Killing Me Softly (Or: Where there’s smoke, there’s Vienna)

Above everything else, there is one thing that is without question my least favorite thing about Vienna: the smoking. Earlier this year I read an article that called Austria “the last smoking haven of Europe,” and it’s certainly true. While places like Ireland, Scotland, Madrid, and even Paris are going smoke-free in public places, Austria stands resolute as a country that has no intention on changing its smoking regulations, despite the fact that with socialized medicine the government foots the bill for the country’s habit. So on the heels of this week’s announcement by the World Health Organization that an estimated one billion (yes, I said billion) people will lose their lives to tobacco-related deaths in this century, I thought I would dedicate a post to my observations as an ardent non-smoker in a country where I am the clear minority.

Smoking is deeply embedded in the cultural of Vienna. You often see images of the Viennese intelligentsia smoking their cares away at the multitude of cafés that cover this city. But in fairness, smoking was a part of life in nearly every culture on the globe during the past century, so I always feel like this is a bit of a weak argument. Smoking is also completely pervasive. Even at the UN – which ironically the World Health Organization is a part of – you can smoke in your office, and purchase cigarettes at any hour from the handy cigarette vending machines that are on every other floor, as well as on every corner of the city.

To give you a sense of perspective on smoking, let me share some statistics with you. In California, where there are some of the most stringent regulations on smoking in the United States, the average smoking rate is 14%. Nationwide, the average smoking rate is 23% of the population. In Austria, the average smoking rate of ‘dedicated’ smokers is 43%. When you include the individuals who consider themselves ‘casual smokers’ (i.e. people who only smoke when they have a drink, go to a party, etc), the smoking rate jumps to a whopping 60%. And while I wasn’t able to find a precise statistic, I am told that Vienna has far more smokers than any other place in Austria, with somewhere around 60% of the Viennese being regular smokers.

So you can imagine how a California girl who spent the past five years working at the American Cancer Society feels when two-thirds of the people around her are constantly lighting up. Even some of my closest friends in Vienna, who are smart enough to know better, are regular or casual smokers. And while they are always very courteous -- making sure to blow their smoke away, go outside, etc – it still makes me a little sad, because I imagine they just have no idea what lung cancer looks like, or they feel young and invincible, or they just plain don’t care. And at the end of the day it’s their life, and they have all the information in the world, and they’ve simply made their choice. I may not agree with it, but I am resigned and have to accept their decision. But if there is one thing I’ve learned from my time at ACS and simple life experience, it’s that lung cancer is an ugly, awful, painful way to die. Of all the cancers to get, it just might be the most brutal – and that’s saying something.

I’ve recently come to wonder if the Viennese love of smoking has anything to do with the city’s obsession with death. If you open up any guidebook on Vienna you’re likely to find a section on the macabre nature of this city, which seems to revere death as much as life. For instance, last week Todd and I met with a lovely man named Niko, a Viennese historian who happens to be writing a book about Todd’s ancestor Sigmund Bosel (that’s a whole looong story I can tell you about another time). Niko told us that Vienna has its own “Death Club,” to which every Viennese person is invited to join when they turn twenty years of age. The purpose of the club is to help you to start preparing for your eventual demise, which apparently should begin when you’ve just come out of your teens. Nice. And yet another example comes from the grand ol’ Hapsburgs, who decided that every member of the royal family should be buried in above ground, often elaborate tombs in the Kaisergruft. It is a strange enough sensation to be in a crypt surrounded by the embalmed remains of a family that used to rule over half of Europe. It’s even weirder when you discover that you are in fact surrounded by the headless, heartless bodies of the Hapsburg family, as the Hapsburgs decided to have their hearts stored in the crypt of yet another church, and I can’t even remember where their heads are stored. Let’s all take a moment for a collective “Eeeeeewwww.”

So perhaps it is this race to your eventual end that drives the Viennese to smoke with such a passion. I recall that when I first arrived, I saw an ad for cigarettes in English whose slogan proudly said, “Life’s a journey…” I remember laughing to myself, wondering if it was a bad translation or if what they really meant to say was, “Life’s a journey. End it faster with our cigarettes.” But now I think the cigarette company knew their target audience all too well, and indeed what they wanted to say is that they will be there all along the way to ensure that they can help shorten that journey for you with each and every drag.

I’ll never entirely understand the love of smoking here, but the good thing is that we leave Vienna in just one week. And while I’m pretty confident Prague and Budapest will be worse, I look forward to Italy, and ultimately the fresh air off the glorious Pacific. Oh wait, I mean the Atlantic. Is the air fresh off the Atlantic? Damn if I know. Well I’ll leave you now, what few blog readers I have left, as I ponder the quality of air in our new home of New Haven, and dream of the salty smell of the sea. Lots of love to you all!