The Blogette of Dr. D

I’ve always wished to be a more creative  person.  I can think of a hundred ways to adapt an idea, but the idea is nearly always someone else’s brainchild.  It always amazes me what a creative mind can think of, especially when I see art or listen to music.

Today, one of my Facebook friends posted a video of some unique sculptures.  I only check Facebook occasionally, so I suppose it’s making the rounds, but it was new to me.  My favorite of these amazing sculptures was the lady holding onto the world as she blows away from it.

I went online to see what I could find out about the sculptures and quickly found that there are several websites related to the topic.  Each has a few different sculptures in its gallery.  I especially like the “Mustangs” in Texas, . . .

. . . the kids jumping into the river in Singapore, . . .

. . . the “Break Through” people in Philadelphia, . . .

. . . and the tripping man in Brussels.

Last summer, Ted and I saw the “Shoes on the Danube” sculpture in Budapest . . .

. . . and “A Man at Work”  in Bratislava.

We’re surprised we didn’t see the “Unknown Official” in Reykjavik earlier this month.  It’s a small city and we had a pretty extensive two-day tour.  Maybe next time.

Yes, we had adventures from the first day to the last day of our vacation.  We chose to keep a positive attitude and to call the events “adventures” instead of asking “What else can go wrong?”

The first leg of our journey was our flight from St. Louis to Atlanta (June 27).  It’s summer, so afternoon thunderstorms are not unusual.  Tennessee, northern Mississippi, and Alabama were getting hit hard, so we had to fly due south along the Mississippi River until we passed the storms, then turn east to reach Atlanta instead of taking the diagonal.  This added 30-40 minutes to our flight time, but we had no problem catching our connecting flight to London.

Paris was a very “adventurous” city for us.  On Bastille Day (July 14), security was so tight that we needed a police escort to return to our hotel.   Twice we had to wait on the sidewalk before continuing on our sightseeing way.  One time we had the “opportunity” to observe a march for racial equality in Paris; the other time we watched hundreds of Scandinavian bicyclists pass and exchanged conjectures about the riders with other bystanders (July 16).  Then there was the scary cab ride from our hotel to Charles DeGaulle Airport (July 17).  As we were in the process of checking in at the airport, we were informed that we had to evacuate that area of the terminal.  Someone had left untended luggage in the area.  No bombs exploded.

When we arrived in Stockholm (July 17), we went to our pick-up point and discovered our name was not on the transfer list to be taken to the ship.  They took us anyway and said everything could be straightened out after we were onboard.  No problem–our documents proved our name should have been included.  The same thing happened when we were arranging the shuttle pickup from Bergen to Reykjavik.  We showed our documents again and all worked out well.  An adventure, not a calamity, right?

When we were in St. Petersburg, we temporarily lost our tour group in the morning of the first day (July 20).  At the end of the second day (July 21), high winds delayed our hydrofoil boarding and our return to the ship.  The result was a late departure from the port, but the ship waited for all of us.  No big deal, right?

We had another late departure from Berlin (July 25) because the train arrived late and all but eleven passengers from the ship were onboard the train for the various excursions of the day.  The “welcome back” event when we finally arrived at the ship was so heartwarming, it might nullify the “adventure” status of the late arrival.

In Flåm (July 29), we were unable to take our much-anticipated “Norway in a Nutshell” railway excursion because of mud slides from a storm the previous night.  We saw one of the most beautiful fjords in the world instead.

Flying from Bergen to Stavanger (July 31), I had an attack of claustrophobia in my tiny little personal airplane space.  We changed seats.

When it was time to come home (August 2), Ted’s boarding pass printed very nicely, but mine didn’t.  For some reason, “government regulations” required that I print my boarding pass at the airport.  It printed fine at the airport

After only a few hours of sleep, we were up at 4:30 am for the 5:00 am shuttle to catch our 10:30 am flight home (August 3).  Just before boarding, eleven other passengers and I were informed that we were randomly selected for an additional deep security check.  Our flight was already delayed for two hours, and there was another delay waiting for some passengers.  The cabin doors on the plane were being closed before Ted–and about 100 other passengers–got on.  Everyone was onboard before takeoff–at 1:00 pm.

The fuel pump on our car died on our way home from dinner.  We had it replaced with a new one that works fine.

Everything always turned out well, but it seems to be true that you have to be prepared to go with the flow.  I would do it all again and I know Ted would too–even with the “adventures.”

I’m finally caught up with recording our awesome northern European vacation in this blog, but there are still some thoughts and events I want to remember when I look back on these entries.  (Any regular readers?  Maybe you want to scroll backwards to read the formerly missing entries.)  To any grammar nerds reading my posts, I think I’ve corrected all (most?) of the mistakes I made.  If you found one, go back to see if I caught it.  If it bothers you, let me know and I’ll fix it.  After all, I’m a grammar nerd too.  And maybe a little bit of a perfectionist.  Maybe.

Every time I went to the laundry on the ship (two or three times, but three trips each time–load washer, load dryer, empty dryer), there was at least one man ironing.  I never knew so many men ironed their own clothes.  Ted does, because I hate ironing and, many years ago, he got tired of waiting for me to get around to it.

In downtown London, at least one car in five must be a Prius; in Denmark, Teslas were easy to find on the streets.

It was odd to see kids wearing Mickey Mouse ears in Paris until we remembered there’s a Disneyland in Paris.

On our coach trip in Britain, our tour guide told us that by the time we went home, we’d all qualify for a degree in operating plumbing systems.  She was right!  I had no idea there were so many creative ways to turn on a faucet or to direct the bathtub faucet water to the shower head.

It’s not unusual for men and women to share restrooms (toilets or toilettes) in Europe.  This isn’t as personal as it sounds.  Most restrooms have stall-size “rooms” with walls to the ceiling and the floor, so privacy is complete.  There is usually a male or female icon on the door (I assume the difference is the urinal) and you choose the appropriate one.  Then you wash your hands in a general area with multiple sinks.  In practice, it’s fine, but it felt a little weird for both Ted and me to go into the same area together.  It is also not unusual to have to pay anywhere from 20-70 cents/pence/whatever to use a public toilet.  In England, it cost 20 pence.  Our tour guide described it as “20p to pee.”  We always kept change in our jacket pockets.

Good news:  While we were away, we missed six weeks of election phone calls, six weeks of election advertising, and both political conventions!  Yea!

I’ve never worn a jacket for so many consecutive hours!  We wore at least one jacket nearly every day (only four exceptions) and we had them on all day and all evening because we were outside all the time.  At home, when we put on a jacket, we go somewhere, we come home, and we take it off.  Maybe we put it on again later to go somewhere else, but we don’t wear it all day.

I’ve never set an alarm clock for so many early risings in a row.  We had only one day to sleep late–when we were at sea all day between Talinn and Gdansk.  I have always planned at least one day a week to sleep late and/or a day with fewer activities to give myself a break.  We were up early and busy all day every day.  The good part:  We had no trouble falling asleep at night!

In Britain, we never had a wash cloth in our hotel rooms, but the bath towels were huge!  A bathroom safety fact:  Europe does not allow electrical outlets in bathrooms except for electric shavers which have special prongs to fit the outlet.  I always had to dry my hair in the bedroom.

In Stockholm, two young women crossed against the light in front of our bus.  Our tour guide remarked sotto voce, “You are breaking the law and we have the right to kill you, but you are young and beautiful, so you may cross.”  In a face-off between our bus and a van (the bus won), our Berlin tour guide noted that “We are stronger than a van.”  The traffic lights in the cities turn yellow before they turn red and also before they turn green.  Drivers take green lights very seriously and horns will honk at anything that requires a delayed start or the use of a brake pedal.

A double bed in a European hotel means two twin beds pushed together.  The beds are usually made up separately, but sometimes have a shared blanket.

In Scotland, it’s appropriate to “address the haggis” before eating it.  Robert Burns, a Scottish poet, wrote Address to a Haggis.  The poem is read before the haggis is eaten at formal meals.

There are enough hedgerows in England to circle the equator two-and-a-half times.

Hay bales were wrapped in plastic everywhere we went.  Given the frequency of rain showers, my guess is the plastic keeps the bales from rotting.

In Iceland, there are earthquakes every day.  They are small and not usually noticeable, but the ground is always shaking.

The onion-shaped domes on the Russian palaces and churches are onion-shaped for the simple reason that onion shapes don’t collect snow.  The snow slides off, so its weight does not become a structural problem.

English was spoken nearly everywhere we went, but it wasn’t American English.  Sometimes it was easy to know the “translation”; other times, I had to see/hear it repeatedly to figure it out or ask a native.  Here are some words we heard frequently.

Pop in = drop in (pronounced “pope in”)

Way out (signage) = exit

Give way (highway sign) = yield

Bend (highway sign) = curve in the road

Circus = roundabout

Takeaway = carryout

No overtaking (highway sign) = no passing

Dual carriageway (highway sign) = divided highway

Ring road = beltway

Child minder = babysitter

Towel = sanitary napkin

Semi-skimmed milk = 2% milk

Zebra = a white-striped crosswalk (Russia)

Ted and I are really glad we flew home from Reykjavik on Delta last week instead of this week!  We took off only two-and-a-half hours late.

Even after nearly six full weeks of traveling, neither Ted nor I was eager for our vacation to end.  At the same time, when today arrived, we were ready to go home.  I think that’s the best of both worlds:  we’re still having fun, but we look forward to home.  Too bad it wasn’t quite that easy.

Our shuttle to the airport was arranged yesterday.  Three shuttles were going to serve our group, taking us to the airport according to our flight times:  4:30 am, 7:00 am, and 1:00 pm.  Our flight was at 10:30 am.  Guess which shuttle we were assigned to.  In the end, only one couple had a 7:00 am flight, so they were assigned to a cab and the rest of us were given a 30-minute reprieve and didn’t have to report to the shuttle until 5:00 am for the 45-minute drive to the airport.

We went to the hotel business center to print our boarding passes and the next “adventure” began.  Ted’s boarding pass printed just fine, but mine brought up an error message informing me that “government regulations” required that I print my boarding pass at the airport.  Fine, we’d have plenty of time to do that before our 10:30 am flight.  Then, around midnight, we had an email from Delta announcing that our flight would be delayed an hour and fifteen minutes.  At 7:00 am another email arrived to tell us the flight would be delayed an additional hour.  Of course, these were useless communications to us since the shuttles were already set up and we were at the airport by 5:45 am after only a few hours of sleep.

Ok, we’re at the airport, drinking coffee and hot chocolate with a sweet roll (no breakfast at the hotel before 6:00 am) and basically killing time with our new friends, Jim and Jory from North Carolina.  They were on the same flight as Ted and me.  Jory had to print her boarding pass at the airport too, but all was going well.  As we neared our now 12:30 pm departure time, we headed for the gate.  We would have gone sooner, but we couldn’t get near the gate until one hour before our flight.  Security or something.

Fine, we were waiting to go to the rest room for the last time before we boarded when the gatekeeper came on the PA and announced a dozen names of people who were to report to the check-in desk.  Jory’s name and mine were included.  All twelve of us were mystified.  We were told to bring our carry-on luggage and to surrender our passports to the gatekeeper.  Then we were taken through the airport and on an elevator to a secret (to us, at least) room where we saw a sign that explained what was going on.

We are apparently security risks to the U.S. government and the TSA.

In pairs of men or women, we were taken into an adjoining room for an additional pat-down and our luggage, purses, etc. were opened and the contents carefully examined.  When all twelve of us passed inspection, we were taken back upstairs to the gate area and told we could go to the head of the line for boarding.  Our passports were returned and we moved along.

Reykjavik is a small airport and does not have jetways–you have to climb stairs to get into the plane.  The larger international planes, however, are parked farther from the terminal, so we had to take a shuttle to get to the stairway to get on the plane.  I waved at Ted and Jory waved at Jim (they were standing in line as we were leaving to board the plane) and I gave Ted a thumbs-up so he wouldn’t worry (much).  When we tallied things up afterward, Ted had been through five security checks between arriving at the airport and boarding the plane (showing his passport, answering security questions, and getting his luggage scanned) and I had been through six.  I thought TSA in the U.S. was bad, but Reykjavik takes security very seriously.

The first-in-line priority for those of us who were super secure ended when we boarded the shuttle.  At that point, it was everyone for him/herself.  It took us twenty minutes after arriving at the plane to actually get up the stairs and into our seats.  Since the extra security check and the boarding process had taken most of the hour Jory and I had planned to wait in the boarding area, allowing no time for a restroom stop, I used the restroom on the plane.  As I was returning to my seat, I heard an announcement telling the crew to prepare the cabin for takeoff and to lock the cabin doors.  My first thought was “Ted isn’t here!”

I spoke with one of the stewardesses and she used her phone to call another stewardess who had apparently heard the same thing from other passengers.  After a quick check, another announcement told the crew to leave the front cabin door unlocked.  It was probably at least 20-30 minutes before the second shuttle load of passengers (half of the passengers on the flight, including Ted) arrived at the plane.  Ted said they spent at least 15 minutes at the gate waiting for four passengers.  Maybe those passengers were on a delayed flight like ours and it was easier to wait for them to make the connection than to put them on another flight.  Anyway, by the time the passengers from Shuttle No. 2 were finally seated (with only one door open to enter the plane instead of two), the plane was full instead of half-full.  Our 10:30 am flight took off at about 1:00 pm.  Delta:  Don’t Expect to Leave The Airport.

Question:  Don’t you think the crew would know before take-off how many passengers are expected on the flight?  Did they not notice that half the seats on a fully booked flight were still empty when they received the order to prepare for take-off?

As it turned out, our seats were directly behind Jory’s and Jim’s, so we could exchange comments during the flight to Minneapolis and, when we arrived, the four of us went through customs together.  This time we were able to head for the “U.S. Residents” line and I heard my favorite words from the customs officer:  “Welcome home.”

Luckily, we had a three-hour layover in Minneapolis so, even with our delays, we still managed to be on time (just) for our flight to St. Louis.  Kari and Teddy were at the airport to take us home, and the vacation was over.  The adventures, however, were not.

We got home from the airport around 3:30 pm, having been awake since the equivalent of 11:00 pm the previous evening with nothing to eat except the sweet roll at the airport and lunch on the plane hours ago.  We were hungry, so we went out to dinner and were eating pizza (six weeks without pizza!) by 4:30 pm.

Our plan was to go directly home without passing “Go” and go to bed, but that didn’t work out too well.  We got within a half mile of the house and the car died.  We walked home to wait for the tow truck and, two hours later, it arrived.  After that, we went to bed and slept twelve hours.  No early wake-up call in the morning, no sightseeing scheduled.  The vacation was fun, and it’s good to be home.

Many thanks to Kari, who stocked some essentials in the refrigerator so we didn’t need to make an immediate grocery run.

Ed. note:  The fuel pump on the car died.  The new one is working fine.