German Course

Ă“rna Loughnane

by Ă“rna Loughnane

Story
Vienna 2000

It was daunting to consider all that lay ahead of her as a student in such a regal and historical place. Austria wasn’t only home to ornate Baroque architecture, composers such as Mozart, Haydn and Schubert, but also Freud and the Fianna, Marie Antoinette and the crescent, which became the croissant on her arrival in France. Beethoven and Brahms came to perfect their art here and Viktor Frankl, David Alaba and Conchita Wurst embodied the spirit of the modern country that Hitler had almost destroyed. Here she was, among all this glory, history and artistic perfection, and she felt most inferior; an unworthy student, first, of its language, and secondly, of its vast musical tradition. And she was scared as hell. She had also been given three months within which to become proficient enough to pass a German test. Otherwise, it was auf wiedersehen, you can’t study here.

She had made a fortuitous acquaintance with a Hungarian intellectual by the name of Esther who had a command of English (with an American accent), Serbo-Croatian, Russian, a little Romanian and Latin. So German was a cinch for Esther because she understood syntax, grammar, cases and seemed to suggest she’d cracked into Da Vinci’s self reverse-written notes. If Esther hadn’t been so effusive with her friendliness and her use of American colloquialisms like, Yo! how you doin? She might have been more intimidating than likable. So this girl latched onto Esther’s generous proposal to help with german lessons and made swift progress.

She practiced daily while shopping in the little Greislerei down the street from her student accommodation. Although the lady behind the cash register was in a perpetually bad mood and huffed out a loud sigh for any onlookers waiting by the cold-meats counter who might’ve been made curious by the incredulous behavior of this non-local who couldn’t string a sentence together, who took way too long counting out the millions of groschen needed to make up the ten schilling she owed and who dared to come in here shopping, into the bargain, this girl considered the place as good as any a training ground for the German-speaking world around her. So she trudged through the ordeal most days rather than staying safe under her bed covers.

Esther helped her get through the german test three months later, and she was able to celebrate one afternoon when boarding a tram bound for town. A teenager stood in the stairwell of the tram entrance while she attempted to board, but he didn’t make way for her to embark. She had learned so far, in her short time in Austria, that quiet but effective self-assertion was an art form perfected by the most refined-looking citizens and that any hindrance to their daily travels through the city to whichever place, whether metaphorical or actual, they were undoubtedly in a rush to get to, would not be accepted without a fight. So she looked squarely at the teenager and asked in her best rhetorical german, darf ich nicht hinein? To which his pimply face took on an expression of surprise before he answered hesitantly, Ja…sicher. But he remained where he was. She assumed a potent stance to pummel forward with her shoulders, then brushed past him and triumphantly took the place that the success of the German test had secured her on the Austrian tram.

© Órna Loughnane 2024-03-10

Genres
Novels & Stories
Moods
Funny