Saturday, 20 February 2010
Travels of a Small Brown Suitcase part III
The woman is no longer in posession of the aforementioned Small Brown Suitcase. A Large Blue Suitcase, containing Small Brown Suitcase, vanished under most mysterious circumstances in Atlanta, Georgia. The woman suspects that Small Brown Suitcase is fully responsible for infecting Large Blue Suitcase with a travel bug. The woman is hoping that the new owner of the Small Brown Suitcase can fully appreciate and enable the mischievous and adventurous nature of this bag.
Travels of a Small Brown Suitcase part II
The woman spent three nights sleeping in her contact lenses, which did wonderful things for both her eyes and her mood. Unfortunately she was blind as a bat with no vision correction devices to aid her weak eyes. And contacts were so trashed from flying and sleeping, that she was afraid to take them out-that they would crumble in her hands, and then she would be able to see nothing at all. Of course her glasses were on the European travel adventure with the rest of the bag.
As the woman was a "take charge of her life" kinda gal, she spent many hours on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday on the telephone. Talking to the poor, helpless baggage claim authorities in Frankfurt (who were VERY polite and understanding on the phone), squeezing money for new contacts out of Air Berlin airlines directly, attempting to reason with very rude Danish airport personnel, shrieking and throwing the phone when the Danish baggage retrieval authority telephone line made the following announcement every half hour when she called: "We are sorry, but due to an unusually heavy workload, we cannot take your call right now." Beep, beep, beep, beep (throwing the woman out of the telephone line)
The woman's daughter spent the days reminding her mother how much she "really really wanted her new soccer shoes, and wasn't it a wonderful day to go out and kick". Her son kept telling the woman that her eyes were all red and runny, and wouldn't it be nice to be able to eat the octopus salad that was in the brown bag, and didn't the woman know how much he LOVED octopus salad, and what a special treat was floating around undeservedly in Denmark.
In the meantime, Air Berlin told the woman that she should make a detailed list of all items in this wayward bag, and that Air Berlin would be so kind as to replace them on the 6th day of the little brown bag's solo adventure. The woman was NOT pleased at this idea, she did not want new things, but her own shabby little brown bag back. Her daughter was NOT pleased either, because she wanted the shoes that had been bought for her as a gift, and not replacement shoes. The woman's son said "Cool, you can make a really elaborate list, and get new shoes for ME too!" Little opportunist that he is.
And then suddenly, on Saturday afternoon, and with no warning, the doorbell rang. The dog barked in the yard (her signal that was a strange adult in front of the door). The woman opened the gate to the yard to find a gigantic, bald-headed man standing there. A big scary-looking guy, who nevertheless had a very friendly expression on his face. A man who greeted the dog who was sniffing his crotch by then with "hey Du fines Tier, Du, bist Du ein lieber Kerl" (did notphase the dog's frantic crotch-sniffing one whit to be taken for a male dog, when she is not) and a man who was proudly clutching the woman's small brown bag.
There was alot of rejoycing taking place in the woman's yard that moment. The woman was smiling. The big scary-looking bald headed man was smiling. The children were jumping up and down and trying to snatch the bag out of the man's hands. The dog stopped sniffing long enough to prance around and chase her tail (her version of celebrating) A quick examination was made of the bag's contents. None were missing, nor the worse for wear and tear. The little girl had tears of delight in her eyes when she had her new shoes in her hands. And the big, scary-looking man looked genuinly pleased with himself, and was enjoying the delight that his presence brought to the woman's yard. The woman sent him on his way with a nice tip, a handshake, and many smiles.
The brown bag was covered with stickers in Danish, saying "rush" and things like that, but otherwise had nothing to tell about its big adventure, all alone in Copenhagen. The woman and the brown bag have to do this whole trip backwards again, very very early tomorrow morning, and the woman is somewhat concerned about what adventures might befall her small brown duffel bag the next time she travels with it.
As the woman was a "take charge of her life" kinda gal, she spent many hours on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday on the telephone. Talking to the poor, helpless baggage claim authorities in Frankfurt (who were VERY polite and understanding on the phone), squeezing money for new contacts out of Air Berlin airlines directly, attempting to reason with very rude Danish airport personnel, shrieking and throwing the phone when the Danish baggage retrieval authority telephone line made the following announcement every half hour when she called: "We are sorry, but due to an unusually heavy workload, we cannot take your call right now." Beep, beep, beep, beep (throwing the woman out of the telephone line)
The woman's daughter spent the days reminding her mother how much she "really really wanted her new soccer shoes, and wasn't it a wonderful day to go out and kick". Her son kept telling the woman that her eyes were all red and runny, and wouldn't it be nice to be able to eat the octopus salad that was in the brown bag, and didn't the woman know how much he LOVED octopus salad, and what a special treat was floating around undeservedly in Denmark.
In the meantime, Air Berlin told the woman that she should make a detailed list of all items in this wayward bag, and that Air Berlin would be so kind as to replace them on the 6th day of the little brown bag's solo adventure. The woman was NOT pleased at this idea, she did not want new things, but her own shabby little brown bag back. Her daughter was NOT pleased either, because she wanted the shoes that had been bought for her as a gift, and not replacement shoes. The woman's son said "Cool, you can make a really elaborate list, and get new shoes for ME too!" Little opportunist that he is.
And then suddenly, on Saturday afternoon, and with no warning, the doorbell rang. The dog barked in the yard (her signal that was a strange adult in front of the door). The woman opened the gate to the yard to find a gigantic, bald-headed man standing there. A big scary-looking guy, who nevertheless had a very friendly expression on his face. A man who greeted the dog who was sniffing his crotch by then with "hey Du fines Tier, Du, bist Du ein lieber Kerl" (did notphase the dog's frantic crotch-sniffing one whit to be taken for a male dog, when she is not) and a man who was proudly clutching the woman's small brown bag.
There was alot of rejoycing taking place in the woman's yard that moment. The woman was smiling. The big scary-looking bald headed man was smiling. The children were jumping up and down and trying to snatch the bag out of the man's hands. The dog stopped sniffing long enough to prance around and chase her tail (her version of celebrating) A quick examination was made of the bag's contents. None were missing, nor the worse for wear and tear. The little girl had tears of delight in her eyes when she had her new shoes in her hands. And the big, scary-looking man looked genuinly pleased with himself, and was enjoying the delight that his presence brought to the woman's yard. The woman sent him on his way with a nice tip, a handshake, and many smiles.
The brown bag was covered with stickers in Danish, saying "rush" and things like that, but otherwise had nothing to tell about its big adventure, all alone in Copenhagen. The woman and the brown bag have to do this whole trip backwards again, very very early tomorrow morning, and the woman is somewhat concerned about what adventures might befall her small brown duffel bag the next time she travels with it.
Travels of a Small Brown Suitcase
Here is part I of the first of the Sevillian Chronicles short stories.
The woman was somewhat shocked to discover that the most cost-effective route between Sevilla and Frankfurt was via Palma de Mallorca. Not Barcelona, not Madrid, but Palma. "Oh well," she said to herself while fighting through Air Berlin's complicated, yet user-friendly online booking system, "have never been to Mallorca, so can at least see it from the air".
As was a short weekend trip, the woman only had one small duffel bag with her. She had to check it though, due to strict flight regulations against carrying on such things as toothpaste. (we all know how dangerous a strong, anti-cavity substance can be), so she checked said bag in Sevilla, via Palma, ending up in Frankfurt. Bag was an ancient, brown sport duffel bag, with a whopping 4 kilos.
Flight itself between Sevilla and Palma was uneventful. The woman had a wonderful view of Palma from the air, and all was good. Was a small problem in the Palma airport with a drunken, annoying Argentinian shouting about having 10,000 euros in his sock, who was very annoyingly and persistantly attached to the woman. Unfortunately he was also on the same plane, but is another story.
So the woman finally landed in Frankfurt, in the middle of the night, and was waiting at the baggage belt with her new friend from the plane, who helped her shake the annoying Argentinian. She waited and waited, but her bag did not come. She was very annoyed, because the bag not only contained the dangerous toothpaste, but solution for her contact lenses, AND the brand-new soccer shoes that were a birthday gift for her daughter, from the woman's new boss in Spain. The very first brand-new pair of soccer shoes the woman's daughter had ever owned, so was precious cargo indeed!
The woman found out the next day that her bag had made a journey from Palma, not to Frankfurt, but to Copenhagen. The day after that the woman learned that the proper Danish airline employees seemed incapable of dealing with the matter of this missing brown bag, and were refusing ALL communication with the baggage authorities in Frankfurt. Needless to say, the woman's daughter was asking her every 5 minutes when the bag is coming, and her son was asking too, as he was anxiously awaiting the tin of Spanish octopus salad that was also in the bag.
On the 3rd day, the bag wass still missing. Stay tuned for further adventures of this small brown bag and its solitary trip to Copenhagen, eluding the Danish baggage handlers.
The woman was somewhat shocked to discover that the most cost-effective route between Sevilla and Frankfurt was via Palma de Mallorca. Not Barcelona, not Madrid, but Palma. "Oh well," she said to herself while fighting through Air Berlin's complicated, yet user-friendly online booking system, "have never been to Mallorca, so can at least see it from the air".
As was a short weekend trip, the woman only had one small duffel bag with her. She had to check it though, due to strict flight regulations against carrying on such things as toothpaste. (we all know how dangerous a strong, anti-cavity substance can be), so she checked said bag in Sevilla, via Palma, ending up in Frankfurt. Bag was an ancient, brown sport duffel bag, with a whopping 4 kilos.
Flight itself between Sevilla and Palma was uneventful. The woman had a wonderful view of Palma from the air, and all was good. Was a small problem in the Palma airport with a drunken, annoying Argentinian shouting about having 10,000 euros in his sock, who was very annoyingly and persistantly attached to the woman. Unfortunately he was also on the same plane, but is another story.
So the woman finally landed in Frankfurt, in the middle of the night, and was waiting at the baggage belt with her new friend from the plane, who helped her shake the annoying Argentinian. She waited and waited, but her bag did not come. She was very annoyed, because the bag not only contained the dangerous toothpaste, but solution for her contact lenses, AND the brand-new soccer shoes that were a birthday gift for her daughter, from the woman's new boss in Spain. The very first brand-new pair of soccer shoes the woman's daughter had ever owned, so was precious cargo indeed!
The woman found out the next day that her bag had made a journey from Palma, not to Frankfurt, but to Copenhagen. The day after that the woman learned that the proper Danish airline employees seemed incapable of dealing with the matter of this missing brown bag, and were refusing ALL communication with the baggage authorities in Frankfurt. Needless to say, the woman's daughter was asking her every 5 minutes when the bag is coming, and her son was asking too, as he was anxiously awaiting the tin of Spanish octopus salad that was also in the bag.
On the 3rd day, the bag wass still missing. Stay tuned for further adventures of this small brown bag and its solitary trip to Copenhagen, eluding the Danish baggage handlers.
Wednesday, 27 January 2010
Reality Czech Part I
Just a bit over a week ago, I took my first trip into the former 2nd World. To get there,I traveled by what would have been the Eastern Block approved method-public transportation. Namely: a bus, a trolley train, two Deutsche Bahn railway trains, and one most unusal train-like thing that I will describe more fully in just a bit.
It had snowed the night before I set off, so my first train from Weinheim to Frankfurt had a 20 minute delay, giving me exactly one minute to catch the next train in Frankfurt Hauptbahnhof. Luck was with me, though, and I made this second train in the nick of time; panting like a crazy woman from my under-one-minute mad dash from platform to platform. Although we left Frankfurt on time, we arrived in Nürnberg exactly 2 minutes too late for me to catch the direct train from there to Pilsen (my final destination. I ended up with having almost two hours to kill in the Nürnberg train station; where I passed the time drinking a coffee, and chatting with a most interesting shady character, who told me he earns his living by being the middleman between international sales transactions of highly controversial substances. He called himself "Wolf", and was a civil and friendly enough guy. Wolf's bits and pieces about how he manages to travel so much for his "business", and how he avoided the long arm of the law that he was sharing with me were certainly fascinating to listen to. I kept wondering whether he was telling me the truth, or making up stories to test how gullible I am. It didn't really matter though anyhow; because listening to him was certainly more entertaining than sipping my coffee and checking my watch every 4 seconds. The next leg of this journey was on a "Bimmelbahn" or local regional train that seemed to stop at each and every Bavarian village along the way, endstation Fürth im Wald at the Czech border. As THIS train was also behind schedule, due to snow, I was really sweating whether we (Wolf was sitting with me on this train, still telling me of his adventures) would make the last train from Fürth to Pilsen, or whether we would have to find lodgings for the night deep in the Bavarian/Czech border wilderness. It was getting towards evening at this point, and I was also getting just a wee bit travel-weary. Thus I was relieved to see that our "train" (explanation for train in quotes coming in just a second) was waiting for us, at the very last German railway station destination. After getting about a 4 second look at Fürth, it seemed slightly unlikely that would have been so easy to find somewhere to sleep, had I been forced to spend the night there.
So now about this "train". The amazing vehicle consisted of only one car, and looked like had been built in about 1957. It resembled a bus that ran on the railway track more than any sort of train I had ever seen. The sight of this "train", after initial sense of relief to see it at all, caused me to laugh and scramble for my camera. Had no time to take a picture though, because the conductor/engineer was looking very stern and grumpy, so I thought it a better idea to not delay any further, and board right away. Inside this thing (sort of an inner room on the bus-like train) there were two rows of wooden benches bolted to the floor. Very uncomfortable benches, by the way. This "train" started to move in a bone-rattling style, and crossed the border into the Czech Republic about 5 minutes after leaving Fürt im Wald. I was disappointed that it was already dark by then, so could see very little of the Czech countryside we were passing through. Had another laughing fit when we stopped in a tiny village called Babylon, which had me frantically fumbling for my camera again, in order to have photographic evidence of the fact that I had been to Babylon on this journey. But we pulled out of Babylon before I had the camera ready-another wonderful missed photo opportunity.
Finally, a good 11 hours after I left home that morning, this strange little train (oh I forgot to mention that in each Czech station we stopped in, another car was added to the mini train-very disappointing, but still interesting to watch), I reached Pilsen, where my Czech contact was waiting for me on the train platform.
Reality Czech Parts II and III soon to come.
It had snowed the night before I set off, so my first train from Weinheim to Frankfurt had a 20 minute delay, giving me exactly one minute to catch the next train in Frankfurt Hauptbahnhof. Luck was with me, though, and I made this second train in the nick of time; panting like a crazy woman from my under-one-minute mad dash from platform to platform. Although we left Frankfurt on time, we arrived in Nürnberg exactly 2 minutes too late for me to catch the direct train from there to Pilsen (my final destination. I ended up with having almost two hours to kill in the Nürnberg train station; where I passed the time drinking a coffee, and chatting with a most interesting shady character, who told me he earns his living by being the middleman between international sales transactions of highly controversial substances. He called himself "Wolf", and was a civil and friendly enough guy. Wolf's bits and pieces about how he manages to travel so much for his "business", and how he avoided the long arm of the law that he was sharing with me were certainly fascinating to listen to. I kept wondering whether he was telling me the truth, or making up stories to test how gullible I am. It didn't really matter though anyhow; because listening to him was certainly more entertaining than sipping my coffee and checking my watch every 4 seconds. The next leg of this journey was on a "Bimmelbahn" or local regional train that seemed to stop at each and every Bavarian village along the way, endstation Fürth im Wald at the Czech border. As THIS train was also behind schedule, due to snow, I was really sweating whether we (Wolf was sitting with me on this train, still telling me of his adventures) would make the last train from Fürth to Pilsen, or whether we would have to find lodgings for the night deep in the Bavarian/Czech border wilderness. It was getting towards evening at this point, and I was also getting just a wee bit travel-weary. Thus I was relieved to see that our "train" (explanation for train in quotes coming in just a second) was waiting for us, at the very last German railway station destination. After getting about a 4 second look at Fürth, it seemed slightly unlikely that would have been so easy to find somewhere to sleep, had I been forced to spend the night there.
So now about this "train". The amazing vehicle consisted of only one car, and looked like had been built in about 1957. It resembled a bus that ran on the railway track more than any sort of train I had ever seen. The sight of this "train", after initial sense of relief to see it at all, caused me to laugh and scramble for my camera. Had no time to take a picture though, because the conductor/engineer was looking very stern and grumpy, so I thought it a better idea to not delay any further, and board right away. Inside this thing (sort of an inner room on the bus-like train) there were two rows of wooden benches bolted to the floor. Very uncomfortable benches, by the way. This "train" started to move in a bone-rattling style, and crossed the border into the Czech Republic about 5 minutes after leaving Fürt im Wald. I was disappointed that it was already dark by then, so could see very little of the Czech countryside we were passing through. Had another laughing fit when we stopped in a tiny village called Babylon, which had me frantically fumbling for my camera again, in order to have photographic evidence of the fact that I had been to Babylon on this journey. But we pulled out of Babylon before I had the camera ready-another wonderful missed photo opportunity.
Finally, a good 11 hours after I left home that morning, this strange little train (oh I forgot to mention that in each Czech station we stopped in, another car was added to the mini train-very disappointing, but still interesting to watch), I reached Pilsen, where my Czech contact was waiting for me on the train platform.
Reality Czech Parts II and III soon to come.
Monday, 25 January 2010
Two Oaks
Two Oak trees stand side by side
unique, amidst a dense forest of pine.
growing straight towards the sky
one millennium into the next.
Their branches brush one another
over and under, in countless positions
when a breeze stirs the air.
Blustery winds cause the crowns to bow in respect
or away in distdain
depending on the force of the gale.
The soil at the base of these trees
is fertile from leaves of experience
rotting where they fell.
Creating a rich truffle-ripe humus
black loamy nuggets of gold.
Under the earth, in a dark secret place
the roots of these Oaks have grown tangled
gnarled and twisted, drawing the same food from the ground
impossible to distinguish one from the other
Any attempt to untangle the mesh
and both trunks would quietly die
without anyone knowing the reason
unique, amidst a dense forest of pine.
growing straight towards the sky
one millennium into the next.
Their branches brush one another
over and under, in countless positions
when a breeze stirs the air.
Blustery winds cause the crowns to bow in respect
or away in distdain
depending on the force of the gale.
The soil at the base of these trees
is fertile from leaves of experience
rotting where they fell.
Creating a rich truffle-ripe humus
black loamy nuggets of gold.
Under the earth, in a dark secret place
the roots of these Oaks have grown tangled
gnarled and twisted, drawing the same food from the ground
impossible to distinguish one from the other
Any attempt to untangle the mesh
and both trunks would quietly die
without anyone knowing the reason
Bad Day (approx. 2007)
Is one of the Dark Days
No red, yellow, or orange
Just blue, purple, and BLACK
Can feel no music inside
Only cold silence
Lethargy, fear, and doubt
Have to pretend for a while
Til my rainbow comes back
No red, yellow, or orange
Just blue, purple, and BLACK
Can feel no music inside
Only cold silence
Lethargy, fear, and doubt
Have to pretend for a while
Til my rainbow comes back
Untitled Poem (circa 1988)
Drops fall softly
While the notes flow through our ears
We keep on dancing
Our fingers draw the music
Patterns in the air
Our feet mimic the rhythm
Drums on the grass
My neighbor smiles at me
As a rainbow appears over the stage
The melody changes
Sunshine daydream
We are still dancing
Twirling our own rainbow
Along the moon-path
While the notes flow through our ears
We keep on dancing
Our fingers draw the music
Patterns in the air
Our feet mimic the rhythm
Drums on the grass
My neighbor smiles at me
As a rainbow appears over the stage
The melody changes
Sunshine daydream
We are still dancing
Twirling our own rainbow
Along the moon-path
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