Yes, so I went to a proper Austrian ball a few weeks ago. Those dance classes I've been telling you about, well, the ball is what they all culminated to. After a week of 2 hour long daily practices, it was time to suit up. Or rather dress up. White dress up, that is. Jeannine came over after we both got our hair done, and Franz documented us fixing a poofball of a mess, getting ready, and going through what girls go through before going to a ball, I guess. We ordered a cab to the Hofburg, where the ball was to take place. After a bit of rushing about, we went downstairs, and got into the cab.
Rip.
The strap on my dress tore. To make matters worse, it's not even my dress. It's a borrowed dress. I kicked off my shoes, jumped out of the cab, and bolted to the door. Franz, who had been home to document us getting ready, saw me do this and ran behind me as I jogged up the stairs to my apartment, asking me what had happened.
"My strap tore! I have to find something to fix it!!"
And so we scoured the apartment, pulling out desk drawers and turning them upside down. I was really hoping for a safety pin or a paperclip, but alas, this apartment clearly does not belong to a secretary. I left with a mini stapler, a mini sewing kit, and big hopes that my sewing skills would miraculously improve between home and the 10 minute drive to the Hofburg.
Fortunately, Jeannine is a top sewer, and stitched the dress back together in the bustling room full of women in white dresses, no problem. After another practice run, this time in our dresses, we waited around until the ball guests had arrived and it was time for us to "open the ball" with the soldiers. And so, with red roses in hand, we all proceeded to march in, dance one of those dances that you see in Shakespearean movies, and conclude with a sorry excuse for the Wiener Waltzer. The ball was opened, and the guests proceeded to the dance floor to get their own groove on.
We toasted our success with champagne, and then walked around, halfway ogling all the rooms and dresses and guests, and halfway searching for the cryptic place where we were supposed to be able to cash in some certificates for food. We never found the food. We did, however, find a salsa room. Jeannine and I kicked off our shoes, and proceeded to boogie down barefoot until 3:30 in the morning. We called it a night. Mark of success: my feet hurt so badly that I walked home in my socks.
How women put dresses on
This is the room where we opened the ball
Jeannine and her partner
My usual partner was sick, but Christian (this guy, duh) was a lovely substitute
So, we did find food, but wurstel is not suitable for vegetarians
And the fun begins...
Gettin' down
You can also see photos of the opening dance part at http://www.ballfotos.at/ that link under "Ball der Offiziere"
