Danube-Networkers
Meeting with strangers - now and then
Text: Sylvia Wust
Translation: Eva Linton
1977 in Greece
It was my first trip to Athens, a travel in my youth, with 15. Verena, my room mate and I did not have much guardianship as other 15 year olds as students have and decided to go out in the evening after the sightseeing tours during the day. We strolled around the Plaka, went into the silver shop and started a conversation with the owner. From Austria... Vienna!..would you like to eat something in a real Greek tavern..really ....when.. Can we trust you? asked Verena We really don’t know if women can go out with men without protection....ok, we should pick up the owner of the shop in an hour, after closing time, he would get some other friends together and we would spend a nice evening in a tavern.
Said, done, we picked him up and when we entered the tavern with him, there sat at a big table with a platform with a railing, men and women mixed, like they have just gotten there after work. Musicians were there too, of course they played traditional Greek folk music. Of course we were confused by the menu. We asked the Greek for advice. They ordered everything and stuffed the meals into our mouths. “That is disgusting” I thought at first. Then I thought about Karl May in whose novels Kara ben Nemsi was fed by the sheiks with rice dumplings and other specialities. That was a special gesture of hospitability and would have embarrassed the host if he would not have liked that. So I let them do it, there was wine, the music played, the people sang along and it was a great atmosphere. Once I had to look for a certain room and when I returned, holding on to the railing, a terrible music started, mixed with Busuki, organ and percussion. Suddenly I recognized the melody: It was the Danube waltz. I really travelled so far away to hear something different and then.... Then I realized that the shop owner must have told the pub owner and the musicians that we are from Vienna and they wanted to surprise us with that kind of music and make us happy. I thanked them and thanked also for these nice people and that they took us in as their friends. They paid for everything and even for the taxi to our hotel, I think I don’t even have to mention that.
2002 Slovakia
We, Heide and me, enjoyed discovering the new land. Bratislava (Pressburg) is not difficult to be reached. One and a half hour train ride, from Braunsberg in Hainburg even visible. New land for Heide, I know quite a bit of it already. My grandparents were German but they could have even lived here. I don’t know what this feeling is about, maybe from the Austrian Hungarian monarchy. At least I know that the castle Tevin is worth being seen. We asked about it. A young woman gave us information about it. Just the young people here speak German. The way to Tevin is too far for today, we have to change trains and... we just stroll through the village, look at the art nouveau post office, admire the opera house... something is in the air, something bothers us here. It seems like uncountable hostile glances are staring at us. “They don’t want us here!” I realize suddenly. “Oh my God! How can I just have an idea like this?” Then it dawned on me: an old story from uncle and aunt, they got married in Lublin and had a similar feeling like me now. Back then I could not believe my aunt, now I realized. The Second World War must have caused serious wounds! That is really stupid! We can almost talk to all foreigners in English or French but two kilometres behind the Czech, Slovakian or Hungarian border we can’t even say “Please” and “Thank you”. Some common phrases in the foreign languages would make it much easier.
2009 Africa in Vienna
In the lower hall way of a Viennese train station, from where you can reach all the different platforms, there is a black African trying to sell the “Augustin”. Because I am in a good mood today, I buy a newspaper from him and give him two Euros. He jumps up in the air and says:”Thank you, Mama”.
“What means Mama” I think “Do I look that old already?” No, not really. But in Africa all women are mothers. Maybe it is strangeness for him to meet so many unmarried and childness women in our contrey.
2010 in Bulgaria
Quiet and confident, having a strong charisma, Dimitre Dinev enters the stage. The head of the literature association introduces him to the audience and asks him some questions. The author speaks German fluently, he writes and publishes in German, too, his work is part of the Austrian literature. His just published novel has millions of copies and was translated in “don’t know how many” languages. Why does an immigrant like him speak German so well? He was lucky that he was able to visit a very good German school in his home country and that was supported by the communists. Before Dimitre Dinev starts his lecture, the audience can ask some questions. An immigrant knows a lot, what we don’t know but should actually know. Strange about the whole thing is just that this foreign author seems familiar to me. I don’t need to ask any questions.
I know who he is a man without borders
