Peter Clay Diller

A hush went over the large room as the British Ambassador Simon Smith took center stage, welcoming the guests to The Residence extraordinaire that is his home. It was opening night of Rough Crossing, at Vienna’s English Theater, a play by Britain’s finest Tom Stoppard, and Simon congratulated the cast of six, and ended by proclaiming there would be no cognac. Everyone chuckled: This had been a running gag in the show and still had a bit of staying power.

A Canadian hockey academy might, at first glance, seem out of place in the heart of Lower Austria. With a mission statement “to encourage the achievement of each player’s full potential in Academics, Hockey, Sportsmanship, and Citizenship,” the Okanagan Hockey School and Academy Europe combines international education with top sports training.

“We want to develop good people,” says Elias Vorlicek, the program’s Director of Hockey. He sees it as a vehicle for building character as well as a forum to train players and promote hockey culture in the region.

The full heat of summer was bearing down on my shoulders as I stood outside the gate of the Wiener Trabrennverein, the raceway for equine trotters and pacers at Krieau, panting in the pervasive heat. But that was alright; I was in good company. Today was the first annual Hundetag, a gathering for dog lovers and their canine companions, panting their hearts out. No leash or muzzles required.

It had been almost 40 years to the day since Woodstock, that now-mythical concert that just “happened” on Max Yasgur’s farm in Bethel, New York and so set the standard for self-expression and social progress. Or, whatever it was.

Having missed that one by a couple of generations, I set out to experience as best I could the biggest “happening” of the mid 20th century, at least in my neighborhood. I bought an €8 ticket to watch Michael Wadleigh’s documentary Woodstock at the “Kino wie noch nie” in the Augarten.

Dear Diary,
Sitting in the open window of my lack-luster apartment in the 17th District of Vienna, smoking a cigarette, I began to reflect on the events of the past year. I had just turned 18 when I moved to London from the heartland of America, to attend my first year of University.
My severe apprehensions about my decision to move were quickly wiped away after a visit to a pub on my first night. Who knew a few pints could do so much? My initial intention was to major in International Relations; my second, to change the world!
After several blurry months of London’s famous nightlife and a course on the Politics of Development,
I re-emerged, as a Management Major who had champagne tastes on a (secret) beer budget.