ProseKnitic – of Words und Wolle

We could blame it on the day of the week but more than likely it is the fact that this particular location is more capital, and less tourist attraction. When away from a small portion of downtown shore line, the town is not all that exciting. Swirls of trash on the street reflect the flocks of pigeons circling overhead. Buildings are slabs of cement in less than ideal repair. The occasional palm lets you know that the weather here is warm, windy with a moderate amount of rainfall. The fort on the edge of the city reminds everyone that battles were fought across the area centuries ago.

Some things feel familiar – water storage on the top of buildings, a few wooden doors here and there and a real phone booth. The Library is open on Sundays – most of the stores are not.

And progress on the knitting.

The Old Tower stands at one end of what is now a pedestrian zone in La Laguna at the Placa de la Conception. Its stones are old, the wood frames of the windows looking only a few decades old and well cared. There are 24 stone steps inside leading to the first main level. From this point, obvious new wooden construction lets you climb another 112 stairs up to the point when you literally hit your head against the glass ceiling at the top of the cupola. The bells are one level down from there and the highest section at which you have access to the outside world without benefit of glass separating you from the weather.

Since I was just here in Nov (as apposed to Nov of 2007) when I had seen some of the museums I decided to take the tram across the northern part of the island from Tenerif. From one end of the line to the other takes close to an hour starting from near the old fort at water’s edge and ending at the Pedestrian Zone at the other.

It is easy to see that we are back in Spain; the fancy patterned stone side walks with their lines, symbols and insets are gone in favor of ordinary cobblestone and pavement. The architectural highlight in this city is the door. Old wooden doors pitted but lovingly tended. Newer doors (well 100 years old is newer, right?) gleam with varnish and sealant. Also of interest are the wooden frames to upper windows.

I hope you can handle doors two days in a row. Oh, and did I mention the tribe of Scouts complete with backpacks, sleeping rolls and a weary looking couple of adults escorting them down the street. From the variety of languages heard I don’t think they are local kids.

Reading -

I am trundling through Monica Ferris’s Needlework Shop Mystery series. Not exactly in order by chronology but by alphabetical order as I picked most of them up over the last year on the various Audible Sales.

Knitting.

It takes much longer to finish a section repeat on the Shadow Jacket now that I have added the body extensions on both ends to to the sleeve sides. ~150 stitches suddenly had 220 added, which does slow me down.

The last time I was in Funchal was fall 2007 (the trip with MSC from Genoa to Buenos Aires. The friend I was traveling with and I did a number of the touristy things like take the cable car up the mountain and the sledges down as well as wander around the town looking at this and that before heading back to the ship.

Since then, I have been to/through the Canaries a couple of times but the stops have been on other islands.

This is the first of two posts on Funchal. Too many photos for one post. Two completely disparate things to talk about.

In the last several years there has been a lot of art development which leads me to the street art. Back all those same number of years ago I had a Friday tradition of posting pictures – normally doors or arches. So this is about the doors along Rua de Santa Maria. Not all the doors, mind you – just the ones which I found interesting or could get a decent shot not obscured by all the other tourists with their cameras. I have my older EOS instead of the 7D which was not particularly happy with me. I am feeling the lack of capability (narrower ISO range which decreases the quality of indoor pictures) and the not-quite-as-good lens.

If you are reading the email version of this post with thumbnails – suggest you wander to the blog as the ability to embiggen some of the photos really makes a difference.

Since Internet on the ship is not cheap – you will get words first (cut and paste is wonderful!) followed by a picture gallery without labels. In the past, I have always said that I will upload photos later – and it doesn’t always happen. This time, rather than getting around to it – you will have pictures. Guess which is what is not a bad game.

Just so things are clear – we made an unexpected stop in Gibraltar last night. Since I have the older camera with an ISO setting only down to 1600, the shutter speed was longer than I liked and the best that I got was with camera braced on the side rail

The story started earlier in the afternoon when I was sitting, minding my own business in one of the lounges. This couple who had a significant number of years on me dropped in to chairs on the other side of the coffee table. The elderly gentleman, from what I understood (my French is just about gone and they had no other languages) had not been feeling well. He got up and wandered off. A few minutes later as he was headed back, it looked like he got dizzy and hit the carpet with a resounding crash.

Guess what – I even got to fill out an accident report in exchange for promptly responding (head wounds bleed like mad) and the staff rounded up a wheel chair after finding me some clean bar towels for a pressure dressing.

Several hours later, there is a ship wide announcement that we will be making an unplanned stop in Gibraltar to off load an ill/injured passenger. Now, I don’t think the head wound was all that serious but it did need stitches. What I believe is of concern is whatever medical reason was behind his falling in the first place. It wasn’t rough seas and it was not food issues. The five main issues (cardiac, strokes, diabetes, electrolytes and medication imbalance) are much more likely as a source).

The seas were not all that smooth and it was a bit chilly. Watching as they dropped down a side panel to lock up against the medical response tender and said vessel bouncing around like a cork was more than I wanted to see. Rather than take any more pictures, I headed in.

Now – back to the ship followed by a side detour into knitting.

The Norwegian Jade…. built in 2006 has the same physical layout as the Norwegian Star (Alaska cruise last August). In contrast, it has a bit of an interesting decoration scheme. There are paintings, murals, decorations and lighting fixtures that I would expect to see in the Pacific.  Well – goes what ? This turns out to  be the ship that used to be named “Pride of Hawaii” that plied the route around the Hawaiian Islands.

My cabin is comfortable for me and would be fine for a couple. You would have to be insane to try and shoehorn four people into this space.  What I am starting to consider is that, when traveling my oneself – go for the cheapest room possible. There really is not a whole lot of point to views or lots of space when it is by far more interesting to be out and about in the ship. If I want to sit by myself and never see or talk to other people I could have stayed home.

Anyway – there is the ship and there are also the two knitting projects currently in front of me. The Hocus Pocus cowl is portable within the limits of dealing with a color work pattern so it was with me on the plane and the first day on ship prior to luggage. The large triangular shawl has the first wing done, the center section and most of the second side completed leaving me with about six rows plus the front edging. It is a lot of stitches, trust me.

so – Ship pix, the rock and night (not great but the best you will get) and two knitting pictures.

 

I have run away from home again. If you are reading this as an email, it means that I managed to get on-line. If you are on my blog, well – I do occasionally have enough sense to preposition posts. This time it is with the Norwegian Jade. Obviously, the loop is from Barcelona to Barcelona.

From my point of view, this trip meets all criteria

1. it is warmer there than here
2. I like Barcelona and can find things there. Still want to spend more time in the Maritime Museum
3. I am familiar with the three Canary Stops and have places to visit and hikes to take
4. there are days at sea to knit.
5. no cooking, cleaning, laundry
6. good fitness facilities

 

Most of the time, I try to be coherent, but there are those days when it just doesn’t work. Like this morning.

It could be because I had little sleep on Sunday nigh, making the mistake of not heading to bed when I was tired. It passed, I had an energy spurt and all of a sudden it was after 0200 in the morning. Still with needing to drop George off at the Bahnhof for an 0615 train you may start to understand the magnitude of the problem. This was followed by a day of attempting to run errands, finishing knitting projects (you have already heard how that went) and packing.

All of a sudden, it was 2130 and I had this huge pile of projects to go in the suitcase, underwear and effectively no clothes. After I sorted things out a bit better (my plan on this trip is finishing two major projects and a lot of one-skein scarves), printed patterns, and found shoes – I need either the big suitcase, or two suitcases. That is where this frequent flyer business comes in handy. I can check two bags. The big suitcase and a smaller projects bag.

The downside? If my project bag gets lost I will be in a world of hurt without needles or yarn.

This morning I awoke to snow on the ground, ice on the steps and slightly coated objects next to the house that were car shaped. I had asked the Eldest for a ride to the train station. When I saw the snow, I decided it was stupid to have her get up and deal with all of that when she hadn’t gotten home from work till 0030. I was looking for the cab company phone number when she came up stairs, keys in hand. We made a deal, I borrowed a couple of Euro (just in case since I had 10 Euro and other wise only a large note. Large notes are not welcomed by taxi drivers, especially before 0600 in the morning), she called the cab company and went back to bed. We aren’t all that far from the train station. Given that the 0547 is the last direct train to the airport, it is my preference over later trains. Dragging suitcases through Mannheim Bahnhof to change tracks is not my idea of a good time.

Looking at the train schedule I realized – I could take the 0111 and be in Amsterdam by 0800. The only reason it takes that long is that the train has some long pauses at a couple of stations. Or, I could go to Hamburg, change trains and go to Copenhagen, Oslo or Stockholm (yes, there are ferries involved).

The other advantage of the early train is that the wagons are fairly empty. Lets me have two candy bars without feeling selfish when the conductor comes around. Bahn card has to be good for something!

0-H-0

Lufthansa Business Lounge, Fraport

it is dark along the A6 as I head for home. The rain helps obscure the road leaving me little doubt that the speed limit in round red lights overhead of 130 is a bit excessive. Neither the trucks nor I are going anywhere near that fast as we head in the direction of Mannheim hoping for as little problem on the journey as possible.

Certainly we don’t want the current issue of the A66 near Wiesbaden where someone is driving down the wrong side of the road. But I can see how it could happen, in the dark where there is no traffic and the road is pitch black. There are certainly no lights along the autobahn to give you an idea of direction. Nothing. Not like in Belgium or the Netherlands where the gleam of yellow energy saving lights reflect like cat’s eyes from over the road. Nor is there the orangish glare common to some of the other major roads elsewhere on the continent.

No, Germany can remain proud of its decision to not waste energy on lighting major roads which normally do not have speed limits. Those same roads, when it is dark and the fog swirls up from the fields covering the roads and obscuring that place, just a soccer field ahead of you where there was (wasn’t there?) a rather large tanker just a minute ago.

The drive was long, dark and I arrived home exhausted from a day of teaching ATLS in Landstuhl.

I have a full tank of gas and a promise that I don’t need to be there before 0900 in the morning which is good because I am more than brain fried having left home at 0530 this morning.

There is something about driving to an airport knowing that you are going home that makes me want to go just that little bit faster. Getting through the rental car drop off was not an issue, nor was catching the shuttle bus to the Terminal.

Of course, Lufthansa’s counter (they only have a couple of flights a day from Chicago – the rest are all code share operated by United) didn’t open for a couple of hours. Gave me plenty of time to knit. That scarf seemed a bit short. Since I still had another skein of yarn, it seemed most sensible to add another 30-40 cm to the length figuring I can mail it to her this coming week.

United doesn’t recognize any frequent anything card below Senator Class of other airlines, so I got to relax in a restaurant drinking a cappuccino and deciding that it is nicer to fly from SF or NYC. Paying United for the privilege of their lounge for a couple of hours just didn’t make any sense. (Does it also mean that for a price, just about anything is for sale?)

The flight – a 747 – had only ~ 80 in economy. I had noted that the plane seemed fairly empty when I did the online check in. As a result I had moved my seating from a section with a lot of people to the back of the plane claiming a row of three all to myself. At check-in, the counter person confirmed that it was likely that there was going to be no one with in several rows.

Not a problem – sleep is good.

Ms Soprano is off at orientation.

I got to spend a fair amount of time at Hertz (O’Hare Airport) turning in the van and picking up a much smaller car. It wasn’t supposed to take very long. Except …
1) they were out of cars, so it was 45 minutes. Ok, I can live with that – I had my iPod and knitting. I also had a box of “stuff” that had been left in the van. Had not planned on leaving anything in the van. So there I sit with a box at my feet surrounded by all these elegantly dressed people with their fancy suitcases. Go figure, I just ignored them.
2) USAA forgot that I was in the US and bounced my credit card. Not a good time, glad I had a back up. Their excuse later was …. they sent me an email to request that I log on to answer their questions.

All of part two I had no clue about until end of the afternoon when I stopped in to some friends in order to get a fixed phone for an 800# call and to access email. Not like all of us always have email.

So, meanwhile, I get through Costco on a debit card (same account as the credit card) without difficulty. Go figure, I can’t.

Stopping by a friends I call USAA and they tell me about their wonderful attempts to thwart fraud on my account. I tell them about the ugliness of standing at the Hertz counter and having my credit card refused. They tell me about sending an email. I ask them why they would think I had email while traveling.

We both take a breath. I once again give them phone numbers, they once again apologize and assure me there should be no problems. Huh.

Heading back to Chicago. Have not heard from the daughter since we parted ways at her orientation. Didn’t put her number in my phone.

So I have just sent her an email with my number and asked her to call …….

Setting up a place to live from scratch for one of the off-spring transferring schools might be called a challenge. I have been leaving a lot out between the lines but have been called to task enough times in the last couple of days by everyone who has become confused. Seemed like the time to review the bidding.

Now, this past fall with Maus it wasn’t completely absurd. She was headed to Pratt, she was going to be living in the dorm and excellent friends in the city helped out going over and above anything rational to give us a hand. (At least that is what Mark and Deb did, from bailing us out of the airport, dropping off Miriam’s stuff at school, putting us up overnight and dropping us again at the airport the next morning). Then there were the shopping runs.

Transferring Ms Soprano to Columbia College in Chicago was made more challenging by Gwen. When you have a dog, you don’t live in the dorm which necessitates finding an apartment. It also means a drive from DC (where her stuff was) to Chicago because of the stuff and the dog. Staying in motels which are dog friendly makes sense, and staying with friend in the area for a couple of days also meets the common sense test when you have keys but a completely open and empty place.

Today we managed to accomplish some major tasks. We didn’t buy out Costco, but she should not be lacking for supplies for a long time. They kept a bit of my money in return.

And then we went 0-2 at Apple once again failing to be able to execute a phone contract. AT&T managed to unscrew the paperwork but it took long enough to see 1/2 football game and reassure myself that I have been missing absolutely nothing by not watching TV for years. For an encore we stopped at Target for the rest of the house hold basics (those things which you really don’t want to buy in case lots – vegetable peelers, can openers, pillows……)

What we haven’t really settled is the furniture. I think it shouldn’t be an emergency decision driven by not wanting to sleep on the floor. After attempting IKEA yesterday and spending a bit of time on-line today I have had my thoughts confirmed. Whatever we buy, Ms Soprano is going to have to live with for a long time. Which is the long way around of saying that we haven’t made any decisions at all.

Don remembered the air mattress which has been hiding in his closet for several years. Originally purchased for one of his sons heading out on a similar type adventure it has seen a lot of use. We hauled it out, pulled it from the bag and unrolled it. Carefully peeling off the two sheets which had been packaged in with the air mattress we opened it out on the floor, plugged it in and watched it start to fill. It wasn’t hard to figure out the setting for the intake value but it just didn’t seem to be filling. As I am standing on the far end, I feel a cool breeze on my ankles. Looking down, there is a gaping hole with printed directions to the right. Funny thing, there is an out flow as well as the intake.

Seems that if you want to effectively inflate this double decker charmer it really helps to close the valve.

We will arrive in Chicago this morning.

The plan is coordinated for us to get keys to the apartment followed by unloading the van. I figure that will give us a few hours to wander around the area before heading out toward the burbs. We are going to have to do some basic stocking. Even with gas and tolls, I have a feeling that downtown Chicago (if it is like most major cities) has higher prices for many items than you find a bit further out.

The plan – obviously – is to leave Ms Soprano stocked with the basics. We picked up dog food yesterday. As we drove over the last two days, we made lists of everything we would need to pick up (from laundry detergent and cleaning supplies and food) those things which have to be done (utilities, mail delivery) to making suer that she can find the school and the dog park (hey, when you own a golden retriever I am told that your priorities can change).

What I hadn’t counted on was the poor kid getting sick.

We found where we needed to be and met the lovely lady with the keys at 0900. I then left the daughter in the bathroom while I hauled a few things up from the car. Moved the car to the parking lot and hauled up a few more boxes all the while being very grateful that I had repacked theses boxes for me to carry. And that this round of bad back was no where as serious as the last time round the pain.

Shortly after noon everyone seemed stable enough to pack into the van and head out to one of the burbs. George it seems keeps track of just about everyone including a roommate from his sophomore year at Georgetown. Me? I have this huge floating gap (high school through FM residency) which is inhabited only by one person, Carmen, whose house I stayed on Tues.

So here we are in a real house for the rest of the day. Kid is too sick to go shopping, the Gwen is thrilled to be with people who think she is special and I am just relaxing. Furniture shopping is going to be done on line. For that matter, a lot of my life now seems to be on-line!

-Holly
Palatine, IL

don’t walk anywhere. Really. The whole place is automobile dependent.

Now, admittedly we are staying in a motel near the major freeway exchange just south of I-80/90. But sidewalks? Pedestrian lights?

Not a chance. I got more than a few strange looks as I attempted to cross Mississippi St, even when there was a light. You know the kind of traffic light I mean; the one where a person going straight ahead is definitely interfering with the right of drivers to turn right any old time they please regardless of traffic conditions.

I discovered all of this after we checked in. There was a mall within vision distance so I thought I would just take a nice hike over. Bad mistake! I managed to get there, but at risk of life and limb. After cruising around the mall for a while and not finding much of anything, I hiked back. Giving up, we took the car. This particular area of town strongly resembles Rockville Pike. Same malls, same store combinations only without a decent grocery store in sight.

In nearby Hobart we saw one housing development that had sidewalks. I am sure the only reason they were there was because the regional high school was across the street. Other than that – we saw nothing anywhere that looked like a town center, nor anywhere that anyone could safely walk.

After driving around for a while we finally found the Petco, the dog is now the proud owner of dog food, drinking bowls and (from the sale table) a green holiday frog that was on half price. I am not sure why I didn’t figure out before she delightedly showed me that it squeaked.

-Holly
Merrillville, IN

Fredrick, Hagerstown, Pittsburg, Youngtown and a lot of small tows whose names are unfamiliar. There are also those that I vaguely remember from driving the DC to Ft Drum route in 1990-1991.

Gwen wasn’t thrilled but rode in the back seat, the seat belt safely strapped through her harness unfairly limiting her movements (in her opinion). After her soft whining didn’t accomplish anything other than reprimands – she grudgingly gave in and napped between pit stops.

The weather has held so far, the temperatures right around freezing no matter which temperature scale you favor without precipitation. The traffic has not been heavy and I will say that there are definite advantages to toll roads over local driving with lost people and lots of stop lights. I am ignoring my back which is not particularly happy with long driving hours at a stretch which is the explanation for not pushing through in 1 day and getting this over.

We are staying at LaQuinta’s. First, an aside about the expensive and snooty hotels which are the main stay of the upper end business traveler. You know when you are in one of those places: there is fancy name small bottles of product in the bathrooms; they are over decorated and under heated; you are charged for breakfast served by an individual of any race with the mandatory French name tag; and, of course, you are charged for internet at a seriously overflated price per 24-hour period.

La Qunita’s, on the other hand, is your average US chain motor lodge along the by-ways and highways of the Interstate Highway system. Like it’s fellow chains – Comfort Inn, Holiday Inn Express – it features drive-up unload yourself service. The registration people have ordinary US names like Brenda, June, Ahmed, Maria, Kahl, and Vekesha. Friendly and accommodating, they let you check in a couple of hours early when you look exhausted. Some, like Brenda, are Army brats who are in the Jessup area because her mother retired out of Ft Meade a number of years ago. Other, like Ahmed, moved to the US as a child when his parents immigrated. June and her husband have been living in Ohio their entire lives and working at this particular location for over a decade.

Breakfast is included, the rooms are neat and scrupulously clean, the WiFi is free and breakfast is included. What is most important, they are pet friendly. The rules, which you sign on registration are clear and simple: keep the animal under control and out of food, exercise and pool areas; don’t leave it alone to create a fuss; clean up after it.

What is not to like?

LaQuinta Inn – Jessup, MD

Ms Soprano and the four footed blond arrived safe and sound.

George had driven them to the airport in Frankfurt this morning their time. Checking them in at his ticket counter (something about being that frequent a flyer means that they are willing to let him use the VIP lane to take care of family members even when he is not flying.

On my end, I had spent the morning repacking all of the boxes of her “stuff” which had been unceremoniously dropped off at Carmen’s. Condensing them down just by doing a more efficient job of packing wasn’t all that hard. Loading them into the van wasn’t even all that difficult.

The Hertz rental people were extremely nice and apologetic. They obviously had not expected the almost new van I had rented to start flashing a “maintain me and give me oil” light at me shortly after I left the airport. Certainly it made sense not to drive it to Chicago without relieving its anxiety. And, while I was at it, I got to swap for a van that was not all fancy electronics…. The very nice guys in the return yard moved the boxes for me, adjusted the seat and let me leave the loaded van there while I went and met the flight.

It might have been a pain to switch vans, but I didn’t have to pay for the extra fuel or parking while doing picking up the blonds so I probably came out ahead.

We hit the road for the first hotel. I am wiped, the daughter just finished up her emails and the four-footed one is bored.

George was kind to me this morning. Considering that my back is recovering slowly from my latest bit of stupidity (hint – if you are going to do something non-intelligent  like yank an overloaded laundry basket off the floor it really helps to not be standing on the pair of blue jeans you are firmly gripping so that they don’t slide off the top. Some how the effect is something like – wham – the basket doesn’t lift  and the back goes zing/burn…..)

Back to the train. Getting dropped in Mannheim meant that I didn’t have to drag a suitcase from one track to another with only five minutes between trains. Instead, I could roll to the right track, take the elevator up and get on the waiting train with plenty of time to spare.

It was after I checked in with British Airways that things started to be challenging. About 15 minutes prior to boarding, I noted that my flight had disappeared off the gate and another flight was now using this particular area. Asking, I was informed that the flight was delayed. About two hours delayed which just about matched my connection time in London.

I headed back to the ticket counter (back through Passport Control and looking sadly at security as I passed. There were all these people checking in and dropping off bags, but no one at the actual ticket counter. Met this lovely woman working there. She agreed that I was not likely going to make my connecting flight and the later BA one was fully booked. Did I need to go to London?

Ah, no. I could skip London.

Couple of minutes of key clicking followed by – If I would like, she could rebook me onto United 933 and I could fly from Frankfurt directly to Dulles. Only catch is that the flight doesn’t leave till 1700.

Took me about no seconds to decide that was a much better deal and another 15 minutes for her to do all the involved paperwork.

British Airways is in Terminal 2. United is in Terminal 1. Finding them in the center section, they were happy to get me checked in and make sure that my bag was located and transferred to their flight. I turned down the chance to upgrade for 435E (that is a bit much) and would have happily done it for 15000 miles (a good deal) but they could not take Lufthansa Miles, only United Miles. (BTW, a friend on the west coast has been willing to offer me miles, but given the 9 hours of time difference by the time he was up and said it was cool I was already boarded and settled).

There is a Lufthansa Lounge in Terminal Z which I got to use.<

The flight was fine but I didn’t get in till 2030 and picked up the rental van at 2115 which means that it is closing fast on 2300….

According to my watch – it is fast approaching 0500 in the morning. That means I have been up for 23 hours. I think it might just be time to sleep.

-Holly
Wheaton, MD

So there I am in Zurich looking to return to Frankfurt.

Since one of the other members of the Aeris crew is headed through Frankfurt on the same flight before changing planes/airlines/whatever to go home (California) I opt to take up David’s offer on sharing his cab and save a number of minutes off the Tram ride to the Airport.

He can go through the high class security rat run designed for those important enough to have gold cards. I go through the peon gate. This is Switzerland. They are precise and don’t offer courtesy to those not entitled. As it turns out, our flight is not exactly near the lounge and we meet back up in the gate area.

At boarding we part ways – he is in the front, I am just glad for a seat on the plane and to find that it is not in the last row in front of the latrines.

Frankfurt – the Lufthansa arrival lounge in Terminal “B” is for inbound international customers, not the rest of us mortals. I hang out at the USO and wait till Maus arrives.

She is easy to spot. Long blond hair, grinning face and towing frosted green suitcases. She was right on the color – nothing like it anywhere on the baggage carousel.

We make the train back with a minute to spare, change in Mannheim and are picked up by the Eldest. All happy to be home.

I think that I have mentioned it before – that once the first challenge starts going sideways everything else gets even more exciting.

It was raining in Heidelberg.  For example – I was headed to Zurich this morning. Flying for some odd reason (something about the plane not costing all that much more than trainfare and needed to be back in time to meet Maus in Frankfurt around noon tomorrow). The Eldest kindly drops me at the train station and I buy a ticket. Deciding to catch a slightly earlier connection to Mannheim than the normal connector it means that I should have 12 minutes between trains rather than the usual five. Train leaves late, in fact it leaves at the scheduled time for the S-Bahn. Since the S-Bahn leaves after us it was probably a good choice as the ICE has just about finished boarding in Mannheim as I dash up.

Like a good air travel passenger, I have preprinted my boarding pass which turns out to have done me no good. Getting to the security area, the nice guy tells me that my flight has been cancelled. Back up stairs to Lufthansa ticketing where the gate keeper tells me security is wrong; she has no record of the flight being cancelled. It is a Swiss Air flight, I inform her – booked with a Lufthansa number. Ok, she gives me a customer number. Awaiting my turn – yes, it seems that flight is cancelled. The weather in Switzerland is rapidly deteriorating and flights are being cancelled. What is more, I can standby for the 1500 flight, but there is not a free seat till 1700. Since we need to be at the dinner partly before I would arrive in at the Zurich airport, this is a non-starter. And no, they have already started boarding the 1155 – I can’t standby for that one (1130 here).

Ok, I take the standby card and slide through security (Frequent Traveler status with Lufthansa gets you through the Business Class line). The 1500 gate is A25. Just for a lark I stop at A21 where the 1155 is just about done boarding. The lovely woman at the counter looks at me when I explain that I am standby for the 1500, but wonder if there is room on this flight to standby. No – no checked luggage. She has no clue but asks. Turns out that since there are still seats she is more than willing to seat me. I am the last one but two on the plane, the door closes. We taxi out.

The flight is fine till we hit the Alps. Let us just leave it with the fact that turbulence was significant enough to shut up all the screaming babies. After trudging from the furthest gate in Zurich I managed to find the #10 Tram and get to the Hauptbahnhof by the nice leisurely method of traveling through the rain past all sorts of uninteresting buildings and neighborhoods. Finding that I could have gotten off several stops sooner and not walked the wrong way around the block.

Oh, well – got there, went to dinner, took photos, got back to the hotel.

Never did get a chance to try my new frequent traveler card at the Lufthansa Lounge.

 

Ok, color me stupid or something for expecting better out of the Volksopern – after all it is Vienna leaving me with a belief that things should be excellent. I should have known when the lovely woman that I met for lunch shook her head and recommended ear plugs and going to the Opera House on standby.

Or I really should have known from the hotel people who raised their eyebrows. But in any case, we went, we survived and we arrived home safe and sound.

There are advantages to short trips including the fact that, expensive as it is, parking at the airport is cheaper when you are only going to be gone a couple of days than round-trip train fare for two.

Madam Butterfly by Puccini

You know the story? 3 acts worth of

1) Naval Officer with the Consultant in Japan rents house and contracts with 15 year old Japanese girl for marriage. Later – he takes off since he always intended to and marry a proper American wife

2) she waits for him -

3) the coward that he is -he tries to sneak in the back door and pick up his son (hello? take home a mixed race child of your husbands? I don’t think so……). Distraught from being abandoned – she turns over the boy and kills herself.

Before we go any further, let me give you a little more background so you will understand my point of view. Your concurrence is not required of course; just that sometimes what seems completely stupid on the surface is….. even more so when you think about it. The Opera was written in 1904 by an Italian who, by any account has never been to the far east, made no study of the culture and demonstrates this clearly in his concept of characters and plot. He based it on stories by others (can you spell white European male?) and scholar’s aside – given the attitude toward mixed race anyone held by Europeans I have real doubts as to the veracity of that particular event, especially in the 1880s. (Shall we leave out his personal, repressible behavior in terms of having affairs and otherwise not being a pillar of society?)

This performance at the Volksopern, Vienna was staged with more than full cast and orchestra. Orchestra being defined in this case as a good band diluted by 36 excess strings, an excellent harpist and 4 bored men with bases. Pucinni likes strings. I don’t. Woodwind sections are good; this one was fine which was good since we had the pleasure of being on that side of the theater and spared the brass. However, with Puvcinni it probably didn’t make a difference. He is enamored of strings which means that I was surprised that the brass and percussion sections managed to stay awake for their five minutes of involvement peppered into 2 hours of music. Strings would not be so incredibly annoying if we hadn’t been in lodge seating and were treated to an unrestricted view of excessive body english to the point of flipping feet up and down on the part of one violinist.

I am a recovered flutist of the old school variety – the one that says body english is distracting and a waste of energy that should be better channeled into the music. Bobbing, swaying and writhing in ones chair are not a sign of emotional playing – they are a public exhibit of lack of taste.

Gee – no opinions or digressions here or anything! Back to the performance.

The Volksopern has a standard stage with good mechanics which the director used to advantage. The center stable section had a “Japanese” like building with side panels used to good effect. The outer ring rotated bringing in settings and props. The minimalist props and set pieces were fine.

The actors on the other hand – well just let me leave it with there were an awfully lot of people wandering here and there with no real purpose at the beginning as well as in numerous crowd scenes. It is not that they were needed for chorus work – they were just bodies. Inaccurately dressed bodies. If you are going to portray an era – please be consistent. Don’t mix 1860s with 1880s with 1910 in women’s clothing (all of the silhouettes were wrong and not a corset, bustle or pannier in the herd). Modern foot gear is not a good idea, especially combined with ties (not cravats). Just because you put a straw hat on a kid doesn’t mean that he/she is dressed appropriately for the time.

Shall we just ignore the modernization portion at the end? Crowds again, this time in modern dress – hanging out, staring. Mannequins would have been preferable and more lifelike. To finish it off Pucinni as narrator physically involved with his own opera? Stumbling around with a cane which I guess was supposed to hint at the wheelchair which was his main mode of mobility.

I actually don’t mind the Italian. I don’t know enough Italian to be irritated at the triteness of the lines and story. Put over-titles for subtitles (German) at the top of the theater arch and the little remaining mystery is gone. Stupid story, decent voices often drowned out by the orchestra. Sopranos cut clearly through everything – altos and baritones not so.

George’s take on it was simple – not a good performance. He found the lack of balance coupled with the staging = the worst of the many performances of this opera he has seen. Given that Madam Butterfly ranks right up there at #8 on the world-wide most performed operas, there are more than a few chances to hear it.

I was relieved to catch the S-bahn back to the hotel, have a decent nights sleep and fly comfortably home today.

According to the printed list I got from the machine in the lounge – I just went over the bar required for Frequent Traveler Status on Lufthansa for next year. It is pretty funny that I wound up getting more miles for the little spent on this found trip than I did for my last NY-Frankfurt run…..

It is not like I intended on walking street after street when I headed out of the hotel this morning intending to see a museum or two. I had even asked for directions from the Bell Captain – getting the “go right and then go right” in response to an inquiry about walking toward city center.

Really, I bear absolutely no resemblance to all of you who just happen to have a Y chromosome. I will ask for directions. Sometimes, occasionally, or when desperate enough. Now, let us add in the question of “when” one needs to turn right – or how many right turns are actually involved. It just might have been smart to ask for a specific location of the hotel on the map before I headed out the door now wouldn’t it?

You know what is coming already don’t you? I didn’t turn right as soon as I should. Continuing in what I thought was the correct direction, my street eventually came to a T with a major road. There just happened to be a streetcar line and multiple lanes. Not being a complete fool – I pulled out my map with rapidly stiffening fingers.

(aside – did I mention that it was cold and damp this morning? Temperatures above freezing but nothing to write home about. The knitter here did not pack either hat or hand coverings. )

Finding my current location was a bit south of where I needed to be: all right – I was walking away from the river rather than toward the Donau, I finally turned right and headed along this outer right back toward the city coming within two blocks of where I started before branching off into new territory.

I love the architecture – a combination of graceful palaces and reconstruction with enough detailing and trim to make even the newer buildings appear as if they date from the 1800s-early 1900s. Of course, there are a number of the quick slab permacrete thrown up at the end of World War II as rapid replacements for structures bombed beyond restoration.

By hook, crook and frequent looks at my map I managed to get myself to the Naschmarkt. Again, completely wrong direction but at least I knew where I was. By heading to Karlsplatz, going under the streets via the U-Bahn entrance I was able to land on Opernstrasse which took me to Opern Ring. At this point, I had enough sense to figure that I was still south of where I wanted to be which meant left was the correct direction.

I walked along the ring past hurrying people, souvenir shops and the occasional meter maid spreading joy, cheer and tickets to the Museum area where I encountered medium size herd of tour buses. From destinations as close as Salzberg and Prag to more distant Netherlands, Italy and Northern Germany it seemed that the Christmas Market ranks right up there with the Museums as a must see stop on their itinerary.  Even this early in the day, the booths in this particular outdoor market set up between the Natural History and Art Museums were packed with customers. Roasted chestnuts, sizzling waffles and the scent of Gluwein hung on the air.

After carefully thinking over the 20 Euros in my pocket I elected to continue on my route, zig-zagging over two streets and following along till I reached the Rathaus U-Bahn stop before heading right toward the Rathaus and yet another collection of holiday booths.  After navigating the square, I settled in at Cafe Einstein to wait on a friend. We are meeting this afternoon to exchange some books and enjoy a cup of coffee.

The 
Volksopera is on the agenda for the evening. We may even be a bit Viennese and have a bite to eat after the performance.  Since I am now a bit more sure of myself after walking for almost three hours around the city, I may just attempt the kilometer between here and there on foot rather than on public transportation. After all – I will have a couple of hours to find it.

I have been here before, just this past May to be exactly.

The city of Wien always has fascinated me with its combination of old world charm, areas of modernization and a bit of arrogance. Think of Paris – only without the French. There is a certain underlying belief that everything here is just a little bit better. That if you are not Austrian, specifically Viennese, you just don’t understand.

Unlike other major cities, there is a friendliness and willingness to help others. Asking for directions actually gets you useful information. If your German is Deutsch rather than Austrian, that is taken into account and there is no one looking down their nose at you. You can sit for hours in a cafe without the waitstaff impatiently trying to run you off.

You can even be late for a reservation at a busy restuarant and they will try to accommodate you.

What am I doing here? George had some meetings today and a board meeting tomorrow. The marginal cost of my joining him was the airfare since hotel, local transportation and even some meals are covered. I do enjoying learning about some of the new technology in the pipeline and there is the occasional fascinating person. My normal role as *doubting Thomas* serves to occasionally inject some reality and common sense into the flights of fancy indulged in by the creator of the new and different.

I promise to get a video of the bubble bear and send it on as soon as I am back in Heidelberg. He seemed to strike a cord in all of us who have lived in that particular neighborhood at some point in our lives.

Remember all those fun lies TSA spread when they first introduced the whole body scanners?

Like you had privacy? Or that they would have only women looking at women’s scans? Or that the scans would not be visible to random passerbys?

And if you believe that, I want to offer you a skiing vacation at Miami Airport.

First, the TSA employees are nice and courteous. Second, the scanning screen at concourse G at the back of the scanner is visible to the young man working there (as well as anyone else who is packing up their computers). And then there is the matter of the two old geezers situated behind a bass screen with monitors carefully scrutinising all the scans. The only way that any privacy might be maintained is that they may not have terrific vision. The flip side of my rant is that anyone might become blinded after viewing overweight US bodies through a scanner all day.

At least there is free WiFi at the Miami airport…..

There are times that various bits of songs, lyrics or music stick in your head. As I checked into the airport in Panama and noticed again that I had a plane change in Houston that is exactly what happened.

Going Back to Houston has lyrics I believe by Bobby Bare but was mostly made famous by that old crooner Dean Martin. The YouTube link I have provided dates from 1965. Although what looking cool in a tuxedo has to do with being a lonely bum on the road in bad clothes and holely shoes is beyond me.

Anyway, I am not even sure that I have ever been in Houston before.

The mountains and hills of Panama passed lush and green beneath the wings of my plane as we soar north and east toward the United States.  Flocks of clouds like wooly sheep dot the landscape with the occasional sparkle and glint of as light reflects off vehicles and windshields winding their way along steep and narrow track roads below.  Flying over Gatun, the locks, the reservoir lake all muddy from the recent rain and run off, I spot the steady parade of ships headed to the Atlantic.  Vanishing quickly behind us, the ground below is rapidly covered by a thicker blanket of clouds. The end of the line of ships will shortly be replaced by those headed for distant far eastern destinations as we fly over the harbor and out over the Caribbean.

The plane is full, my camera is in my bag. I have iPod, bookreader and knitting for the flight.

Deplaning in Houston doesn’t do anything for the song stuck in my head, nor do I seem to please the security people as I eschew the full body scanner in favor of a pat down. Just to make sure that I don’t ever get comfortable, Continental changes my outbound three times (including two terminal changes) just to keep me entertained during the wait.

Since wifi is not free, knitting had to suffice.   It is at the point of finishing one project and wanting to start the next that I realize I left a printed pattern on the last flight.  Reorganizing the bag again, out comes my Hoxbro shawl for a few rows (200+ rows feels like forever).  I will have to find a different choice since smaller is better on planes.

By the time I arrive in Miami, it is almost 2300. Using the airport phone, I find out that the LaQuita shuttle is on its last run and my luggage has not yet arrived. There is also a difference between blue and yellow cabs I am informed by the dispatchers as I have to stand aside in the cab line while dozens after me are sent on their merry way. Since there seems to be only one of the correct color, I offer to share with the other soul who is attempting to get to a local hotel. Good deal for the cabby since he is paid by passenger rather than metered run.

A/C to stave off the hot and humid air. Clean sheets and waffles for breakfast at LaQuinta. What more could I want? Oh, yes – the free wifi works.

La Quinta Inn, Miami Airport East

There is a small exercise room here at the hotel: several bike spinners, a regular Exercycle, one treadmill and a small number of free weights. TV blasting away on one wall and the A/C on another. Hardly room for the three of us in there to turn around, much less spend time, but we managed.

Otherwise, a nice breakfast buffet was overwhelmed by echoing voices and happy, loud chatter as was the lobby. All I can say is that most of the other guests are from the local region. They are wearing bright colors, short sleeves and the vocal volume is incredible augmented by generous hand and arm gestures.

Sliding to the far end of the room, I watch amused while drinking my kaffe con leche. It is a pleasure to have good coffee. One of my few serious complaints about that particular RCI ship – the coffee was abysmal.

Over the day I caught up on my email accounts, hiked the area and knit. Watching the ships pass through the locks is amazing. As you might have noticed yesterday – it is next to a several story building that you really get a perspective on how big the ships really are. Even the container ships, stacked to seven or more layers just tower over everything around them.

It is off early to the airport for my long (read many hours on a layover in Houston) flight to Miami.

Holiday Inn, Clayton, Panama

Signing up for a tour and airport drop off seemed like a good idea prior to the cruise. I really had no idea where the ship was docking (Colon, Panama) in relation to my hotel and it seemed like the cost of a taxi was going to be the same price as the bus. Additionally, according to the website, my hotel was a km from the airport. That turns out to be true – just not the International Airport. But anyway -

My 86 year old exercise companion was the only other person in the Fitness Center this morning at 0500. By 0600 I was through my 50 minutes, and upstairs saying goodbye to friends and having breakfast in order to make the 0700 meeting time.

It wasn’t exactly 0715 when we headed out the door, but close enough. Turns out the tour included the Panama Canal (one set of locks and a stop at the Vistor’s Center on the Pacific end of the Canal to see the double locks in operation), a drive around Panama City and a stop at a Mall.

The first of several considerations have to be kept in mind: the Atlantic is north and the Pacific is south. This means that the Canal actually runs from Southeast to Northwest since Panama is horizontally rather than vertically positioned relative to the main body of North American. I also had to bring a number of unrelated facts together. Since I am a public health type – remembering the effects of Yellow Fever and Malaria on the building of the canal was easy to bring to mind. Not being an economist – I guess I hadn’t really thought through the commercial requirements for transportation across the Panama Isthmus. Gold Rush? Travel 50 miles across Panama or all the way across the US/Mexico? No brainer there, even it was hacking your way through jungle.

Build a railroad? Makes sense. Build a canal and cut a 3-4 week journey down to a couple of days – another resounding duh. Leaving aside all the issues of illness, road construction, housing construction, dams, and the requirement to deal with all the elevation changes – it is a pretty amazing.

The next consideration to keep in mind is that the Panama Canal is not a straight and simple canal like those with which you might be familiar (Erie, northern Germany, Netherlands) where the entire canal is just dug out, fitted with locks and provides a water route from here to there. This canal combines constructed portions with a large amount of reservoir lake that requires continual dredging and buoys to keep ships on course as they travers its length. As a result, the average ship takes almost 24 hours to navigate the 50 miles.

After stopping at the Miraflores lock – we headed to Gatun and the visitors center. Watching as ships are towed into the locks then out, bound toward the Atlantic.  

Unlike most paired locks else where, the narrow channel on the one side prevents ships from easily passing each other.

The end result is that, although the Canal operates 24 hours a day – Atlantic bound traffic ends at 1200 and Pacific bound traffic then takes over. It also means that there is a significant amount of water wastage as one lock can not be pumped over to the other lock (one ship going up as the other goes down). At the double lock – both ships are headed in the same direction but can only be moved out of the lock one at a time due to the size of the channel.

Driving through Panama City in the rain –

. Our guide mentioned that the Pacific side times caused a variation as much as 18 feet with the resulting pretty ugly mud flats and cruise ships operating tenders.

I will skip the mall – it was large, new, echoing and full of shops just as you would expect.

From there we headed to the airport where all but 7 of us got off the bus. As it turned out, the bus barn was located less than 1 miles from my hotel and the driver said he would be happy to drop me off on his way back. Imagine my surprise when 20 minutes after an intermediate stop to leave the rest of the crew downtown I wind up across the major road from the Miraflores lock.

The WiFi is free and the customer service is excellent. Maybe because it is part of the training program of the Panama International School of Hotel Management? In any case, I watch the canal and locks from my fifth floor window.

I went next door to the Locks Cantina for a lovely dinner. The only alcohol free beer they have is Becks ….  but that is more than made up for by the wonderful gazpacho and vegetables. My waiter has been working there for 40 years. He clearly remembers the US Army, Ft Clayton. Yes, they take credit cards he assures me, but tips are always better in cash.

As the sun comes up in the morning the sea colour changes to the most amazing shade of blue. Knowing the science behind it (lots of particulates in the water reflecting back the light and the sky) doesn’t detract at all from my enjoyment of the endless sea and white froth splashing away.

At night, the ship is moving through what appears to be an endless tunnel. Below us is reflective black with white spray and droplets dancing close to the ship. Lights from the portholes below deck 5 glimmer on the sea. The air hangs heavy and humid; warm and enveloping. Over head a patch work of clouds obscures most of the stars so that forward motion is only detectable in the rocking of the ship and the movement of the spray away from the ship’s sides.

That covers the sea. Now on to the ship and water. This ship, like most cruise ships, has an onboard desalinisation plant and makes almost all of its water. Apparently they use fluoride rather than chlorine to accomplish sterilisation after filtration. Similar to military camps (and unlike cities) waste water is divided into grey and black water.

Everything comes down to money and regulations. The ship has holding tanks with a 48 hour capacity. More than 48 hours at dock and they have to hook into city sewer and pay accordingly. What is probably obvious is that ships discharge directly into the ocean when outside the International limits. Black water (true sewages which means toilets) is first treated. Grey water – everything else from sinks and showers to swimming pools, dishwashing and laundry. Since there should be no contamination issues – can be released directly.

Neither the Captain nor Chief Engineer at the particular information lecture delved into garbage, but sea dumping has to be part of the agenda for organics. Certainly just about everything else is recycled.

This is my last day on the ship, tomorrow we dock before 0700. All those friends I have made on this cruise will head home as I head back to my regularly scheduled life. Paperbacks will replace the ubiquitous ebook reader which has become the standard of cruisers everywhere (why carry 1-5 books when you can, for barely a couple of ounces have hundreds of books in your pocket).

Today, relaxation – tomorrow Panama.

at 11:11 this morning the ships Captain called for a minute of silence and reflection. Silence descended. All around me there were young people with curious expressions on their faces just standing there while grey haired heads all around me were bowed in remembrance. Most than one button hole was sporting a poppy purchased from young soldiers yesterday in Bridgetown.

It was a long time ago that war that was not the Great War, for no war is great. It was also not the War to end all Wars. Those of us with age and experience can think of all those lost to battle, wounds and illness.

I am grateful to be a Veteran no longer on active service. Military service is best performed by those young and fit.

May we as elders have sense, compassion and a commitment that does not allow us to squander young lives for foolish reasons and pride.

And then there is Bridgetown Barbados. British complete with right hand drive cars and an upper crust accent by those who are educated. According to several locals with whom I spoke, the town is turning more and more to tourism as a key part of the economy. The downstream effects are not insignificant.

For those who are students of American history – it was at Bridgetown, Barbados in 1751 where George Washington became ill with and survived Smallpox. There are statues, there is the former Trafalgar Square.

And there is Nidhe Israel Synagogue. Constructed ~ 1648 it was the first in the New World. Built by Sephardic Jews leaving Portugal (the Inquisition made that land a not particularly nice place to be) and augmented years later by Jews expelled from England at the high point the community numbered close to 700. The community was an interesting mix of Jews, Marranos, and Conversos.

Due to the efforts of the defendants one family of Jewish Polish immigrants (1930s) – the building was rescued from distraction in the 1980s and reconstructed as a Museum. The Mikvah was discovered with the excavation of the car park several years later. The cemetery, dating from the 1600s is still in use.

The port is St Johns. Unfortunately, there are the usual cruise sponsored jewellery and other shop areas to wade through in an attempt to see what there is to see of the city itself. Once even a couple of blocks away from the port the sense of the neighbourhoods, the dress of the people and the fanciness of the cars rapidly disappears.

Just like in St Maartens – tourism, especially the cruise ships, forms the backbone of the industry and income of the area. Agriculture accounts only for a small amount and there is minimal manufacturing. Fishing doesn’t even seem to be all that popular.

I skipped the tours, the beaches and did not risk taking the public bus across the island as we had a 1300 departure. Nothing like a risk of getting left behind to increase anxiety.

Originally settled by a native tribe, the Arawak were just about gone by the time the Spanish (Columbus by sailing by and claiming the island), the French and the Dutch in combination, serially and sequentially laid claim to the island. Since the Spanish never really controlled the island – it is not surprising that, at the end that the island is controlled by the French on one side and the Dutch on the other.

Today – the French side is administered and overseen by the French government. The Gendarmerie comes directly from France and is provided housing, schools and support for the tours (accompanied by families) in this far away from Paris location. The currency is Euros, the license plates are French (complete with EU symbol). In contrast, the Netherlands side is part of the Netherland Antilles reorganisation. Support is present, but the country is quasi independent. The currency is the US$, the language is Dutch, but English is defacto spoken.

I walked around Philipsburg in the morning visiting various locations, shops and finishing at the Museum.

In the afternoon, I took the bus over to Marigot – the capital on the French side. True to their spirit as tour operators – we stopped in a tourist market area rather than the main shopping and city area for the locals. with only 45 minutes off the bus, I didn’t get to the museum.

(pictures to be added when I can upload)

and it is Monday. I know it is Monday by the fact that I can see the day and date on my watch. We have already survived four hours of clock turn back and not missed any meals.

Breakfast is fine with melon, musli and coffee. Lunch I am limiting myself to soup and salad which means that I can indulge myself at dinner.

One of the advantages of fixed seating at dinner (which can also turn out to be a horrible disadvantage) is that you have dinning companions. If you are travelling with family/friends it might not matter. Traveling by myself, it has turned out to be a fun and fascinating experience.

At my table is a Russia couple. Dimitri speaks Russian. He does not acknowledge speaking anything else – even so – I know that he follows both German and English quite well. Tatyana speaks Russian and German (University translator) so she spends part of each meal translating for him. Victoria is Romanian – but has lived the last 40 years in Berlin (West). Her German is clear, she also wants to work on her English. We have a couple from Rhode Island (both of whom are originally from Boston – complete with accent). They met originally through their jobs as registered medical laboratory technicians. Denise has just retired after more than a few years working Chem/Hemotology. Dave is still working in a immunology lab on one of the VA cancer projects. Finally – we have a Canadian couple from Calgary. Richard retired a few years ago and Donna has just hung up one of her many jobs in the last couple of years. She is a former travel agent and obviously a love of travel is still ongoing.

What is also obvious, not just with this particular group – is that repositioning/transatlantic travellers are usually not not first time cruisers. You have to be in a certain mindset in order to really appreciate the long time it takes to get somewhere (along with the fact that it quite reasonably priced). Sea days really have to be your thing, and you can’t be really easily bored.

It is now back to the knitting and classical guitar in the Atrium.