TRAVEL WITH HOPI

A few hours to go

2011-12-04T08:00:00.001+05:30

I must apologize for the last entry. I wrote it off line. When I tried to copy it, it would not copy properly. No matter how many times I tried to fix it, it just got worse and finally after thirty minutes I gave up. It costs forty cents a minute, and it seemed ridiculous to spend that kind of money on something that could be read as is.

Speaking of minutes on the computer, it has been a real problem on board. I am frankly addicted to my telephone and computer being connected at all times. Here it feels like I stepped back in time. How quickly one becomes accustomed to new technology.

When I do a crossword, I need the data on my phone. I don't know any of the new fangled groups, singing groups that is. I figure if I look them up often enough I will remember the answer the next time it appears.

Of course it also a problem, because you can't use your telephone either. So it is like the early 80s. But you don't have a chance to send a telegram either and you have to sit in the library to get information.

e;

The Ship

2011-12-01T01:04:00.009+05:30

The ship is the length of three and a half football fields. There is a jogging path at the top of the ship and all day people are walking and running around the deck. There is a big fitness center with everything from spinning on bikes to yoga. It’s open 24 hours a day. So there is no excuse not to exercise. However it takes a lot of time to walk from one end of the ship to the other, thus just going to a meal is usually quite a walk.

There is a spa and massage center. I took the body
massage and since then I have been in more leg and hip pain than before I boarded. There is even acupuncture but it is done by a 25 year old girl, so I have my doubts to its efficacy. Perhaps I’m being too picky.

There are at least four restaurants where what you
eat is included in the cost. The others range from $10 to $25 a head. The most frequented is the Teppanyaki which has 20 seats around a hibachi where the chef cooks in front of you. Though the cooks are fun to watch, because they jump around a lot and make a lot of noise, food is about average. I must admit the steak was the best so far on board. However, the rice was not sticky and couldn’t be eaten with chopsticks. The cooks were Filipinos, not Japanese. There wasn’t a single Japanese customer in the bunch. I know from people in my family that the food was not up to Japanese standards.

People line up at the two main common restaurants,
Aqua and Venetian. The cooks and the waiters are also Filipinos. Frankly, most of the workers on board come from the Philippines. Though the waiters are friendly, they are not professional: they interrupt when you’re talking, if you smile ainnd listen to them, thy start telling you about their own lives. When I’m eating I don’t want to listen to some person’s personal problems.

More information later.

Aboard

2011-12-01T00:43:00.002+05:30

Everyone had their photo taken as they boarded. Here are two innocents abroad.

Then we were supposed to meet the Captain. I felt sorry for the guy having to be nice to people he didn't care about. Smile, Captain, you're on candid camera. Oh yeah, we had to buy the photo. Everything on board is for sale.

Leaving Miami

2011-11-30T19:44:00.001+05:30

This is going backwards, but what to do? The online internet is not only slow, but also unpredictable. I feel that I have stepped back 5 years on internet technology.

This ia a photo of Miami as we left. Our stateroom is aft, which means the end of the ship. So I can look out and see where we have been.

The ship, called the Norwegian Dawn is enormous, holding on this trip more than 2000 people. I can't even imagine how difficult it is to feed that number, keep them occupied, and keep the ship clean. But most of the staff is from the Philippines. A few are from Bangladesh and other developing countries, but no one is from the West. What was this about exporting jobs? Probably they can't afford western pay scales and their pensions.

Caribbean Cruise: Day One

2011-11-27T01:18:00.003+05:30

Going through registration and running through security was quick and easy. Then the fun started.Gather in a restaurant and meet your concierge, ours is Virginia. She has nine butlers, which were called valets when we signed up online. I don't think I would have taken a butler. Aren't they always the murderer in the mysteries? Then there are a myriad of rules and regulations to be read off, which no one paid any attention to.

We met a couple from Canada. This is their 10^th cruise and the 2^nd one this year. A cruise groupie.

Finally the rooms were ready and we toddled off to view ours. It’s very nice. A small balcony with two chaise lounges, a big double bed, that is much more comfortable than ours at home and I don’t need to have a step ladder to get into it. A big TV with many news channels and a couple of movie channels. A large bathroom and plenty of cupboard space. There is a sitting area and a table with four chairs. Very nice. Of course, flowers and fruit greeted us and the steward, by the name of Mo, was already angling for a tip. He was sad, weeping about being overworked and telling us the tale of his family.

We decided to take a look around the ship before dinner. What a mistake!! At the pool there was a band screaming music and everybody jumping up and down. Forced merriment. I thought that if the whole ship is like this I am over the side.

The first night at the common dining room, the Venetian, steak was on the menu. It wasn’t bad. Actually it was quite good.

Getting a Mortgage

2011-11-17T10:45:00.000+05:30

I have had to get a mortgage three times in my life, and it usually went like this. I walk into the bank, the bank has me fill out a few documents and I walk out with the mortgage. Things have changed a lot.

First I filled out the documents, then had to set the interest rate, then I paid $400 to hold it for two months. That was 8 weeks ago. One more week and we lose the interest. If we don't get the mortgage I have to pull out more than $130,000 to pay the mortgage off. Yuk!!!!

But it came through today and Monday we sign the papers. Yippee!!!

Greece and its Debt

2011-11-02T19:40:00.000+05:30

Once upon a time in the world of finance, Germany and France got together and decided to adopt a common currency, the Euro. Thus was born the Euro zone. Ah, but they needed others to join the zone, otherwise there would be no trading partners, so they invited the Benelux countries, Ireland, Spain, Portugal, Italy, Greece,as well as some Eastern European countries. Whether their citizens were happy with it or not, they were encouraged, actually pushed by their own governments, to adopt the Euro as their currency. Banks and investment groups were excited the new countries to invest in, countries that were backed by Germany and the Euro.

Like errant children, Greece, Italy, Spain, Portugal and Ireland were ecstatic. They borrowed and spent, borrowed and spent to their heart's content. And no one questioned them. Then in order to pay their debts, they borrowed more until someone said no. And the financial world came toppling down.

How did they borrow? The countries created bonds, and the banks all over the world snatched them up. No one bothered to see if the countries could actually pay the bonds back.

And so we sit and watch the never ending soap opera played out in the market, on the news programs and in the newspapers. Don't we have enough problems of our own to talk about? And if the big banks were foolish enough to invest in what is now considered "Junk" bonds, let them suffer. There are hundreds of little banks that didn't make that mistake.

2011-10-31T06:06:00.000+05:30

I talked to my physical therapist, the ever happy Brandon. He gave me a better idea of what would happen and how things would occur. I would get the surgery and in one day I would be up on my feet. Then in a week I could go home.

But I have decided that going home after a week would be a mistake. Dick would take care of me, but I would be impossible. I hate being dependent on him, have always hated it. So I would rather be able to go up the stairs before I go home. In any case I will stay in the nursing home as long as necessary, even if we have to pay for it ourselves.

But

Starting the Journey to a new hip

2011-10-28T22:31:00.000+05:30

I am back on track. Today I signed up for the month at the gym, getting ready to see my physical therapist, the cheerful Brandon, saw my chiropractor, the unflappable Breitbach. I made an appointment next Thursday to talk to an orthopedic surgeon, whose name is Rillings.

This trip to get a hip replacement has not started out well. I have heard over and over that this is a nothing operation, two weeks and you're back on your feet. No problem at all.

Well, that's nonsense. It is two weeks before you can walk with a walker. A walker is not my style. Then if you're lucky the third week you can use a cane. But if you are really lucky, after six weeks you'll be back to normal.

We live in a tri-level home. The bedroom and bath are way upstairs, so if I go there I can't use the kitchen. Why? I won't be allowed to go up and down stairs for four weeks. And I'm told I will need a hospital bed. Horrible idea. Anyway, on Thursday I will beat up the surgeon and see how much of this is true.

Traveling home.

2011-10-25T18:19:00.000+05:30

I hardly slept last night, though that is common just before a flight. I got up at 6:30am and finished packing, had breakfast and left for the train to the airport. The train takes more than three hours to reach Kastrup Airport, the airport in Copenhagen. Most of the way was sunny, so the changing trees were quite spectacular. And a farmer, who raises sugar beets, even talked to me about poetry and literature. Yes, you heard me correctly, a farmer talked to me about poetry and literature.

My hip has been very painful the last few days and I didn't help matters by falling on my face while entering a shop yesterday. But we put cold packs on the joint and it's quite a bit better.

Now I'm in the airport waiting to board, which is in an hour. The airport is very modern, shiny and sparkling. For the shopper there are a lot of shops, and I shop when I need to bring presents home.

So I will close now and get on my way. See you all in Chicago.

Shopping at the Boot Market

2011-10-24T00:33:00.001+05:30

For those who are not familiar with British English, a boot is a trunk in your car. And what you see here is a Boot Market. As you can see, barely, there is a black car with its boot open.

Lots of people showed up, because this is the last sale of the season. And they don't charge taxes on what people manage to sell here. Surprise, surprise.

I loved these things. They will be filled with boiling hot water and put into your bed to warm it. It is especially good for those who don't have central heating.

If you look closely, you will see a lot of antique pots and pans. I especially loved the blue coffee pot. A typical color in the Scandinavian countries. Too bad I didn't have room in my bag. I would have bought it.

I loved this lady's hair. So I took her photo.

Last but not least, a view of the market. Quite a few people attended. Unfortunately, the number of sales people were very few, because of the cold and unpredictable weather.

Taxes in Denmark

2011-10-24T00:22:00.003+05:30

There was an article in the newspaper. The Danes are now taxing fat, fat in beef, chicken, veal and eggs, butter, cheese, even the chocolate in nuts for the birds. Naturally they say it's to stop people (and birds?)from having heart attacks due to the ingestion of fat. But I wonder. Is that the truth or do they just need more tax?

The tax authorities have found imaginative ways of finding money. If you are a bricklayer and build your own house, you have to pay a tax for the money it would have cost you to have the house built by someone else. If you help a neighbor put in a patio or do it yourself, you still have to pay a tax for the money it would have cost.

Don't misunderstand me, there are a lot of good things about having cradle to grave welfare, but it's not perfect. And this is a country with only a few more than 5 million people. How would it work for us?

The Last Night

2011-10-20T23:39:00.002+05:30

We took a train to Lisbon from Porto on the 15th of October because we were flying the next day. This was nice, because we could see some of the scenery from the window. Portugal is the size of Ohio and has approximately the same population, which is between 10 to 11 million people. There was a lot of open space with trees I had never seen before.

We arrived in Lisbon about 6pm and decided to take a taxi to the hotel I had found near the airport. We had been told it should cost between 6-8 Euros depending on the traffic. But the taxi driver had no idea where the hotel was. We gave him the address on a piece of paper and he wandered around showing the address to other taxi drivers and they all threw up their hands in obvious despair. "This place must not be very popular," I said to Dick. Eventually we got in the taxi and he did a circle two or three times before he got on the right road.

It wasn't very far, but when we reached the industrial area where the hotel was located, the taxi driver ran into two or three buildings asking for directions, leaving the meter running each and every time. Finally we called the hotel and handed the telephone to the driver, who was not happy about taking it. But the meter had already reached 15 euros, and we still hadn't arrived at the hotel. In the end the cost was 16+ Euros.

"Wow," I said to the clerk behind the reception desk, "this hotel is really hard to find. Our taxi driver had a lot of problems." "No," he answered, "they all do that. We get dozens of complaints a day about those drivers."

We decided to eat out, though I had to get up at 4am. But the hotel had no restaurant and the nearest one was a ten minute walk where a bunch of factories was located. We found it and it was only ten minutes, and the food was good. I ordered a glass of wine and got half a bottle. Dick a beer. He drank his in one gulp and then tasted my wine saying it was very good. When I decided to have a second glass, the wine was gone. I complained and Dick ordered another glass and they brought another half. Well, I had a glass and Dick finished it off.

We payed and decided to walk back. I couldn't imagine a taxi taking us in any case. As Dick got up from his chair he tripped over a step and fell on this poor woman sitting at the next table. She gave him the dirtiest look I've ever seen. When Dick righted himself, his pants fell down to the top of his femur. At that point the owner of the place came running out of the kitchen and suggested he drive us back to the hotel. We accepted willingly.

When we reached the hotel the second time, there were dozens of people lined up waiting to get into their room. So it was more popular than I had estimated.

TV in Porto

2011-10-19T15:07:00.000+05:30

When we were at the apartment in Porto we had a very nice flat screen TV. I asked if there were any English channels and Fernando, whom I secretly call Freddy because I kept wanting to call him Ferdinand, confirmed. Yes, there were many English channels, CNN, CNBC, Bloomberg TV, Al Jazeera, France 24 in English and French, RT (Russian TV) and Fox News. So I have the world news at my fingertips. But like in the US and in Europe, there seems to be little news outside of Europe, Libya, Syria and the US. I am always amazed that nothing happens in South and Central America and very little in Africa.

So what do you do with a plethora of news stations? You compare the way the news is presented, of course. There are the demonstrations in New York city. They are peaceful so we are told, but Russian TV shows the same policeman beating the demonstrators with his night stick over and over again. As does Al Jazeera.

What about the war in Afghanistan? You can imagine how Russian TV and Al Jazeera present that.

What about the civil war in Libya? Al Jazeera talks about the plight of the rebel against the government, CNN talks about how dangerous it is for the journalists to take photos. "This is a dangerous road to run in and we must be quick," says the journalists as he runs across the road. I'm thinking he must be an idiot just to be there.

Fox gives more news about the daily life in the US. A child is allegedly abducted from a house in North Carolina. They talk about mothers against abortion, the movement against gay marriage.

And the most important topic for CNN and Fox news is the upcoming presidential election, each station beating the bushes for or against candidates. It made me realize more than ever that we need open primaries, so we don't end up with a raving religious candidate in the Republican Party. I know that by the time the election takes place I will be sick to death of listening to it.

The only station that had a movie or sitcom was France 24. It worked out well, because though I can't follow French well enough to understand everything that is going on, the station had subtitles in French. One of the movies was in Canadian French, which of course, no Frenchman can understand without subtitles, and even a French movie, where some of actors are speaking in a French dialect. So I could actually get most of the dialogue.

So it was interesting. Of course, except for Russian TV and France 24 we can get all the other channels in the US. Maybe I will have a Porto day occasionally.

The Ok Guy

2011-10-18T23:26:00.000+05:30

I think one of the reasons I hate site seeing is listening to tour guides. They talk about the same thing. So and so designed it, such and such was imported, etc. We never hear about the people who actually did the manual labor, as if by some magic the cathedral arose of its own accord or the designer flashed his magic wand and there it was, the building in all its glory. And often the tour guide tells false tales as he or she is showing off their skill or lack thereof in English.

There is nothing more boring than having a tour guide who thinks she speaks perfect English. The woman at the Palacio da Bolsa prattled along. She explained that the "gold lif" on the 'ceilin" was very expensive, in fact, she said in English that in the Arab hall 22 tons of "gold lif" were used, which seemed a bit over the top. Then when she was speaking Spanish, she said 22 kilos were used. A bit of a difference there. Was it to impress or did she really make a mistake in translation?

OK GUY

At the Porto caves where Port is made, our guy said, "Port is made in casks, OK?" Port is made of wine grapes, OK?" "Port is stronger than wine,OK?" "Port has to be fortified, OK?" Therefore he was christened the "Ok Guy."

We happen to know that the British developed Port. They did it for the English public. At that time, in the 19th century, wine had to be sent by boat and could not survive the trip across the channel without being fortified. But when one of the people on the tour asked how port was developed, not a word was mentioned about the English. So much for the truth.

These are the very large casks. Port is kept in these casks for as little as 20 years and as long as 80 years.Just think. You could be born, wed, have children, have grandchildren, die and never taste the port in one of these 80 year old casks.

A Chinese Woman in Denmark

2011-10-18T15:00:00.000+05:30

Wherever we go, people tell us 'cross cultural' stories. Many are funny, many are sad, and many are just plain scary. Here goes one of those.

A young Chinese woman is studying business. She decides to do her Masters Thesis in Denmark and flies to a medium sized city with a good business school. The university staff finds her a small apartment near the university library and she moves in. The Danes tend to be stand offish, not quick to make friends of new people in the neighborhood, so young Chinese woman, lets call her Lee, had no friends. That can be problematic, because you don't know where to shop, where to get your hair cut, where to find a good doctor, dentist with out the local knowledge.

Finally after two months, someone at the university approached her and asked her how she was doing.
"I'm doing well," she answered.
"But you must be lonely," the staff lady said. "I never see you talking to anyone."
"No," Lee said, "I am too busy to be lonely. I spend time with my daughter before I go to the library and when I return home, so I am not lonely."
"Your daughter?" the staff lady gasped. "We didn't know you had a daughter. How old is she?"
"Two," Lee said smiling.
"Is she in a Creche?"
"Oh, no," Lee answered. "There was no room in the creche."
"But what do you do with her?"
"She stays in the apartment, but it's okay because I have THE CHAIR."
"The Chair?" The staff lady is almost gasping at the idea that the little girl is left alone.
"Yes," said Lee, "we have breakfast and play awhile and then I put her in the chair. Her arms are bound to the sides of the chair, and there is a hole where she can go potty. Then I turn on the TV and she watches all day. After 8 hours I come back, we have dinner and play awhile before she goes to bed."

Being Danish, the woman went out and found a place in a creche for the child, so Lee could continue studying.
When Lee was interviewed, she explained that this is quite common in China. Everyone has to work. Parents are usually in the village, so they have no choice. Either work or starve.

Cross Cultural. And the Chinese government helped out the ailing banks. So much for communism caring about their population.

Palacio da Bolsa and the Arab Hall

2011-10-17T20:41:00.000+05:30

This last day in Porto we decided to visit the Palacio da Bolsa. They wouldn't let us take photos, unfortunately, but we got the real scoop on the Palace. It was built for the "bolsa", which in English is their version of the Stock Exchange. Everything was imported from somewhere else, wood from Brazil, gold from South American, etc. One room had paintings of all their old kings. The last king, who died in 1932, ascended the throne after the assassination of his father and older brother. (A bit suspicious). He was ousted and exiled to England in 1910, where he died without an heir. But of course there are pretenders everywhere. One is in jail in Vincenza, Italy.

The piece de resistance was the Arab Hall. All done up with gold leaf on plaster and Arabic script. It was built to impress, said our guide, to show how wealthy we were. I kept thinking some of that gold leaf, 22 kilos of the stuff, which she had translated into English as 22 tons, might help them out of their problems now. http://olhares.aeiou.pt/salao_arabe_detalhe_foto895637.html I know that is ridiculous, but there you go. Look this up. It is quite beautiful.

Then we stumbled on to a gourmet restaurant right in the center of the Palace. I was a bit enraged, because no one at the hotel told us about it. There were three courses: vegetable soup, either fish, rapped in something yellow and green, which was delicious, or a risotto made with many different types of meat and caramel ice cream. All wine, coffee and mineral water was included for 15 euros per person, about $19.

Porto's Cathedral

2011-10-13T21:27:00.001+05:30

Today I was on my own and decided to visit the local cathedral. I was impressed when I saw the outside, because it was simple and clean looking. But when I walked inside I got a shock. The cathedral was obviously built in the Romanesque style; the pillars high and rounded, but everthing in the church was baroque, over the top. Except for the Baroque church in Florence, I had never seen a church so full of gold and silver. It could help the financial crisis Portugal is in.

Se Catedral Porto

The Chapel

So much Gold.

The plain pillars and rounded arches, so Romanesque.

The size of these stones How did they place one on the other in the 12C?

However the cloister was decorated with the glazed tiles I talked about yesterday depicting the songs of Solomon.

Tiles anyone?

2011-10-12T16:42:00.000+05:30

When you go sight seeing, you hear that this building is neo classic, romantic, gothic, etc. I want to know how this city differs from all the others in Europe. And in Porto the buildings are covered with tiles. Some of them make pictures and others are just designs. Some remind me of the bathroom tiles in the 50s and 60s, but others are quite beautiful.

I'm sure that many of our bathroom and kitchen tiles were copies of this in various colors.

Here is another design. Just think. You don't have to paint, just replace the tiles when they deteriorate.

Another tile. So far all in blue. I am guessing, but it is possible that this goes back to the Moroccan empire. The Moroccans ruled Portugal and a large part of Spain at one time.

Tiles are made into pictures. I quite like it.

Just to show that not all tiles are blue.

Porto 3

2011-10-10T19:58:00.000+05:30

The scene from the same window during the day.

I forgot to mention that there are two lifts in the building. Thank goodness, because we are on the 5th floor.

We have had unbelievable weather. According to the Portuguese, it should be raining in sheets with a much lower temperature. Everyone has boots and raincoats that they have yet to wear. Let's hope it stays this way until the end of the week.

One of the interesting things we saw was the fact that the Portuguese queue up for everything. I was surprised again. Yes, the British line up everywhere, even in the baggage claim to get a luggage trolley. However, in Germany, even the little old ladies get into the rush the bus or train act, poking you with the end of their umbrellas to push you out of the way. In Italy, the Italian government set up skinny long places so people were forced to line up for taxis at the airport. So it was quite refreshing to see the Portuguese use such polite ways to get around in the city. I know, Americans aren't great queuers. But then I haven't lived very long in the US.

Shopping in Porto

2011-10-09T16:31:00.001+05:30

Evening View from our Window

Like the Spaniards, the Portuguese eat at an ungodly late hour, around 9pm. So we decided to have lunch out and eat dinner in the apartment because Dick can't sleep on a full stomach. However I can. As a matter of fact, I sleep better.

We went to the central open market and there was a wonderful variety of fruits and vegetables, and we spent an hour trying to decide what to buy. Afterwards we bought a couple of steaks and some pork chops at a local butcher. Despite the language difficulties, we've been pretty successful in finding what we want.

We went to a cafe and had lattes. The milk tasted really bad but familiar. I found out it was long life milk, a product which lasts for three months without being refrigerated. I remembered that we drank this once in Italy, when we lived in Florence. I thought homogenized milk killed nutrients. What about irradiated milk used in Europe? Shocking.

So out we went to find milk. No dice. The babies and toddlers drink only soy milk, if they drink milk at all. I was shocked again. From all the medical reports I've read this stuff is lethal unless it;s fermented. Even the Japanese eat soy fermented. Dick finally found little squares of cream to use in his coffee. That was imported from Germany.

We had lunch at the Le Corte Inglese High Class Cafe and as we had discovered in other restaurants, they don't provide salt and pepper. When we asked for salt, they were terribly incensed, said it was already included in the olive oil on the salad and on the egg dish. I always wonder why people care if you want salt. I always test the food first.

We went home exhausted from walking all morning and cooked our steak with a nice salad. It was a good day.

Porto 2

2011-10-08T19:54:00.000+05:30

I arrived a day before Dick. I took a taxi to the apartment, and arrived on what I thought was one half hour late and found out it was one half hour early. Portugal is on English time rather than on continent time. Learn something new everyday. I took a shower, washed clothes and settled in.

The apartment has one half bath and one full one, a bedroom, plenty of hanging space in the closets, a full kitchen, a dining area and a small seating area. There is a flat screen TV, washer and dryer. And there is a coffee maker, and a microwave. The nice thing about an apartment is you are forced to see the daily aspects of life in the country. You buy some food in various parts of the city, use the metro, become familiar with the bus system. When Dick comes we will do some shopping together.

Porto 1

2011-10-06T20:49:00.001+05:30

The trip here was boring. Being a cripple makes life less than fun. I will go to the doctor immediately when I return home.

I have had two great weeks. Living with people who don't eat reminded me of when I was young and skipped a lot of meals. Strangely enough, after a couple of days it gets easier.

Rosemarie never made a meal, so I took her out once a day. I also bought some food as did she so I could make something for myself and her, if she felt like eating it. In the evening we sat and watched American TV translated into German or a British krimi. It helped my language a lot.

At Suzanne's we skipped breakfast, had tons of tea and usually had a small meal she made for me, but didn't eat herself, and dinner. We met the neighbor, who invited us to coffee on sweet little cups and saucers and apple cake. My Spanish is non existent so Suzanne had to translate. But I thought it was very nice of the neighbor to invite us.

Then we were invited to Angela and Chris, a British woman married to a German living in Spain. How the world has changed. We had a nice meal there as well.

Why am I so intense about food? I realize I used to be like these women. What happened? I guess I just got greedy as I got older. And I am suffering. Well, suffering is a bit exaggerated, but I will need a few more months of skipping meals to return to my normal weight.

Friends

2011-10-02T12:43:00.000+05:30

On this trip I have stayed with two old friends, women I have known since the 1960s. They are very different people.

Both women are displaced so to speak. They live in countries they were not born in. Both have married foreigners, both are divorced. Both have two children.

Friend no. 1 lives in the outskirts of Vienna. She is an American and was married to an Austrian. When I first met her, she reminded me of a bird who didn't quite know where to land. She is only more so as she ages. Kind and considerate, she goes out of her way to help her friends, her children and their families. Often she agrees to help when she really doesn't feel she is able or doesn't want to and thus often feels exploited. Then instead of sitting down and talking about it, she lashes out and everyone is angry. Learning to say no to your family and friends is as important as helping them.

Friend no. 2 is an English women who was married to a Spaniard and lives in the Basque country of Spain. Even at the tender age of 16, she knew what she wanted and how to get it. Outspoken, she doesn't hesitate to tell you what she thinks and how she feels. You always know where you stand and where she stands. Many think this is too harsh, but in my opinion it's refreshing. I don't have to figure out what she wants and what she's willing to do. She is also kind and considerate, and also willing to help others when she can. But she is a happier person, because she doesn't harbor any feelings of guilt and doesn't feel exploited.

Even after their divorces, both have stayed in the country where their children were born.

Two very good friends, two very nice people, two different attitudes toward life.

The Basque

2011-09-30T21:18:00.000+05:30

It is late on my third day here. We have been running from pillar to post meeting people, buying things I need. I left one pair of my pants in Vienna. I only have two, so it is kind of a catastrophe, but today I found a pair that fit perfectly. Very expensive, but beautifully made. I can't complain.

I was here five years ago and was surprised to see how much improvement there has been. New turnpikes, new apartment buildings, new airports. There was a building spree all right. And now there is about 20% unemployment, and the building has pretty much ceased. Most of the money I'm sure was borrowed from Germany, or the Scandinavian countries and Spain, like Greece is in the pits. I know less about Spain than Greece, because there has been little said in the newspapers and television. But in trouble they are.
'
Basque has wanted to break away from Spain and France forever. Neither will let them go. They teach Basque in the schools and all the buildings have Basque names. Yes, everyone speaks Spanish. And though it is good to keep the culture going, it is problematic as well. Only Basque people speak Basque and it ends up alongside English. Oh well, their problem.

Going to VIenna

2011-09-25T20:06:00.002+05:30

Rose Marie and Hopi

I went off to the airport with Dick by taxi and went up to the reservation to get my ticket. I handed them my print out.--- I can only say I was glad that we had arrived more than two hours in advance.--- I had made the booking for October instead of September. I could hardly believe my stupidity but then I have done such things before. I guess I was so shocked that I only spent $23 for this ticket, I forgot to recheck the date. In any case, everything turned out well. I had to pay a big fine for my stupidity but I got a seat. Then Dick ordered a wheel chair and off I went to the gate.

Going by wheelchair is great for the person being pushed. They are helped through customs, go to the front of the line when showing their passports and arrive quickly to get their bags.

Luckily I got a direct flight to Vienna and would arrive after one hour and thirty minutes, or it seemed to be luck at first. However, I had no way to communicate with Rose Marie, so I decided I would wait for her to come at 2:30 pm, four hours after I arrived.

I told Jette by text and she offered to find Rose Marie's telephone number. Not having her number is another blunder on my part. I would say it is part of growing old, but unfortunately I have always done such silly acts.

A Few Hours in Copenhagen

2011-09-23T19:04:00.003+05:30

I was so lucky. My friends Jette and Kjeld picked me up. I was wondering how I would manage the luggage on the train. We drove back to Copenhagen and ran straight into a week long bike race. I mean really. Why can't these races be in the countryside. Imagine blocking a city for bikes!!

In the meantime, their granddaughter, Anna, kept us all laughing with her antics. At least it made the time fly faster while watching hundreds of bikers pedaling away.

We arrived at the Omega hotel at 3pm and couldn't get in. I tried the code over and over again. I thought maybe I'd forgotten it, because I memorized it in the US. But we were an hour too early. At 4pm everything worked fine.

Dick arrived and we went out to a Balkan restaurant across from the railway station. It was bright, cheery with violins playing and the food was pretty good. A few glasses of wine and everything glowed. Yes, It was a great evening.

Traveling Business

2011-09-23T18:55:00.001+05:30

I traveled SAS business class to Copenhagen for the first time. I unfortunately have a problem with my left hip, which I have decided to have fixed, and it means walking distances a great problem. I promised everyone I would take a cane, which has been helpful, and let's face it, I can also swing it pretty hard if necessary.

I think the hostesses don't like old women with canes.Though they were polite, warmth was definitely lacking. And when I couldn't find the earphones one of the young ladies accused me of dropping it down into the works of the chair. Of course no one said we shouldn't put it into the little pocket on the side of the chair. Oh well, that is really their problem.

Sleeping was great. I didn't sleep a lot, but I could stretch out and that makes all the difference.

The food was not any better than economy, it just looked better. It amazes me that people can cook their food to death.

On to Plymouth

2011-08-10T01:56:00.000+05:30

We left Port Isaac racing to Plymouth, well, racing as much one can when you are driving on the other side of the road through lanes which are meant for one car. It was a stressful drive and our GPS kept sending us to these itty bitty roads instead of the national highway. I must have set it up wrong.

Dick was ranting and hugging the left side, so that branches kept hitting the car and my arm. I was so tense I could feel the muscles in my stomach.

We arrived in Plymouth, but had little time to look around. We did see where the Puritans were put on a ship and sent off to the new world. They were a fanatical religious group not tolerated by the English, so the Brits "invited" them to leave. They had as much tolerance for our forefathers as we do for our new immigrants. But many of the Puritans were English. Hey, maybe we could find a sparsely populated continent to send those we don't want. LOL. Seriously, people who are different are not liked anywhere, which is a sad reflection of the human spirit.

We stayed at a very sweet Bed and Breakfast, which looked like a photo of the past. I am always amazed that people like Victorian chairs, tables and beds. However it was very comfortable and the people were very helpful.

Odd happenings

2011-04-24T19:37:00.001+05:30

Yesterday Kjeld was helping me get my ticket for the train to Copenhagen, when he said that I had to keep my credit card ready to prove who I am.

I laughed and said, "What to do? I am now elderly, and they would certainly have a lot of patience with me."

"No, no," he said, "if you can't prove who you are with this credit card they will throw you off the train."

"Seriously?" I asked.

"Yes," he said. "There was a ten year old girl who commuted to school everyday on the train and she needed to get her commuter ticket renewed. The printer made a mistake, so the conductor threw her off the train at a stop that had no service."

"That's not possible," I said. "How could he in good conscience throw a ten year old girl off the train and leave her?"

"It is not his problem," Kjeld said. "The rules say that the ticket must be correct or you can't ride."

"But a ten year old girl? What if something happened to her? Isn't he responsible"

"No, no," he said. "He is just following the rules the company has set up."

I was getting irritated, because he said all of this with such conviction that I thought he agreed with it. But thankfully when I asked him he said, "Of course not. But it happens, so you have to be prepared."

The Doc Martin Sets in Port Isaac

2011-04-14T22:44:00.000+05:30

Where is the Star?

Our biggest surprise was that a new series of DOC MARTIN is being filmed here. People of course were crowding around the stars, but we kept our distance. Watching a movie being made is a bit like watching paint dry. You notice how far away we were from the action.

However we did take photos of the sets that were on the original series.

The Surgery and Home

The sun was behind me. So the photo isn't that great, but it's the bottom house that was the doc's surgery, their name for a doctor's office, and his home.

Louisa's house and the restaurant

Louisa is the love interest and lives in the upper house to the right. Below is the restaurant that the plumber turned restaurateur owns and runs with the expected consequences.

The chemist shop, which is the drug store to all of you who haven't been to England.

This won't interest everyone, but a few will get a kick out of it.

Port Isaac

2011-04-13T16:40:00.001+05:30

Port Isaac

Last year we found Doc Martin on netflix and watched all four seasons. The hero is a British Surgeon, who has found he can no longer stand the sight of blood. Pretty bad for a surgeon. But the Doc has about as many social graces as House. He is House in a small village. That village was called Port Wen, which after some research I found on the internet and wanted to visit. We decided to vacation here this spring.

So here we are and I was not disappointed. The streets are narrow, hardly room for one car, and expected to allow two cars. That tends to be a bit of a challenge as you can see in the following photo.

Toward village center

Port Isaac is still a fishing village. They catch haddock, salmon, crabs, lobsters, etc. So even Dick is eating fish occasionally.

These are some of the traps they use to catch shell fish.

There is a little beach filled with children, even in this temperature. Of course they aren't in bathing suits; they are playing with stones and digging in the sand.

Children playing on the sea shore

As quaint as it is, it has a number of drawbacks. No ATM or cash point, no bank, no post office, no super market, no launderette, no bars for our telephone. Thankfully it does have wifi, or internet as it is called here. And the people, there is only a population of a few hundred, are super nice, helpful and very polite.

Easy Jet

2011-04-11T16:38:00.001+05:30

A wonderful Sign in England

Because of financial constraints, the organization Dick was speaking to sent us to Leicester with Easy Jet, a cheap airline . Now the staff on the plane was nice and we were a bit naive, but we were told that we could not carry more than 20 kilos each--- at the check in. We talked the women behind the counter into taking us on board anyway, but we weren't allowed to take more than one bag on the plane. So I stuffed the contents of my purse into my pockets. My purse was huge, so luckily I had bought this coat with huge inside pockets. I looked like the fat man who said after eating five meals, "I ain't got no French fries." When we got to the gate, everyone had more than one bag. So much for believing what I'm told.
So unless you travel with a back pack and nothing else, don't take Easy Jet. They won't even let you pay for extra weight or an extra bag.

Pia, one of the Finnish people on the staff where we were going, picked us up with a car of course. She took us to The Hart Pub. We had a great meal.
We were told that pubs needed a picture of the pub's name as well as writing the name, because there were those who couldn't read and wouldn't know how to find it. Interesting tidbit.

Back in Copenhagen 5 April 2011

2011-04-10T15:39:00.000+05:30

Returning to Copenhagen was fun. We took a train, which was comfortable and enjoyable.

We met Dirk Lohr, a German opera singer, whose partner is Marianne Larsen, a Danish opera singer. She wasn't with him, so we didn't have the pleasure of meeting her, but he was loads of fun. And, as you know, what is life without laughter.

He talked about how foggy his mind was. Der Nebel, he kept repeating when he didn't understand something or didn't know something. I guess you had to be there. But jokes and irony were flying fast. And he's a German and understood irony. Wow!!!

We stayed at the OMENA hotel in Copenhagen. I liked it. Instead of keys you needed a numeric code to enter and had to reuse that code to buy coke, get into the room, etc. It was perfect for me, because I have no trouble learning numeric anything but always lose my keys.

The room was clean, the beds were comfortable, there was wifi, a TV with CNBC, a water cooker, and a more than adequate bathrom, with hot water once you figured out the system. However, there was no service desk, no one to tell you to carry your own luggage, no one to tell you that I can't fix that, etc. For that convenience, we paid about half the normal price.

Also it was in the red light district and two blocks from the railway station. That means if I am alone I can't go out at night, because we were approached even with Dick along. Perhaps they wanted to sell him some girl, figuring I had run out of any attractive qualities at my age, which I'm sure is true.

I spent the day catching up on my blog and looking for my Danish Kroener, which I had misplaced in Hoexter. Dick of course was working. What else is new? The joke is he thinks he can retire. But what would he do? I can hardly get him to relax for a week's vacation. Hardly??? How about impossible.

An excursion to Kassel

2011-04-06T17:14:00.000+05:30

I know I can be difficult, but one thing that really irritates me is the assumption that Americans are unable to learn a foreign language. So for the first day I explained to everyone who asked how we'd learned German. Then I had "die Nase full."

It was 1pm when we started out for Kassel, the next town on their list. We hadn't eaten since 7:30am and I could see that Dick was in a trouble. I kept wondering when lunch would be. Finally when we arrived in Kassel, Dick suggested we stop for a coffee. "That'll be fine," Herr Gross said. "I had intended to do that at 4pm, but now will be good." So we did stop and had coffee with milk. That was good for Dick. I gave him part of mine to make sure he had enough and he poured a lot of sugar into his cup.

A misty day, but there's the castle.

Our hosts wanted to show us a museum in the castle where the Kaiser of the area had lived. They forgot to tell us that we had to walk a mile from the car and a quarter of that straight uphill. I struggled and almost got there without help, but I had to swallow my dignity and let Herr Gross help me the last 50 meters. I was not in a good mood.

A view from the castle

Ursula and Herr Gross had reserved a person to explain the paintings, which I thought was very nice. He wanted a painting of Ruebens and Rembrandt and the expert should show us the differences. Okay, so we agreed. While waiting the expert asked me where I was from and I said the USA.
"You speak good German, " she said.
"Thank you," I said.
"How long have you been in Germany?" she asked. "Two days," I said.
And then Dick arrived and she went through the same thing with him. We are smiling.
She hesitated for a long time, then she said, "So you are Americans and you speak good German. Where did you learn it?"
"Oh," I answered, "it was a miracle!!! I woke up one morning, and I could speak German."
The rest of the time, she did explain the differences between the two painters, but she made sure we knew that the town had been 86% destroyed by us and the English during the second world war. She brought it up a number of times in different ways. I think she was looking for an argument. I decided not to comment.
By now it was past 4 and we were on our way to downtown Kassel. They wanted us to see the Mall, the only succcessful one in Germany. It was nice, but not worth a photo. But we ran into these two aliens outside on the sidewalk. It was the highlight of my trip.

No one knew why they were dressed like that. Maybe a part before Lent?

On the trip back to Hoexter, we went through Warburg, another ancient city. I missed it because I fell asleep and it was dark by that time anyway.

At 6:30pm we finally stopped for a meal. By the time we returned to the hotel, I was exhausted, as was Dick. At least we got our exercise that day and we did see a lot of beautiful things. I wish I enjoyed sightseeing more than I do.

An Excursion to Hann. Muendel

2011-04-06T16:10:00.000+05:30

We woke up at 7am on a Sunday, had breakfast at 7:30 and got ready to be picked up at 10:30am. Herr Gross and Ursula picked us up to drive to Hann. Muendel, about 50 Km away. It was a beautiful drive on a country road through the countryside. We arrived in Muendel where the rivers Fulda and the Werra come together to make the Weser, which flows to the sea. The poem above reads in short summary : Where the Werra and the Fulda kiss,a new river, the Weser is born and runs to the sea. (If anyone has a better translation please let me know. I did some research, but there were too many conflicting ideas, so this is the best I came up with.) In any case Hannoverische Muendel is known for it's old town and the three rivers.

This is where the rivers come together to form a new one. Ah, the mixture of the waters, like the mixture of genes.

This is a very old oak tree. I think it is older than our oak at home. But we could sit here and stare at the water.

Part of the old town. Half wood homes are here. It is quite beautiful.

Day 2 in Hoexter

2011-04-04T13:44:00.001+05:30

No, Dick's bag wasn't there. So we called the police and the Kundenzentrum. Guess what, everything is closed on Sunday. Not the police, of course, but their staff is greatly reduced. Big surprise. So when Dick is through blabbing today to those kids at the Gymnasium, he and Ursula will have to go back to Kreiensen.

Oh yes, another shocker. Ursula had us get out of the train at Kreiensen. We assumed Hoexter was so small that no railroad station existed. Imagine our surprise, when we stepped out of our hotel and there was the train bouncing into the station across the street. So I asked why we were sent to Kreiensen. Wouldn't it have been easier for us to walk across the street, settle into our room before the evening started.

No. It was easier for Ursula to pick us up in Kreiensen in order to have coffee and cake at her house. Very sweet really. However she has paid dearly, since she has to take Dick back and forth to Kreiensen in search of the bag. In any case we will be returning with a train from across the street.

The long trip back and forth to Kreiensen made us late for the first night's dinner. Herr Schuldirektor Gross was forced to wait for an hour until they returned. It was a beautiful night, so he wasn't too irritated. However, the Germans think being on time is next to cleanliness which is next godliness and being on time means being five minutes or ten minutes early.

The Germans never know when you're joking, and when someone reacts with horror at a comment I make I
only get worse. Sorry, it is a flaw in my otherwise perfect? character.

Ursula and Herr Gross

When we arrived in our hotel room, my first reaction was how absolutely perfectly clean the room was. The duvets would put new fallen snow to shame, and every surface sparkled like a creek in the early morning sun. Everything shone in the bathroom and one could see his image in the tiles.

When Ursula asked me how we liked the room, I said, "It's okay, but it was a bit dirty." The look on her and Grosses faces, you can imagine. I laughed and told them I was kidding, that the room was perfect.

We had a great meal and laughed the whole evening. A good ending to a bad start.

The Train to Kreiensen

2011-04-03T13:34:00.000+05:30

Yesterday is one of those days when the world has tipped and everything has fallen off. It started off with my husband giving me the great news, 5 minutes before we leave for the train, that our things will not follow us to Berlin. Now that wouldn't be such a horror, except I left some things behind that I might actually need in two weeks. Actually what he said was "We have decided not to take the bag to Berlin."

"We?" I shouted, "who in the hell is we? I am part of what's in that bag. And you tell me now? Five minutes before we leave for the train?" But he and Kjeld had decided it would be a problem for their car, which is fine, but don't inform me as we are going out the door.

Anyway I survived and the bag is still at their house.

The trip itself went without a hitch as far as Kreisensen, a small town with a closed bahnhof. "It is dying," said Ursula, the young German woman who picked us up. She helped me with my bag and Dick struggled with his. Then we sat down and waited for her to bring the car.

The next hour went very well. We packed everything in the car and Ursula took us to her house--A little house with a picket fence and stones hanging from the trees. IT reminded me of the man who hung his troubles on the tree before he entered the house, and picked them off the tree as he left the next morning. I told Ursula that story, and she liked it.

Her house is so cute, very German. You walk into the diela (hallway) and there are a number of rooms with all the doors shut tight. Her living room was darling, and there was a small kitchen. Outside were table and chairs where we had green tea with vanilla and apfelkuchen (apple cake). Ursula is bubbly and very energetic. Soon I was making jokes with her. That was fun.

Then we went to the hotel and started unpacking, only to realize that we left Dicks upright bag standing on the bahnhof plaza. NO!!!! After we convinced Ursula that we actually had had the bag on the plaza,----he had to carry it up the steps from the train, she insisted they go back to Kreiensen. So off they went to find the bag.

The Danish Countryside 1

2011-03-30T17:01:00.000+05:30

It is a beautiful day today. Somehow when the sun shines, people smile. When it's gray---well, you know how people act. We went for a walk in the countryside. Actually it is pretty close to Jette's house, but slowly civilization is dragging its face over the old farms.

This is a photo of the farm. He raised emus and still has sheep.

The door with the statue next to it was where they kept the emus. Now they are gone. But I found out that emus have green eggs. Some useless information. I also like the stone work on the side of the building. Pretty snazzy.

We went into the barn and ran into the tractor. It looks different from tractors I am accustomed to seeing, not that I know anything about tractors.

Next to the tractor was a pen full of sheep. A white face and a black face. They certainly are a noisy bunch.

There were two lambs gamboling about.

Here is one chasing its mother for lunch.

On the way home we stopped at the creek and looked for frogs. They were in the water, but out from under the rocks. I tried to take some photos, but they didn't turn out.

Last night I worked on Pedro. So far the progress.

He has a lot more personality.

I have to finish his hair and one foot. I need some stuffing to finish the job.

I felt sorry for him in the bag by himself, so now he is with Bimsa the Teddy Bear.

A Day in Horsens

2011-03-29T23:51:00.001+05:30

A statue of Diana

Morning:

I'm a closet junky. I love rolls with poppy seeds. MMMMM. I got hooked on those when we lived in Germany, fresh rolls in the morning covered with poppy seeds. They are as good as French croissants and make you feel good besides.

Jette makes these muffins in very odd cups. They are small and rubbery, but you can bake with them, stick them in boiling water and wash them in the dishwasher. I have to have some, not that I bake, heaven forbid. But they are like having toys around the house.

We are off to Horsens, a small town. I will sit and have coffee, while Jette and Kjeld do water aerobics. Then we will go walking.

I have started some exercises as well again. Sit ups, push ups etc. Anything that doesn't need a weight. Weights don't travel well.

Evening

We had a great time in Horsens. I took them out to lunch. We ate fresh fish at the Sailing Club. So tonight we had a beautiful salad.

A Greek salad with eggs. The oranges are just for looks. Afterwards we had strawberries and grapes for dessert.

On the way home we stopped and photographed the crocuses leaping out of the ground.

Imagine the man hours needed to plant all of these. Good for the unemployed.

A Lazy day

2011-03-28T22:50:00.001+05:30

Today was a very beautiful day, warmer and sunny. I awoke at 9am and had breakfast with Jette and Kjeld. We always have bread with jam or cheese and coffee. Quite nice. Jette makes her own bread and she also buys some rolls with poppy seeds. Mmm.

We watched "27 dresses," a movie I saw long ago, but it was fun. A feel good film. And there were two episodes of Waking the Dead, a British cold case series. Jette made some muffins, but they are the small ones that used to be normal in the US. We had them as a night cap.

I worked on my doll. It now has a beard and moustache. Its personality is developing. I think we'll call him Pedro.

I walked a mile. It took 23 minutes. But one way I was moving at a pretty good clip for me. I pretty much staggered back.

Denmark Update

2011-03-27T20:44:00.001+05:30

Yesterday I wrote on my 3M book, Meals, Manners, Mores. Today looks like another good day to get some work done on it.

The weather here is cold but sunny. Yesterday was very warm so Jette worked in her garden, and then she made two pizzas. She is quite a cook.

Kjeld was fixing the water mixer so I could have a warm shower. Not that the water was cold, but certainly not steaming. However, I have had cold bucket baths and survived. So I didn't mind.

I also worked on my doll. This is for Tiger, the littlest grandson. So it must be a manly doll with lots of whiskers and a moustache.

We did an interval walk, slowly for a few feet and then quickly for a few feet. We covered half a mile this way. I was sweating buckets at the end. It only shows how out of shape I am in.

Tomorrow I finish my medicine. The last prednisone tablet I took today and tomorrow the anti biotics will be finished. I do feel a lot better, so I guess it was worth it.

Salmon Nicoise with Coddled Eggs

2011-03-26T00:21:00.001+05:30

Tonight we had a great meal, ala Gordon Ramsey. Salmon nicoise with coddled eggs. It was great!!!!!! The coddled eggs I did ala Clio, my daughter. Jette made mushrooms in butter dough, so we left the table fat and happy. We didn't have string beans, so I used asparagus, but the rest of the recipe was pretty much according to the recipe. And of course we drank wine.

It took an hour to make and 20 minutes to eat.

http://www.goodtoknow.co.uk/recipes/510570/gordon-ramsay-s-salmon-salad-ni-oise-with-coddled-eggs

Relaxing in Denmark

2011-03-25T19:31:00.001+05:30

We have been traveling constantly, seeing family and friends. It is often overwhelming flying, then unpacking, repacking and flying again. I can't relax enough to write. But now I am in Horsens, a small town in Denmark with our friends, Jette and Kjeld. It is always peaceful here, so after a day or two I feel human again.

Jette and Kjeld in Varanasi

Denmark is windy, gale force winds, but those Danes get out and walk, making sure they remain as strong as their Viking ancestors.. Yesterday, the wind was so strong I felt unbalanced. Tottering like the old woman I have become.Yet we walked about a mile, which did me a world of good.

Flowers are peeking their lovely heads from the ground and one spies a splash of yellow, white, purple in the dead grass. It's a promise that spring is just around the corner. After this long hard winter, it is a promise that we all are looking forward to.

This is their house, made of brick inside and out.

Egypt and its revolution

2011-02-01T23:34:00.001+05:30

I was pleasantly surprised at the lack of violence in Egypt. I have been there a few times, but many years ago. Egyptians were welcoming and helpful. They seemed to be a gentle lot and this demonstration has proved it. But how long can they continue, with food running out? Can't our government at least help them with packages of food. Or do they want Mubarak to starve them to submission?

An unusual Dish

2011-01-26T20:12:00.002+05:30

Rice rats are eaten in the Guandong province of China . Caught in bamboo traps, skinned, gutted, salted, the body is left to soak in oil, --- giving the meat that shiny waxed look so well known in curing the famous Peking duck. Then the rats are hung out to cure in the sun, a common sight in the village of Hualong. This meat brings twice the price of prime pork in the open market.

China is not the only country whose citizens eat rats; farmers in Thailand and the Phillipines also relish the rice rat.

In Valencia, Spain, a prized gourmet dish is paella, eaten throughout the country by rich and poor alike. Normally this dish made of saffron rice with bits of fish and condiments, but in Valencia dozens of people will gather around a large bowl of this traditional meal, which is served with slices of field rats to give it that extra flavor.

In the Bordeaux wine cellars rats were prized by French barrel-makers, who grilled the rat over fires fueled by broken wine barrels.

Rats are not only eaten, but in India, where the majority of the people are vegetarians, rats are deified as the vehicle of the most popular diety, Ganesh. A temple in the village of Deshnok in Rajasthan, is dedicated to the care of rats. They are fed and given water by the Brahmin priests. People make pilgrimages to give their respects.

Indian Fashion 2

2011-01-10T04:30:00.003+05:30

The traditional dress of India is worth seeing.

Color and design can't be beaten.

What are they looking at?

They don't look too happy.

They are happy.

Only women in the South wear such short saris.

Even monks like to see sites.

Fashion in India--1

2011-01-10T02:47:00.000+05:30

While waiting to see the Taj Mahal I noticed how interestingly women and men are dressed when they travel.

It's not that warm because it is already November. But of course if you are from the icy north, you might actually think it is warm.

Where would you say this is from?

Or this young lady?

CAMELS, CAMELS AND MORE CAMELS

2010-12-20T19:27:00.002+05:30

Everywhere you look, you see camels in Rajasthan. These are some of the photos we took.

They are used as beasts of burden. Here the camel is pulling a cart of bricks.

Like the horses, cows and goats, Indians decorate their cames with their names and the names of their god.

Here again a beast of burden led by the owner.

Camels are feeding as you drive by. Still magic to me.

The camels are being herded for the camel sale in Pushkar.

Traveling in India--The Road Show

2010-12-19T02:53:00.001+05:30

There are many travel photos: I am adding some more at this time.

The radishes are so heavy, one guy has to push while the other pedals. One way to get to market.

This is a great way to move dirt. When we returned a couple of days later the work was done. Better than what goes on in Madison, where the whole city is torn up for the whole of the summer----every summer.

I love this scene. And ----there are so many variations.

I would love to raid this truck. So many beautiful vegetables.

A Car and a Driver

2010-12-12T18:33:00.001+05:30

We hired a car with driver to take us on the trip through Rajasthan. Another frustrating experience. I can't complain about Gopal's driving. He was as good as I've seen, but in every other respect he was totally unprofessional.

1. We were told he speaks English. Well, my Hindi was twice as good as his English and that isn't saying much. The driver I use in Delhi said he spoke English perfectly--then how should he know; he doesn't speak English himself.
2. We gave him Rs 10,000 in advance to cover his expenses, tolls, gasoline, etc. The first trick he tried was to get us to pay for the tolls when he encountered them. I had to remind him that he had received the Rs 10,000 to cover all that.
3. We told him and his colleagues that we had picked our own hotels. He ignored that and took us to the hotel he chose. It was clean, but horrible . We were so tired when we arrived that first night, or I should say, I was so tired, I didn't want to fight with him. So it was my fault. And it never happened again.
Let me explain why drivers take you to hotels and shops of their choice. At the hotels, they get a commission and a bed to sleep on: at the shops they get so much per head they bring in and a percentage of what you buy.
4.The night before we took the last trip back to Delhi, Gopal had obviously been drinking and came late and hung over to drive back. I was furious. We stopped every hour to get him a tea to sober him up. When I complained to his uncle, he said that Gopal could do what he wanted on his own time. So much for trusting people.
5. The final blow: he wanted us to pay the remainder of the Rs 36,000 without giving us a receipt. I told him to go back and get a receipt book and he would get his money. He refused. So I waited for his uncle.

On the River Ganges

2010-12-12T03:42:00.000+05:30

In the early morning, as the sun is rising. everyone rushes to the water front. Isn't it beautiful? But don't look too closely and------whatever you do, don't stick your hand in the water. It may disappear!!!!!

Everyone comes to greet the sun, pour water to the god of the Ganges, bathe and brush their teeth. As wonderful as that sounds in a river of pure water, in this river it is death for anyone without a wonderful immune system.

Tourists gather with their big lenses, unfortunately I didn't have such a lens, and take wonderful photos.

Japanese tourists have the weakest immune system of all and -----there they are-----with their masks. Nothing adventurous about them.

The main part of the ghats was surrounded by a stage, where the gods danced the night before at a huge festival and a million people attended. Glad I wasn't there.

Jette and Kjeld had tea with me sitting at the bottom of the ghats near the river.

We watched ducks eat the enormous amount of garbage.

The goats were cold. It was only 75 degrees F. They needed sweaters and shirts. They are the best garbage eaters, besides the pigs.

Yumm. We were able to watch hunky guy drape a dhoti.

VARANASI

2010-11-23T08:57:00.003+05:30

We arrived in Varanasi at 8:30 in the morning---one hour late. Luckily I had the hotel people pick us up, because I couldn't imagine fighting off the touts and taxi men who wanted to take us to any hotel except the one we had reserved.

It was more than a half hour by car and then we were to take a bicycle rickshaw through the gullies. Luckily Jette tried to get up on one of those things first and had problems, so I didn't have to show my weakness in dragging this enormous body up on the cart. Or not able to drag it.

We walked for what seemed twenty minutes, twisting and turning through the narrow allies. Everywhere there were cows, dogs, and cow pies. Garbage was strewn from one end to the other.

I had my reservations about the hotel as I saw the surroundings, and I was half right. The entrance was horrible, dirty and the paint was chipped. But a bit farther inside the scene changed and I sighed a sigh of relief. Not the Umaid Mahal in Jaipur, but acceptable. It is called the Shiva Ganges Paying Guest House. You have to remember that I felt responsible for any problems that would occur.

We collapsed in a chair when we got in and this guy with a black moustache starting telling us how wonderful we were and how we are part of his family. Seriously? I was suspicious right away, but tried not to show it. I asked him his name and he said, "I belong here, I am nephew," and he pointed at the old man sitting cross legged on the chair at the reception desk. "He is uncle and I am nephew to uncle." So his name became Nephew to Uncle.

The room was located two stories walk up. Thank goodness for Kjeld, because he always carried our luggage when necessary. The room was quite large with balconies and two rooms. We all sleep there. It is blue with very sweet blue curtains and embroidered sheets. Very Genteel English.

However, no television and no telephone. If we want something, we shout down the stairs. "Hey there, buddy, send some tea up here." And breakfast? "Hey there buddy, eggs, toast, lots of coffee and tea."Interesting for Rs 5,500.

Riding the Train

2010-11-22T19:55:00.002+05:30

Unfortunately, we couldn't get first class tickets to Varanassi on the train. What a treat!!! I was quite amused, because Jette and Kjeld wanted to have "real" experiences. And they sure did this time!!!

I had forgotten that second class is really the ancient third class, so everyone, and I mean everyone, was in our car. We had booked berths, thank God, because at least we could sleep without someone sleeping in OUR beds. Did I say sleep? I think I managed a total of three hours out of fourteen.

First everyone talks at the top of their lungs and play games until at least 11:00pm. I finally switched off the light in our little part of the coach, and I thought that would end the games. But, the players moved about three feet and kept right on playing.

At midnight or 1:00am, the Indians crawled into their berths with about two or three others already sleeping. I know I am a bit chubby, but there is no way two westerners could sleep on one berth. But Indians slept two to a berth with children tucked in wherever there was a tiny space.

Then some guy threw his bed roll between Jette and me and crawled in. So we couldn't get out of our berths without stepping on his face. And why is that a problem??? Middle of the night bathroom breaks.

Okay, the bathroom. The women's toilet was a disgrace. Someone pooped on the floor and not just diarrhea. So I went to the men's and it was clean, though you had to squat. I am not the greatest squatter, and certainly not when the train is lurching, speeding up, putting on the brakes----well, you get my drift.

Then everyone is in their beds, the lights are out and the snoring begins. Two guys in the berth above me had a regular concert, taking turns delivering up an opera of amazing variations. Then just as I am about to fall into a coma, a train with a lamenting wail goes by and continues the sound for the next ten minutes.Was there a funeral somewhere?

Going by a railray station, a woman's voice shouted out the name of trains and their numbers. At first I thought there was some kind of lottery going on and she was screeching the winning tickets, but alas it never ended.

Most trains in Europe have this wonderful consistent sound going back and forth over the tracks---clippety clop, clippety clop---not here. The train swayed and our belly fat was like jelly, flying back and forth across our body. The ultimate insult: we couldn't properly close our windows, so the wind raced in and it was cold. I covered my head with my shawl and hoped to keep warm. Well, we know what we will need to buy if we don't get an upgrade going back to Delhi.

Frustrations

2010-11-19T18:06:00.002+05:30

I forget how frustrating India is. Wherever you go, you are pursued by venders and touts. I have learned through the years to just keep walking, but Jette stops and gets involved in a conversation with them. Of course, that means the vendor is halfway to selling her something. And many times she doesn't even want it. She doesn't buy it, but wastes a lot of her time.

The pavements and streets are loaded with cracks and obstacles you can stumble over. I have to keep my eyes on my feet or boom---I'm on the ground.

The steps are not uniform. One can be a short height and the next so large I can't reach without holding on to something. Getting on the bus to the airplane was a real trick. The step was so high I stumbled and fell, because I couldn't reach it. So undignified. Today we had trouble with the taxi driver in Goa. He didn't want to come but he didn't want to send anyone. So Jette and Kjeld missed bird watching. Constant frustrations!!!!! And Jette is so kind, she always finds an excuse for whatever happens. Not so Kjeld. Today he actually shouted at the taxi driver and then refused to pay him what he asked. Cheers to Kjeld!!!!!

More photos of the road in India

2010-11-19T17:52:00.000+05:30

Remember the milk man who the milk to the door? I do as well as the ice man to fill our ice boxes. This is the Indian version.

I love the way this is packed. It can remind you of many things.

On the Road

2010-11-19T16:35:00.001+05:30

Riding in a bus is not nearly as much fun as riding atop. And when the bus swerves to avoid a cow, bicycle or horse cart, well, too bad. Nice knowing you.

Onions galore!!! And look at that poor old man. I thought his hair was white, but it's the turban he has on.

Traveling in India

2010-11-19T12:18:00.001+05:30

Though travel in Delhi and other major cities is better controlled, the traffic in the rural areas is as chaotic as I remember in the 70s. However, the streets are wider, and there are two way highways, though drivers seem to use whatever part of the highway they wish. Here are some more photos of our trip so far.

One can use a three wheeler for anything.

These might not be twigs. Who knows?

Edit Posts
Cows are absolutely safe on highways, crowded or otherwise. No one would dream of tipping a cow.

Problems of traveling and Obama's faux pas

2010-11-10T12:06:00.003+05:30

I have missed many days, but it isn't because I don't want to blog. I am too tired when we arrive back at the hotel and have dinner. All I want to do is sleep. So I will do what I can in the meantime and finish it when I'm back in Delhi.

While we were in Delhi, Obama came to visit. Well, that is not exactly true. We left the day he arrived. The city was shot down tight, and no one could move anywhere, so we decided that would be a good time to travel.

As Clinton and Bush before him, Obama made some strides and left with the Indian populace happier than before he arrived. I am sure that Americans will be happy as well, since he managed to create 70000 jobs. Or maybe not. Who knows?

I have been quite alarmed at the lack of knowledge for other cultures that has been shown by the Obamas. He bowed deeply to the emperor of Japan when he should have just nodded. After all, Obama is the head of state and should show that he is. Here in India he put his arm around Man Mohan Singh. People here do not touch each other at all in public.

Michelle seems to have a problem as well. She was touchy feelie with the Queen of England, and it shocked the Brits. And insisting on shaking hands with a conservative Musljm has made problems for the Indonesian official. One should be natural, of course. But in so doing, one needs to understand what makes another uncomfortable.

Perhaps he has advisers who have never traveled or been taught by the State Department how to behave in various countries. Sometimes a cultural faux pas can destroy all the good that was done.

Traveling from Agra to Jaipur

2010-11-10T11:04:00.002+05:30

Some sites on the way to Jaipur.

Though cows are seldom seen in Delhi, there is an abundance in the countryside.

I thought this was a wonderful way to remind people they needed to see a dentist.

These boys are off to the fields to work with their fathers and sometimes their mothers. It's possible they are part of one extended family.

Wouldn't it be fun to decorate your own truck like this or your car? Inside are cattle.

I am amazed that the mother has such faith in her husband riding on a scooter. Not me. I would take a bus.

Red Fort

2010-11-05T22:08:00.000+05:30

November 3

I was so tired when we got home from Old Delhi I was asleep at 7:30pm without dinner. I woke up early in the morning, however, in order to go down to the desk to see if we were going to have rooms that night, and thank goodness someone had canceled.

At breakfast we decided to go to the Red Fort, which I was going to let them do alone until KB told me that finding the car is a big problem. So I went with them, because I have an Indian mobile and can call him. Then I left the bloody thing in the car. So what good was I? Yes, I figured out how to get a hold of Omvir, the driver, by calling KB who called Mohini who told me the number of the driver. Then I used Jette’s phone and said two words, so she wouldn’t have to pay an arm and a leg to the Danish telephone provider.

The Red Fort was not at all what I expected. Beautiful grounds, beautifully kept. Much different than when I saw it some 30 years ago.

This middle age guy came up to us, hoping to be our guide. He saw dollar signs, didn’t know that I’m cheap as can be and would probably not even give him a tip. But as a marketer, well I only thought Americans bragged about themselves that way. “I’m the only guide worth having. Everyone says that I am a genius. I speak fourteen languages, (which he proceeded to prove by saying "inlaid" in German, French, Spanish and Italian)all the languages of the world. Everyone tells me I am a great person.” Now how could you resist that? We did accept him and were sorely disappointed. I actually knew more than he did about Shah Jahan and I know almost nothing. He also gave us a song and dance about how he had to provide for his son, who is going to University in the US and everyone gives him dollars and euros and Swiss francs. I wanted to gag, and gave him exactly what he said he would charge. As we walked back to the entrance and read the plaques, we realized that we would have learned more reading them than we learned from the damn fool we hired to guide us. Live and learn.

We went to Defense Colony and ate at Sagar, a very good South Indian It was fun, because we ordered a different dish and shared. I had dishes I hadn’t eaten before.

I decided to spend the afternoon with Mohini and sent Jette and Kjeld to see Humayan’s tomb and Lodi garden. They loved the gardens and I felt good about seeing Mohini, who is now in a Senior centre and hating it. But she has never liked anywhere she’s lived. So I don’t say much.

The driver came back and picked me up and off we went to the hostel and dinner.

Arrival of our Friends

2010-11-04T16:43:00.002+05:30

November 2, 2010

Today I got up at 4:30 to meet Jette and Kjeld at the airport. The plane was due at 6:30 AM, but was half an hour late. I sat dying of thirst and bought myself a coke. Then I sat with a young girl, who told me she wanted to see the world as an airline hostess. I set her straight on that, explaining she would never see the world, because when she arrives at her destination, she is too tired to site see and sleeps until the next day when she is expected to return. On top of that she is really a high class waitress. Of course, there are the times when a hostess uses her education to help save people under crisis situations, but they are few and far between. The main job is to serve people food and listen to her complaints. No, this is not something to spend your youth wishing for.

At 8:30 Jette and Kjeld came out of customs. I was very happy to see them, because I had been alone for three days, with only a few hours to see Mohini and Rama at the Senior Center. I had always stayed with Mohini before the move. And though we disagreed occasionally, it was a home away from home. After a day out in Delhi traffic, I could return to a nice meal and conversation.

Jette and Kjeld didn’t even look tired. So I called Ramchandra, the driver lent to us by KB, and he brought the car to take us back to the hotel. We decided to have breakfast, go out for a walk and then see. Breakfast is included in the cost of the room, so we ate well and then walked to the Barista for a decent coffee. Luckily I had sought out the coffee shop a couple of days previous, so I knew where to go.

Walking in India is a bit of a challenge. You are accosted by touts, doing everything but drag you to a shop where they get commissions, by three wheeler drivers, promising you a grand tour for nothing and beggars, a number of which have become entrepreneurs selling newspapers, magazines and various other things.

We arrived at the Barista, had a wonderful coffee and talked. Then off to the ATM, where I realized I hadn’t told the bank I was traveling, and they had blocked the money. Oh well, that can be remedied. Off to Thomas Cook, where Jette and Kjeld wanted to change money. I showed them how to check for a counterfeit note, because I had been caught a couple of times with one.

We had lunch and settled in for a short nap. After two hours, they were ready to go again. I suggested we take a three wheeler to Old Delhi. It was hilarious. The scooter zips in and out of traffic, Kjeld and Jette giggling like two teenagers. When Jette had said to her son that she was worried about getting a disease in India, he told her that once in traffic she will lose that fear. And so it happened. You can’t understand it until you’ve been there. It was such fun for me, watching them watch the traffic. I am getting jaded.

/

Looking for coffee a South Indian meal

2010-11-01T01:30:00.001+05:30

Unfortunately I am one of those people who has to have coffee in the morning. I can only be happy that it isn't a cigarette. However, the YWCA only has something like nescafe, something so disgusting I gag thinking about it. So after breakfast, I started looking for a Barista, the Indian Starbucks. Directions held tight in my shaking hands, (from the lack of coffee. of course) I started off. Ten feet down the road the first scooter driver stops and asks if I want a ride, but this is supposed to be my morning walk, so No! Ten more feet and another guy offers me the Taj Mahal just to get into his scooter, but I held fast. Stopping to ask for directions, I'm told that the first directions were false and the barista is right around the corner. Well, around the corner means five New York blocks, and please take my scooter for 40 cents. So I gave in and off we went. The coffee was good. I felt like a new person and my hands stopped shaking, and my headache went away.

I went to find a South Indian Restaurant to get some food for my friend, Mohini. She loves South Indian food, and though I do enjoy it occasionally I find its sameness boring over the long haul. But I got two idli plates and a Masala dosa, which were good. The idlis are made with rice and urad dal. The dal is skinned, because it is black and idlis are white. Here is a recipe: http://chefinyou.com/2009/01/idli-recipe/ .The sambar, a soup like mixture, is very hot, and though I like hot food, there is something about the texture or the heaviness that disagrees with me. I think if I were to make it, and, don't hold your breath, I would change the sambar so it would be light. http://www.south-indian-recipes.com/sambarrecipe.html . I have probably insulted a number of South Indian Gods, but I have to be truthful. You can also eat the idlis with chutney, which I do like.

One thing I do love are the dosas. I love the Masala Dosa, a crispy shell of rice and urad dal filled with peas, potatoes and other vegetables. Unfortunately it is not easy to make. http://www.indianfoodforever.com/snacks/masala-dosa.html . I have never had a good dosa in the U.S.

The YWCA

2010-10-31T10:52:00.002+05:30

I am staying at the YWCA, Blue Triangle. The rooms are very basic, but meticulously clean, so I can't complain. Breakfast is included and it is adequate: boiled eggs, toast, cereal and lots of milk tea or coffee. There is a TV in each room with HBO. What else can you ask for? I even have CNBC and Bloomberg TV.

The YWCA is on Ashok road, close to Jan Path, a very old shoppers' paradise. And Connaught is right around the corner. So though I hate shopping, it will be a very valuable place for my friends.

Shockingly Obama is coming to visit on November 6, Diwali, which is a religious holiday, as important to the Indians as Christmas is to the Christians. He gets some very odd advice from the people around him. Like bowing low to the emperor of Japan. As head of state, he should have nodded. Again bad advice from his advisers. And it made him look ridiculous at home.

I have seen my friend, Mohini, a 90 year old woman, who is going strong. She complains non stop but that is her way, and certainly will not change now. Her mind is strong and we can talk about everything. I miss staying with her, because it was a home away from home. And Mohini and her daughter, Rama, are family. We have known each other since the days we lived in India. Mohini was my Hindi teacher and friend as early as 1971, so it has been a great friendship for many years.

I took a scooter again after using only a taxi for many years. It's a good thing I don't fear death, or I would have died a hundred deaths in the half hour it took to arrive at Greater Kailash. He wove in an out of traffic like a snake on the run, barely missing cars and bicycles as he went. People were beeping their horns, but not only at him, just generally. I guess the sound makes them happy.

My good friend KB, whom I rewarded with falsely calling him Kishan instead of Kishor in my book about India, is as usual always there when I need him.

At O'hare Airport

2010-10-29T13:30:00.004+05:30

We have had some of the strongest winds I have every experienced. And it doesn't let up. We just had all of our trees cut for the branches lost last winter and we'll probably have to do it again. The trip to O'hare was a fight to keep the car on the road. And the trucks swerved with every gust. No fun really.
However we did arrive. I was able to talk the woman at the American Airlines desk into changing my seat. I hate the last seat on the plane, because the seat doesn't go back at all and you hear the swish swash of the toilet and the click, clacking of the kitchen. So I was able to get an exit row and shared it with a guy meters tall. But being able to stretch my legs made all the difference. I slept at least 9 of the 14 hours.

Waiting in the airport I was worried. I stopped flying Air India, because for every adult, there are three squalling babies. I know that sounds cruel and unfeeling, but enough is enough. I thought we were going to have the same problem on this flight, but luckily it turned out to be quiet, even with the large number of kids aboard.

I had read the day before departure, that American Airlines is one of the three worst airlines in the US, second only to US Airways. But aside from a crabby and unhappy stewardess, or hostess or whatever they are called today, it turned out to be as pleasant as one can expect. The unhappy hostess was pretty old, probably started when I was a kid. I remember all my friends sitting around dying to get a job on the planes at that time. Every "stewardess" was young, and on the hunt for a rich man. It was important, because you could only work there until you were 30. I thought it sounded great until I got on a flight and realized that the major part of the job was distributing food and listening the complaints of the passengers. No way I would have looked for such a job.

Going to India

2010-10-23T01:02:00.000+05:30

It's been awhile since I've talked about traveling. But after a couple of months I am back on the trail. Back to India, but this time with two friends who are innocents from Denmark. They have never been to India before. We plan to go to Agra, Jaipur, Jaiselmer and Varanarsi first, and if possible to the camel festival. Then to the South, which I have had little opportunity to visit. So it will be new for me as well.

I will still visit Mohini, who has now entered a Senior Center. I am anxious to see how she is doing there. She doesn't sound too happy, but her daughter, Rama, seems to be happy. We'll see.

When I arrive I will be staying at the YWCA. It's a first, so hopefully it will be a positive experience.

Aging Bicyclists

2010-09-20T02:33:00.000+05:30

Today I sat in the coffee shop in our little town, when six motorcycles came roaring up. Imagine my surprise when they took off their helmets!! Grey hair. Baldness. Wrinkles. There was no one under 50 years of age. I almost starting laughing.

Remember the days when motorcycles made you fearful. Now they make you grin.

And can you imagine boys of 18 seeing their grandfathers riding motorcycles; they will never buy one.

Too bad I didn't have camera, but check on this website: http://www.ultimatemotorcycling.com/2010/sturgis-motorcycle-rally-best-events

A divorce rethought.

2010-08-18T00:04:00.001+05:30

The family reunion fell on a great date, our wedding anniversary. We celebrated our 50th on August 6. How we managed to make it for 50 years is anyone's guess, but it was not without its ups and huge downturns. Make it we did!

I am told we are a dying breed, a vanishing species. I guess that's quite true. In the 70s I wanted a divorce, and left my husband with my four little boys and went back to my home town. I spent a lot of time with a psychiatrist and finally, after two years felt that I could make decisions. Then I looked around me. Yes, women were flocking to the divorce court because they could. Most ended up divorced, on welfare, and if not on welfare, certainly much poorer. I decided that would not be my future, nor would I allow my children to end up in poverty. So I swallowed my pride and returned to my husband. I told him why, but he agreed that we should try to make it work. And with my new found vision, we were able to make it. Mind you, it wasn't easy. We quarreled a lot, but we had a rich life traveling from one country to another, our children received excellent educations and we found something in each other worth respecting.

Above is the crowd with one family missing, who chose not to come and celebrate with us.

Our triplet grandsons, who are five years old.

Our Grandaughters 6 and 2

Hindi

2010-07-31T01:47:00.001+05:30

Hindi is the language of 30% of the speaking population in India. I learned Hindi many years ago, and have been able to get around, evem as the language dwindled in my deteriorating brain. However, luckily I can still read the script so with the help of Rosetta Stone Hindi Level 1, 2 & 3 Set with Audio Companion. I am reviewing and establishing the language once again.

I have used a number of computer programs for learning a language. If you take your time and pay attention, the Rosetta Stone is the best of all I have tried. First you get the vocabulary, then the vocabulary is put into sentences. Normally, very simple sentences. Pronunciation with the computer speaking the words and sentences and you mimic it. When it is not well done, you have to repeat. Reading and writing bring up the end. If I get more than one wrong, I repeat and of course that is the way to learn. Repetition. The way children learn.

2010-07-26T20:34:00.005+05:30

Kai, Sena and Jun having fun on animals they can drive themselves.

Bologna

2010-07-14T03:42:00.004+05:30

There are many photos I have not shown. This is a trip with our daughter and son-in-law to Italy, Bologna , May 2009. For the three of them it was a journey into new tastes of sausages, cheeses and different cuts of meat. I am a vegetarian, so for me it was a trip with my daughter and her daughter. Everyone came out with something positive.

Dick with his grandchild, Chiara, on the Piazza in Bologna

This is the church that has been unfinished since the 16th century.

Chiara couldn't resist the bike that some little girl left on the Piazza.

Flowers spilling out into the street.

And there is seafood of many colors.

And lots of fruit and vegetables. The Italians certainly know how to show off their wares.

Let's not forget the shops full of cheese and sausages.

Here is Chiara with her favorite restaurant owner.

From Du to Gnadige Herr

2010-07-14T03:40:00.002+05:30

Denmark has a classless society. That doesn't mean that there no difference between rich and poor, and it doesn't mean that there are not those who hate immigrants and wish they could be sent back to their country of origin.

Everyone says du to each other which is the informal. Everyone is called by his or her first name.

There's a queen and her family, who are not paid by the state as the royalty is in England,, but they are a mill for the popular magazines and gossip sheets. They have no power running the government.

Ihere are those who long for a different time. Last night we had dinner with a friend and his mother. The head of the house is an 88 year old matriarch, who not only made the meal, but served each person at the table. I don't do that when I have guests and surely wouldn't do it at her age. I guess she grew up expecting to serve the people invited to her house.

Apparently in the Danish society, one has a meal and then sits for hours after the food is finished, because we weren't able to leave for more than two hours after dessert was served. Remember that when you are invited to dinner in Denmark.

In Danish businesses, the lowest man or woman in the company has access to the CEO and is expected to do his/her job without oversight. Doing your job well is expected and no one gives you kudos for getting your job done. Doesn't sound like any company in America.

The Danes go to work in their overalls, and their shirt wrinkled, and I mean in big companies where they meet clients. They dress to the teeth when they are invited to dinner at someone's house: suit, tie, white shirt. My husband asked a man why he dressed up in a suit when he was invited to dinner. "It would be an insult to the hostess to show up in their khakis," he said. Then my husband asked, "Don't you think your business clients are insulted when you dress so informally when you meet them?"

New Jersey

2010-07-13T04:16:00.000+05:30

We spent a few days with our son Lester in Metuchen, New Jersey. It is a quaint little town near Edison, that has neither an Inn, a bed and breakfast, a hotel or motel. However, it is a sweet, cute, little place with a very interesting Main Street, with restaurants, coffee shops, a home grown drug store, etc. As my daughter,Clio, reminds her brother how lucky he is to live in such a fantasy place. There is the town drugstore, not Walgreen's which has been pushed to the edge of town and can only be reached by car, but a local drugstore run by a local. There are a half dozen restaurants, some sweet little bars I used to frequent with my daughter-in-law, who now considers me the devil incarnate. (She and my son are getting a divorce.)

There are two secondhand book stores, where you can buy a book for a dollar. Fantastic really. And two coffee shops where WIFI exists and you can sit for hours over a coffee and do your work.

The best part of the trip was seeing our three grandsons: triplets who are going on six.

Iceland Cathedral

2010-07-12T17:23:00.000+05:30

This is a photo taken by a friend on Second Life. It is the Cathedral Hallgrimskirkja. I thought it would be nice to see some photos of Iceland since they are now suffering. The country is unbelievably beautiful. Thank you Emmanual.

Human transporters

2010-07-03T09:34:00.000+05:30

In Old Delhi, where billions of rupees change hands everyday, many products are transported from place to place as above, by a human transporter. Still we find people in the Middle Ages.

Modes of Travel---The Scooter

2010-07-01T20:36:00.000+05:30

This scooter called the Three Wheeler is another way to travel from place to place. It is a taxi of sorts and another way to get your thrills. Most of them are running LP gas and don't contribute to the impossible amount of pollution in the big cities. However their drivers are anything but safe. They spin in and out of traffic as if they were a Hummer, and most Western tourists close their eyes and clench their fists.

Be sure to settle on a cost before you get into the scooter, or you will end up paying the same amount you would for a regular car taxi.

The Caretaker

2010-06-28T20:56:00.000+05:30

Across the road from where I stay is a small mosque like building. Muslims come there to pray and children gather every week for sweets. This man is its caretaker.

India: mode of travel

2010-06-27T21:39:00.000+05:30

Through Old and New Delhi and in all the cities and towns of India, you will be able to take a bicycle rickshaw. However, you have to be good at negotiating, because there is no set price.

Traveling the Roads of India

2010-06-25T20:37:00.001+05:30

Traveling in Rajasthan you may see a transport of this type.

Hamburg

2010-05-22T21:21:00.003+05:30

Today is our last day in Hamburg. So far in the last two weeks we have had one day of sun. Most of the time it rained, and especially in Poland, it was impossible to take photos. However, I was able to get a number yesterday, and though it was overcast today, I took some more.

Before I put the photos up, I want to remark on the number of changes I've seen in the Germans since we lived here in 1986. The people are friendlier, and they smile more often. I have had impromptu conversations in restaurants, coffee shops and in shops. It helps that we speak German, but in the old days, the Germans acted as if they didn't like each other, much less someone from the U.S.

The prices are within reason, unlike Paris. A decent meal has cost us as little as 7-8 Euros and a decent bottle of wine as little as 13 Euros in a restaurant. Yes, the dollar is stronger than last January, but in terms of the Euro, things are better here. Unfortunately the Germans are the only country with a strong enough economy to help the failing ones in the south, which I'm afraid may be their undoing.

There are a number of vegetarian dishes on every menu and the dishes are more than adequate.

We went to an expensive restaurant and were terribly disappointed. The asparagus looked and tasted like milk with a few asparagus pieces and the risotto was runny. I suppose I should have looked for a great one on the Internet, but instead we went to Kneipes and Stubes and were perfectly happy. It reminded us of our youth when we sat in a small Stube, and I smoked a pipe to irritate the people in the bar.

I can say that I'm happy we've spent some time here.

Here is the one side of the railway station. It looks like the old side. Though in this case I am guessing.

This is the other side. One is called the Nordbahnhof and the other the Sudbahnhof. But they are both in the same building.

This is the Rathaus or the City hall. Dick and I were laughing because in German the City hall is called the Rathaus and in Danish it is called the raadhus. Maybe this is supposed to signify the people who spend their time making laws etc for the country? I don't know, but it is interesting. Well, I know that Rat geben is to give advice.

Hamburg is a port city, so we needed one of these.

Here is the place we had lunch on the Alster Pavillion and there is a small view of the city.

There is Dick giving great advice to our friends, family and any children who might be reading.

The Kindle

2010-05-18T18:58:00.003+05:30

After years I couldn't imagine putting books aside for an i-reader. How could I possibly not have a book in my hand, turn those pages, smell the print, underline and make notes along the edge and, yes, even turn down the corners to find my place..

But reality set in as I realized I could no longer lift the extra six or seven pounds of books I carry with me when I travel and that, since I have to carry a smaller and smaller bag, I need to either throw out my clothes or throw out my books. Throwing out my clothes would be fine, but I imagine a month on the road with the same outfit would become boring, not to say how it might smell.

So I decided to buy a kindle. Amazon won out because it is in 100 different countries and I wanted as much flexibility as possible.

It was the best decision I have ever made. No longer do I have five, six or seven lbs of books packed in my suitcase, but just this one streamlined digital reader. It can be read anywhere books can be read and you turn the pages with a flick of the thumb. Everything is kept under the home button and you can see how far you have read by the amount of darkened dots under the title. When you open the book it takes you to the page you left off, and you can underline and put notes on the pages of your choice. If you want to find a page or chapter, you can flip from chapter to chapter heading.

Everyday I get the NY times. I pay for it of course. But I find that I now have time to read it, sitting in the coffee shop, riding the train and it takes up no space and I don't have to throw away the paper. If I like an article I clip it and it is added to my clippings. It also tells me when the new one has arrived.

If I need a new book, I go to the kindle store, write in the title and wallah, there it is sixty seconds later.I bought books in Denmark and Poland so far and intend to in Germany tomorrow, just to prove I can.

The books are cheaper than the book you buy at the store or from your internet store, and the classics are around $1 of $2. And remember, it will never wear out.

Some disadvantages: I can't do the crossword or the suboku, however.And the pictures are not in color. Frankly, I know that will come one day and I will give the old one to my husband, who will also find it handy, because we have tons of paper in our house we have to recycle.

Meeting the Man you're Married to again

2010-05-18T15:52:00.003+05:30

I look at my husband with new respect. He gets up at 6am, goes off to lecture the whole day, has dinner and gets back at 10pm and then does the same thing the next day, if he isn't racing for some plane or train to reach the next gig. And shockingly, he is not in a bad mood, not moaning as he does at home, that he's not feeling well, or complaining that I haven't done something correctly, like putting the dishes in the dishwasher as he thinks it should be done among others.

I thought he should retire, but no more. Home is toxic for him, work is his life. And though there are those that find that unfortunate (and shouldn't he forced to have a good time), it is what he is and one must respect and accept it. Not everyone likes to golf, fish or hunt, as men in my family do and did. And so I don't see a long retirement for Dick until he really can't get on that plane or train.

Grade free and rank Free Schools

2010-05-06T19:07:00.002+05:30

In our tiny village, the school board has decided to do away with grading and ranking in the high school. Without the input of their teachers, the taxpayers, or the parents of the students attending the school, they have waived grades and rankings as inhibiting factors for our children's education. President Obama said that our students need to be better prepared to meet and compete with students from around the world.

What did Obama mean when he said our children need to be better educated? Let us take a look at students around the world. In India, pupils in the elementary grades are learning advanced mathematics by the time they reach the age of nine. They are expected to know a minimum of two languages when the reach middle school, their own and English. Most pupils are able to speak two or three Indian languages as well as English before they reach middle school.

Pupils in China must memorize 5,000 characters before they can read their newspaper and 12,000 characters in order to enter the university. Their ability to memorize is unequaled. This doesn't stop them from studying mathematics at much higher levels in the high schools than we study here.

In Singapore, students will take eight A level exams before they graduate, while in England the populace is happy if their students learn and take two A levels.

When I state some of these figures, people brush it aside, saying that foreign students learn by rote and our children are learning to think critically and analyze.. Yes, that is true. In the early years Asian students do learn by rote. But when they begin analyzing and thinking critically they have a wealth of material to think about critically. They aren't playing catch-up in their teens and their twenties.

Japanese Schools have classes without grades and without rankings. But they have had this system for some time. The difference is that the teachers develop the curriculum, and are not expected to teach a curriculum that is handed down from so called experts who have never taught a class. The teachers are interested in all of their children succeeding. If there are many first grade classes, all the teachers help out the students who are falling behind. They will spend extra hours doing this.

I'm afraid that the classes in Oregon, Wisconsin will end up teaching our children even less than they do now. The bright ones who want to be ranked so they can go to top universities will go to private schools, and the failure rate will only increase.

Birthday celebration in LA

2010-05-06T18:44:00.006+05:30

Clio, my daughter, took me out for a belated birthday celebration. We went to THE BAZAAR, which was truly a bizarre, but wonderful experience. The bar restaurant was altra modern, with LCD lights, mirrors and everything in metal.

First we drank a dirty martini and a margarita. The salt was in the foam and the martini's brine was also in the brine. When Clio reached the bottom of her drink there was a ball, and when she bit down on it, it filled her mouth with olive liquid. MMMM.

Clio ordered a Mohito with candy floss on top.

I had a Manhattan made with bourbon, strong, a beautiful color and very good.

We started out with sweet potato chips dipped in a cream sauce.

The second dish was Patatas Gravas, which had potatoes and eggs in this egg like container.

This was tuna caviche, which looked like an eel wrapped in leaves.

Japanese eggplant served with fish flakes that waved in the slight movement of air in the room.

We ordered Japanese Tacos. These were very delicate, but I ate the paper with them.

We munched on chocolate covered raspberries.

This went well with Foie Gras covered with cotton candy.

For dessert Clio had chocolate heart and I had a small cake with a candle.

It was a great meal, wonderful drinks and good company. What else do you want?

Live and Let Live.

2010-03-26T18:42:00.000+05:30

I remember after I had my first child in Germany, my father was bragging to his friend that his daughter--me-- had her baby without drugs, NATURAL childbirth, as if that is some kind of virtue. Let's face facts, every peasant does this without a doctor present, wraps up the baby and goes back to work. So I didn't feel proud. Instead, in front of his friend, I said, "Yes, dad, how would you like to push a 10 inch ball through a 3 inch hole? He gasped, but stopped bragging.

Let's face facts, there isn't a man alive who wouldn't scream for a shot once he experienced the pain a woman goes through bringing a baby into the world. And he would never have a second one. Even my son holds up Japanese women as virtuous, because their MALE doctors won't give them pain medicine during labor. The doctors feel that women should have pain in childbirth, because that's natural. I wonder if those same doctors would let cancer take its course without medicine?

I was very young when we lived in Germany the first time, and every old woman felt she could tell me what to do. Nurses forced me to nurse even when I was running a fever. They told me I wasn't allowed to cough while nursing my baby, as if I had a lot of control over it. Richy was weak because he was suffering from jaundice, and the nurse would yell at me because he didn't get enough to eat. Finally I just said no. No more nursing. The baby will survive on formula. And he did.

Now we have these Nazi type nurses in the U.S. Not everyone can nurse, and not everyone wants to. It is more important that the mother be happy. If you want a happy baby you need a happy mother.

I am an asthmatic, and have been criticized through the years for taking medicine that stops or prevents the attacks. At the Italian border when I was returning home to Florence, the dogs grabbed me by the ankle and laid down on my bags. Luckily I always carried a prescription with me. I took out the medicine and the security man shook his head. "This stuff can be lethal, " he said. "What should I do when I can't breath?" I asked. "At least this helps." "I would never take it," he said with that disgusting moral attitude. But then it is easy for anyone to say if he doesn't suffer from asthma.

What is it about the human being that he need to make everyone do things his or her way? Suggestions are welcome, but to say that my way is the only way is ridiculous.

Today It snowed

2010-03-21T07:10:00.000+05:30

After days of beautiful weather, we woke up to at least three inches of snow on the ground. Frankly it is a bit depressing. Though, however, the temperature is supposed to go up to a point where it will melt, just seeing it after this winter makes me angry.

Can you believe this photo? Annie and I stood at the door, disbelieving our eyes.

We have dozens of tree limbs that broke during the winter, and now with the weight of this snow, I'm sure more will break. Oh well, we will get a bit off exercise piling them. And luckily we have a lot of trees, so no one will notice when it's cleaned up.

So I thought it would all melt, but I was wrong. Let's hope it doesn't snow again.

Burying a friend, a brother.

2010-03-18T16:53:00.000+05:30

A week has passed and I have not written my blog. We buried Dick's brother in a wonderful ceremony at the First Lutheran Church in Janesville. I was surprised that Norm had been cremated, since Lutheran ideology believes in resurrection of the body, which normally means that the body must remain whole when buried. This is also a precept of the Catholic Church. But of course if you believe that God is all powerful, than resurrection should be possible even with cremation.

Norm was a very popular figure in his town. More than 200 people came to the funeral, and many more stopped by to give their condolences. He had been instrumental in developing Driver's Education in the high school, which was copied all over the state of Wisconsin and the nation. He was active in the church and in the community.

We are going to miss him. Luckily we had seen him and Jane often in the last few years.

Louisiana

2010-03-12T17:19:00.002+05:30

The last day in Denmark Dick and I spent at the Louisiana with our very good friends, Jette and Kjeld.

No, the Louisiana is not a fried chicken restaurant, though I know the name makes one think of that. It is a very dignified, modern art museum. And it is located in the tiny village of Humlebaek, which makes me think of hobbits. Even the houses have the look of Middle Earth.

I love the way the roof seems to hug the ground.

I think the rooves are thatched. And moss grows on it.

Jette and Kjeld are from a tiny village near Horsens---I love these names. They both adore going through museums, and going with them makes it more fun for us.

There was a wonderful exhibition of the same artists we saw at D'Orsay in Paris, 19th and 20th century artists like Matisse, Kokoshka, Renoir and Van Gogh. We weren't allowed to take photographs at this museum, even without a flash.

Afterwards, we drove down the coast and saw little fishing villages. It was a wonderful day.

Arriving Home

2010-03-10T22:23:00.000+05:30

The afternoon before last we arrived expecting winds, storms, snow, hellish rain and tornadoes. Chicago was as warm as Paris was freezing. There was a drizzle and then the sun came out. I opened my coat, which had been plastered on for nine weeks and sighed at the tranquility I felt. Who would've thought that the weather in Chicago would put Paris to shame.

Unfortunately we found out that Dick's brother had died at ten that morning, so we missed saying goodbye by five hours. Thankfully, he didn't suffer long. A death of someone you care about is always sad, and now he leaves a vacuum which will take some time to fill.

Our house was still standing and in good condition. Thank goodness for that. Our friends, Tina and Bob, picked us up at the bus station and brought us home. They had also turned on the heat and water, so everything was ready for us to move back in.

Yesterday we got Annie, our sweet little dog, so our little family is now complete.

However, we came back to mountains of mail, broken tree branches, muddy driveway, among others. That is, however, always the case when we travel.

Since I don't want to lose the French I learned, I have to get on that as well. And I have to gather information for our website, which will be used by people who read our book.

Rude people in Norway

2010-03-07T13:46:00.000+05:30

Everyone talks about how the rude people in Paris are. Strangely enough I never had a single person be rude to me or act indifferent. But yesterday we found both types in of all places, Norway. I have only heard good things about this country, or maybe the people I know are prejudiced. We were shocked.

It started when I wanted to take a tour of Oslo. We were supposed to gather at the Radisson hotel and wait there. I went in and registered and told the woman behind the desk I would wait until she called me. It was way below zero outside and frankly I was hoping to avoid standing outside in the freezing cold. She agreed and I sat down right in front of her with my book.. The time came and went and nothing. When I asked again, I was told I had never registered, and when I pointed out the person who had taken the registration, she turned her back on me. I honestly don't think I was impolite, but maybe it was something I said."There's another tour tomorrow," I was told. We were leaving late in the afternoon. Thanks guys.

I was going to help Dick out and check out of the hotel. I told the receptionist and she said,"Somebody has to pay half the charge." The school was paying for Dick, and yes we had to pay, but it was the way it was said, as if I were going to run out the door without paying the bill. I said my husband would have to take care of it. She answered, well, if he must. Okay, maybe my face was green or my hair wasn't combed properly.

Then when we got on the bus, I asked to have my backpack, which was terribly heavy, put in the baggage compartment. The driver snapped at me. "No, we don't do that!!" But from the airport, the man did put it in with the baggage.

Then at the airport, we put our luggage up on the scale. The woman said, "You have three bags." "Yes," Dick said. "But you're only allowed one. You have to pay for the other two." she said. "Yes," Dick said, and pulled some bills out of his wallet. "We don't take cash. If you want to pay cash, you have to take your luggage over there and get in that line." I am looking for a sign that says only credit cards. There was no sign. But we shrugged and pulled out the credit card. The hanging bag is usually put in a box, and Dick said that. "If you want a box, you will have to queue in that line over there. Needless to say we will never take Norwegian Air again.

Yes, I was upset. After I thought about it, I realized that I was also different. In France, hearing all the negative stories, I engaged everyone. Smiling, complimenting the clerk or waiter, I didn't let them distance me and therefore making it easy for them to be rude. When we left France, I crawled back into my shell, expecting things to go smoothly. These service people should not have been rude, but I could have made more effort as well. Yes, in this case you can blame the victim. Communication is a two way street.

Having a baby in France

2010-03-03T22:09:00.000+05:30

When Adam and Martha Gopnik in the book, Paris to the Moon, went to the obstetrician, and Martha found she was pregnant for a second time, she was told to stop eating raw vegetables and told to drink a glass of red wine everyday.

Don't eat raw vegetables? What nonsense is that? That would have been my answer. But apparently there is a good reason. "Toxoplasmosis---a mild parasitic infection that is devastating to unborn children---though it's rare in America (this is found in cat litter), it is common in France." (p103. In the essay," Like a King" by Gopnik.) Red wine on the other hand is high in iron and acts as an anti-spasmodic. This makes sense to me. I can't really believe that if you are careful and drink one glass of wine a day or one beer, as the Germans have done for generations, it can hurt your baby. What did the people in the middle ages do when their calories came from alcohol and mead, which is alcohol mixed with honey? They hardly stopped drinking. But then the French doctor didn't say you could drink tons of alcohol either, and that's where the difference is, of course.

I looked for an article on taxoplasmosis and found the following: http://kidshealth.org/parent/infections/parasitic/toxoplasmosis.html# In this article and one other, it explains that 50% of French women have this parasite, but build up an immunity over the years. However, to make sure that the baby doesn't get it through the mother's blood, she should not only cook the vegetables but also make sure the meat is well cooked. So as good as the meals are in France, the food is still not hygienically as clean as the food in the states is. Maybe that is a generalization, but how would the vegetables and meat become infected with kitty litter, which is of course, cat feces?

The mother stays in the hospital three to four days. And she is given something that looks like a dildo she is supposed to take to the physical therapist. It is an electric gadget that helps get her uterus back to normal and helps her avoid incontinence.

After the baby is born, the French woman nurses her baby for three months, because after three months, the breasts start to sag. I don't know why they would sag only after three months, but that seems to be the myth here, and in the medical opinion keeping your breasts beautiful for your marriage is as important as nursing your baby for more than three months. According to three of the books I've read, the medical profession thinks that the baby gets enough nourishment from the mother in those first three months.Who says culture doesn't determine the way the medical profession thinks?

Oslo

2010-03-02T19:50:00.000+05:30

I have decided to do the impossible, take a tour. We have so little time here, there's no time to just wander around and see things.

But first impressions are good. The Norwegians are hardy people. We came in by bus last night from the airport. Most people had light jackets on. The bus driver was wearing a suit coat. Maybe he had long underwear on. And it was -9C, in the teens fahrenheit.

We awoke to brilliant sunshine and blue skies. Pleasant. Then we went to breakfast. Like Denmark, a veritable feast. There's a cheese, brown, looks kind of like cardboard, but it was really good. It is goat cheese, Norwegian style. I would like to bring some home. It melts in your mouth. MMM.

So tomorrow after the tour I will have more to say.

Some last notes on Paris

2010-03-01T15:47:00.001+05:30

I have had an odd stomach since I arrived. I can eat one meal and then I just don't feel up to par. Not sick, but yukky full all of the time. The French think it is liver problems, but I really don't think so. Anyway, Dick has had the same problem, and when he went to Denmark three weeks ago it disappeared only to reappear on his return. I'm not quite sure what that means, if it's the fat or sauces or whatever. But it is a feeling I don't like.

Otherwise, things have been fine. I miss going to class this morning. It's not only learning French, but the people you meet.

There was Fatima from Saudi Arabia, who has a house in Washington DC, a house in Saudi Arabia and some sort of living conditions here in Paris. She has four sons, two who are Americans, and she told me about the times she'd been profiled while going through customs.

There is Monica, a Norwegian, a very sweet shy lady, who befriended me right away despite my terrible personality. She invited Dick and me to dinner where we met her very nice husband Jan.

There is Xen, who is from mainland China and married to a German and hoping to get pregnant soon.

There is Nina, who is 35 but looks like a student of 18 from Brazil and really funny.

There is Saint Claire, who is an older guy from Brazil, who had to work with me in class and was always horrified at my ideas, and when the others in the group went along with me, shouted he wasn't responsible.

There is Claudio from Italy, who was a great voice in the group, but I'm afraid he fell for the teacher, who is really quite cute, if not the best teacher around.

Guido from Venice, who speaks French pretty well but no other language, except of course Italian.

And Christine, who went to New York university, speaks German and English and is struggling with the rest of us.

And last but not least Joseba, a guy from the Basque region, who played my son in a skit we did.

Yes, it was a real international experience, and one which I truly adore.

On our way

2010-02-28T22:39:00.000+05:30

I am sad to leave Paris, but luckily I have a month's trip to plan in India. That makes me very happy, because my first love is India. And the more I see of it, the more I like it. So I will be doing a lot of blogs about India in the next few months, as I do the reading and pull out the hundreds of photos I have.

But tomorrow I leave with hubby for Norway, the nation of our ancestors. My mother's parents came to the states in their youth, met there and married. So there is a special spot in my heart for this country.Dick's father's parents did the same. They came as children and met and married.

We will only be staying in Oslo, but I'm sure I can keep myself busy while Dick works. And then we will celebrate my birthday there.

I have seen how cold it is, a little above freezing during the day and plunging into the minuses at night. I hope the hotel has a good heater.

Then on the 4th we leave for Copenhagen, where Dick continues to work and I will meet some friends. On the 8th we leave for the states, and return to all the problems we left behind. Ugh!

Paris may be the city of lights, but we saw little of that while we were here. Today, the temperature has dropped again and everyone is curling back into their heavy coats, scarves, mittens and hats. Oh well a couple days of relief are better than nothing.

Cafe de Flore and Cafe Deux Magots

2010-02-28T16:42:00.004+05:30

When we came here in the 1980s, we had decided to see the Louvre. But first we would sit for an hour or two and have a drink at the Cafe Deux Magots and watch the people pass by. With our innate sense of inertia, the people watching won out and the Louvre got left somewhere dangling. However, we loved the waiters racing down the street, the magicians and the mimes along with all the so-called celebrities, of whom I did not recognize a one.

And so in our romantic attachment to reliving a happy experience, we went back to Les Deux Magots. We easily found a seat, not outside with the wind and cold temperatures and huddled smoking bodies, but next to the window inside. Now, of course, there were no magicians, no mimes, no waiters racing down the street with their wine bottles balanced on a tray, just a lot of cold people who had heard that this was the place to be. Or was it? The place to be, I mean.

We did see a man eating pate and he had bread on his plate. Would he spread the pate? Would he cut the bread? And so I stared as I usually do when I find something interesting. He did not cut the bread but tore it into pieces, then he took a piece of pate, put it in his mouth and followed it with a piece of bread. He must be well educated, as is said here, because he knew the etiquette of eating pate and bread.

We also saw what looked like an advertisement being filmed, or maybe it was just a guy who worked for television doing an interview at the cafe. Who knows, but we had fun guessing.

Bored we decided to go to the Cafe de Flore, practically next door, though everyone claims it's across the street, which turns out to be little more than an alley. This was sardine time. The place was packed and Dick was dizzy, so we needed to buy some food. We waited a bit and finally found a place to sit down, where I've said in another blog I had a whiskey and Dick had a sundae with lots of chocolate sauce, whipped cream and a cherry. Here, however, people dressed in Valentino and Givenchy were piling in and pushing their way into the inner sanctum. We left about half an hour later and noticed that Le Flore was packed, but Deux Magots was almost empty. I mentioned this to Dick while taking some photos, but by this time he was doing battle with Paris traffic and the conversation was dropped.

Later I picked up a book by Adam Gopnik who discusses this problem at length. Apparently sometime after we had been here in the '80s, Deux Magots lost favor with the IN crowd, whatever and whoever that is. Not only does everyone who is anyone go to Cafe de Flore, but they go inside and upstairs. Because let's face it, why would you sit downstairs with the rabble?

So if this is important to you, and you want to see Julie Roberts or Angeline and Brad, then fight your way to a table upstairs. If, however, you want to watch the people go by, outside on the terrace at either Cafe Deux Magots or Cafe de Flore is the place to be.