We got to take our first, family, out-of-the-country trip this last weekend to Heidelberg, Germany. We left on a Friday, March 9, and returned on Monday, March 12. We had a great trip and got to visit the historic old town and the Heidelberg Castle. I forget how young America is until I go to cathedrals and castles that were built in 1500. That is old, historical real estate!
The most exciting part of the trip was our first, international train trip, complete with 3 transfers just to challenge us all the more. (extra credit for over achievers!) We were especially excited to ride the "Hi-Speed", one of the super-fast trains in Europe that make getting from one country to another in 4-5 hours a reality. We rode 2 "regular" trains and then transferred to the Hi-Speed train in Dusseldorf. It was a 1 1/2 hour trip and we'd only been riding for 25 minutes when the train stopped in a station. The conductor announced something in German and all of the passengers looked at each other and kind of chuckled. I wasn't in on the joke and, being totally in the dark, I assumed the worst and thought that something was either wrong or she had told everyone to check out those weird tourists in Car #22 - us. Then, she kept talking and made another announcement which made everyone groan. OK, it was bad news or she had just told a really bad joke. Then everyone stood up, collected their luggage and began exiting the train. OK, she couldn't have been that bad so this was an ominous sign. Jim grabbed the attention of a passenger across the aisle and asked what was going on. She explained, in wonderful English, that there was a mechanical problem with the train and all passengers needed to get off and find another way to get to their destination. Just like that, we were in a foreign country, couldn't speak the language, didn't know where we were or how to work the system to find an alternate route to Heidelberg. After we picked up our luggage and stepped off the train, Jim continued to talk to the 2 women who had been sitting across the aisle from him. I think they felt sorry for us since we had 2 children with us and we looked so pitiful - plus we had been the butt of the conductor's jokes so they felt like they owed us one. Remember, we in the US are use to marching up to the ticket counter at the airport, thumping on the desk and demanding that they find us an alternate flight to Detroit. The train stations in Europe feel no such pressure for stranded passengers. The women told us we could follow them to a bus headed for the Koln ("Cologne" in the US) airport. We weren't sure how that would help us, but talk of an airport did make me consider flying back to the Netherlands. Then, the more techy woman pulled out her iPhone and looked at her train schedule app. I almost kissed her at that point but was afraid she might lose her concentration. She said we would need to catch a train from that station that would take us to the Koln train station, then transfer to a second train that would go straight through to Heidelberg. The second train that departed from Koln left at 3:17. I looked at a nearby clock - it was 3:04. To say we hurried is putting it mildly. We thanked them profusely and ran to catch the first train that left at 3:08. As soon as we jumped on, it left the station. It took about 3 minutes to reach the Koln station and we began running for the second train. It was to leave at 3:17. I looked at a clock as all four of us ran through the station - it was 3:12. We arrived on platform 7 and checked the digital schedule board. The announcement for the Heidelberg train was flashing, meaning that it was pulling into the station. Whew! Made it! And then I looked at the board more closely - the train was leaving from platform 5! I yelled to the troops, as only a panicked mother can, "We have 3 minutes, RUN!!" We ran past platform 7 and then 6, running into several people on the way. Poor Jim and Grace were carrying the luggage and running as fast as they could. Finally, we got to platform 5 and jumped onto the train, just before it left. I was never so happy to board a train in all my life. About an hour outside of Heidelberg, we rode for miles along side the Rhine river. We saw tiny towns with little chalet houses and huge castles on the mountain tops. I kept repeating, "This looks just like Germany!" Even though that seems to be a no-brainer, it is always nice to visit a foreign country and find that it matches your mental images just perfectly. Thank you to the lovely lady with the great English, thank you to the smart woman with the train app, and Danke to Germany for being so beautiful.
Marathon-runner Becky
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Out & About
This past Sunday, my dad decided it'd be good for us all of us to get out of the house. It'd been five days or so since Katie and I had left the apartment, so we were definitely willing to let ourselves be forced out of our bum-clothes to get some walking energy into our under-used legs.
We bundled up and started off to brave the cold.. It had just recently snowed four fluffy inches of snow. Of course, we didn't bring any snow appeasing shoes. We were walking and praying our feet didnt fall off due to the wet & cold. We made it though, and went to our first museum here- the DAF museum. DAF is a car/truck/engine company known regionally in the Netherlands and throughout Europe. I don't know if it was just me, but I was disappointed that I never saw any sign of Daffy Duck there. Oh well. It was a very cool museum! Very well put together and fancy- as far as museums go. We enjoyed looking at all the 50s- early 70s vintage cars! Mom fell in love with a few, and Katie, with her obsession of all things auto, was in Seventh Heaven. They also had some vintage service vehicles! They had a silent film playing in a theater that was under the cafeteria. The whole experience was very neat. We have 5 pictures attached of us there :)
When we left the museum we decided that blood sugars' were dropping, bodies were beginning to freeze, and getting warm food was becoming imperative. We headed downtown to do some explorin'. We ended up going to the mall and getting my mom a charm bracelet to start off her collection of charms per country. Afterwards, we went to a McDonald's (so European) and all got fries and coke to carry us to dinner. Well, the snack was just right to tide us over until an hour and a half later when we dug into some tapas! (also very European).. It was wonderful. We ate till we couldn't manage another bite, and then started the walk back home.
The whole day was fun. We got to see some very interesting things, eat some very delish food, and have a great family day.
Sidenote: While upon leaving theDAF museum, we met another American (YAY!) He's an electrical engineer and works for the American part of the Company in Eindhoven. He has family in Indiana too. Oh what a small world. He gave us some pointers on the city. Now we know where to rent bikes! Whoo! I cannot wait for spring...
^^ Dad, Katie, and I posing in front of a one-seater car. It was used in a circus in the 50s
^^Katie using the computer to control the position of a statue outside
^^Katie's Singing in the Rain pose
^^My Singing in the Rain pose
^^Bre and Scott, is this the car I can drive?
We bundled up and started off to brave the cold.. It had just recently snowed four fluffy inches of snow. Of course, we didn't bring any snow appeasing shoes. We were walking and praying our feet didnt fall off due to the wet & cold. We made it though, and went to our first museum here- the DAF museum. DAF is a car/truck/engine company known regionally in the Netherlands and throughout Europe. I don't know if it was just me, but I was disappointed that I never saw any sign of Daffy Duck there. Oh well. It was a very cool museum! Very well put together and fancy- as far as museums go. We enjoyed looking at all the 50s- early 70s vintage cars! Mom fell in love with a few, and Katie, with her obsession of all things auto, was in Seventh Heaven. They also had some vintage service vehicles! They had a silent film playing in a theater that was under the cafeteria. The whole experience was very neat. We have 5 pictures attached of us there :)
When we left the museum we decided that blood sugars' were dropping, bodies were beginning to freeze, and getting warm food was becoming imperative. We headed downtown to do some explorin'. We ended up going to the mall and getting my mom a charm bracelet to start off her collection of charms per country. Afterwards, we went to a McDonald's (so European) and all got fries and coke to carry us to dinner. Well, the snack was just right to tide us over until an hour and a half later when we dug into some tapas! (also very European).. It was wonderful. We ate till we couldn't manage another bite, and then started the walk back home.
The whole day was fun. We got to see some very interesting things, eat some very delish food, and have a great family day.
Sidenote: While upon leaving theDAF museum, we met another American (YAY!) He's an electrical engineer and works for the American part of the Company in Eindhoven. He has family in Indiana too. Oh what a small world. He gave us some pointers on the city. Now we know where to rent bikes! Whoo! I cannot wait for spring...
^^ Dad, Katie, and I posing in front of a one-seater car. It was used in a circus in the 50s
^^Katie using the computer to control the position of a statue outside
^^Katie's Singing in the Rain pose
^^My Singing in the Rain pose
^^Bre and Scott, is this the car I can drive?
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Handyman 101
Early in our Hong Kong sabbatical, I established a close relationship with
the building's handyman and this sabbatical proved to be no different. I
attribute most of this to my inability to run foreign appliances. On my first
two days in Eindhoven, I discovered several things that endeared this new
apartment to me: 1) The washer leaked water onto the floor 2) The fabric
softener drawer of the washer was filled with water 3) the shower was leaking
onto the bathroom floor each time it was used 4) there was not a single towel
rod, hook or horizontal surface in the bathroom.
On Friday, I made 2 dates for Monday; one with a washer repairman and the other with a handyman. The washer repairman arrived first. He was a distinguished-looking 60 year old, dressed like a banker with little round glasses and nicely combed hair. I assumed there was no way he was going to get down and dirty with this tempermental, water-spitting machine when he was dressed like that. I walked him up our 3 story spiral staircase where our laundry room is so conveniently located. (my calf muscles now look like a speed skater's) I explained to him what my main problems were and he said he would check it out while I went downstairs. He obviously didn't want me to see his trade secrets in fixing a washer and be out of a job. After a full 15 minutes, he called me upstairs. Lucky for him, I have those speed skater's legs. Our conversation went like this:
Washer guy: "Your zof-ner dizpenzer iz flooded. Dat iz not nomal."
Me: "I thought so"
Washer guy: "Do you uze zof-ner?"
Me: "No"
Washer guy: "Den vee don't need to fix it."
Washer guy: "An' you haf vater on da floor?"
Me: "Yes"
Washer guy: "A lettle vater on da floor iz not going to hurt anyteng. Call me if you haf any more problems."
I walked him downstairs and showed him the door, hoping the rental company didn't spend a lot on this service call. About 30 minutes later, my doorbell rang again. I opened the door to see a very skinny man in black tight jeans, a black t-shirt with a matching tiny, black moustache. He held up a couple of tools in each hand and announced, "Handyman!", like it was the answer to the bonus round question on a tv quiz show. Like a true tourist, I repeat back, "Handyman?!", with the same inane enthusiasm. Having established his role in both of our minds, I took him to the second floor to show him the leaky, rod-less bathroom. It became apparent very quickly that when he was taking English classes as a child, he was caught several times daydreaming out the windows. This resulted in very few words that were familiar to both of us (other than the warm salutation of, "Handyman!") so we knew we were going to have to perform our best pantomime to get our ideas across.
He mimed ripping all of the caulking out of my already leaking shower and then repeated the actions, leading me to believe he was next going to replace it with brand new caulk. Then it was my turn to look dumb, so I mimed shaking out an imaginary towel and then hanging it on the imaginary towel rod that was bolted to my real bathroom wall. He nodded that he understood and told me he would be back. I asked him when. He held up an index finger to the ceiling as if about to announce a great scientific discovery and said, "Friday!" (remember that this is Monday) I wasn't sure what would take so long to get back with rods and a tube of caulking but figured it must be a Dutch thing. I agreed and walked him to the door.
On Friday he returned, as promised, this time with a helper. The helper didn't know how to hold up tools on either side of his head and proclaim, "Handyman!", but he did hold up tools and make a grunting sound, so I assumed he was a legitimate stranger that I was suppose to let into my house and take charge of my bathroom. The helper ripped out and replaced the caulking while my original handyman used a noisy drill to install, I hoped, about 17 strategically -placed hooks and rods. I envisioned towels hanging all over my dry bathroom.
He called me upstairs and showed me the lone hook he had installed by our sink for a hand towel. Then, he showed me his ingenious solution to my four-person family towel problem - a shower rod, spanning from one wall to the other. While I have nothing against shower rods in general, I was not real excited. Resuming our earlier pantomime routine, he demonstrated the way I would be hanging up four towels, making a little "dat" sound as he hung up each one. "Dat, dat, dat, dat", he said, and then turned to me, triumphantly waving his hand in front of the newly contained pretend towels. I smiled and told him that he had done a good job. After a week of towels hanging from doors, chairs and radiators, I didn't care if he had installed drywall nails to hold up our dripping towels.
That night after my shower, I hung my towel up next to my husband's on our brand new, shower/towel rod. I stood back and admired the towels, hanging up like clean laundry on a clothesline. I went to bed, contentedly thinking of dry towels and drifting off to sleep. My dreams were interrupted though by a loud crash in the bathroom - the casualties were few - a shower rod and 2 damp Dutch towels.
On Friday, I made 2 dates for Monday; one with a washer repairman and the other with a handyman. The washer repairman arrived first. He was a distinguished-looking 60 year old, dressed like a banker with little round glasses and nicely combed hair. I assumed there was no way he was going to get down and dirty with this tempermental, water-spitting machine when he was dressed like that. I walked him up our 3 story spiral staircase where our laundry room is so conveniently located. (my calf muscles now look like a speed skater's) I explained to him what my main problems were and he said he would check it out while I went downstairs. He obviously didn't want me to see his trade secrets in fixing a washer and be out of a job. After a full 15 minutes, he called me upstairs. Lucky for him, I have those speed skater's legs. Our conversation went like this:
Washer guy: "Your zof-ner dizpenzer iz flooded. Dat iz not nomal."
Me: "I thought so"
Washer guy: "Do you uze zof-ner?"
Me: "No"
Washer guy: "Den vee don't need to fix it."
Washer guy: "An' you haf vater on da floor?"
Me: "Yes"
Washer guy: "A lettle vater on da floor iz not going to hurt anyteng. Call me if you haf any more problems."
I walked him downstairs and showed him the door, hoping the rental company didn't spend a lot on this service call. About 30 minutes later, my doorbell rang again. I opened the door to see a very skinny man in black tight jeans, a black t-shirt with a matching tiny, black moustache. He held up a couple of tools in each hand and announced, "Handyman!", like it was the answer to the bonus round question on a tv quiz show. Like a true tourist, I repeat back, "Handyman?!", with the same inane enthusiasm. Having established his role in both of our minds, I took him to the second floor to show him the leaky, rod-less bathroom. It became apparent very quickly that when he was taking English classes as a child, he was caught several times daydreaming out the windows. This resulted in very few words that were familiar to both of us (other than the warm salutation of, "Handyman!") so we knew we were going to have to perform our best pantomime to get our ideas across.
He mimed ripping all of the caulking out of my already leaking shower and then repeated the actions, leading me to believe he was next going to replace it with brand new caulk. Then it was my turn to look dumb, so I mimed shaking out an imaginary towel and then hanging it on the imaginary towel rod that was bolted to my real bathroom wall. He nodded that he understood and told me he would be back. I asked him when. He held up an index finger to the ceiling as if about to announce a great scientific discovery and said, "Friday!" (remember that this is Monday) I wasn't sure what would take so long to get back with rods and a tube of caulking but figured it must be a Dutch thing. I agreed and walked him to the door.
On Friday he returned, as promised, this time with a helper. The helper didn't know how to hold up tools on either side of his head and proclaim, "Handyman!", but he did hold up tools and make a grunting sound, so I assumed he was a legitimate stranger that I was suppose to let into my house and take charge of my bathroom. The helper ripped out and replaced the caulking while my original handyman used a noisy drill to install, I hoped, about 17 strategically -placed hooks and rods. I envisioned towels hanging all over my dry bathroom.
He called me upstairs and showed me the lone hook he had installed by our sink for a hand towel. Then, he showed me his ingenious solution to my four-person family towel problem - a shower rod, spanning from one wall to the other. While I have nothing against shower rods in general, I was not real excited. Resuming our earlier pantomime routine, he demonstrated the way I would be hanging up four towels, making a little "dat" sound as he hung up each one. "Dat, dat, dat, dat", he said, and then turned to me, triumphantly waving his hand in front of the newly contained pretend towels. I smiled and told him that he had done a good job. After a week of towels hanging from doors, chairs and radiators, I didn't care if he had installed drywall nails to hold up our dripping towels.
That night after my shower, I hung my towel up next to my husband's on our brand new, shower/towel rod. I stood back and admired the towels, hanging up like clean laundry on a clothesline. I went to bed, contentedly thinking of dry towels and drifting off to sleep. My dreams were interrupted though by a loud crash in the bathroom - the casualties were few - a shower rod and 2 damp Dutch towels.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Netherland Appliances 101
Sabbaticals always seem to present challenges to a person trying to run a household. Most of the challenges are presented by the non-Western appliances that seem to come out of a scary Stephen King novel. The first 3 weeks of our 1996 Hong Kong sabbatical seemed to revolve around trying to use the washing machine without losing any pieces of clothing or our minds. Not to be outdone by Asia, the Netherlands also has cantankerous appliances that can only be successfully operated if you were born here, have a local birth certificate and own stock in Flockinschtok detergent.
The second evening in our flat included a lovely dinner of spaghetti covered in a very anemic tomato sauce which Katie promptly dragged her white sweatshirt sleeve through. Judging by the sauce's bland taste, this was possibly done to give it more flavor. After dinner, I decided to test out my foreign appliance skills by using the Dutch washer. I thought it would be a good idea to test the machine by washing the sweatshirt by itself. This turned out to be a good idea since the drum was only big enough to hold 3 socks so washing a sweatshirt pushed this poor washer to its absolute capacity - think stuffing the gun powder down the neck of the cannon. Wanting to increase my chances of success, I thought it wise to read the manual which luckily had a section in English. (My Dutch so far is a little sketchy) The instructions started with "Loading the Machine" - a good place to start. It explained in detail how to open the door which was about the size of a dinner plate (remember tiny capacity). The instructions then said, "put the clothes into the washer, but first make sure there are no pets in the drum." My initial 15 seconds of "Huh?" was then followed by 3 solid minutes of hysterical laughter. Since this helpful hint was included in the instructions, I figured this must give washer users some options when Fido or Fluffy are found lounging in a cold metal drum. #1: Pull the animal out. #2 Add clothes and begin the wash cycle to teach the pet a lesson. #3 Choose the extra long spin cycle since we never liked that cat anyway.
The next step was figuring out how to select a wash cycle. I knew this might be harder than pulling animals out and adding clothes. The instructions did tell me that at the end of the rinse cycle, I had 2 options: #1: (and this is a quote) Take your clothes out dripping wet, or, #2 Push the button to begin the spin cycle. I decided to not use option #1 - ever. I guessed at the cycle I wanted by looking at 12 little pictures of clothes, towels, blankets and animals. I finally decided on a picture of a cute little shirt because it was closest to the cute little sweatshirt I was about to subject to European water torture. I next guessed at the temperature since the manual didn't cover that tiny detail. (Remember, this is centigrade, not farenheit) I bravely left and went into my bedroom to say the best washing machine prayers I could think of.
Judging by the stop-start of at least 327 cycles, all of which ran at 62 miles an hour, it was a good thing I had prayed. By the time the washer stopped, 2 hours had elapsed. When I removed the unfortunate sweatshirt, I noted that, even with 124 rinse cycles, there was still soap bubbles in the drum. We also had water on the floor and I was pretty sure it was all suppose to stay in the machine. It was decided that we needed to call our rental manager for some expert Netherlandish advise. He came to our apartment, assessed the situation and told us that, yes indeed, this was not acceptable behavior for a European washing machine, even when operated by an American. The repairman comes on Monday. The spaghetti sauce is still sitting proudly on the sleeve, a memento of our trip to Eindhoven. One less souvenir to buy.
Fraulein Becky
The second evening in our flat included a lovely dinner of spaghetti covered in a very anemic tomato sauce which Katie promptly dragged her white sweatshirt sleeve through. Judging by the sauce's bland taste, this was possibly done to give it more flavor. After dinner, I decided to test out my foreign appliance skills by using the Dutch washer. I thought it would be a good idea to test the machine by washing the sweatshirt by itself. This turned out to be a good idea since the drum was only big enough to hold 3 socks so washing a sweatshirt pushed this poor washer to its absolute capacity - think stuffing the gun powder down the neck of the cannon. Wanting to increase my chances of success, I thought it wise to read the manual which luckily had a section in English. (My Dutch so far is a little sketchy) The instructions started with "Loading the Machine" - a good place to start. It explained in detail how to open the door which was about the size of a dinner plate (remember tiny capacity). The instructions then said, "put the clothes into the washer, but first make sure there are no pets in the drum." My initial 15 seconds of "Huh?" was then followed by 3 solid minutes of hysterical laughter. Since this helpful hint was included in the instructions, I figured this must give washer users some options when Fido or Fluffy are found lounging in a cold metal drum. #1: Pull the animal out. #2 Add clothes and begin the wash cycle to teach the pet a lesson. #3 Choose the extra long spin cycle since we never liked that cat anyway.
The next step was figuring out how to select a wash cycle. I knew this might be harder than pulling animals out and adding clothes. The instructions did tell me that at the end of the rinse cycle, I had 2 options: #1: (and this is a quote) Take your clothes out dripping wet, or, #2 Push the button to begin the spin cycle. I decided to not use option #1 - ever. I guessed at the cycle I wanted by looking at 12 little pictures of clothes, towels, blankets and animals. I finally decided on a picture of a cute little shirt because it was closest to the cute little sweatshirt I was about to subject to European water torture. I next guessed at the temperature since the manual didn't cover that tiny detail. (Remember, this is centigrade, not farenheit) I bravely left and went into my bedroom to say the best washing machine prayers I could think of.
Judging by the stop-start of at least 327 cycles, all of which ran at 62 miles an hour, it was a good thing I had prayed. By the time the washer stopped, 2 hours had elapsed. When I removed the unfortunate sweatshirt, I noted that, even with 124 rinse cycles, there was still soap bubbles in the drum. We also had water on the floor and I was pretty sure it was all suppose to stay in the machine. It was decided that we needed to call our rental manager for some expert Netherlandish advise. He came to our apartment, assessed the situation and told us that, yes indeed, this was not acceptable behavior for a European washing machine, even when operated by an American. The repairman comes on Monday. The spaghetti sauce is still sitting proudly on the sleeve, a memento of our trip to Eindhoven. One less souvenir to buy.
Fraulein Becky
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Why Cant the Whole World Speak English?
...This is a question I've asked myself a couple times since we've gotten here (about noon yesterday). I think I have it down to a science though! If you can say "scht-" "-ijst" "-aggen" and produce phlem every other word, you've pretty much summed up the language! Thank you for all your thoughts and prayers! We made it!
Getting used to the time schedule change has been fairly easy, so we have that down. Alex, a guy who worked at the rental office, gave us a grand tour of our nice 3-story flat. But don't let the whole "3-story" thing trick you. The place isn't small, but it's not huge either. And, it's not easy having only one full bathroom! On top of that, all the European appliance handbooks are in Dutch! I know I was thinking that since English is the second language, more things would be in English. Looks like I was wrong. Despite minor complications, we're pretty happy with everything though, but we're still figuring things out.
It's been interesting getting acclamated! Having come here with a box of oreos and some cheesey crackers, we figured we should probably go grocery shopping. We went to "one of the biggest grocery stores in town!" It was half the size of a Walgreens... But hey, this is Europe. We then went to eat at a fancy-schmancy Chinese restaurant- very European, I know. When we came back, we did some housekeeping, and went to bed. It'd been a long day.
Today we walked to TU/e (Technology University, Eindhoven), and saw my dad's new office. Thankfully, the flat is near the City Centrum (center) and the university itself.
Katie and I are working hard to catch up with school. It's been rough, but we should be caught up by Monday. I also skyped my first class today. It went well!
Thanks again for all the prayers, keep them coming!
Getting used to the time schedule change has been fairly easy, so we have that down. Alex, a guy who worked at the rental office, gave us a grand tour of our nice 3-story flat. But don't let the whole "3-story" thing trick you. The place isn't small, but it's not huge either. And, it's not easy having only one full bathroom! On top of that, all the European appliance handbooks are in Dutch! I know I was thinking that since English is the second language, more things would be in English. Looks like I was wrong. Despite minor complications, we're pretty happy with everything though, but we're still figuring things out.
It's been interesting getting acclamated! Having come here with a box of oreos and some cheesey crackers, we figured we should probably go grocery shopping. We went to "one of the biggest grocery stores in town!" It was half the size of a Walgreens... But hey, this is Europe. We then went to eat at a fancy-schmancy Chinese restaurant- very European, I know. When we came back, we did some housekeeping, and went to bed. It'd been a long day.
Today we walked to TU/e (Technology University, Eindhoven), and saw my dad's new office. Thankfully, the flat is near the City Centrum (center) and the university itself.
Katie and I are working hard to catch up with school. It's been rough, but we should be caught up by Monday. I also skyped my first class today. It went well!
Thanks again for all the prayers, keep them coming!
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