FRA, the first leg of wich actually left earlier than the original one. I rushed to the airport, only to find out the flight was delayed. As was my onward connection in Frankfurt. To cut a long story short, I got to spend a lot of quality time at both airports and arrived almost 5 hours later than originally planned.
Maybe it was a self-fulfilling prophecy that something had to go wrong, maybe a punishment for worrying to much, maybe a reward that it happened already on the outbound flight.
Be that as it may, I am definitely glad to have made it back on time and am now looking forward to five weeks in Austria.