Goosebump Beach
Strandbad Gänsehäufel
It’s not a lake, it’s an island on the Danube, but I keep calling it a lake. Strandbad Gänsehäufel. I didn’t even know how to pronounce it, but I knew I needed to be in water. Since the move, the Jersey shore had been a distant memory coming in waves over the ornate architecture of Vienna. So many days of cleaning and moving and fatigue.
I chose Strandbad Gänsehäufel because it was close, and because it was #1 on a list of Best Swim Spots in the City. Still, I was nervous as I called the Uber. Would it be like an annoying bingo beach party? Or maybe an insular family picnic where I would feel like an interloper. I had not even taken an Uber by myself in this part of the world.
My fears slipped away quickly as I stepped into something that felt warmly familiar. I had read there were multiple pools and a lakefront. It was a hot day in late August. I expected at least some loud children running, some god-awful music at the concessions, bouts of laughter from groups of teens.
As I walked the grounds, rustic and accommodating, I found only tranquility. The lakefront was a delight. Was that a swan gliding near some women chatting in knee-deep waters? Sunbathers dotted the green grass on their towels, and a pebbly shore met my feet as I navigated my first dip.
Oh, the water was so refreshing! Small fish eyed me warily and the rocks below toyed with me like fool’s gold. How clear the water was. Tall trees on both sides of the riverbank stood watch as I glided towards a dock, the sun behind me, breaststroke helping me make my way. The whole time I could only think, this is perfect, this is perfect. It’s so odd, I never use that word. It was like a mantra that I kept repeating to emphasize the depth of feeling.
After my swim, I headed off to the pool. I had never swum in a stainless-steel pool. It was bracing and refreshing and a decidedly deep shade of blue.
Walking back towards the lake to say goodbye to the swans, I again took in the impressive trees, the giant pool, the sun chairs made of wood. I knew I was revisiting a space that was all too familiar. It was like the summer camps of my childhood.
I had gone to camp every summer for nearly a decade in my childhood. From a tiny camper at the age of six, to a counselor in training at sixteen, all of my summers were spent at the Jewish Community Center campgrounds joyfully romping in the woods, playing kickball, roasting marshmallows on an open fire, and swimming in the pool and the lake.
More than camp, though, this space to me felt like them.
Strandbad Gänsehäufel around 1930
Holocaust survivors had come to the United States and recreated this experience for their children. It was astonishing to be here remembering for them their lost summers in Vienna, and at the same time, feel nostalgic for the place they created for me in the United States. They had given me a simple pleasure they no longer could claim, and here I was reclaiming it for all of us. There was something beyond in this shared remembrance, beyond our time, some kind of perfection in the clear water.