In mixed company
by Paolo L. Kalagayan
You never know what will happen when you’re on your Junior Term Abroad (JTA). It isn’t all about touring Europe, not when you’re sharing a dorm with nine other international students.
I started my JTA in September, and I’ve been studying in the Upper Austria University of Applied Sciences in Steyr, Austria. Here’s a glimpse into a typical day in my life, and all of the domesticity and debauchery that happens in between train stations and classrooms.
Morning
I’m bleary-eyed and desperate for coffee, so it takes me a while to realize that there’s a blond woman in the kitchen I share with my flatmates.
“Hello, where are you from?” she says over her cup of cappuccino.
Mentally, I run through a list of my flatmates—there’s Marc from the Netherlands, Anthony from France, Vivien from Hungary, Renata from the Czech Republic, Pavel from Russia, Kevin from Vietnam, Selin from Turkey, Yeseul from Korea, and Angelo, who is on JTA too.
She wasn’t any of these people, but I vaguely remember seeing her last night. Our apartment is the biggest one among the international students, so there are always a lot of people around, hanging out, drinking, or sharing dinner.
Rummaging for breakfast in the communal freezer, I see a few bottles of vodka in the shelf below mine. I’m pretty sure Pavel owns them, and that they’ll be gone by tomorrow, end of the week at the latest.
At the moment though, I can’t afford to spend any more time being bemused by my European flatmates’ vices–I have classes to attend. Since I’m already late, I’m tempted to skip my bath (when in Europe, do as the Europeans do), but I decide not to, since Austrians aren’t that obsessive about punctuality.
After my shower, I stare into my closet, where my last clean shirt is hanging. I haven’t done laundry in weeks because I’ve been too lazy to buy laundry tokens for the washing machine.
It’s during times like these that I realize just how much I miss my yaya.
Class
It’s a long walk to school, but it isn’t particularly tiresome since the drivers are so polite. As soon as they spot you near a crossing, they’ll slow down their BMWs (which are as common as Toyotas and Hondas are back home) even if they’re a few meters away. It’s so safe, I can practically cross the street blindfolded.
In class, Anthony and another girl both stumble in wearing the same clothes they were wearing last night. Wrinkled shirts, rumpled hair–but then again, none of my business.
The teacher runs through the attendance list, and as he comes to “Lee, Min Hee,” I sense his eyes shift to mine. “Nope, I’m Filipino,” I say. I’m more bored than offended though. Random bursts of “Konnichiwa” and “Ni Hao” are pretty common while walking around in Europe, so it’s not really surprising.
The rest of the class passes by without much incident. The teacher, Sami Prauhart, is brilliant–he’s a Harvard graduate–but the subject matter isn’t particularly interesting. It’s supposedly about “Cosmopolitan Leadership in a Complex World.”
The mention of Russian and Polish relations has triggered a reaction from Michal, the tall Polish guy who goes home from parties at 6 am but somehow manages to take 40 units of subjects (I’m only taking 30), and Anton, the very outspoken, yet talented guitar-playing, Russian ex-Microsoft intern. The rest of the class devolves into a heated debate on Russia’s role in the history of the various Eastern European nations.
It’d be a fascinating discussion, but I took Asian, not Western History, so I feel pretty clueless and uncultured at the moment. I exchange looks with the other Asians, who seem to know as much about this as I do.
Finally though, our professor gives a 10-minute break. The Spanish armada (who consists of Laura, the cute girl who kind of looks like Sofia Coppola, and the five other guys she always hangs out with) rushes out. It’s a sunny day, which is rare for the city of Steyr. Vicente, Jaime, and Jose decide to lie down on the cobblestone streets and savor the warmth, while the Parisian girls have a cigarette break.
I listen in on a few conversations and observe. Since we’ve only known each other for a few weeks, the topics are mostly neutral–what everyone eats in their respective countries, and other culture-related topics.
Some of the other international students are still practicing their English (the main reason they went on this particular exchange program), so conversation is mostly polite and stilted due to limited vocabularies. One of the Korean girls even brings a dictionary around just in case.
But when football or liquor is mentioned, the conversation livens up; it’s obvious that some topics are universal. Well, they’re common ground for males at least.
After some discussion, all of the guys agree to meet for a pick-up game of football before dinner, after which we’ll all meet again for what will be the biggest party of the year.
Pre-party and dinner
It’s pretty early for dinner, but I figure I’d start before everyone gets here. We’re having an international dinner night, when everyone contributes a dish from their country.
Marc and Anthony come back home from grocery shopping. It looks to be the start of a beautiful bromance. They’re making their dinner together, mostly vegetables and pasta. They chide me about the canned sisig I’m making for dinner. “Looks like dog food,” they say.
As I look through the refrigerator for an egg to top off my sisig with, I notice that the two bottles of vodka from breakfast are gone.
Pavel stumbles into the kitchen, opening every cupboard he can see. “Where’s the booze?” he says. With his red eyes and the stench of alcohol on his suit, it’s easy to see where it went. I don’t voice out my sarcasm though. Not after hearing his stories of the shoot-outs (as opposed to bar fights) he’s been in, back in Moscow. He’s also getting his license for an AK-47 soon.
No one else seems to notice his drunkenness though. He’s not alone; almost everyone else is drinking a beer, and judging by the crate, it won’t be the last of the night.
The apartment is getting full with friends and friends of friends gathering in the living room. Agnieszka from Poland walks in, together with a few of the Asian girls from Hong Kong and Taiwan. I think she has yellow fever or something–she’s utterly fascinated with Asian culture and seems to be smitten with Cua (who insists on being called Mr. Kevin to avoid our mispronunciation of his proper Vietnamese name), whom she brought cookies for.
Once everyone has put on their scarves and coats, we’re ready to brave Steyr’s windy evening. We head to the school, where buses are ready to take us to the party.
Most of the youth in Austria and Germany speak excellent English, but I’m starting to doubt this a little bit. When I enter the bus, I hear an eyebrow-raising question.
“Are you excited for Gang Bang?”
I don’t know if the name of the party is intentional (and that they’re aware of the connotations), or if it’s due to their tenuous grasp of English, but either way, it looks like it’ll be fun.
The party
A few country roads and fields later, we’re there. Judging by the smell, we’re going to be partying in a barn. I run into Anton and ask how the party has been.
“The usual,” he says. “Just dancing, drinking, and communicating.”
I have a sneaking suspicion that he meant to say “conversing,” but I decide to keep my amusement to myself, and go for a beer, which goes for €2. It’s just chump change here–literally, it’s just a coin–but it’s P140 back home. That’s pretty expensive, considering cheaper beers goes for around €0,50. So that’s why everyone else decided to get half-drunk before getting here.
But David from Mexico comes to my rescue. He opens his large jacket, which is full of beer cans. Grinning, he says, “Want one?”
Seeing as I’m not a girl though, I don’t hold his attention for long. He dives into the crowd, dancing with every female within an arm’s length. It’s pretty surprising to see since he’s usually soft-spoken in class, but in here, he seems to be totally in his element.
The DJ starts to play the “Macarena,” and the crowd goes wild. Austria: where the “Macarena” is danced with no irony whatsoever. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any better, the DJ rides the 90s wave, and plays “Barbie Girl” by Aqua.
The rest of the night passes just like any party; drinking, dancing, and good vibes all around. Even though I’m having a lot of fun, I, together with a few of the Koreans, decide to leave early since we have class at 8 am the next day. Typical Asian.
The aftermath
I stumble into our flat, nearly bumping into a shopping cart full of last night’s beer bottles. Since we’re required by law to segregate our trash into glass, paper, plastic, etc., one of the boys in our flat decided to steal it, to hold all our glass waste.
When I enter the kitchen, I notice Mr. Kevin from the room next door. He looks at me sadly and says, “This will be a lonely night.” Apparently, Marc, his roommate, told him he that he wasn’t coming back to their room anymore. Looks like it’s his turn for a sleepover.
As for me, I sink into bed and a deep, fitful sleep. I’ve got class in a couple of hours–and a train to Amsterdam soon after.
Photos courtesy of Vicente Montaner, Iyay Ignacio, Baasansuren Gantsog, and Szilvia Kovacs
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