Two years ago on the feast of Our Lady of Sorrows, I set foot on Austrian soil early in
the morning at 6.45! It felt like landing on the moon as soon as I deplaned and
met Martin MacDonald who picked me up from Schwechat. (I would later be master
of ceremonies when this Welsh gentleman wed his beautiful June bride Rose and I
was thus tasked to meticulously meet their most exquisite liturgical
requirements.) I registered immediately upon arrival and attended my first
class in Latin that afternoon. Hardly had I prepared myself for anything
intellectual and here I was, pitifully spewing jawbreakers under the masterful
direction of Dr. Andrei Goţia.
| The historic Schloss that is home to Trumau's first university. |
Marktgemeinde Trumau doesn’t give you the impression of being a university town. It is perhaps because the I.T.I. has only been around for a couple of years since the big move from the Kartause in Gaming where it had its humble beginnings. (That wonderland is certainly much talked about although this is as much as I can say here owing to the fact that I haven’t even gone there yet. Well, maybe one day. But it is Trumau that concerns me at this point.)
There is nothing
magical about Trumau and you really can’t be starry eyed when you hear of this municipality. City
strutters, if they ever knew it existed, would consider it backwoods and definitely a far cry
to the neighboring Baden which boasts of imperial lodgings and famous residents
like Beethoven. There are no sprawling hills in Trumau. It is all flat and the
only decent elevation is seen at a great distance. Most days, gates
are shut, houses are hid behind hedges, and it would seem like the burghers
only keep to themselves. And if you like shopping, the only grocery store in
town closes at half past six on weekdays, at 3 p.m. on Saturdays and is never
open on a Sunday or on a holiday. But if it is any consolation, there is a
modest restobar standing right next to the only traffic light in town.
Despite this
picture of glum to an outsider, it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that I’ve
fallen for the place, and if it's any wonder, just think
of the California Gold Rush that made the San Francisco area population swell
from a few hundred to tens of thousands, and it all started when a foreman chanced
upon nuggets of gold. It’s like that for me with Trumau, but we have something
more precious than gold here. It’s people who are the real attraction, those
who have become my neighbors in the truest sense—whether it’s providing shuttle
service at a moment’s notice, checking in on me when I’m sick, performing odd
fixes, or just keeping me company. Danke sehr, liebe Trumauer!