Another day in Vienna... what a miserable city. Poor Jo has been saying from the start that she is miserable, miserable, miserable. Sara’s arthritis is flaring up because of the damp weather, and everybody took a nap yesterday—a sure sign that things are not going so well.

We woke up late-ish this morning. We ate a breakfast of leftovers from yesterday… spaghetti, crackers, a few pretzels, and of course tea for me, since I bought it at Vienna’s own Aldi, which they call Hofer. We hobbled around a while, then Kris disappeared in the direction of an internet café to do some Research on Vienna. The only items on the agenda for the day were the Schönbrunn and the Hundertwasserhaus. We finally “moved our stumps,” at Kris’s mandate, and off we trotted down the street, armed with our umbrellas.

We bought another 8-day pass, since we used up 6 of the 8 days we bought before, and then we activated 6 more days and jumped on the subway.

We first went to Schönbrunn, the palace of Maria Theresa, mother of Marie Antoinette and many other influential people. It is a yellow palace with many windows and intricate gold designs and flashy chandeliers. I can’t imagine living in such finery. I think it would drive me crazy. In order to tour the inside of the palace, we would have had to pay 9€, except for the students, who would have gotten a super-saver deal of 8,50€. So we opted to just walk in the rain, admire the gardens, and take pictures with our permanent umbrella-props. We saw some proper-looking businessmen posing in front of some gardens for a professional-looking picture. Of course they were doing the classic fig-leaf pose. Later, as we were walking down the street, we saw two naked male statues who literally had leaves placed in a stragetic place. I guess Adam and Eve started a long-standing tradition.

We then trotted off to the Hundertwasserhaus. This is an apartment building designed by a Mr. Hundertwasser. He has this theory that architecture should be somehow in tune with humanity and creation and a lot more yadda yadda. He says that nothing in the human body or in the rest of creation is completely straight; therefore, nothing in architecture should be, either. So the walls in this odd house are intentionally crooked. The floors sort of undulate, like a stream. Here and there are odd little gardens—sometimes in the side of the house, sometimes on the rooftop. Inside are little streams and pools here and there, and no apartment is like another. Windows are at different heights. Even outside, the usually-flat cobbles rise up at intervals like so many graves on the sidewalk. Nothing is regular—everything is designed to defy the usual rules of architecture.

Although I sort of hate things like this—it tends to be very humanistic and ucky—the Hundertwasserhaus really resonated with me. I agree with the idea that living space should be artistic and original. Why should my house be just like yours? Why should your house be just like every other house on the block? I think the reason the whole idea resonated with me is because of Mrs. I’s teaching. She says that living space should spill outside. It’s something about making an inviting living space, and I find that everywhere in Europe, but nowhere as dramatic as at the Hundertwasserhaus.

One of the things Mr. Hundertwasser said is that we should be able to “leave our mark” on the world. For example, Mr. Hundertwasser added to the rental contract the “right to window,” which is the right of every rentor to decorate around his/her window as far as his/her arm reached.

We were just about ready to leave the Hundertwasserhaus when I noticed that Kris was Missing in Action. “Where is Kris?” I asked. Then, behind us, I heard some scrambling and a little screech. Apparently one of the nature-friendly rises in the sidewalk had risen up to meet her, and so she descended. Kris, of all people, who tries so hard to keep her balance and Not Fall, but who Loves to Laugh at anybody else’s balance troubles. And so we laughed. All of us, and we laughed loudly and unkindly.

Poor Kris scratched up both knees and her hand, and her camera fell apart when she fell. She snapped it back together, but dignity is harder to repair than a camera. Sara said, “We’re supposed to be able to leave our mark on the Hundertwasserhaus, but I think it left a mark on Kris!”

We left the Hundertwasserhaus and found an ice cream shop, the one promised to Jolene two days ago. We all filled up on ice cream and came home to eat more spaghetti. We took naps, except for Sara, who listened to a book on her MP3 player.

The cousins called Aunt Esther, and I called my big sister. She said she cried the other day because Mom is gone, and I am gone. And she said something about Olivia missing her aunts, and suddenly I realized that I have been talking an exorbitant amount about my nieces and nephews the last several days. I think it’s an embarrasing sign that I am a very teeny bit homesick. Why is it that I miss the kids, though, and not the others so much?

For supper, Sara made some wonderful concoction with a fancy Italian name. Basically, it was noodles with a buttery sauce. We also had warmed-over spaghetti. We are getting tired of spaghetti.