Thursday, April 25, 2013

An Ode to Mohsgasse 25/5


I wonder how incredibly different my 8 months of Wien would be had I not moved to Mohsgasse 25/5. I owe most of my wonderful days in Vienna to this colourful flat, its idiosyncrasies, its craziness, its people, its friends and its friends of friends. And now when I realize that I will pack my bags soon, and so will my flatmates one by one, some even before I leave, it is indeed revolting! I REFUSE to leave.

There had been points in time I decided to jot down everything about everything in Mohsgasse 25/5, but whenever I got to as far as the cursor at the start of a new post, I always realised that it was not in my capacity to jot down what the experience of living was, in this flat. It is still not in my capacity. But I am suddenly consumed with this morbid fear of forgetting, and the fear of forgetting is worse than the fear of confronting one's disabilities with words. Because well, memories are our best friends, sometimes our only friends, at least so for some of us traveling solo.
So as I was saying, in the middle of tons of papers about cockroach-locomotion, I suddenly froze in fear of forgetting. I decided to write down something from the everything.

Mohsgasse has been an experience. A breathing space away from the tortuous ordeal called PhD. I realise it more now, as work sprawls over more of my time and I miss being in the first 4 months of PhD.
I realise I can't preserve everything, though. I cant for example preserve the smells and the sounds for long. There's a background smell in our apartment. Then there's this background smell of my room and the kitchen. There's also the sound of next door's shower sometimes, that I often mistake for the door-bell.

I remember the first time I walked up the stairways to a friendlier looking door in the city. I remember the trauma of asking for ketchup from an Italian. I remember the first walk I took down Josef-stadter strasse with my flatmates. That Turkish restaurant, that smoky pub. Those three funny drunken men. Talking about how everything gets expensive after you cross 26. The funny woman in China. The fortune-teller.
I remember sneaking in pubs from backdoors so we dont have to pay, dancing till wee hours. I remember waking up to the wafting smell of waffles and coffee and hearing about our drunken stories next morning from each other. I remember that one awkward Saturday night without alcohol, drinking tea and talking about times we were drunk.
I remember those endless shots and drags and suddenly fluttering suitably with joy. Those drunken conversations about dread-locks and "the ideas" of our flat. I am afraid this post will be full of the word "remember".
I remember missing stations because we were talking in the metro. Twice over.
I remember locking myself up in my own room and climbing out of my window. I remember being laughed at for days to come.
I remember dropping in to random people's parties, most of whom I never saw again. I remember cooking together. I remember endless discussions about fly porn, and the suppressed giggles every time I had to introduce myself and what I was doing in lab.

In this barrage of words about my days here, I have forgotten to say how incredibly lucky I have been to have such amazing flatmates. It is terribly heart-wrenching for me to think of leaving, as it has always been. I will miss the Spanish music, the strums of guitar, the smells of amazing food, the feeling of home, the warmth, the laughter, the conversations, the overwhelming closeness I feel here.
I will miss the Swedish-ness and the Spanish-ness and the German-ness and the Austrian-ness and the Italian-ness. Most of all, I will miss all of those put together in six shots of tequila and passing out.


Mohsgasse fünfundzwanzig/fünf-- it's been an HONOUR.
My love for the stage and the road is something that I will probably never get over with. Also true for my incredible love of the science I do. Today if I look back, I do realize the power of passion. 

Romance for something is so incredibly magical that you always find a way.