It's good to be back.

I arrived back in Philadelphia Wednesday night. The flights—Vienna to Frankfurt, Germany and Frankfurt to Philadelphia—were fairly uneventful. The fun occurred at the actual airports. In Vienna, the airline charged me 100 Euros for checking an extra piece of luggage and for exceeding the recommended weight limit. I explained that I had been in Vienna for the past ten months, so naturally I would have more luggage than a person on summer vacation or a business trip would have, but the airline did not care how long I was in the country. “Rules are rules,’ the airline agent told me. So after reluctantly paying the fee, I proceeded to the gate, boarded the plane, and two hours later, landed in Frankfurt.

In Frankfurt, I had 20 minutes to transfer flights. I used five of the twenty minutes waiting in line at customs and spent the next ten minutes talking to the customs official, who was apparently having a bad day. His first question to me was: “Sprechen Sie Deutsch?” “Ja,” I answered. He continued to examine every single page of my passport and then asked: “When did you come to Austria?” I could have pointed him to the page with this information, but instead said, “In September.” He continued: “If you’ve been in Austria since September and it’s now July, surely you must have other documentation: a visa, a residency permit?” I handed him my residency permit, knowing that it had expired the week before but also knowing that as a U.S. citizen I could legally stay in Austria another three months after the expiration because I had traveled outside the country and re-entered on a tourist visa before the residency permit actually expired. The customs official, however, was not accepting this explanation, even after I handed him the corresponding train tickets, showing that I had exited and re-entered the country shortly before the expiration date. He said: “You are in Germany now. I don’t care about train tickets. You either need to produce official documentation of a visa extension or you need to report to the German authorities.” Okay, time for Plan C. I luckily had thought ahead and brought with me an excerpted copy of the law, which I had obtained directly from the Austrian government. I handed him the document, which explained the automatic visa extension for U.S. citizens. He took a minute to read it over and, perhaps realizing he could not argue with the law, finally let me go. “Next time,” he said, “adhere to the dates of your residency permit.” Fair enough. Lesson learned.

At this point, I had five minutes until boarding time, but fortunately the gate was located directly across from the customs area, so I didn’t have far to walk. As I sat down for a few minutes, I realized that the waiting area was full of mainly East Coast high school students and other tourists who had been in Germany for summer vacation. It was unsettling to be in Germany and yet hear so little German spoken. All around me, people were speaking English and usually with a Philadelphia, New York, or New Jersey accent. There were a few Germans and Austrians here and there, but they were mostly traveling alone and were otherwise quiet.

Soon after I sat down, it was time to board the plane. Once I got settled in my window seat on the plane, I started to read a book, but eventually fell asleep. After having to deal with customs, airline check-in officials, and not really getting any sleep the night before, I was understandably tired. I woke up briefly for an early dinner of airline pasta and salad, read for a couple hours, and eventually drifted back to sleep. The rest of the flight continued similarly: read, sleep, read, sleep some more.

When the plane finally arrived in Philadelphia, I went through customs again, this time without any problem. I went to pick up my luggage and waited there for over an hour until I could collect two of my three pieces of luggage. After I watched the last piece of luggage from our flight circulate on the carousel, I realized that mine was not coming. Instead, I had to go to baggage services and file a claim with an airline agent, who told me the piece of luggage was found without a flight ID tag at the Frankfurt airport shortly after the plane departed. (Great, my luggage wasn’t even on the same continent!) After filing the claim, I finally made my way out to the international arrivals area to my parents and grandmom, all of whom were completely confused as to what I had been doing for the last hour and a half! I explained the situation with my luggage and that someone from the airline should deliver it the following day. If not, I had the airline’s phone number to find out when the luggage would be delivered. At least I had enough clothing and such with me for the next day that I didn’t have to worry too much about waiting for the suitcase.

Once I got home, I had Chinese food for dinner—one thing the Austrians just can’t get right! This actually means that I had my soup, saved my main dish for lunch the next day, and got ready for bed. I was asleep by 9:30.

I woke up the next day just before 7:00. I didn’t set an alarm; it was the sun that woke me up. I had a pretty lazy day of unpacking and doing a couple little errands. Around 7:30 that evening, someone from the airline called, saying that he would be delivering my bag in the next two hours. Armed with GPS and a cell phone, the guy actually found his way to the house from the airport. When he arrived, my dad took my suitcase off the truck and carried it inside, since I had already fallen asleep by this time. (Thank you, Dad!) I still don’t know how my suitcase became so heavy. I barely even had any books in it!

The next morning (this morning), I began to unpack the suitcase. Although everything shifted in transit, I think it’s all still there. Once I go through my bags, I’ll be able to figure out what, if anything, is missing. Hopefully, I didn’t leave anything crucial in my apartment in Vienna.

As I unpack, I’m also figuring out where to start with the storytelling. How do you summarize ten months of living in another country? According to the taxi driver who drove me to the airport in Vienna, I should start with his story. A former tool-manufacturer born in Vienna and turned taxi driver 31 years ago at the time when the Bulgarians and Turks began to take over much of Vienna’s taxi business, he now not only transports people within the city of Vienna, but also transports donated organs from Vienna’s main hospital to another major hospital in Frankfurt, Germany. Part person-transporter, part organ-transporter: I’m sure there’s a story hidden in there somewhere.

All taxi-driver stories aside, this blog and the photos I’ve posted are a good introduction to my time in Vienna. There are still, of course, so many more stories to tell. I’m sure I’ll still be telling stories months from now. If I feel so inclined, I may post a little bit more here in the next few days—as post-Vienna thoughts, if you will—but otherwise, I wish you all “Auf Wiedersehen!” Until next time.

Yours,
Briana