Last year, Australia celebrated my birthday week - as it always does - with brilliant displays of fireworks. I was spending my days at the university, working as an RA, and my nights at home, combing the academic world for possible postdoc positions. I didn't know where I would be a month, let alone a year later, but I went down to Darling Harbour on Australia Day to watch the celebrations with the suspicion that my days in Sydney were numbered.
Less than a week later, I came home from kung fu training to find a job offer sitting in my inbox. "Well, Pi," I said to my fearless cockroach hunter, "it looks like we're moving to Vienna."
And by the end of February, here we were. Homeless and unable to put two words together in German, but here.
Less than a week later, I came home from kung fu training to find a job offer sitting in my inbox. "Well, Pi," I said to my fearless cockroach hunter, "it looks like we're moving to Vienna."
And by the end of February, here we were. Homeless and unable to put two words together in German, but here.
Twenty-eight was a big year. Time is supposed to go faster as you get older, but 28 seems to have lasted ages. Maybe because there was so much packed into it.
I visited/inhabited eight countries as a 28-year-old: Australia, Austria, Germany, the Czech Republic, the UK, Hungary, the USA, and Canada. (Ten if layovers in Paris and Abu Dhabi count.) People think it's quite an accomplishment to travel like I do. I think it's brilliant, but less an accomplishment than a capitalisation on the available opportunities. I mean, when someone offers you a job, and that job is in Europe, what are you going to do? Turn them down? And when you find yourself in Sebnitz, Germany, just feet away from the Czech border, do you just sit and look at it? Of course not. You walk across.
I visited/inhabited eight countries as a 28-year-old: Australia, Austria, Germany, the Czech Republic, the UK, Hungary, the USA, and Canada. (Ten if layovers in Paris and Abu Dhabi count.) People think it's quite an accomplishment to travel like I do. I think it's brilliant, but less an accomplishment than a capitalisation on the available opportunities. I mean, when someone offers you a job, and that job is in Europe, what are you going to do? Turn them down? And when you find yourself in Sebnitz, Germany, just feet away from the Czech border, do you just sit and look at it? Of course not. You walk across.
I made great tracks in and around Vienna as a 28-year-old. I've seen everything from art museums and operas to cathedrals and crypts, with the odd Easter market, castle, and Medieval fair tossed into the mix. I've covered most of the Donauradweg between the south end of the Donauinsel and Melk on bike, and I never once lost myself irreparably in the Vienna woods. The latter I rank as one of my greatest accomplishments of the year.
I'm also quite pleased with the große Verbesserung I have made with my German. When I arrived last February, I could count to ten, swear, and say hello, goodbye, thanks, cat, and Switzerland. Now I can read Grünes Ei Mit Speck (Green Eggs and Ham) and ask for my dinner without onions or peppers, please. I can even give instructions for my latest experiment in German, if absolutely necessary. Though I still have trouble with the old lady downstairs. I see her out walking her scruffy white dog and she always tries to talk to me, but it must be pure Wienerisch because I haven't understood a word of it yet.
Twenty-nine is going to be awesome, I can already tell. First, it began on Wednesday with cake and Viennese hot chocolate. You can't go wrong with cake and chocolate. Second, there are already big travels on the horizon - a friend's wedding in Vancouver this summer, a conference in Seoul, and I have a guidebook for Prague that I need to use. Third, eventually it will be summer, and I live in the same country as this view.
I'm also quite pleased with the große Verbesserung I have made with my German. When I arrived last February, I could count to ten, swear, and say hello, goodbye, thanks, cat, and Switzerland. Now I can read Grünes Ei Mit Speck (Green Eggs and Ham) and ask for my dinner without onions or peppers, please. I can even give instructions for my latest experiment in German, if absolutely necessary. Though I still have trouble with the old lady downstairs. I see her out walking her scruffy white dog and she always tries to talk to me, but it must be pure Wienerisch because I haven't understood a word of it yet.
Twenty-nine is going to be awesome, I can already tell. First, it began on Wednesday with cake and Viennese hot chocolate. You can't go wrong with cake and chocolate. Second, there are already big travels on the horizon - a friend's wedding in Vancouver this summer, a conference in Seoul, and I have a guidebook for Prague that I need to use. Third, eventually it will be summer, and I live in the same country as this view.
How could it be less than brilliant?