And we're back for the last time. We somehow managed to survive the cruise and the time in Stockholm. Everything went fine. Our cruise lasted four nights, and we had to change our clocks every night as we moved back and forth across time zones. Sheesh!
Anyway, more details to follow.
Thursday, June 28, 2012
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Last one
Our last family trip in Europe beings tomorrow night. We'll fly to Stockholm and spend the night. The next day we'll take a four-day cruise that visits Tallinn, Estonia and St. Petersburg, Russia. I wish we could spend more time in Russia, but a day is better than nothing, I suppose. We'll then hang around Stockholm for another couple of days.
After that trip, the insanity begins. Let's see if I'm still sane in six months.
After that trip, the insanity begins. Let's see if I'm still sane in six months.
Friday, June 15, 2012
I love the Swiss and I want to strangle them all
I'm currently going through a typical and frustrating Swiss experience. It's so dang Swiss!
Here's the story: Every year, anyone who lives here buys a half-price train pass, which allows you to buy train tickets at half of the posted price. (It's really just a scam to gouge the tourists. No one who lives here pays full price.)
I renewed mine about a month ago. The new pass usually comes in the mail in about a week. I've been watching for mine, but it's never arrived. It must have gotten lost somewhere along the way.
I've now had three almost identical conversations with the clerks at the train station when I've gone to explain my dilemma. The clerk patiently listen to me as I tell him or her that I renewed my pass but that I never received it in the mail. They then call some central number to find out what's going on. After they talk in Swiss German for a minute, they hang up the phone and, pleased as punch, report to me that my pass was mailed out at the end of May. They then contentedly wait for me to go away.
At that point, I explain that yes, I'm aware that my pass was mailed. The problem is that it never made it to my house.
There's some puzzlement as the poor clerk tries to process this information. It's difficult, I can tell. This just doesn't happen in Switzerland. When something is mailed, it arrives, period. The clerk's first response is usually to repeat that it was mailed to me at the end of May. After that, the clerk will pull up my address on their monitor and confirm that it's still my address. Yes, I say. They'll then ask if my name is on my mailbox. Yes, I say.
At this point, the game shifts to "Blame the Ignorant American." They come up with different variations, but they amount to the same thing: this is my fault. The second clerk patiently explained to me what the envelope would look like and suggested that I had probably thrown it away by mistake. The third clerk suggested that I go home and conduct a thorough search of my apartment because it must be there somewhere. (I found that remark to be so condescending that for the first time in my life, I felt the urge to strike a female Swiss train clerk. I suppressed it.)
I haven't made much progress. They keep giving me temporary passes under the assumption that it will show up in the mail or that I'll finally come across it in my apartment. I may just live on temporary passes until I leave at the end of July.
On the other hand, I love the Swiss. I'm taking the kids to our public pool tomorrow. As I've mentioned before, it's spotless. I know that I shall never again see a public pool as clean and well-maintained as a Swiss public pool.
Here's the story: Every year, anyone who lives here buys a half-price train pass, which allows you to buy train tickets at half of the posted price. (It's really just a scam to gouge the tourists. No one who lives here pays full price.)
I renewed mine about a month ago. The new pass usually comes in the mail in about a week. I've been watching for mine, but it's never arrived. It must have gotten lost somewhere along the way.
I've now had three almost identical conversations with the clerks at the train station when I've gone to explain my dilemma. The clerk patiently listen to me as I tell him or her that I renewed my pass but that I never received it in the mail. They then call some central number to find out what's going on. After they talk in Swiss German for a minute, they hang up the phone and, pleased as punch, report to me that my pass was mailed out at the end of May. They then contentedly wait for me to go away.
At that point, I explain that yes, I'm aware that my pass was mailed. The problem is that it never made it to my house.
There's some puzzlement as the poor clerk tries to process this information. It's difficult, I can tell. This just doesn't happen in Switzerland. When something is mailed, it arrives, period. The clerk's first response is usually to repeat that it was mailed to me at the end of May. After that, the clerk will pull up my address on their monitor and confirm that it's still my address. Yes, I say. They'll then ask if my name is on my mailbox. Yes, I say.
At this point, the game shifts to "Blame the Ignorant American." They come up with different variations, but they amount to the same thing: this is my fault. The second clerk patiently explained to me what the envelope would look like and suggested that I had probably thrown it away by mistake. The third clerk suggested that I go home and conduct a thorough search of my apartment because it must be there somewhere. (I found that remark to be so condescending that for the first time in my life, I felt the urge to strike a female Swiss train clerk. I suppressed it.)
I haven't made much progress. They keep giving me temporary passes under the assumption that it will show up in the mail or that I'll finally come across it in my apartment. I may just live on temporary passes until I leave at the end of July.
On the other hand, I love the Swiss. I'm taking the kids to our public pool tomorrow. As I've mentioned before, it's spotless. I know that I shall never again see a public pool as clean and well-maintained as a Swiss public pool.
Monday, June 4, 2012
Every six years
June 17th is always a special day, but it's even more special this year. Something is happening this year that only happens about every six years (it varies due to the effects of Leap Year): my birthday is on Father's Day. That's right, this year, we're referring to June 17th as "Ethan's Day."
My family has something extra special planned for me. They haven't actually said that, but I can just tell from the way they're acting that it's something great. There's just something a little different in the way that Stace says, "For the last time, clean up this pile of papers," or the way Tanner says, "Dad, I don't want to practice guitar," or the way Lindsey says, "No, I'm not going to bed like you told me to." The signs are subtle, but they're unmistakable. It's gonna be incredible!
My family has something extra special planned for me. They haven't actually said that, but I can just tell from the way they're acting that it's something great. There's just something a little different in the way that Stace says, "For the last time, clean up this pile of papers," or the way Tanner says, "Dad, I don't want to practice guitar," or the way Lindsey says, "No, I'm not going to bed like you told me to." The signs are subtle, but they're unmistakable. It's gonna be incredible!
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