Once again, we found ourselves at Graveyard Fields this weekend.
Last time we were there, L was much smaller:
I've a feeling that, as long as Dziadek is here, we'll be doing a lot of repeat trips.
More at Flickr
Repeating Ourselves
travel
Ojcow
I've been in the process of uploading old pictures to Flickr in an effort to make our collection there more indicative of our travels in Poland.
Ojcow lies just outside of Krakow. It's a national park filled with rock formations and ancient castle ruins.
K and I visited Ojcow in late November 2002, for "Andrzejki" -- the last night of partying before Advent sets in.
The first thing that strikes you about Ojcow when you arrive the bus station. There's a tree growing through it.
We never learned why they built it around that tree. Maybe a rare tree? Maybe an ecological conscience? Maybe an architectural novelty?
Ojcow is in an area formerly ruled by the Austro-Hungarian empire during the partition of Poland. The Austrians declared that the Poles shall not build a single church on this ground. Occupied Catholic Poles being what they are (like most occupied people, very stubborn), they figured out a way to get around that. Such rule bending drives me absolutely nuts when my students do it.
Chimney Rock, Take 201
Last Sunday we went to Chimney Rock.
Again...
When Dziadek was planning his trip, he'd looked through all the pictures of where we'd been with J (and where she'd bought spoons...) and decided that, having saved up some money, informed us that he wanted to go on one "real" outing, and the rest could be "little spoons." (It sounds better in Polish.) So he came with plans to go on one big trip and instructions to bring home spoons from everywhere he'd been.
Chimney Rock was our first "little spoon."
"Mamus juz tu byla?" he asked.
"Yes, she's been here," we responded.
"Nie musimy kupic lyzeczka, co?"
"No, we don't have to buy her a spoon."
36 Hours in Asheville, N.C. in NYT
The New York Times has an article about Asheville:
There are lazy cafes and buzzing bistros, Art Deco skyscrapers and arcades reminiscent of Paris, kayaking and biodiesel cooperatives and one of the world's largest private homes -- the Biltmore Estate, a French Renaissance-style mansion with 250 rooms. No wonder so many locals first started out as tourists. (36 Hours in Asheville, N.C. - New York Times)
And coverage like that is probably one reason why it got so expensive that we left...
What I like most about the article is the mention of the farmers' market: "a bright and cavernous space where you can chew the fat (literally) with the drawling farm folk." The Southern Drawl -- the ultimate tourist attraction.
USeless Airways
My father used to joke when he traveled occasionally on business that US Airways’ name is missing a few letters to make it more accurate. I’m inclined to agree.
We took K’s mother, J, to the airport Thursday afternoon, leaving here at about 2:00 pm. She finally arrived in Poland Saturday at about 4:00 am, our time. And why?
Simple — US Air has both the competency and the professionalism of a wart.
Because of “heavy air traffic,” J’s flight from Charlotte left more than an hour late. K was with J at the gate, and K was asking what will happen if J misses the flight. US Air said that they would not take responsibility for the cost of getting J a hotel room in the eventuality that she missed her flight.
On the flight here, US Air lost both of J’s pieces of luggage. J landed in Chicago and then flew to Charlotte — but her luggage took a vacation somewhere else.
More accurately, the US Air representative could have said, “We don’t take responsibility for our customers. Period.” That was the reality of the situation, but we didn’t know that then.
K and I drive home, wondering if J got on board and whether everything was okay. Just as we were parking, the phone rings. It was J. She’d missed her flight and had no idea what to do. She was hysterical, literally. After all, it was almost twelve. The airport was virtually empty. There was no one at all from LOT, the Polish national carrier. As previously arranged, someone from US Air had led her to the next gate, but that was it. She was left stranded, not knowing what to do and unable to communicate with anyone. Finally, someone at the baggage claim area helped her get in touch with us, and all I heard from K was, “Mother, please calm down. Please. I can’t understand what you’re saying when you’re crying like that.”
Eventually, I got on the phone with US Air and had them re-book a ticket to Poland, but it was to be twenty-four hours after her originally scheduled departure time. Or at least that’s what the bloke at US Air told me.
Was there an offer at this point to arrange for a hotel for this poor woman stuck in the middle if an airport? No.
The difference between American flight crews and German flight crews.
While waiting for the first flight, K and J had the chance to observe several flight crews walking to their planes. Slowly, jackets unbuttoned, relaxed. In Germany, K watched a Lufthansa flight crew: everyone in perfectly pressed, buttoned uniforms, walking quick-step in a single-file line to their plane. “It was like they were in the army!” J laughed.
I spoke with Mark — the gentleman at baggage claim helping J — and he helped write a note for J explaining in English what her situation was so that she could go to the ticket counter when it opened and have her ticket reissued. He agreed to take care of her in the lost-baggage section, and even asked us what kind of coffee she preferred. If I were there, I’d have bought it a beer. Or a whole case.
We left it at that.
Friday, J spent the day in the airport. It turned out that Mark had taken the initiative to hunt down someone in the airport who could speak Polish, and this woman helped J through the rest of the day after Mark had left work. More — Mark had taken J to the ticket counter and helped her get her ticket reissued, and showed her where she’d have to go afterwards.
But it turned out that the ticket was not for a flight that left 11 pm Friday. It was for a flight that left 11 pm Saturday. So the guy who arranged the ticket for us, knowing that it’s for a woman who doesn’t speak English, arranged a flight 48 hours later and didn’t bother even to ask what this woman would do during said 48 hours.
Fortunately, the mystery Polish woman — also an employee of the airport — got better arrangements for J: a Lufthansa flight that left 30 hours earlier.
But that was just the beginning of J’s adventures.
Saturday morning, we learned that the Lufthansa flight was also late, and she missed her connecting flight in Frankfurt. But here German efficiency showed itself to be better than American “customer service.” Knowing that the flight would be late, Lufthansa had checked the passenger manifest, determined who would miss which flight, and re-booked those individuals. When J got off the plane, someone was waiting with a new ticket and guided her directly to the gate.
For those who might comment, “If that were me, letters would be written and calls would be made,” don’t worry — it’s in the works.
It seems to me that this how “civilized”carriers treat their customers. It seems to me that modern carriers will realize that, no matter what the cause of the delay, it is their responsibility to take care of passengers. It seems to me that passengers who arrange for special assistance — as we had done for J — should get that assistance as opposed to being dumped in the middle of an airport in the middle of the night. It seems to me that if a carrier wants to keep someone as a customer, it wouldn’t treat that customer to the same kind of service it provides said customer’s luggage.
And it seems to me that US Air’s price will have to be significantly lower than any other airline’s for me to consider using them.
Golf-esque
Returning to the story of our Gatlinburg adventure…
After we had some aquatic fun and the rain had stopped, K and I decided it was time to introduce J to the all American invention of mini-golf.
As when I taught Polish students how to play baseball, I was shocked at all the little nuances of a putting swing that I did without thinking — and I don’t golf, to speak of.
Rules of mini-golf, in other words.
For instance, never raise the club head above your knees — it will result in a swing instead of a put. This is almost always bad, but particularly so if there’s a rock in front of you and a young girl behind.
It’s entirely possible — however unlikely it seems — that the golf ball will strike the rock and sail back toward the young girl’s head. One would think that after this, said young girl would stay far away from axe-wielding grandmother, but youth has its own recklessness.
A few more pictures in the Gatlinburg photo set.
Wet, Wet, Wet
After visiting the aquarium and walking around town a bit
we headed back to the hotel room for a bit of a break. And then the rain started.
That's when we decided to make use of the accident of our booking -- a room with a king-size bed (poor J slept on the most uncomfortable couch in history) with a jacuzzi in the room.
Naturally, with the Girl joining us, the water was not as not as it should have been, but that was offset by the joy of her splashing.
More at Flickr and YouTube (short video that includes a portion that has nothing to do with rain or a jacuzzi, but is amusing nonetheless).
One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Saw Fish
After a little sightseeing in Chattanooga, we heading out for Pigeon Forge, where we'd be saying for the next two nights.
Our day in Gatlinburg began at the aquarium.
The initial impression -- a little cheesy. Fake sky with fake birds and fake clouds painted about the main tank.
Then we went through the tunnel, and it all made sense...
The underwater tunnel was so enlightening that we decided to go through it a second time before leaving.
It was a lot of fun, but I found myself wishing L was about two or three years older, so that she could enjoy it more. As could be expected, there was a kids' area where visitors could touch horseshoe crabs and crawl into amusing, picturesque fish tanks.
L couldn't crawl, so I helped.
Still, it seemed she had a pretty good time -- she slept, she ate, she saw a few new things. Overall, a success.
There are more pictures at Flickr. And of course there's a film.
Rock, Preferably Without the Roll
Soon, J will be flying back to Polska. K and I wanted to take her on some kind of semi-extended semi-vacation before she left, but where to go?
Our trip had several constraints from the beginning
- relatively inexpensive (we are, after all, buying a house),
- relatively close (we don't, after all, have a lot of vacation time), and
- relatively interesting for J.
So we did the logical thing: we went kitsch.
America is filled with kitsch, and the common view from Polska is that "Americans like kitsch." There was only one place that fulfilled all our criteria: Gatlinburg.
But we knew that it would be relatively expensive to do much there, so we sandwiched it with a half-day in Chattanooga and a day in Cherokee.
Our stops in Chattanooga were about as kitsch as could be, in some ways: Rock City
and Ruby Falls.
Very American: take nature, and improve it with sidewalks, elevators, and safety barriers. And above all, make it auto-accessible.
We had fun, though. Rock City brings out the little boy in everyone, and Ruby Falls, while overly theatrical (not to mention amazingly crowded in the summer), is a fairly impressive sight.
Photos of our adventure are available here.
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