Synchronicity: Tarot Cards, the Witches’ Market, and the Aurora Borealis

Eve Neuhaus 7 Comments

Sometimes I have extraordinary dreams—some of them are told in the links below—and sometimes my life is filled with extraordinary synchronicity. A few weeks ago I was graced with a series of delightful synchronicities.

That weekend, Tom was still in Africa so I had plenty of time to work on my book. There were no real meals to think about, minimal shopping to do, just the dog to walk, which is good for me and almost always a pleasure. I was on a roll.

The last three chapters that I’d written were all pretty dark— the excerpt I published here a few weeks ago is part of one of them—so I decided to add in a lighter one. I gathered my characters in Gert’s parents’ sitting room for New Year’s Eve, had Gert put on some popular music with funny lyrics—it was good fun to do that research—and pretty soon everyone was singing and dancing. They couldn’t dance for all the hours before midnight though, so I figured they could play games. More interesting research. No parlor games popped up, but card games were popular. The first card games from that time and place that came up in my search were played with tarot cards. Good idea. Let the characters play the game and afterwards draw a card. Or better, I’d draw a card for each of them.

The characters probably would have used an Industrie und Glück deck, but I used what I had on hand—I’ve accumulated a good number of tarot decks over the years. The first one I found was my well-worn Waite/Rider deck from the 1970’s.

An Industrie und Glück deck:

I divided out the major arcana cards from my deck, drew one for each of the characters, and then wrote them into my story:

Gert puts one of the decks into two piles. “Pull the chairs back into a circle with a table at the center while I sort the cards.” When the chairs are in place she explains, “I’m putting the major cards, the tarocks, in one pile and the minor cards in the other. Then we’ll each draw one of the tarocks, and I’ll explain what they mean. Or at least what I think they mean.”

“Ooh, she’s going to tell our fortunes!” says Toni. “How exciting!”

“Me first!” Gisi calls out. “I want to get it over with.”

“Okay.” Gert shuffles the smaller set of cards and fans them out so Gisi can choose one.

Gisi looks at the backs of the cards carefully. She runs a finger over them. “No,” she says. “I can’t do it. Someone else has to start. Sorry.” She sits back in her chair.

“I’ll do it!” volunteers Max. Gert shuffles the cards again and fans them out for Max. He doesn’t hesitate, immediately drawing a card from the center of the deck and turning it over.

“It’s Der Naar, the Fool. What does it mean?” he asks Toni.

“Well, that’s appropriate,” she laughs. “It’s the wild card in the deck. It symbolizes beginnings, innocence, spontaneity, and a free spirit.”

“Very appropriate!” Hugo agrees. “I’ll go next.” He runs his finger over the cards a few times before drawing Der Herrscher. 

Gert smiles. “The Emperor. Another good fit. The Emperor represents authority, the establishment, structure, and a father figure. He’s the ultimate ruler of the world.”

“Good God,” says Hugo. “Is that how you all see me? I always wanted to be an artist. Isn’t there an artist card?” 

“You are an artist,” says Anna, “but the card fits, Hugo. Accept your destiny.” Everyone laughs.

Leo volunteers next. He draws the Magician.

“Ah, my favorite,” says Gert. “Der Magier is the first of the Tarocks. It symbolizes manifestation and means that you can make your wishes come true.”

“Phew! A lucky one for me! What should I wish for?”

“That’s up to you,” Gert replies.

“Then I wish the power of Der Magier for all of us. May all our wishes come true.”

“Leo, generous as always! Thank you, my friend,” says Hugo.

The last rays of sun fill the room.

Everyone is smiling.

“Thanks!” says Anna. “I’ll go next, now that I have the power to make my wishes come true.” She takes only a moment to draw Die Sonne, the Sun.

Gert claps her hands. “I think Leo’s card worked. Die Sonne signifies enlightenment, joy, marriage, and happiness.” Anna looks at the card and grins.

“You are an excellent fortune teller, Gert,” says Gisi. “I guess I’ll risk taking a card now.”

Gert reshuffles and fans the deck out on the table. Gisi looks over the back of the cards several times, pauses, and then slowly draws out a card slowly. She studies closely, holding it up to see it better. “I have no idea what this means,” she says, turning it around so everyone can see.

“Oh, it’s der Gehenkte, the Hanged Man,” says Gert. “It’s a complicated card, but it generally points to pausing—voluntarily or involuntarily—in order to assess your situation. It can also mean that it’s time to shift your perspective. Sometimes it means you’ll have to make a sacrifice.”

“Aha!” says Max, rubbing his hands together. “I thought this would go a little deeper eventually. I think it’s an accurate reading of where you are in life, Gisi—of where we all are, no? Very interesting, Gert!”

“It is a good representation. All of our lives are held up right now, aren’t they. None of us knows where we’ll be in a year,” muses Gisi, tracing the form of the hanged man with her finger.

 Hugo says, “I think all the cards have all been pretty good representations of who we are, or of who we could be.”  

“I’ll go next,” Toni volunteers, and Gert lays out the cards again. Toni also takes her time to choose. Eventually she closes her eyes and stabs randomly at a card. 

“The Hermit,” announces Gert. “Huh. Der Eremit isn’t a card I would have associated with you, Toni. The Hermit is a person who gains wisdom by being alone, through introspection. It also means the answer to your question will be found within.”

Toni is surprised too. “Soul-searching certainly isn’t something I’ve done much of so far in my life. All the other cards have seemed so exactly right though. Maybe I should take it up.”

“My turn now,” calls out Felix. “I’m so curious! Every one of these cards has been fascinating to consider.” Gert offers him the deck.

“Temperance. Die Mäßigkeit. Moderation,” she says when she see what he chooses. “Is that you, Felix? Or is the card advising you to be more balanced, more patient?”

“The latter,” says his brother. “Obviously.”

“I beg your pardon, Leo. I am the model of Patience. I ooze Balance from every pore.”  Felix stands on one leg, extending his arms, wobbling a bit, but then holding the pose.

“Very good!” Anna claps and the rest of the group joins in. 

“And now,’ Gert says. “I’ll pick one for myself.” She shuffles the cards three times and then riffles them. At last she chooses a card. 

It’s Der Tod, the Death Card. 

Everyone in the circle looks stricken. 

“Wait, wait,” Gert cries. “It doesn’t mean death literally! None of the cards are meant to be understood literally. It symbolizes transformation or change, or an ending.”

Anna sighs audibly.  “Of course, none of them is literal. Still, it’s shocking to draw it.”

Gert is shaken, but she hides it. “How about if we transition to Jause now? My parents will be home any minute. Come help me in the kitchen, ladies.”

When I had written that far, I took a break and walked the dog up the hill. It was surprisingly crowded in the village Saturday afternoon. Then I remembered that it was the day of the Witches’ Market!

There must have been half a dozen readers or sellers of Tarot readers there.

The second synchronicity occurred a week or so later. My chapter was dated January 25, 1938, so I followed my usual process of looking up what happened in Vienna at the time. It was a tense time then, six weeks before the Anschluss, when Austria merges into Germany.

In late January that year, the Northern Lights were visible in Vienna for the first time since 1805, just days before Napoleon marched into Vienna. Many Viennese saw their appearance in 1938 as an omen. Others were more hopeful—they thought it marked the birth of a princess in Holland.

I wrote the Aurora Borealis into my story by weaving together bits of whatever eyewitness reports I could find. The pictures were all in black and white, but the words were evocative. I went to bed imagining it.

In the morning, I saw that my social media was filled with pictures of the current Aurora Borealis.

January 1938, Vienna

Eve Neuhaus 7 Comments

To the credit of all the people who say “Can’t wait for the next volume!” on their reviews of Red Vienna, I’ve been working hard at it. Underground ends at the Anschluss, when most of Austria joyfully welcomes Hitler as their leader. which takes place from March 11th to 13th, 1938.

Here’s a taste of what I wrote today. As it seems so often, the news I read in the morning seems eerily parallel to what’s happening in my story.

Here’s a photo of the man on whom I based the character, Hugo.

And here is my father, on whom Max is based.

January 27, 1938

Max’s workshop

Vienna

Max has the radio on whenever he can, day and night. He follows the news from as many sources as possible, hearing stories few others hear, and hearing the ones that everybody knows reported from widely varying perspectives. His shop is more popular as a source of news than it is of lamps, chairs, or radios.

“Listen to this,” he says to Hugo, who’s perched on stool at the workbench next to Max. “A German diplomat told a commentator I follow that Hitler is spending most of his time at his retreat in Berchtesgaden near the Austrian border.”

“I had heard that, yes,” says Hugo. “He’s so close he can see Austria.”

“Well, apparently he almost never goes out anymore, and here’s how he spends his time there: he has a huge collection of postcards of Vienna and other Austrian cities that he spreads out on his desk to look at while planning where to put his Brown Houses, the Nazi party headquarters. They say he spends hours at it. And he has a street map of Vienna tacked up on the wall where he’s marked the buildings he wants to replace with ones he’s designing himself. He’s obsessed—it takes up all his time.”

“Not good,” Hugo says. “Not good at all.”

“What concerns me almost as much is that I overheard someone else telling the same story to a group at the cafe yesterday and everyone thought it was funny. What do they think, that Hitler is a joke?”

“There’s no point in pretending that Hitler won’t be welcome here, Max. The Nazi tactic of causing chaos and confusion in Austria over the last few years has led most of the population to want peace at any cost, and they think becoming part of Germany will bring it.”

“It’s so ironic, isn’t it? That the man who tells the French Ambassador that he ‘will soon have Schuschnigg’s head’ should be associated with peace.” Max shakes his head. “No one believes that what I read in Feuchtwanger’s book is true either. It’s fiction, I’m told over and over, often in the most condescending way.”

“Classic it-could-never-happen-here thinking,” agrees Hugo. “Austria would never let the Jews be treated so badly. Well, we shall see soon enough.” He lights a cigarette. “I’ve finished almost all the new exit papers, by the way. Leo will be printing them in a few days.”

“That’s a relief. Are you including an Ausweis for Gisi’s mother and Gert’s parents? They would need them to get out, even if they aren’t Jewish.”

“I am, but I’m doing those last, in case I don’t have the time to finish them. Gert’s parents will never leave, and I seriously doubt Gert will. I think her family has always been more important to her than our crazy off-and-on relationship. What about Gisi?”

“She claims she’ll leave, but she started the new term at medical school this week and she told me she has some of the best professors in the program. And her mother steadfastly refuses to even consider following her. To be honest, I’m not sure if she’ll give all that up for me.”

“It’s a lot to ask. Gert would be leaving a promising career in fashion, a job she loves, and, as you saw at New Year’s, a very comfortable home that will come to her someday. What does she gain by leaving?”

Max looks pensive. “Gisi is in a similar position, minus the bourgeois apartment. What do I have to offer her? We would be leaving with not much more than the clothes on our backs.”

Hugo smiles wryly. “It sounds like you and I are talking ourselves out of leaving.”

“No, of course not. We have no choice. All Jews should be ready to go at a moment’s notice. It’s a shame so few are.”

“People don’t like to face an uncertain future. It’s so much easier to imagine that life will go on the way it is than to face the reality of a darker times ahead. I have first hand experience, though, because of Hilda and Karl’s disappearance. And I understand the pain of losing a child. I’ve already faced some of what the future could hold for many people.”

“Maybe words aren’t enough to convince people. Maybe firsthand experience is necessary. Although I have to say that for me, reading those chapters in The Oppermanns about the months that followed Hitler becoming Chancellor was enough.”

Hugo thinks for a moment. “We were fortunate to have Youth Leaders like Papanek and the others who set an example for us when they left in ’34.”

“That’s true. It’s also easier for us to imagine living somewhere else because we were raised in an Internationalist milieu. Remember? We were, what, eighteen, when we took part in the International Socialist Youth Congress? It’s very different than coming up in a Nationalist milieu that values Blood and Soil over Friendship and Peace.”

Hugo sighs deeply. “God, these are hard times.”

A Marriage of Convenience – an excerpt from Underground

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Underground is the second volume of Two Suitcases. This is an early draft of one of its chapters, including the photographs I used to write parts of it.

Chapter 39

Doctor Rudy Pollack

August 28, 1937

Westbahnhof station, Vienna

Dr. Pollack arrives by train. A tall man in his mid-fifties, portly but not overly so, he has  a generous moustache and wears small rimless spectacles. In one hand, he carries an old leather suitcase, and in the other, a smaller bag, and his hat. Anna and Max, who’d been waiting at the station, recognize him immediately from the photograph he’d sent. Anna slips it back into her bag the moment they spot him. 

“Dr. Pollack!” she calls out, and he turns toward her and smiles. 

“Fräulein Baum! Call me Rudy, please.” He puts down his suitcase and offers her his hand. “I’m very glad to meet you at last,” he says slowly in German.

“And I you! Do call me me Anna,” she says, and then she introduces her brother. Max picks up the older man’s suitcase and leads them out of the station to the tram stop, where they stand and wait together.

Dr. Pollack makes a wry face. “My German is very poor. You will have to forgive me.” He has a gentle manner, Anna thinks, and his eyes are kind.

“And my English is very poor,” she answers in careful English. “We will have to forgive each other.”

“But we will manage!” they both say, he in German, she in English, and all three of them laugh.

Anna continues in English, hoping she’ll remember the words she’d copied into her little notebook that morning, and that she’ll pronounce them well enough to be understood. “We will take you first to your hotel, and then, if you are not too tired, we will go for something to eat at the Prater.”

He responds in English. “Well said! I am happy to go to my hotel and then eat at the Prater.” 

On the tram, Max and Anna share a seat. “I think it will work out, Anna,” Max says. “You can tell right away that he’s a good man.“

A few hours later, Gisi, Max, Anna and Rudy emerge from another tram. In front of them, the Riesenrad, the tallest ferris wheel in the world, rises high above the trees and buildings, its thirty coaches carrying a dozen passengers each, swinging gently.

“Cor, Blimey!” says Rudy in English, looking amazed. “It’s enormous, indeed!”

“Cor, Blimey,” repeats Anna slowly.  “It is en…nor…” but she can’t remember the rest. She sighs.

“You’ll learn, Anna,” Gisi says to her. “Don’t worry. It won’t take long.”

The conversation goes on like that, Rudy exclaiming over the park-like grounds, the rides and games, and the crowds, young and old, rich and poor. Between them, they piece together a basic understanding. 

Eventually a grand plaza with a massive domed building at its end opens in front of them. Crowds fill the long, broad, tree-lined square, almost everyone moving in the direction of the ornate exposition complex, the Rotunde, at the end.

“It’s especially busy today because Die Messe Wien, the Vienna Fair, will only be at the Rotunde for one more week,” remarks a short man beside them in perfect English and then in German. He points toward the great gates of the exhibition center with his cane. Wearing a slightly floppy black hat and baggy trousers, he paces himself to seem like he’s part of their party, though no one noticed him before. “It’s the greatest exposition in the world in the most magnificent setting in the world. You are on your way to see it?” He switches between languages remarkably fluidly. 

“No,” Max responds. “Not today.”

“But it is very much worth your time! There are hundreds of marvelous exhibits from every corner of Austria, all the latest and best products are on display for you to see or try. Please reconsider. I would be delighted to be your guide.” He tips his hat. “Let me introduce myself—I am Hans Wurstel.”

“We don’t need a guide, Herr Wurstel, thank you,” says Anna firmly, but the little man continues, first in German then in English. 

“A translator, then. Forgive me for eavesdropping but I couldn’t help noticing your difficulties in communicating.” 

“Okay, Herr Wurstel,” Rudy agrees. “I’m willing to pay you to translate for a short time.” He turns to the other two and says, “This will make it so much easier.”

Herr Wurstel translates his words and thanks Rudy. Turning to the German-speakers again, he tells them, “Your English friend is both wise and kind.” In both tongues, he goes on. “Let me tell you something about the Prater as we walk. Where did you say you were going?”

Anna, Max and Gisi look at each other in surprise. “We hadn’t said,” Max says. He smiles just a little as he continues, “but, in fact, we are on our way to a restaurant to eat some würstel .” 

He isn’t sure that he trusts the fellow, especially with name like that, but having a translator is probably a good idea. Marriage is a serious thing. 

Gisi doesn’t like the little man at all. She promises herself that she will keep a constant eye on him, and tucks her bag more securely under her arm.

Anna feels relieved. How fortunate, she thinks, that they should meet such a bright and funny man to provide just the service they need at the moment they need it. And more fortunate even, is that there is someone among them who’s willing and able to pay for it. 

The little man laughs heartily. “Of course! You came for wurstel, the sausage, and you found Wurstel, the translator and guide. I am indeed the man of the moment. Not only is Wurstel my name—not an easy one to grow up with, you can imagine—but we have just passed through Der Wurstelprater,  the world’s most amusing amusement park. The Prater itself is much larger, of course.” He indicates the enormity of the rest of the park with his stick, nearly hitting several passers-by.

The group spreads out to give their guide room. 

“The Prater was originally Austria’s Imperial Hunting Ground, and only imperial guests could enjoy it. But in 1766, Emperor Josef II, a great reformer, donated part of his grounds to the city to be used as a park. He’s believed to have said, ‘If I only wanted to associate with people of my own kind, I could stay in the Imperial Crypt.’”

“He was ahead of his time,” comments Anna.  

“It didn’t take long for inns, cafes, and Lebzelter, gingerbread, bakers to line its boundary. Many of the restaurants served the same delicious wurstel that you’ll be having this evening. When puppet theaters, seesaws, merry-go-rounds, and bowling alleys appeared behind the restaurants, the area became known as the Wurstelprater.”

“When was the Riesenrad built?” asks Rudy. 

“In 1897. It was a great success at first, but during the Great War it was almost dismantled. By then it was badly run-down, and close to being sold for the value of the iron, which was much needed for the war. It would have happened, the great wheel might have met its demise, but oddly, not enough workers could be found to take it apart. Instead a rich business man came forward, bought it, and restored it. It’s still privately owned.”

“I could have told that story,” Max mutters to Gisi. “We didn’t have to pay for it.”

“You could have told it in English?” she asks softly. 

Wurstel continues. “But the Rotunde, which you see before you now,was built in 1873 for the World’s Fair. Its dome is the largest in the world, larger, I’m proud to say, than even the Pantheon in Rome.” They pause to admire the massive structure. “It weighs 4000 metric tons. Can you imagine?”

Ten minutes later, they’re approaching Zum Walfisch. 

“Can’t miss it!” cries Herr Wurstel, standing below the large signs pointing to the popular restaurant.

“Wait, let me take a picture of you there,” says Rudy, pulling a camera from his bag.

“Certainly,” agrees the little man. “If you will give me one moment.” He takes off his hat, blows on it to get rid of the dust, and, in a few deft movements, gives it more of a point at the top. Once the black hat is back on his head in a satisfactory position, he pulls a cigar from his pocket, lights it, and takes a couple of puffs. Thrusting one leg forward and holding the cigar up as if he’s about to take another puff, he says,

“There. I’ll hold this pose. Go ahead and take your picture. And then we’ll have the rest of you here with me for another shot. Good?”

Rudy is ready, and the shutter of his camera clicks.

Herr Wurstel releases his pose. “Now, another one with just Fraulein Baum and me.”

“Wait!” cries Gisi. “How much will these photos cost? Do you charge people to be in their pictures?” Herr Wurstel translates for Rudy.

Rudy replies to him in English and Wurstel says to the others, “He says the cost doesn’t matter—he just wants to remember this lovely day.”

“I want to talk to you privately,” Max says to Anna and Gisi as he leads them out of hearing distance. “It’s not the cost—though it takes some chutzpah to charge people to take your picture—it’s that we don’t know where the photos could end up. They could be lost or stolen and fall into the wrong hands. Then there would be proof of this encounter.”

Anna looks at him as if he’s crazy. “I’m marrying Rudy at the Rathaus tomorrow. What more proof could be needed?”

“I don’t know. You never know. These times are so uncertain.” 

Gisi says, “Dr. Pollack’s reputation could be harmed, I imagine, if the photos got into the wrong hands.”

“I say it’s his decision.” Anna is clear. “If Rudy wants the photos, and he doesn’t care if Wurstel charges for his presence in them, he can do what he wants. I’ll smile. I owe it to him.”

Two suitcases full of books: Book and audiobook launch events in Cordes and on Zoom

Eve Neuhaus 2 Comments

Very heavy. You can imagine. They travelled home from California with me last week, and here they are on their way into our house:

And now, having some copies of Red Vienna to pass on, I’ve set up two events.

It was at the back of my mind to do a launch of some sort locally, maybe in my living room or in someone else’s living room, but when I saw the back room at La Théiere Folle, the new salon de thé in Cordes, I couldn’t resist asking the proprietors, Ricky and Axel, if they’d be willing to host it there.

So, here’s the plan:

And then, for those farther away, the narrator of the audiobook version of Red Vienna and I are doing an audiobook launch on Zoom. I’ll add the details about it in my next post, but here are the basics. Join us if you can!

Learn more about Red Vienna, read excerpts, and reviews at twosuitcasesbook.com

Such a Dream

Eve Neuhaus 9 Comments

While I was staying at my daughter’s place in California, I woke up in the middle of the night and wrote down this dream.

July 12, 2024

I had such a dream.

In the dream, I owned a huge, rambling, falling down house, though some of the rooms were still good. A woman in her forties of North African or mixed-race descent—with light brown skin and beautiful curly black hair—came to the door with her teen-aged daughter. A group of other women and girls, all in long dresses, were with her. She explained to me that they could fix up my house, and I invited them in.

Room by room, they created a series of magical spaces full of color, filled with marvelously compelling furniture and objects, and cloths draped everywhere, each one unique. I went looking for my own room, and I found it, spacious, airy, comfortable, elegant. Oddly, I realized that the room was an illusion, even in the dream, but I loved it anyway. Next to it was Tom’s room, his piano in the middle of it. I knew he would be pleased.

I walked through room after room until I came to the end of the house. Through the window of the last room I could see a jumble of metal stairs and incomplete infrastructure, piled up, all in ruins. I realized it was part of my old house.

I set out to look for my own room again, but it wasn’t there. Instead I found a sort of throne room where all the women were sitting. When I entered, the head woman approached me, drew two longish sticks from a pot, and gave them to me. They were tipped with large cannabis buds.

I was happy but still looking for my room when I woke up. The place was vivid in my mind, rich and magical like Arabia of old or India of pre-colonial days.

I’m still feeling happy.

A few days after the dream, I had my best birthday ever, filled with family, friends, and food.

A few days after my birthday, Joe Biden stepped down, and Kamala Harris stepped up.

I hope dreams come true.

Eve Neuhaus Interview on NPR affiliate KCBX: A Day of Delights

Eve Neuhaus 3 Comments

I’m pleased to pass on the link to my most recent interview about Red Vienna, this one on the NPR affiliate in San Luis Obispo, KCBX.

The interview was aired on my best birthday ever. As my voice reached thousands of people, I was enjoying a lunch at Cafe Leila in Berkeley with two old and dear girlfriends. We opened the place and we closed it.

I’d already had a terrific meal out the night before with my son-and daughter-in-law, and a magnificent gluten-free breakfast with my Berkeley family. Mariposa Bakery is the best!

After lunch, we took BART back to Pleasanton, where I’ve been staying to help out with our daughter’s three-year old boy and newborn baby.

Imagine our surprise as this character came out of the station.

The day ended with a superb paella at my daughter’s place in Pleasanton.

It was over the top. I am grateful beyond words to my family and friends for making it all happen.

Listen to the interview: https://www.kcbx.org/podcast/central-coast-voices/2024-07-18/eve-neuhaus-author-of-red-vienna

Exploring Red Vienna’s Utopian Philosophy: The Legacy of Otto Bauer

Eve Neuhaus 2 Comments

Questions have been coming up at my book talks and interviews about the origins of the philosophy behind the utopian vision that is now called Red Vienna, which is also the title of the first volume of Two Suitcases. This article from Jacobin Magazine is the best one on the subject that I’ve come across:

https://www.msn.com/en-us/news/world/otto-bauers-theory-of-nationalism-is-one-of-marxisms-lost-treasures/ar-AA1kyFyr?apiversion=v2&noservercache=1&domshim=1&renderwebcomponents=1&wcseo=1&batchservertelemetry=1&noservertelemetry=1

Unveiling Red Vienna at the UU and a Radio Interview

Eve Neuhaus 6 Comments

I spent most of last week among dear old friends, introducing Red Vienna to them through a book talk at the UU, home of free thinkers, activists, and a good number of eternal optimists, and a talk radio interview with Dave Congalton, grand master of the genre and a true mensch.

You can listen to the interview here: https://www.920kvec.com/episode/hometown-radio-06-20-24-430p-eve-neuhaus-author-of-red-vienna/

Now, back to baby and toddler duty. What a joy to be California with my family!

Two conversations

Eve Neuhaus 8 Comments

Here’s the chapter of Underground that I just finished. Gisi and Max are planning to write a second article with information coded in it about the safest routes for refugees to take to leave Austria if it’s necessary. It’s 1937, less than a year before the Germans will annex Austria.

Two Conversations

April 16, 1937

a cafe near Max’s shop

A couple weeks later, on that first balmy day of the year when everything blooms at once and the air is full of rich fragrance, Gisi is rushing down the city street on her way to meet Max. When she arrives at the cafe near Max’s workshop the outdoor tables are already filling with spring revelers. It had been a long, hard winter for so many, in so many ways. 

Gisi chooses an indoor table in a private corner, sits so she can watch the door, and pulls out a map from her bag. She unfolds it carefully and lays it flat on the table. Thoughtfully, she runs her finger along the routes from Austria to Italy that she and Max are considering. All of them are longer than the one they’d chosen for their first newspaper story. Even the shortest would require at least two overnight stays.

She has mixed feelings about going. Not only would all the proposed hikes take longer and require more preparation, but the story would take longer to tell and the article longer to write.  And, it would take up more space in the newspaper, making it harder to sell. She sighs. 

At the only other occupied table in the room, a couple in their forties is arguing. Though they’re trying to be quiet, Gisi can’t help hearing the woman’s adamant responses to her companion’s softer words.

“Don’t be a fool,” snaps the woman. “Mussolini will say whatever he wants Schuschnigg to hear.” A pause follows. “Of course he’s in league with Hitler! Why shouldn’t he be?” The pitch of her voice is rising. “Mussolini, Hitler, Franco, all the Fascists, they have nothing to lose by banding together.” Another pause. “Only we, the Jews, the immigrants, the travellers, the dark-skinned ones, all of us who are different, have something to lose!” A longer pause. Then she almost hisses, “But we have the money to get out, Fredl! And we have somewhere to go!” She listens for a moment and then says,  “I don’t care if you don’t like my sister. It doesn’t matter. She’s offering to help us.” Another long pause.” And whose family has the means to do it? Yours?” She snorts.

Now Gisi can hear the man’s voice too. They’ve forgotten she’s there.

“It’s not a matter of the money, Lotte,” he says, slumping forward, elbows on the table.  “You know that. You know it too well. But how can I leave my family, Lotte? What will happen to them?”

“You have a brother.”

“Yes, and you have a sister. Your sister has some good qualities and some less good ones—like my brother. No, I can’t leave. My life is built around caring for my family, and we’re rooted here.  My life is in this city, in this country, no matter who is in power.”

“And my life isn’t here? You think I’m not leaving anything behind by emigrating? The issue isn’t what we have here now, Fredl. It’s what we won’t have when Germany takes over.” From the corner of her eye, Gisi sees the woman raising her hand to stop her husband from speaking. “Don’t talk about me how assimilated your family is. My cousin tells me how it is in Germany now.  Jews have no rights. It doesn’t matter what kind of a Jew you are, rich or poor, practicing or not, we’re treated more and more like animals there. It’ll be the same here. Soon. Face it, Fredl. Is that what you want?”

“No. No, of course not.” He sits up and takes a sip of his coffee. “But we Viennese would never treat Jews the way the Germans have.” He puts down his cup. “We’re civilized here.” Even from across the room, Gisi can hear the doubt in his words. She realizes she hasn’t believed that for many years.

At that moment, Max enters the cafe bringing with him a rush of fresh air. He smiles at Gisi, who’s studying the map with a serious expression on her face. She looks up and smiles back at him, but the other couple’s argument is disturbing her, and her smile doesn’t reach her eyes.

He slips his jacket onto the back of the chair. “Well? Have you decided on which of the hikes we should take?” 

“Oh, Max, I don’t know. Sit down and we’ll talk about them, but I have to tell you right away, I’m not sure I want to go on any of them.” 

Max deflates as he sinks into his chair. “None of these particular hikes or none at all? Why not?” He can’t hide his disappointment. “I was so looking forward to it.”

Gisi lays out all her reasons: the time, the expense, the length of the article. It’s a strong argument and she becomes more convinced of it as she talks.

“So that’s it? Your mind is made up?” He stands up and begins to put on his jacket.

She relents. “I said we’d talk about the routes. You can still try to talk me into it. I just wanted you to know how I feel about it now.”

Max sits down again. “You’ve studied them? What did you find?”

“I read whatever I could find, and I talked to people. We were right about the routes we’ve been considering, but there are more. Smugglers have been using these trails for centuries. Now they’re in the business of smuggling people.”

“That makes sense,” he says. “It’s not too hard to find a smuggler to get you to Brno.” 

“Although they’re not always reliable, as Hugo discovered.”

“You never know what to expect of people you meet along the way. I heard a story about a guy hiking and skiing into Switzerland who was picked up by some Heimwehr soldiers. It turned out they were more interested in what was in his rucksack than in turning him over to the authorities. Anyway, Switzerland was a kilometer away and it was many kilometers to their headquarters, so they escorted him to the border and left him there. Unfortunately, they’d robbed him, so he had nothing to show at the border, and guards turned him away. He walked back the three days it had taken him to get that far—without money, papers, skis, or even a winter coat.” Max shakes his head. “Poor guy.”

“At least he survived,” Gisi says.

“That’s true. People trying to escape from Germany wouldn’t be so lucky.”

Gisi looks down at the map. She doesn’t want to think about the horrors people are facing. “There at least a dozen well-used routes,” she says. “The shortest is the one we already tried, from Innsbruck to the Brenner Pass. Next is this one.” She points to the map. “You take the bus from Innsbruck to Naubers, which is a ski resort where strangers don’t stand out, and then it’s two and a half hours on foot to the border at Reschen Pass. It’s a much more rigorous hike than the one we took, but not as long or dangerous as most of the high mountain routes. I didn’t even study those. There are also, even at the very high altitudes, a handful of mostly flat routes that run along rivers, but they would take a very long time, days and days, even a week or more.”

“So the only reasonable one for us to explore is over the Reschen Pass. And we can do that! It’s only two and a half hours, you said?” Max is pleased.

“But they say some parts of the walk are challenging if you don’t have a head for heights. Do you have a head for heights?” 

“Well…” 

“And we’d need mountaineering equipment, trekking poles, warm, light-weight jackets, and better boots than either of us have.”  

“Surely we can borrow what we need. Everyone in our circle supports this project.” He isn’t ready to give up.

She goes on, “It would be expensive, too. In addition to the train to Innsbruck, we’d have to pay for the bus to Naubers. Figuring out which of the hostel and restaurant owners would be willing to help refugees means we’d have to sleep and eat there, at least at some of them.”

Max has no response to that. “I don’t understand why you’re so negative about the project all of a sudden. Last time we talked about it you were all in favor. What happened?”

Gisi thinks. “I guess when I went into it more deeply, it didn’t seem so easy.”

“Nothing you’ve said has convinced me that it’s impossible though. Train, bus, and a two and a half hour trek—what’s so hard about that?”

“It’s everything together, but mostly, I find it frightening to imagine the two of us edging slowly along narrow  path on a cliff with a thousand meter drop-off below us.”

“Come on, Gisi! You’ve skied so many times!”

“This is different.”

“It’s not. And everything else, we can manage easily.”

“No, Max. It would be much longer than our last trip—six hours on the train to Innsbruck and three more to Naubers, at least one night in Naubers, another six hours round-trip on foot to the border, and another night in Naubers, and then a full day to get home. And that doesn’t include all the time it’ll take to talk to people in order to write the article. Or the time it’ll take to write the article. It’s just too much.”

“So you’re giving up? You’re not interested in our project anymore?”

She sighs. “I just think it’s too much.”

He doesn’t argue. Instead, he takes his jacket and walks out the door.

At the other table, the couple who’d been arguing earlier have stopped. The wife is staring at her husband stonily as he slowly finishes his pastry.

Outdoors, clouds cover the sun and a cold wind cuts across the cafe. People are putting on their sweaters and coats.