Something about a little mishap with another Quantas airplane.
Which explains the debris on the runway.
But the sound was off on the overhead television in the boarding area and so we all just sat around and felt really lucky to be on the flight to Brisbane and not to Sydney.
Especially when all the other passengers insisted we go ahead and preboard even though the twins technically weren't infants.
The touchscreens on Quantas include video games so Aidan and Matthew are playing mini golf and bowling, using their control pads like the Wii joysticks they learned to use in the Mercur lobby in Sindelfingen. Ryan and Andrew are one row ahead of us. Hopefully getting better scores than Aidan and Matthew.
It is only a seven hour flight. Can't believe that is the same amount of time it takes to fly from Europe to New York. We've already have the thirteen hour flight from Europe to Singapore behind us,
Can't believe we are getting away with this. The hardest part has been the four hour layover in Heathrow.
Friday, November 12, 2010
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Twitter Four: Almost in Singapore
Twitter Four: Almost in Singapore
And if the Brits enjoyed our comedy act, the Aussies actually like to participate.
Gate 42. Check -in.
''Twins. Really kicks the family planning in the pants, don't it?''
''Oh. You can do that?'' we replied.
Barely missing a beat we boarded the plane.
Ducklings marching down the aisle.
''Oh. Just the four then.''
I can't wait to actually get there!
Of course, we still need to get through Singapore. In two hours time. Hoping it's more like Heathrow than like Charles de Gaulle. (Note: This was written before we realized there was "debris" - one engine and various other airplane parts - scattered all over our runway and we SHOULD be happy to land in one piece in Singapore and not in little bits and pieces scattered all over Malaysia and Indonesia. Ignorance is bliss. Especially when you're flying at 30,000 feet and the kids are occupied with the viewscreens in front of them.)
We still need boarding passes too and don't have seat assignments.
Two kids ago this would have worried me. Now I dare them to separate us.
In fact, I wonder if they charge extra for that!
And if the Brits enjoyed our comedy act, the Aussies actually like to participate.
Gate 42. Check -in.
''Twins. Really kicks the family planning in the pants, don't it?''
''Oh. You can do that?'' we replied.
Barely missing a beat we boarded the plane.
Ducklings marching down the aisle.
''Oh. Just the four then.''
I can't wait to actually get there!
Of course, we still need to get through Singapore. In two hours time. Hoping it's more like Heathrow than like Charles de Gaulle. (Note: This was written before we realized there was "debris" - one engine and various other airplane parts - scattered all over our runway and we SHOULD be happy to land in one piece in Singapore and not in little bits and pieces scattered all over Malaysia and Indonesia. Ignorance is bliss. Especially when you're flying at 30,000 feet and the kids are occupied with the viewscreens in front of them.)
We still need boarding passes too and don't have seat assignments.
Two kids ago this would have worried me. Now I dare them to separate us.
In fact, I wonder if they charge extra for that!
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Twitter Three: Somewhere Over the Bay of Bengal
Twitter Three: Somewhere Over Bay of Bengal
Okay. That didn't look good. I just turned on the touchscreen in front of me to see where we are and the little plane that is supposed to be us was falling from the lower left of the screen over the ocean with red sparks shooting out of its rear. Oh. There it goes again. Someone should really work on that simulation.
Since the local time from departure is still reading 7:37 and the local time at destination 15:37 I am going to assume we are okay. I can't imagine the pilot would be checking the accuracy of the clocks if we were plummeting from the sky. And, just to be clear here, I wouldn't want a countdown either.
I also wouldn't want an excited eight year old with blocked auditory passages screaming ''we're going down. We're going down.'' Our apologies to the folks on the Stuttgart to London flight for that. He's bilingual. He meant landing. Our mistake.
Other gems from THAT flight included Andrew asking if they spoke English in London. They give it their best shot, I replied.
And then they all kept their eyes out for Wolfy as we flew above the clouds.
So far the flight has been pretty fantastic. We boarded at 9PM London time. Which was 10 PM German time and 11 PM to our brains. We figured, heck, since we're totally screwing up our inner clocks anyway, let's not even bother adjusting to the end of daylight savings. And Heathrow is my new favorite airport to fly through, but there isn't much daylight in London to save anyway. Thank goodness the people were so lovely.
Americans have never given the British much credit for a sense of humor. Maybe because they didn't get that whole dressing up as Indians and throwing a tea party thing a while back. But, I gotta tell you, the twins and I drew smiles, chuckles and outright guffaws at Heathrow. Also quite a crowd, since I didn't realize until well into an hour into our stay that we were performing behind the departures information board.
The thing about Heathrow is that they actually seem to want you to get where you are going. They have signs pointing you in the proper directions. I wanted to take pictures. You have to understand that I have spent a lot of time connecting through Paris. Maybe I'm easily impressed.
Heathrows' international departures area could use a childrens' play area though. I mean, how much perfume does the world really need? And I appreciate the fancy sushi bars and posh drinking clubs. But really, wouldn't you enjoy them better if my children weren't playacting fire scenarios right behind you?
Maybe not. We picked a fairly wide, fairly traffic-free corridor and proceeded to play. This was after the fiasco in TGIFs where I ordered water all-around and drew the enmity of the waitress. I was scared to ask for refills but Damon found a water fountain later all. We all made a pilgrimage. It appears we may have spent too much time in Germany not to suffer lasting effects!
It appears as if I am going to have to stop speaking to the kids in English too. Either that or put-down a hat and start doing stand-up comedy on the corner. Germans do their best to avoid kids in any language. Who would have thought we could be a source of amusement rather than disdain? We're not pathetic. Turns out the Brits think we're funny.
Aidan planted himself in the middle of the perfume aisle and announced he was staying there. This was after the color game had worn off. (You know, find something ORANGE in the airport. How about something GREEN?) And the animal game. And the don't step on the cracks game. Which unintentionally turned into the don't knock over the little old lady with the walker game. So that when Aidan announced he was going to SIT, I was relieved. Regardless of the fact that it was in the middle of the store. Matthew followed suit. The nice lady behind us stepped over them, looked over at me calmly standing to the side taking a breather, and nodded her head sagely,
''Oh. Boys.'' And calmly went about her business with no further ado.
I believe the sight of us makes other people appreciate their own good fortune!
The Christmas trip to Florida with two 18 month olds and a bad case of stomach flu puts it all in perspective for me.
We also drew chuckles on the way to the boarding gate. The signs pointed us in the proper direction. 25 – 42. As the ducklings marched through the airport with their matching backpacks, I asked Damon what gate we were looking for. ''42.'' he replied. ''42?!'' I thought he was joking. ''42.'' he repeated. We could have been opening at the improv.
My favorite audience though was the group of four businessmen looking for their departure gate. Aidan and Matthew had done the fireman routine. Complete with daddy fireman coming home to care for baby fireman. And put down food and water for the dog. Which turned into a dog routine. And then the circus. With clown car. (Matthew is going to make a GREAT mime someday.)
''Mommy,“ said one of my firemen, ''now you have to get down on your knees and cry like a baby.“
I'd already started to reply that there were a LOT of things I would do to keep them quiet in the Heathrow airport but that getting down on my hands and knees was not one of them when I realized that the businessmen were all looking in my direction expectantly. I swear a couple of them had tears in their eyes they were laughing so hard.
Boys.
Probably could have earned some extra cash too.
But the water's free anyway.
Okay. That didn't look good. I just turned on the touchscreen in front of me to see where we are and the little plane that is supposed to be us was falling from the lower left of the screen over the ocean with red sparks shooting out of its rear. Oh. There it goes again. Someone should really work on that simulation.
Since the local time from departure is still reading 7:37 and the local time at destination 15:37 I am going to assume we are okay. I can't imagine the pilot would be checking the accuracy of the clocks if we were plummeting from the sky. And, just to be clear here, I wouldn't want a countdown either.
I also wouldn't want an excited eight year old with blocked auditory passages screaming ''we're going down. We're going down.'' Our apologies to the folks on the Stuttgart to London flight for that. He's bilingual. He meant landing. Our mistake.
Other gems from THAT flight included Andrew asking if they spoke English in London. They give it their best shot, I replied.
And then they all kept their eyes out for Wolfy as we flew above the clouds.
So far the flight has been pretty fantastic. We boarded at 9PM London time. Which was 10 PM German time and 11 PM to our brains. We figured, heck, since we're totally screwing up our inner clocks anyway, let's not even bother adjusting to the end of daylight savings. And Heathrow is my new favorite airport to fly through, but there isn't much daylight in London to save anyway. Thank goodness the people were so lovely.
Americans have never given the British much credit for a sense of humor. Maybe because they didn't get that whole dressing up as Indians and throwing a tea party thing a while back. But, I gotta tell you, the twins and I drew smiles, chuckles and outright guffaws at Heathrow. Also quite a crowd, since I didn't realize until well into an hour into our stay that we were performing behind the departures information board.
The thing about Heathrow is that they actually seem to want you to get where you are going. They have signs pointing you in the proper directions. I wanted to take pictures. You have to understand that I have spent a lot of time connecting through Paris. Maybe I'm easily impressed.
Heathrows' international departures area could use a childrens' play area though. I mean, how much perfume does the world really need? And I appreciate the fancy sushi bars and posh drinking clubs. But really, wouldn't you enjoy them better if my children weren't playacting fire scenarios right behind you?
Maybe not. We picked a fairly wide, fairly traffic-free corridor and proceeded to play. This was after the fiasco in TGIFs where I ordered water all-around and drew the enmity of the waitress. I was scared to ask for refills but Damon found a water fountain later all. We all made a pilgrimage. It appears we may have spent too much time in Germany not to suffer lasting effects!
It appears as if I am going to have to stop speaking to the kids in English too. Either that or put-down a hat and start doing stand-up comedy on the corner. Germans do their best to avoid kids in any language. Who would have thought we could be a source of amusement rather than disdain? We're not pathetic. Turns out the Brits think we're funny.
Aidan planted himself in the middle of the perfume aisle and announced he was staying there. This was after the color game had worn off. (You know, find something ORANGE in the airport. How about something GREEN?) And the animal game. And the don't step on the cracks game. Which unintentionally turned into the don't knock over the little old lady with the walker game. So that when Aidan announced he was going to SIT, I was relieved. Regardless of the fact that it was in the middle of the store. Matthew followed suit. The nice lady behind us stepped over them, looked over at me calmly standing to the side taking a breather, and nodded her head sagely,
''Oh. Boys.'' And calmly went about her business with no further ado.
I believe the sight of us makes other people appreciate their own good fortune!
The Christmas trip to Florida with two 18 month olds and a bad case of stomach flu puts it all in perspective for me.
We also drew chuckles on the way to the boarding gate. The signs pointed us in the proper direction. 25 – 42. As the ducklings marched through the airport with their matching backpacks, I asked Damon what gate we were looking for. ''42.'' he replied. ''42?!'' I thought he was joking. ''42.'' he repeated. We could have been opening at the improv.
My favorite audience though was the group of four businessmen looking for their departure gate. Aidan and Matthew had done the fireman routine. Complete with daddy fireman coming home to care for baby fireman. And put down food and water for the dog. Which turned into a dog routine. And then the circus. With clown car. (Matthew is going to make a GREAT mime someday.)
''Mommy,“ said one of my firemen, ''now you have to get down on your knees and cry like a baby.“
I'd already started to reply that there were a LOT of things I would do to keep them quiet in the Heathrow airport but that getting down on my hands and knees was not one of them when I realized that the businessmen were all looking in my direction expectantly. I swear a couple of them had tears in their eyes they were laughing so hard.
Boys.
Probably could have earned some extra cash too.
But the water's free anyway.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Letter From Australia
Letter from Australia
(written from 3 – 5 AM, this is my brain on Australian time!)
This place is fantastic. I've spent the last hour trying to figure out how to get all of my friends in Germany over here on a skilled workers visa. And yet, part of me wants to keep the place a secret too. It's too good to be true. I sit listening to the kookaburras battling it out with the cockatoos right outside my bedroom window and yet I can hop on the train and be in the center of Brisbane within 45 minutes.
The Aussies are a frightening people. They take a little getting used to mate. Like all that smiling and speaking to one another. Complete strangers even. It's hard to shake em off your tail. Like that intrusive couple on the train into Brisbane who insisted on showing us to Queen Street. And then spent half an hour chatting with us once we were there. Beware of an early morning walk too. The local wildlife, dressed in walking shorts and sun hats, sat down on a park bench with Damon yesterday and held him up for another half hour. Like they were really interested in him.
I guess what I'm saying is that a typical ''how are ya, mate?'' takes half an hour.
We're a pretty exotic species here as well. Americans? Like we come from another planet. Our European past is of mild interest – you've been all over sort of thing – but it's America that holds their interest. What's it like over there? When I tell them the Brisbane suburbs remind me of a milder, less developed Florida – one that has shopping malls, and Target, all within easy walking distance but hasn't completely destroyed the native fauna to put in subdivisions – they don't believe me. Go, I tell them. See the Great White North. (A lot are interested in Canada as well.) But I can almost guarantee you'll come back here.
Having said that, we are the first residents in an unfinished gated community here in Lawnton. Sure, they have koalas in the neighborhood, they tell me. That's why they kept that big gum tree up next to the pool. Nesting. Like any self-respecting koala is going to nest in a tree surrounded by townhouses. So that we're already encroaching on wildlife habitat just by moving in.
The local wildlife I do see every morning though appeals to me. Somewhere between 5 to 6 AM, depending on if the property manager is here or not, a herd of ''Bob, the Baumeisters'' shows up ready for work. Young, tanned and topless by 9AM. Yay for me. Other than that,and the chattering kookaburra and flocks of wild cockatoos, lorikeets and magpies, we have no neighbors. The rest of the complex still needs to be completed, final stages being delayed by an unusually rainy October which brought the drought hungry water levels up to 90% from 20% in just 30 days. The Connors are here. We tend to bring rain and snow wherever we travel. Switzerland had to close its ski slopes last October due to the unusually heavy, seasonally early snowfall when we were there. You're welcome Brisbane. Any other parts of Australia need a little watering?
We can't decide whether to register the kids for school today or head to the beach. I'm thinking beach. Cause the school will still be there tomorrow. No worries there.
You can't imagine what a joy it is to migrate to a country where immigration, health insurance and school offices all greet you with an ''easily done'' after coming from a country where the bureacracy doesn't greet you at all and then gives you a look of severe disdain and a ''nicht moeglich“ (not possible) when you have the audacity to ask them for help.
I've already had to explain to one older lady, who had gone back to Germany to learn about her Jewish past, that it wasn't antisemitism that made the Germans so rude to her. I think it's lack of sunshine. Really. Has anyone investigated the lack of Vitamin D on attitude? Just look at what happens to the Brits when you give them a little bit of sunshine!
The convict thing has come up already too. Apologetically. As in, well my ancestors were probably arrested for stealing a loaf of bread or something like that. Except that the penal colony in Brisbane was for severe offenders, as in my ancestors were probably arrested for murder and were darn lucky not to be hanging from the gallows. As if America was founded by a bunch of Puritans.
Oh that. Good publicity and excellent early public schooling. You don't learn about the indentured servants and other European social outcasts – the tired, the hungry, the poor – until later on, when your hormones are too fixated on the biceps of the guy sitting two rows in front of you to pay any attention.
As for the rest of my roots, well, I'll see your ancestor convicted for murder 200 years ago and raise you a race that slaughtered the Jews only 60 years ago.
But the sun is out, the birds are awake, and my ''Bobs'' are scheduled to arrive within the hour. It's a new day and anything is possible.
So that I really have to decide whether to tell everyone how fantastic it is here. Or keep up that great Australian conspiracy.
We ARE at the ends of the earth. One step to the East and you fall right off. (This has GOT to be the most fortuitous – for us, not the indigenous people – pitstop ever made. Thanks James.)
Creepy crawlies and slimy slitheries everywhere. So small you don't know what hit you. Of course,only the funnel spider is deadly, and even then you have plenty of time to call 000 and get help. Pressure wrap, boys. Pressure wrap. And yes, the property manager did tell us that we had nothing to worry about since the only poisonous spider around here, the redback, doesn't have enough venom – and here she looked the twins over carefully – to kill anything but a wee infant. Might sting quite a bit though, she added.
So that if the spiders and snakes don't scare you off, we've got the box jelly fish. The most deadly animal in the world. With long, transparent tentacles that DO deliver enough venom to kill you within minutes. Antivenom on the beach though. If you can get there in the few seconds before paralysis sets in.
And sharks and saltwater crocodiles. None of which live in the suburbs of Brisbane.
The latest deadly Australian animal, only recently discovered, is Quantas airlines. And yes, we were one of the next flights INTO Singapore that morning when the pilot announced – in typically British subdued fashion – that there was some debris on the runway and we would have to circle a bit until they cleared it off. He did NOT mention that the debris was the better part of another Quantas airplane's engine. Having no newspaper or internet access in the Singapore airport, I was calmly reading the superb safety record of Quantas airlines in our Travel Australia guide as they were picking up pieces of one of their airplanes only meters away.
Just goes to show I still do nothing quietly. How nice to be living on an island big enough – where the birds are loud enough – that I'll fit right in.
(written from 3 – 5 AM, this is my brain on Australian time!)
This place is fantastic. I've spent the last hour trying to figure out how to get all of my friends in Germany over here on a skilled workers visa. And yet, part of me wants to keep the place a secret too. It's too good to be true. I sit listening to the kookaburras battling it out with the cockatoos right outside my bedroom window and yet I can hop on the train and be in the center of Brisbane within 45 minutes.
The Aussies are a frightening people. They take a little getting used to mate. Like all that smiling and speaking to one another. Complete strangers even. It's hard to shake em off your tail. Like that intrusive couple on the train into Brisbane who insisted on showing us to Queen Street. And then spent half an hour chatting with us once we were there. Beware of an early morning walk too. The local wildlife, dressed in walking shorts and sun hats, sat down on a park bench with Damon yesterday and held him up for another half hour. Like they were really interested in him.
I guess what I'm saying is that a typical ''how are ya, mate?'' takes half an hour.
We're a pretty exotic species here as well. Americans? Like we come from another planet. Our European past is of mild interest – you've been all over sort of thing – but it's America that holds their interest. What's it like over there? When I tell them the Brisbane suburbs remind me of a milder, less developed Florida – one that has shopping malls, and Target, all within easy walking distance but hasn't completely destroyed the native fauna to put in subdivisions – they don't believe me. Go, I tell them. See the Great White North. (A lot are interested in Canada as well.) But I can almost guarantee you'll come back here.
Having said that, we are the first residents in an unfinished gated community here in Lawnton. Sure, they have koalas in the neighborhood, they tell me. That's why they kept that big gum tree up next to the pool. Nesting. Like any self-respecting koala is going to nest in a tree surrounded by townhouses. So that we're already encroaching on wildlife habitat just by moving in.
The local wildlife I do see every morning though appeals to me. Somewhere between 5 to 6 AM, depending on if the property manager is here or not, a herd of ''Bob, the Baumeisters'' shows up ready for work. Young, tanned and topless by 9AM. Yay for me. Other than that,and the chattering kookaburra and flocks of wild cockatoos, lorikeets and magpies, we have no neighbors. The rest of the complex still needs to be completed, final stages being delayed by an unusually rainy October which brought the drought hungry water levels up to 90% from 20% in just 30 days. The Connors are here. We tend to bring rain and snow wherever we travel. Switzerland had to close its ski slopes last October due to the unusually heavy, seasonally early snowfall when we were there. You're welcome Brisbane. Any other parts of Australia need a little watering?
We can't decide whether to register the kids for school today or head to the beach. I'm thinking beach. Cause the school will still be there tomorrow. No worries there.
You can't imagine what a joy it is to migrate to a country where immigration, health insurance and school offices all greet you with an ''easily done'' after coming from a country where the bureacracy doesn't greet you at all and then gives you a look of severe disdain and a ''nicht moeglich“ (not possible) when you have the audacity to ask them for help.
I've already had to explain to one older lady, who had gone back to Germany to learn about her Jewish past, that it wasn't antisemitism that made the Germans so rude to her. I think it's lack of sunshine. Really. Has anyone investigated the lack of Vitamin D on attitude? Just look at what happens to the Brits when you give them a little bit of sunshine!
The convict thing has come up already too. Apologetically. As in, well my ancestors were probably arrested for stealing a loaf of bread or something like that. Except that the penal colony in Brisbane was for severe offenders, as in my ancestors were probably arrested for murder and were darn lucky not to be hanging from the gallows. As if America was founded by a bunch of Puritans.
Oh that. Good publicity and excellent early public schooling. You don't learn about the indentured servants and other European social outcasts – the tired, the hungry, the poor – until later on, when your hormones are too fixated on the biceps of the guy sitting two rows in front of you to pay any attention.
As for the rest of my roots, well, I'll see your ancestor convicted for murder 200 years ago and raise you a race that slaughtered the Jews only 60 years ago.
But the sun is out, the birds are awake, and my ''Bobs'' are scheduled to arrive within the hour. It's a new day and anything is possible.
So that I really have to decide whether to tell everyone how fantastic it is here. Or keep up that great Australian conspiracy.
We ARE at the ends of the earth. One step to the East and you fall right off. (This has GOT to be the most fortuitous – for us, not the indigenous people – pitstop ever made. Thanks James.)
Creepy crawlies and slimy slitheries everywhere. So small you don't know what hit you. Of course,only the funnel spider is deadly, and even then you have plenty of time to call 000 and get help. Pressure wrap, boys. Pressure wrap. And yes, the property manager did tell us that we had nothing to worry about since the only poisonous spider around here, the redback, doesn't have enough venom – and here she looked the twins over carefully – to kill anything but a wee infant. Might sting quite a bit though, she added.
So that if the spiders and snakes don't scare you off, we've got the box jelly fish. The most deadly animal in the world. With long, transparent tentacles that DO deliver enough venom to kill you within minutes. Antivenom on the beach though. If you can get there in the few seconds before paralysis sets in.
And sharks and saltwater crocodiles. None of which live in the suburbs of Brisbane.
The latest deadly Australian animal, only recently discovered, is Quantas airlines. And yes, we were one of the next flights INTO Singapore that morning when the pilot announced – in typically British subdued fashion – that there was some debris on the runway and we would have to circle a bit until they cleared it off. He did NOT mention that the debris was the better part of another Quantas airplane's engine. Having no newspaper or internet access in the Singapore airport, I was calmly reading the superb safety record of Quantas airlines in our Travel Australia guide as they were picking up pieces of one of their airplanes only meters away.
Just goes to show I still do nothing quietly. How nice to be living on an island big enough – where the birds are loud enough – that I'll fit right in.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Twitter Two: Heathrow
We're paying 14 Euro cents a minute for connection - and the boys are running wild through the perfume section - so this will have to be brief.
We are here. Flying with two four year old boys is less of a challenge only when I compare it to flying with two two year old boys. It's all in the perspective.
LOVE Heathrow. The weather, as the pilot told us in typical understated British, is reasonable. Which the kids took to mean that the sun would be out. Yeah right. We arrived at 5 PM local time and thought it was nighttime. But it is 16 C and warm.
Not everyone can live in Australia, I told the kids, and actually drew smiles from other passengers.
Oops - forgot they speak English around here. Kind of.
Have picked up another child. Klaus, who has been entertaining the boys since flying with us from Stuttgart. He is fortunate enough to have an earlier flight to Singapore but has spent the last few hours with us. Refreshing his English with the twins over fart jokes at TGI Fridays. I'm actually hoping HE didn't understand them!
Misunderstandings galore already. Like the funny look the waitress threw me when I ordered a round of water. What? And a side salad. Until Damon reminded me the water is free and the tips are based on the bill. Oh.
But what if you only want a side salad and water? Am I allowed to pay for the water to make her feel better about serving it to me?
Oh dear. I feel I may have been out of the real world for too long after all.
On to Singapore. Hope to be able to connect with you all there!
We are here. Flying with two four year old boys is less of a challenge only when I compare it to flying with two two year old boys. It's all in the perspective.
LOVE Heathrow. The weather, as the pilot told us in typical understated British, is reasonable. Which the kids took to mean that the sun would be out. Yeah right. We arrived at 5 PM local time and thought it was nighttime. But it is 16 C and warm.
Not everyone can live in Australia, I told the kids, and actually drew smiles from other passengers.
Oops - forgot they speak English around here. Kind of.
Have picked up another child. Klaus, who has been entertaining the boys since flying with us from Stuttgart. He is fortunate enough to have an earlier flight to Singapore but has spent the last few hours with us. Refreshing his English with the twins over fart jokes at TGI Fridays. I'm actually hoping HE didn't understand them!
Misunderstandings galore already. Like the funny look the waitress threw me when I ordered a round of water. What? And a side salad. Until Damon reminded me the water is free and the tips are based on the bill. Oh.
But what if you only want a side salad and water? Am I allowed to pay for the water to make her feel better about serving it to me?
Oh dear. I feel I may have been out of the real world for too long after all.
On to Singapore. Hope to be able to connect with you all there!
Twitter One: GET THERE EARLY!
And I do mean EARLY! Our flight to London leaves at 15:30. We got to the Stuttgart airport at 11:30, four hours early for a two hour flight. The ticket counter wasn't even open yet. The strategy had already worked for me in February when I went to visit Gma in Florida. It - and some profuse tears - got me the last flight out of Germany in the middle of a snowstorm covering most of Europe. I landed in the middle of a snowstorm blanketing the entire USA, and I had to fly throught Charles de Gaulle, but I made it to Gmas only 24 hours later than planned. (Funny enough, a SECOND snowstorm in Atlanta two weeks later also delayed my return home to Germany!) Rule number one in European airtravel: NEVER EVER EVER fly through Charles De Gaulle. (When we lived in France, we were lucky enough to live close to the Geneva airport!) Rule Number Two: have as little carry-on baggage with you as possible just in case you are force to disregard rule number two. And remember, even though their airport looks - and runs - like a third world country in the midst of a civil war (and good God, do NOT go into the restaurants or let your children TOUCH anything while you are there!), the French are a lovely people once you get out of their airport.
All of which has nothing to do with getting there early except perhaps that the lady from the BRITISH AIRWAYS counter (and BRITISH AIRWAYS already has my vote for airline of choice!), a citizen of Ghana living in Germany, was born in France.
She allowed us to turn on two scales at the counter so we could start in with redistributing the weight in our bags. Then she called in two people to check us in at noon. Even though they didn't officially start check-in at 13:00. We told her we'd wait, but we were there early to make THEIR lives easier too.
Wé'd used the BRITISH AIRWAY offer of one extra bag for 45 Euros to condense our carry-ons into as little as possible, using those extra 23 kgs to carry mostly the schoolbooks that Damon would otherwise have ended up lugging through Heathrow and Singapore. And then we ran into complications with the Singapore connection- and those 40 extra Euros PER pound that had hit me in Florida came back to haunt me. It took three people on our end, multiple phone calls to a myriad of supervisors and to sister airlines, as well as forty minutes to get our bag on the flight, checked in through to Brisbane and all for 45 Euros.
The kids also got 4 fanny packs and the label "sky flyer"out of the deal.
I'm going to give a heck of a lot of credit to BRITISH AIRWAYS and to the three women helping us for taking the time to make our life so much easier.
But I also know it was showing up early, BEFORE they had other customers to deal with, that made it all possible. They would not have been ABLE to spend an hour checking us in if a line was forming behind us.
We also showed up with extra bags and tape for the kids' seats.
So that - for that one little moment at least - making someone else's job easier for them made it possible for them to make the next two days easier for us.
I AM starting a new blog - Twintensity in Oz - and I will let you know when it is up and running. Thoughts running through my brain include that fact that noone I now speaks English the way the English seem to - including my English friends in Germany. And that perhaps, just perhaps, we are going to have some linguistic culture shock after all! This is BEFORE the language gets beaten to death by the Aussies! I also didn't know the address we were moving too - and then had to ask Damon if Australia even had zip codes!
My kids are running through the Burger King here at the Stuttgart airport.
I've already cried my eyes out in the cab - fortunately to a Turkish cabby who took it all in stride!
And yeah - we are off. Carrying more baggage than I'd counted on : hug from Andrea in REAL yesterday (a suitcase broke at the last minute!), sushi with the girls last night - who knew it would mean so much?, late night and early morning phone calls with Anita, last minute call from Lynn (who did the same for me when we left Altdorf in Sept!), comments from Jim on my blog, emails and wishes from Catherine.
I'd planned to start a NEW chapter. But I'm not done with last one yet.
Hoping to catch up with you all in London! It means a lot that you are flying with!
All of which has nothing to do with getting there early except perhaps that the lady from the BRITISH AIRWAYS counter (and BRITISH AIRWAYS already has my vote for airline of choice!), a citizen of Ghana living in Germany, was born in France.
She allowed us to turn on two scales at the counter so we could start in with redistributing the weight in our bags. Then she called in two people to check us in at noon. Even though they didn't officially start check-in at 13:00. We told her we'd wait, but we were there early to make THEIR lives easier too.
Wé'd used the BRITISH AIRWAY offer of one extra bag for 45 Euros to condense our carry-ons into as little as possible, using those extra 23 kgs to carry mostly the schoolbooks that Damon would otherwise have ended up lugging through Heathrow and Singapore. And then we ran into complications with the Singapore connection- and those 40 extra Euros PER pound that had hit me in Florida came back to haunt me. It took three people on our end, multiple phone calls to a myriad of supervisors and to sister airlines, as well as forty minutes to get our bag on the flight, checked in through to Brisbane and all for 45 Euros.
The kids also got 4 fanny packs and the label "sky flyer"out of the deal.
I'm going to give a heck of a lot of credit to BRITISH AIRWAYS and to the three women helping us for taking the time to make our life so much easier.
But I also know it was showing up early, BEFORE they had other customers to deal with, that made it all possible. They would not have been ABLE to spend an hour checking us in if a line was forming behind us.
We also showed up with extra bags and tape for the kids' seats.
So that - for that one little moment at least - making someone else's job easier for them made it possible for them to make the next two days easier for us.
I AM starting a new blog - Twintensity in Oz - and I will let you know when it is up and running. Thoughts running through my brain include that fact that noone I now speaks English the way the English seem to - including my English friends in Germany. And that perhaps, just perhaps, we are going to have some linguistic culture shock after all! This is BEFORE the language gets beaten to death by the Aussies! I also didn't know the address we were moving too - and then had to ask Damon if Australia even had zip codes!
My kids are running through the Burger King here at the Stuttgart airport.
I've already cried my eyes out in the cab - fortunately to a Turkish cabby who took it all in stride!
And yeah - we are off. Carrying more baggage than I'd counted on : hug from Andrea in REAL yesterday (a suitcase broke at the last minute!), sushi with the girls last night - who knew it would mean so much?, late night and early morning phone calls with Anita, last minute call from Lynn (who did the same for me when we left Altdorf in Sept!), comments from Jim on my blog, emails and wishes from Catherine.
I'd planned to start a NEW chapter. But I'm not done with last one yet.
Hoping to catch up with you all in London! It means a lot that you are flying with!
Monday, November 1, 2010
German or Swabian?
I believe I have taken that last step into being truly German. I'm going to mock the Swabians.
When my family - spread from Cologne in the west to Berlin in the east - heard that we were living in (the German state of ) Baden-Wuerttemburg they all said one thing.
"How can you stand living down there? Those people are odd."
When Damon's German colleagues from graduate school heard they said two things.
"Told you Germany is a lot cleaner than France." (It is.) And " how can you stand living down there? Those people are odd."
I didn't have the heart to tell them at the time that we thought they were all a little odd, so that Baden-Wuerttemburg didn't really faze us that much.
My oldest friend in Germany, whose Hessisch accent sounded like the language I learned as a child, told me not to judge Germany by Baden-Wuerttemburg. I did.
You know. The tight-fisted, scowling, close-minded old person tending their garden, scrubbing their steps and washing their windows while they glare dolefully at the children who dare to venture too close to their previous flower beds. (Like the couple who ran the bed in breakfast we visited in Munich, funnily enough NOT in Baden-Wuerttemburg and just the exception I need to prove the rule!) http://twintensity.blogspot.com/2009/04/we-dont-really-want-to-see-them-either.html
The dialect in Baden-Wuerttemburg is so strong that the state's tourist motto is : we can do everything except speak German. Proving that at least one person there DOES have a sense of humor about themselves! (It's also the reason noone here has picked up on my American accent. I tell them where we have been living and they excuse the poor German based on that fact alone! Although, I gotta tell you, when some of the older Bayern folks compliment me on speaking German, I have to bite my tongue not to ask them if they wouldn't mind trying it too please. Amazing what you can intuit from only understanding half the words!)
Of course Damon and I owe our sanity, and our security deposit, to the kindness and generosity of our Swabian neighbors. And Andrew's baseball coach, the epitome of jocularity and good sportsmanship, is Swabian. As are all my good friends who showered me with thoughtful gifts and sentiments when I left. Aidan and Matthew's godfather is Swabian, and a happy father of four. (Although I am sure his wife, my oldest friend, would ask me to reiterate that she most emphatically is NOT!)
My fellow Dresdeners (in the German state of Sachsen) didn't exactly greet me with warm fuzzy sentimentality either. They were respectful, courteous and helpful. Which was already an improvement over Stuttgarters who are often resentful at having being asked. If you don't ask the correct question, in the correct way, to the correct person, at the correct time somewhere between coffee break and lunch, you not only won't get an answer, you will get a cold sneer. And no, they won't direct you to the proper office. "Nicht meine Verantwortung." Not my responsibility. And they won't make it their responsibility either. (Which is why it is always so pleasant doing overseas business with someone from the USA, where they honestly try to help you find a solution to your problems and actually seem to find pleasure in doing so. Even if they ARE faking it.) Bureacracy, they call it here, shake their heads at the absurdity and chuckle ruefully. Go ahead, you're doing it right now if you live here!
Back to courtesy without warmth from Sachsen. Which prompted our hosts here in Bayern to tell us. ''Oh, we don't really have that much to do with those people up there. They are kind of odd." Well yeah, I guess losing a war you started with the Russians and then falling victim to communism might do that to a person. Or in this case a nation. Didn't I hear something about a united Germany though? Has anyone told the GERMANS that those "odd" people to the south and north of them are actually fellow countrymen?!
But it IS friendlier here in Bayern. Especially with four children. Back in Stuttgart, we do get smiles, but mostly of stunned disbelief and sympathy. People here actually LIKE our large family. They are HAPPY for us. Out here in Iglersreuth, Frau Bauer tells me that families of four and five children are nothing unusual on the farms. With less incomes than in Baden-Wuerttemburg.
But we still turn heads in the larger towns. Heads that stop, bend down and talk to the kids. Heads that laugh when they realize they are holding the door open for more than the two children they had first spotted. Like a gaggle of geese coming through the door.
Wait. Let me repeat that. They are holding open the door. Holding open the door. As in a common courtesy that I thought had been forgotten in Germany. Holding open the door. For children. You aren't going to see that in Badem-Wuerttemburg. Unless you are hanging out on one of the American military bases. Which is quite possible since they seem to be proliferating quite nicely there despite the end of the cold war. (Another essay, another time!)
In Dresden, a woman in her sixties insisted on giving up her seat on the tram for Aidan and Matthew. As if it were only the right and proper thing to do. She wouldn't have had a seat on the U-Bahn in Stuttgart. The men are pretty quick to get there first.
So that common courtesies aren't as common as they should be. But universal after all.
My cousin in Cologne had some advice when we told him we were considering relocating to Freiberg two years ago. ''It's nice enough." he said. ''I spent seven years there. But it's still Baden-Wuerttemburg. I couldn't do it again."
Seven seems to be a magic number in my family. I couldn't do it again either.
But I do leave a part of myself behind in that odd little part of the world the rest of the world considers part of Germany and the Germans consider Baden-Wuerttemburg. So that I'd like to make an introduction.
Germany, meet Baden-Wuerttemburg.
Baden-Wuerttemberg, meet Germany. Go ahead, they're holding the door open for you!
When my family - spread from Cologne in the west to Berlin in the east - heard that we were living in (the German state of ) Baden-Wuerttemburg they all said one thing.
"How can you stand living down there? Those people are odd."
When Damon's German colleagues from graduate school heard they said two things.
"Told you Germany is a lot cleaner than France." (It is.) And " how can you stand living down there? Those people are odd."
I didn't have the heart to tell them at the time that we thought they were all a little odd, so that Baden-Wuerttemburg didn't really faze us that much.
My oldest friend in Germany, whose Hessisch accent sounded like the language I learned as a child, told me not to judge Germany by Baden-Wuerttemburg. I did.
You know. The tight-fisted, scowling, close-minded old person tending their garden, scrubbing their steps and washing their windows while they glare dolefully at the children who dare to venture too close to their previous flower beds. (Like the couple who ran the bed in breakfast we visited in Munich, funnily enough NOT in Baden-Wuerttemburg and just the exception I need to prove the rule!) http://twintensity.blogspot.com/2009/04/we-dont-really-want-to-see-them-either.html
The dialect in Baden-Wuerttemburg is so strong that the state's tourist motto is : we can do everything except speak German. Proving that at least one person there DOES have a sense of humor about themselves! (It's also the reason noone here has picked up on my American accent. I tell them where we have been living and they excuse the poor German based on that fact alone! Although, I gotta tell you, when some of the older Bayern folks compliment me on speaking German, I have to bite my tongue not to ask them if they wouldn't mind trying it too please. Amazing what you can intuit from only understanding half the words!)
Of course Damon and I owe our sanity, and our security deposit, to the kindness and generosity of our Swabian neighbors. And Andrew's baseball coach, the epitome of jocularity and good sportsmanship, is Swabian. As are all my good friends who showered me with thoughtful gifts and sentiments when I left. Aidan and Matthew's godfather is Swabian, and a happy father of four. (Although I am sure his wife, my oldest friend, would ask me to reiterate that she most emphatically is NOT!)
My fellow Dresdeners (in the German state of Sachsen) didn't exactly greet me with warm fuzzy sentimentality either. They were respectful, courteous and helpful. Which was already an improvement over Stuttgarters who are often resentful at having being asked. If you don't ask the correct question, in the correct way, to the correct person, at the correct time somewhere between coffee break and lunch, you not only won't get an answer, you will get a cold sneer. And no, they won't direct you to the proper office. "Nicht meine Verantwortung." Not my responsibility. And they won't make it their responsibility either. (Which is why it is always so pleasant doing overseas business with someone from the USA, where they honestly try to help you find a solution to your problems and actually seem to find pleasure in doing so. Even if they ARE faking it.) Bureacracy, they call it here, shake their heads at the absurdity and chuckle ruefully. Go ahead, you're doing it right now if you live here!
Back to courtesy without warmth from Sachsen. Which prompted our hosts here in Bayern to tell us. ''Oh, we don't really have that much to do with those people up there. They are kind of odd." Well yeah, I guess losing a war you started with the Russians and then falling victim to communism might do that to a person. Or in this case a nation. Didn't I hear something about a united Germany though? Has anyone told the GERMANS that those "odd" people to the south and north of them are actually fellow countrymen?!
But it IS friendlier here in Bayern. Especially with four children. Back in Stuttgart, we do get smiles, but mostly of stunned disbelief and sympathy. People here actually LIKE our large family. They are HAPPY for us. Out here in Iglersreuth, Frau Bauer tells me that families of four and five children are nothing unusual on the farms. With less incomes than in Baden-Wuerttemburg.
But we still turn heads in the larger towns. Heads that stop, bend down and talk to the kids. Heads that laugh when they realize they are holding the door open for more than the two children they had first spotted. Like a gaggle of geese coming through the door.
Wait. Let me repeat that. They are holding open the door. Holding open the door. As in a common courtesy that I thought had been forgotten in Germany. Holding open the door. For children. You aren't going to see that in Badem-Wuerttemburg. Unless you are hanging out on one of the American military bases. Which is quite possible since they seem to be proliferating quite nicely there despite the end of the cold war. (Another essay, another time!)
In Dresden, a woman in her sixties insisted on giving up her seat on the tram for Aidan and Matthew. As if it were only the right and proper thing to do. She wouldn't have had a seat on the U-Bahn in Stuttgart. The men are pretty quick to get there first.
So that common courtesies aren't as common as they should be. But universal after all.
My cousin in Cologne had some advice when we told him we were considering relocating to Freiberg two years ago. ''It's nice enough." he said. ''I spent seven years there. But it's still Baden-Wuerttemburg. I couldn't do it again."
Seven seems to be a magic number in my family. I couldn't do it again either.
But I do leave a part of myself behind in that odd little part of the world the rest of the world considers part of Germany and the Germans consider Baden-Wuerttemburg. So that I'd like to make an introduction.
Germany, meet Baden-Wuerttemburg.
Baden-Wuerttemberg, meet Germany. Go ahead, they're holding the door open for you!
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