Last week, we stayed in a lovely B&B in a medieval town called Dürnstein in Lower Austria. The people were wonderful, the food delicious, the wine even better but the weather… Meh. It could have been better, especially considering that my winter and cold-weather wardrobe depends significantly on my one pair of jeans, a few summer jerseys, a summer hoodie and my ski jacket (which I use purely for warmth and NOT for skiing, not being a skier).
I tell you this no because you are terribly interested in my limited winter gear, but to set the scene for what was supposed to be cycling and walking break and what turned out to be a break that required what our host called a “bad weather programme”, and what I shall refer to as our “cultural programme” henceforth.
One of the cultural offerings in the surrounding area was at a lovely castle called Schloss Schallaburg, which is apparently one of the best-known Renaissance-style castles in Austria. The building itself is beautiful, dating back 900 years, with wonderful nooks and crannies, formal gardens and squares, with a history that includes a period as a Lutheran school. Since 1974, they have had an annual exhibition, and this year, the exhibition is on a subject that seems to cause feelings to run high – Islam.
Why do I say that an exhibition on Islam causes feelings to run high? Partly because of our host’s reaction when we told him we planned to visit the castle. “Oh” he said, “We usually go to every exhibition, but we have no interest in Islam and few of our guests do, either. It’s probably not worth going this year.”
Both m! and I were taken aback. Islam is a vast subject with a long history, and people who follow the faith are scattered across a wide variety of countries, all with different values and cultures. How was it possible that Islam was of no interest?
When our host inquired, with some distaste on his face, about our visit, he seemed to be unwilling or unable to believe that the exhibition was interesting. Obviously, because some fanatics have chosen to interpret the Quran in a way that leads to death, destruction and war, the whole of Islam has been consigned to the garbage heap of “interesting information”. Clearly, there is no point is trying to understand where Islam and Christianity and Judaism meet, where they branch off, and what might have led to the current state of affairs of terrorist attacks and IS.
I found this disinterest and distaste sad, because Islam isn’t so much about a religion for me, but about people and their values and what they hold dear. Understanding more is the key to better relations. Ignorance is dangerous. What I found interesting about the reaction of our host was the fact that in his part of the world – a very beautiful part of Austria – he is unlikely to come across many followers of Islam. All the locals we met were very white, very Christian (and largely Catholic) and very opinionated about Muslims. All the visitors we saw were very white, very European or American or Austrian, and I can’t say I know much about their opinions on Muslims. In a week, the closest I came to seeing people of colour or diversity was a Chinese couple and a couple of wine farmers who had probably spent decades in the sun and turned their faces to a lightly tanned leather…
Are the opinions I heard the result of research and an active attempt to become informed about people who follow Islam? Or are the they result of scare-mongering stories?
I have a suspicion that it might be the latter, which has prompted me to release a month of tales from Islamic sources over in my Ziyadliwa Instagram and Facebook pages. The tales I’ll share are a mix of wisdom, folk and fairy tales, from across the Islamic world, and include tales of saints and sinners, tricksters and wiley women. I’m unlikely to enlighten people who prefer to stay in the dark, but perhaps a few will make people realise that stories from Islamic sources have a great deal of wisdom, humour and worth. Perhaps that means that the people who have told these stories orally for hundreds of years have the same attributes, and perhaps it’s worth setting aside stereotypes and judgements and taking time to learn more.
When we visit Lower Austria (Nieder Österreich), we have a few favourite spots: Senftenberg at the end of May to enjoy the many wine festivals in the region and in particular, the white wine presentation in the castle ruins on the hill that overlooks the town; Gneixendorfer to pick up wine from a wonderful wine maker, Rudolf Wandl; Dürnstein to have a little wander through the medieval village and the surrounding wine gardens and open Heuriger by foot, bicycle and otherwise; the castles and palaces; ARCHE NOAH for organic and heirloom seeds and plants.
As of 2017, however, we are returning to Innsbruck with more than just wine. We are returned with quite a lot of… beer.
Because it turns out that there are some lovely craft breweries, and even larger breweries are producing small runs of interesting beers.
I thought I’d share two new places that we found on our recent trip in case you’re a beer drinker keep to try something new.
A lovely little place owned by a couple who decided to brew a batch of beer for a 40th birthday and just haven’t stopped! 8 fabulous beers and open every second Friday from 3pm to 7pm for tasting, drinking and buying. Aside from the founders, who are interesting and helpful and great fun, it’s quite a thing to be drinking craft beers surrounded by vineyards and vines heavy with grapes for harvesting!
Their beers include:
Festbier (a Festival beer, I guess? Very nice, anyway)
India Pale Ale
Weißbier (Wheat beer)
Address: Kellergasse 101, 3610 Wösendorf in der Wachau Phone: 0677 61958342
Opposite the Kittenberger Erlebnisgärten, we discovered BrauSchneider and as their tap room closed at 4pm, and as it was 3:45pm, we popped in. What a lovely tap room! And the lady behind the counter couldn’t have been more helpful, which made us feel very welcome and disposed to trying and buying, in spite of the nearing closing time. Their branding is quite striking and ties in beautifully with their name – a “Schneider” is a tailor in English, and their logo is a stylised red button, and their bottles all have different geometric designs that might be mistaken for different sewing patterns. They have 6 different kinds of beer, including:
Hanfbier (Hemp beer)
India Pale Ale
Session Pale Ale
Weißbier (Wheat beer)
Address: Laabergstraße 5, 3553 Phone: 02734 32917
That’s it! We’ll be on the lookout for new micro and craft breweries on our future travels, too.
I’m a big supporter of literacy projects, whatever the language, and whilst oral storytelling imparts a number of literacy skills, the ability to actually read is fundamental, and often something that readers take for granted.
With literacy in mind, I thought I’d share something that I read on the BBC today, a story about a woman named Florence Cheptoo who lives in an isolated rural village near Chesongoch, in Kenya. As a child – especially a girl-child living in a rural location – education wasn’t considered particularly important, which meant that at the age of 60, Mrs Cheptoo had managed to raise a family, run a subsistence farm and be a contributing part of the “global village”, all without being able to read.
This all changed when, at the age of 60, her granddaughter brought home books from her school’s lending library, and Mrs Cheptoo realised that she couldn’t help her read. Teachers began adult literacy programmes, and for the first time in her life, Mrs Cheptoo can do things that many of us take for granted, like:
Learn more about the medicine she takes
Read newspaper headlines and find out about the world beyond her village
Sign contracts with her own name
See if she was being cheated in written contracts, or with payments
Read the Bible and read storybooks for the first time
Read her grandchildren’s school reports
Reading about what this woman has done in her life without being able to read, and what she has the potential to do now that she can, is something that’s both inspiring and re-affirming.
In some parts of the world, we seem to have gone straight from no education or limited formal education, resulting in people who can live happy lives, but who can’t read, which means that they miss out on many of the benefits of self-learning that reading brings – being able to read about whether your politician is a corrupt so-and-so, for example, of whether your child is lying about the contents of a teacher’s letter.
On some level I can’t help but wonder whether the technological revolution is all a bit useless in places where people don’t have the ability to read.
Perhaps, along with all the technology exports we also need to think about how to bring reading skills to the masses. Because it’s tough to navigate Google or buy something online or take an online course if you’re not sure how to read or write – a shame for people wanting to take part in the consumer market, and possibly devastating for the people and companies investing in commercial and altruistic products and who want to reach the vast markets in areas where literacy hasn’t previously been valued.
Although I’ve only started this blog recently I realise that in many ways I have always tried to live deliberately, especially when it comes to creating businesses, building communities and turning ideas into events or services. Sure, I’ve been conscious about the ocean and plastic and the environment for a while, but it’s only recently that I’ve decided to really spend more time and energy on these aspects of my life.
One thing that hit me today whilst I was swimming was that living deliberately can be tiring as often as it can be enegising. It can be tiring to constantly make things happen, to spread the word about sustainability, to bring people together, to support entrepreneurs, to create and publicise events.
As I write this I am physically tired. A busy day yesterday where I achieved little other than cooking for 10 people (although there were only 6 of us) and a busy week ahead with every evening booked, two storytelling programmes to complete, and some insecurity about one of the businesses I created for the European market. So it’s possible that this is affecting my perspective today.
But on days like this, I can’t help but wonder: wouldn’t it be easier to go with the flow, to work in a 9-5 “job”, to ignore over-consumption and environmental challenges, to stop fighting the Austrian system, to give up on the idea that one person can make a positive difference.
No doubt I’ll bounce back tomorrow but this is where I’m “at” today.
Very frustrated. Before going swimming today, I packed a couple of Tupperware boxes and my reusable fruit and veggie bags, all ready to go shopping – plastic-free, mind you.
Here’s what I’ve learned. Mpreis near West Shopping Centre seems to be one of the few decent-sized grocery stores in Innsbruck that opens at 7am, but the butcher doesn’t start that early. Which means that if you’re making lasagna, it’s going to come not only covered in plastic, but in a polystyrene container. At this Mpreis (and most others – we have an Mpreis up the road and had another up the road in our previous apartment, so I have some experience of a variety of their stores), you cannot get loose carrots. Ricotta, parmesan and milk all come in plastic containers.
Unfortunately I hadn’t planned to drive around Innsbruck looking for alternatives, so I was a bad person and bought what I needed, doing the best I could with what I had available.
What I’ve learned, however, is that in order to live a reduced-waste (I’m still thinking about zero waste and whether leaving your plastic behind in the shop means that you are really a “zero waste” person) life, I’ll have to become much more strategic about my shopping.
For example, I know that the Interspar in Rum and Dez as well as the Eurospar near Hutterer Park all have lots of loose veggies, including loose carrots and onions etc., as does Fruchthof (Innsbruck’s answer to “Whole Pay Check (sic)” in Boulder). Hörtnagel is a marvellous butcher and along with the Interspars and perhaps the large Mpreis in Rum, I can certainly get meat without plastic. Some of the Interspars, Fruchthof and the Markthalle also have good cheese counters, where I can almost certainly get plastic-free parmesan. Ricotta I am less sure of, although I only use ricotta once or twice a year. Milk would need to come from the Milkomat, of which we have one in Arzl I think.
Where to get nuts and grains in paper instead of plastic, I am not yet sure, but I’ll start taking a camera with me when I shop to document this sort of thing.
For the time being, I shall resort to planning meals more carefully, so that I can go shopping strategically once or twice a week. We’ll see how that goes!