Shoot the Jockey - not the Horse.

We awoke this morning to snow. It is not heavy snow – more the diet version - and it is not accumulating on the terrace but vanishes as soon as it arrives. But it is snow nevertheless and we are pleased to see it. And it has been snowing all day.

And - in answer to Merisi's question. We Love it! We are cold weather people and just adore winter. The colder the better - bring on snow and sleet!

Sissi is not sure about it at all. She made a trip to investigate and ate a few very small flakes but did not stay long enough to immerse herself in the experience. Monika watched from a distance and was not about to go out on the terrace under any circumstances.

Today I opened up the online version of the Sydney Morning Herald and saw to my delight that I had completely missed a thing about Australia that I hate - the Melbourne Cup.

One of the best things about being in Vienna is not being in Australia for the Melbourne Cup.

For those of you who may not be aware of the Melbourne Cup – it is a horse race. Horse racing is an Australian media-driven obsession – to the extent that some years ago a horse trainer won an Australian “Sportsman of the Year” Award.

The Melbourne Cup is a horse race which the media has turned into a ghastly, frothing, dribbling extravaganza of gruesome schlock which starts weeks before the event and culminates in an orgy of gambling, alcohol and public displays which on a normal day would merit public floggings or prison sentences.

On race day there are live broadcasts ALL DAY by TV and Radio from the racecourse. There are Melbourne Cup lunches at which people get dressed up like drug crazed pimps and where they drink alcohol until they fall unconscious head first into their Pavlovas.

Women at the race get dressed up in funny clothes and hats. Poor tortured tarts with gigantic heels, grotesque hats and tits everywhere totter around the grounds and the bars displaying hats that look like they were designed by Edvard Munch on his second bottle of Absinthe.

People get blind staggering drunk all over Australia and especially at the racecourse and make complete asses of themselves on TV. People queue for hours to bet on horses. There are obligatory office sweeps where you choose a horse out of a hat.

At race time the nation stops and EVERYONE has to watch this gruesome spectacle – which last for about three minutes.

And in the end – a brown horse wins the race. The trainer is a hero and gets a prize, the jockey is a hero and gets a prize, the strapper is a hero and gets a bonus. The owner is a hero and gets a prize. The horse….well the horse gets nothing except perhaps an extra helping of oats – which is much better than if it falls over an breaks a leg – because then they shoot it.

I would change the rules. If the horse falls over and breaks a leg they put the horse in traction and shoot both the jockey and the owner. This would encourage greater horse care. Horses wearing Ugg boots would be walked gingerly around the tracks by the jockeys. No one would mind that - the added bonus would be that the races would go for much longer – probably 30 minutes. More time for alcohol, stripping naked and vomiting on the grass.

For me it was the single worst day of the year – every year. It is singly and uniquely the most fruitless, pointless, shudderingly grisly awful waste of time and energy in the entire history of humanity.

But then I am just a curmudgeon so don’t listen to me.

The Austrians don’t seem to care much about horses – which is just fine with me. Now if they would just stop smoking in restaurants when I am eating we would get on just fine – oh and also don’t let your dogs shit in my street – is that too much to ask? Oh and one more thing – don’t shout at me when I get stuck in an intersection and can’t find reverse – believe me when I say I did not do it on purpose, don’t want to be there and am doing my best to leave.

I tested my new lens in Stadtpark on Friday and got what (for me) are some special shots. Now either the lens is making a difference or I have suddenly developed an ability with a camera that has hitherto escaped me (and this is very unlikely).

Naturally my pictures are mainly of ducks and Cate has suggested that I do a Duck Calendar for 2010.

This is an excellent idea – but for the purposes of authenticity I will have to get the Ducks in season so it will take me a year to complete it – not that I am in no hurry. The Ducks in the photo are in the running for October Duck of the Month.

Incidentally – we walked through Stadtpark today and there are hordes of Ducks – plus a large number of Seagulls (or more probably – Lakegulls). There was also a Zeisel in Ungargasse which I haven’t seen there before – but it must be that time of year – although they don’t like the snow at all.

Friedhof Der Namenlosen

Click to Embigiate (thanks Steph)

Melissa and I went to the Friedhof Der Namenlosen (Cemetery of the Nameless Ones) at Albern Hafen on the outskirts of Wien – next to the Donau. It is tiny and mainly comprises graves of unknown people who were washed up on the shores of the Danube.

There are a few people who have grave markers but most are lost souls who died watery and unremarked deaths many long years ago.

It is a bit remote – and was very bleak - and is apparently rarely visited except on the first Sunday after All Saints’ Day – which happened to be Sunday - so there were hordes of people there (well - at least 10). The graves had been attended to and candles were lit.

It is a not a place I would choose to be buried – but if you drown and get washed up on the banks of the Danube and can’t be identified then I guess you have to take your chances.

It was finally time to take Billy in for repairs.

If you want to meet some friendly Austrians don’t bother going to the Information Counter in the Wiesenthal Mercedes dealership in Wien. There are none there.

None of the three people at the counter had heard of Herr Schnauser - the man with whom I had an appointment - but after sending me to see someone else – who sent me back to them – they said I would have to wait for half an hour.

For what? I asked. I have an appointment with someone unknown to you – why should I wait?

Our relationship deteriorated after this but - following an exhaustive search of the building – we discovered the culprit at the next desk – about 3 metres away. he was carefully disguised in a Wiesenthal uniform so it’s no wonder he was practically invisible.

Herr Schnauser was very helpful and got me to sign many papers before he took Billy away for repairs. Herr Schnauser then introduced me to Herr Gritzmeister who has a cousin in Melbourne. Herr Gritzmeister asked me to sign many more forms and gave me the keys to a very, very small car with manual transmission.
This proved to be a Smart Car. It turned out to be a lot smarter than the driver.

My first act was to get stuck in the middle of a very busy intersection with no way forward – and the inability to find reverse. Fortunately Austrian motorists are unfailingly polite and helpful and made encouraging noises and signs.

One man started to get out of his car – he was apparently coming over to help me find reverse – or perhaps mop my brow - but I managed on my own and we all relaxed. Well – most of us – I couldn’t get my portable navigation system to work and had to feel my way home - but made it eventually.

Melissa and I had lunch at Cafe Diglas today and I inspected the toilet. The door is in working order and turns opaque when you lock it. Provided you follow this simple procedure you can wear any underpants you like.

Don't forget to push the button before you sit down

Let’s get one thing straight Merisi. I don’t usually Blog on Fridays. This only happens when the burdens of my busy and exciting life prevent me from Blogging on Thursdays. I am a member of the Am Heumarkt Bloggers Cooperative and our rules prevent us from doing more than four Blogs each week.

As much as I love what you do I don’t hound you with comments about doing more – and – for example - asking for more pictures of cats. I accept that you are an artist and need to be in a creative mood – and just can’t turn this on like a tap.

Merisi's Blog

You could argue of course that I just sit down and write the first thing that comes into my head – and this is largely true – except that sometimes it is the second thing. And – given the quality of the work recently – I just can’t imagine why any readers want more.

I noted with some horror last week that I have written more than 250 Blogs. Leaping Lizards!

Cate and Melissa and I went to the Leopold Museum on Saturday. We saw exhibitions of the work of Edvard Much and Egon Schiele. These were both men who very obviously had very unsatisfactory childhoods and carried this with them for a long time.

Well not so long in the case of Egon Schiele because he died in 1918 of the Spanish Flu at the age of 28 so who knows what he could have achieved had he lived to the same age as Munch (81). Seeing a just small part of what Edvard Munch could do in 81 years was a bit scary.

I quite liked the work of Schiele because I could come to grips with it but Munch was a bit to Unheimliche for me. This word – which translates as ‘uncanny’ is used to describe the work in the exhibition. I think a better word is ‘strange’.

Cate and Melissa loved it. I am in two minds. One mind thinks that Schiele was a genius and the other one thinks that on many occasions he was just having a really bad time and wanted to knock out another painting to pay the rent. But in terms of expressionism I am a Philistine. I just don’t get a lot of it.

For lunch on Saturday we went to Café Diglas in the Wollzeile – which is a 10 minute walk for us across Stadtpark. Cage Diglas has been there since 1875 and they have sensational Gulasche Suppe.

They also have these toilet cubicles with transparent glass doors so that you can see whether or not they are occupied. When you go in and close the door behind you – and push the appropriate button - the door turns opaque.

Of course if you go in and don’t push the button then everyone outside can see what you are doing. Which is what happened to this unfortunate man on Saturday when I was in there – and doubly unfortunately he had dressed in the dark and mistakenly put on his Grandmother’s underpants.

It was a ghastly show and attracted quite a crowd. It is not intended to be seen by other people - and I wish I hadn't. 

Cate has gone to India where it will be absolutely sweltering. She was not looking forward to the trip because it will be a hard slog for week with endless meetings. She is going to try to get to the Taj Mahal before she comes home. I think she will have had enough by Friday and will grab Ben and flee back to Wien.