As I sit here in my dorm room, accompanied by my roommate Matt Piros, I reflect upon exactly what has gone on so far in my journey. But of course he would reflect, you say, because this is his journal. Well, journal, I can rest assure you that this is not a journal reflection I am reflecting on. Rather, writing this is just a new way to take it all in.

One of the teachers said, "During this trip, something is going to go drastically wrong." It did, of course, but that’s for a later time to explain.

The first day of the trip, I could think of nothing but leaving and being away from everyone. I called breakfast at my house my "last meal," and refused to talk to anyone but my very good friend Asia that morning, besides my parents and brother, of course. Asia gave me plenty of tips about Europe, and because she lives in England and had previously lived in Scotland I trust her advice. Every chance I have to talk with her is something special, I take it - she’s so busy, and I can’t even fathom the type of work she goes through. Her manga will be incredible when it’s published. She’s an amazing artist.

I hope to be the first in line to get it.

At any rate, I couldn’t have asked or a better person to talk to the morning before leaving. I was able to tell her what e-mail to send to, but so far things aren’t looking up in the field of internet connections. I don’t know how often I’ll find anything. However, one story does stick in my mind… that, however, is also a story for later.

I checked in and forgot to sign my passport - what a smart little boy I am! In fact, my flaky disposition stood out all goddamned morning. I hate being a member of the Goldfish Club. I mean, it can have some benefits (amnesia when you need it most? Naw.), but it’s nothing to brag about. A "bullshit badge", like Rick Bragg would say. Everything afterwards was cake - people rushed to find the recital area, and wondered where the choir was, but once everything was in place it ran smoothly. You knew who your dorm room partners were. It seems Casey Buckley was the only one who didn’t make it into my room. I’m with Alex Corson, Wyatt Reagan, Matt Piros, some other Matt, and a Jeff. Matt and Jeff are in the band, that’s why we don’t know them. Not Matt Piros, I call him Piros. The other Matt.

You’ll never be so tired in your life after singing for six hours straight. We went from 1pm to dinnertime with no break, nothing longer than ten minutes, anyways. Cough drops have become my new best friend! These cherry honey flavored Ricolas aren’t half bad, even though Wyatt and Corson say that they taste like whisky.

Orientation is a snore. There’s absolutely nothing useful in it if you’ve read the rules of the trip and have common sense about how to lock things. The only useful information given so far is the instrument assignments. I was placed, during an orientation at 10pm, in charge of a bass drum stand. The deal was that each person could only carry one thing of equipment, but there were 62 different equipment boxes and not enough band/orchestra members to take them all. So the extra boxes were tossed onto us choir folk. The man read it out in quite a funny way, for me…

"Matt Piros, package 52, you have the, uh… bass drum stand. Jason Rappaport, 53, you have the bass drum stand. Oh, wait… Matt Piros, I’m sorry, you don’t have the bass drum stand. You have the bass drum." Everyone choked up a laugh. This group is riled up pretty easily.

Dinner consisted of corn dogs and french fries. They call it RFOC or Real Food on Campus. R-ight, FOC-kers. It can’t get any more American; I expected something nice and European on my first day. It’s time I experienced food that I’ll never bother to eat again! Like chocolate.

After dinner, room check was at 11pm. We were meant to give our $40 tips for the bus drivers, as well as display our passports. After that, it was cards - all night long. Well, until a quarter passed midnight. BS, Asshole, magic tricks, we did it all. Except War. Nobody wanted to play War.

I drank half a bottle of Vault soda and got so hyper I ended up having a laughing fit. God, I must have looked like a retard. I was laughing while saying, "I’m too stupid to understand this game!" Asshole had a complicated system of rules. That or band-Matt sucks at explaining rules. I guess the latter.

To tell the honest-to-God truth, I was hoping to write this during a time when it was darker, perhaps even my moonlight. My fantasy didn’t come true last night, due to cards and the vault, or even this morning on the 4th of July when the keyboard I’m using right now didn’t work. Why didn’t it work? Turns out the drivers weren’t installed. Gotta love my memory, Journal. I forgot to install it on the new palm pilot. I needed internet to download the driver, but the college didn’t have any accessible wifi network. Well, it did, but it required a login. I asked students where to find a computer lab, but nobody knew. It turns out that they weren’t students at all, but visiting campers.

I did this all on my way to breakfast. I was so frustrated about this keyboard not working, that I went without permission to find internet. I’d told Piros that I’d come back later, even though I wouldn’t. Remember how I said that the one director said something bad would happen? Next he said, "And you’ll just accept it. It happens, and you’ll have to move on."

I hate being passive, so I can’t accept not attempting to fix the problem. I thought about how Aaron Rosenberg said I’d find a magical way to get into Honors Math class. "Am I in Honors Analysis?" I asked myself, not being sure. And I realized I was. Despite all my horrible grades, something magical had gotten me into the class. And I thought something magical would help me find internet and get this keyboard working.

The amazing thing is, I asked one of the cafeteria staff where I might find internet to get the driver file, and the man, and big black man with splotches of whiteness scattered across his face and hands as though someone has put diluted shock on his fabric skin, led me to a small house (people now say that was suspicious, but I call it a blessing) where I was able to use his computer to access the college internet with his own login. I can now use the keyboard - I think that man saved my trip. I thanked him so many times; I really wish I could have done more. It really was like something magical. I didn’t really expect him to tell me anything, much less lead to directly to it.

After breakfast, it was straight to rehearsal, which lasted until lunch. Lunch consisted of a corn dog and a burger - nothing exciting. Practice lasted a few more hours after that, and thankfully after 4pm we got a break before dinner. We rested until 5:30.

At 5:30 I was approached by Barry, my father’s best friend, while walking to dinner.

July 4th - 6th, 2006: Home.

This was a very odd moment… that I’d rather not reminisce on, but I feel it is necessary for my journal. I was called home for my father’s death, something which will dramatically affect my enthusiasm on the trip, but I have decided to go and try to enjoy it as best I can. The details of the death are for another story entirely, and I’d rather not make myself depressed for the trip to come by writing about it. Just know, journal, that I miss my father dearly, and he will be in my heart and mind forever, especially these coming weeks.

July 6th, 2006: Flight.

I could not have asked for nicer relatives or friends, who helped me get through this all, as well as get to the airport on time to catch up with the AMA Red Tour group. Alex was told to stay with me, either for comfort or to make sure that I don’t lose it and run off. Before getting to the airport, I shared lunch with my aunt and uncle at Uncle Jack’s Steak House, which was a nice meal, and very comforting. I hope the rest of this trip can prove to be more so.

In fact, I now consider everything a big distraction. People tell me it’s good to do this. I’m not sure if I believe them, but as long as it gets this feeling out of my stomach until later, I’m fine with it.

I feel good that I got seated next to Alex and a very ecstatic girl named Allie during the flight. The keyboard drivers crashed my Palm, but luckily Wyatt is also next to Alex and I was able to borrow his laptop for five minutes to reinstall the drivers, which now work properly. I expect it to crash again in the future, and will deal with it properly when need be.

July 7, 2006: Flight/Vienna/Wien.

Even though I was able to get sleep, what little of it, I remained tired. The palm crashed again, of course. Since I had extracted extra drivers in case it crashed again, I was prepared and easily deleted and reinstalled them. It seems to happen on every reset, so if I ever reset again I know I’ll have to delete these drivers first.

Dinner was either chicken or pasta, and I chose pasta. So did Allie, who was incredibly enthusiastic as always. I ate a tortellini out of the trapezoid shaped dish =, and it made my mouth dry, so I asked for water. One tiny cup of water was hardly enough to sustain me for the entire meal. Alex ordered the chicken, which smelled absolutely disgusting, and probably tasted that way, too. With each dinner came a salad and a chocolate cake. I didn’t want the salad; it had shrimp in it, so I tossed it.

The soda I tried was good. It’s called Almdudler. It’s like Austrian ginger ale. Corson seems to like it too.

We played pool until we fell asleep, and then it was the 7th. Time zones killed everything - I was sure I’d be immune to jet lag, having prepared now knowing exactly what it was. It seems I was not. Breakfast, which I still wasn’t very hungry for, was meat and cheese, as well as a muffin. I kept wondering how they got these fluffy things to work at such a high altitude. I was amazed, at any rate.

The flight ended uneventfully and we all exited. It turns out one person vomited. We all got off the plane anyhow, and walked out way into Vienna (or at least its outskirts) where we underwent passport checks, a lengthy baggage claim, etc. The "coaches" were regular charter busses, and were located in an extremely large garage. Being on coach 1, my coach wasn’t here, so everyone on coach 1 had to ride on coach 2, which was fine considering everyone on #2 was still riding the Swiss Air flight. We would come back for ‘em later.

It still felt like July 6th, because I never really slept and when we arrived it was 8:45am. Being tired, we made our way out of the garage and to the center of Vienna - first district, near a large gothic cathedral. The tour guide told us some nifty things, and then we were set off on our own. It was time for lunch.

I ended up going with Corson, Piros, Wyatt, and the whole gang of girls to Rosenberger, where I began to feel dizzy. I sat down, incredibly worried at what it might be, perhaps diabetes. Ever since my dad’s death I’ve been scared - how soon until anything happens to me? Is it inevitable that I become sick and die early, just like him and his father before him? But they were incredibly unhealthy… I, on the other hand, have made the change! I’m healthy and drug-free. It’s my vow never to do anything harmful to myself unless necessary to live. I surely hope Max is shocked enough to uphold that as well.

Rosenberger turned out to be a nice place. I got a lasagna-type dish with no meat and weird foot-like cheese. It made me dizzier. I also got a big chocolate cake, to make myself feel better. I got a bottle of water, forgetting to get the Almdudler. Corson didn’t forget - he had a big glass of the stuff.

I found out later that the dizziness was just a side effect of the long plane ride, and that I still felt the bumps and turns from the place. It had happened to me in Mexico, too - I’d forgotten! Anyways, once we were done in Rosenberger, Corson and I went to the gift shop. All of the girls and Wyatt and Piros said they’d meet us up at the golden statue in the park. I planned to meet up with them, but Corson decided to wander with Retz. Since I couldn’t go alone, I went with them. I didn’t mind, but I constantly felt the pity being showered upon me. I was the unfortunate boy who had lost his father, and now I’m sadly traveling with the director. I couldn’t believe it, and I didn’t. I don’t believe it was true, but it felt that way.

Basically, we just wandered until 1:50, when we had to get back. We found a huge cathedral, which we entered. I had, beforehand, believed that it was impossible to get into these cathedrals. I was mistaken, as Retz pointed out, and we promptly walked into the church through the giant gate. There was a fence in the middle of the church, obviously meant to stop people from going further into it. But people were there, and Corson found his way around the fence while I took tons of photos. I didn’t bother to waste time going around the fence, though I was awe-struck at the size and complexity of the church’s gothic style. For the rest of the time there we looked at candles and things available in the gift shop. Retz turned to me and asked, “Do you scrapbook?” I said no, but she held up a pamphlet for St. Stephen’s Cathedral. “I guess I do now,” I said.

We wandered back to the meeting spot rather early. It was fun discussing the symbolism of the sculptures near the area where we were going to get picked up. It turns out the man on the ground groveling under barbed wire represents the oppression of communism, and the half-completed statue all alone represents a man going into hell.

The unloading crew was set back at the airport garage, when we picked up the people from the Swiss flight. They took our bus, and we all had to get up- and move to a new identical bus. Luckily the loading crew had a small job, since bus two now had our entire luggage. Mr. Owens said to thank bus 2 for that as a joke. I wasn’t in the crew, and I think that was out of pity as well. "Jason must be so depressed that we CAN’T make him do loading duty on the first European day!" I don’t believe that one either, journal!

It still felt like it. I figured I needed some sleep, that’s all.

All of the busses then took a trip to a huge graveyard where famous composers and other important people were buried. Beethoven, Strauss, etc. are buried there. The huge graveyard would have taken forever to explore - over two million people are buried there, which is about half the population size of Austria itself. We didn’t have long there, perhaps half an hour. The graves were truly magnificent. I hope I can get a gravestone and grave so incredible when I die. I’d like something intricate like that. They look so cool, and everyone could come over and see the grave and go, "Wow, Jason Rappaport must have been some kind of guy. Even if he wasn’t, this is a kickass grave."

The downside to that is that, when I die, I won’t know either way what kind of gravestone I’ll be getting. What’s more, it won’t matter, since I’m dead. Go figure.

We were called back from the graveyard, and I walked back while taking a photo from the middle of the road of a palace-looking building.

That night was the amusement park. It was a nice place with two giant Ferris wheels. They were too high for me to want to go on, since I’m afraid of heights, but at least I wasn’t the only one! Jen D’armiento is also scared of heights.

We had dinner at a place outside the park, the name of which I can’t remember since it was in German. The food was alright. It was chicken and vegetables. Since I missed orientation for the funeral, I didn’t know we had to pay for drinks. It cost me €2.20 for a Fanta. Ridiculous. I’m glad I didn’t order dessert - we ended up getting a little piece of angel food cake with fruit on top.

I didn’t really get to do anything, since it was all thrill rides, and I don’t do those. It’s why I’ve never been good in amusement parks. Piros and Corson did this crazy flippy thing; there are lots of photos of it. There was a video, too, but it had to go since it took up way too much space. But they had a blast, and everyone called them crazy.

The last event was swings, and by then it was dark. That was also too high for me, so I took lots of photos. I think they’re neat. I wish I wasn’t afraid of heights, Journal - I’d probably have a really good time if I wasn’t.

I said I wasn’t going to take a shower that day, but I ended up doing so anyway. I felt disgusting. I didn’t bother to shave or write - after that and room check I just went right to bed. Good night.

July 8th, 2006: Vienna/Wien.
Song of the Day: Uptown Girl

Waking up today was fine - I was very tired, though. I shouldn’t have been, which got me a tad worried. I had a strange dream, too, that started my day off awkward. Dad was downstairs in the kitchen, coming home and saying he had wantons. I kept saying that I didn’t like wantons… but the wantons were still there. When I got to the kitchen, it was empty, all except for the wantons.

Now, anyone with half a brain can analyze that.

I had hoped to wake up refreshed, but that dream halted it a bit. It made me tired and a tad unenthusiastic, but I made it down for breakfast all right. I ate bread, eggs, and a bit of bacon. I drank a glass of water, too. Everyone else was down there and wide awake when I got down. Apparently my alarm never went off. I didn’t know why, but I assumed it was broken since I had dropped it.

After breakfast we set out for a tour of Vienna, namely a ring around the city. It turns out the city used to only be inside that ring until Prince Joseph decided to tear down the city walls and extend it beyond. The winter palace and the parliament building were incredibly impressive. Unfortunately, I fell asleep and was too tired upon seeing them to get out my camera. We toured St. Stephen’s Cathedral - the same one we had been in yesterday, but this time with new guide, some young blonde woman with an Austrian accent, very thick. We stopped that in order to have a small "concert" inside of the cathedral, the audience being the band members. Three or four songs are all we did, and boy were we flat! It was early morning, so everyone was complaining at how bad their voices were. I feel bad that Corson had to sing his Gloria solo so early!

Then it was a tour of the Opera House. It was very interesting because there are so many fancy high-class things there that you totally wouldn’t expect to see in American culture at any time period. There are customs for everything - especially for the rich folk. You also get a "standing ticket", i.e. a ticket that lets you stand by the opera instead of sitting. Sometimes you’d have to stand for hours, because that’s how long the opera lasts! I heard one lasts for seven hours. Jesu Christe!

Anyways, I took bunches of nice photos to remember the large opera room. I could have sworn I saw one of the rooms in that dream I had about the house we purchased. The house with the mini orchestra room and the pianos and the giant carpet room with the Mona Lisa in the carpet on the side wall with a passage that led into THAT OPERA ROOM which led outside. Yep. Anyways, after that we were set free to explore Vienna once more.

Rosenberger was lunch, since we couldn’t find anything but a street stand otherwise. Instead of getting that same ziti thing, I got a regular bowl of pasta, which was huge. I also picked up a glass of Almdudler, which I remembered this time. The guy at the register called it "beer." Afterwards, I went back and ordered a coffee thing, which came with a mug. I got that mug for Aaron, because it says "Rosenberger" on it. I thought it was neat that his last name was Rosenberg and the restaurant was Rosenberger.

After that we wanted to see the graves of the royal families, but we never got to. The group got split up and it became complicated. We ended up looking at lighters and stuff, walking around streets looking for the graves, and then ending up back at the Opera House, where we found everyone in the gift shop. I bought a miniature violin! It’s so neat - everyone should have one. After that it was random walking around until we got called back.

We took the bus to the hotel, where we got changed and had some spare time as well. Then we got back on the bus and went to a Grinzing, which is like an Austrian pub. We had a weird dinner of chicken, pork, ham, and potatoes. It wasn’t good or impressive, but suitable anyway. All the tables were taken up, so I had to find a random seat with another group of people. At least Wyatt was there… him and his talk of "German purple." He meant to say German "people" but kept screwing up. He even screwed it up while correcting himself!

Immediately after eating we were led to a church for out first concert. It was called the Church of the Trinity, and it had alright acoustics. It was fairly small, and not nearly as impressive at St. Stephen’s. I like gothic churches a lot more. The choir had a few screw-ups during this concert, but since it was our first I suppose it was alright. We left three songs out of the show, and it went by like a blazing fireball. I didn’t even know it would end so soon, the choir part at least. The orchestra was absolutely AMAZING… we watched from the back of the church, or listened, rather. Then at the end the whole group sand "Let There be Peace on Earth." It was fun and slightly touching.

The orchestra is so amazing; I wanted to cry but had to hold it back. I can’t believe there exists an orchestra so good made up of students. Surely our school orchestra sucks compared to this!

Back at the hotel, we packed and prepared for the next day, when we would leave to Salzburg. I transferred my photos using Wyatt’s laptop, so that they now rest comfortably on my Palm. I set the alarm for 7:20am, so we should be up in time for breakfast. And loading duty. Yep, Piros and I got loading duty.