Post-quarantine in a Vienna Coffeehouse

I have a friend. Her name is Iseult. It has been just over a year knowing her, and she has made me see Vienna with new eyes. Mind you, she came to the city a little after I did. So I could claim to have a headstart on her about all things Vienna. But her eye to derive joy and meaning from city spaces remains streets ahead of mine. She senses opportunities where others, like me, would not. We have shared new adventures together using a formula that has worked wonderfully for us. She chooses the activity, I have the rather easy task of figuring out its details. We do typical things. We have schnitzels at travel guide-recommended outlets. We are calm. We play chess in parks and cafes. We are also devotees of ‘warum nicht’ living. We drink at rundown, smoky bars.

This is about one of these opportunities. The shutdown has meant that there are no tourists on the streets of Vienna anymore in May. Not too many are expected this summer. This is a golden opportunity to experience the city from a tourist’s eyes. We choose a traditional Viennese coffeehouse on one of those frequented city trails, Cafe Havelka. Multiple travel guides would tell you it is one of the most famous coffeehouses in the city, for its illustrious history of being frequented by the great artists and writers of yesteryear. 

We click our formula into action. She floats the idea on the Wednesday while we are having beers in a park, we find ourselves there on a moody Sunday afternoon. I meet her outside in the sun while walking around airily across one of Vienna’s main squares, Stephansplatz. Because my eyes are fixated rather nowhere, I am startled by her sudden appearance. We are soon joined by her friend, Sarah. Together, we approach Havelka.

Stereotypical Viennese grumpiness welcomes us. We hear a faint comment directed towards us by one of its patrons as we open its big sliding doors to enter. That Viennese dialect passes me by. But since it is accompanied by a stare, I figure it is because of something we have not done. Oh, we are not wearing masks. 

The cafe’s interiors are striking. It is much darker inside than out. There are booths next to the window, currently occupied by people leisurely reading newspapers on one of those funny wooden newspaper-holders which allow barely a crease on the paper. Small espresso cups and half-eaten cakes lie before them on the table. In the middle, there are small circular tables, where even a couple of cups and plates would have to fight for their own space. At the far end, there is a bar and a couple more secluded booths. On the right, there is a bust of Leopold Havelka, who owes the cafe its name, looking back at us. Right now, the room is thinly-populated, just as much as we had probably imagined. 

The server, mandated to wear a mask at all times, asks us about our seating preference. Outside we say, as the sun is still bright. We ask for a menu, he says none such thing exists. Tourists! You can’t see the smirk through the mask. I play safe, and ask for a melange. Iseult, an espresso and Sarah, a strudel. It’s soon here. The strudel looks delightful, vegetables neatly packed in a thin patty, accompanied by a yoghurt-based dip. The coffee, on the other hand, is unremarkable. It is served, as it usually is, with a small glass of water on the side with two sugar cubes neatly placed on a steel tray. This arrangement is another one of those peculiarities I have experienced in this side of the world.

Soon we are made to shift inside because it starts pouring. We get one of those window booths and order another round. Iseult and Sarah get a slice each of a Sachertorte and I get a beer because, well, afternoon drinking. Loud and cheery, we come across as patrons that Havelka’s walls must surely be missing. Drawing on this success, we make plans for another exploration of the city.

Thoughts about European (Night) Train Travel

Another month, another long-distance train traversing central Europe at night. Its nearing the end of a sunny evening in summery Vienna. The night trains start to dominate the Departures screen at the Vienna Hauptbahnof. I am at Platform 8 for my night train to Rome. Its already an hour late without having even left, since we still wait for it to approach the platform to begin its journey. My destination is the city of Naples, a city exactly opposite in character to Vienna. Rome is my connecting stop, and I am afraid I might miss my connection to Naples because of this unforeseen and totally unexpected delay. Before today, its hard to remember a delay of more than 10 minutes on any Austrian train.

Although the train network in Austria, and generally across Europe remains excellent, the night train experience does not seem everyone’s cup of tea. Back home, night trains are completely par for the course, and nobody even raises a whimper about the difficulty/inability to sleep at night on a (sometimes ferociously) moving bed with open windows. Here people seem much more circumspect, evidenced by how sparsely-populated train bogeys have been on the night trains I have taken.

My wonderful luck continues, and when the train finally does come, it turns out I am alone in my 6-person compartment. Moreover, trains that take you across countries and borders while you’re sleeping does sound like a fascinating prospect. It’s a nice feeling to wake up to those familiar text messages on your phone about phone roaming charges and a different landscape outside the window.

Train travel remains expensive, despite the existence of discount cards for every member of the family. Or to put it another way, air travel is artificially cheap and simply out-competes train prices for the same route. It does not, however, reflect the true cost of flying, which is easily many times higher than the train for the same distance. This remains a glaring environmental cost that countries and its citizens bear, and private airline companies thrive at the cost of state-owned railways. For flights being so cheap, there remains hardly any incentive for the average consumer to choose the train. For some routes, flying is cheaper than the cost of average meal in a not-so-fancy restaurant. Alternatively, it might be cheaper to get to, and out from, the airport than the cost of the flight itself. Why does the impending climate emergency not translate into economy-wide actions? Travelling remains a privilege. For the people who can afford this privilege, surely taking the more eco-friendly option can be incentivised?

The Fruits of Science Diplomacy

I started a summer programme at the International Institute of Applied Systems Analysis (IIASA) this week, rather aptly titled Young Scientists Summer Programme (YSSP). IIASA is based in the outskirts of Vienna, in the picturesque countryside town of Laxenburg, apparently a popular tourist attraction in the summer months for its palaces and its large, expansive grounds. The Institute itself has a rather interesting history, set up as it was at the heights of the Cold War in the 1970s, as a symbol of a successful co-existence between the 2 major powers and an experiment in ‘science diplomacy’ (have there been any other such science-diplomatic experiments? I can not recall). Vienna being strategically located at the confluence of the ‘east’ and the ‘west’, became its logical centre. The Institute’s name remains sufficiently broad to encompass research in a wide variety of fields, from demography to evolution, from air quality to land use models, all coming under the name of ‘applied systems analysis’. What is systems analysis, one might ask. Different people would give you different answers to that one, to be honest.

The setting of the Institute is curious and beautiful – its spread out over the town. Most of the Institute is housed within the confines of a really stunning palace, with offshoot buildings housing some other researchers, the administration, a gym and an in-house restaurant, among others. At the back of the palace is a park-grassland-forest mosaic, an ideal space for a post-lunch walk to ward off the afternoon napping potential.

Back to the programme – the YSSP remains the flagship science engagement programme of the Institute, where they invite a handful of young PhD researchers from across the world to work with IIASA researchers. They seem to take this initiative rather seriously, evidenced by the fact that this past week has been filled with orientations and introductions of various kinds. While the start of the week was filled with information about the programme, IT services, libraries etc., Friday was filled with each one of us presenting on our proposed research over the summer – that’s 50 4-minute presentations spread over the entire day! Quite a hectic start to the programme, is it a sign of things to come over the next 12 weeks?

Jourfixes and the Hunt for a Käsekrainer

In one of our midweek jourfixes, conversation flows over wine and whiskey in a smokey room in one of the many bars in the 9th district of Vienna. The bar is packed, but we use our ‘situational awareness’ (there is a Viennese word for it, which I can not recall) to get a small table at the far end – we spot some people exiting from afar, and swiftly navigate towards them and the table. As soon as their jackets leave the chair, ours calmly take their place. Job well done.

We suspect that the adjoining table is witnessing a first date (Tinder maybe?). Both our protagonists seem shifty and unsure, their gaze frequently turning to us and the old posters on the wall. We try to overhear their conversation in the middle of our own. ‘What’s your favourite TV show?’, the guy asks the girl, while the girl rolls her 3rd cigarette. Soon an old man joins their table for the lack of space and takes up the mantle of being the glue of the conversation.

On to our 2nd drink, and the hunger starts to bite. We decide to find a würstelstand, and swiftly work towards that goal. We collect our jackets (for it’s a cold night in May. May!) and pay at the bar. In Vienna, while the supermarkets may close (relatively) early, the würstelstands stay open till the wee hours – people like us are their target market. We step outside and start walking in a randomly-chosen direction.

Apparently, there are some streets in Vienna which ‘look’ like they might have a würstelstand. A bit over 300m down the street we choose, we realize this is not one of them. Do we admit defeat? Natürlich nicht!

The trams and the buses are still running. We soon find ourselves at a tram stop, waiting for the next tram to Universität, where the main buildings of the University of Vienna are situated. Our working hypothesis is that there must be a würstelstand there. The tram arrives, and 4 stations later, our hypothesis is proven correct.

Now, I have heard a lot about a käsekrainer, but in my time here, have never had one. Tonight is that night. One can have a käsekrainer in one of two ways – with bread in a hot dog or separately with sauce. We choose the former way, for my friend says that is how it should be done. What do I know?

Two käsekrainer hot dogs are asked for, soon after my commitment to not eat meat takes the backseat for a night. They are unlike what I had imagined them to be – I imagined cheese dripping out of the sausage, but this is probably better, it is mixed in with the meat. With a view of the Votivkirche, we eat in silence under the roof of the würstelstand. Somewhere in the distance, the clock strikes for midnight.

Postcards from Naples

We are sitting in a café outside the Herculaneum in Ercolano, perhaps appropriately named Herculaneum Café. Ercolano is situated in the outskirts of Naples and we came to this part of Campania today from Naples to visit Mount Vesuvius, a volcano much described in history and much talked about even today. Vesuvius last experienced an eruption in 1944, and since then has been dormant. The only sign of activity it has is some fumes emanating from its fringes. It has become a popular tourist attraction since, and that has meant ever-increasing accessibility and ease of climb. With buses and cars, it is possible to go up to a thousand metres of its total 1200m or so elevation, leaving the last 200m to be covered on foot.

Meanwhile back at Herculaneum, I am busy with the last sips of my Café Freddo. It is an ice coffee every bit as tasty as it has been refreshing. My friends meanwhile, are having a large cappuccino and a Crèma del Nonno respectively. The Nonno is a stunning creation, ice coffee with chocolate and milk foam, sprinkled with chocolate chips on top. While I write this, they write postcards to their friends and family describing their month-long stay across Sicily before we met in Naples. Postcard enthusiasts as all 3 of us are, we have been generally disappointed with the postcards on offer in Naples, but the ones at the Herculaneum museum shop catch our fancy and we buy several.

It is late evening calm. We peep into the next table, and the aperitif on offer catches our fancy. The coffees are quickly dispensed with, and there is a seamless transition to alcohol. The aperatif is ordered – wine for them and an Aperol Spritz for me. The evening continues.

The Land Systems Community Unites – I

The schedule says 8.30 is the official opening ceremony of the conference. Its Switzerland, and these things usually start on time. Back at the hostel, I wake up before my alarm goes up at 7, a rather surprising occurrence because of an alcohol-fuelled previous evening. How can one do science without alcohol, right? More on the science-alcohol-conference relationship later.

I make it well in time at the venue, the main building of the University of Bern. Out at the front, there is a beautiful garden and a stunning view of the Alps behind it. The setting makes quite a good distraction from the science that we are about to get introduced to. Our community of land system scientists is rather small, and the Open Science Meeting, as it is called, is a good time to renew old acquaintances and make some new networks. It is also a community which is rather free from competitive biases and ill-feelings despite (or maybe because of) being extremely inter-disciplinary, an aspect which I really respect and admire.

The organizers of the conference have really gone to great lengths to ensure a truly unique experience. As part of registration for the conference, we get a cloth bag, a glass bottle (with instructions to refill with tap water, which in Bern is pure and fresh) and a small chocolate (ofcourse, its Switzerland!). The glass bottle especially is a cool accessory – not only does it negate the use of thousands of plastic bottles during the conference, but is a beautiful keepsake and memento.

Soon, the conference is declared open, and my supervisor is the first one presenting his, and our group’s, research as one of the keynote speakers. A couple of more such keynotes later, its already time for the first coffee break!

Now is the time for the conference to diverge into parallel sessions. I attend a session on ‘water-energy-food nexus’, and see one of my colleagues give a wonderful peek into her work on emissions from global fruits and vegetables production. As individuals, an apple a day might keep the doctor away, but its production does not make the planet any healthier in terms of CO2 emissions.

The format of these sessions is simple, but rather taxing for someone to contribute fully, in my opinion. Each speaker gets to present his/her research for 10 minutes, with about a couple of minutes thrown in for questions. Given the breadth of the session themes, the talks vary widely in scope, focus and approach. By the end of the first session and the following lunch break, I am already tired. There are still 2 more such sessions and a poster session to go! I miss the latter of the remaining sessions, an interactive session on some of the prominent land system issues of the day (like ‘‘should we ‘use’ only half of the earth and leave the other half to ‘nature’?’’) because it looks like a wonderful afternoon outside and my head has no space left for more science.

The poster session in the evening is another wonderful glimpse into the science that our community does. It is the first day of my first academic conference, and I am overwhelmed. If I see a future for myself in academia, maybe I need to get used to this.

The First-time Conference-goer

I am on my way to Bern, for my first proper academic conference, where I present some of the first results from my PhD. This has been at the end of quite a long wait and preparation (academic as well as administrative). I got to know of the conference and its deadlines barely a couple of weeks into my PhD, and so had to submit a quick abstract of what I wanted to present. The organizers were gracious enough to give me that opportunity, in a format they described as a ‘Flash Talk’, aka a quick 3-minute dash. After that, it was a case of applying for some additional travel funding, and many days later, I am finally sitting on the train towards the Swiss capital.

I am continually fascinated by the economy that gets established around a major academic conference. People fly in from near and far (I am taking the train from Vienna, because #flyingless) to take part, since this is THE conference to be seen and present in for our scientific community. We like to call ourselves Land System Scientists. I like the term, don’t you? One can say taking multiple flights and contributing to emissions somewhat defeats the purpose of our research, but we are limited in terms of the solutions for this.

An app has also been established for the whole conference, where one can do everything from checking the workshop sessions and list of speakers to messaging other attendees directly and set up meetings. This is a level of engagement that I am totally unaware of, new to, and probably also uncomfortable with. The utility and convenience of the app is rather obvious, but sometimes I prefer to take a step back.

In no way does this reduce the importance of the conference itself – the planet today is at a crossroads, and land system science (which answers questions on the who, what, where, how and why of our relationship with terrestrial ecosystems) has the potential to lead the way towards solutions which are desired, viable and sustainable. Conferences are a festival of science, and the ever-growing community of land system scientists need a platform like this to come together, discuss and collaborate. Meeting inspirational people doing some stunning work in beautiful cities is part of the reason why I do what I do, and the conference gives me an opportunity to do just that. More power to our community!

The Return of the Summer

It is Easter weekend, and I am sitting in one of the outdoor seating areas of one of my favourite coffeehouses in the city, Café Jelinek, with a melange and a sachertorte. There is not a cloud in the sky – maybe spring has finally arrived in the city.

When I had first landed in Vienna in October, the summer was in one of its final phases for the year. Tables set outside on sidewalks and pavements were being wrapped up and put back inside for the winter. Pop-up bars and cafes which would usually flood the banks of the Danube were wrapping up business for the season. Only a handful were still open, probably still trying to attract one final batch of patrons to the joys of a radler in the sun. One could see even then that it was increasingly becoming too cold for the experience to be truly joyful. Basically, I missed the Viennese summer by not much.

Action had shifted inside – coffeehouses were now full of people who would come in with fat jackets, would slowly peel off their layers and make themselves comfortable in air-conditioned warmth of these establishments. That lasted a while! Nearly 6 months later, the cycle repeats itself – the sun and the warmth are back and a whole new side of Vienna is in view.

European summers really are a whole different creature with a whole new vibe. Vienna being one of the cities frequented by tourists, safe cycling takes on a whole new meaning. Taking my bike through the centre (fortunately or unfortunately my usual route to work) requires increased patience and focus so as to not bump into selfie-taking tourists and horse carriages (yes, horse carriages), the works.

The pop-up bars are back again, the people are outside in numbers again. And repeat.

New to the German Language

Englisch, bitte?

It is not difficult to live in Vienna without having much command of the German language. Vienna is, or has become, an extremely cosmopolitan city. While German dominates in the street, one is significantly likely to also hear any of Arabic, Turkish or any other Eastern language on Viennese streets. People I know are also extremely courteous and instantly switch to English when I am around, none like the stereotypically grumpy Viennese that guide books and internet pages describe.

Nevertheless, one does miss out. Language is a powerful descriptor of the city and its residents. Language describes its moods, its rhythms and its beats, which foreign languages can not. Can English accurately describe who I am and what I feel back home in Delhi? Probably not.

And so, I have signed up for German classes. In my language group, I am joined by 3 women. All 3 of them are super new to Vienna and eager to make the language work for them. We start by going back to the alphabet. How would you spell your name to someone who asks? Starting with the very basics is an experiment in how a language is learnt, picked up and applied outside. We move on to with practical things – how to fill a form where the categories are presented in German, how to ask people about the day, how to introduce yourself. It must be thoroughly engaging for a casual observer to see us struggling with basic words and sentences, making words sound absolutely different, not getting the spellings right. We persevere.

Our teacher (or Lehrerin) is incredibly patient, and motivates us even when we stammer and stutter and make a mess of the conjugations. Having taught introductory German for more than 5 years, she’s seen it all before. We are rewarded for a correctly spoken full sentence or applying the right article to a word with a ‘Super!’ or ‘Sehr gut!’ Sometimes she’s generous, and we also get a chocolate. Practicalities dominate. We learn numbers and test it with speaking our telephone numbers and addresses out loud. We want to be able to order in a restaurant successfully, and we learn the words and the grammar for that. You want the bill? Zahlung, bitte!

The language seems to have a smooth and gradual learning curve. Rules dominate, and exceptions are few. I also find the language quite musical, and it’s not harsh on the ear.

She has also taken upon herself to immerse us into Austrian customs, rules and milestones.

When were women allowed to vote in Austria?

What is the legal age for driving? Drinking? Marriage?

When did Austria join the EU?

She knows the answers, since she has asked the same questions before. She asks us the same questions for our respective countries. There is collective disbelief when I tell them the legal drinking age in Delhi – 25 years. On this note of unexpected culture shocks, we end another evening of German A1.1.

Fieldwork in the Forest – II

The Monsoon is in full flow in Sirsi and the rains continue through the days and nights. At the field station, the continuous pitter-patter on the roof breaks through the calls of various insects and animals, and drowns out the sounds of the small stream behind the station.

Raghu has come early on his bike today, ready and dressed with his raincoat, ankle-high gumboots and a cloth covering for the boots on which he will sprinkle some red chillies before he enters the forest to ward off the leeches. He has got an extra pair of these cloth shoe-covers for me as well.

My first day inside the forest, I had gone into the forest with a false sense of bravado, in sneakers. By the time I got back to our field station, leeches had overwhelmed my feet. The same mistake would never be made again.

Breakfast is in a small family-run dhaba in the next village, some 2 kilometres from our field station. The settlement consists of a few houses, a couple of shops for daily essentials and a this dhaba. This is our usual breakfast spot, which doubles up as an evening outpost for chai. Our morning staple at the dhaba is simple yet delightful, a local variation of fried wheat flour served with coconut chutney. Chai, as usual, is on point. I make sure to have 2 cups, for I am never satisfied with one.

We set off for our field site on his bike, passing villagers who are calmly walking down the road, gunny sacks over their heads to shield them from the rain. A few kilometres down the road, we take a nondescript turn where the road ends and a muddy trail begins. The bike gamefully persists on the trail, finding relatively dry spots to pass over, spots which still exist only because of the dense canopy we are under.

Progress on the trail is slow, but we are in no hurry either. Remote inside the forest, there is a hut which serves as our checkpoint. Raghu parks his bike, and we put on our leech safety gear. The cloth shoe-covers come on, and red chilli is lightly sprinkled on them. On we go!

Monsoons, and the season for the vipers to come out. It is dark with the dense canopy on top of us, while we had started out from the field station to a much brighter day. The change is stunning and hardly subtle. I am careful with using my hands to navigate among the trees and bushes, since the vipers are known to be coiled on branches and camouflage extremely well.

This is our field site. The canopies bear the brunt of the rainfall, while we get on with our work on tree inventories with some wildlife for company.