The Mid-Autumn Festival

            I like collecting Grandma’s stories.

            If I don’t ask after them, she’ll ask me if I have a boyfriend (“It’s too bad. You know that doctor I wanted to introduce to you? Well, he’s off the market”), tell me to be safe while I’m in Europe (“Don’t take the train! Too many refugees!”), and offer me food (“Grass jelly drink? Your favorite?”). And, after all is said and done, comes the standalone comment, “You’re not skinny anymore.”

            This story is about moon cakes and isn’t so much a story as it is a lesson in economics.

            One evening we sit side by side, she, settled on the green pleather sofa such that her small feet just touch the carpet, and I, nestled into her curves, holding her spotted, blue-veined hand.

            “Grandma, how did you used to celebrate the Mid-Autumn Festival growing up?”

            “Oh, we didn’t celebrate at all,” she replies immediately. “We were too poor.”

            Oh. Right.

            “But didn’t you at least eat moon cake?”

            What is moon cake, you ask?

            It is delicious.

            Moon cake is a treat that can only be bought once a year, around the time of the festival, which falls on August 15 – according to the lunar calendar*. (Duh. Moon cake, hel-lo-o.) On this day of the year, the moon is said to be the fullest and shining at its brightest.

*This year it falls on September 27 (after the Gregorian calendar). Happy Autumn Moon! Go outside tonight for some moongazing if the skies are clear!

            “Back then it wasn’t so easy to get your hands on yuè bĭng. After all, it was a luxury food, and nobody had that kind of spare change lying around when the vendors started selling them,” Grandma launches full speed ahead into her explanation, a solid wall of no-nonsense Cantonese that Dad translates into English several lungfuls of air later. 

            “If you weren’t wealthy,” she continues, “you’d start paying for your moon cake a year ahead of time. Each month, until the twelfth month, you paid your baker of choice a chunk of the total sum, and they’d stamp a sort of booklet. At the end of the year, you’d pay the final installment, and exchange your twelve stamps for the cake.”

            I imagine an old-time baker pulling out his stone stamp, a slender stone rod with a flat, engraved end that would leave behind a sticky red circle of ink, the circle made up of stylized, archaic Chinese characters, probably the name of the establishment. It would peel off the thin paper, smelling like incense or herbal medicine.

            My dad concludes, “So that was how you got your moon cake – if you didn’t lose your stamps!”

Grandma continues to stare ahead, ignoring Dad’s follow-up punchline.

“And – if the bakery didn’t go out of business!” he guffaws.

What a joker – my dad, ladies and gentlemen.

Anyway, I was telling you about moon cake (which is almost definitely not gluten-free and possibly not vegan). Moon cake is an art form, a thick (usually sweet) filling encased in a thin, chewy, golden brown crust. Where pie crusts might boast a lattice top, the moon cake is often stamped with the name of the proud bakery, the dough itself raised – like edible braille – into each stroke of each character, the centerpiece of an intricate, overall design. Common fillings are jujube paste, lotus seed paste, and (my favorite) red bean paste. If you’re going to splurge, at the center of the moon cake will be a salted egg yolk (or two). Yup! An egg yolk. The color of marigold. Like having a little moon in your moon cake.

            According to legend, Han Chinese revolutionaries were able to pass along secret messages by embedding them inside moon cakes, which, on the surface, appeared harmless enough. In this way, they were able to lay low and organize a revolt against the then-Mongolian dynasty.

            But that’s the legend.

            Here’s the Gospel truth: Moon cake is delicious. (And expensive.)

P.S.  If my Grandma asks, you didn’t hear it from me. (She thinks the Internet will eat her.)

At what "cost"?

(Or, the irrelevance of a cost-benefit analysis)

  

12:30, Wed., Sept. 23, 2015

Vienna

Well, the big question – after a summer like this one – was if I would see a notable difference in Austria, compared to the Austria before an unprecedented wave of refugees entered the EU these past few months.

As seen on a traffic post in Germany.

It’s hard to say for sure, but, sitting now at Westbahnhof (a major transit point in the heart of the capital), fresh off the metro (from Dallas to Chicago to Vienna and eventually back to Graz), it really does seem like a lot of the faces I’m looking at are new arrivals. It’s hard to say because I can’t assume that any or all Middle Eastern-appearing people are necessarily asylum seekers from Syria, especially in a diverse metropolis like Vienna. All the same, my gut tells me that what I’m witnessing is indeed only one stop on a long journey for these men, women, and children. (A journey that makes my last 26+ hours pretty insignificant.)

I see white men, one in a suit, one in a red vest suggesting a uniform (The Red Cross? Caritas?), speaking to small huddles of (presumably) Middle Easterners, many of whom fill the ticketing foyer, presumably waiting for passage to their next stop. (Presumably.)

I don’t notice any increased security presence, nor any decrease in tourists. Westbahnhof and Vienna, from what I’ve gleaned in transit, seem largely the same, running as always. Perhaps the only new presence is the old woman holding a Caritas donation box at the foot of the escalator that takes one up to the food court.

New Wifi networks at Westbahnhof.
What are all the meanings of "free"?

On the flight from London I took a moment to catch up on events as reported by the Financial Times. I knew the EU’s interior ministers would be meeting on the 14^th, but I didn’t expect much to come out of it. Apparently, they voted yesterday to distribute 120,000 more accepted refugees – in addition to the 40,000 marker agreed upon in July – among the EU bloc, overruling by majority vote the dissent of Slovakia, the Czech Republic, Hungary, and Romania. (Notably, this policy was championed by Germany and France, Germany hosting significantly more refugees than any other EU member state.)

I think FT reporter Martin Wolf is exactly on point in writing:

…the EU must draw a distinction between refugees and immigrants. Countries have legal and moral obligations to refugees.* […] Compassion for the desperate has to be distinct from a cooler assessment of the advantages and disadvantages of immigration. It may be helpful to argue that refugees could provide economic benefits to the recipient country. […] But that is not the reason why they should be accepted.

I do believe that incoming asylum seekers can contribute to their host communities – granted, contingent largely upon (1) developing sufficient proficiency in the local language** and (2) successful integration (adequate housing, access to jobs, enrollment in schools, etc.). BUT, those who so strongly oppose the taking in of refugees, who shudder at the prospect of shouldering what they perceive as a financial, social, and possibly cultural (invasion of national identity by otherness) “burden” – those leaders and member states are unlikely to buy the “economic benefits” argument. Or at least, the argument loses in an overall cost-benefit analysis. They are much more likely to wonder from where in their already allocated budgets they're supposed to muster up the necessary funds (and manpower and infrastructure) to facilitate language courses and integration.

**As an educated American navigating studies conducted in the German language, a language not so unrelated to my mother tongue, I can tell you, this is no easy task!

Not to mention that scary buzzword (shh!) “terrorism” and the inextricable connection between ISIS, Al Qaeda, and the Taliban with the countries from which many are fleeing. (In the first half of this year, 39% of refugees came from Syria, Afghanistan, Iraq, and Eritrea.)

BUT. Apart from fears of strain on an already tenuous economy and of the disguised infiltration of terrorists, “[economic benefits] is not the reason [asylum seekers] should” – or should not – “be accepted.”

Refugees ought to be welcomed and aided because they, too, are human beings, whose lives and human dignity are – to borrow the word – “terrorized” by oppressive governments, by an exchange of bullets and blood that is beyond their control, and even by those the FBI, too, has classified as “terrorists.”

Which brings me to another reason why I believe the “economic benefits” argument is not the strongest for building the case to welcome refugees.

Just as an example, immigrants seeking a US green card might apply through family, as an international student, or even because they will be major investors (i.e. create lots of jobs and pour in lots and lots of money). That is to say, these avenues of entry are warranted by an acknowledged value in the reunification of families, in education, and in improvement of the national economy.

Well. One other possible port of entry is as a refugee, and this possibility exists because of an entirely different reason – namely –

“Countries have legal and moral obligations to refugees.”

Not because they are human capital.

But because they are HUMAN. Period.

The state of the economy and national security are – most certainly – valid concerns. Yet I have faith, even with an influx of refugees, that the stable governments of the West can handle all three issues. They not only can, but must.

#becausehumanity

*What is the definition of “refugee”? Where do those obligations come from? Well, I can’t answer that exactly, but here’s something from the United Nations 1951 Convention Relating to the Status of Refugees. (And last time I checked, the United States was a part of the UN.)

“A refugee, according to the Convention, is someone who is unable or unwilling to return to their country of origin owing to a well-founded fear of being persecuted for reasons of race, religion, nationality, membership of a particular social group, or political opinion. […] Importantly, the convention contains various safeguards against the expulsion of refugees. […] It provides that no one shall expel…a refugee against his or her own will, in any manner whatsoever, to a territory where he or she fears threats to life or freedom.”

So you live in Australia now?

No, um, actually it’s Austria.

See? I’ll show you the difference:

Left: TX-v-Austria.  Right: TX-v-Australia.

(Images from mapfight.appspot.com.)

MATH TIME:

If Texas is 8.3 times bigger than Austria, but 11.05 times smaller than Australia, how many times bigger than Austria is Australia? 

Anyway, yes, yes I do live in Austria now. Actually, I have since October, but I’ve only just recently managed to haul all my things over here from Germany during the two weeks that was our Easter vacation. (Yeah, we get two weeks off for Easter. Catholic country.)

So I’m schlepping my two oversized suitcases and a stuffed hiking backpack to the train station, when not a single young man passing me by offers a hand (much less a sympathetic look). If anything, one guy on his bike “tsk”’s at me for impeding his trajectory on the sidewalk, seeing as the Adrianna-backpack-behemoth + 2 suitcases = width of sidewalk.*

*That is such a pet peeve of mine. Never “tsk” at me.

I’m sweating from the exertion and thinking to myself, “Chivalry, WHERE ARE YOU?” when I hear a sweet voice from behind.

“Are you on your way to the station?”

I turn around and there stands a tall, dark, and handsome young man with chiseled pectorals and abdominals a petite elderly woman with dyed red hair and vintage purse in hand (vintage because she’s probably had it for decades). I don’t know how to say this without categorizing all German women over the age of 70, but she was the epitome of “German Oma.” (“Oma” means “Grandma.”)

“Yes, I am,” I answer with a hesitant smile, not sure how this is going to play out.

“Let me take one of those for you,” she gestures to my luggage. “I’m on my way there myself.”

“They’re very heavy…”

“Oh, that’s ok, I’ll just give it a go,” she smiles jollily.

At her own slow but steady pace, she pulls my large suitcase behind her, insisting on relinquishing it only once she’s delivered me to the elevator that will take me to my platform, despite my periodic remarks – “I can take it now” – “We’re almost there, I can manage.”

Along the way, we make small talk.

Well, I must admit, I initiate. “Small talk” is apparently a very American thing.

“I’m moving to Austria; that’s why I have so much luggage,” I offer, embarrassed.

“Mmhmm,” she nods politely. “Are you Austrian?”

“Oh, no, I’m from the United States.”

TIME OUT.

Mrs. I’m-Over-70-But-Gosh-Darn-It-I’m-Going-To-Help-This-Foreign-Looking-Girl-Pull-Her-Suitcase just asked me if I’m Austrian?

She is so cool. Seriously. My hero of the day.

First, because of her act of kindness, and second, because she neither assumed I’m from Asia nor showed surprise at my response.

As she bid me goodbye she said with delight, “I think one should do a good deed every day, and now I’ve already done mine this morning!”

FAQ:

Q:  But where is Austria?

A:  Well, it’s here: 

Image from Google Maps.

You’re right, all I did was hop the border into the Land of Mozart.

Q:  So does that mean you have to speak Austrian?

A:  No. Austrians speak German. (Well, “German.” Kind of like how US-Americans speak “English.”)

I know what you’re thinking.

Q:  But then, how is Austria any different from Germany?

But before that, I know what you’re really thinking.

Q:  How could you turn your back on Bach?

A:  It’s a bit complicated to answer your first question, but as for the second – I could never turn my back on Bach. Trust me. Herr Mozart certainly didn’t.

To be honest, I’m still figuring out the “Austrian identity.” Heck, I had a mini-identity crisis upon arrival, initially feeling more “German” than “American.” (Don’t worry, I’m American again.)

What I can say is that – while my first impression of Germany was that it was very small – Austria is even smaller. German has several cities with populations ≥ 1 million (Berlin, Hamburg, Munich & Cologne) whereas Austria really has only its capital to speak of, with a population of 1.7 million in Vienna. I live in Austria’s “2^nd-largest city,” Graz, with a whopping 270,000 residents. (Dramatic pause for awkward clearing of throat and chirping of crickets.) With six universities, add about 44,000 students to that figure.

Aside from Mozart, Austria also boasts such celebrities as Arnold Schwarzenegger (born in the same province as Graz) and the sensational Conchita Wurst, who can be seen in street-front windows sponsoring Bank Austria.

Never heard of Conchita? It’s ok, neither had I. She was the winner of Eurovision in 2014.

Apart from the stereotypical Wiener Schnitzel and Sachertorte (yum), Austria is also home to this delicious trifecta: (1) Kürbiskernöl (pumpkin seed oil -- delicious on salads), (2) Kaiserschmarrn (megafluffy pancakes + compote + powdered sugar), and (3) Schilchersturm (a rosé made during the early stages of fermentation from a grape grown only in Styria, only available for about a one-month season ).

Would eat this every day if I could.

I’ll have to get back to y’all on the Austria-v-Germany question. Until then, I will say this:

For the first time in my life, I have used purple toilet paper.

P.S. There are no kangaroos in Austria.