Wordless Wednesday - Dad and the kids
Wordless Wednesday
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Travel and other thought-provoking summer events
10 days in a bus can still teach one a thing or two. Like how asphalt will tent in extreme heat, blocking the whole autobahn. Or how upsetting Norwegians find dealing with older German tourists who speak fondly of their time in Norway back in the 40's (I'm sure some US GI's have made the same faux pas when visiting Europe). Or that whatever may be going on financially, the Germans and Austrians still manage to keep the sides of their roads manicured. Or that words like "cup" and "large" don't translate at all. It's "large cup" in English, "grosse Tasse" (more or less) in German and "stor kopp" in Norwegian. My German was terribly rusty, but I did manage to use it. And I discovered that German-speakers have something in common with the French: They love that you try to use their language. So, this year's summer vacation was a bit early for me, and it feels like I didn't actually have a vacation. Still, I
Bats, birds and turbines
Sailing out from Copenhagen, on the ferry bound for Oslo, we pass by a long line of wind turbines standing tall out in the water. As "green" as I am, I have never liked the looks of the modern three-bladed wind turbine. There is something about them that bothers me. When I watch them turn, I find that there is no evenness to their rotation; visually, it looks to me like three Barbie doll legs, one "falling" down after another. (I have rarely seen these things moving so fast you can't make out the individual blades.) Apparently, these turbines are not as environmentally friendly as we are led to believe. In the county of Rogaland in Norway, one array is noise polluting a nearby neighborhood. I have read that the maximum three blades on modern turbines is chosen because it makes a minimum of noise. Still, anything that big, rotating in the wind, will make some sound. Another array was put in a white-tailed eagle breeding area two counties north of where I l
Writing sensation
There is something about a blank sheet of paper and a comfortable ink pen, and putting those two together. There is also something about having spent years preferring the speed and ease of touch typing and so ruining what legibility my handwriting used to have. Girls seem to go through stages of testing our longhand more so than boys do. During puberty we try on dotting our i's with hearts or circles or inventing a new way to make the loops on our g's and y's, the same way we try on new shades of eye shadow or doing our hair. Some of the experiments become habit, while others are short-lived fads. My lettering changed to a predominantly Norwegian style since it is simpler than the US style —even though the Norwegian lower-case "t" had me baffled at first. In school, we regularly practiced stringing letters legibly together with a fountain pen—the kind that uses cartridges; I still have my stainless steel one for sentimental reasons. The bump formed on my midd