I love Austria. It has my favourite food, and it has my favourite buildings. I love the feel of the place, and I find the history interesting.
My adoptive father was from Sudetenland. At the end of WW2 his parents had to grab whatever they could, and GTFO. My Omi had a sister, married to an Austrian, already in a little town quite close to the Czech border; so Omi, Opi, their cart full of stuff, and their three little kids, went to Tante Rosa. They were lucky.
They stayed in Ottenthal for about 5 years, and then moved to Vienna.
When I was a kid we’d go to Vienna, every two years, for their Summer. As an aside; probably why I don’t handle winter well, I’d have one proper winter every two years.
So I have memories of Vienna, and exceptional food memory of Omi’s amazeballs cooking. Seriously. The woman was unbelievable … and she had this pantry full of the most epic stuff … the aroma.
I’d call myself legally 1/2 not quite Austrian, 1/2 German-Danish-English-Irish. Or Northern European Mutt. Not unlike many Australians.
So. My biological mothers father was Dutch, and her mother is Dutch-German. I’m down with that. Holland is awesome, and I’ve eaten some damn good food there too. Would definitely go again, given the opportunity.
My biological father was just a name. Is now just a name, and a facebook profile with a daughter who I check up on from time to time. I was told that his family was German, and that’s cool. I enjoy Germany, would go again blah blah … not the way I enjoy Holland, and definitely not on the level of Austria.
But I’ve been continuing with my investigations … and fucked if they weren’t wrong. This family is Austrian.
That is SO COOL.
I am, actually and literally, 1/2 Austrian 1/2 Dutch-German.
It’s not only about knowing where I come from, although that’s huge. The fact that part of me comes from a place that I completely adore … is awesome.
I can claim that shit as my own, and now it isn’t a lie.