Hold that thought.

Austria is a modern country, as can be seen at Graz’s downtown Spar, where you are able to get your groceries without so much as a glance at a cashier. This is made possible by the automated check-out points where you simply scan your items and pay for them by throwing the money in a machine. An innovative step towards hassle-free shopping - or perhaps a sad omen that those brief personal encounters with actual human beings behind the counter will soon be history? Future will tell either way. I myself still couldn’t use the damned things, accidentally scanning my chocolate biscuits three times today, prompting an exasperated shop assistant to grab my shoppings and do the whole thing herself. Duh.

This picture was taken last weekend at the top of the Schöckl-mountain (almost 1500 m) about half an hour from Graz.

Our fridge is the biggest mystery on the planet. It’s about half the size of my old fridge and still, somehow, miraculously, food for six people manages to get squashed inside. I think I am one day going to empty the whole thing and search for hidden niches or even refrigerated corridors. You also need to be very relaxed and in a patient state of mind before attacking the fridge. As an example, when I was getting myself a midnight snack the other day, I had to rummage through countless colorful piles and lop-sided towers of food before I found what I wanted. Mission completed, I tried to close the door shut, but it wouldn’t close, deciding it was time for one of its unnerving guessing games. The guessing games work like this: the fridge keeps you guessing what is going to get stuck between the door once you try to close it shut. That protruding tube of mustard on the inside of the door? No. I get it, one of the lower drawers hasn’t been pushed in properly. Still won’t close. Maybe this container of oh-my-God-I –thought-we-finished-this-last-month! Usually, the answer is right before your eyes.

Once again, a small detail from our home. Full points for the one who spots my cup.

I’ve been visiting Moser almost every other day and making visits to the English Bookstore. The signs couldn’t be more obvious – it’s time to read more fiction. Anna Karenina is not going to be around for very long now, if you know what I’m saying, and I already have my eyes set on future reading prospects. There’s a new novel by Syrian author Rafik Schami – he writes in German and his books are set in Damacus. But first, I’ll probably gobble up Haruki Murakami’s latest book, called Blind Willow and Sleeping Woman (or was it Blind Woman and Sleeping Willow, I can’t remember). I must say that if I could be a fictional character for one day, I would definitely want to turn into somebody from Murakami’s novels. His protagonists are such ordinary and human people it makes reading about their thoughts and lives fascinating, not to mention the absolutely surreal things that happen to them.

Another book on my agenda is DBC Pierre’s “Ludmilla’s broken English”. I read his first novel, “Vernon God Little”, a couple of years ago when it won the Booker prize. It was such a whacky and shockingly hilarious/hilariously shocking piece of fiction it made quite an impression on me, and I can’t wait to see whether this second oeuvre of his will be as good. If I understood correctly, it deals with bride websites, illegal immigration and conjoined twins. Pass it on!

One of Graz's main stages, the opera house. I saw Lortzing's opera Zar und Zimmermann there. Especially the scene where the choir rehearses a festive cantata under a hysterical conductor was huge fun. The music was actually composed in a way that the singers kept starting from the wrong key.

I should probably take advantage of my time here in Austria to really get under the skin of the country. How do people really live in this Alpine nation? We all know about the stereotypes, I mean come on, it all begins on entering an Austrian Airlines’ airplane (I mean, full points for Austrian, but have you ever seen such ugly working uniforms). Anyway, so I figured there must be more to this country than having a Schnitzl while the latest record of the Vienna Boys’ Choir plays in the background (what was that horribly tacky movie called where the choirboys are standing on top of a hill, rehearsing a freshly composed tune all reading from the same score, I mean it gives a whole new perspective to the term “prima vista by heart”) , and so I’m considering making a weekend trip to Salzburg to take the “Sound of Music”-tour. From what I’ve found out, it includes a coach trip through the countryside where Julie Andrews kept falling on her backside every time that helicopter swooped over her in the opening scene, and singing along to your favourite things is obligatory.

By the way, I hate Austrian toilets. I really do. Don’t even get me started on them.