Author: Stefan

It may sound contradictory but I have to admit, when it does happen, it can sometimes make me feel quite…lonely. Humor. The kind that finds you when you are not in a hurry. When you let your gaze wander. When you might even tilt your head to the side a little bit. I’m pretty sure that countless of people have seen this place and that sign long before I came across this subway station. I’m also pretty sure that in many of those people’s minds a certain filter kicked in just the second after they have spotted it. “Too flat.”, “Too embarrassing.” “Too infantile and immature.”, “Too vulgar.”

For me, it’s often the opposite. Details that make me cheerfully giggle. With a niceely lasting echo in mind too. Even if I end up being the only one who appreciates such kind of jokes or humor – as offensive as such signs might sound to English-speaking people. Or not.

Speaking of contradictions. “Vienna is different.” is or was one of the more legendary tourism slogans of Austria’s capital. Vienna is indeed quite different. On so many levels. I am sure that I will touch upon these contradictions a few more times here on our blog in the coming weeks which is why I want to leave my today’s entry with a quote from a song. One which I too unexpectedly came across just a few days ago. It’s a song by Austrian Jazz guitarist Wolfgang Muthspiel called, of course, “Vienna” and it’s deeply honest lyrics was again something that made me giggle and smile ever since I’ve heard them for the very first time…

The City is grumpy and wet,
its Secrets beg to be kept.
The Market turns into a Mall,
the Airport is ugly, the Thinking is small.

But when you come from outside,
this is a good Place to hide.
And you’ll be fine
because Vienna has time.

Yes, Vienna has time. It always had. And humor too. And…a handful of unintentionally explicit (and hopefully amusing to others as well) street names.

7F72+9J Vienna

It’s one of this tiny, little, kind of secret spots at my working place. Hidden in plain sight it sits there in between various other, way more “screaming” attractions. It’s a decades old Backlit Miracle for me and again it’s a sad fact that photos are so very limited in what they can actually bring to other people’s senses. It’s usually not only the sensation of all those different shades and colours that shine through that window but also how each and every Patchwork Piece there feels when gently touched. My favourite one is the one that looks quite bumpy whereas it’s actually pretty smooth with just a little bit of ups and downs inside. How poetic, how metaphorical all of that sounds now that I’m writing that…

 

87F4+MG9 Linz

After all my journeys to foreign countries it’s Haribo, Kellogg’s, Heinz, Knorr, Pepsi-Cola, Red Bull and all those other transcontinental brands that make me realize how far globalization has advanced in the past two decades. Uniformity everywhere. Boring uniformity. No matter if it’s on the shelves inside a Spar or Billa supermarket from over here or all the equivalents that I have been to in Japan, Germany or, of course, the U.S..

But then, sometimes, unexpected things happen. Things that are not only unbelievable but – at least for my humble but curious, far-travelled mind of an Austrian supermarket consumer – stunningly unbelievable.

The case: on the American East Coast – a painful ankle. Someone’s seeking advice from “Nurse Stefan” on the other side of the Atlantic. My suggestion: the application of a so-called “Topfenwickel” – something that’s a very traditional and very proven home remedy over here in Austria – particularily for any of such unwanted, uncomfortable medical conditions like inflammated ankles. The very basic principle behind the “Topfenwickel” is to absorb heat. With cheese.

What follows is a look into my dictionary. It says that the German word “Wickel” translates to “compress” in English – niiice. However, the word “Topfen” yields no result or translation at all. Nothing. Only the German (not Austrian) variant of this word – “Quark” – translates to “curd.” Hmm. Does that really fit? Suspicion rises. Could it be possible… what if…could it be…that something like Topfen or Quark…does not even exist in the U.S.?!

Indeed. In my research, I come across recipe adaptations by German emigrants who eagerly exchange views and opinions in various forums about which American dairy products most closely match the consistency and taste of German Quark or Austrian Topfen. Unbelievable, right? What is commonplace in my supermarkets over here is apparently nowhere to be found in the land across the Atlantic!

What remains is the dilemma of being unable to bring my advice, the Topfenwickel, to fruition. We nurses often have the problem that we find no peace until another, alternative idea is brought forward…hmm…where was that forum about American substitute products again? And does the ankle still keep on hurting?

XRJF+8M Laakirchen

From the bottom of my heart, I say thank you, Sarah. For that one, so unexpectedly enlightening sentence that emerged during a cheerful evening conversation between us about half a year ago. And that has since proven to be such a unqiue and loyal companion for me. So many times. I’m saying this because it’s precisely this sentence, and the memories and feelings it evokes, that keep making me smile and giggle every time I pass by the above-posted picture that hangs in the nursing home where I am working.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls – “Buama und Mädels” (as we say in the deepest Austrian slang) – exclusively for you, the visitors of our fine blog, I would like to present now the two truly unique Austrian counterparts to Rhode Island’s lighthouses and beaches! The alpine pendants to the usual maritime Atlantic motifs. The Austrian “twins” of many tourist’s dreams, the “Cliché Cousins” so to say – or, maybe even funnier, the centuries old “siblings of romantic merchandise”.

A curtsy and a wink to Mountains & Lakes, please. If Lighthouses & Beaches are the go-to for many photographers in Rhode Island, then these are the “undying evergreens of a muse” for many creatives, businessmen, souvenir makers, and painters from over here – on fridge magnets, postcards, coffee pots and/or throw pillows (to name just a fraction of what’s really circulating out there).

And now I would now like to raise my glass for a very, very special “anniversary toast mix”: “Glück auf!” and “Heave Ho!” to this truly wonderful similarity of slightly overused motifs and all tourist clichés in general, to two full years and  the unbelievable number of a 100+ posts here on the Photograf*in Blog, a full 8 years of a fulfilling and inspiring transatlantic friendship, and perhaps also to the curious fact that it has indeed been half a year now since my unforgettable and transformative trip to Sarah and the U.S. (and bringing the above sentence with me!). Year three, here we go!

2XWJ+99H Eberstalzell

Heavy, stiff, stuck, clumsy, petrified – a few adjectives that currently feel like a mirror to me. The silhouette of an intention, a paused motion and that ironic realization that certain Gorgons might have also had some pretty rocky moments in their lives. And now? Of course, listen closely. Mainly inwards. And remember what it feels like to be tickled. That should suffice, I think.

3WV3+38H Edt bei Lambach

Many things, un-obviously.

First and foremost, I too would like to take the occasion of that 101st post on our blog to express my joy and excitement about how we have been continuously filled and maintained it with vivid content for almost two years now. 101 posts over nearly two years…how time flies. Once again, I must say that it doesn’t feel like that at all; everything seems to happen much too quickly. As it happens way too often for me with things that I simply enjoy doing…

I would also like to use this special post for another matter as well. A somewhat melancholic one. It’s about the fact that I have now completed two major trips. Whenever I finish something big and there’s no new, significant challenge on the horizon, that’s when I truly begin to reflect, reminisce, and indulge in memories. Even though I am often joyfully awestruck like a child during a trip or in the middle of the most wonderful moments of far away places, it’s always with a delay that the true size and impact of many memories, moments, and encounters reveal themselves to me. There are many beautiful things that become even more beautiful in retrospect, but then there are also certain things that go in a different direction. Things I would have liked to have done beforehand. Things I had even firmly planned to do, but for various reasons overlooked and ultimately forgot. And which I only unfortunately remember after the trip ends, when the hustle and bustle has subsided…

There are a few honestly. Bigger and smaller ones. This one might be right in the middle of the whole spectrum. And it’s finally time to take it out into the public (and of course to Sarah) in the 101st post of the Photograf’in Blog.

It’s about how, six months ago, I had a definite plan to spend at least one whole evening with talking to Sarah, face-to-face, about all things concerning our blog. Not just to chat about it (which we sometimes do of course), but to really—deeply—discuss it. What are our thoughts on it? What moves us about each other’s posts? What drives us to keep shaping it week after week? What are the things we would like to further develop together or individually – stylistically, in terms of content or otherwise? In which direction do we want to evolve—personally and as blogging photographers? Are there things we dislike? What should we change or avoid to do in the future? Are there aspects that could or should be coordinated? Are there things we haven’t tried yet, that we should discuss before implementing them? Which specific blog posts should we finally celebrate in person—perhaps even with a nice glass of Whaler’s beer—and talk finally personally about and in depth?

These were questions that unfortunately remained in my suitcase. Although we do exchange ideas about such things from a distance, it’s just not the same as doing that sitting next to each other…

And so, I want to nudge this forward a little bit here. Perhaps for the next trip when we meet in person again.

As for why I do this, what’s all of that for…for me…

…because it tickles me anew every Saturday…it doesn’t let me rest (in a good way)…it challenges and relieves and fulfills me…because it also takes a good deal of courage to share this with the wide world—but especially with Sarah (whatever happens to come before my camera or through my mind)…and because it is indeed a true labor of love…

Ah, and the picture? It is of course brimming with symbolism. It was taken not far from where the opening picture *001 was created. This time, however, it’s a dandelion meadow, and in it, a sky-blue bamboo bowl with white, wooden toy-blocks. For me, it’s all the most beautiful dream logic, free and open to all kinds of interpretations. Everyone is welcome.

May this blog continue to be like the fishing line stretched between the houses by the children in the Swedish town in Bullerbü – where that line was always used to exchange lovely and surprising messages with each other all the time.

This one’s for you, Sarah! Prost, Cheers, and Skål! Let me also raise a glass for our Blog and everything in between and beyond!

3WGJ+GFX Fischlham

Mid Jetlag. One of the many conclusions: All’s a traveling Circus, on the move. Lacking a true home, having many instead. No matter where you go, there you are.* No, no. Don’t say where we are! Once we know where we are, then the world becomes as narrow as a map. When we don’t know, the world feels unlimited.** Fear ist the strongest emotion, the strongest motivation is love! If a man violates the law of love, he’s punished by one of his strongest instincts.***

* Buckaroo Banzai, ** Liu Cixin, *** Rainer Werner Fassbinder

4XWG+H98 Wels

It’s been just over a week since I arrived in Japan. This is my third time having the privilege to immerse myself in this country.

Here and now, more than ever, at this very moment it would be a Haiku that would be more than just appropriate to go hand in hand with the above picture. One like Sarah loves so much to write. One that skillfully weaves together all the feelings, all the impressions, the “alienness”, the comfort, the inspiration, the Wanderlust, the Fernweh – of course the laughter too and all the indescribable contrasts of that place over here. In just a few lines of text hopefully. Precise enough to leave ample space between the words for one’s own thoughts and experiences. Whether they stem from personal encounters in this country or, as it was for me for a long time, from a longing for this culture and its uniqueness. My Haiku would probably speak of the pace of life here. How many things are wonderfully slow over here. It would mention the noise and sensory overload, yet highlight how quiet it can be amidst the megacity. And it would conclude that laughter, tears, and Google Translate can overcome many of the numerous cultural and language barriers – not too bad at least.

Or would I choose a completely different Haiku? One that sketches traveling itself. Embracing the unfamiliar, losing control, and a certain level of helplessness. How it’s those – often completely unwanted and undesired – things that lead to discovering oneself anew. And how Japan, time and again, takes you by the hand to deal with all of that…without words. Just so.

I don’t know. And that’s okay.

 

 

About the photo: it’s of course a very obvious nod to Sarah’s last post. Once again, a bridge that spans thousands of miles or kilometers and several oceans, illustrating for me how different (everybody’s) paths can be. Literally and figuratively. Concrete, dust, yellow lines, no lines, moss, grass, uphill, downhill, nohill, straight or meandering. Whatever. Here too, as Sarah described in her post last week, it’s walking, wandering, letting myself drift that’s moving my spirit. Reflecting on the past, viewing problematic aspects from new angles, listening deeply to life, imagining and feeling new paths to think, dream and go. The photo was taken in the hinterlands of Arashiyama, the home of Tsukihashi Wataru. I can’t leave him unmentioned. He’s the local yuru-kyara here – a tourist mascot, to whom I feel curiously deeply connected. Tsukihashi Wataru is rather obscure, almost disturbing. Many Japanese cannot decide whether he is cute or repulsive. He is white, looks like a botched ghost, and carries on his back a replica of the locally famous and eponymous wooden bridge. Tsukihashi Wataru has two very special traits. His sensitivity and vulnerability, which he expresses by repeatedly asking politely that, please, no one should walk over his bridge recklessly, because it could not just break the railings but also his heart. And then there’s his characteristic of always being a bit uncertain and unsecure. Generally ending his social media messages with a shy “Sumimasen”, apologizing in advance for whatever might happen or has happened. Nobody knows why he does it but that’s okay as well. He’s quite like me.

 

Regarding the title of the post: It’s one of my favorite movie quotes from the film “Hanami – Cherry Blossoms” by the female German filmdirector Doris Dörrie. The film deals with themes such as transience, longing, and the unpredictability of life in general. But above all it tells the story of the catharsis of the male main character, who, until the death of his wife, had led a rather narrow-minded yet well-kept existence in rural Bavaria. To overcome his grief, he decides to visit his expatriated son in Tokyo – the place his wife had always wanted to travel to, but which he had always successfully dissuaded her from with statements like the one in the title of this blog post. Only through her death he not only dares but he has to travel far, far away to Japan only to be changed forever…

 

2M89+MX Kyōto, Präfektur Kyōto, Japan

“An outstanding sentence truly as wise as a saying from any calendar.” This is one of those classically cynical reactions we have in German when one reads or is told a supposed piece of wisdom that only, at first glance (and even then often only briefly), appears to be well-thought-out and supersmart. Well, last Saturday I’ve experienced exactly that with myself. Recently, when I was at the base of the Traunstein, hoping to maybe catch a beautiful reflection of the mountain massif in the water, it happened.

Thought number one: when it’s stormy, when there’s hardly any sun, when everything’s grey, rain’s pouring down, and the water surface is accordingly agitated…then the chances for a usable photo with a nice reflection are almost certainly zero. Immediately thought number two followed in the same second: …and in a way, it’s the same with us humans. Stormy conditions, breezy circumstances, little light anywhere – all factors that significantly complicate or even make reflecting thoughts, emotions and whatnot nearly impossible.

Calendar saying – yes or no? I don’t know. I’ll leave the final verdict up for anybody who’s reading my two sponteanous thoughts. What matters far more to me is that Mount Traunstein has been a source of inspiration for me once again. As last time, it’s time to say it again: old stoney friend…take care…I’ll see you in three weeks again!

 

WR34+VG9 Gmunden

 

There are long ones. There are high ones. Across rivers, across imposing Alpine valleys. There are ones made out of concrete, ancient ones from the times of the Roman empire that are made of stone, wooden ones and more and more that are made of robust steel. Most of them are solid, built for the ages. Some of them are flexible and swinging. The big ones: for cars. The smaller ones: for pedestrians, bikers and – not to forget – cows. Some have a backstory that was filled with strong enthusiasm, the spirit of renewal. Welcomed structures to overcome wild geographic obstacles. Some, may they never be forgotten, were built under different conditions. Forced Labor. Autobahnen. Dark times. Very dark times. This one above is my favourite one right now. Strange angles meet a pretty unique style that actually contains two interlocking frameworks. Well-built and not too pretentious. I really it. I really like bridges.

 

676C+JGC Ansfelden