Tales from the Man who would be King

Rex Jaeschke's Personal Blog

Signs of Life: Part 4

© 2016 Rex Jaeschke. All rights reserved.

From time to time during my travels, I come across signs that I find interesting for one reason or another. Sometimes, they contain clever writing, are humorous, or remind me of some place or event. Here are some more from a trip to Australia in 2015.

 

Kangaroos known to cross the road in this area.

In some places, the bushland is quite close to the edge of the road, in which case, if you are traveling at any sort of speed, you have no chance of avoiding one hopping out onto the road. And this is especially true at night regardless of whether the sides of the road are clear or not.

My brother had one hop right onto the hood (AU: bonnet) of his car, and come through the windshield (AU: windscreen) into the passenger compartment, all the while kicking with its back legs. That sort of an accident can ruin your whole day!

By the way, kangaroos usually don't hop unless being pursued. Instead, to move around, they sit back on their tail, move their back legs forward, then move the tail forward between their legs, and then repeat that process.

These signs always show the animals jumping from the left, but don't take that literally! And do they really jump or hop? I thought that hopping was one leg only while jumping uses both. I've never seen one hop.

 

I found this sign rather amusing, since all my years in Australia, we used the word manure. Now, poo seems to be in fashion.

I'm reminded of the story about President Truman. His daughter, Margaret, had invited a young man to dinner at the White House. After the meal, the President excused himself from the table and said that he had to go and put some manure on the roses. Margaret was quite embarrassed by his language and asked her mother to do something about it. Her mother replied, "If you only knew how long it took me to get him to say manure!"

 

It seems that alpaca poo is cheaper than sheep poo, but then I didn't get to see if the bags where the same size. (See the previous photo.)

So what are alpacas doing in the Aussie bush? Most I saw were in with sheep acting as some sort of protectors. I hadn't seen them on previous visits.

 

Sign outside a leather shop.

Yes, cows tend to be vegetarian, but you still have to kill them to make the leather.

I was reminded of a young man working the booth at a local farmer's market, who was extolling the virtues of the organic beef his family raised. When I asked him, "Were any animals harmed in the production of this meat?" he quickly answered, "No!" However, when I challenged him further, he had to admit that they did kill them.

 

I noticed that a lot of these signs had been erected in recent years. I guess we all recognize a stream train, but I haven't seen one in commercial operation for a very long time, so this seemed a bit odd. On the other hand, what should the picture look like instead and still be effective?

 

My hometown area (the Riverland) is a big fruit-growing region with lots of citrus, stone fruits, and vineyards. For many years, fruit flies have existed in parts of Australia, and it is illegal to transport fruit out of infested areas.

The main highway going from the state of Victoria to the state of South Australia has a 24-hour, manned roadblock at which fruit is confiscated.

This particular sign was on a lessor rural highway some 20 miles outside the Riverland. It is an honor system in that drivers are asked to dispose of their fruit into the bin, but sometimes law enforcement personnel stop cars further down the road to check. Failure to comply results in a heavy fine.

 

From a T-shirt.

For me, this was a new take on the old nursery rhyme. I know of two others:

Mary had a little lamb, You've heard this tale before. But did you know she passed her plate, And had a little more?

Mary had a little lamb, The Doctor was surprised. But when Old MacDonald had a farm, He couldn't believe his eyes!

 

If you saw this just on its own, you'd be hard-pressed to figure out its meaning. However, when seen next to a gas station (AU: roadhouse), you might have a chance.

The fundamental thing to know is that petrol is what we in America call gasoline. Given that, pulp is premium unleaded petrol and ulp is unleaded petrol. Down Under, diesel is called distillate, and abbreviated dist. And gas means liquified petroleum gas (LPG). Of course, these notations only apply on days not involving a full moon!

 

Although quite predictable, I though this sign was udderly amusing!

 

Certainly the park containing this forest had daylight-only access hours, but I couldn't help thinking having this sign at the edge of the forest once inside the park was a bit strange. Perhaps it was intended for the animals!

 

From a branch of Members Equity Bank Limited, operating as ME, a national bank based in Melbourne, Australia.

From their promo material, "We believe that banks have become too complex and the best kind of bank for our customers is one that simply helps you get ahead."

 

We've already seen the kangaroo warning. In this case, we need to watch out for emus as well. As for the other critter, it looks a lot like a frill-neck lizzard (which was featured on the 2-cent coin until that was discontinued). In the latter case, the warning is more about not running over them than being concerned about a crash.

During my short visit to Kangaroo Island (where this photo was taken), there were so many dead kangaroos and wallabies on the roads—hit by vehicles—that I saw a number of carcasses being eaten by goannas more than three feet long.

 

Here we have a wallaby, a spiny ant eater, and a goanna. I got to see live ones up close.

 

From the same leather shop as featured earlier.

 

From a building in an old German Lutheran-settled town in the Adelaide Hills. That said, I saw no evidence of any concubines.

As they say, "The Lord moves in mysterious ways."

 

At the Cape Jervis ferry terminal for Kangaroo Island.

At a glance, this is an interesting set of things to prohibit.

 

 

English – Part 6: Verbs

© 2016 Rex Jaeschke. All rights reserved.

In Part 5, we looked at adjectives. This time, we'll look at verbs. According to Wikipedia, a verb (abbrev. v. or vb.) is "a word that … conveys an action (bring, read, walk, run, learn), an occurrence (happen, become), or a state of being (be, exist, stand)."

The Infinitive Verb Form

All verbs have numerous forms (called conjugations, which we'll cover later) that indicate a number, person, and tense; for example, swim, swims, and swam. However, a verb typically appears in a dictionary only in its infinitive form (that is, present-tense, first-person, singular), which in this case, is swim.

In grammatical contexts, verbs are often prefixed with "to", as in to bring, to happen, and to be; however, the prefix—which itself is a particle—is not part of the dictionary entry. That said, we can use the prefix in regular speech: "I want to eat lunch.", "She declined to go with him.", and "They didn't know what to do."

In some languages (but not English), verbs in the infinitive end in a regular pattern. For example, most German verbs end in -en, with a few ending in -eln or -ern. Spanish verbs end in -ar, -er, or -ir. In French, they typically end in -re, -er, oir, or -ir.

A controversial topic is the split infinitive. Splitting an infinitive involves putting an adverb or adverbial phrase between the infinitive form of a verb and its prefix "to", as in "The cost is expected to rapidly increase over time." As we can see, the word rapidly splits the infinitive to increase. Likewise for, "I want to once again say …". Some purists consider such splits to be intolerable interruptions.

According to Wikipedia, 'In the 19th century, some grammatical authorities sought to introduce a prescriptive rule against it [splitting infinitives]. The construction is still the subject of disagreement: "No other grammatical issue has so divided English speakers since the split infinitive was declared to be a solecism in the 19c [19th century]: raise the subject of English usage in any conversation today and it is sure to be mentioned." Most modern English usage guides have dropped the objection to the split infinitive.'

From Patricia T. O'Conner's Woe is I (an eminently readable book on English grammar, and one I highly recommend), 'Sometimes, rewriting a sentence to avoid a "split" makes it ridiculous. Try rearranging the words in this example: "He threatened to more than double her rent."'

Note that Microsoft Word has an option to detect split infinitives consisting of two or more words, but not just one.

Transitivity

As an intransitive verb stands alone, it needs no direct object, although it can be followed by an adverb. For example: "I run", "He walked slowly", and "They smiled".

As a transitive verb needs something on which to operate, it requires a noun (such as a direct object) or noun phrase (which might also include an indirect object). For example: "I drink milk", "We built a snowman", and "They gave the money to the salesman".

Some verbs can be used in both transitive and intransitive forms, as in "I smell" and "I smell the sea". In the case of "I smell", one could argue that is ambiguous, as it could mean "I can and do smell with my nose" or "I stink". Similarly, "I count" could mean, "I can and do count numbers" or "I matter". Hopefully, the meaning is clear based on the context of the conversation.

Some intransitive verbs can also be written in transitive form, as in "He died a horrible death". The noun phrase simply adds emphasis or embellishment, and doesn't change the fact that the implied object of dying in the transitive form always is death.

Verb Conjugation

Depending on the language, a verb can take on different forms depending on the person, number, or tense. The great news is that, for the most part, this is so simple in English, that we can live life to the fullest with little or no consideration of it. For example, in the present tense:

  • First-person, singular and plural: I/we run, jump, sleep
  • Second-person, singular and plural: you run, jump, sleep
  • Third-person, singular: he/she/it runs, jumps, sleeps
  • Third-person, plural: they run, jump, sleep

Ordinarily, we use the infinite form in all cases except for third-person, singular, where we add -s.

Using past tense, I/we/you/he/she/it/they ran, jumped, slept. While the verb is changed slightly, all cases are the same. And using future tense, I/we/you/he/she/it/they will run, jump, sleep. The auxiliary verb will is used, but the verb it "helps" is in the infinite form in all cases.

Well if it's so simple, then why mention it? That's a fair question, but in order to appreciate the simplicity, let's look at how this works in some other languages, lest you have a romantic idea of learning one any time soon. (My apologies if this brings back painful memories of long-forgotten foreign-language classes.)

Here is an example in Spanish:

Present Tense of the Verb comer (to eat)

 

Singular

Plural

1st Person

como

comemos

2st Person

comes

coméis

3st Person/Formal

come

comen

Yes, Ladies and Gentlemen, this verb has six forms for this tense, and guess what? Spanish has 14 tenses, most of which require other forms yet again. Holy Toledo! By the way, Spanish has two forms of you: the formal and informal, where the formal is used as a sign of respect. While the informal is the same as second-person in English, in Spanish, just to make things a bit more interesting, the formal you uses the same conjugation patterns as for third-person.

Are you ready for more? Vell zen, let's svitch to Cherman (as God intended):

Present Tense of the Verb essen (to eat)

 

Singular

Plural

1st Person

esse

essen

2st Person

iβt

eβt

3st Person/Formal

iβt

essen

Again, we see six forms for this tense, but several are duplicated, although the pattern is not universal. And yes, some other tenses also have their own forms while others using the infinite and one or more auxiliary verbs. And like Spanish, the formal you uses the same pattern as third-person.

I present these as tables, as that's how you'll often see then in grammar books, although several language teachers I've encountered kept on saying, "Don't try to remember them as tables!" Of course, being a student of mathematics and computer science, I do remember them exactly in that format!

There are a number of series of books with titles like "101 [or 501] xxx Verbs", where xxx is the name of some language. They are full of nothing but tables of conjugations, which after a very short while, can make your head spin.

I spent quite a lot of time on my own learning bits and pieces of Spanish and German, but the complexity of conjugation (along with gender and its impact on nouns and articles) kept me from getting beyond basic proficiency. Therefore, when I started dabbling in Japanese, I was very happy to learn that not only do its verbs exist in infinite form only, that language has no gender or articles! (Of course, they managed to find other ways to complicate things, such as writing and reading!)

Earlier, I mentioned patterns of verb endings. Most verbs have such a pattern, in which case, they are referred to as regular verbs. By deduction, irregular verbs do not follow such a pattern.

In English, the classic example of an irregular verb is the fundamental to be:

Present Tense of the Verb to be

 

Singular

Plural

1st Person

am

are

2st Person

are

are

3st Person

is

are

This verb is also irregular in Spanish and German.

Auxiliary Verbs

Often called a helping verb, an auxiliary verb adds extra meaning to another verb. Examples include can, may, would like to, must, should, want to, and have to. (Most of these are also modal verbs.) In the following examples, the main noun is underlined and the auxiliary verbs are in bold:

  • "She must buy bread."
  • "I could have gone yesterday."
  • "The criminal should have been caught."

Note that the main verb is always written in the infinitive form, usually without the "to".

In English, the auxiliary verbs usually go together, immediately preceding the main noun, although intervening words are possible. For example:

  • "They should not walk in that neighborhood at night."
  • "I can only swim on Fridays."
  • "She must never say such things."

In many cases, the main verb is used with the to prefix, as in "I have to work on Saturday."

In German, when using an auxiliary verb, the main verb must come at the end of the phrase or sentence. For example, the English "I want to go to the beach" becomes "ich will zum Strand gehen". Now it isn't hard to contrive a long sentence in German—think of a bureaucrat speaking in an obfuscated way— in which the main verb comes at the very end. For people doing simultaneous translation of such speeches from German, the joke is, "Hurry up and get to the verb!" as they can't start saying the translated equivalent until they know the main verb.

Reflexive Verbs

A reflexive verb is one whose direct object is the same as its subject. For example:

  • I got myself out of bed.
  • He hurt himself while horse riding.
  • They warmed themselves by the fire.

In each case, the direct object is a reflexive pronoun, myself, himself, and themselves.

Let's make the direct objects non-reflexive. For example:

  • I got my son out of bed.
  • He hurt a pedestrian while horse riding.
  • They warmed their boots by the fire.

The verb forms are the same in each set, which is the norm in English. But as you might expect by now, that isn't the case in other languages. Spanish has many reflexive verbs, which when written in their infinitive form all end is -se, and that is how you find them in a Spanish dictionary. Some examples are to go to bed, to get up, to fall asleep, to shave oneself, to put on, and to take off.

Phrasal Verbs

Some verbs involve multiple words, as in to drop off, to get up, to go home, to go back, to go over, to put off, to put out, and to put down.

They often have the form verb + adverb.

Such verbs can be transitive or intransitive. The main issue is whether one can split the parts of a transitive phrasal verb. For example:

  • I asked him to put out the trash.

vs.

  • I asked him to put the trash out.

Yes, we usually can, unless the direct object is a pronoun, in which case, we really must split it. For example, we can say:

  • I asked him to put it out.

But not

  • I asked him to put out it.

Further Reading

If you still can't sleep, click on the links to learn about participles, both present and past, and gerunds, those verb forms that end in -ing. Also English verbs.

Conclusion

English has a huge number of specialized verbs, most of which the average person doesn't even know about, and many others we rarely use except perhaps in word puzzles. Try and use some of the following during casual conversation at your next cocktail party: behoove, discombobulate, elide, eschew, expectorate, flummox, fulminate, lollygag, pontificate, and prevaricate.

Travel: Memories of Switzerland

© 2015 Rex Jaeschke. All rights reserved.

Official Name: Swiss Confederation; Capital: Bern; Language: German, French, Italian, Romansch; Country Code: CH (from the Latin Confoederatio Helvetica); Currency: Swiss franc (CHF)

I've visited Switzerland a number of times, mostly in and around Geneva and the lake of the same name.

From a business trip with my wife in 2001, to Montreux and surrounds:

[Diary] At the main station we boarded the 10:40:00-am train to Lausanne. (I can say 10:40:00 with confidence; after all, this was Switzerland!) The ride along the shore of Lake Geneva took 40 minutes. On arrival we were helped by a pleasant young lady at the tourist office who gave us a map and details on catching the on-going ferry. We bought some food at a nearby stand and I got my liter of cold milk at the supermarket. Then we headed down the steep hill to the Botanic Gardens for a "Swiss picnic in the park". We toured a nice rock garden and then found the small falls and ponds I was looking for.

From there we proceeded down the hill to the waterfront where we sat in the shade waiting for the ferry ticket office to open after the lunch-time break. The ferry arrived and we all boarded in a matter of minutes. At 2:05 pm, the horn sounded and we were off. We were installed in First Class, on the upper deck, in the shade, surrounded by other foreigners. There seemed to be two tour groups on board, with lots of Aussies and Poms (English). We were on Lake Geneva headed for Montreux, an 80-minute trip.

We were going east along the north shore, and the hill up from the shore was quite steep. There were terraces of grape vines all the way up. There was a light fog on the lake, but we could see the other side. In fact, we could see snow on the Alps a mile or so away to the south. We made a number of stops along the way.

We arrived at Montreux dock at 3:30 pm where we disembarked and dropped into the tourist office for a town map and directions to our hotel. After a 5-minute walk along the lake we arrived at the Hotel Eden du Lac (Eden on the Lake). Naturally, the outdoor restaurant was called "The Garden of Eden". It was a fine old hotel with a little bit of "new" thrown in. It had wooden floors with inlaid sections, large French windows and drapes, and space-age glass-sided elevators.

Our room was very large, and the French windows lead to a small balcony that overlooked the garden and lake, with a fine view across to the snow-covered Alps on the French side. The furnishings were very nice and all the knobs in the bathroom were gold-colored. We unpacked and explored the grounds before sitting in the salon reading newspapers. A Russian couple arrived at 5:45 pm; he with acoustic guitar and she with violin. They played an eclectic suite for quite some time.

Eventually, a group of fellow conventioneers and their partners gathered and we headed off to a restaurant that specialized in raclette and fondue, traditional Swiss eating styles.

[Diary] My business meeting group broke for morning coffee and, later, for lunch on the terrace, since the weather was unexpectedly very nice. My lunch included a dish of quail with herbs and a salad, followed by salmon in a parsley sauce with potato rissoles and royal carrots, topped off with a wonderful cream custard with glaze, and, finally, hot tea. Just the thing for a growing boy!

[Diary] At 12:30 pm, we broke for lunch in the garden. This included a shrimp salad, tournedos de poularde (chicken wrapped in bacon), rice in saffron, and warm cucumber slices, followed by a lemon sorbet dessert, optionally with vodka topping.

[Diary] After the meeting ended, my wife and I arrived in Grandvaux by train to find our host, Dan, waiting to collect us. After a short drive up the mountain we reached his very large home and met his wife Susanne, and their two children, Sophie (aged 9) and Adrian (aged 5). Dan was Romanian and Susanne was Danish, but both had lived in Switzerland many years. She spoke Danish to the kids and, of course, they all spoke French. The kids would learn German late in elementary school. Both parents were psychiatrists. Since both worked fulltime they had an au pair, a young woman from Denmark. Over dinner, we learned that Swiss women only got the right to vote in 1971. Also, despite existing for some 1,200 years as a very stable country/government, the country was very poor until less than 100 years ago.

[Diary] We went driving in the local area. There were many acres of vineyards, all protected by law from housing and commercial development. The average slope was 45 degrees, and in places got much steeper, so you can imagine how difficult it was to work the vines. Rows were broken up into quite small areas each of which was terraced with a tall retaining stone wall. The area has been settled for more than 800 years and the Cistercian monks built all the early terracing. In the mid-1500's much of the land was confiscated from the church by the government, during the Reformation, when the Catholic Church started to lose control of things. The main area had about 275 acres of vines shared among 40 growers most of whom also made wine. The wine produced was unique given that the grapes got direct sunlight, light reflected from the lake down below, and heat radiated from the many and huge retaining walls during the night as they cooled off.

[Diary] As we sat and took in the surroundings, I spied a fox coming through the vineyard toward a house. It climbed the steep stone steps up to the back gate of a house, climbed through the gate and proceeded to check out the back yard presumably looking for cat and/or dog food. Then it went around the side of the house out to a street and on its merry way. I've heard of the country mouse visiting the city mouse, so I guess this is the Swiss version for foxes.

[Diary] Dan told us that all houses built since early in the Cold War, were—and most interestingly, still are—required to have nuclear war shelters. He gave us a tour of his. The walls were very thin concrete with an enormous steel and concrete door. There was an air filtering device that operated on electricity, but should that fail, it could be turned by hand. There was also an oiled hole to the outside through which to push a radio antenna. In theory, owners were supposed to maintain bedding, food and water, and such there at all times. In fact, these shelters were inspected every year by a local official. Fortunately, the locals get a bit of notice, so they can move all their wine and other stuff from there and set it up just to pass inspection.

From a business trip in 2006, to Geneva:

[Diary] From the airport, I took the train into the city, and then a taxi to my hotel. It was quite adequate: a large bed, TV, microwave oven, fridge, and wireless internet connection were supplied, and a continental breakfast was included. By this time, the stores had closed, so I had to resort to a convenience store for some basic kitchen supplies; they were very expensive! I had some Middle Eastern food then went to bed. Unfortunately, the hotel had a very noisy nightclub in the basement. Fortunately, I had some earplugs, and they did a reasonable job.

[Diary] The next morning, a Japanese colleague and I spent several hours walking along the edge of Lake Geneva as vendors set up their food and souvenir shops. We stopped to look at the famous floral clock, a large almost-horizontal clock with metal hands whose face is made from flowers growing in beds. Each year, the flowers are planted in different arrangements. After a nap, I joined several colleagues for dinner at an Italian restaurant. Unfortunately, smoking is very common, and there is no such thing as a non-smoking area in eating places. It rained all afternoon and night.

[Diary] After dinner, it was on to a performance by Cirque du Soleil, a world-famous acrobatic troupe. They were absolutely magnificent! Although I had seen them perform on TV a number of times, this was my first time live. I highly recommend it if you get the chance.

From a business trip in 2008, to Geneva (which the Germans call Genf, as I discovered while reading the Frankfurt Airport Departures screen). Despite the excerpts below, I did more than just eat on that trip:

[Diary] The front-desk assistant at the hotel was ever so happy to see me, and "Bon Jour"ed me with a sweet smile. I gave her my passport and credit card, and she gave me a key. A porter hauled my luggage up to my room. Room 506 was on the 5th floor and had a small balcony over a main street and a small view of the lake. The hotel was situated right in the downtown area and cost CHFs 230/night, which included internet access, a buffet breakfast, and my share of a meeting room and catering for four days of meetings; pretty good for this city. I had a large bed, plenty of tasteful older-style furniture, a small refrigerator, large digital TV on the wall in front of my bed, and a large plate of fresh fruit nicely packaged. By the time I unpacked it was 2:15 pm, and I was getting my second wind. I had a long hot shower and then snacked on cheese and fruit as the rain come down.

[Diary] Next morning, I was the first to arrive in the dining room for breakfast. I ordered tea, but then the waitress asked me a question. And in French too! How dare she? As was typical when I'm "assaulted by a foreign language", I had trouble recognizing the first few words, so didn't hear the rest of them, but, eventually, I deduced that she wanted my room number, just to make sure I wasn't some homeless person who'd wandered in off the street for a free breakfast. Of course, when she asked the same question of the next poor unsuspecting foreign guest, being infinitely wiser, I was able to translate for him.

[Diary] My committee met from 9 am to 5:45 pm, stopping for morning and afternoon breaks, during which tea, coffee and very nice pastries were served. Lunch was catered and was served in an adjourning room. To begin, there was a poached egg in a mushroom crust. Next came fingers of ham, gratinated macaroni, and green peas. For dessert, we had apple Tatin pie with salted butter caramel ice cream. Coffee followed. All in all, it was quite good and looked very attractive. In fact, several dishes were quite artistic.

[Diary] Next day, we broke for another nice lunch at 12:15 pm. To begin there was Scottish salmon Carpaccio with crystallized lemon and leek vinaigrette. Next came flank of veal cooked a la plancha style and served with pumpkin gnocchi and broccoli with butter. For dessert, there was a chocolate praline brownie with white chocolate sorbet. I was near full after the appetizer, but, unfortunately, that didn't stop me eating.

[Diary] We worked steadily throughout the day, taking the usual breaks during which more food was forced upon us. I managed to avoid the morning and afternoon tea pastries, but took advantage of two of the three courses at lunch. I passed on the chicory salad with Roquefort cheese, figs, grapes and walnuts. The main course was roasted guinea fowl with autumn chanterelles (mushrooms), small potato pancakes and vegetables. Dessert was pear clafoutis. I followed that with a cup of proper tea.

[Diary] The next day, we had the usual wonderful selection of pastries at 9 am, 10:30 am and 3 pm, and lunch was the usual great spread. I passed on the poultry liver terrine with figs and salad, saving myself for the main course. That was halibut fillet meunière with cabbage stuffed with salmon, all with vegetables and cream of parmesan cheese. I was well into it when the waiter came looking for me to tell me the sauce contained shrimp, and that he had a plate without. Being allergic to shellfish I took the alternate plate. Unfortunately, the shrimp pieces I'd already eaten started to work their (black) magic, and parts of my lips and mouth started to feel a bit odd. Fortunately, I hadn't eaten very much, and the black chocolate and chestnut macaroon with praline ice cream proved to be an effective antidote. And the boiling cup of tea rounded things out very nicely.

Mid-afternoon, a great parade came down the street outside our hotel, so we all moved out on the balcony to watch it pass by. There were many students in costumes, and vans laden with sound equipment blasted the neighborhood with various kinds of music. The procession took at least 15 minutes to go by.

[Diary] That evening, mid-way through my meal, three children came in to the restaurant and sang for the guests, and then passed around a hat for donations. I contributed two francs. The older boy was dressed as a cowboy, the older girl as a pirate, and the younger girl as a butterfly, or maybe she was an angel! Later, three teenage boys came and sang half-heartedly, and as they seemed to be in it for the money only, I declined to contribute.

From a business trip in 2011, to Geneva:

[Diary] Having discovered United's refurbished Boeing 767s several years ago, I try to fly their Business Class whenever I can especially for overnight trans-Atlantic flights. I took up my usual seat, 8A, at a window facing backwards where I could keep my eye on the portside engine. The flight was completely full. Once we got our safety instructions in English and French, flight UA974 took off from Washington Dulles International (IAD) to the west in bright sunshine, then turned north and northeast. I settled in to watch the animated movie Rango, which was mildly amusing.

After the usual bowl of nuts and drink, dinner was served. First up was a wonderful serving of smoked salmon with cucumber and dill. That was followed by a crunchy salad with ranch dressing. For my main course, I chose braised beef short ribs with roasted shallot sauce, oven-roasted fingerling potatoes, and grilled asparagus.

By the time dinner and the movie were finished, we were over Halifax, Nova Scotia, headed for Newfoundland and the open Atlantic. I declined the port wine and cheese, but did succumb to a large scoop of vanilla and passion fruit ice cream.

Around 8 pm, it got dark rather quickly as we flew east into the night. At 8:30, I yawned, lay back my seat until it was almost flat, and started counting sheep; baa-1, baa-2, baa…zzz.

I slept reasonably well and woke to find it was 1 am back home, at which time I advanced my clock six hours to GMT+1 with summertime. We were 40 minutes out from Geneva. I opened my blind slightly and was pleased to see that the port engine was still there and functioning perfectly. [Don't you just love that when that happens?] According to my flight map, we'd crossed the extreme tip of southwest England, entered France near Cherbourg, and passed to the south of Paris.

A flight attendant promptly placed a cloth on my table and served me orange juice, a fruit plate, and a croissant with strawberry jam. And she did so with a smile although I suspect she had had no sleep at all. I opened my blind all the way to see a beautiful day below. The sun was shining brightly over a patchwork quilt of green fields and ripening cereal crops. The color of the river directly below had a distinct glacial milk tinge to it.

We had a perfect landing at GVA ahead of our scheduled 8-am arrival, and as we taxied to our terminal, I saw a, Aeroflot plane from Russia, an Etihad jet from Abu Dhabi, and a Garuda plane from Indonesia; not your usual sights. Passport control was a formality, and most of my time at the immigration window was taken up by the officer looking for space in my passport in which to put an arrival stamp. After a bit of a walk, I reached the baggage area and my bag came out a few minutes later. There was no customs control. I stopped off at a machine to get my free ticket to ride public transportation anywhere in the metro area for the next 80 minutes.

All trains from the airport stop downtown, so I boarded the next one, an inter-regional headed for Lausanne and Montreux. It took 10 minutes to get to Gare Cornavin, the main station. I stepped out on the platform into glorious sunshine. Having had a much better than average sleep for an overnight flight I decided to walk the 1+ km to my hotel. Vehicle and pedestrian traffic was heavy as the locals were headed to work. I walked down Rue Mont Blanc to Lake Geneva where I crossed the Pont du Mont Blanc Bridge to the old town. And there, at 13 place Longmalle, was the Hotel Longmalle, right where I'd left it at the end of my previous visit!

Two very pleasant young women were there to greet me at reception. Yes, they were expecting me and although check-in was not until 2 pm—it was not yet 9 am—they promised me a double room within the hour. As it was such a nice day, I suggested we put a "Closed" sign on the door and take a picnic into the mountains. They agreed that was a fine idea, but, unfortunately, they had to work. C'est la vie!

I worked on this diary while seated in the hotel lobby, and after 20 minutes my room was ready and the bellman took my luggage and lead me to the elevator. In my room, I connected to the outside world to receive new email, then showered and jumped into bed. Although I hoped to have three hours of deep sleep, it was a long time coming and wasn't so deep. However, I awoke at 1 pm feeling fair.

At 1:30, I headed out and it was still glorious. I walked the six blocks to the headquarters of an international consortium with which I do business, and I spent several hours there sipping tea and chatting to various staff members. I walked back to my hotel along the lakefront and through the gardens passed the famous floral clock. The equally famous 200-meter tall fountain, Jet d'Eau, was operating out in the lake.

Back in my room, I took care of some email. I'd asked the international hosting organization Servas for a list of hosts in Poland and that had arrived, so I read through some entries in two cities looking for both day and overnight hosts. [After Geneva, I was going to Berlin for more business meetings, and then onto western Poland for a vacation.]

At 5 o'clock, I went back to the lake and bought a ticket for a 75-minute boat tour. We departed at 5:20. Seated next to me was a young couple from Melbourne, Australia. They were traveling around Italy, Switzerland, and France for a month. I also chatted with an American man and woman from Washington DC and my home city, Reston, respectively. As we talked some more we found that we'd arrived on the same overnight flight. In fact, they were flight attendants with United and both of them had served me in-flight. The recorded narration on the tour was broadcast in French, English, German, Spanish, and Italian, and my brochure was in English, Japanese, Arabic, and Russian. Sacrebleu!

After a short walk, I was at my familiar Italian restaurant, San Marco, where I sipped a glass of pineapple juice while studying the pizza section of the menu. I placed my order and read a newspaper while I waited for my food. The pizza was delicious, but a bit more than I really needed. I took my time eating and reading. The best thing was that there was no air conditioning.

The sun had dropped below the buildings and a cool breeze blew. I decided to walk up the steep hill to the old city where I sat in a park watching the world go by while savoring a half-liter carton of milk. Then I walked through an area with lots of outdoor restaurants and then back to lake level. I spent a few minutes listening to some street musicians before heading back to my hotel. Lights out at 10:30 pm.

[Diary] I was wide-awake at 1 am and never quite got back to sleep. I certainly was not ready to get up when my 9:30 am alarm sounded. By the time I'd showered, dressed, and packed my computer bag, there was no time left for breakfast. I took a taxi to the headquarters of the International Standards Organization (ISO).

I met with a man who had recently joined ISO from the Washington DC area, and we continued our discussions over lunch outdoors at a pizza restaurant nearby. Back at his office, I also met several other staff in his department who were working on the latest edition of one of my documents. It was a very productive five hours.

It was glorious out and as I had plenty of time, I figured out the local bus system and how to use the free transportation card issued to me by my hotel, and I rode a bus back to my hotel where I worked in my room for an hour.

At 5 pm, I was back on the bus headed for the Royal Hotel to attend a reception for US-based attendees for the up-coming conference. Afterwards, I rode the bus back home. Lights out at 10:30 pm.

[Diary] I slept until 3:15 am and then not much more until my alarm at 6:30; bugger! I ate breakfast at the hotel, read a newspaper, and dealt with new email.

Outside it was another nice day. I rode the bus to the big convention center where I registered for the 2-day ISO committee chairs' conference. We started promptly at 9:30 with 180 delegates from 40-odd countries speaking at least 25 different first languages. All business was conducted in English.

Assuming it was going to be a rather boring set of "lectures" with attendees seated classroom-style, I'd planned to do a whole lot of work on my laptop. Instead, I was surprised to find round tables for 8–10 people, with laptop and mobile phone usage banned! At the start of each agenda item, a speaker introduced the topic after which the people at each table had to brainstorm solutions for the problems presented, with the aid of a facilitator. Each table then appointed a spokesperson who presented their collective ideas, sometimes with a limit of 60 seconds! Apparently, it was a different approach from previous years. In any event, it worked well and I got quite involved even acting as a spokesman. Throughout the day attendees got to move to different tables as their interests dictated. It sure was a diverse group. For example, there were representatives from the oil and gas industry, dentistry, law enforcement, heavy earth-moving equipment, information technology, aviation, and greenhouse gases/climate-related fields, to name a few.

Having had a decent breakfast, I skipped lunch and worked on my laptop. Mid-afternoon, I faded and had 40 winks during one presentation. We broke for the day at 6 pm and moved to an adjacent space for a reception that consisted of food that was so substantial it served as my evening meal.

[Diary] After 9:30 hours of solid sleep, I felt great! The day went much the same as the one before except that we had a very fancy buffet lunch, during which I met quite a few interesting people. We finished at 5 o'clock and I left in light drizzle. Having had a big lunch, I wanted a small supper, so after working in my room for several hours, I paid a visit to "Chez McDonalds". I happened to sit at a table right next to a door with a combination lock, and people kept coming and going through it constantly. I figured it was the staff entry to the kitchen. However, people kept asking me something about the door, in French, of course. Finally, it occurred to me that it was the door leading to the toilets, and to enter one needed the access code printed on one's meal receipt.

[Diary] It had rained all night and there was still light drizzle, so I borrowed an umbrella from the hotel. Soon after, my friend Daniela (formerly from Perth, Australia, and now living in Geneva), arrived and we walked into the old city looking for a place to eat lunch. There were many places from which to choose, but it took us a while to find just the right one, an Italian pasta house. In traditional European style, we took three hours to eat, talk, and drink coffee. We hadn't seen each other in more than two years, and it was great to catch up with her and to see her smiling face.

That evening, Daniela picked me up for an evening with her friends, Liz and Jean-Marc and family, at their lovely house on a mountainside in France overlooking greater Geneva. The weather had cleared up and the sun was out. We started out with champagne and several kinds of quiche, followed by BBQ'ed pork sausages and chicken kebabs, and wrapped up with chocolate cake and Twining's finest Earl Grey tea. Throughout, we talked of many things. Quite coincidentally, Liz had attended the same conference as me where she had heard me speak. We said 'Au revoir' around 10 pm and drove back to my hotel in heavy rain.

Conclusion

Except for the French-speaking Lake Geneva area, I've seen very little of the country. However, one summer, my family and I, complete with grandparents, spent a day and night near Lake Constance, after having previously been in Germany, Austria, Italy, and Liechtenstein. Although I've been through the Zurich airport a number of times, I've only ever seen its gates and business lounge.

Bucket List: I can easily imagine spending a couple of weeks wandering from village to village and around the countryside, and even hiking from hut-to-hut on some of the mountain paths. I'd also like to visit some of the German-speaking areas.

Signs of Life: Part 3

© 2015 Rex Jaeschke. All rights reserved.

From time to time during my travels, I come across signs that I find interesting for one reason or another. Sometimes, they contain clever writing, are humorous, or remind me of some place or event. Here are some more from a recent trip to London and Yorkshire in England.

 

A magic shop.

 

But can they spell properly?

 

Instructions in a telephone booth (pay phone).

 

To reverse the charges is equivalent to America's to call collect.

 

Sign outside a pie shop.

 

This uses the general style of London Underground (Tube) station name signs.

 

Sign in a lane behind a business.

 

I've heard of cow tipping, but I couldn't figure out what this meant without researching it further. Apparently, it means no illegal dumping.

 

This just seemed odd. Did they mean one should not be tresspassing, so as to use the basketball facility? I really couldn't figure it out. And just what are authorized uses of basketball posts? And when did basket ball become two words?

 

A restaurant menu.

 

This was near and dear to my heart, as I've long used the term rabbit food to mean salad, and for exotic salads, I call them "California leaves and twigs".

 

Don't you just hate that when someone eats all the pies?

 

A shoe store.

 

The play here is on the word chiropody.

 

What a crazy name for a hairdresser's!

 

A chain of bars that also serve food.

 

Now while slugs very likely do eat lettuce, my guess is that the play here is the use of slug to mean a drink, as in, "He took a slug of whiskey."

 

Rumor has it that he is a distant relative of Thomas the Tank Engine!

 

Sign on a private gate next to a public path.

 

I must say that as I passed by, I did look around to see if I could see anyone with a gun.

 

A tea and coffee shop just for fans of Lewis Carroll.

 

Direction to a public toilet.

 

The internationally recognized term WC is an abbreviation for water closet, an early name for a flush toilet.

 

BTW, according to Wikipedia, "Contrary to widespread misconceptions, [Thomas] Crapper did not invent the flush toilet." However, he did improve it.

 

Collection boot for donations to the Royal National Mission to Deep Sea Fishermen.

 

To wang is to throw, and a welly is a Wellington boot.

 

So what do you suppose this place sells? Apparently, mobile phones and such. That said I don't know about One. and Two.

 

 

Accidents and Incidents

© 2015 Rex Jaeschke. All rights reserved.

As a boy and a young man, I experienced my fair share of "interesting events". I even had a couple of visits to a hospital's Emergency Room, but, unfortunately, not as many as I should have. Being right-handed and right-legged, it's no surprise that most of the scars on my body are on my right side. After all, that's the side I naturally lead with.

The Big Fire

When I was about five, a young girl from the neighboring farm was over at my house to play. As was common at the time, pigsties were sheds with roofs made of straw spread over chicken wire. Probably the most common birds in the area were sparrows, and they made nests in these straw roofs (as well as in other places). As sparrows were considered pests, I grew up being encouraged to destroy their nests as the opportunity arose. In this case, there were so many nests that I found pulling them apart by hand to be onerous. And so I proposed that we burn them out. Yes, Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, I deliberately set fire to the straw roof. Unfortunately, my solution far exceeded my expectations, as it also destroyed a good part of the pigsties. Several pigs that were burned rather badly had to be put down. Quite some time after the alarm was raised, the Loxton Volunteer Fire Brigade arrived. I'm pretty sure my Dad whipped my butt afterwards. And although I've been somewhat fascinated by fire ever since—especially campfires—I have shown great restraint.

Around the Farm

From age 7–11, I lived on a 4,000-acre wheat and sheep farm. A popular activity for rural boys was bird nesting, which involved the climbing of trees and the taking eggs from bird's nests and blowing them (removing the contents through a small hole by blowing) to make an egg collection. Sparrows were rife, and Dad encouraged me to destroy their nests at every opportunity. Many nests were at the top of stone walls of various implement sheds just beneath the corrugated-iron roofs. One summer's day, I put my hand in such a nest to remove any eggs when something strange touched me. Then out popped the head of a rather large snake that had somehow gotten up to there to eat the eggs. After that, it took me a while to get up the courage to put my hand back into that kind of nest. Magpies didn't take kindly to having their nests robbed, and they would often swoop down on the heads of anyone climbing up a tree to their nest. And their beaks were sharp. Other birds that had nests were crows, tomtits, and pigeons.

I was probably about nine when I started shooting with a .22 rifle. And while I managed to shoot the occasional bird, I figure I missed far more than I hit. I had only one shooting accident in my life, which, of course, is one too many, but that didn't happen until I was a teenager. I was sitting in the kitchen cleaning the rifle, and managed to discharge a bullet right into the door frame.

To earn some serious pocket money, I trapped rabbits, although I seemed to have a problem remembering exactly where I'd set all of them, so sometimes I came home one or two short. When I had traps set, I had to get up early and go around them, especially in summer, to make sure the rabbits didn't die of heat. On school days, this mean a very early start. A number of incidents come to mind: One early morning, I came to a rabbit hole to see the chain was pulled down into the hole. So I reached way down into the dark hole, only to find a very angry and large lizard at the end. I can assure you I removed my arm muy pronto! On another occasion, there was a magpie with a very sharp beak! Once, the trap was missing, and since it had been tethered to an 18"-long steel peg hammered vertically into the ground, something rather large and/or strong had been caught and had managed to pull the peg from the ground. The trail was easy to follow, and more than a mile later, I caught up with Brer Fox, who was trailing the trap behind him. Being an enterprising lad, I managed to dispatch Foxy Loxy, and retrieve my trap without damage to myself.

From age 12–14, we lived on a place where we ran more than 200 pigs, many of which we bred. My job after school each weekday was to feed those pigs buckets of crushed grain. I also had to clean the cement water troughs. I remember one particular incident, which happened so quickly, I had no time to think that I was "going to die". The smaller sties had a small run out the back, and that was reached by a narrow opening in the wall at the back. Dad wanted to vaccinate (or do something or other) to a large sow, so he told me to bring her into the main pen from the run, and then to sit in that back opening, blocking it as an escape route. Well, the sow knew the opening was right behind me, and when she wanted "out", she put all her force behind her 200+ pounds of weight and fairly well charged pretty much through me. Fortunately, I was pushed back and to the side, rather than being wedged against the opening wall or trampled. Having me sit there certainly wasn't the smartest idea my Dad had, that's for sure!

Motor Vehicles

When I was about nine, Dad, Mom, and I took a day trip to the state capital, Adelaide. Somewhere in the suburbs, we were involved in an accident. I was sitting in the front between Dad and Mom. (This was during the days before seatbelts were installed.) I was taken by ambulance to the Adelaide Children's Hospital where I was treated for an obvious injury, a gashed mouth caused by glass from the broken windshield. When the Doctor asked me if I hurt anywhere else, I just happened to mention that my right shoulder was a bit sore. Once they got my sweater and shirt off they found a good-sized gash in my right shoulder where the rear-vision mirror stem had penetrated. So, they stitched up both wounds. [Some might say that the Dr. should have stitched my mouth a little tighter, as well!]

I started driving farm vehicles when I was about 11. However, despite a number of "near misses" I managed to keep my early driving record "clean". Interestingly, when I sat for my practical driving test (which back then, in South Australia, was done by a policeman) at age 16, the policeman told me to, "Drive like you were taught". Pretty soon, I was speeding and I cut a corner. Needless to say, he failed me, and I had to take the test again some weeks later.

When I was 18, I went home to help Dad cart wheat to the local grain elevator. However, to do that, I needed to get a truck-driving license. Now Dad had warned me that the driver's-side door latch was faulty, and that I should "Watch out!" Well, don't you know, there I was taking a Policemen out for my test drive, and as we were going around the town's large roundabout (turning circle), the driver's-side door flew open. Well, what was a lad from the bush to do, but say, "Sorry about that; the latch is a bit dicky", and put his arm out the window to hold it shut while driving with the other hand!

When I was 20, I bought a couple of cars of the same make and model, and I was trying to make one good one out of them. I parked them in the back lane and one Saturday afternoon I was working on them. I was tightening a bolt underneath the front of one when my hand slipped and I gashed my right wrist on some jagged metal. As I stood up, blood spurted 8–10 feet across the lane and I thought to myself, "Hmm, that doesn't look too good!" I used my left hand as a tourniquet and raced over to the neighbor's house. Fortunately, he was home. He owned a Mini Moke, which had open sides and roof, and we jumped in, me with a greasy old cloth trying to stem the bleeding. The first hospital we went to was for maternity patients only with no emergency facility, so we headed straight for the Royal Adelaide Hospital, some five miles further on. There the staff quickly put a clamp on things to stop the bleeding and then asked me to "please take a seat". Some hours later, after they'd dealt with all the higher priority emergencies, they got to me. And when they lifted me up onto a table, I fainted from all the blood loss. The gash was deep, and needed several layers of stiches. A second, but smaller, cut also needed a bit of attention. Of course, my arms were covered in grease from working on the car, but they only cleaned around the wounds. So when I got back home, I had to ask my housemate to help me clean up.

So there I was, right arm confined to a sling, with a brand new motorcycle sitting in the shed. So, how would I be able to ride in that condition? Of course, being young and stupid, I took my arm out of the sling and set off. Now I needed to twist my right wrist to operate the throttle, that tore the main wound open, and infection set in. So my short-term solution actually turned out to cause me to stop riding longer. Hey, it seemed like a good idea at the time!

I was rather cavalier when riding my motorcycle, and sometimes I even rode with open-toed sandals, which in hindsight can only be described as "incredibly stupid". One day, while riding on the sidewalk near my house I ran right along a chain-mesh fence, tearing up all the toes on one foot. Another time, I was tailgating a van, and when it braked suddenly, I turned the bike on its side and slid—still seated on the bike—under the back of the van. The large steel ball on the van's trailer hitch put a big dent into the bike's oil tank right next to my leg, but other than that, there was no damage.

On one visit back to Australia from the US, friend Dave, lent me a car. Well, one fine day, I was minding my own business when a guy coming towards me decided to do a U-turn, right in front of me. From a neighbor who watched the event, I borrow a large steel bar and managed to get my front fender off the wheel to make my car drivable. As for the other guy, I noticed the other side of his car was also dented, and when I asked, "How come?" he told me that was from an accident he'd had a few weeks before! By the way, 30+ years later, Dave and I are still friends.

Sports-Related Adventures

In 1968, I was in Year 11 at High school, and I played Australian Rules Football for the Loxton Tigers Colts team. We made it to the Grand Final. In the dying stages of the game, I was running in to pick the ball off the ground when a player from the opposing team ran in to kick the ball of the ground. [Nowadays, that results in a penalty and is referred to as "kicking in danger".] He missed the ball and got me right in the shin of my right leg, and down I went. After a brief lie on the ground, with the help of the trainers (the guys who run out onto the field with water, towels, and to help with minor medical problems) I managed to walk off the field. Not long after, the final siren sounded, and we'd won the game and the championship.

As was always the case, at each local sporting event involving bodily contact or other chances for injury, the non-profit St. Johns' Ambulance Brigade always provided an ambulance and several (usually volunteer) first-aid people. They looked me over, put my leg in an inflatable splint, and figured I'd need to go to the hospital to have the leg X-rayed. However, rather than go to the local hospital and possibly stay overnight in a town away from home, they agreed to drive me back to my home town, and my Dad rode in the ambulance with me. At the Loxton hospital, the X-ray showed a multiple fracture (without any sideways displacement, which was why I was able to walk off the playing field), so the doctor and nurses put a plaster cast on the lower leg leaving the front open to accommodate the swelling. Several days later, they wrapped plaster around to provide a somewhat thin cover over the front.

I stayed in hospital for a couple of nights. I was in a bed right up in the far corner in the large men's ward. Through a door nearby was a room where male patients were put if they were unlikely to survive. I believe it was referred to as the "Death Ward"! Anyway, while I was in hospital, an elderly farmer from my area was wheeled in there, and his family came to say "goodbye" along with the Lutheran minister. Charlie was on some sort of breathing device that made quite a sound. In the middle of the night, I woke up and heard that sound stop, and I figured Charlie had gone to that great farm in the sky. So I buzzed the nurse to let her know. The next morning, nurses were wheeling equipment out of that room and generally cleaning it up, but no one would say that Charlie had died; they had to keep up the morale of the other patients, I guess, lest we thought it was a result of the hospital food.

For some reason, the doctor did not put a heel on my cast, which made it difficult to walk. I'm guessing that was the point, to keep me off that foot. Of course, I had crutches, but I still put weight on the foot. Once I was out of hospital, I had checkups at the doctor's office every two weeks. Given the temporary nature of the first cast with the front closed after the swelling went down, and my general abuse of it, that cast lasted only a few weeks, and the doctor replaced it with a new one. But when I broke that—because I was driving a stick shift vehicle and getting around without my crutches to feed the pigs—the doctor put on a full cast, right up to my thigh. That made it impossible to sit on the front seat of a car, let alone drive, so it had the desired intent, to slow me down. Bugger!

I soon got into the swing of using crutches, but it made it awkward to use them and to carry a school satchel the half mile to/from the bus stop from the house, and to get around school with books and such.

To use the ambulance service, one generally became a member for an annual fee, and that entitled one to unlimited usage, as needed. As such, whenever I had to go to the doctor's office, I scheduled a pick up by an ambulance. And some days, the driver would be a bit bored, and he'd use the siren as we drove the couple of miles from the high school through the town. At the beginning, I rode in a special passenger seat. However, once I had a full cast, I could no longer fit there, so they had to open the back, lay me on the bed, and strap me in. It was quite a production when kids saw me being loaded in at the school. I know I enjoyed it. One nice day, when I was done at the doctor's office the driver said something like, "Where to Sir?" and I said, "It's such a nice afternoon, why don't I skip school for the rest of the day and have you drive me home?" He thought that was a fine idea, and as he nothing better to do, we drove the nine miles where he came into the house and had a cup of tea with Mom.

Over a number of years of playing football, I had my share of finger injuries and concussions. However, the big event that heralded the end of my career involved a knee injury. In March of 1973, at the grand age of 19, I was "all pumped up". I'd played in two consecutive premiership teams in the Under-19's competition, and I was ready to try to make the big move to a spot on the League team.

Before the regular season started in April, it was customary for clubs to have a series of pre-season trial games, mostly intra-club between the players in the League and Seconds squads. That year, there were three such games, and I remember well the first two games, in which I had opponents with years of League experience. It certainly was a shock to be making heavy body contact with seasoned veterans! In any event, I did well in those two games. In the third game, about 15–20 minutes into the first quarter, I was running for the ball and in the middle of a turn, my right knee "gave out", and I lay on the ground unable to move that leg much. Of course, the medical trainers rushed out to me, and after a few minutes, I was able to stand and hobble off the field. Back in the dressing room, a club doctor looked me over and said he thought it was a cartilage problem, a common malady for Aussie Rules players. Within a few days, a specialist has confirmed that I'd torn a cartilage, and surgery to remove it was set for a few weeks later.

I must say that this was a major setback, and, in hindsight, one from which I never really recovered. I spent the rest of that year working out, but was never confident enough to think I was ready to play again. To make matters worse, the following year, I tore the other cartilage in that knee and damaged a ligament. Subsequently, that cartilage was removed and the ligament cut and tied. I never was able to get that knee in good shape. Although I did play in later trial matches, it was clear my shot at the big time had passed. But, as they say, "Life goes on", and with football "out of that way" I could concentrate on my education and career.

Miscellaneous Events

My one-teacher country school had a large garden in which was a patch of bamboo, and from that I carry a large and permanent reminder. From time to time, we'd cut down lengths of bamboo for use in a variety of activities, leaving behind jagged stumps about three inches out of the ground. The Taplan football club oval (playing field) was nearby, and one Saturday during a game there, some other kids and I went over to the bamboo patch to "mess around". Somehow, I fell over and got one of those sharp, jagged stumps stuck in the front of my right, lower leg, right down to the bone. There was a lot of blood, yet I never did have it stitched. [Now, when I look at the large scar I am reminded of the famous quote from the movie Monty Python and the Holy Grail, "It's only a flesh wound!"

Once, I lived in a house several of whose doorways were a little shorter than I was tall. One day I turned around and charged out of the kitchen, and immediately encountered a rather stubborn door frame. Although I retained consciousness, I must say that I lay on the floor a good while after.

In 1981, I had my first Adventure Trip, eight days on and near the Amazon River in northeastern Peru. As part of my kit for the trip I bought a brand new Swiss Army knife. After a day at a swank base camp and then a long boat ride, we arrived near our quite primitive camp. As got off the boat, I spied a cluster of bamboo-like reeds, and decided to use my trusty knife to cut myself a walking stick. Seconds later, I'd managed to slice my finger quite badly, and as I looked around, I saw I was next to a villager's yard with a cow grazing nearby. Right about then, it occurred to me that I'd not had any vaccinations. (Can you say tetanus?) Fortunately, a fellow traveler was a nurse, and I had did have with me a basic First-Aid kit, so disaster was averted.

Over the years, I've been on the receiving end of some 240- and 110-volt electric shocks.

From age 16–18, I ran a quality control lab for a margarine factory. Now despite all recommendations to the contrary, I attempted to push a section of glass tubing through a hole in a rubber bung while holding said bung in the palm of my right hand. Needless to say, the tubing went right through the bung and into my hand right where the tendons for each finger come together. Forty five years later, I'm still reminded of that event each time I try to grip a screwdriver!

For my follow-on laboratory act, I attempted to pipette by mouth (instead of using a rubber pumper) absolute alcohol. Surprise! Yes, I got a mouthful, and although I got to the sink to rinse out my mouth within seconds, I can assure you that it takes far less time than that for absolute alcohol to "tickle" ones skin. As a result, if I take a sniff of any alcoholic drink, in my mind, I am transported back to that event.

Conclusion

Fortunately, the frequency of accidents has dropped significantly with age, but I have noticed that among many people Common Sense isn't so common. (If you doubt these, read about the Darwin Awards.)

After many years of having no medical problems of note, several years ago, within a span of only three months, I had emergency laser surgery for a torn and partially detached retina, surgery to remove an inflamed (but benign) cyst on my chest, and a visit to a hospital's emergency facility during the beginning of a snowstorm.

By the way, while aging is mandatory, maturing is optional!

Travel: Memories of Germany

© 2015 Rex Jaeschke. All rights reserved.

Official Name: Federal Republic of Germany (Bundesrepublik Deutschland); Capital: Berlin; Language: German; Country Code: DE; Currency: euro (EUR), formerly Deutsche Mark.

Before reunification in 1990, Germany was divided into East and West.

  • East Germany – Official Name: German Democratic Republic (Deutsche Demokratische Republik); Capital: East Berlin; Language: German; Country Code: DD; Currency: DDR mark (DDM)
  • West Germany – Official Name: Federal Republic of Germany (Bundesrepublik Deutschland); Capital: Bonn; Language: German; Country Code: DE; Currency: Deutsche Mark (DEM)

My first visit to Germany was in 1981. Since then, I've visited all 16 German States, some of them numerous times.

From June 2000:

[Diary] I spent two days with a host family in the old city of Mainz, the capital of the state of Rhineland-Pfalz. It was the home of Guttenberg, and the museum dedicated to his printing accomplishments had been renovated and recently re-opened. My hosts took me on a 40-km cycling tour along the Rhine River and surrounds.

[Diary] I met up with son Scott at Frankfurt airport, and we flew on to Berlin where we stayed with new friend Anna to begin our 2-week tour of the six former East-German States. Then it was on to Lutherstadt/Wittenburg where Martin Luther nailed his theses to the church door. It was a neat little town, but quite touristy. Then it was on to Leipzig for two days where we paid our respects to J.S. Bach at his grave in Thomaskirche.

From there, it was on to Weimar, another important city of the old German states, where friend Astrid met us. [I first met her in 1995 when I hosted her as part of a program for European teachers and librarians. She was born and raised under the East German regime.] We spent five days with her and husband Günter in their beautiful village, Tiefengruben, an unexpected gem in the former East Germany. I took advantage of the opportunity to go gliding in a sailplane one Sunday afternoon. We immersed ourselves in the culture, which included the famous German poets Goethe and Schiller.

Next, it was on to Jena, home of the world famous Jena Glass Company and Zeiss Optics, founded by the guy who invented many optical gizmos. Because of this plant, the city was a strategic target in WWII and quite a bit of the town was destroyed. We stayed with a host family right downtown. Next stop was Potsdam, capital of the Prussian empire, on the southeast outskirts of Berlin. We stayed with another host family who lived about 500 m from Sanssoucci Park where the palaces were located. Host Uwe took me on a great tour one evening showing me where the Berlin wall used to run and gave me an interesting history lesson.

Then it was on to Waren, about two hours north of Berlin, to visit Belinda, a teacher we'd hosted a few years earlier. We had a great visit with her; we all went to the Baltic Sea coast to tour a large Russian submarine floating museum and Hitler's V1 and V2 rocket research and development facility at Peenemünde. (Much of that work was "borrowed"' by the Americans and Russians at the end of WWII, and served as the basis for their respective space programs.) Interestingly, the Baltic Sea is known to the Germans as the East Sea.

We took the train back to Berlin where we stayed four nights with two hosts. We had a most enjoyable time there too and took in a lot of the sights. Queen Elizabeth II was in town to open the new British embassy, and we saw her from about 15 meters away getting into her Rolls Royce with hubby Phillip.

The primary purpose of the trip was to give Scott practice at speaking and understanding German. He had recently finished his 3rd year and was enrolled for a fourth in September. While it was hard work concentrating and trying to understand what people were saying, when people spoke more slowly, he did very well. And according to the native speakers, he did very well with his speaking too.

From a trip to Berlinin 2007:

[Diary] The very long street full of stalls ended at an intersection in the center of which stood a very tall crane that reached way up into the sky. Surrounding it was a fence, and inside, was, yes, a bungee jumping place. I watched a young couple get into harnesses and be taken up on a 4-foot square steel platform 60 meters (nearly 200 feet). After a few Hail Marys, they fell out the side of the cage, arms around each other, and bounced up and down 3 or 4 times before the heavy duty elastic cord holding them at their ankles stopped springing. The crane then lowered the whole apparatus so the jumpers, who, of course, were hanging upside down the whole time, could lie on the ground and be detached. Then the basket was lowered as well. And for that tandem jump, the happy couple paid €69.

I must say that, to quote George from an episode of "Blackadder Goes Forth", "It all looked pretty darned exciting". What the heck, thought I, and next thing you know, I was on the platform being raised sky-high in rather quick fashion. Now before you ask, "He's not going to bloody well jump, is he? No, I was not! Mind you, if I hadn't have just eaten I might have, but the thought of losing my glasses, dentures, and recently eaten bratwurst and Coke soon put that idea out of my head. For only €3, one could "go along for the ride", literally. In my case, as there were no jumpers waiting, all five of us passengers went for a look over Berlin. The cage was rather open, and there wasn't much between us and the ground, just a few bars and rubber restraints. The pilot slowly rotated the cage several times so we could have a good look around the city.

[Diary] I took my hosts to the plaza in front of the Humboldt University to see the memorial put there in 2000. It's not well known, even by the locals, and I think it's best seen at night. In the mid-1930s, the Nazis took control here and decided that certain authors wrote things that were decidedly "unacceptable" to the new government policies, so all books by those authors "had to go". They took some 20,000 books from the university library and burned them in a big fire in the plaza. So what is the memorial? It's a 4-foot square glass window set in the cobblestone plaza, which is a window on an underground room that's about 15-feet square and 8 feet deep. The four walls all have white book shelves from floor to ceiling, and all the shelves are empty. Basically, this is what a world without books would look like.

From a trip to Weimar in 2008:

[Diary] At Frankfurt Airport, I followed the signs to the Deutsche Bahn reisencentrum where an ever-so-friendly agent was happy to sell me a round-trip ticket to Weimar with an open return. And seeing it was my birthday later that week, I treated myself to First Class. [What the heck; you can't take it with you, you know. Did you ever see a hearse with a luggage rack?]

My good friend Astrid met me on the platform. As we drove to her quaint village of Tiefengruben I recognized many things and recalled events from previous visits. At their house we were met by her husband, Günter, who was his usual delightful self. We talked over tea and pastries. As Astrid taught English, we soon got into interesting and odd vocabulary, and had our dictionaries out.

[Diary] We left the village for Weimar at 11:15 am. It was a dreary cold day, but at least it was dry. We parked in an underground garage a short walk from the town center. We walked on the hill just above the Ilm River, not far from the famous poet Goethe's Garden House. For many years, the area was ruled by the Dukes of Saxe-Weimar-Eisenach, and Weimar was their seat. We strolled into the palace courtyard to see a long line of official-looking black Mercedes cars. That week, the Finance Ministers from all 16 German states were meeting there. We walked up the hill to the statue of Karl August, one of the great Dukes. Nearby was the café/restaurant Residenz where Goethe used to sit and have coffee.

Then it was on to one of the most famous libraries in Europe, named for Duchess Anna Amalia, Karl August's mother, and regent after his father died. After the great fire in 2004, there was much restoration and numerous precautions were added. The number of admission tickets issued each day was limited. We were given audio wands with English narration. Then to protect the wooden floors, we put on large felt overshoes, and waddled duck-like around the outer chamber listening to information about some artworks and a very interesting and complicated clock with calendar. Then we were ushered into the rococo room, the original library, the uppermost part of which was destroyed in the fire. It had been beautifully restored. We spent 30 minutes listening to narrations about paintings and busts.

We walked past the Hotel Elephant, the setting of one of Goethe's works. Right next to it was the town square with nicely restored town hall. Being Christmas time, the square was full of wooden huts decorated with boughs of fresh evergreen trees and lights. Some sold food and/or drink. Others sold crafts, cheese or meat. There were several carnival rides for little kids. Our reason for being there was to sample the famous Thüringen Bratwurst, the state's specialty. While Astrid applied mustard to hers, I smothered mine in ketchup. At another stall we purchased hot chocolate and glüwine.

From a 2011 trip to Berlin:

[Diary] The young receptionist at the hotel front desk was ever so happy to have me come stay and said, "Herr Jaeschke, we have taken the liberty of upgrading you to a room in the President's Club wing, at no charge to you." [Don't you just love that when that happens?] So, I put my key into the slot in the private elevator and rode to the 4th floor, and walked to the end of a corridor. My room was twice as large as the one I'd just left in Geneva, cost less than half the price, and had huge windows that opened and looked out over a garden with large trees. Although it had rained while I was in the taxi, the skies had cleared up and the sun streamed into my room. I had tea/coffee-making facilities, a small fridge, a digital TV, a spacious work desk, and—dah dah—a dressing gown monogrammed with the hotel logo. It was almost too much for the boy from the bush!

[Diary] We walked to the closest subway station and rode several lines along with one leg on a streetcar. That took us to the street-level entrance of a WWII bunker that was used as an air-raid shelter. Our guides were a couple of "typical" Berliners, a Welshman and a Greek, and we had a long and informative tour of how the shelter was used. Quite a few items were on display in cases as we moved from room to room. On my way home, there was a sign in my subway car that, when translated from German, went something like, "A mobile phone is not a loudspeaker!" Enough said.

From a trip to Dresden in 2012:

[Diary] The Johann Brahms express pulled out of Prague Station on time with light snow flurries falling. A thick cloud layer kept the sun completely blocked. Soon after, a very friendly conductor came along to check our tickets. He was fluent in Czech, English, and German, and tried some basic Japanese with that group. (In contrast, when we crossed the German border and changed conductors, it was all German and only German, as God intended!)

We followed a river for the whole of the 2:15-hour trip. In most places, there was ice near the banks, but occasionally that extended across the whole river. Although there was evidence the river was used for commercial transportation that did not seem to be happening at this time of the year. We made three stops before crossing the border into Germany and one stop after that before reaching Dresden at 10:45.

Peter, a university professor, was waiting for me on the platform, and after I bought a ticket for my ongoing trip and changed some money, we headed out in his car. Light snow was falling and the streets were quite messy. He'd booked me in to the very nice, small, cheap guesthouse near his university, so we went there to check in and dump my luggage. After that, we drove to his office where we discussed business over coffee and a light lunch. I met some of his colleagues.

Around 4 pm, we headed out to play tourist and parked downtown near the Elbe River and walked around the huge and impressive Zwinger Palace compound, parts of which were undergoing restoration. It was quite cold out, so we kept moving. As it got dark, we came across a nice restaurant in a basement that was decorated in a medieval style. Although our intent was to have coffee, we soon smelled the fresh strudel being baked, so we had to sample that along with a scoop of ice cream and another of cream! We chatted some more before venturing out in the dark and cold.

From a trip to Berlin and the countryside to the north in 2014:

[Diary] Now this was no ordinary Business Lounge; it was a First-Class lounge, don't you know! Actually, while the lounge was quite nice, they don't give much away anymore, at least not in those run by United Airlines. Sure, they had the usual champagne, wine, and liquor, soft drinks, and light food and snacks, but it is nothing exotic. In any event, I planned to eat supper on the plane.

As boarding was announced, I walked the few minutes from the lounge to the gate where I jumped right onboard with priority boarding. UAL flight 932 was a Boeing 777, whose front sections had been very nicely refurbished. I took up residence in Suite 1K, the first window seat on the starboard side. In front of me were the First Class galley, toilets, and the cockpit. Now when a passenger's area has four windows and takes up the same space as about four Economy Class seats, it's referred to as a Suite. The front cabin had only eight suites, two rows of four-across, each at a slight angle from the neighbor, and all facing forward. I had more storage space and electronic controls and plugs than I knew what to do with. I was promptly issued with a large toiletries bag and a smaller, special-edition one as a souvenir.

We pushed back from the gate a little early and the steward responsible for moi noticed I hadn't attached my seatbelt shoulder harness, so he hurried over to do that. Not having ever flown with a shoulder harness before, that was new to me. We took off into the night and went up the east coast to New York City and out over the North Atlantic. First up came the usual hot towel—that was so hot I could barely hold it in my fingertips—and that certainly opened up my facial pores. A bowl of hot, mixed nuts and a glass of ice-cold cranberry-apple drink followed.

A uniformed, ebony princess (I kid you not) hovered into view with a menu from which I proceeded to choose my evening's repast. To begin, there was a warm appetizer of cheese and piquillo pepper spring roll and coconut chicken with eggplant-mango chutney. [That was very tasty.] The soup was red rock seafood bisque. [Being allergic to shellfish, I skipped that.] The very large bowl of salad was smothered in creamy garlic dressing and could have been a meal on its own. There were four choices for the main course, beef, chicken, fish, and pasta. I chose the Fillet of Amazon Cod with a mixed vegetable ratatouille. [It was "to die for!"] Afterwards, I had a very nice cup of coffee and a large bowl of vanilla ice cream with walnuts. I declined the port wine and cheese.

Given the late time for my flight, I declined to watch any movies and settled instead on a medley of "Rhythm and Blues" audio tunes. By 11:30 pm, I'd finished my supper and two stewards appeared to enquire if "Sir would like Sir's bed prepared". I vacated my Suite while they worked. First, the electrics were used to lay the bed down flat. Then a padded mini-mattress was laid on top along with a light and a heavy blanket. Then a large and small pillow were added, and the seat belt was arranged such that I could be strapped in while sleeping. I took off my shoes and climbed in. Now I've had lay-flat beds many times in Business Class, but ordinarily they are barely 6'4" long with a point at the feet end with room for one foot only, so they really don't work for me. However, this baby was 6'6" long with a wide end, so I really could lie completely flat. I asked the stewards if they would be reading me a bedtime story or singing me to sleep, and one of them replied, "Better that I not sing!" So, at 11:45 pm, US Eastern Daylight Time, I turned out my lights and lay down. I was asleep very soon after.

[Diary] My train pulled into Altentreptow right on time at 14:44, and there waiting on the platform was Belinda and her smiling face. [I met her when she came to the US in 1998 for a month to stay with three different hosts. She was born and raised in the East.]

[Diary] We packed a picnic lunch and drinks, and headed out in the car around 10:15. We headed north on the autobahn for the large Baltic Sea island of Rügen, where Belinda had taken me during my previous visit, but this time, she had a different area in mind. There was little traffic and it was a pleasant drive. We stopped along the way for coffee and a stretch just after we'd crossed the bridge onto the island. Along the way, I saw two lots of deer grazing in the fields and a very large flock of cranes.

We had to cross a channel in a ferry, and Belinda had never done that before as a driver, but we managed without incident. Then once we got onto some back roads, it wasn't quite clear where we were, so we pressed the GPS navigator into service. The polite woman narrator soon got us to Kap Arkona, a touristy place near the sea that has several lighthouses and military bunkers. As cars cannot go to the attractions, we decided to ride the tour bus. There are some spectacular chalk cliffs in the area, but there have been so many landslides that all the paths near the top and all the steps down to the water have been closed to the public, so we couldn't see the cliffs at all.

We drove back a different route and stopped at one place where we walked a few hundred meters through a nice pine forest to the sand dunes and then down along the beach where we collected some shells. Then we had another rest stop before we set out for home around 5 pm. We were back home by 6:30. It had been a pleasant day.

[Diary] After lunch, we set out for a drive to the town of Penzlin, the home of witch burnings and such back in the "good old days". We walked by the lake and playground, and then went up into the town to the small, restored castle and museum where we sat in the sunshine talking while eating lemon cake and sipping coffee. It was an altogether pleasant interlude. Back home, we talked over a light supper.

[Diary] I headed out for Belinda's school. At 1:50, her 6th-grade English class got underway with me as the guest speaker. The students ranged from 13–15 and after a slow start, got enthusiastic. They are studying the US this year, so we made that the lesson's theme. They worked in groups to come up with questions. First, I asked them to write three or four things they thought were different or unusual about the US. Their feedback included different sports, poor people, guns and violence, national parks, and different systems of education. The second task was to have them identify three or four cities or places in the US where they'd like to visit. It went quite well. Next up, I helped the principal with his English class. There were 20-odd 7th-grade students, and we had a general question-and-answer session. I did not introduce myself; they had to ask questions to find out who I was, what I was doing there, what I did for a job, and so on.

[Diary] We drove to a small village on the coast opposite Poland where we walked around the yacht club area before settling in to the only place in town that was open, an ice cream and coffee place. From there, we drove further along the coast to a nice town that had its nicely restored harbor right in the middle of the old town. We walked around the harbor looking at some impressive private boats, and then walked the cobblestones back streets. We came across a very nice looking restaurant that had chalkboards outside advertising "exotic" fare, and one dish included 150 grams of kangaroo meat. As to where they got their supplies was a bit of a mystery.

From a trip to München in 2014:

[Diary] During the 15-minute walk to my hotel, I came across an Aldi supermarket, so stopped in to get milk and juice. I looked for something different, and there was a carton of rhabarber necktar (rhubarb juice). Well, that certainly was different. My hotel looked just like the pictures on the internet, and the friendly Greek desk clerk was ever so happy to take my credit card and get me situated. At €98 including tax, for two nights, it was a very good deal. He gave me a room on the quiet side of the hotel with a large window that opened all the way. As it was quite hot and a bit humid, I let what breeze there was come right on in. The room was small, but well designed, and still had room enough to swing a dead cat, although I had no plan to do so, yet!

[Diary] Soon, I was at the famous square, Marienplatz, with its Town Hall complete with performing figures and bells. I arrived a few minutes after the production began, and watched along with a few thousand of my close friends. I seemed to recall that it looked a lot like it did when I last saw it, 22 years ago.

From there, I took a fortuitous wrong turn and found myself at the Viktualienmarkt, a large plaza with many stalls selling food, beer, fruit, vegetables, and crafts. A maypole stood there and some sort of ceremony regarding beer and brewing was taking place. Hundreds of men milled around in traditional Bavarian costumes. Four large beer wagons each pulled by a team of four beautiful horses stood nearby.

Next stop was the Hofbräuhaus, the famous beer-drinking hall. As it was early in the day, only a few tourists were inside drinking. I took some photos of the ceiling and the metal stands where regular patrons keep their beer steins locked up. Out front, a mime was performing.

For my Kulcha fix, I dropped into the former royal palace complex, the Residenz Museum. Knowing that it would be "over the top", I bought just the basic ticket, forgoing all the extra rooms and smaller museums one could visit. It was room after room of huge wall tapestries, ornate furniture, elaborate ceilings, and gold-covered everything! Although all the contents were moved out during WWII, almost all the buildings were destroyed, so much of it had been reconstructed.

[Diary] I went out in search of just the right place for just the right meal. After 10 minutes of walking around, I found the end of the rainbow, a small snack bar near my hotel. All the young staff were friendly. I had a large bowl of creamy potato soup with large bits of sausage in it along with a liberal dose of fresh parsley. "Was it good?" you ask. Well let's just say that it was the kind of soup that your Grandma wished she could make! Even before getting the soup, I was dreaming about dessert, but, once again, I had no room, so I settled on a very nice, large mug of hot chocolate.

Conclusion

Being descended from German-speaking Lutherans from Prussia, and having being raised on various German foods, I'm always comfortable in Germany. I do like most foods there and I have a shot at the language, although I'm certain that three genders are two too many!

Bucket List: High on my list is a month starting in Copenhagen, going by ferry to the Danish island of Bornholm, and then by ferry to the German island of Rugen, then northeast Germany, and back to Copenhagen.

Signs of Life: Part 2

© 2015 Rex Jaeschke. All rights reserved.

From time to time during my travels, I come across signs that I find interesting for one reason or another. Sometimes, they contain clever writing, are humorous, or remind me of some place or event. Here are some more from a recent trip to London and Yorkshire in England.

 

The name of a laundromat.

Give it a whirl is a common English idiom that usually means "to try something," but is used here as a pun since an automatic washing machine whirls around while washing clothing." [Whirlpool Corporation is a long-time US maker of home appliances, including those for doing laundry.]

 

A bar and bistro.

So why is it called that name? Probably because Shirtless Pig was already taken!

 

A water dish for dogs.

If you look very carefully at the top of the puppies' heads, you can see a coin slot. The money donated goes to training guide dogs for the blind.

 

A clothing shop.

As soon as I saw it, I immediate thought, "Hall and Oates, before they got rid of the middle C and became rock stars".

 

A strorefront in Harrogate.

We all expect a lot of Heaven, but this list is a pretty good start.

 

A hotel from the movie Chocolat? Nice try, but no. A hotel made of chocolate? No. A hotel for lovers of chocolate? Wrong again. A store that sells chocolate? Yes.

 

A type of pedestrian crossing.

To be specific, it's a Pelican crossing having speed humps on either side of it.

Apparently, it is not related to a zebra crossing, which is a pedestrian crossing for members of The Beatles only (and, of course, zebras).

 

From a T-shirt.

Based on a quote attributed to Alice Roosevelt Longworth, the only daughter of Theodore Roosevelt, the 26th President of the United States.

 

From a T-shirt, probably not authorized by Apple.

Very clever!

 

A shop for knitted garments.

My guess is the name is meant to rhyme with the popular idiom sitting pretty, meaning being more than okay.

Note the child's bicycle out front that has been completely knitted over.

 

A laundry and dry cleaners.

 

A tea and cake shop .

What is widely known is Marie Antionette's saying, "Let them [the peasants] eat cake!" However, what is not so well known is that after a pause, she added, "With ice cream, perhaps?"

 

This pub seemed a bit out of place in Yorkshire.

 

The famous saying when using the London Underground (Tube).

 

Nothing more to add really!

 

It is sooo hard to get good help these days! Why, I've had three different butlers myself since the start of the year!

 

 

What is Normal - Part 9: An American in Australia

© 2015 Rex Jaeschke. All rights reserved.

[I started making notes for this essay one week into a 7-week trip to my country of birth, Australia. It had been more than eight years since my previous visit, and I was quickly reminded of many differences between the US and Australia. I decided to make a list of some of them, and to share that with you here, along with some commentary.]

In my June 2010 essay, "Australia and the U.S. - A Contrast", I looked at Politics and Government, Law Enforcement, Taxation, and Education. This time, I'll cover a number of other areas, especially those I noticed during my recent trip.

To put my comments in context, I spent the first 16 years of my life in the Riverland area of South Australia (SA), which has a Mediterranean climate and irrigated fruit growing and dryland farming. I then lived for 10 years in the state capital, Adelaide, which is between a range of 3,000-foot mountains and the coast. In the US, I lived a year in the Midwest city of Chicago followed by 35 more in the greater Washington DC area inland from the Mid-Atlantic coast.

Although I lived 25 years Down Under, I spent almost all of that time in one state, and then only in one country area and the state capital. As such, some general claims I make or seem to imply may well not be true in other Australian areas or states. Alternatively, they might have changed since I left 36 years ago.

Transportation

Probably the first thing one notices is that everyone is driving on the other side of the road (and the car). Fortunately, the clutch, brake, and accelerator pedals are in the same order. Each time I went out with one or more passengers, I asked them to remind me to "keep to the left". This is quite easy when one is following other traffic, but when left alone, one can easily revert to one's "natural" side. One challenge I've always faced is to keep to the correct side when turning left into a divided highway. Then each time I left someone's house late at night, as I was saying "Goodbye", I inevitably unlocked the front passenger-side door, but soon noticed there was no steering wheel there, so went around to the other side.

One day, as I was driving up a steep hill, in the left lane, I found myself thinking, "What if some American or European tourist is coming up the other size in the wrong (that is, right-hand) lane?" I thought about that at length. At some point, you just have to trust that other people are playing by the rules.

The first few days in SA, each time I wanted to turn, the windshield wipers came on instead of the indicators. Don't you just hate that when that happens! (To be fair, that's not related to left- or right-hand driving; rather, cars built in different countries simply equip them that way.)

When I got my driving license, the written and practical tests were done by the local police (which are all state police). Now, like the US, these tests are handled by the state department of motor vehicles.

In SA, a driver can get a Learner's Permit at age 16 by passing a written test, and must have an L-Plate on their car to alert other drivers. Once they pass the practical test, they must have a Provisional Driver P-Plate for two years.

In SA, the open-road speed limit is 110 kph (68 mph), which given the general condition of the roads, I think is way too fast. To the chagrin of many drivers following me, for the most part, I stayed around 60 mph. The road conditions are not helped by the discontinuation of most freight rail-lines, resulting in the hauling of cargo by road, in increasingly bigger and heavier trucks, with many pulling trailers.

Unlike in the US, I don't think I saw any yellow lines on the highways, only white, and there seemed to be two different ways of indicating one was not to overtake another vehicle on a given section of roadway.

As Australia is representative of the western marketplace, it has long been a test ground for products from Asia, including motor vehicles. As a result, one can see models there that are not available in other countries. (Japan and Australia both drive on the left.)

A minor detail is the color of turning-indicator lights (AU: blinkers), as Australia requires them to be yellow. This seems not to be a requirement in the US.

Australia currently produces its own models of automobiles, via General Motors Holden (GMH) and Ford Australia. (For more than 35 years, Chrysler Australia did likewise.) One of the most distinctive styles is that of a utility vehicle, or ute, for short. Utes are really sedans with the back half replaced by a low cargo-carrying area, but they don't look at all like a typically US pick-up truck. In recent years, 4-door versions have also been built.

Prior to airline deregulation some 30 years ago, there were two domestic airlines, TAA and Ansett, the first being government-run, the second, private. They flew to the same places, at about the same times, for the same prices. With deregulation, there is more competition, but few people fly to small cities or towns. Qantas, the national airline, is now the biggest domestic carrier as well.

Weights and Measures

In 1972, Australia changed from the Imperial System of weights and measures to Metric. At the time, I worked in a chemistry lab, so was quite familiar with the Metric system, but only for relatively small measurements. (See my March 2013 essay, "What is Normal - Part 6: Weights and Measures".)

For someone used to the Imperial System (or the US version thereof), this involves new challenges. Weights are now in kilograms (or kilos, for short) rather than pounds, and tonnes rather than tons. Of course, feet, inches, yards, and miles all become meters and kilometers, and pints, quarts, and gallons become liters.

Now while one can easily make the transition from miles per hour to kilometers per hour, fuel consumption is another matter. Specifically, miles per gallon goes to liters per 100 km, which has the two measures swapped over. And instead of inflating the tires to some number of pounds per square inch, one has to deal with kilopascals per square cm.

Moving from the Fahrenheit temperature scale to Celsius is another challenge. Back when I was a lad, everyone knew a 100-degree F day was "bloody hot", but now they insist on its being 38 degrees C. Of course, cooking in an oven requires being able to translate between the systems.

And what's all this hectare and square-meter business? Acres used to be good enough!

Paper sizes are different, as are hole-punch positions, and envelope sizes.

When the Metric System was introduced in Australia, I distinctly remember companies having a 10-year transition period before they had to convert, and after which it was illegal to import products using non-Metric measurements. This seemed reasonable, in order that the populace "get with the program" as soon as possible. However, during my recent trips, more than 40 years after the conversion, I was quite surprised to find real estate ads in many newspapers using acres, and birth announcements showing baby weights in pounds and lengths in inches.

Food and Drink

Growing up in SA, the early meal of the day was breakfast. Around midday, we ate dinner, and in the evening, we ate tea. However, if we ate out in a nice restaurant, the evening meal became dinner. Snacks mid-morning and mid-afternoon were called morning tea and afternoon tea, respectively, while a late-night snack was supper. In the US, we have breakfast, lunch, and supper, but an evening meal at a nice restaurant is dinner.

While a major US fast food is a hamburger or hot dog, Down Under, it's a meat pie, pasty, or sausage roll, with or without tomato sauce. In some areas, Cornish pasties are available, and in the past 20+ years, pies and pasties have been offered in various, and increasingly exotic flavors, including with kangaroo meat.

US pastries are often heavy on chocolate, icing, and sugar while Australia has many different kinds of buns, in the English tradition. (Can you say buttered finger bun?) Sweet muffins are now appearing in Australia.

In SA, a very popular drink is iced coffee, made entirely with milk rather than water, as in the US.

While Americans eat lots of English muffin, a sort-of similar thing Down Under is a crumpet.

In SA, custard is very popular, and can be bought ready-made in cartons. Apricots are also popular. Butcher shops are everywhere and lamb is readily available. One can get a fried egg on a hamburger, and beetroot on a steak sandwich. Fish and chip shops are common, and pineapple on pizza is not considered weird. Various US ethnic things like bagels, rye bread, and Mexican food aren't generally available. Culturally, people don't eat out for breakfast, and they eat with both knife and fork rather than cutting food, putting the knife down and eating with the fork after changing hands. A very popular source of food is a "counter" meal served at a pub or sporting club. The American idea of taking uneaten food home in a "doggy bag/doggy basket" is catching on. The term diner (as a cheap place to eat) isn't used.

A very popular Aussie alcoholic drink is bitters, brown lime, and lemonade (the latter being lemon squash).

Housing

In general, in SA houses are smaller, and sometimes considerably so. Second stories are rare, and basements are non-existent. Many have garages while carports are popular. Older homes do not have a dining room separate from an in-kitchen eating area, or any en-suite bathrooms. There are not separate formal lounge and family rooms. The one toilet is often in a room by itself, not in the bathroom. So the American phrase going to the bathroom seems odd to many Aussies. Most houses I've visited have separate hot and cold-water taps at each sink, with good old-fashioned plugs. There are nowhere near as many electric outlets as in the US, and there often is only one wall jack for a landline phone. Although it can get quite hot, in the southern half of the country the humidity used not to be so high. However, with world weather patterns changing, ducted heating and air conditioning is more popular in new houses. Many older houses (and even some newer ones) have galvanized-iron roofs, and now, outside walls as well. A far bigger percentage of houses are made of brick, in which case, they can support a roof of terra cotta tiles.

Culture

To be sure, in SA, many working couples have laborsaving devices, but they are not as committed to them as in the US. However, I did see more dishwashers this last trip. Except in the few big cities, hardly anyone lives in a multistoried building, and most people live in single-family houses, with a yard, and a rotary clothesline on which to hang their laundry.

Aussies pretty much are a big middleclass bunch. Yes, there are a few very wealthy ones, but it's impossible to be poor. There really are so many social programs, and medical care is available to all.

Aussies still have greengrocers, butcher shops, and newsagents.

Regarding the worldwide coffee craze, while Aussies do drink coffee, many love their hot tea, even in the hottest of weather when Aussies actually consider it a better thirst quencher than a cold drink. Regarding coffee, before the instant variety came to Australia, we made a cup by putting a teaspoonful of Bickford's coffee and chicory essence from a large, tall, black bottle, into a cup and pouring boiling water on that. Until I first ate at a fine restaurant, I'd never experienced percolated coffee. By the way, most hotel and motels rooms have an electric kettle and tea/coffee-making facilities, as God intended!

The principle religion Down Under is sport, pretty much of any kind. If you live in/near Sydney or Brisbane, football means rugby. For the other states, it's Australian Rules football. Nationally, there's soccer. These are winter sports, along with netball. The primary summer sports are cricket, tennis, and watersports. Hockey means field hockey while ice hockey means, well hockey on ice (which given the geographical position of the country, not surprisingly, is not well known). Basketball is a huge sport and baseball is becoming more popular. Lawn bowls used to be a retired-persons game, but now more and more young people play.

Aussies have a long history of gambling, and there's an old saying that two Aussies would bet on a fly crawling up a wall. When I lived in SA, the state government ran a statewide agency called the Totalizer Agency Board (TAB), which had outlets in pretty much every town over a few thousand residents. These provided places to bet on horse and greyhound racing, and later on English and European football. They still exist, and now they cover other sports as well. Most states have at least one casino. Probably one of the worst impacts on the pocket of the blue-collar worker was the wholesale introduction of poker machines some 20 years ago. They proved to be just another way for working-class people to throw away their money. Just about every pub and small sporting club has them, and often the proceeds from them are used to underwrite the cheap meals served.

Miscellaneous Stuff

In Australia, the electricity supply is 240 volts, 50Hz; power outlets have switches; light switches go down for on and up for off; and light bulbs fit into their sockets using a bayonet connector. In the US, the electricity supply is 110 volts, 60Hz, power outlets do not have switches, light switches go down for off and up for on, and light bulbs screw into their sockets.

When television came to Australia (much later than in the US), a channel 5A existed on all channel dials. [The channel based near my hometown has that designation.] For color TV, Australia chose the PAL analog system versus the US's NTSC. With digital TV, the same standards are used; however, the DVD region codes for the two countries are different, so one cannot play pre-recorded videos on the other's machines.

The Australian dollar (AUD) has 100 cents, and coins come in 5, 10, 20, 50 cents, and $1 and $2. (The 1-cent and 2-cent coins have been discontinued.) The US still has a 1-cent coin, but no 2-cent, and has a 25-cent (quarter) instead of a 20. It has both the traditional $1 banknote and a more recently introduced $1 coin; as such, the coin versions are far less used. Each Aussie banknote has a different color and increasing denominations get longer and wider. US banknotes are predominately green, but other colors are being added with new editions.

Language, Spelling, and Vocabulary

George Bernard Shaw wrote, "England and America are two countries separated by a common language." And given that Aussie English is rooted (but not identical) to British English, the same applies between Australia and the US.

Back in 1979, as I was preparing to move to the US from Australia, my travel agent gave me an Aussie-English-to-American-English "translation" guide consisting of more than 500 words. Here are some of them, the Aussie term first, followed by the equivalent American term in parentheses:

  • footpath (sidewalk)
  • serviette (napkin)
  • railway sleepers (railway ties)
  • clothes pegs (clothes pins)
  • kindergarten (preschool)
  • cool drink (soda, pop)
  • lemonade (Sprite, 7-Up)
  • budgerigar (parakeet)
  • tap (faucet)
  • petrol (gasoline)
  • diesel or distillate (diesel)
  • gas (LPG – natural gas)
  • windscreen (windshield)
  • car boot (hood)
  • mudguard (fender)
  • blinker (indicator)
  • manual gears (stick shift)
  • bum bag (fanny pack)
  • sultana (golden raisin)
  • anticlockwise (counterclockwise)
  • chemist shop (pharmacy); however, the American version is taking over
  • peanut paste (peanut butter)
  • tomato sauce (ketchup); however, the American version is taking over
  • icing (frosting)
  • scone (biscuit) (Aussies pronounce it as 'scon')
  • sweet biscuit (cookie)
  • savory biscuit (cracker)
  • jelly (gelatin, or the brand name Jello)
  • jam (jam, jelly, conserve)
  • beetroot (beets)
  • spirits (liquor)
  • pub (bar)
  • power point (electrical outlet)
  • xx-dollar note (xx-dollar bill)

There are numerous differences in spelling and pronunciation. For example,

  • litre (litre) and metre (meter)
  • colour (color), labour (labor), flavour (flavor), and so on
  • aluminium (aluminum)
  • tyre (tire)
  • newspaper [I hear Aussies (and Brits) say the n like the Spanish ñ while the Americans say it simply as n.]
  • Double letters and digits such as "oo" and 33 are spoken "double-o" and double-3 (oo and 33)

Conclusion

As I travel, I often think that everything is the same yet, on closer inspection, everything is different, and that's certainly the case with the US and Australia. As I finish writing this, it's 7 weeks after my return from Down Under, but now I'm in England for 3 weeks. Not surprisingly, there are lots of similarities and differences here as well, and to some extent, I'm using a whole other vocabulary. It's a whole other normal!

Travel: Memories of Austria

© 2015 Rex Jaeschke. All rights reserved.

Official Name: Republic of Austria; Capital: Vienna (Wien); Language: German; Country Code: AT; Currency: euro (EUR) [formerly schilling (ATS)]

From a trip to Vienna in 2011:

[Diary] Helmut and Annelies had very generously offered to host me for all four days of my stay even though the usual arrangement with the hosting group Servas International is for two. We drove out of the city to their country cottage, a 20-year-old large log cabin. It was a little bit of Heaven! We unloaded the groceries and did a few jobs in the garden before retiring to the terrace in the sun for Chinese tea followed by a large mid-afternoon meal. As the sun moved, so did we, taking the table with us. We finished off with a large bowl of wonderful strawberries.

[Diary] I slept like a baby, for 13 hours solid; YES! I woke at 10 am actually feeling rested. My hosts were sitting at the eating area in the garden out in the sun finishing their brunch. It was another glorious day. As I was a long time in my room, they had been discussing how one might handle the situation when a guest dies in their bed. We joked about that, and I suggested that they could keep my luggage and, after funeral expenses were covered, they could have the contents of my wallet.

After eating, Helmut led me on a hike. Very quickly, the trail got quite steep and narrow; however, it was well maintained. The area has some spectacular limestone peaks and is well known for climbing. I counted about 30 men and women either on ropes going up, or waiting to ascend the near vertical sides. Many of them were from the Czech Republic. I stopped regularly to put my heart back in my chest. At the top, we had a clear view over a large valley containing several villages and one large town with a big church. The trees were starting to bud and new leaves were only a few weeks away. We came to a mountain rescue center next door to which was a 2-story restaurant and hostel. The place was crowded with climbers and hikers filling all the outside tables and consuming vast quantities of pasta, meat, sauerkraut, and beer. From there on, the path was a wide and gentle way down to our village.

[Diary] (Back in Vienna) Just before noon, friend Peter arrived to be my tour guide for the afternoon. We started our cultural tour at Schloss Schönbrunn, the former summer residence of the Habsburgs. We bought a ticket to tour 40 rooms, and I can say with great certainty that they were "over the top". I'm not a fan of gold and there was gilt everywhere. An audio guide was included, so we could hear all the details of daily life. Napoleon took over the place when he occupied the city, and I went into the room he had used as a bedroom. There are extensive gardens and some flowers were just starting to bloom. I was most impressed with the indoor gardens at the Palm House, a huge steel and glass structure filled with trees, shrubs, and flowers. Surprisingly, many of them were native to Australia.

Next up was the Naschmarkt, a longtime outdoor area with covered stalls selling all kinds of flowers, fruit, vegetables, meat, spices, and such with restaurants every 50 paces. We dropped in to Karlskirche as well as a Maltese Church, which appeared to be a result of the exploits of the Knights of Malta.

We finished up at the Hofburg Palace, a sprawling complex of buildings and grounds. The Vienna Boys Choir performs there, the Lipizzaner horses perform there, the President and Chancellor have their offices there, and there are numerous museums and the national library. The statues and carvings on the outside walls and gates surely are impressive.

[Diary] Peter and I headed out for another day of "playing tourist". It was very sunny and although a few raindrops fell later on, it was pleasant out. We started out at the Hundertwasserhaus, "a fairytale-like building with onion spires, green roof [as in trees and gardens growing on it], and a multicolored façade is one of the city's most frequently visited landmarks. It was designed by flamboyant Austrian artist Fruedensreich Hundertwasser as a playful take on usually dull council (social) housing. Today almost 200 people live in 50 apartments." Apparently, nothing is square and the floors undulate, and bright colors and patterns are used in paint and tile. A separate museum showcases samples of the main building as well as art and information about that place and others designed elsewhere by the same artist. I bought a large book of photos of the artist's work.

Next, we rode several trams to Belvedere. From the tourist brochure, "Prince Eugen of Savoy, the most celebrated of the Habsburg generals due to his defeat of the Turks in 1683, commissioned the two Belvedere Palaces (Upper and Lower) with the money he received as a reward for his victories during the Spanish Succession." They were built in Baroque style and have extensive gardens. We toured the upper palace, which has three floors of paintings with many works by Gustav Klimt including the famous "The Kiss". Among the notable painters, there was one van Gogh, one Munch, and several Monets and Manets. I liked one large painting that was huge and depicted a scene in the amusement park nearby, and two of trees and nature that looked remarkably like photographs. On May 15, 1955, Austria declared its neutrality at a meeting of the four powers that had occupied it after WWII. This ceremony took place in the Marble Hall and the balcony outside. Present and signing the documents were John Foster Dulles (US, for whom my home airport, Dulles, is named), Harold Macmillan (UK), Vyacheslav Molotov (USSR), and Antoine Pinay (France).

Our final activity was a visit to the world-famous Spanish Riding School. The horses were originally brought from Spain, hence the name. And then later, many came from a stud in Lipica (spelled "Lipizza" in Italian), in modern-day Slovenia, hence the name Lipizzaner. The guided tour took an hour and we started in the winter in-door arena. It can seat 1,000 with most standing, and the public can buy tickets to watch training each weekday. On weekends, the horses perform. The horses arrive at the age of four and are trained for eight years. They perform until age 25 or so, and go back to the stud to retire. There are 72 horses and 18 riders currently in residence. There are two chief riders, 10 riders, three assistant riders, and three novices. It's a tough job to get a spot. Applicants must have EU citizenship, be between 17 and 20 years old, and have a certain size and height. Since 2008, women can also apply. We looked over the outdoor arena, which is surrounded by a covered automatic horse-walking machine that can "push" horses around at various speeds. We went to the stables to see the horses and to learn how they are named. Only stallions are chosen. Those allergic to hay (surprise!) have wood shavings as bedding. Their feed is determined by their rider and vet and depends on their age and the type of training they are undergoing. Lastly, we visited the tack room. Black training saddles are used for everyday work and white ones are used for performances. They are custom-made for each horse and no saddle blankets are used. A rider has four reins, three in the left hand and one in the right, and they control the horse by finger movements rather than the whole hand.

From a trip to Salzburg and surrounds in 2014:

[Diary] I found the platform for my train from Prague to Salzburg. The good news was that the First-Class carriage was at the very end of the train, nearest to me. There were nine 6-person compartments, and even though it was a Saturday, I'd paid to reserve a seat. However, I'd forgotten to ask for a forward-looking seat, and got one looking backward, against the window. By the time we pulled out the station at 09:36, three whole minutes late, two other people had seen fit to sit in MY compartment.

We went due south through an industrial area and numerous high-rise apartment buildings. Then the countryside opened up and it was all rolling hills of green cereal crops, some bales of hay, and green fields topped with white flowers. In the distance, I saw a couple of yellow flowering fields of rapeseed. Mid-morning, I had an unnecessary snack, and as I was eating my Lay's potato chips (a very popular brand in the US) I started reading the back of the packet. The bag was packed in Poland, and the labeling on the back came in a multitude of languages: Estonian, Latvian, Lithuanian, Czech, Slovakian, Hungarian, Polish, and English.

Jetlag was still with me after a whole week, but I managed to stay awake and read several newspapers and do some puzzles. However, around noon, I stretched out across three seats and put my head back on my pillow. I thought I didn't sleep much, as the PA system keep on making announcements in Czech, English, and German. However, when I finally decided to sit up, two hours had passed, and I'd crossed into Austria. At that point, the announcements came in English then German, as God intended! I had only 20 minutes to go to Linz.

We were several minutes late arriving and I had only eight minutes to change trains and platforms. My new platform was only two away, and as I topped the escalator to the platform, the end of the train, and my First-Class carriage, was right there, which saved me a walk down the long InterCity train that had started in Vienna and was going to Salzburg.

It was a sunny day out, much better than when I'd started. The ride to Salzburg took an hour and 20 minutes, and was uneventful. Once again, I sat backwards. I'd last passed through the Salzburg area 18 years ago. The train station looked quite new, and was very big and busy. I took a while to get my bearings, and finally found the tourist office where I got a city map and a 24-hour bus pass. Outside, I had only a 2-minute wait until the Number 6 bus arrived, and we headed south along the river, then over a bridge into the old town, then back again. I followed my progress on the map and my bus stop came just where it was supposed to be. I crossed the street to a block of apartments and pressed an intercom button, and the front door was unlocked. A 68-year man and his very friendly dog were there to meet me.

I'd known about the accommodation website www.airBnB.com for some years, but didn't use it until August 2013 when I stayed three nights in Amsterdam. That first experience was so good I thought I'd try it again. Anyone with a room to rent short-term, and who can comply with the rules, can join. I found this place on-line within minutes and paid about US$60/night. The resident was at a wedding reception, but had arranged for his father to meet me. He got me oriented and then we sat and talked for 30 minutes, which was just an excuse for me to pat his dog, which was so smart it understood German! The apartment was quite large, had large windows over a small park, and a fresh breeze wafted through. After I unpacked a few things, I set up my computer, was connected to the outside world, and started working on this diary.

I snacked on my emergency rations and then went online to see if there was a supermarket in the area. There was, and at 19:00, I went out to get some essentials at a Sparmarkt. I found some herb-flavored cream cheese, ham, slices of dark bread full of grains and nuts, some candy, two liters of whole milk, a liter of juice, and a ham and cheese croissant. The young woman cashier was pleasant and patient with my German. Back home, I checked the milk to make sure it wasn't bad. The testing took several glasses.

[Diary] Around 13:30, I ventured out to meet the day. It was quite warm with a gentle breeze. I walked to the bus stop and several minutes later a Number 6 arrived. I rode it three stops and then walked to the river to cross on a large pedestrian bridge. Both railings were chain-wire mesh and they were covered with padlocks with lovers' names attached, something I'd seen in a number of countries. On the other side of the river, there was a very long row of stalls along a river walk. They were selling all sorts of crafts, clothing, and food. I soon heard a distinctive noise, an Australian Aboriginal didgeridoo. A man was playing it along with a percussion instrument. Further down, there was a booth selling jewelry made from Australian opals.

From there I wandered the back streets and alleys of the Old Town, sticking my head in churches, courtyards, and shops as the mood took me. In an attempt to improve my Kulcha-quotient, I paid €7 to go into the Salzburg Museum. It contained a mixture of art, ceramics, photos, and film, and covered history, architecture, and World War I when this area was part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire.

I stopped to take the occasional photo and to people-watch. It was a gorgeous day to be out, and every hundred meters there was another outdoor eating-place. I went back across the river and headed home through a park containing some abstract sculptures. I'd only been out three hours, but that was enough. Besides, I had to leave something for the next visit!

At 18:00, I headed out to a restaurant across the street whose menu I'd perused the night before. A pleasant young waitress seated me in the sunshine in the Biergarten, and after my attempts at German, she asked if I'd like an English menu. I took both, and switched to the English one whenever I needed something translated. I ordered the chicken cordon blue, which came with parsley-covered boiled potatoes and some berry sauce along with a mixed salad. I washed that down with a glass of apricot juice. It was a lot of food, so I took my time. A big-screen TV was showing a World Cup soccer game. Once again, I had no room for apple strudel; bugger! I read some chapters of my novel and worked on this diary. Diners came and went, and a small boy at the next table worked on filling his pockets with gravel.

[Diary] After five hours of solid sleep, I was wide-awake. Unfortunately, I started thinking about a number of things, including some new topics for essays on my monthly blog. I got so much good information in my head that I got up and started typing on my laptop. I went back to bed at 06:30. The good news was that I slept soundly until 12:15. After a small breakfast complete with a custom mug of Milch-café, I headed out to play tourist. It was quite hot out, so I kept in the shade as much as possible, which included a walk through a nice park. In 15 minutes, I was across the river in the old town and winding my way through back alleys in search of the funicular railway that went up to the famous castle of the Salzburg Prince-Bishops.

I paid €11:50 for a return ticket, admission to the castle, an audio tour, and several museum admissions. Although I saved some energy and perspiration by riding the tram up, once inside the castle and its grounds, I still had many stairs some of which were quite steep for an old man. I—and most tourists with whom I spoke—gave the organizers a failing grade for the lack of signs, especially for the tours included in our ticket. The view from the top was very nice. You could see so far, it took two people to look! Two hours there was more than enough, and as I rode the tram back down, I chatted with a Canadian couple. They were travelling with a group on a boat down the river. More than 100 Aussies were on their boat, and as I walked around the castle and town, I heard their accents.

I walked along the river a good ways in the shade before crossing over and entering the grounds of the summer castle and its Mirabell Gardens. Flowers of all shapes and sizes abounded along with manicured lawns and large fountains with statutes. From there it was quite a hike back home. Once I got my shoes off and splashed some cold water on my face, I was ready for a large glass of ice-cold milk. It sure tasted good and represented one of life's simple pleasures.

Around 19:00, I went out to eat, although I didn't feel too hungry. The outdoor beer garden was closed for some unknown reason, so I sat indoors on a very hard seat worthy of being a church pew! I ordered the veal schnitzel and declined the accompanying salad. When the meal came, it was enormous; certainly, enough for two, and, unfortunately, a salad came too. It sure is hard to get good help these days! I ate half and packed the rest for 'Ron ( 'later on'; that is). I read a few chapters of my novel, but so many diners arrived with some smoking that they drove me out.

[Diary] It was Travel Day, although I didn't have far to go. I'd set my alarm for 09:30 and after a night of broken sleep, I was none too eager to get up. However, after a hot bath, things improved, and after my breakfast, it was even better. I packed my gear and got my final email fix just as my host got back from grocery shopping. We chatted a while and then I departed soon after 11:30. It had rained heavily that morning, but was clearing up as I walked to the bus stop. After only a few minutes, my bus arrived and I managed to convince the driver to sell me a ticket to the main train station. All of the city buses ran on electricity, so there were many overhead wires. It took 20 minutes to get to the station, and then I had to find out where the 120 bus to Mattsee departed from. I finally asked a bus-company employee who pointed me in the right direction. However, my bus had just left, and I had a 30-minute wait for the next one.

The bus trip was comfortable and pleasant with quite a few passengers. We had many stops and passed through a number of large towns and small villages on the 25-km drive. The end of the line was near my destination, Mattsee, the town in which my friend, Renate, lived. She had given me directions to her house, and as I got off at the town shop, I asked another passenger to confirm, and she sent me in the wrong direction. However, a young woman at a restaurant came to my rescue and gave me a map of the town. Soon after, I was knocking on Renate's front door.

We had met in the summer of 1989 when she was our second guest through the American Host Program. European teachers and librarians who were fluent in English came to the US for 30 days where they stayed with each host family for 10 or 15 days to experience American culture first-hand. My family and I visited her and her mother in Mattsee in 1992, and my brother-in-law, Colin, and I visited again in 1996. However, although we'd kept in phone and email contact over the years, we hadn't seen each other in 18 years. When I saw her, she looked the same to me, and she was enjoying her retirement from teaching.

The weather improved as the day wore on, and she proposed we head up into the surrounding mountains for a nice walk through the fields and forests. It certainly was a little piece of Paradise. At the top, we climbed a wooden tower and looked out over the valley. We came home by a different path that brought us along the lake and yacht club where Renate keeps her boat and teaches children how to sail. We caught up with a lot of each other's news along the way, and so we didn't notice we were exercising. We walked at least six kilometers.

We had some pastries and drinks for a late afternoon tea after which Renate had an engagement for 90 minutes. I pulled up a chair in the sun in the garden, and finished my novel. Having less than my sleep quota the night before, that caught up with me and I fell asleep sitting up in the chair. We sat down to a late supper around 20:15 when we had hausgemacht (homemade) soup with semolina dumpling-like thingies. By then it was 22:00 and I was thinking about sleep. Lights out soon after.

[Diary] I woke once during the night, but got back to sleep soon after. However, when I woke at 08:00, I didn't feel much rested. A bath got my circulation going and at 09:00, we sat down to breakfast outdoors. The sun was streaming down and all was right in this little corner of the world. I savored fresh bread rolls with ham and hausgemacht orange marmalade.

By 10:00, we were packed and on the road to our next adventure, hiking at the top of a mountain. After a short drive, we reached the parking lot of the cable car that would take us to the top of Der Untersberg. We had 30 minutes to wait for the next car, so we sat outdoors in the sunshine drinking milk coffee, which was served with a piece of chocolate; very civilized! As the car ascended the steep slope, the clouds came in and visibility was quite limited when we got off. We walked over the rocks and some loose gravel, and the wind came up a bit. Occasionally, the clouds cleared and we could see way down to the valley below. We went all the way to the top of the mountain, but couldn't see through the fog. On the walk back at the cable car station, it rained lightly, but got heavier as we went inside. We looked at the restaurant menu to see if they had any hausgemacht soup, which they did. Renate had the Goulashsuppe and I had the Würstsuppe with noodles. Mine was "just like Grandma used to make", and, with some bread, it was just the right amount of food. By the time we got back to our car, the sun was out; however, light rain continued to fall. The locals call this "liquid sun".

By the time we got back home it was 16:30, time for afternoon tea. We consumed some pastries whose used-by date was 15 minutes later, and Renate made me her style of Milch-café. Afterwards, we walked a short way to a new car museum created by the grandson of the creator of the Porsche car brand. All the old cars are registered and are driven on a regular basis. Some are available to rent. Back home, I set up my laptop in Renate's office and started working on this diary while listening to an album by Andrea Bocelli.

We had a late supper of Wurst with salad and talked until late. Lights out by 22:30.

[Diary] By 09:00, we were heading out of town for a 75-minute drive to the south. We spent a long day in the National Park along the Groβglockner Hochalpenstrasse some 7,000 feet up. We drove the 45 kms of the winding mountain road. There was quite a bit of traffic especially motorcycles. Entrance to the park for the day cost €43! The views were spectacular. The deep glacial valleys were braced on each side by green pastures and mountainsides right up to the snow line. There was quite a bit of snow left from the winter, and it's possible to have snowfall in the summer as well. We parked at the end of the road where we met Renate's friend, Johanna. The remnants of a glacier were below us. We visited some exhibitions and then had a nice lunch. We'd planned a hike there, but that route would not open until July 1, so we drove a short way back to a small restaurant set down a steep slope from a parking area. We hiked a kilometer or so down and across a lush, green field among some grazing cows, where we jumped across a raging stream that came down from a waterfall further up the mountain. A marmot (US: groundhog) was guarding his burrow nearby and watched as we passed. Back at the restaurant, I had a bowl of soup while the ladies had apple strudel and coffee. It was all very civilized.

[Diary] It was another glorious day outside, so we put on our walking shoes and headed out through the neighborhood and to the lake where we toured the very nice swimming club and playground. (Rumor has it that Big Kid Rex was seen riding one of the kiddie rocking horses.) From there, we dropped by the boat-rental place, and then on to the sailing club, of which Renate is a member. It's a very nice facility, and Renate proudly showed off her refurbished sailboat, which is made of brightly varnished mahogany. We walked into town and sat in the sun while sipping coffee and chatting. It was all hard work, but someone has to do it, right?

At noon, after we took photos of each other in the garden by Renate's house, we said our "Goodbyes". Now friends help you move, good friends help you move bodies, and great friends pick up with you where they left off, even if that was 18 years ago. Renate is a great friend!

It was another Travel Day; another city in another country. I walked the few hundred yards to the bus stop. Three young women were already waiting. Compared to them, I looked boringly normal. The first was dressed as a Goth and was busy with her music player. The second was wearing a top that she had thrown on as she left the house, and she nearly missed! Inside one upper arm, she had a large amount of tattooed text. The third was also dressed completely in black, and she had a large tattoo on her shoulder. Half her head was shaved, and the other half had long hair that was dyed bright red. She had a small ring through her bottom lip. I couldn't decide which of the three I should take home to meet Mother!

The bus arrived at least 10 minutes late, and quite a few students boarded, and by the time I got on, it was quite full. I sat down next to a girl, who immediately decided I fit the profile of suspicious-old-men-her-mother-had-warned-her-about, and she escaped to safety on the other side of the aisle. Several stops later, a large group of students boarded with lots of luggage; apparently, they were headed out on a trip.

When I walked into the Salzburg Hauptbahnhof, the train to München was just leaving. Don't you just hate that when that happens? I went to buy a ticket, but found it a bit confusing. There was a long line at the ticket for the Austrian train company and a very short one for Germany's Deutsche Bahn. After I asked for help, I was directed to the DB line where I chatted with two American women. I bought a First-Class ticket with a reserved seat, and was directed to the First-Class Lounge next door. There I had a drink and some nuts, and chatted with a family from Oregon.

At 12:50, I headed for Gleis (Track) 1 where my train awaited, and a conductor pointed me towards Wagen 262, Sitzplatz 76. Well don't you know there was a couple in MY compartment and the man was sitting in MY seat! We greeted each other in German and after a few sentences, I knew they weren't native speakers, so I asked where they were from. Melbourne, bloody Australia. Fair suck of the sauce bottle, Cyril! Which, roughly translated from Orstralyan means, Strewth! or Stone the Flamin' Crows, Bruce! (Is that clear? Probably not. Okay, in plain English, Unbelievable!)

As we bounced along in the glorious sunshine through lush, green pastures, it was boringly beautiful. I cleaned out my collection of papers, used tickets, and the other flotsam and jetsam of travel, and worked on my diary while eating delicious, fresh cherries from Renate's neighbor's garden. I chatted with the Aussies off and on. They were on their annual 6-week tour of Europe, and he was a professional musician who was performing along the way.

Conclusion

Bucket List: Although I don't have any "must see" places, I'd be happy to be back in Vienna, or to visit my friend Renate anytime.

Signs of Life: Part 1

© 2015 Rex Jaeschke. All rights reserved.

From time to time during my travels, I come across signs that I find interesting for one reason or another. Sometimes, they contain clever writing, are humorous, or remind me of some place or event. Here are some from a recent trip to London and Yorkshire in England.

 

A restaurant.

According to its website, "The restaurant features many quirks – eagles, clocks all set to 8 o'clock and film sets in the toilets – don't be afraid to ask!"

 

A sandwich shop.

According to Wikipedia, the upper crust is, "The upper class in modern societies; the social class composed of the wealthiest members of society, who also wield the greatest political power. Apparently, it's also "the name of a pizza chain in Boston, and a chain of European baguette (sandwich) restaurants".

 

This was in the window of a fish and chip shop.

I thought it odd to use the word species when taking about the available choices of cooked fish. Ordinarily, this term is used in the context of biological classification.

And just in case you were wondering what panga is, click here.

 

Now which couples do you know fit this description?

 

Presumably, the use of suck in this advertisement for a breakfast drink on the side of a public bus is not only about sucking through a straw, but also the slang term that Wiktionary describes as, "To be inferior or objectionable: a general term of disparagement, sometimes used with at to indicate a particular area of deficiency."

From my own experience living Down Under, until the great social awakening there in the 70's, I think it is fair to say that Aussies did think of themselves as being second-class. However, nowadays, they are far superior to the Poms at cricket!

 

One of many like signs I saw painted on the sidewalk (or should I say, footpath).

BTW, bin is short for dustbin, the British equivalent of an American garbage can or trash can.

 

A pizza place. A clever take-off of bits and pieces.

 

From a pub.

According to Wikipedia, "John Metcalf (1717–1810), also known as Blind Jack of Knaresborough or Blind Jack Metcalf, was the first professional road builder to emerge during the Industrial Revolution. And he was indeed blind.

 

A clever name for a real estate and property management company.

 

A restaurant.

The term Cosa Nostra generally refers to the Sicilian Mafia. As such, I couldn't help but think that, here, one could eat the fishes before sleeping with the fishes!

 

But who's counting?

 

A restaurant.

According to their website, "Our main offering is [sic] small homemade grazing dishes which are ideal for sharing or for having alone if you don't do sharing. The main thing that people enjoy is sampling lots of different dishes in one sitting. We often find that people will order something they wouldn't normally because it is served in our unique grazing style.

 

An antiques shop.

I've heard of a den of iniquity, but apparently, this is something else. Or perhaps the antiques are stolen!

 

Sign at a street market stall.

It seems like a fair request, although it doesn't say anything about the dog's owner taking a whizz.

 

A lingerie shop.

I immediately thought of the old song from the musical Carousel, "June Is Bustin' Out All Over", although I believe that in that context June was the name of a month rather than somebody's girl!

 

Magic carpet ride, anyone?