ProseKnitic – of Words und Wolle

It was raining in Amsterdam early this morning (shall we just leave it at before 0500 in the morning) when I walked through the skyway from the Hilton to Schipol. Lufthansa check in was a breeze and they directed me to Lounge 26 which turned out to be heavy on coffee, pastries and booze with WiFi that was only marginally faster than what was available in the open airport.

It was raining in Frankfurt when we landed at the far end of nowhere. I still don’t know where on the airport the plane was parked but it certainly took forever for both the bus and the hike to A/Z for US stateside departures. There was barely enough time to down coffee at the Senataor lounge before heading to Z15 for what proved to be a not on time departure. Flight wasn’t bad, if you discount the high maintenance couple next to me (who on earth wears a fur coat on the airplane and then gets upset when the cabin attendant doesn’t want to hang it up? I mean really, )

I finished all but the edging on Tree-of-Life in Spring and started the next shawl in blacks and whites. Read a few books on the iPad and otherwise passed the time till arrival at JFK. The only positive thing I can say about clearing immigration at JFK is that it did not take as long as the last couple of times in Houston. Since both of those two experiences approached two hours in entertainment, that is probably not saying much.

What was completely unexpected was that customs was taking forever. Each of the two officers was actually speaking with each and every person. Since there were no working dogs in the vicinity, I have not a clue as to what they were looking for.

Did I mention that it was raining in NYC? I found the cruise line agent without two much difficulty. The poor guy had been there since 1215 (and it was now 14xx). After five phone calls, he found my transfer had been sitting outside since 1230. So there I was on my way.

Since Memorial Day is Monday, this turned out to be the start of the holiday weekend. Translates to completely insane traffic. Did I mention that it was raining? Pouring down rain which both lead to slower traffic and drenched pedestrians dodging between trucks and cars in an effort to get anywhere that din’t involve gallons of water descending from the skies. It took almost two hours to get to Pier 90. Since ship boarding had started at 1500, the area was almost deserted. I received more than a few astonished looks for not having more than a backpack and small wheeled suitcase.

I met Maus for dinner and happily handed over the backpack with her goodies which significantly reduced my luggage load. Since the rain had finally stopped, the walk both to the restaurant and back to the ship turned out to be lovely.

It should be very simple and obvious, right?

Anyway – The lecture this morning on the Dutch East India Company was fun and entertaining. It was mostly about one of the first ship/company surgeons as well as the incredible death rates among the basic sailors (one in three survived to return to home port….)

After a couple of other seminars, a visit with a friend from the SanAk days now a German Embassy Doc in Kenya (who as well has oversight for 14 other countries), coffee, lunch and more coffee I walked back to the hotel.

After collecting my luggage I found there was a free shuttle to the train station. Always better than a cab since it once again was raining and the idea of walking in the rain dragging luggage was not exactly thrilling.

The Netherlands train system is like Germany. There are clear yellow placards at all reasonable points with listings of time, trains and platforms. Standard platforms. And, as it turns out, there are also clear display screens in each train car so you know where you are, where the train is going, and – even better – the next stop.

As a result, taking the train to Utrecht, walking across the platform and boarding the train to Schipol was a breeze. Never mind that I still don’t understand why 7a is on the quay as 5b. It was at the airport that things got to be fun.

Schipol has turned into one large transportation complex. The trains are downstairs, the shopping area is obvious and the locations for taxis, buses and hotel shuttles are clearly signed. The hotel where I planned on staying is about 200 meters down from the complex which meant I was there in short order.

It was then that the fun began. Bright, noisy and full of people, there is only self check in at large computer screens. When entering my name, my reservation number and anything else I could imagine didn’t help I took a deep breath. A nice young man came over to assist. We looked over my reservation and spotted the problem. For whatever reason, my screen at HRS had not flipped to the correct date (or had flipped back and I just didn’t spot it). I did have a reservation for the 22nd. Unfortunately, it was not May 22.

Ouch.

My lovely young earinged man looked up hotel options in the area. Other than the Hilton and Sheraton, there was nothing else available at the airport. My flight takes off at 07xx in the morning. In order to make an 0635 boarding I want at least an hour at the airport. Staying anywhere else would add a morning cab fare of ~65E from downtown in addition to having to get up an hour earlier.

I went and checked into the Hilton. Connected by a skyway, albeit a long one, I stayed out of the rain and could count on a 10 minute walk in the morning. Free Wifi in the lobby didn’t hurt either.

Almost, but not quite makes up for, even with printing out the receipt, not noticing that April and May are two different months.

You would think after all the time I have lived in Europe I would have better sense. I even told you that I had managed to uncover, while cleaning up the bedroom and packing, the two lovely umbrellas purchased in Naples.

So explain to me why, in spite of the fact that it rained yesterday, I didn’t think to take one along today? Perhaps it was because it rained yesterday while I was inside the MECC and so missed the entire experience of rain in Maastricht. Seeing is believing. Since yesterday I neither saw nor experienced the rain I didn’t think of it this morning. All of this is the long explanation for why I wound up dashing the 1.5 km back to the hotel from the Convention Center.

The lectures today were interesting – topics ranging from malaria through immunization programs to pulmonary embolus risk after flights – all of which took second place in my concern compared to getting my new red leather jacket (from Istanbul) wet.

So may I just leave you with

One of the things that has delighted me over the years is the history of medicine lectures that start each morning at ISTM conferences. Usually presented by a fairly well know but local academic these have been relevant, entertaining and educational.

This conference is no different. Today’s topic, presented by Professor Hillen from the Netherlands is From House of God to Academic Hospital – a History of Medicine in Maastricht.

I think most of us forget that “organized” delivery of care was since earliest times in western Europe, the right, responsibility and mission of religion and religious orders. Not being any different than other cities – Maastricht, with the original city being founded in Roman times saw early the establishment of hospices to care for the poor under the religious umbrella.

From there it is not much of either a physical or intellectual jump to see how care evolved through the centuries with areas being set outside the city walls both for leprosy and later for plague.

From these humble beginnings developed one of the first guilds of barber surgeons, later medical schools in the region till today as a academic center. I have more pictures, but these were the ones that delighted me the most.

Tomorrow we will hear from Dr Marc Coosemans, a Belgian entomologist about the history of malaria in the region and we will finish on Wednesday morning with the History of the Dutch East India Company.

Much of the rest of today was taken up with more discussions on malaria, vaccines and fast and furious section on trauma and injury in travel.

When I registered for this conference it seemed to me I had two choices: travel on Saturday and use Sunday for look around and education or travel on Sunday and be rushed. Since this turned out to be the two week holiday for most of southern Germany, being smart about travel seemed wisest.

 

So here I am, registered, educated and fed. Not a bad deal.

The session I attended turned out to be extremely interesting. Titled Responsible Tourism the three speakers covered a fairly wide range of topics. The first discussed the economic impact of tourism for good and bad on the developing world ( with a strong aside about who actually makes money and how/why/what travel health professionals can accomplish. The idea of the human zoo comes to mind…. Visit a local tribe and see….

The second speaker, more than a little disorganised covered the two way street of disease impact on both travellers and local populations ( hint – the new world only furnished syphilis. The old world provided measles, mumps, chicken pox, smallpox, …..)

The final speaker was the most interesting and organised. She discussed the whole emerging money making field of volunteer tourism aka voluntourism . Specifically she discussed Gap years, short term feel good projects and the more than real negative impact that many of these program’s have. As a group we had a rousing discussion of the different segments of this population.

Even more fun was the opening ceremony complete with The Night Watch

 

 

 

And an excellent speaker who discussed what was really portrayed in many of the Old Dut h Master’s Paintings.

I forgot to take pictures of the exquisite food preparation. You will just have to use your imagination.

It was just short of 2000 last night when I had a blinding flash of the obvious. I didn’t have to pack liquids in my suitcase. I was taking the train. Yes, I know that it should have been in my mind early on but you have to remember that I normally take the train to the airport so train in my mind is normally an intermediate form of transportation, not the definitive one. In this case it meant that I could toss my toothpaste, sunblock and hand lotion in my backpack without fear of loss at the first security point. What security point? I am taking the train. Or rather – trains.

Today I am headed to Maastricht in the Netherlands for the ISTM Conference on Travel Medicine (19-23 May).

Just in case you cared – by road it is 343 km which means Google maps estimates driving time around 3:10 ( I will spare you the 23 steps of the driving distance). By public transportation (now also there complete with numbers of changes) the estimate is around 5:19 from Google.

This is what the Bahn had to say:

Heidelberg Hbf	Sa, 18.05.13	ab	08:25	5	IC 2216	Intercity Bordbistro
Köln Hbf	Sa, 18.05.13	an	11:15	5
Umsteigezeit 28 Min.						Umsteigezeit anpassen
Köln Hbf	Sa, 18.05.13	ab	11:43	6	ICE 16	Intercity-Express Bordbistro
Aachen Hbf	Sa, 18.05.13	an	12:16	9
Umsteigezeit 16 Min.						Umsteigezeit anpassen
Aachen Hbf	Sa, 18.05.13	ab	12:32	1	RB 11912 RB 11962	Regionalbahn Fahrradmitnahme begrenzt möglich
Heerlen	Sa, 18.05.13	an	13:06
Umsteigezeit 10 Min.						Umsteigezeit anpassen
Heerlen	Sa, 18.05.13	ab	13:16	4	32044	Regionalzug Fahrradmitnahme begrenzt möglich

In actuality, it is going to take me slightly more than 6 hours because  I have to take an alternate method from Koln on since all the seats are sold out on ICE 16 and I need to take a regional instead.

It doesn’t bother me – I save money and enjoy the the Bummelbahns. Besides, it leaves me more time to knit.

Speaking of same – I finished the simple cotton scarf to go with one of the hats knit in March.

Allegedly the hotel has WiFi.

1600 Update

Yes the hotel has wifi – no charge! I am ensconced in a most comfortable room after having trucked across the city (ok, only 1,4 km) to get here. I am about to go out and wander around including finding some supper, but first wanted to finish up this note.  Now I have to just decide what is next on the project list for those between lecture times….

There are times where you can see life, specifically your life, changing around you gradually. Where you have come from is clear and where you are likely going to end up (not discussing choices now, just obvious directions).

And then there are those moments, perhaps but certainly not more than a few hours where everything permanently and radically changes. I went through that 18 years ago and everything has faded to the point where the information sits quietly in the background and only occasionally ambushed me. For others, that point is current and acutely painful causing a reexamination of life, plans and the future.

So it is for a colleague with whom I had lunch on Wednesday. I remember him from 2000 when I was stationed at the SanAk as a cheerful but serious, studious officer committed to both medicine and the military. His off time as a single person was devoted to travel, specifically to Thailand where he continued to work at several clinics which has been established during one of his deployments to the area. The last time he returned, he did so with the unexpected complication of a pulmonary embolus probably secondary to the the long plane flight.

Now as a person who rarely drank, never smoked and always lived his life in moderation, this was a serious change in his life and short term travel limits. Not to be outdone, about six months later within the space of 24 hours a small bit of upper back pain turned out to be a major evolving myocardial infarction. No family history, no nothing and not 60 till his next birthday.

What do you do when you are on your own, your cardiac function is now so low that you are being retired. Your daily regime includes more than 40 pills a day and your doctors have basically suggested that traveling more than an hour from a major medical center would be extremely stupid. Your plans of Thailand as a long term member of the clinic are gone. In fact, trekking and travel are pretty much gone.

My choices were much simpler not being in the “drop dead tomorrow without any notice” category. But given the choices I made 18 years ago, it is obvious that my thoughts tend toward quality over quantity. I am decidedly happy that I have my current health, my husband enjoys his job and my offspring are all busy with their lives.

So I travel, meet people, knit, read and write this blog on those days when I have internet connectivity. Multiple ways, I goes, to leave a little of oneself behind.

I have taken to walking to and from the train station whenever possible. With possible being defined as something other than pouring rain or so much luggage that my arms would hurt. According to Google Maps the distance is somewhere between 2.3-2.6 km (depending on a detour through the Cemetery) and a hike along a foot path.

When we first moved to this area of Heidelberg I never thought twice about walking this particular way, no matter the time or weather. Sometime in the last few years, that has changed.

I can’t say that there are trolls under the bridges that I walk by, that is a bit too simplistic and it implies something about people that I am not sure is true. My route takes me along a decent size street, across several intersections then parallel a four lane divided road. There are entrance ramps on the left side as I walk toward the train station. These ramps essentially form bridges. Rather than leave the pedestrians and bicyclists competing with heavy traffic, the well paved alternative veers under the bridges.

I counted four mattresses in the first section today and two in the second. Last winter there were literally more than a dozen people living there. On Monday, there was only one guy complete with sleeping bag, cart and bicycle sound asleep up against one of the pillars. Today, there were just sleeping bags and a small bit of trash.

I think that the both the Bahnhof mission (dedicated to helping the homeless, preferably the alcoholics) and the Politzei clear the place out regularly. Certainly there were no large piles of trash or horrible smells, just the sad detritus of those with no where else to go. Heidelberg doesn’t seem to have large numbers of homeless even though there seems to be a serious number of beggars on the Hauptstrasse on tourist days.

It certainly bears more thought than dealing with what turned out to be a ride on the Austrian Klangenfurt to Frankfurt run that came in late, was delayed by more problems and arrived in Heidelberg a considerable time after what had been planned.

The middle day of these conferences always seems never ending.  To top it off, the weather is cold and there is supposed to be a BBQ tonight. I am sure that you can just imagine how excited I am. Not.

In fact, it seems pretty much a given that I am skipping most of the social events. Since I am no longer in the situation that attending these kind of things constitutes mandatory fun – I see no reason why I should pay to attend something where there will be little to nothing I am willing to eat. Oh, yes, and beer – not particularly interested in that either.  Originally I was going to go and meet friends for dinner, but that has been postponed which leaves me an evening to myself.

I can’t say that I am disappointed after having spent the day first listening to a succession of gloom and doom scenarios for which various assorted detection, diagnosis, triage and treatment  ideas and protocols were put forward. I will admit to a certain bit of cynicism after working in the field for so many decades. Plus, I find a basic fallacy in everything that is proposed.

Please tell me how many of the terrorist attacks (Afghanistan, Boston, Twin Towers, you name it) have been single point events and how many have involved more than one nasty item.

Exactly. Unlike the bio-defense people who know that the most likely thing to happen is going to be more than point source, not instantly detected and a rapidly spreading problem – these lovely people are still happily in the “one oops” one time pinpoint release/explosion/meltdown/whatever mindset. I suspect that there is most likely much more intelligent planning going on somewhere behind classified doors to which, thank goodness, I am no longer privy.

So – with an evening to knit (grin)

For those of you not familiar with the military tendency to number buildings in large numerals rather than give them names, let me introduce you to the phenomenon.

Military installations may vary in size and complexity. The naming convention for a particular post may involve heroes, places, battles, famous people, depending on taste, time and tradition. But if you need to give someone directions or turn in a work order, using a name may just make it more difficult. If you number the buildings then there is absolutely no question of which building is under discussion. Numbers don’t change and each one is unique.

Further, on larger installations numbers run in sequences and batches. If you are standing in front of building 100 for example, the buildings in near proximity are going to have numbers higher or lower in the same sequence. This is not your usual street in Germany where on one side you have buildings 11, 13, 15 and 17 directly across the street from number 168. Instead, you can be fairly safely assured that Building 5 is going to be located between Buildings 4 & 6. If a building is big enough to have multiple entrances, it is common practice to name them …. A, B, C …..

Anyway, when I come to these conferences I always ask for billeting on the Casern. When I was active duty, it was just easier since force protection rules said no uniforms off post. And, since some of the times I came it was in permissive status, it was just easier not to have bills to pay. That is right, the German military doesn’t charge for barracks use for conferences. Now, since this is entirely out of my own pocket, I am more than happy to not have any more expenses than my train fare and a few Euros for meals in the mess hall.

Building 4 has rooms with private showers. Buildings 5 & 6 are your typical single room with sink. Showers and toilets are down the hall. These are not open (like field latrines and showers) so I am more than a happy camper. I’m not in a tent – what’s not to like? Free room, cheap board, 18 CME credits and getting to see old friends and colleagues. So staying in building 6 works for me. Especially since I even have a room on the ground floor!

Is not a person or misspelling. It is the new name of the Conference that runs every 1-2 years at the Sanitatsakademie der Bundeswehr. It used to be call A-Schutz meaning, more or less, radiation protection. Now, it is getting a bit more oriented toward preparedness and accident/incident response.

Anyway, I am headed to the train station on my way to Munich. I will have my iPhone. I will have my knitting and my iPad. I won’t have internet, so there is no point in taking the lap top. As I look outside, it might just have stopped raining which would be nice.

Don’t know how many umbrellas we have purchased over the years, but you think I can find even one when I need it?

to me, you and any woman who has spent any portion of their lives parenting. You don’t have to be the biological mother of someone to be their mother.

The Eldest, from a hotel in Vancouver, sent me these flowers…

The youngest sent me both greetings, love and the most extensive set of icons I have ever seen. I am still trying to figure some of them out.

The middle two both wrote me lovely notes which I might just print and save for a long time. My dear husband cooked a lovely luncheon and we just relaxed for the afternoon. Which means that I knit, listened to an audiobook and otherwise took it easy!

Close your eyes for a moment and imagine the scene. It is the middle of the afternoon with the sun shining down on the pedestrian zone of downtown Heidelberg. Bustling with people, there are shoppers, tourists, children and adults.

On the right just after Kaufhof in the direction of Kornmarkt is a mime dressed in elegant Victorian garb with grey face, velvet cutaway jacket, silver embellished cuff above lace ruffles on his frilly white shirt. Without missing a beat (or tumbling off his pedestal) he executes a formal bow to a young child dropping coins in his basket. Further down the street are dueling sax players. One of which likes the Pink Panther theme while the others melody tears into your heart.

Just as I am dropping off more books at the Neugasse bookshelf I hear the sounds of bells and chanting. Snaking through the crowd comes a cheerful line of orange dressed Hare Krishna happy to be spreading their joy to all around. Not to be outdone, a heavy metal group raucously starts playing in the Darmstadter Hof – drowning out all thought.

At this point, my ears have had enough. It was time to walk through the back streets and home. The one time I didn’t read the Ravelry forum before coming to Red it turns out the group had made other plans. I still had a nice coffee and piece of kuchen, but I was more than ready for home.

Somewhere in the back of my mind keeps running this little phrase of “hearts and flowers…”

Oh, wait – I remember, it was an expression of sympathy – Hearts and Flowers on a miniature violin accompanied by a small circular motion of the index finger above the thumb like you were playing a bow.

Given that we have Google – I went looking. Sure enough there is such a thing. The original piece (according to Wikipedia) was composed in 1893 and became associated with silent movies. The connotation was then made through usage to the melodramatic, sentimental, and tragic with cloying overtones.

If you don’t believe me – listen to this YouTube clip. If you want a bit more humor – you can always enjoy this clip.

Of course, all of this is a distraction from reality. Hats –

and flowers – added to the front because the dirt just looked boring.

Me? I would have just planted grass or waited for the weeds to come up but George really wanted some color. I think Germany has infiltrated his brain….

There are certain household chores which seem to fall on my shoulders.

There are several points of view

1. I do them so well that everyone (DH included) just leaves them for me
2. I am fussy about how they are done, so they are left for me
3. No one else cares, but me, so they are left for me
4. or (and I highly suspect this one) my reactions are so over the top that watching me explode makes up for living with the highly unpleasant till I get home

Currently I am favoring the last; at least it gives a partial explanation as to why anyone in their right mind/s would live with the contents of the fridge for the 2 1/2 months I have been gone. I know that I have complained about this before, but it seems that I am the only one who can clean out expired goods. There were various dairy products tucked into the back that you really didn’t want to see. I didn’t even take photos – they were so green and fuzzy. Yogurt is not supposed to sit on the shelve that long. Neither are quark or cream cheese – at least not if they have been opened.

Why are all the molds green? I could have really used a bit of another color while in my scrape, flush and rise ire.

By the time I was done, the slimy, the outdated and the just plain funky were gone leaving nothing to eat other than condiments (jelly with mustard on parmesan cheese anyone?), one bottle of wine and a few of beer. According to the guy, he has been buying just for the couple of days a week he is in residence. The Eldest who comes through to exercise and for laundry brings and consumes her own food while all the other goodies are left to happily molder in piece.

If that wasn’t enough – there is this –

Hello? How hard is it to

ending up with this

After accomplishing this easy task twice (one bathroom dispenser and the same exact model in the kitchen) once again hand cleanliness has become easy.

Good thing I didn’t bring home Norovirus……

One of the lovely things about aging (and not so gracefully many a day) is that you get to both keep friends around for decades as well as make new ones as you travel.

One of those of long acquaintance  I was able to bail out of the train station yesterday and bring home looking a bit like a sheep dog for shaggy white hair and beard. One picture is here but that does not truly reflect the hair, beard and eyebrows which are rapidly growing out of control reminiscent of  weeds thriving after a good rainfall.

Getting to retire from the military can do strange things to your appearance and wardrobe. Perhaps it is more noticeable in the men since women have long been able to change clothes, change hairdos and disappear without a ripple into the civilian stream of travelers.

After an evening of chat last night, today we set out to run errands. A trip to Nachrichten Kasern was bittersweet – almost all of the clinics which had been consolidated a few months ago are now closed. I am able to pick up my trifocals and visit with one of the few remaining docs. Brad and I stop by the lab, but anyone he might have known from his years here in the early 1990s as the pathologist have long since returned to the states or found employment elsewhere prior to the closure.

Is it worth mentioning that once again I forgot the post office on PHV doesn’t open till 1100?

Otherwise we headed downtown, dropped off books at Neugasse Bookshelf, bought Gummis for Maus and the College Guy, stopped through Wolfskin, had lunch at Red, and wandered back home through the Weststadt. His feet held out so he can visit friends Friday and head back to the US without me turning him into a cripple.

Even with white hair anyone who is younger than me simply is not old!

Even though I keep promising myself that I will send off postcards to the offspring as I travel, it just hasn’t happened.  At the start of each trip I have such good intentions. I think about how nice it is to receive cards in the mail.

And I check on the addresses I have. 3/4. Ok – turns out that I don’t have a complete mailing address on one, but since I can see her when I am in town, I really haven’t worried about it. I have her phone number and know how to drive where she lives.

So I put off asking about the address because I feel dumb not having the street/mailing address of one of my children. Days and ports pass. Can’t send a card to some of them and leave others out. It would be one of the few times that they would all communicate with the end result of someone feeling badly.

So instead, once again I send off email. And txt message. To which I get the occasional answer. I can do email, but the question remains if I would be more likely to get a reply, even if it is an email, to a card sent in the mail.

It is 0600 in the morning and the sun is not yet up. The Mariner has just docked while I have $10 left on my free internet credit (which might just explain this short note).

I signed up for the transport to the airport (rather than do it the extremely cheap way involving dragging my suitcases up Las Ramblas) so that I can arrive to the Lufthansa lounge and relax rather than be sweaty, crabby and jostled by the bus.

This transatlantic has been a good time: I have met some fascinating new people as well as become better friends with some I have now cruised with almost as often as with my DH.

Since the girls headed back to NYC – I have knit 7 hats, six scarves, a shawl and a couple of objects which have yet to be named.  Pix will be posted as soon as I get home – or more likely tomorrow since I won’t make it home till late tonight.

Thanks for reading!

and also packing. Of course, if I could keep track of the days, my life might be easier (something about thinking today was the 3rd, but I don’t have much, if anything as far as photos from the third so I was confused but. ….)

Any who – I walked from the ship into town. It was a lovely day and the idea of riding in a bus packed with others was just beyond me (did I mention that there was a really, really long line for the free shuttle?)

First in from the port is the Volvo Ocean Race Museum.

Now, not being a complete fool – I figured this was some kind of sailing race. Yes, round the world as a matter of fact with the start, finish and operational control center right here in Alicante!

The films were absolutely amazing and there are a number of interesting shorts on YouTube.

The other interesting sight was Castillo de Santa Barbara overlooking the town. (Go here if you want the actual Castle site with some great photos. Reading Spanish might help)

You can walk up (if you can figure out how), take a tour (which provides you the bus), take a Hop-On-Hop-Off bus or pay 2.40E and ride up in the elevator.

Arriving early, there wasn’t a line for the elevator (since the elevator goes up and down the mountain with only 10 pax at a time you can see that the several hundred people in line when I headed back down might just constitute a challenge.

From on top of the Fortress you can see out to forever it seems as well as much of the architectural details. This was more of a fortress with the emphasis on function. No fancy rooms or salons here, just placements for the guns and the determination to control shipping.

The rock was partially covered by clouds this morning as the ship maneuvered in next to the quay just before 0700. Given that most of the rest of the sky was clear, the pollution of the city might have something to do with the dirty brown color captured by my camera.

Not sure actually where we are docked in relation to the city and the central bus station but I think I will find out in a few minutes right about the time that I find WiFi, which, unfortunately is also after I had the realization that this is UK territory. Pounds sterling I have in my wallet but a UK connector? Not at all, the ones from my time in Camberley are nestled comfortably in George’s desk drawer where they are not doing me one whit of good.

As a result, I may just spend more time on the iPad as its battery lasts a lot longer.

noon update

In the first group off the ship, I headed straight for the cable car station. Remember last time I was here? It was a Tuesday and they were down for maintenance. This time I arrived to find that they don’t open till 0930. About to depart the area, several tour buses pulled up. I jumped into the crowd stopping at the window to buy my ticket (return) and managed to be on the third car headed up the hill.

The view was spectacular – on the way up you could see Africa. From the top I could see the Atlantic, the Med, Spain and the apes.

 

Ah, yes, the Barbary Apes – a version of macaques. Not stupid, they go after anything that looks like food (including plastic bags because those carry food) and are known to bite.

Not being interested in monkey bites, I stayed reasonably away from them. After climbing around on what was left of the fortress, I traveled down again by cable car and walked through the city.

After stopping at the Gibraltar Museum (two pounds entrance no photos allowed) I spent a futile hour attempting to find wifi. Finally on the way back to the ship I stopped at an Indian restaurant where, for the price of a cheese nan – I am on line.

Photos in the future!

(from here it is back to the ship – on board time is 1530)

 

Today is the last sea day, but not the day before we dock. Instead there are two ports to go, just to make sure that I am out of sorts and not packed on time. If nothing else, it gives everyone whining time..

Leaving Funchal, Madeira late yesterday afternoon I tried to get myself motivated.

Failing that, I went up to the lounge and hung out with everyone else. That left me today to figure out where everything goes in the suitcase and what I want to wear for the next couple of days.

Not finding any of that interesting, I invited people in to knit and chat instead!

Landed in Madeira today after seven days crossing the Atlantic. The seas were not high, but there were still at least the usual complaints – mostly from the people who put on their patches prior to boarding the ship in Galveston. It certainly was not the level of fun that Chere and I had last spring riding the rollercoaster of the bow – so I guess I am missing the issue.

I know that some people get ill (I have a daughter who does, but she is great about it and certainly doesn’t feel obligated to inform everyone on the ship in an extremely loud voice.)

But I have no idea what is going on with the old email, yahoo seems to believe that I am totally and completely not me. As a result, I will be retiring the old UK email address. It actually makes sense considering I set that one up in Jan 2008 while I was living in the UK at that particular address. I could have changed to our address in Heidelberg, but none of us believe that I am actually there all that much – so what would be the point?

(If I was there, I would actually have to get back to sorting out this attic full of stuff, three storage rooms full of stuff, shelves full of books and containers of craft supplies……)

The weather is holding for the moment, but I do expect rain later today.

At sea again tomorrow – Gibraltar the day after where my Pounds Sterling may actually be of some use followed by Alicante then a flight home on Monday from Barcelona….

It went by without me even thinking of it.

Today marked two years out of the Army. It shows to go you that I was totally and completely done. So done that I don’t really see why it people need to know what I did for a living for over 30 years. Worked for the federal government which is what took us overseas. But not saying I am a physician avoids most of the really stupid questions, concerns and long, drawn out quasi medical resuscitations. It is not that I don’t care (really, I mostly like people) but many find it hard to believe that I have no interest in knowing their complete medical history much less offer an opinion on medications, treatments and some distant relative.

Where was I? Oh yes, being out of uniform. I think that there are those who cling to the military – examples are when someone asks “who here is in the military” and you get not just the active duty but the retirees standing. I was in the military. I am not inthe military. There are those who also parlay their old job into something new for a beltway bandit or other contractor organization. Maybe it is the age most retire, or perhaps it is men with families they need to support. But me? I cut the strings. It helps that I happened to be married to this really cool guy capable of supporting himself (and paying college tuition….)

I also really, really hate the “thank you for your service.”

Why? It was my job, my life, my choice. I want to ask these same people if they are routinely thanking their local fire and police personnel (why not?) or why they didn’t serve….. It is like they have said something, and it somehow absolves them of any and all personal responsibility.

Off the soap box and back to life.

And I don’t think that I am anymore likely to remember next year, but perhaps I should celebrate?

On the east bound journey from Galveston to Barcelona there are seven hours that need to be lost somewhere along the way.

Given that one of the choices (do them all at once) makes absolutely no sense to people not use to thinking that it is black out during the day and light out at night, the other two choices come to the fore -

1) you can change time zones in the middle of the night making it fairly invisible to eveyone, but also depriving everyone, especially the staff – of sleep.

2) you can make the change in the middle of the day. This deprives everyone of an hour of entertainment, but lets the staff keep their sleep.

I don’t remember what we did on the Jewel, I could ask Chere. Or for that matter on the Grandeur or Atlantica. I have done more East to West than the other way around.

Anyway – for six days in a row 11:30 became instantly 12:30 shortening the day by an hour and decreasing the time between trough feedings. The later didn’t seem to bother anyone, but after about three days I swear that some of the people looked worse than Zombies. Since they weren’t tired in the evening (who goes to bed at 1900?) they stayed up an extra hour or so past where they usually did before attempting to get up at their normal time. Essentially this bright crew then confused themselves by not one, but two or more hours that were not in sync.

Needless to say by today – the last one of the changes and six hours difference into the fun, they were walking into walls and not feeling well.

I was not at all popular when I gleefully mentioned that there was still an hour to go after Madeira. But who ever thought that I was a nice person?

Deck 10 is the deck which contains the bridge, senior officers cabins and some of the fancier suites. No wonder that it is the deck with the sailing theme. Both Erte style three dimensional displays showing the elegant from the days of rich taking leisurely cruises across the Atlantic to some really cute action puppets from shipwrecks and the south seas adorn the walls.

I otherwise have been known to refer to this deck (the top passenger deck) as the nose bleed deck, but I obviously have no prejudice against the rich and famous now do i?

Since I didn’t take pictures the last time I did a bridge tour, I thought I would take the chance offered today to see the bridge again with camera in tow.

On the Mariner the bridge is on Deck 10 all the way forward. In fact, beyond the door that says “crew only past this point” there are cabins for the senior crew. Seen from the outside, they have portholes (no balconies).

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The second officer gave us a tour and extensive explanation, slowed down only by one passenger (German, engineer) who had a million questions that the rest of us didn’t think were all that relevant.

Beyond that, the captain stopped by and what should have been a 30 minute tour managed to be stretched to close to an hour. Lots of electronics, duplicates of everything and people hard at work

Another wheeled transportation floor. No trucks here; rather we have mostly racing cars. Not just racing though – the smaller sketches, prints and photos on the wall show styles ranging from representative abstracts to photos of modern formula V finish lines along with some lovely illustrations of 1920-30s classics. Of course, there is also whimsy and fun in more than one collection of toy cars proving once again that toys are not just for kids.

For those of you not familiar with the British Empire and their participation in WWI, there are a number of good references out there on the participation of the colonies in operating under the British Flag in the war effort.

Perhaps the most notorious of these was the blood bath at Gallipoli where Australia and New Zealander troops attempted to take a Turkish Strong hold directly uphill in the face of machine gun fire. Needless to say, there were thousands of deaths without success. The “bold strike against the Ottoman Empire” envisioned by Winston Churchill became a total blood bath.

The 25th of May April [thanks to Catdownunder for reminding me since I don't have always have a clue about when either things happened or what month I am in ] has become a day of national remembrance.

Besides the NZ and Australian contingent on ship, there were a significant number of allied military and friends for both the memorial service and luncheon.

Continuing with the theme of transportation – Deck 8 has two wheelers and a pair of unicycles. Both bicycles and motorcycles are represented. There is a sense of humor, holographs and toys for large and small people. I appreciate the three dimensional cases where your direction of view determines what you see.

The theme of the day is flight.

Along many of the walls are sketches and pictures from the early days of flight as well as artist (?) interpretations along with some items with an obvious sense of humor. Personally, I think this is one of the best uses of Barbie Dolls that I have ever seen.

Again – most of the large objects, dioramas and holographic images are at the entrances to the cabin corridors on both port and starboard.