Category: Travel

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I received yet another email alert from the Consulate General from which I quote certain relevant parts.

The State Department alerts U.S. citizens to possible risks of travel due to increased terrorist threats. Current information suggests that ISIL (aka Da'esh), al-Qa'ida, Boko Haram, and other terrorist groups continue to plan terrorist attacks in multiple regions. These attacks may employ a wide variety of tactics, using conventional and non-conventional weapons and targeting both official and private interests. This Travel Alert expires on February 24, 2016.

Authorities believe the likelihood of terror attacks will continue as members of ISIL/Da'esh return from Syria and Iraq. Additionally, there is a continuing threat from unaffiliated persons planning attacks inspired by major terrorist organizations but conducted on an individual basis. Extremists have targeted large sporting events, theatres, open markets, and aviation services. In the past year, there have been multiple attacks in France, Nigeria, Denmark, Turkey, and Mali. ISIL/Da'esh has claimed responsibility for the bombing of a Russian airliner in Egypt.

U.S. citizens should exercise vigilance when in public places or using transportation. Be aware of immediate surroundings and avoid large crowds or crowed places. Exercise particular caution during the holiday season and at holiday festivals or events. U.S. citizens should monitor media and local information sources and factor updated information into personal travel plans and activities. Persons with specific safety concerns should contact local law enforcement authorities who are responsible for the safety and security of all visitors to their host country.

I do not think that even the most effective form of diligence is any good against a group of crazy folks carrying AK-47s and bomb vests.

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Commuting by train every morning used to be a social activity among fellow travelers who were cordial and polite. The early chit-chat of spontaneous conversation filled the air, variegated voices and motions creating a peaceful background for the high speed swoosh of the train's movement along the rails. Not uncommon was the occasional smile, a glancing stare, meeting eyes and a polite gesture of anticipation and offering.

Nowadays just sit together in a quiet bubble of unawareness completely isolated from the real world. Whatever that may be. People sit hunch-backed in their seats staring at smartphones, glued to the colorful movements on tiny displays. There is no conversation, limited gestures and pure silence. Swiping hands cannot get enough and fingers typing away erratically produce slivers of meaningless. No one looks up, not a soul.

For the older generation of passengers who have happy memories of the good old days of the old-fashioned commute, an eerie emptiness fills the train carriage. All those young folks and their lost souls. Even an accidental bump will not displace glaring eyes, for that other hidden world is too addictive.

No excuse me, no sorry eyes, just aggravation as if every single second glued to the device will never be enough.

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What are the odds of being able to capture this historical moment on film? That's the equivalent of having driven my car more than three and a half times around the world. Funny how after all that time I seem to keep ending up at the very same place.

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Terraces in back of the hotel with view.

We had a truly wonderful time in Tuscany where we spent the week having a fun and relaxing break away from the chaotic world. The week passed by quickly, but we were able to experience the surroundings intensely as well as balancing activities with a sound spiritual peace, for example long reads and/or naps in the terrace gardens behind the hotel.

The climate was agreeable and the food was excellent. We stayed at the Hotel Bellavista in a small village called San Baronto. It was located way up in the hills with an awe-inspiring view of the valley below, about a one hour drive north of Florence.

Our host was Giuseppe and he was a cordial person, always positive. He did his best to spoil us with various tasty pasta dishes and a healthy sense of humor.

We rented a putt-putt car. Like typical wild Italian drivers, we sped across the countryside, zipping around steep mountain curves, zig-zagging through the complex labyrinths of medieval city centers, and seeing amongst other places: Florence, Lucca, Pisa, Viareggio, Prato, Vinci (birthplace of Leonardo da Vinci), etc.

Have a look at the photo album to get a better appreciation of our stay.

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There I was driving back home after a fulfilling round of golf, minding my own business and rethinking the various golf shots and how I might have played better, when all of a sudden this loud explosion abruptly woke me up from my reverie.

I thought: what the heck did that car just crash into me?! In my rear view mirror I saw a white vehicle brake slightly and slow down a bit. It had all happened in a split second as our two vehicles passed each other on a narrow bridge.

I pulled over to the side of the rode and got out to inspect the damage. I assumed that the other driver would turn around and come back. Instead the white vehicle sped off into the distance and disappeared around a bend in the road.

A quick inspection of the outside of my car revealed that there was no extensive damage, no gashes or scratches, strange I was sure that I heard a loud popping sound like soem kind of explosion of metal splinters.

Turns out that it was only my side view mirror which had bent inwards on the hinges and half of the mirror had broken off. By hinging it had absorbed most of the impact, but had cracked badly.

I was relieved and angry at the same time. I wanted to hop back in my car and speed down the road to catch this guy, maybe even get angry at him, cuss and beat him up. Maybe it was not a guy but a girl. Women drivers!

However, I decided to count my blessings and remain cool, calm and collected. I got back in my car, readjusted the side view mirror, and continued on my way as if nothing had ever happened.

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Driving back home after work, staring directly into the setting sun, moments of thinking about nothing, reflecting on times past, the unknown future, and best of all just plain living in the present. I should get home in just under half an hour if I am lucky.

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Finally made it back to California, the last time being about four years ago. Everything looks pretty much the same as usual. The drive down to Monterey from the airport which normally takes a little less than two hours took four hours because of massive traffic jams in the Bay Area.

Unfortunately, the US authorities would not allow Thea to board the plane, because of some minor anomaly with Thea's passport that Interpol had tagged as suspicious. This was a very traumatic moment, especially since I had to leave her hastily to catch the flight, giving her a quick kiss and emotional hug. Hopefully she can get the situation rectified and join me later next week. Welcome to the land of freedom!

From beginning to end, I travelled a total of five thousand plus miles in nineteen and a half hours. My mom thawed out some frozen raviolli and that was my dinner. Crashed in bed at eight and managed to sleep until five in the morning, whereupon I sat downstairs in the sitting room and read my book. So the jetlag is fairly minimal.

Cannot wait to go out and play some golf, although for the next week they've predicted cloudy weather and occasional rain showers. It's good that I brought four pairs of golfing shorts with me. Also would like to head on over to a couple golf stores and buy lots of fun stuff: fairway woods, flop wedge, golfing caps, towels, ad infinitum.

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I choose to commute to Frankfurt using the ICE high-speed train because of it's comfort and speed, so paying that little bit extra is worth it.

Lately though, I've been plagued by various inconveniences like bad weather, technical problems, evening constructions, and most recently an accident right before Arnhem which blocked all trains for a couple hours.

The worse part is not so much the delays as it is having to transfer trains, from one side of the platform to the other or walking up and down stairs lugging my heavy baggage to the other platform way down to the other side of the station.

Most of the travelers are just like me, carrying tons of luggage and extra bags of goodies and such. You have to lift off your heavy bag from above, squeeze down the isles and hop off of the train in search of the transfer point.

Once there, you have to squeeze back in, a complex traffic jam inside as folks meet and have to pass one another along a thin isle not made for two-way traffic.

The first week I felt exhilarated by the comfort and speed of the ICE train, thinking wow this is great, but not anymore.

I have a simple choice. Expect and accept delays as they arise, grab a book and relax. Or get all upset and tense, making things even worse because of a lousy attitude.

Now whenever I have to pass all of the grumpy fellow travelers, I just smile and hop temporarily on a vacant seat, until the masses have continued there ways and I can search out my reserved seat next to the window.

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On this line, I travel from Utrecht to Frankfurt.

If all goes well, my travel itinerary looks something like this:

  • Home to Gouda Train Station - 10 minutes.
  • Gouda to Utrecht by train - 20 minutes.
  • Wait in Utrecht - 15 minutes.
  • Utrecht to Frankfurt by train - 3 hours 55 minutes.
  • Wait in Frankfurt - 10 minutes.
  • S-Bahn from Frankfurt to Eschborn Sud - 12 minutes.
  • Walk to my apartment - 20 minutes.

Total time from door to door: 5 hours and 37 minutes. Fortunately, my apartment is only a ten minute walk to work, which makes up for all of that traveling.

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Early evening drive in the Frankfurt city center.

I was pleasantly surprised to discover that Frankfurt is a very modern European city. Although the city was severely bombarded during WWII, most of it was rebuilt from nothing, showing the impressive German resolve to achieve great things despite tremendous obstacles.

Today this city is the financial and transportation center of Germany and the largest financial center in continental Europe. It will certainly be an interesting experience working there.

My new apartment is located on the outskirts of the city where I'll be residing weekdays starting this December. It's easy walking distance from my work which is a nice luxury these days, especially in such a busy, populated area.


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In retrospect, the chances of certain events coming together in that specific exact order, and during those specific exact time slots, seems highly unlikely if not impossible. The following chain of events takes place on a crowded train on my way back home from work.

With my left hand I continue to make various movements on the touchpad while at the same time keeping my netbook balanced precariously on my knee. With my other hand, I pick up the Cola bottle with my lower three fingers, and using thumb and forefinger I try to unscrew the cap.

This movement proves a bit too challenging for the anatomy of my hand and its fused metacarpals. At once the plastic cap is screwed off completely loose, and the awkward pressure between thumb and forefinger flicks the cap to the side. It falls to the floor and keeps spinning on its side.

The uncapped bottle is put back down on the narrow mini shelf next to the window. I then bend over, try to reach down and grab the spinning cap which has purposely hidden itself between the other passengers' feet.

At that exact instant, the train comes to an abrupt halt. This jerking motion gives my bending back just the right extra momentum to reach far enough and scoop up the little cap.

At the next instant someone in the adjacent compartment yells, "Did someone just knock over a Cola bottle or what?"

The law of inertia dictated that my uncapped soda-pop bottle should tip over and fall perfectly between the arm rest and the wall. It angles downward slightly so that most of its shaken contents had sloshed out and foamed the poor passenger sitting behind me.

Sorry about that. Oh, it doesn't matter, don't worry about it.

I'm thinking what a mess and see tentacles of amoeba-like protrusions spreading along the floor as the train shifts back and forth. Do I need to clean up the mess? How then, when I don't have anything with me which can absorb it.

Feeling embarrassed, I grab an old newspaper and go about rubbing non-absorbent paper on the liquid. The gesture that I am trying to improve the situation, when in fact I'm making matters much worse, seems to calm down the passengers around me. Though the one guy across from me has this aggravating snicker on his face, though it could be a smile of compassion.

When the train arrived at my destination, I felt very relieved to escape this uncomfortable situation. The soles of my shoes kept sticking to the cement walkway, but after passing through a couple of puddles the stickiness went away.

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Just as in life with its many difficult decisions, when entering the train one must choose between sitting on the right side or on the left side. A correct decision will define the quality of the trip from beginning to end, so it's fairly important that a certain amount of deliberation takes place.

Assuming that there are still enough unoccupied places in the current carriage or in one nearby, the choice is based on a couple of non-trivial though important factors.

The right side of the train. This is the sunny side which is nice if you are seeking some extra warmth on days which are not too overcast, say when the temperature is a bit cooler than usual. There might be a slight glare while looking at the beautiful countryside passing by, especially during the fall and winter when the sun drags its feet a bit lower on the horizon. If reading a book or a newspaper, the extra light makes perusing such literature a more pleasant activity, at least for me where clarity and contrast of black on white is important.

The left side of the train. This is the shadowy side which is better if one is trying to read email on a laptop or on exceptionally warm days when a crowded train carriage can cause one to sweat and huff and puff more than usual. While more pleasurable to sit in the shade during the latest heat wave, most others are thinking the same as you. Meaning that the extra mass of human cytoplasm will tend to collect on this side of the train and make any available seating much more cramped and uncomfortable. Especially if that fat lady who always smiles at you comes and sits next to you again.

The main problem for me is trying to remember which is the right side and which is the left side of the train. In the afternoon, the train travels in the opposite direction as in the morning. So remembering is a bit less obvious than just looking at which side of the tracks you are standing on. The same train might stop several meters further up or even at a different platform. Once inside of the train, searching a while for an unoccupied seat, one becomes confused and disoriented. On hot days vertigo might kick up the dust in your head.

If by chance you are rushed and forget to think about right versus left, then the odds remain fifty-fifty anyway. Just don't think and get on with your life like all of the other normal folks sitting around you.

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This is a little bit creepy, but my early morning train is almost completely empty. Has there been some kind of nuclear holocaust I'm missing out on? Hopefully when I arrive in Amsterdam, there'll be many more kind folks milling about and bumping into me.

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The oriental guy sitting across from me was neatly dressed in his suit and tie, and he had opened up about the largest Gannt Chart I had ever seen.

Right there during rush hour in the middle of the cramped train was this poor soul with a panicked look on his face, unfolding and refolding the large chart this way and that, trying to make sense of the chaos with squinting eyes through thick lenses.

At the same time, he had a ruled notepad precariously balanced on his left knee, scribbling it with various arrows and boxes, despite the bumpy ride and the squeezed bodies around him, which resulted in jagged lines and oval, squiggly boxes.

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On his other knee he had his laptop and a stapled file of technical specifications, which he had to refer to continuously in order to make sure that his Gannt Chart and the scribbles on the notepad and the complex thoughts inside of his head all made sense and matched up perfectly.

No cracks or other inconsistencies to be found, he hoped. His boss was known to be an abrasive character, and he would be demanding one hundred percent accuracy, bombarding him with a long list of difficult and prying questions.

This was definitely not the most conducive surroundings to make last-minute preparations for such an important meeting, indeed one prone to error and mismatches which could put the million dollar project at serious risk.

When the guy packed up and left the train, I wished him luck and thought positively for him. However, he could only afford me a nervous half smile as he disappeared off into the distance on his way to the his own personal fork in the road.

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Some people are capable of sitting completely motionless during the whole train ride and do nothing except stare into the thin air in front of them.

One young man in particular, who commutes the same sixty minute trip as I do, accomplishes this feat quite admirably.

The only major movements he makes are when he enters the train carriage and takes his seat, and then an hour later stands up and exits the train.

Are these people truly thinking beings?

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This is a pretty funny story which happened to me on the train this morning.

Sitting across from me was this guy curled up comfortably next to the window, sleeping and motionless, and having sweet dreams.

This huge woman whose wide-angle bottom didn't even fit between the walkway squeezed her way to our spot, took a couple huffs and a puff, and plopped down hard next to the sleeping guy.

Half of his body became smothered under the excessive mass of cytoplasm, the whole of his right arm and shoulder disappeared, and he was shaken awake as if from an awful nightmare.

He looked so confused with his wide eyes, freaked out for half a minute before he could make sense of what just happened.

He sat there being overly polite for a couple of stops, and our gazes would meet occasionally, me cracking a subtle smile. However, he was too grumpy to react.

Then he got up and sat next to me.

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The man standing next to me was wearing a fancy suit and carrying a leather briefcase in his right hand. He was waiting to take the same train that I was.

The next time I turned to look in his direction to see if the train was coming yet, he'd collapsed right then and there in front of me. A group of people attired in various kinds of uniforms was kneeling on the ground attending to him with urgent motions and concerned looks. Considering the gravity of the situation, they remained quite calm following closely a coordinated process of unwritten rules.

One tall skinny guy wearing a cap was talking into his porto-phone saying that they needed an ambulance right away. He walked right past me and was having some difficulty orienting himself so that he could provide the proper directions on how to get there. At the front of the train station, no better come in from the back, wait I'm on platform three next to the snack bar, so better come in from the side entrance and ...

The poor businessman was lying on the ground with his head tilted at an awkward angle on the leather suitcase, which served the purpose of a make-do pillow on the otherwise hard cement ground. He was motionless and his face was ashen like a wax-figure stricken cold by Medussa's gaze. The people who were bent over him were talking to him in muffled voices, assuring the waxen figure that everything was going to be alright.

I would say that this person was not much younger than I, at most five years. My first impression was that he seemed pretty healthy standing there next to me just a minute ago. Holding the leather briefcase so firmly in his right hand. The one moment glancing quickly at his wristwatch and then the next moment something cracking open reality and slapping him hard in the face.

Although I had been originally feeling pretty grumpy this morning having to go to work again, I think I'm feeling more thankful about life. Might as well enjoy life while I can.

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Just stop for a moment. Have a look around and you'll see mobs of people rushing to get who knows where. They never seem to reach their destinations.

Nothing more than a non-stop parade of meandering souls coming and going. One lady isn't looking where she is going and jars me to the side. Another person passing in the opposite direction, bumps me back into the mass of cytoplasm.

Brownian motion at its best.

From the slightly elevated entrance, I can look pretty far down to the end of the main hallway. I feel like I am floating on a restless sea of bobbing heads.

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My train is running late again, for the third time in less than a week.

This is bad news because I was hoping to get to work early in order to prepare for a fairly important meeting in the afternoon.

The good news is that I choose to take things in stride.

Once I've accepted the delay and the fact that no matter what I do or how I react, I'm going to be late, I can just relax and absorb the world around me.

The world around me could care less who's late and who's on time.

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Sometimes while sitting in the train, it can be quite entertaining watching the strange behavior of your fellow passengers. Especially when it results in an unbroken cycle of this and that which refuses to stop despite the obvious reasons.

Take for instance the overweight guy with a grayish beard who was sitting across from me yesterday evening. He kept trying to read his large hardcover book and stay awake at the same time, but that was too much for him and his tired mind. The book balanced precariously on his protruding belly, teetering back and forth as the train negotiated the various curves and bumpiness of the terrain ahead.

He'd nod his head a couple times, lay his chin on his chest, start snoring and then let his heavy book drop like a rock to the floor. The resounding bang! would startle him back awake, and then realizing that he'd just been reading, he'd bend down and pick up the book. Then he'd have to thumb through the various pages to figure out where he had stopped reading, but I didn't get the impression that he returned to the same page each time.

The cycle repeated itself very predictably. His head would nod a couple times, snoring sounds would occur and then bang! Time to wake up and start reading again. Now where was I?

The bang! would not only startle him awake each time, but also the passengers nearby would jerk from the unexpected strike.

I'm not sure how many times this comical scene repeated itself, but that is not important. What is interesting is that this person was obviously tired and refused to accept that fact, although he kept on nodding off over and over.

Why keep on going and not accept that you are too tired to read? If it were me, I'd simply put the book away and have a good nap. No need risking a giant bang and startling me awake each time.

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What normally is a one-hour commute from Amsterdam to Gouda turned out to be nearly two and a half hours of waiting, standing compressed in crowded aisles, and taking three different trains. All because some stupid bovenleiding was stuk,.

The nice, invisible lady with the soft voice announced every five minutes that there would be a delay "door een defecte bovenleiding tussen Woerden en Gouda".

From Amsterdam I took a different train to Utrecht, from there all the way back west to Alphen a/d Rijn, and finally from there back to Gouda. Zigging and zagging all over the Dutch countryside. I finished four chapters of my new book, so it could have been worse.

I was feeling the can of coke in my bladder and was glad to get home to familiar territory at last, what a relief.

A bovenleiding is that length of parallel thick wires held tightly above the train providing it with energy in the form of high voltage electricity, and causing sparks to fly in the air once in awhile. Defect or stuk or kapot, in case you haven't figured it out, meaning broken.

I hope it's fixed by tomorrow morning.

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During the long one hour commutes by train, there are basically a limited number of activities I care to do before arriving at work. In order of preference:

  • Read a book.
  • Stare out the window.
  • Do things on my netbook.
  • Listen to music.
  • Talk to the person next to me.

Just killing time is not the correct term for this, but in a way it does seem like that sometimes. Retaining a sense of usefulness and/or oneness with nature is a worthy pursuit.

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I felt a little nervous standing so close to that guy on the tram. He had greasy hair, these large tattoos on his arms, and when he saw me looking at him, he stared back hard as if he was considering stabbing me.

He looked like a hooligan and kept staring in my direction. The tram was too crowded and it was impossible to move. So I patiently stood there hoping that we'd reach the train station quicker than usual.

At the next stop, another mob of people pushed itself into the tram. Everyone was getting squeezed more and more together. There was this old guy who was obviously having problems standing on his wobbly legs in such an uncomfortable situation.

Much to my surprise, the hooligan guy stood up, gave the old man a friendly grin and offered him his seat. The old guy thanked him sincerely and plopped down hard on the seat.

I'm always on the guard not to be prejudiced, and I often pride myself that I do not make quick judgments about people, especially those that I may not know well.

This was therefore a good reality check for me to start being more that way again.

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The fact that this entry exists is proof that my Vodafone Mobile Connect Card driver for Linux is working from the speeding train.

The thing doesn't work ideally, but after restarting the program and re-inserting the USB-stick a couple of times, I can connect and fire up my browser.

One advantage is that my one hour trip goes by in a flash, or so it seems. Must be careful I do not miss my stop.

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When the train stops running, it is no less than pure chaos which blocks me every which way I turn.

What normally takes around fifty minutes, became a grueling three hours plus this evening.

I had to get off at Bijlmer, go back to Duivendrecht, change trains at Schiphol and then transfer at Den Haag before I finally made it back to Gouda.

Although I did my best to relax and not get stressed about the delays, I've developed a pretty bad headache.

The good thing is that I felt thankful when I finally made it back home, and that my dinner tasted ten times better than normal.

Tomorrow is another day of traveling and coming back home (hopefully) in time.

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Every minute and a half or thereabouts she received yet another text message. The notification beep of her mobile phone pierced the air. The high-pitched beep was so sharp and loud that it startled all those poor souls sitting next to her.

No one dared say anything, either they didn't notice, didn't care or were too polite to say something and risk a heated argument.

One wonders why folks crank the volume up so high like that. Why every incoming text message should be announced with such an aggravating peep seems strange to say the least.

Let's make it immediately known to everyone nearby that yes this young lady is so darned popular. She is sure receiving alot of text messages from one and another distant admirer. The public will go home and spread the word about the really popular girl in the train and it will be the talk of the town.

There I was observing this strange behavior from a distance. The next text message arrived right on schedule. She had the biggest smile on her face. When she looked up and saw that I too had noticed, she had to blush in purest satisfaction.
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Now that I've been stuck sitting across from the notorious foot tapper guy and recognize his face for future reference, I know who not to sit next to again while in the train.

Earphones blaring music, shoulders bouncing and the whole way home both his overgrown feet tapping loudly right next to mine.

A few times he shifted somewhat which resulted in direct hits to my toes, my grumpy glance not phasing him one bit.

Seek comfort when possible and make it so when the situation is temporarily otherwise, if you know what I mean. Humankind has much to offer. Each new episode is a learning experience while it lasts, so make the best of it.
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When the train is overly crowded, like it was again this morning, I'm always relieved when I find an unoccupied seat over there.

I try to squeeze myself ever so politely next to the kind fellow passenger without disrupting things too much.

What really bothers me are those few uncaring folks who do not move a single iota to the left nor to the right in order to give you some extra wiggle room.

Their left leg remains extended outward with the bony knee jabbing your outer calf, and a misplaced elbow pokes into your side.

Not even a subtle cough or poking back with your shoulder seems to help, in fact the immovable form becomes even more resistant to your unwanted presence.
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Tomorrow we will be traveling to the Spanish island of Mallorca where we'll be staying for eight days at a small place on the east coast called Cala d'Or. I look forward to a fun and relaxing time. According to the weather forecast it will be a warm and sunny week there.
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It had been a pretty busy day at work, so sitting in the train I gave a quick yawned and stretched my arms in the air and back of me.

That's when I felt something unusual, something scratchy and furry at the same time. Confused, I felt it with my fingers and rubbed the scratchy mass between my thumb and forefinger.

What is that?!

When I turned my head to the left and craned my neck backwards to see what this eerie object might be, my two eyes met the two eyes of the passenger sitting behind me.

We were sitting back to back and that furry object happened to be his bushy hair at the back of his head.

An uncomfortable grin and a quick nod were my non-verbal apologies, and when he nodded back at me with an equally slight grin I felt better.

What an idiot I'd been.

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Not everyone is familiar with the idea that in Holland bike paths are everywhere, especially not foreigners. In Amsterdam they are all over the place, which is good because one can pretty much bike easily from one end of the city to the other.

The foreigners are unaware of this and walk along the marked bike paths thinking that they are designated pedestrian walkways.

So I'm walking back to the train station from my work, and this old guy on a bike wings by, ringing his bell in continuous spasms screaming at the top of his lungs:

"Get out of the way, can't you see that this is a bike path, watch out!" And continuing in Dutch he proceeds to cuss and offend kind folks because he's too much of an idiot to understand.

He gives no regard to the poor unknowing pedestrians who are innocently trying to find their way to the nearest place of interest, and almost runs them over. In fact, he glances off of one older person nearly knocking him over into the canal. People run for cover as if some complete maniac is doing who knows what.

I simply continue my way to the train station, knowing that no matter what my opinion is, it doesn't really matter and will not change things. Better to accept those demented bike maniacs and continue on your way.

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Information

This personal weblog was started way back on July 21, 2001 which means that it is 7-21-2001 old.

So far this blog contains no less than 2288 entries and as many as 1877 comments.

Important events

Graduated from Stanford 6-5-1979 ago.

Kiffin Rockwell was shot down and killed 9-23-1916 ago.

Believe it or not but I am 10-11-1957 young.

Began well-balanced and healthy life style 1-8-2013 ago.

My father passed away 10-20-2000 ago.

First met Thea in Balestrand, Norway 6-14-1980 ago.