Me Knows Better Than to Say This… but I will. Ireland… great country… great language… still not sure what they are speaking. I asked the young lady at the hotel reception desk about getting on the Internet. Her reply was classic Irish brogue, “Aye… you can get-on the Net.”
“So what do I have to do?”
“Easy, I give you this card, it has a password and I charge your room.”
“Great, how much is it?
“Well ninety minutes is six points, and twenty-four hours is ten points?”
“Excuse me? How much?”
“Six points or ten points.”
“I am unfamiliar with the point system. What does that mean?”
The receptionist looked at Jimmy with a very perplexed look and repeated the prior statement this time trying to enunciate the words more carefully, “Six points or ten points.”
Jimmy was doing mental gyrations, unsure if this was a modified currency for the hotel where they didn’t use a monetary system, but rather a point system… until it dawned on him that she may have said something different.
“Oh, you said – ‘poings.’ What is the value of a ‘poing’ if I choose to do it?”
Again, another perplexed look before she repeated it, “Sir, it’s poings.”
Jimmy tried to pretend he knew what a ‘poing’ was so he asked, “So what is the going exchange rate of a ‘poing?’” hoping to go back to his room to calculate the cost.
The receptionist had a blank look on her face so Jimmy looked to the end of the counter to see the bellhop smiling and barely controlling himself trying not to bust a gut laughing.
Then the young lady said in her best attempt to enunciate the word as slowly as possible, “That would be… six or ten… poings… Sterlin.”
The additional word “Sterlin” still did not register with Jimmy, then a moment later, it finally dawned on Jimmy, the brainiac, that the receptionist… yes the one with the strong Irish accent… was not saying “poings” but rather ‘pounds.” She had been trying to tell Jimmy that the cost was ten British Pounds Sterling.
Jimmy has heard better English in Chinese.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Sunday, November 8, 2009
My Connection To Auschwitz
I need to deviate from my normal blog this one time and let this soak in.
Got back from Auschwitz late last night. Not sure how to start.
Overwhelming is probably the best description. No one would believe the enormity unless they saw first hand the piles of items the Nazis took... like combs - piles and piles of combs.... piles and piles of tooth brushes, wire rimmed glasses, human hair shaved from the dead which they later returned to Germany for textiles and stuffing... clothing on clothing... and the part which really made me quiet was seeing the stacks of baby shoes. You would not believe the pile... and these were just a fraction because most were sent back to Germany. I had to estimate there were hundreds which ranged from 3 months old to just barely toddlers. Tough to even write about and... really tough to hold it together while looking at them.
I was already down, then around the corner I saw something that would later make my heart sink even further, if you can imagine that. In another exhibit they had placed stacks and stacks and stacks and stacks of luggage. Most of them had self-written names with addresses... because the Nazis said they would be getting their belongings right back and delivered to them a little while later after they were settled.
I didn't associate anything from all the names from all the suitcases because I wasn’t looking that closely - there were just too many to process in my mind. Everything started to become numb as I disassociated myself from what was in front of me. There were so many suitcases and so many names just in this one enclosure. It was hard to imagine 1.1 million of these suitcases over 4 years. There were too many to read right in front of my eyes so it was easy to skip over them because the names were unfamiliar to me. I am sure they were just ordinary European names, Polish names, Jewish names, names from everywhere... names I had never really seen, but they became common names too quickly when I skipped over them... too common... all were phantom people to me... people I did not know... people that were ghosts to me... I had no connection to them... then one suitcase changed it all for me. As I stared at it, I realized that these were people that were known and loved by others and they just disappeared brutally without a trace, minutes after getting out of the rail cars just like cattle. Right then I knew how horrible it was. I thought I knew before... but I didn't. I did not really know until I saw that one suitcase and I put myself into the situation. What would you think if you saw your name on that suitcase… or your spouse’s name… or your child’s name… or someone you really loved? Tough to think about it until you realize that those suitcases were just that. In that life could have been someone you knew or loved... and all of them had someone.
Got back from Auschwitz late last night. Not sure how to start.
Overwhelming is probably the best description. No one would believe the enormity unless they saw first hand the piles of items the Nazis took... like combs - piles and piles of combs.... piles and piles of tooth brushes, wire rimmed glasses, human hair shaved from the dead which they later returned to Germany for textiles and stuffing... clothing on clothing... and the part which really made me quiet was seeing the stacks of baby shoes. You would not believe the pile... and these were just a fraction because most were sent back to Germany. I had to estimate there were hundreds which ranged from 3 months old to just barely toddlers. Tough to even write about and... really tough to hold it together while looking at them.
I was already down, then around the corner I saw something that would later make my heart sink even further, if you can imagine that. In another exhibit they had placed stacks and stacks and stacks and stacks of luggage. Most of them had self-written names with addresses... because the Nazis said they would be getting their belongings right back and delivered to them a little while later after they were settled.
I didn't associate anything from all the names from all the suitcases because I wasn’t looking that closely - there were just too many to process in my mind. Everything started to become numb as I disassociated myself from what was in front of me. There were so many suitcases and so many names just in this one enclosure. It was hard to imagine 1.1 million of these suitcases over 4 years. There were too many to read right in front of my eyes so it was easy to skip over them because the names were unfamiliar to me. I am sure they were just ordinary European names, Polish names, Jewish names, names from everywhere... names I had never really seen, but they became common names too quickly when I skipped over them... too common... all were phantom people to me... people I did not know... people that were ghosts to me... I had no connection to them... then one suitcase changed it all for me. As I stared at it, I realized that these were people that were known and loved by others and they just disappeared brutally without a trace, minutes after getting out of the rail cars just like cattle. Right then I knew how horrible it was. I thought I knew before... but I didn't. I did not really know until I saw that one suitcase and I put myself into the situation. What would you think if you saw your name on that suitcase… or your spouse’s name… or your child’s name… or someone you really loved? Tough to think about it until you realize that those suitcases were just that. In that life could have been someone you knew or loved... and all of them had someone.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
French… A Foreign Language to Jimmy
Me Knows Better Than to Say This… but I will. Well, Jimmy flew into Germany and drove into France. The countryside was beautiful and while going through the forests close to the border the drive reminded me of all those fairy tales we heard as kids … like Little Red Riding Hood, Hansel and Gretel (which now, looking back on them were pretty disturbing… what kind of parents try to scare the crap out of kids?)… but I digress as usual. (Luckily this isn’t Twitter, or I would be out of words by now)… but back to the damn story.
Blah… Blah… Blah… oh yeah… the country was beautiful, people friendly and the food… not that great when compared to Italy. But the people were great to talk to. Luckily those two solid years of high school French came in really handy. I could converse if I only said, “Merci beau co.” Which I was forced to say for everything… including the food which only reinforced the idea that the food was good in their minds… which it wasn’t.
Then out of nowhere, the French language was flowing from Jimmy’s tongue. He was in another time and place… perhaps it was an out of body experience as he started pontificating, “Si j'ai été élu, il ne serait aucun gouvernement plus. Il n'y serait un poulet dans chaque pot, deux voitures dans chaque garage (pressé des cours en un seul emplacement) et un téléviseur grand écran plat sur chaque mur. De cours que tout le monde serait propriétaire que je possède la partie de la société de l'iPhone.” … All with the perfect accent of course.
And everyone was amazed.
Of course no one was amazed more than Jimmy… when he stumbled across the translator program on the Internet while writing this blog.
Blah… Blah… Blah… oh yeah… the country was beautiful, people friendly and the food… not that great when compared to Italy. But the people were great to talk to. Luckily those two solid years of high school French came in really handy. I could converse if I only said, “Merci beau co.” Which I was forced to say for everything… including the food which only reinforced the idea that the food was good in their minds… which it wasn’t.
Then out of nowhere, the French language was flowing from Jimmy’s tongue. He was in another time and place… perhaps it was an out of body experience as he started pontificating, “Si j'ai été élu, il ne serait aucun gouvernement plus. Il n'y serait un poulet dans chaque pot, deux voitures dans chaque garage (pressé des cours en un seul emplacement) et un téléviseur grand écran plat sur chaque mur. De cours que tout le monde serait propriétaire que je possède la partie de la société de l'iPhone.” … All with the perfect accent of course.
And everyone was amazed.
Of course no one was amazed more than Jimmy… when he stumbled across the translator program on the Internet while writing this blog.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
The Alps
this one out. I could not come up with anything cynical to say.
Don't think I am going soft here, but I had to send off a preview of
the Alps. Beautiful. Even taken with my phone... And through a
window, I hope you can enjoy.
Looking out at the switchback roads, I can safely say that Jimmy's
wife would stay in town and shop... and collect the insurance money a
little later. Just beautiful... I must take a trip to Switzerland
some day. I would probably fall off the mountain taking photos. The
photo does not do justice to the view at all.
Monday, November 2, 2009
Life is Good in Italy
Me Knows Better Than to Say This… but I will. Life is good in Italy if you don’t need a phone, TV or the Internet. Jimmy dropped off his bags in his hotel room and had to return to the front desk to ask about the phone… or lack thereof. “Can I call out from my room?”
The hotel clerk responded, “Si, si… you can use-a the phone-a in the room-a.”
“But sir, there is no phone in my room… just bare wires sticking out of the wall.”
“No phone-a in the room-a?”
“Yes, just wires.”
“Oh, si, si… sorry then… no phone-a.”
“How about the TV?”
“Si, si… TV in room-a.”
“Yes, I know. TV in room sitting on table, but no way to turn it on.”
“Use-a the remote control-a.”
“But the problem is there is no remote control and no controls on the TV itself. It just stays black.”
“Si, si… sorry. Perhaps when you get back-a to da room-a… you a call-a house keeping about-a the remote control-a?”
“Uh… like I said… no phone. Oh, don’t worry, I’ll just go back to my room and work on the internet.”
“Oh seniora… internet only available across-a da street-a… at restaurant-a.”
“Grazie. I’ll just go over there in my pajamas.”
“Si, si…”
Jimmy decided to have a chocolatta cappuccino to stay up since, besides no alarm clock in the room, how could I get a wake up call? Life is good without electronic stimuli. This is a laid back country. No need for all that messy stuff like worka.
The hotel clerk responded, “Si, si… you can use-a the phone-a in the room-a.”
“But sir, there is no phone in my room… just bare wires sticking out of the wall.”
“No phone-a in the room-a?”
“Yes, just wires.”
“Oh, si, si… sorry then… no phone-a.”
“How about the TV?”
“Si, si… TV in room-a.”
“Yes, I know. TV in room sitting on table, but no way to turn it on.”
“Use-a the remote control-a.”
“But the problem is there is no remote control and no controls on the TV itself. It just stays black.”
“Si, si… sorry. Perhaps when you get back-a to da room-a… you a call-a house keeping about-a the remote control-a?”
“Uh… like I said… no phone. Oh, don’t worry, I’ll just go back to my room and work on the internet.”
“Oh seniora… internet only available across-a da street-a… at restaurant-a.”
“Grazie. I’ll just go over there in my pajamas.”
“Si, si…”
Jimmy decided to have a chocolatta cappuccino to stay up since, besides no alarm clock in the room, how could I get a wake up call? Life is good without electronic stimuli. This is a laid back country. No need for all that messy stuff like worka.
Welcome to Italy
Me Knows Better Than to Say This… but I will. Life definitely is different in Italy. Just after landing in Venice, the plane taxied to the terminal and everyone jumped up trying to get off the plane. After a few moments of no movement, the captain’s voice boomed over the intercom, “We’re going to have to wait another 15 minutes or so. The ground crew arrived, but they forgot to bring the stairs. They sent someone back to get it.”
Welcome to Italy. Life is Good. You-a don’ta worry, we drinka Expresso then we come-a backa and getta you. Ciao.
Italy is so laid back. Jimmy wonders how close to a coma Italians would be if they stopped drinking Expresso.
Welcome to Italy. Life is Good. You-a don’ta worry, we drinka Expresso then we come-a backa and getta you. Ciao.
Italy is so laid back. Jimmy wonders how close to a coma Italians would be if they stopped drinking Expresso.
Oh Crap… Curry Revisited
Me Knows Better Than to Say This… but I will. Not sure if Northwest Airlines knows what they are doing to me or if the dietitian knows the misery they are placing on their customers. Two for two on flights now … is there something about curry spice they have to serve… and I’m not even going to India. But the announcement about the food choices brought the words, “Oh crap… not this again” to my lips. Then Jimmy thought better about his choice of words. We don’t need a repeat of that blog do we?
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