zotter Schokoladen Laden in Riegersburg

The day after we wore our Trachten to dinner, we went on a tour of the zotter chocolate factory in Riegersburg, Austria.

First up, my first ride on the Autobahn!

We merged onto the highway, and I noticed we were going a little fast.  Hmm. Then, some cars flew past us, and it clicked!

 The zotter Schokoladen Laden und Fabrik (Chocolate Store and Factory) was situated directly in the middle of nowhere.  Kilometer after kilometer of fields, orchards, grapevines, then BAM.  Color explosion.

 
From left to right: poster-sized chocolate labels in the lobby, a poster outside, and my ticket for the tour.

Sadly, Johannes and Leinie couldn't come on the tour, so it was the three of us.

 

First, we grabbed our ceramic tasting spoons and settled down to watch a movie about how zotter sources its chocolate.  They proudly label their products "bean-to-bar," signifying their involvement in the growing of the raw ingredients and in the manufacturing of the final products.  Their chocolate products are Fair Trade and organic, both of which are important to Austrians.  

After the movie, we received portable audio devices in English and began touring the factory.  First up: a room to taste raw beans from around the world.  I wanted to taste the difference, but after one bean that left bean shards in my mouth, we moved on to the next room.  We listened to our audio guide diligently, so we knew that the chocolate fountain in the right-hand picture was actually unrefined chocolate.  Most people just went up to the fountain and filled their tasting spoons.  It was sweet satisfaction to watch their expressions after they poured the stuff into their mouths.  Some people tried to act like it wasn't so bad, but other people tried in vain to wipe their spoons clean. 

After subjecting ourselves to a hallway with, I don't know, trays of 50 to 100% pure chocolate dust, we started to enjoy ourselves with chocolate fountains!   Hooray!

Lisa, if there were ever a moment when I really wanted you here with me in Austria, it was then. 

The tasting areas were situated around the perimeter of the factory, so we could look in and see all of the employee-loompas hard at work. It really is magical how all of the chocolate gets made!

We progressed to my favorite part of the tour: the "Drinking" Chocolate room!   We waited in line for the milk barista to dole out glasses of frothy milk, then we went to the bar and selected a flavor of chocolate from the zip-line.

By this point, we were in a chocolate-delirium.  And in the video, you can see the delicious flavor, "Zimt Banane" or cinnamon banana.  Yikes.  I held strong with my Nuss-Nougat. 

There was this room with all of these origami birds and these beans in the revolving, copper pots.

After a final room where chocolate was brought to us on a never-ending conveyor belt, we ended our chocolate day, but not after buying a few presents.

Obama on Writing

via

"In my life, writing has been an important exercise to clarify what I believe, what I see, what I care about, what my deepest values are.  The process of converting a jumble of thoughts into coherent sentences makes you ask tougher questions."

- Barack Obama, as quoted in his Time Person of the Year profile (2012)

When you Wear your Dirndl to Dinner

For Ben's birthday, we went on a weekend trip to Hartberg with our friends, Johannes and Amy.  The trip has to be broken down into a few posts; we jammed a lot into the few days we were there.

First, we traveled from Salzburg to Weiner Neustadt.  We had to switch trains in Vienna, and man, we picked the wrong train to go on.  There were three different trains leaving for Wr Neustadt within ten minutes of each other, and we had to pick the one that stopped abruptly 10 km outside of our destination.  We had to exit the train and wait for a huge bus to drive us to another train station for us to finish our journey.  As we pulled up to the train station, we steeled ourselves, grabbed our suitcases, and prepared to pounce on anything or anyone who stood in our way.  The bus door opened and we sprinted for the train station.  Workers in reflective vests yelled, "Bahnsteig drei! Your train is waiting for you!"  We dashed to Bahnsteig drei as our fellow passengers were still getting off the bus.  As soon as we took the closest seats on the train, the doors closed and all of the older passengers from the previous train and the bus were stranded at this dinky train station for who knows how long!  I felt bad that the train didn't wait for them, but I also was tired and was done being hassled so I had to laugh at the situation.

So, we made it to Wr. Neustadt, and after a friendly Grüß from our friends and from Leinie, we boarded a train for the last leg of our journey.

 

There was a big ski competition on Friday, and Johannes wanted to watch it while on the train, but Leinie wanted some attention.  Too bad an American was the best at those Austrian slopes...

Actually, I don't care at all.  American myth: everyone loves sports.  American myth-buster: me!

So as not to recount everything, suffice it to say that we met Johannes' father at the train station; he showed us around his house, which is a testament to Austrian planning and to being environmentally friendly; and then it was time to go to a Bushenschank.  And what would three Americans and an Austrian wear to said Buschenschank?  Lederhosen und Dirndl, natürlich!

A Buschenschank is a restaurant that specializes in wine and farm-fresh ingredients.  The farm and the restaurant are usually owned by one family, which makes it easy for them to control the quality of their products.

I ordered a Käsestangerl, which I will forever remember how to pronounce because I pronounced one of the vowels like an American, and I was rightly corrected by the waiter.  It's a cheesy roll loaded with ham, peppers, and cheese.  It was delicious.  It was less than 4 Euro.  And I ate 80% of it.  Woof.  Ben had a Brettljause: salami, hams, cheese, horseradish, pickles, pepper aufstrich, eggs, tomatoes, thick bread, etc. etc. 

Johannes and Amy ordered a Schinkenteller, or a plate of different hams and toppings, and Sauer Bohnen, beans and onions drenched in vinegar.

*For more information on vinegar, read my blog later in the week! It can be delicious! Who knew?

We got some peculiar looks during our outing.  We walked into the restaurant, and it was like in a movie when someone walks into a party and the turntable screeches and everyone stares.  It's not common for people to wear Tracten in the winter, but we made an older woman who sat next to us happy.  She said that Trachten was going out of style, but the younger generation is bringing it back.  Well, glad to have charmed her and we had fun too.  P.S. Her dinner was a piece of heavy bread covered in schmaltz, or lard mixed with garlic and herbs.  Gulp.

100% Afrika?

Part of Ben's birthday celebration was a visit to the Afro Cafe in Salzburg.  The teachers Ben works with gifted him some Afro-bucks, so away we went!

 

So, what am I taking away from this experience?
1. Well, I now know how to custom-set the white balance on my camera.  Red fluorescent lights? No, thanks.  But, it was necessary to learn because that mural needs to be captured for posterity.
2. Although it's called Afro Cafe, it was not African by any stretch of the imagination.  Speaking of Africa, I just read in Time that most African countries are experiencing incredible GDP growth and that the population of Africa will more than double by 2050 to an estimated 1.9 billion.
3. I'm not a child of the '70s, but the mural and aesthetic of the place are pretty African-American, circa ~1971,  right? We could get into a huge discussion about cultural appropriation, and if a cafe run by 100% white workers in Austria should be called Afro Cafe.

Also, there's been this advertisement plastered around town:

100% party, I believe, but 100% Afrika?  No.

Hmm...

And then there was an advertisement at the bus stop of a man in a stereotypical Native American outfit selling something.

Hmm...

This happens a lot; what begins as me trying to be light-hearted usually ends with me considering and critiquing what I experience, and often, it takes writing about it for me to work out how I feel.  Like, hey, look at all of these beautiful buildings!  Oh wait, what happened here?  Now, I just need to get into a classroom so I can teach my students how to develop a critical perspective.

Note: I think that many Austrians would not find this culturally insensitive, and that they do not open cafes like Afro Cafe to be demeaning to anyone, however, Americans tend to err on the side of political correctness.  Cultural differences.  

Skitag

Hey, all!  Since Ben is far braver than me, he's going to tell you about his experiences skiing in Austria.  (I promise I'll try to go skiing at some point.)  Enjoy!  - Jen 

So, last week I was invited to go on a school ski trip to Flachau, Austria.  I have never been skiing in Austria before, for which I have no good excuse. So, I said “Ja, gerne komme ich mit.”, and I arrived early to school to find 3 enormous buses lined up outside. Dozens and dozens of students were filing in and depositing their ski gear in the rear-bus-trailers. Every student had their own gear. Oh yeah, skiing is important in Austria, especially to those Austrians from the mountainous regions of Tirol and Vorarlberg.

The bus ride was breath-taking. We weaved around, over, and through towering Alps. The weather was decent and importantly not too cold.

Arriving at Flachau, most teachers were too busy with other students to lend me advice. So, I winged it. I placed my lift ticket oddly into my coat sleeve pocket, instead of hooking it on the outside of my jacket, as my experience at Greek Peak, NY suggested I do. 

 I waddled over to the “Rent a Ski” hut in my full winter get-up. I was not prepared to answer questions about my weight in kilos and height in meters when asking in perfect German that I needed some “rails and shoes”. I had not yet identified the correct word for “skis”, which I was told later, is simply “ski” pronounced “shee” in the singular and plural. The man at the counter assumed I was using some hip, young lingo. I managed to give my parameters after doing some awkward mental math, swirling my fingers in the air to mime my thought process.      

The ski equipment was the same, so I stepped out, slapped on my skis and pushed myself toward the ski lift. There, I found bizarre rotating entry bars. I hesitated in front of it, and thought that the ski lift ticket in my sleeve may just be “smart”. Proximity reached, I pushed on to a second waiting gate, where strangers lined up around me. The bars opened and the people launched out. I, nearly missing the incoming lift due to my delayed understanding, managed to wedge right in-between a family of five. 

Eventually, I found the student groups for the school and was graciously invited to join the least-experienced group. “Perfekt”, I said. Our skills were matched. 

Needless to say, the slopes “Pisten”, auf Deutsch, were longer, more extreme, and a lot more fun than the hills of New York.

We even stopped to enjoy a lunch in a kitschy, traditional cabin. Outside the cabin, English pop music poured out over the powdery inclines and cliffs, such as Aleshia Keys' "Girl on Fire".

I ate a Brettljause because I wanted to be traditional and I also wanted to load up on fatty "Speck" for energy. The "Speck" is the bacon-esque item. It was like chewing a small book made of taffy that had been gingerly salted. The coarse fat slowly melts in one's mouth, which I assumed to be the appeal of the dish.  There was also another beautiful restaurant on the slopes, but we preferred the comfy cabin. The mountains provided an "atemraubend" experience.

We went non-stop from 8am-to- “drei viertel vier”  literally meaning 3/4ths of 4, or 3:45. The slopes, mountains, and the towering pines trumped any words attempting to describe them.

It was beautiful. It was different and more difficult. Es war gemütlich.