Learning with the OeBB, Lesson Two: OeBB – Connecting People

"I asked the Bahnhofsvorstand,

I asked the Kassier,
I asked the man who sells the heisse Würstel
I asked the Fahrdienstleiter,

the man with the beer,
I even asked the Putzfrau with the Bürstel,"

sings the Austrian cabaret artist Gerhard Bronner in his famous song Bundesbahn Blues. But when there is no rail-staff present, the tourists are on their own. That’s why I am a part-time tourist guide in summer. Not one of those umbrella-waving guides, mumbling into a microphone and blocking the street. I’m a one-woman company…

Every summer, Upper Austria is no longer Austrian: thousands of tourists from all over the world invade the province to visit Hallstadt at the Hallstädter Lake. Why? I’ve got no clue. But I do know that they take the train to get there. And the train station is where I meet them five times a week. Americans, Brits, Italians, Russians, Koreans, Chinese and Japanese; all of them change trains in Attnang-Puchheim. So how are you able to distinguish between Austrians and foreigners? There are four indicators:

First, it’s the number of suitcases they carry along. When Austrians travel, they carry along a suitcase and a bag. When Americans travel, they carry along three suitcases and two bags per person. Californians and Texans in particular tend to cram EVERYTHING into their suitcases. Apparently, they want to be prepared for every possible scenario: ice age, drought, deluge, meteor strikes or the apocalypse itself. Whatever might happen during their stay in Austria, they’re prepared!

Second, it’s the number of people travelling together. Tourists always walk around in packs; you can’t find a lone tourist in the wild! Maybe we Austrians haven’t realized yet that our country is so outrageously dangerous, making it impossible for tourists to survive without having their throats slashed or their possessions snatched? Maybe they’re afraid of being eaten by a cannibal or getting lost in Mistelbach? The size of the packs depend on the nationality of the tourists: while Austrians travel alone, Americans travel in packs of six, Brits in packs of two, Japanese in packs of three and French and Koreans in packs of four.

            Third, it’s the way they dress. Tourists never dress appropriately for the temperature. That’s why my friends and I created a game where you have to guess from which country the tourist is according to his outer appearance.  And most of the time, we guess correctly. Flip flops in December? That guy is either Australian, American or totally nuts. Hot pants in March? That girl is either Russian or French. Balaclava and scarf in April? Those guys are Korean or Chinese. Long dress in July? That woman is Emirati. I know that these are all stereotypes and not every Austrian dresses appropriately for the temperature, but there is still a grain of truth in all these clichés. 

Fourth, it’s how they react. Tourist behavior differs a lot from Austrian behavior; especially when it comes to train delays. Let me give you an example: 

May 15, 11:50. I’m waiting for my train and a pack of Americans is to my right. A lackadaisical voice blares out of the speakers: "Intercity 860 St. Anton am Arlberg from Wien West to Bregenz is expected to be 10 minutes late. We apologize for any inconvenience." And that’s where the fun part starts. With no knowledge of the German language, the Americans stare at the display listing all trains, waiting for the voice to repeat everything in English; but the speakers stay quiet because the OeBB sees no need to translate such important information into English! For the OeBB, German is the only language appropriate for announcing delays, which is quite similar to the idea of the French that their language is the only language adequate for talking about technology. (If I were in the OeBB’s board of directors I would really think about the light in which we want to present our country to tourists!) As there is no further information given about the delay, American A dashes to the schedule and stares at it. "Mary-Ann, what time is our train?" He looks back at his wife, who patiently answers the question. American A stares at schedule again, then glances at the display and shrugs. Now it’s time for American B to take control. He dashes to the schedule and shakes his head. Meanwhile, a railjet is coming at us. "Thomas, that’s our train!," screams American C and rouses her husband to stand up. And when the railjet goes through the station without stopping, they start to discuss. "That wasn’t our train, was it?" Again, they stare at the display, then at the clock and then at the schedule. It’s hilarious to watch the whole scene, really! A glance at the clock tells me that it’s time for the announcement of the regional train’s arrival. "Attention! The regional train from Linz to Salzburg is arriving on track three." The Americans grab their bags.

 

And that’s the point when I decide to intervene. "No, that’s not the one. The Intercity is ten minutes late." These simple sentences automatically change the devastated expressions on their faces. "Is it? Oh, thank you." They sit down again and look at me, both amazed and thankful.  "No problem." I know why they are surprised: they think that Austrians don’t speak English fluently. Since we come from the same country as Arnold Schwarzenegger, it is of course impossible for us to form grammatically correct sentences while imitating the American or British accent. American A comments: "Your English is really good." No way. I know they’re just kind because I saved them from panicking. But after learning English for fifteen years, I should at least be able to express my thoughts in casual conversation. Am I too ironic? Sorry, but when you hear these lines three times a week you get used to it.

When the Intercity finally arrives, my mission is not over; it has only begun. By intervening, I’ve automatically become their new tour leader. I’m the one telling them where to sit down and when to get out of the train. Sometimes, they let me work on essays for university, but most of the time they seize the opportunity and ask me about life in Austria. I’ve explained our political system to a Kenyan, I’ve explained our pension system to Brits twice and I’ve explained our school system to Americans more than once. By talking to tourists, you’ve got the chance to see your own country through the eyes of foreigners. I would have never thought about how clean our train stations are if two British ladies hadn’t pointed it out. I would have never thought about how green our landscape is and how healthy our woods are if two Irish hadn’t told me. Of course, sometimes you just want to scoff; especially, when American D asks you if the Wallersee Lake is the Danube. But most of the time it’s interesting to talk to tourists. You should try it! Get on a train and start having a conversation with tourists!

What do I get for helping them? Most of the time, it’s a handshake, a smile and a warm "Thank you so much". But sometimes they go further: I’ve got a pack of cards with pictures of Taiwanese monuments, a pin from Colombia and an invitation to visit a Russian doctor and her daughter in Moscow. But I don’t do it in order to get gifts or money; I do it because I know that they’ll go home with a good impression of Austria and its inhabitants.

Photo 1: Eric B || http://www.flickr.com/photos/erikb/23860655// || published under a Creative Commons license