To repeat, from Part 1, lest I forget:
DiapersThe first principle is that nobody should be ashamed of thinking a thing funny because it is foreign; the second is that he should be ashamed of thinking it wrong because it is funny. The reaction of his senses and superficial habits of mind against something new, and to him abnormal, is a perfectly healthy reaction. But the mind which imagines that mere unfamiliarity can possibly prove anything about inferiority is a very inadequate mind. — G. K. Chesterton, writing on foreign travel in What Is America?
I thought the diapering world was divided neatly between cloth and disposibles, with elimination communication thrown in as an added wrinkle—which only shows how limited and parochial my world has been. Of course, the whole diaper situation here was planned to be well under control by now, but it has become an issue thanks to a miscommunication with the "diaper lady" reminiscent of my last-minute struggles with Lufthansa's baggage policy. "No, I don't actually sell diapers; I only have samples you can experiment with to help you decide what you like. You can't actually buy them here in Switzerland, and no, I don't have any overseas suppliers to recommend...." (More)
The first principle is that nobody should be ashamed of thinking a thing funny because it is foreign; the second is that he should be ashamed of thinking it wrong because it is funny. The reaction of his senses and superficial habits of mind against something new, and to him abnormal, is a perfectly healthy reaction. But the mind which imagines that mere unfamiliarity can possibly prove anything about inferiority is a very inadequate mind. — G. K. Chesterton, writing on foreign travel in What Is America?
Visiting another country or culture is one thing; living there, even for a few weeks, is another. As a sightseer, it is easy to find something funny and respect it inspite of, or even because of, its apparent oddity. A good attitude can be more difficult when it frustrates the efforts of daily life.
I didn't need to live in a foreign country to experience those frustrations. Soon after arriving in Switzerland, I found myself spinning in a disorientation that had nothing to do with language differences, and at the same time, puzzling over the familiarity of the feeling. Then I remembered the first few weeks after our move from Florida to the Boston area. Boston is a great city, and there's much about Massachusetts that I now miss—a lot, even. Nonetheless, as I was trying to set up housekeeping in our small apartment, searching store after store and making telephone call after telephone call trying to find a source of Rubbermaid storage bins, I was very nearly reduced to tears and a heartfelt cry of, "A Wal-Mart! A Wal-Mart! My kingdom for a Wal-Mart!" Although I eventually came to appreciate what Boston had that Orlando didn't, what was lacking (or apparently lacking) was uppermost in my mind in those days. (I never did find out where Bostonians purchase Rubbermaid storage bins, or even if they use such things at all, but I did eventually find a Wal-Mart.)
Freely admitting that differences are not an indication of inferiority, but with Chesterton's permission to find them peculiar, I will be sharing some of the disorientations and adjustments of my time here.* (More)
The trouble with having a handicap not shared by most people is that no one appreciates it when you have a major victory. If they care about you, they may try, but it's difficult to avoid a "well, duh!" inflection when faced with an accomplishment that is, to you, incomprehensibly easy.
Take Porter along an unknown pathway once, and chances are he will be able to reproduce it. Take me along the same route 10 times, and if I am talking, listening, thinking, or otherwise not paying deliberate, close attention to landmarks and directions—which I find very difficult to do—and I will still have no clue how to get from A to B. Basel is not a large city, but despite several visits I couldn't tell you how to get from Barfüsserplatz to Theaterplatz. (More)
Stephan returned from a business trip, and graciously spent what few minutes he had free to install a new system that not only includes more reliable Internet, but wireless connection! Whoo-hoo! Now I am home away from home! I think it's a good thing—one day without Internet was a nice break, but I'm not ready for a steady diet.
Among many people I know, IKEA seems to be almost a cult store, like Trader Joe's, Whole Foods, and Penzey's. I've come to understand people's devotion to the last three, but had to travel to Switzerland to have the IKEA experience. Part of the fascination here is the reasonable prices: pretty normal by U. S. standards, but worth a special trip here. Or maybe it was the restaurant special: a huge plate of Swedish meatballs, with gravy and lingonberry sauce, plus a mountain of French fries with unlimited ketchup, all for CHF 5. I could have done without the gravy, but the meatballs were very good, the lingonberry sauce terrific, and I hadn't had French fries in ages. Even the shopping was fun, even for this non-shopper, though I suppose I'll have to go to Orlando's IKEA to discover what was the overall IKEA experience and what was due to the local flavor. The meal was my favorite, though—mostly because it was a good time to chat and renew acquaintance with a Swiss friend. Actually, she's not Swiss—she's an American living in Germany—but I meant a friend we only see when visiting Switzerland. (More)
I know, I know, I have many more adventures to write up, but I'm starting with this one, as I think it will be more interesting to most of those for whom I write.
The first adventure of the adventure occurred the day before I left. I suppose I should have discoverd the problem earlier, but I didn't. (More)
We recently returned from a lovely two weeks in Switzerland (with brief side trips to France, Germany, and Italy). I hope eventually to post more pictures and stories, but here's a start.
Just over a week before our scheduled departure from the U.S., the Icelandic volcano, Eyjafjallajokull, threw a spanner into the works for European flights. Porter wrestled for a while with changing our itinerary to go through airports less risky than Amsterdam's Schiphol, but with the ash cloud as unpredictable as it was, decided the best course was to hand on to what we had. We did what we always do when there's nothing else we can do (and even when there is): we prayed a lot. Unlike that of our friend who needed to get to her brother's funeral (she made it), this was not a critical flight, but the primary purpose of the trip was to attend Janet's end-of-school recital, and we would have been very sad to miss it, having not yet heard any of her grad school performances. (More)
The Franklin Insitute, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
I don't remember my first visit to the Franklin Institute; I believe it must have been on some visit to Philadelphia when I was very young; all I remember was walking through the heart. Later, however, we moved to the Philadelphia area, and were regular visitors. For two summers I worked in the Franklin Institute Research Labs in the building next door, and even more important to me than my paycheck was the ID badge that allowed me to take the tunnel between the buildings and spend most of my lunch hours in the museum.
After he retired, my dad became a Franklin Institute volunteer, and it was natural for him to take his grandchildren there when they came to visit. By that time, the museum had grown an addition, with new exhibits that made it look like any modern science museum, but the kids' favorite, and my own, was the old building, with its greater educational content and more detailed, written information with each exhibit. Now Dad's grandchildren have children of their own, and on our recent visit to Philadelphia we all looked forward to watching them delight in our old favorites.
The great-grandkids were happy enough, but the rest of us were somewhat disappointed. To our delight, the heart is still there, as is the train that Dad used to drive as one of his docent duties (it's easier to keep a 350-ton locomotive than to get rid of one) but the "new building" style has now infected the old building, too. Many of our favorite exhibits are gone, replaced by displays designed for shorter attention spans and lesser literacy. The math room that had kept our kids entranced for hours was nowhere to be found, and when I finally asked a docent, "Excuse me, it's been a long time since I was here last, and I can't find the math room," he replied, "It has been a long time since you've visited; they took that out years ago."
It took a bit of effort, but we did find Newton's Dream, the kinetic sculpture that so entranced Heather as a child. It's in a different place now, and has been cut down in size, but that didn't stop the children from following it with the same fascination. Also riveting was Der Lauf der Dinge, a Swiss-made movie of a 30-minute Rube Goldberg setup with lots of pyrotechnics and impressive chemical reactions. Thanks to the magic of YouTube, you, too, can see this amazing performance, albeit broken into three segments. (Here are the links as well, since I note that embedded videos don't always show up in feedreaders: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3.
Lest I be seen as a totally hopeless conservative who never likes anything new, the museum's newest exhibit, Amazing Machine, is also excellent, and we could have spent much longer playing with its cams, gears, pulley, and linkages had we not been nearing the end of our visit. (Heather: That's what I want for Christmas. You can turn a mechanical engineer into a joyful homemaker, but the engineer is still there.)
The American Museum of Natural History, New York, New York
On my first visit to the American Museum of Natural History I was probably about as young as when I first encountered the Franklin Institute, but in this case nearly half a century elapsed between visits. The AMNA, however, shows more respect for its old exhibits, and the wonderful dioramas that are all I remember from my first visit are still featured, with all their high information content and long descriptions to read. I could easily have spent the entire day among them. Porter found one, the African buffalo, that was sponsored by George Eastman, and remarked, "He sponsored the Buffalo because there is no animal named Rochester, but he should have sponsored the Kodiak bear." Yes, we're still married; I happen to like that kind of humor.
The museum has several new exhibits as well as the old, most of which were quite good. There was a bit of a "politically correct" feel in a few places, but it was not unbearable, and in general the educational value and written descriptions were sufficient. Despite my primary concern for material to read, I am also particularly sensitive to the layout of displays—color, font, background, use and placement of images and other media—and this, too, the AMNH exhibits did well.
One disappointment was the Hall of Minerals, chiefly because whoever is responsible for lighting must have been on vacation. For several months. It was dark. At first I thought the gloom was meant to provide contrast to the brilliance of the minerals and gems, but many of the lights that should have been highlighting the rocks were also out. We very nearly missed the famous Star of India because it was in the dark.
In addition to the old favorites, we signed up for several special exhibits and shows. Traveling the Silk Road was disappointing, but only because I had expected the most from it. It was well done, but crowded, with not as much information as I had hoped and not enough time in the crowd to do justice to what was there. The best part was the section on silk making and sericulture.
I believe Journey to the Stars was a better-than-average planetarium show (more information, less mindless entertainment), but unfortunately I responded the way I always do when faced with a movie or movie-like substance in a dark room, awakening only at the end.
The Butterfly Conservatory was interesting, though I think I've seen more fluttering in the butterfly garden at our own Leu Gardens.
Frogs: A Chorus of Colors was great; Heather would have loved it. Except the part where we learned about the devastation being wrought by the chytrid fungus.
The American Museum of Natural History is well worth visiting more often than every 50 years. The dioramas alone are a homeschooler's paradise.Where Bd [Batrachochytrium dendrobatidis] thrives, generally in moist cool habitats, 50% of amphibian species and 80% of individuals can be expected to disappear within one year.... Currently it cannot be stopped in the wild and a minority of species seem able to survive with a Bd infection as larvae or as adults and these animals likely serve as a reservoir and vectors for future outbreaks. Notable among resistant species are worldwide invasive pest species including marine toads, American bullfrogs and African clawed frogs.
I briefly reviewed the wonderful Claude Moore Colonial Farm back in 2005. It's time for an update, because there's a great article about the place and its people on Slate. Don't miss the video, which I can't figure out how to imbed here since it's not YouTube or a similar site.
After all the travelling we did in the last quarter of 2008 and in January of 2009, I, the homebody, was really ready to enjoy a few months with nowhere to go. But "the best-laid schemes o' mice an' men gang aft agley," and in this case I'm thrilled.
Ever since we moved away from Boston, I'd been waiting for Porter to get a job assignment back there so I could stay with him while doing research at the New England Historic Genealogical Society Library on Newbury Street. He's been all over the country, but never to Boston...until now. (More)
Many people travel on business. It's not an easy life, and different people have different strategies for coping with the stress and boredom. Some appreciate the opportunity to explore new cities; some enjoy the perks of nicer hotels, restaurants, and even golf courses than they would otherwise be able to afford; some accumulate airline and hotel points and use them to provide their families with otherwise unreachable opportunities. There are also those who take advantage of the relative anonymity and distance from home and family to indulge in wanton behavior.
Some businessmen, however, wax poetic. Don't miss this offering from our favorite thduggie.
The life of a travelling businessman is not easy, but rain brings rainbows, at least if you look from a favorable angle. My recent trip to Phoenix was such a rainbow. You'd think that an introvert like me would not be eager to leave home so soon after having been away for a month, but this was the time that was available—and it turned out to be perfect.
Fly Southwest airlines in the middle of the week, and you can get away with forgetting to print your boarding pass until four hours after check-in opens, as I did once and still got a boarding slot in the A-30's. Fridays, however, are filled with savvy businessmen anxious to return home; Porter still snagged an A-30's number for me, but had to check in during the first couple of minutes to do so. Due to his many flights on Southwest, his own A-list number is guaranteed. Southwest is currently my favorite airline, they having so far been able to resist charging for normal luggage, drinks, and snacks. Little things, I know, but their value in generating positive feelings toward the airline is disproportionate to the cost, at least in my case. Conversely, I feel a lot worse about USAirways than their extra charges would actually merit. (More)While waiting at the computer, and feeling a little nostalgic for Basel, I found this, which I post for those who wish to see a bit of where they will be in a few months. Be sure to show Jonathan the Hammering Man. If I don't look at the feet I can imagine the runner is Janet. :)
Last Saturday we returned to the Van Fleet Trail and rode the second third, from the Bay Lake Trailhead to the Green Pond Road Trailhead, another round trip of about 20 miles.
As we were riding on the straight, flat, paved trail in the middle of nowhere, no motor vehicles to worry about and almost no other bicyclists, I laughed a little at our habit of wearing bike helmets. When we began the practice, wearing a helmet was awkward and several times we forgot to put them on; now it's nearly as automatic as buckling our seatbelts in the car. But a trail like this is safer than just pedaling down our very safe, isolated, residential street.
Or so we thought. (More)We ventured further last weekend, driving to Clermont and the General James. A. Van Fleet State Trail. Porter was all for doing the whole 30 miles from one end to the other, but I voted for going in stages. This time we biked about a third of the way, 19+ miles, from the Mabel Trailhead to the Bay Lake Trailhead and back.
The Van Fleet Trail is straight and flat, and apparently popular with those who want to race and time their biking, so it is well marked in miles and tenths, much more reliably than any other trail we've been on. Thus I was able to check the calibration of my odometer, and was pleased that it appears to be off by less than half a percent.
This is one of Florida's most rural trails, and thus a pleasant ride. We were not there at the best time of day to see wildlife, but the sights did get better after the dead rat in the parking lot. A rabbit bounded across the trail in front of us, we saw a few tortoises, and heard innumerable birds.We were exhausted after our return from Switzerland, and our trip was a lot shorter and easier than Janet's will be, so I'm sure she'll appreciate your prayers. She has four flights, ground transportation between two airports in New York, long wait times, and about 24 hours of travel—if all goes well—to look forward to. Good thing she's younger than we are. :)
It sure will be good to see her!
