Paint Dry Sport (n) – Any sport that is about as exciting to watch as paint drying.

Almost two weeks ago I had just gotten home from the airport and was trying to stay up late enough to dull the effects of jet lag. My roommate had to go out to give a tour to the new staff in the early afternoon, so I flipped on the TV to see if I could find something exciting enough to keep me awake.

One of the channels we get in English here is British Eurosport, which is also commonly referred to as Paint Dry Sports Channel.

When I first flipped it on, they were broadcasting a ski jumping competition. And no, this wasn’t a rerun from December. It was live. And they weren’t jumping on a snow-covered peak, they were landing on something resembling AstroTurf. Now maybe I’m just narrow-minded, but winter sports have a clearly defined season…It’s called winter. I realize that ski jumping is one of the few sports that Austrians are actually good at, but seriously…

I waited out the ski jumping and was rewarded with…wait for it…wait for it…race walking. Now you should know that I number among those who consider it a travesty race walking is considered a competitive sport by anyone. It ranks right up there with synchronized diving and rhythmic gymnastics as sports people should not have won Olympic medals for. I mean the very term “Race Walking” is an oxymoron. It’s not a race if you’re walking! Race walking is what 3rd graders do when you tell them not to run in the hall. You should not get a medal for that. Ever. And even if you are misguided enough to give people medals for walking fast, you should never, ever show these “competitions” on tv. I would seriously rather watch sprinters warm up for the 200 meter dash. Guess what’s on next?

*Sigh* I miss ESPN.

On my list of things to do today was to deposit some extra pounds into my bank account. No, not those pounds…British Pounds. It’s money. So I wait patiently in line and finally get to the counter and ask to change my British money to American money and deposit it in my account.

The teller looked at the colorful money and said, “We don’t do that here.” I gave her a puzzled look which prompted her to ask the teller next to her, who confirmed that they did not, in fact, change foreign currency.

My teller then told me that I needed to go to bank to make my transaction.

I said, “This isn’t a bank?”

“No sir, this is a Credit Union. You’ll have to go to a real bank to change currency.”

“A real bank?”, I asked, still not convinced that I wasn’t standing in one.

“Yes, a real bank. You know, like Wachovia or Bank of America. This is a credit union. We can’t do that type of thing here.”

So apparently dealing with foreign currency is a pretty big deal around here…One advantage to Austrian banks is that you can walk into pretty much any of them and trade currency. That might actually be the only good thing about Austrian banks, which are open daily from 8:00-3:00, taking an hour and a half lunch break. That’s right, the banks are closed at any and every moment you aren’t working. Thursdays they stay open late…til 5:00. Weekend hours? You must be joking.

I suppose I can’t complain too much, though, since the $5 I needed to open my credit union account is the minimum balance I have to keep in there.

Last week I was running through my parents subdivision in the heat and humidity of the Florida sun. It was my first run through the neighborhood, and I was not quite acclimated to life-sucking heat and humidity here. So on the way back I was feeling a little woozy and dehydrated.

It was then I saw what I believed to be a female peacock…just walking down the road right past me. I slowed, turned, and watched baffled as it waddled into someone’s front lawn. A peacock?!? I thought I’d better get home quick. No telling what I’ll see next. So I turned around to see what I was sure to be a male peacock following the path of his little girlfriend.

Still not quite sure if I was haluccinating or not, I quickly ran the rest of the way home. Later I asked my mom about it and she assured me that there was a whole ostentation of them living out in the back of the neighborhood. Yep, ostentation. That’s what a group of peacocks is called. You could also say muster. A muster of peacocks. I think I prefer ostentation…it makes you sound smarter.

The next morning I saw about 10 of them roaming around. For a big bird, they sure scare easily.