Picture me in the tramway, a piece of paper in one and a pen, that I have been abusing as a chewing stick for the longest time, in the other hand. For some reason inspiration isn’t showing up. Perhaps she is cheating on me with Stephen King (That would not be the first time). Or she just doesn’t like public transports. I don’t care either way, we have stopped talking to each other a long time ago.
I know the route perfectly well. I have been here before. I recall that the last time it took me extremely long to get here and when I got off at the desired destination called “Bellevue Street”, I looked all around me in order to find that there was no church let alone abbey anywhere in sight. Before me, there was a steep hill leading to Who-Knows-Where that I decided to climb. It didn’t really help that there were no people around that I could have asked for directions. All I could see, whilst climbing up that hill, were houses. And by that, I don’t mean just any houses. I mean mansions. And not just any ordinary mansion either, huge mansions. I bet each and every one of them had their own postal code. Now I also became quite aware why they called this neighbourhood “Bellevue Road”. From up here, one could get a great view on Vienna. Everything seemed so small, leading me to philosophize about how humans make a mountain out of a molehill. Things like that don’t really matter when the house you’re living in is smaller than your fingertip.
Having arrived at the top of the hill, I finally encountered a couple of people. By then, I was exhausted and panting. I asked the elderly lady of the bunch if I was heading in the right direction and she told me that she regretted to inform me that I wasn’t. According to her, I would have to go all the way back down the hill. I sighed. The Lady said “My husband and I arranged to meet up in front of the building you are looking for. If you want, we can go there together”. I was really grateful because, knowing myself, I would probably get lost again. During our walk I couldn’t help but marvel at the mansions on both sides. The lady explained that it cost approximately 10,000 € to buy one m² of land in this area. So it would basically cost a fortune to build a house and add even just a small backyard. Most of the houses however even came with a swimming pool plus a garage. We went a little further downhill. The lady pointed to the left and remarked, that we had almost reached our destination. “This already belongs to the place” she added. What I was seeing to my left was a huge park with a neat little greenhouse. When we had finally arrived at the end of the street, I found myself standing in front of a gate leading to yet another park and a complex of huge houses. The lady bid me farewell and I entered through the gate. I was quite stunned and needless to mention, endlessly surprised. I had always assumed that nuns generally led modest lives but reconsidered that there was probably no need for that if you were a member of a church that still made a great deal of money from taxes.
Due to my getting lost and then having to walk all the way back down the hill, I was about 15 minutes late. Apologetically, I called my grandaunt’s phone. A woman with a thick accent answered. I explained who I was and asked where Sister Adelheid was. “Oh. I think she just went out in order to find you.” “Oh no”, I thought. “Oh no” was later confirmed by the Reverend mother, who, on hearing the news, immediately jumped in her car in order to fetch my grandaunt.