Are you politically correct, or are you trying to be? Do you judge others to spite them? Or do you judge out of consequence?

It just dawned on me that I cannot resist on name-calling or stereotyping when I am attacked. Somehow I ended up saying because he/she is black, or an eastern European, or fat, or white, or French or… Because of what the aggressor has done to me, the tendency is so high to blame it on her/his physical appearance/trait/mentality.

Is it poor reasoning? Isn’t it sad? We judge others because they make us feel small or bad?

I can tell you how much I despise the changing society. The younger people of today, and I am talking about Vienna, Austria, don’t have any sense of respect to others. Their so-called education is not enough to make them humans. They don’t have manners at all. But I don’t wonder anymore. Where do they get it but from home. Who teaches (or doesn’t teach) them but their own parents.

Get this, I don’t mind if you are fat or sexy thin. Physical appearance doesn’t bother me at all. I don’t judge people because I don’t want to be judged. It is as simple as that.

But what disturbs me is when you attack me. I wonder what makes you do that. And I wonder if you don’t see yourself in the mirror. That’s right. What matters is that what we think of ourselves, right? But be careful when you measure others because you don’t have any right to do that.

This is where hate starts, like chain reaction, it becomes an evil cycle.

tags: political correctness, PC, fat women, Vienna, manners

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Seen from a neighbour’s window.

According to a University of Chicago study, Austrians are patriots, too, ranking just behind the Americans.

The Austrians feel good about their country. They cherish its neutrality, its way of life, its history, its democracy, its social state, its green surrounding free of atomic plants while having a great abundance of water, and other thing that make their life easier than the other citizens of the world. In short, they simply love this place.

Unlike the flexible Americans, living somewhere else is not always a choice. It is a transit, the way to collect experience and knowledge like one does when travelling. For the majority of the natives there’s no place like Austria that coming home is always an option.

Austrian patriotism is discerned just in time for the European Football Championship. It is time for self-analysis, an introspection. Does this have something to with the past atrocities? As you can see the red-white-red flag decorating the cars’ roofs and windows, the textile that is the national flag is proudly waving the public.

Some say it is just natural to be proud of one’s team, whether the members play terrible or not. But they clearly represent your country. Others say, it is plain patriotism period. With or without the football match.

Whatever it is the many Austrians are just darn proud of their land. Euro 2008 is only a vehicle to show it.

tags: Austrian patriotism, Euro 2008, Austria

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So you want to migrate to Austria? Well, learn German first!

That’s actually what the Interior Minister Günther Platter proposed last Friday during the People’s Party meeting for the soon-to-be migrants. That is, apart from the many requirements the government wants you to file, you must have a German knowledge ready before you step your foot to Austria.

This two-faced minister wants the Austrian society free from foreigners who cannot even utter a single sentence in German. Why two-faced, you ask? It is because for the last two months or so his ministry just intensified a huge PR stunt to make the people aware that integration will only work if both the natives and the immigrants learn to accept each other. The “Integration on Tour” was not successful. Not too many people were interested at all. Then there’s the issue of the Kosovar-Albanian Arigona Zogaj that overshadowed the mobile exhibition. Early this year, his office also released the yearly report concerning the migrants.

Right now, the 300 units of learning German were upgraded to 600. As you can see, these numbers are not enough to convince the migrants to learn the national language.

The reason is to counteract the massive unemployment coming from the migrants. If this drops then everyone is happy.

But the point is, you, as a newcomer, should have at least A1 level (basic) before you are permitted to come here. This is also valid for the family reunion including those who are married to Austrians.

Personally, I find this reasonable. What could be the best advice other than learning the language of your host country? It makes sense, right? But it is not for everyone. In the Philippines, for example, learning languages is expensive. And not everyone can afford it. Before I flew to Austria, I took a German language course for a few months and the fee was not cheap.

Caritas Vienna director Michael Landau said the proposal is not practical as German language course is not offered everywhere.

It could work if there’s a tie-up between the Austrian embassy and the language institute and the former would shoulder half of the cost then the poor migrants could avail of this program. It is usual that embassies have their cultural institutions. For Germany, there’s Goethe, Spain has Cervantes, and so on. But still, they are separate entities.

Make no mistake about it. Austria needs immigrants. But if it could choose it wants qualified immigrants and could have the same point system like in Canada in the future.

For now, immigrants in Austria are required to show that they are willing to learn the language. But it is hard to think about the German language courses (especially if you have to choose a reliable school {read: teuer} and not just runaway ones where the number of drop-outs increase every day) if you have mouths to feed, a tiny apartment, different awareness, and are not sure if you still have a job tomorrow.

Immigrants have many issues and learning the language is the last thing on their minds.

tags: Learning German, immigrants, Günther Platter, Arigona Zogaj, Austria

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Inside a mall…

It was crowded, it was weekend and half of the wares in the retailer store were on sale. Well, kinda.

After I and the Boo got his slippers (two pairs), his sandals and a summer clothing with Sponge Bob prints, we queued up and were confronted with people thronged over the counter that also had the same thing in mind: pay and leave the place as early as possible.

There was a woman in front of me. Young, fashionista and in a fit of rage. Thanks to the slow cashier and the waiting boyfriend who wanted to leave the queue next to us.

I only heard and read the horror stories of boyfriends who were forced to wait for their girlfriends to finish shopping. Or, the difference between men and women when it comes to shopping. Or, why men cannot endure staying for more than 15 minutes in a store.

Voila! I personally witnessed, ladies and gentlemen, why it is advisable not to shop with your boyfriends/partners. Because, ladies, some of us are like lioness in sight of a prey! We are demanding, we are vicious, and we want our clothes now!

Woman: Where the hell are you going? Stay where you are or else we have to stand here for hours!

Her voice scolding, imploring… It was not loud for the others to hear but enough for me and a few people to understand that she wouldn’t leave without her new skirts, blouses, shirts and a shrug. She never smiled.

Man: (Speechless)

Woman: I don’t understand it. I am so unlucky when choosing a cashier. She is so darn slow. Please stay where you are, okay?

This time her voice was gentler and kinder. She even laughed, albeit short but was still upset of the turtle-like speed of the queue.

Man: (Still speechless)

He just looked at the furious girlfriend. He didn’t know what to say but obey. He must really be in loved with her. They were in the middle of the crowd that somewhat understood his girlfriend. I did, okay? Because we left the queue. The Boo was already tired and begged me to carry him.

Suddenly, her boyfriend spoke in the midst of female clients, who outnumbered the males.

Man: Do you really need “this” skirt? (Whispering)

Woman: Yes, yes. Of course. (Her smile stretched from ear to ear.) That matches my new top. (Five minutes later…) Good. I give up.

She transferred to the queue next to us, where her boyfriend was standing. I finally paid mine and was ready to leave the building. I looked around and the Neurotic Girlfriend and her boyfriend were nowhere to be found.

And what is the reason behind the non-moving queue and the slow cashier?

Another woman scolding her partner. They just bought half of the store’s clothing items with almost the same situation.

tags: shopping, men and women, neurotic

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In one corner of the room a girl tried to persuade a girl, younger than the former.

“If you don’t do what I say and if you play with A, I wouldn’t invite you to my birthday party!” She said tagging the other girl’s hand, forcing her to enter the tent. This is our so-called Reading Corner with its magical, flower-inspired green tent, several books placed on the side. The older girl was bluffing. She already celebrated her birthday earlier this year. Definitely, there is no party going to happen again this year.

“Okay, okay, I’ll join you!” The young girl said, barely four, assuring the big girl her loyalty. She knew beforehand that she was no match against the 6-year-old brat.

Every time a scene like this erupts, my heart breaks. I feel for the small children who often cannot do anything but obey their big friends’ whims. The children’s strategy is to bluff their so-called friends. This I witnessed after working with them for many years. You see, these little human creatures don’t want to lose the friendship and the favour of their so-called bigger friends. And if you try to control or interfere, the bigger children’s answer is to appear as if they were the victims. They shed a bucketful of tears and accuse you of being unfair.

Another day, another scenario.

We were in a supermarket when we saw two boys, older than the Boo by a year or so in front of the cashier’s lobby. The two rascals tried to climb up the table next to the exit. The Boo begged them to take care, reminding them that if they would continue doing this foolish thing they could fall.

“Vorsichtig (careful),” my son advised the two boys. But they just looked at him, wondered at his physical difference, my son doesn’t look an all-throughout Caucasian, yet not a full-blooded Asian like me. Until one of them shrieked at Boo and told him to “geh weg! (go away)!” He didn’t but they did searching for their mommy.

In another setting, a mother was waiting at the lobby. It was the first week of the so-called Eingewohnungsphase where a new child, her child, was slowly integrated into the Kindergarten by observing the order of the day, its rituals, its rules. Usually the parent is asked to let his/her child stay from three hours to half a day in order to get used to the KG and his/her comrades.

The same mother was aware that her child, almost one year old, didn’t know any limitations as she plainly told the pedagogues that she, as a mother, doesn’t set any rules at home. That means if the son does something stupid, or doesn’t behave, no consequence will happen to him. He can do what he wants and she doesn’t care at all.

During the Eingewohnungsphase the boy broke a fragile serving tray because he was darn bored and cranky asking for his mommy. I don’t know how he did it but he just did. The mother, instead of reprimanding her child, assured the pedagogue that she would buy a brand-new spanking tray. Well, it wasn’t a problem for her at all.

“It is only a tray and my son is only a child…” The mother said shaking her head.

But it is not about the tray, it is about her child and her way of bringing him up. She has missed the point. She’s moneyed, she has a career, and so what?

I am not a perfect mother/parent. I have many mistakes and the Boo is not always in the good mood. But if there’s one thing I have learned and still learning is that the children must learn a certain set of rules to get by. They are not animals who can fend for themselves. Small children need guidance. They need direction. If, in the early stage, they have none, how will they lead their lives after the critical early years? If the parents don’t care a thing about setting a rhythm for their children, they will be confused, unprepared for the world’s atrocities and attacks.

In this case, I don’t wonder why children can be assholes, too. Their own parents have forgotten them.

tags: pedagogy, parents, family, mean children

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