Holiday on Saturday

I was not going to blog today for the plain and simple reason I did not know what to blog about. On the other hand, I am never really at a loss for words so decided to blog about nothing special. First of all here is a photo I took on Thursday.

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Nothing special really - a photo of my garden after the first snowfall this year that arrived during the night. Generally we have the first snow towards the end of November, but this year it came early. If you look carefully you can even see the apples left on my apple tree. I had so many this year I decided to fetch them from the tree when we were running out indoors. I brought the rest in today and they were luckily in perfect condition.

We were actually lucky where I live as by midday on Thursday most of the snow had gone, although there were some bits and pieces left in the grass. There was another picture in the East of Switzerland. Zürich and the areas surrounding were heavily hit. The traffic on the roads came to a standstill, most of the trains were not running and they had a few problems at the airport.

Since Thursday there have been no more snowfalls, at least at our height (500 kilometers above sea level), but up in the mountains they have had so much that most of the alpine pass roads are still closed.

Although today is Saturday all the shops were closed in my area. We live in a catholic Kanton and All Saints day is celebrated. The Swiss are very down to earth. If it is a Saturday, then it is a Saturday and everything is closed. However, our Kanton is shaped in a way that no-one is really that far from the next Swiss Reform Church Kanton, so you can always do your shopping there. Of course we made an extra effort on Friday to get ourselves covered with food and drink for a complete week-end, but my Swiss hubby went to the Kanton of Bern this morning (just 15 minutes away) and bought a couple of things we needed. So what do we do on All Saints day. Well generally it is the day of cemetery visits. Most people go and visit the departed. We decided to stay at home. We have a few departed, but we visit them from time to time now and again without having an All Saints day to do it on. I usually visit them with my camera, you can always take a few interesting photos at a cemetery visit.

I did have intentions of cleaning up the garden a bit, but found that it was quite cold outside so kept my cleaning up to a minimum and decided that as I have a weeks full holiday next week, I would have time. At the moment we are a bit home bound. Our car started dying last week. He is still alive and we can take him for a drive, but have orders not on the motorway. One of the wheels is not as round as it should be and speed is not the remedy for healing chances. In any case, his days are numbered, and we only have it until the end of next week. We will be getting another car and then it will be ready.

I am not happy about this. It took me about two years to really find out how our present car works and now I have to start all over again. I am glad to say the new arrival is an automatic as I do not think I would come to grips with a clutch and changing gears on a car any more.

After having blogged about nothing in particular I will now come to a close. I have a little pile of ironing to do - no problem I know how that works. And here a photo from snowy Solothurn. My husband picked me up in town after I had got there by bus. He had the car again so while I was waiting I took a couple of photos.

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A Halloween Poem

It was the night of Halloween
A night so cold and dark
Pickwick the cat was alone in his lair
Beneath a tree in the park

He had seen many ghosts come and go
He had no longer fear
He was tired and just wanted to rest
And then a meow he did hear

Oh help me please, I am so cold
I feel so hungry and alone
My mother died two days ago
Please let me have a home

Pickwick wondered what this voice could be
It sounded so lost and sad
He dragged himself outside to see
It could not be so bad

His eyes were weak with age and then
He was so deeply smitten
Before his tree there was a shape
It looked just like a kitten

Oh help me please on this dark night
I have nowhere to go
Please give me warmth and perhaps some food
Then Pickwick spoke so slow

I am so old my little cat
My years are nearly gone
but you are welcome in my home

It is only a small salon

The time had come for the ghosts to appear

From places and years gone bye
a special ghost was looking down
for Pickwick must not die

Then laughter suddenly filled the air
The children wanted to eat
They were knocking at the doors in town
And asking trick or treat

As Julie passed by Pickwick’s tree
she looked down and saw the cat
She saw the kitten and felt so sad
As both were not so fat

She called her friends to come and see
the cats hungry and alone
They need some warmth and food to eat
I will take them to my home

So Julie took them both along
and forgot the trick or treat
She wanted that the cats were fed
And gave them food to eat

The spirit of a mother cat
Watched on this Halloween night
She was so happy and could now rest
Her kitten no longer had fright

And so it came to pass this night
that Pickwick and the kitten were found
And Julie had now two cats
who were fed and grew quite round

So if you ever take a walk
On the evening of Halloween
Then think of all the lonely cats
That are waiting to be seen

The spirits of cats long gone
will be hoping for a treat
That the lonely cats will be found
and given food to eat

Wisp

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MULTIPLY Creative Challenge #25: Something in a foreign language

This is a photo of our main railway station belonging to the town of Solothurn in Switzerland. Railway Stations are really places where you need a few foreign languages. Peoples from all over seem to meet at railway stations. When I saw the idea on this challenge I realised that I am just a bit restricted with one word or phrase. My whole life from the age of 20 has been compiled from a mixture of foreign words, but let us go to the beginning.

I was born and brought up in England with English speaking parents, so you develop a mother tongue, in my case English. I must add being a citizen of London the English we spoke was not exactly Oxford English, but something called cockney, restricted to the inhabitants of the East End part of London. I quickly learned that a road was not a road, but a "frog and toad". The stairs were known as the "apples and pears" and having a "decker at the black and white" was reading a newspaper based on the rhyming slang we have and other strange words. Up to now everything under control, after all it is english, but a bit of a twisted english. I would add that the letter "h" does not exist in cockney, for instance the word "happy" would be pronounced "appy", but we are still in England and I did have a mother tongue.

Things do not always turn out as we want and in my case they did and did not. At the age of twenty I sort of emigrated to Switzerland. I wanted to work and live abroad and learn the languages. Armed with school knowledge of French and German as well as a little bit of Italian (actually a bit more Italian as I did meet a couple of Italians in various London dance halls) I arrived one day in Winter in the town of Zürich where I lived for two years.

And now we get down to the foreign bits of the language. I learned that the German word for "no" was "nein". I think most people have that as a basic German word, but in Switzerland "nein" becomes something like "Nei" so that was the beginning of learning foreign languges. I was a few weeks in Zürich and was listening to a conversation in the tram between two Swiss. Every sentence seemed to end with the words "nit wahr" (isn't it) or "oder?" (or?). I found this strange that the Swiss always seemed to need a confirmation from the other person of what they said. They did not wait for the confirmation but just carried on. I then discovered that what the Swiss speak as the German language is not the German language as the Germans know it, but a dialect, only really to be understood in Switzerland. I then found out that nearly every area in Switzerland has their own dialect. This does not mean that the Swiss do not understand each other, they do because they understand each other's dialect, and in this connection know which part of Switzerland the others come from. I would add that at school the children are encouraged to speak "high" German, the sort of German spoken in Germany, otherwise no-one in the world would know what they were talking about if they could only speak their dialect.

As I said I spent two years learning the way things worked in the Swiss German language in Zürich. I then moved on to the area where I now live called Solothurn and have been here now forty years. The people in Solothurn speak their own dialect which is again different to that from Zürich. In comparison it seems the people here speak a lot slower than those from Zürich.

French is also spoken in a good third of Switzerland, even a bit more so French has got itself mixed in a bit with the Swiss German. The word for thank you in German is "Danke", but the Swiss tend more to use the word "Merci" which shows the French influence. We then also get the combination of "Merci viou mau" which is Swiss German for the German expression "Danke vielmal" which actually means "Thank you very much".

So the Swiss German language has been infiltrated by the French, but there are also a few Italian words around. You can say goodbye in many ways, but the Swiss Germans tend to say "adieu" from the french, or "ciao" borrowing the italian word for hello and goodbye.

My own situation has resulted in the fact that I have no mother tongue any more really. It is supposed to be english, but I speak swiss german with my husband and children. My husband and sons can speak English but they seem to keep that when I have a visitor from England. With me they speak Swiss German. I work as an export clerk having contact with people all over the world. I speak French to the french on the telephone, Italian with the italians and english with the rest. Through my fascination for foreign languages I did learn Russian for twelve years, but am out of practice. Did you know that the word "bistro" for a coffee bar comes from the Russian word for "quick"? I didn't either until I started learning Russian.

We have a town 25 kilometers down the road to my town called Biel. But no, not really, it is called Bienne. So ok, it is called Biel and/or Bienne. This is because it lays near to the language border meaning that 60% of the people living their speak German as their natural language and the other 40% speak French. Even the street names are in two languages.

I will now come to an end as I could rave on about the different languages in my life for pages and pages. I just don't have a mother tongue any more, in my head there is a mixture of everything. Just don't ask me how I dream, I have to translate my dreams myself to know what they are about.

As a last photo, here is the main station of Bern, the capital town of Switzerland (they speak a very nice homely Swiss German - it somehow has its own rhythm).

Creative Challenge #25: Something in a foreign language

The Shape of Things to Come

Well not quite but almost - I mean the snow. The weather forecast on the Swiss television is always live from the roof of the television studios. This evening the meteorogist was standing on the roof with an umbrella to protect herself from the snowfall. In the background a view over the town of Zürich with its snow covered roofs. Here is the prognosis for tomorrow.

I live in the bit just above where Bern, our capital town, is marked. We are about 40 kilometers to the North of Bern. We lay at the foot of the Jura mountains and they go up to 1,200 meters above sea level. Our village lays about 500 meters above sea level and the prediction for tomorrow is 800 meters above sea level, so it looks like we are saved at the moment. It is getting colder. They have already closed about six roads going through the alps, amongst them the Gotthard which is our connection to the Italian part of Switzerland. Now everyone has to go through the tunnels, so let us hope there are no accidents which tend to block the tunnels.

I was looking through some photos of last year and found this one, but I sincerely hope that it will be some time before this happens. This is the train crossing just round the corner from where I live and the one I have to cross to get into the main road.

It will be a bit different this year in the snow for me. I hate driving on the stuff, even if we are equipped with winter tyres. Our car died today. He did it painlessly but with some doubtful noise which means a very expensive repair job. We have had him many years and decided the time has come for him to be replaced. At the moment we have no car, so I am back to riding on busses and going by foot. What fun, especially when you have heavy shopping to carry. Luckily I have a holiday from work so can take it easy. This week end all the shops in our local town are closed on Saturday for All Souls Day which means a double lot of shopping to get on Friday.

The next car is already in our future programme. I will send a few pictures when we have adopted him, but at the moment he is with his foster parents in the garage.

There is not much to report from Switzerland at the moment. Our banks are still working and today the financial market seems to be quite positive, the SMI being up. What the SMI is I don't know but Mr. Swiss is always sad when it is down, so it must be something important for the Swiss. A sort of a Swiss Wall Street I suppose. I saw that the Hungarian economy has taken a turn for the worse, but they are being supported by the government. It's a funny world.

Via Facebook I found that my son is flying to Reykjavik today and will be staying there until Friday (that's in Iceland). I do not know what he is doing there, but I hope he has a nice time. He is always going somewhere, but so long as a facebook exists and mummy also belongs I can always keep track on him.

And that is the news from Switzerland for today. Here is another photo from where I live last year, again showing the shape of things to come. I will be glad when it is Spring again.

MULTIPLY Pictures to Words - Segments: Week 1: The Jungle

Michael pointed the rifle at Grant.
“Michael what are you doing, be careful.” Grant said
“I am being careful, I am doing what I intended to do for some time. You are the great animal hunter, I am always in your shadow and now the time has come for me to take over.”
“Don’t be so stupid Michael. If you shoot me, the truth will soon be discovered.”
“Grant, we are deep in the Indian jungle, there is no-one here except for us. If I kill you now your body will not be found and another great animal expert will be missing on an expedition. Take your last look at the world” and Michael shot Grant through the heart. He pulled his body to one side and buried it under some branches and dead vegetation. He knew that it would be a quick job for some sort of animal to dispose of his body. Michael could now take over the work that Grant had started.

Monica arrived at the landing strip somewhere in the middle of the Indian jungle. It was a hot and humid atmosphere that welcomed her and she was glad that she had her safari outfit on. Michael met her on her arrival.
“Did everything go well Michael? There were no suspicions?”
“Don’t worry Monica, I managed to do the necessary in a place where no-one would find him.”
“That’s fine, and now I will play the role of the grieving wife whose husband disappeared somewhere in the jungles of India. We just have to find where he keeps his collection of white tigers. After all that is what it is about.”
“You are right Monica, think of the money that will be paid for a fur coat from a white tiger. We will be rich.”
“One thing after the other Michael. We don’t want people to notice that we are together. I will now be the wife who is looking for her great white explorer of a husband that disappeared on one of his jungle excursions and you will stay near me comforting and helping where you can. After a few months when it is obvious that Grant will not return we can appear as a pair and go on a few hunting expeditions in the part of the jungle where Grant seemed to keep his white tigers. How anyone could use them just for filming purposes, I do not know. There is so much more money to be made with their fur.”

Michael then put his arm around Monica and she pretended to shed a few tears in her handkerchief, after all there were some Indian helpers standing around and they did not want to raise any suspicion.

Monica and Michael spent the night in the camp at the edge of the jungle. As soon as the darkness of the night was upon them Michael sneaked over to Monica’s tent and comforted her on her loss. Luckily no-one noticed, otherwise it would have seemed strange to see them both opening a bottle of champagne and toasting to Grant’s death.

The next morning they decided to form a search troop looking for Grant. The Indian helpers willingly came as they treasured the way Grant had treated them and looked after them. Michael was even dependent on their help as he was not so sure where in the jungle the white tigers could be found. He knew that Grant had kept them in a secret place, worrying about their safety if they were discovered. Rare animals were always in danger and Grant was just interested in filming them for the television, and not exploiting them for their fur. He was of the opinion that there had been too many wrongs done to the jungle animals. He had seen enough elephants killed, just for the removal of their ivory tusks; although this did not bother Michael in the least. He now had what he wanted.

Michael already had Grant’s wife, although she could become a problem. At the moment she was serving her purpose, but Monica enjoyed being the centre point. Although she was glad that her explorer husband was now in another world, Michael knew that it would be a matter of time before she wanted more and she might even start talking if things got awkward. No, all that Michael wanted was the white tigers; a rare race of tigers caused by a fluke of nature.

Michael made off into the jungle, with Monica at his side and the Indian team walking behind. They were soon approaching the place where Michael had killed Grant and he decided it was now that he would tell the Indians to take a rest and he would go further with Monica. It was hot and sticky in the jungle and the Indian helpers were glad for a break. Monica and Michael walked on further. They soon arrived at the place where Grant was buried under the vegetation.
“Is he here?” asked Monica
“Just a bit further, under those leaves” answered Michael.
“I don’t see anything” Monica said.
“That cannot be, I only killed him a few days ago and the animals do not deal with a dead body so quickly.”
It was then that both Monica and Michael felt a sting in their arm and as they turned to see what had happened, the world drifted away and they were sleeping.

Some time later they both woke up.
“Where am I, what has happened” Monica was still feeling groggy and tired.
Michael just groaned – his arm was still hurting. He looked around but saw just earth in front, at the side and behind him. They were both in a hole in the ground. It was then that Michael heard a familiar laugh.

“So how do you feel now” said a voice they knew. Looking up they saw the suntanned face of Grant looking down on them. “Did you two really think I was such an idiot that I did not realise what was happening. I have been watching you both for some time. The way Monica’s eyes were following you Michael, every time you were near. The questions you were asking; where I kept the white tigers. Well now you can have the answer, and a circle of white snarling tigers surrounded the entrance to their earth prison.

“I killed you Grant. I am sure I killed you.” Michael turned a shade of white “It can’t be your ghost I am talking to.”
“Don’t worry Michael, I am not a ghost, but flesh and blood and completely alive. Over the past few weeks I had been building a camp all of my own in this part of the jungle, ready for my demise. I had started to wear a bullet-proof waistcoat under my shirt knowing that one day I would either be shot or stabbed in the back by my faithful assistant. I was not killed, just closed my eyes at the right moment Michael and the blood you saw was taken from one of our meals in the camp, before it had been roasted on an open fire. You are so stupid Michael.”
A scream suddenly interrupted the conversation. Monica was now wide awake and saw the tigers looking down on her, as well as her believed dead husband.
“Grant, please, don’t be so stupid. You won’t get away with this. People will come looking for us.”
“Don’t worry, Monica. You will be found, but all in good time. For the time being you and your boyfriend Michael can spend a few days down in your earth prison. My tigers will keep an eye on you in case one of you decides to escape. It was very easy to get you both under my control. I also used a rifle, but the ammunition was a drug I use on the animals to stun them when I want to capture them to give them a mark. Now and again I will throw some food down to make sure you stay alive until I decide eventually what to do with you.”

In the meanwhile the Indians helpers were becoming restless. It was some time since Michael and Monica had disappeared into the jungle and night was falling. They were too frightened to go further into the jungle at night, so they returned to the camp where they reported that their leaders had disappeared.

Grant left his two captives on their own for the night as he knew they would not dare to try to escape with his collection of tigers looking down on them and he had his tigers completely under control. He had lived with them for some time and they had learned to trust Grant. Grant sometimes felt he would probably be a great success in a circus with them as they obeyed his every command. The next morning he looked in upon his “guests” and found they were suffering, which was what Grant wanted. He thought of the way his wife had treated him, playing the faithful lady, but all the time cheating on him and making plans behind his back. Michael also now got what he deserved. Wanting to kill his tigers, just for the sake of their fur was in Grant’s eyes the worse that could happen to them. Such wonderful creatures deserved a better fate than to end as a fur coat in a rich lady’s wardrobe. Grant knew that Michael had contact with certain dubious business men that would be only to glad to pay thousands to get their hands on such a rare piece.

Grant kept his prisoners for a week in their earth dungeon. He was relentless and he did not care how much they pleaded. They were both a sorry sight after a week, but that was what Grant wanted. He knew no mercy. One morning he looked down into their prison and what he saw pleased him very much.

“How are you both feeling” he asked but as an answer came no words, just a stifled sound from them both. He though Monica was trying to cry but even her tears had now dried up, and Michael was just laying there, as a limp mass, not even trying to move or to speak.”

Now the time had come to complete his revenge. He tore his clothes and smeared himself with dirt. He made a few harmless cuts with his knife on his body and limbs. Although they hurt, they did not hurt as much as Michael and Monica had hurt him. He ordered the tigers to go back from the hole in the ground and let himself into the earth prison by using a rope. He then put the rope around his two prisoners and drew them out of the hole one after the other. He then returned to the camp, dragging Monica behind him. The men were pleased to see him again, but were shocked when they saw Monica. He told the men that Michael was also in the jungle and where they could find him. The tigers watched silently behind the trees as the Indian troop took Michael back to the camp.

They were glad that all were back safely, but perhaps not so safe. Grant quickly recovered, but Michael and Monica had more problems. Yes, their hair had turned white during the week as prisoners being watched by the white tigers and Michael had got a “white” phobia. For the rest of his life, in the mental home where he spent his remaining days, he refused to wear anything white and as soon as a doctor approached him he had to be drugged. He just could not stand seeing them in their white overalls. And Monica – well Grant decided to be nice to her. Grant became a doting husband and although his wife was now confined to a wheelchair, he would often be seen going for walks with her when he was at home, although most of the time he spent in the Indian jungle with his beloved white tigers.

His film was a large success and he was always on the invitation list as a speaker at the world wild life fund dinners.

Pictures to Words - Segments: Week 1