Do I look helpful or something?

Können Sie mir helfen?

 

This was the question put to me this morning by what appeared to be a Grandma out with her two Grandkids on Mariahilferstraße.   This was right around 9:30 a.m., just as the shops were starting to open up,  and it was starting to get a little busy. 

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind helping.  I just couldn’t figure out how she picked me out of the passers by.   Seems she was having some issues with her high fallutin’ new fangled baby buggy.   Well,  I don’t think it was actually hers,  but she was at the wheel.
Talk about being out of my depth!   My guess is that her yuppy offspring were busy working,  she was in charge of the kids,  and naturally there was no training manual with the thing.   They didn’t have these kind of high end buggies when our kids were young,  which we wouldn’t have been able to afford anyway.

The wheels wouldn’t swivel,  and there was some sort of secret code involved to get them to spin again.  I did mention at one point as I got down on my hands and knees (always painful) that my “kids”  were approaching middle age,  so this could take me a couple minutes.

The buggy kind of looked like this one with the set of duel wheels on the back.  I guess that’s for extra payload.  Kind of like having a tag axle?

It actually took me a good long ten or fifteen seconds studying the wheels before I realised there was a second little tab that you could lift,  and then they’d swivel right around.   Good to know!   Yessir,  gonna tuck that one away.    *pfft*

Right.

 

Can’t I just give directions to tourists?   Not as hard to get up off the ground I find.   My stupid knee still hurts.

Oh,  and I didn’t take any pictures of the old girl,  the young girls and their “rig”,  since I’m not overly keen on taking pictures of kids that would then end up on the internet.  Just one of those things.

 

Speaking of “helpful”,  I somehow don’t think this cop had being helpful in mind.   At first I briefly thought he was giving some sort of directions or whatever to the fellow with the bike,  but there was a bit of a lecture involved,  and then some writing.  Hm…

 

I wouldn’t have given that too much thought,  but not long after that, I saw him having a little chat with yet another bike rider.  

Do we see a pattern here?

There had been a third guy with a bike that he was having a chat with earlier,  which I hardly noticed in passing,  but then when I saw him with the next guy,  that’s when I hauled out the camera.   It’s not easy taking stealth photos either.

Looking for a stolen bike?   Doubtful.  Probably more like hassling some of the rogue bike riders in these parts.  

My first European bike experience was in the Netherlands.  It’s a place where they have pretty strict rules for bikes,  even though bikes and pedestrians are given a wide berth. It’s a rare thing in the Netherlands to be forced to ride with the cars if the speed limit is much more than “dead slow”,  and on the bike lanes  (“highways” is a better word)  there are separate traffic lights for pedestrians and bikes.  It’s awesome.

If you want a brief taste,  this little video is plenty short.

 

Now,  if you have another four minutes to kill,  I’ll burden you with yet another biking video from the Netherlands.  This was taken by a fellow by the name of David Hembrow,  who lives in Assen.  He writes a bike blog,   whenever he has a chance,  called A view from the cycle path.

 

I thought the music in this one was is kind of cute.

The paths they are on are a bit narrower,  as they are in a less developed area. 

 

You might have noticed that they don’t just paint a line on the road and call it a bike lane.  Really,  that sort of thing should just be called “bike lame”,  since it is.   Bikes in the Netherlands have their own space mostly to themselves.   I miss that.

One fine morning when I was taking Travelling Companion to work in Hengelo, we saw a cop car go right down a bike path (most are over two metres wide in the Netherlands)  to chase down someone on a bike and issue a citation.  Something I had never seen before.

Could it be that they’re starting to tighten things up here as well?   Wouldn’t hurt my feelings.  I haven’t been riding all that much lately since it’s too danged busy out there,  but when I did,  I stopped at the red lights and followed the rules as best I could.   Most of the time while everyone else rode on past me through the intersection.  Not a good way to get any respect for bikes,  I’ll tell ya much.

So if you did watch the videos, and before you say, “Oh but,  Holland is flat,  and they have nice weather!”  let me just say “No”,  the winter we were there I was out riding in -9°C,  and yes that was pretty damned cold to be on a bike,  but they clear off the snow and put down sand or salt for the bikes as well as for the cars.  For you Fahrenheit folks,  that’s easy.  It’s nine degrees below the freezing point of water.  Now you know.

AND, since it’s flat,  there’s ALWAYS going to be a head wind.  You might have a tale wind on the way,  but guess what?  you need to return at some point.    Why do you think they have all those windmills?

It’s all about making it safe to ride your bike,  and not just on some old railroad line that’s now been graciously turned over to the bikers and the knobs on rollerblades for a recreational outing on a Sunday afternoon.  I,  along with a host of others,  rode my bike every day.   Often making several trips.  It was how I got around.

 

Just going to take a deep breath here.

 

Didn’t mean to get off on a bit of a rant,  but once you’ve drunk that particular biking nectar,  you’ll never be happy with the vinegar that gets served up by your local politicians.  

Bike lame.  Pah!

 

T.C. just called and she’s on her way home.  Time to cut some cheese.   And that’s NOT toilet humour.

 

Have a fine weekend if I don’t check back.

 

Keep it between the ditches.

Thanks for….you know.

 

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Fingers in the Cookie Jar?

I don’t usually comment on internet stuff,  since I leave that to the more learned individuals out there,  but I can’t help myself. 

 

Google fined over Safari cookie privacy row

Google has agreed to pay the largest fine ever imposed on a single company by the US Federal Trade Commission.

The firm agreed to pay $22.5m (£14.4m) after monitoring web surfers using Apple's Safari browser who had a "do not track" privacy setting selected.

Oops.  

You can read the article here, if you’re remotely interested,  but that snippet above pretty much sums it up.  I think fining Google 22.5 million would be like fining the rest of us a hundred bucks. That’s just my opinion, but I imagine it’s not much more than a minor annoyance for them.  They’ll probably appeal.  Doesn’t everyone?   Oh wait,  they said they “agreed”.  *pfft* They can still appeal.

 

Opting out of ‘tracking’ cookies in Apple’s Safari is supposedly the default choice (if I read that article right)  but apparently the Mother Ship thought it OK to add a little code to get around that.  Tut tut.

I know that we’re being tracked by the Mother Ship,  but just the same,  I have a little add-on called Do Not Track Plus that has blocked about 40,000 tracking cookies since I installed it a couple months ago.  I’m not paranoid,  but I don’t get those annoying ads in my Hotmail account anymore for some reason.  That works for me.

 

Not much else going on today in Wienerland.  Weather’s just about perfect,  and I apologize if yours isn’t.   No humidity,  no bugs,  and just enough clouds in the sky to keep it from getting too toasty in our lofty perch.

I think there’s a sky segue in there.

 

 

Ooh lookee,  see?  Clouds.

Always best to be on the lookout for potential falling objects.

The cranes (sorry,  State Symbols)  make a distinctive whirring sound when raising or lowering potential Bob-crushing items.   I haven’t seen anything fall yet,  but maybe I’ve just watched too many YouTube videos?

I don’t even know what the heck that thing was,  and the first thing that caught my attention was the Dude on the street with the walkie-talkie.   No clue where the crane operator is.  Probably in the courtyard.   Don’t say, “in the cab” either.   Most of the State Symbols are radio controlled from the ground.  Saves all that climbing up and down.

 

Travelling Companion is out to dinner tonight,  so muggins here is off the hook dinner wise.  They had some sort of training session for non-financial Managers to learn about finance.  Or something.  Seems like a good plan to me,  since the object of business typically leans towards the idea of making some money,  and that usually involves some sort of “finances”.   Seems blatantly obvious to the rest of us,  I know. 

 

Anyhoo,  she’s off to chow down with 25 or so of the participants in the course.  She was the impetus behind this whole “bringing everyone up to speed”  thing,  so she has to go along as a gesture of solidarity.   Plus,  I think she has to pay the bill.  That part is kind of important.  It’s always the highest ranking person at the table who pays.   Thems the rules.   I’ll explain that if you don’t quite get it.

 

Not a day goes by that I don’t see tourists hoofing it down the street after coming in from the airport.

Good luck I say.  These two were really booting it too,  or I might have offered some directions. By the time I got the camera out,  they were already into telephoto territory. They seemed to have a bead on where they were headed.

Youth is certainly on their side,  but just the same,  when I came to Europe for the very first time as a (poor) student,  the person I was travelling with and I made sure we had a few Francs set aside for a cab ride to our hotel.   The scrimping and saving could start RIGHT AFTER we got to that hotel.  We had no desire to try and find our way from the airport to the Fifth Arrondissement in Paris after an all night flight.  Youth might have been on our side,  but I wasn’t as brave as those two.   Screw that!

There’s something to be said for sitting in the relative comfort in the back of a cab,  knowing you’ll arrive at your destination.  I say “relative” as Parisian taxi-cabs are a might smaller than the somewhat spacious things we had in Canada at the time.  Still are, I believe.  And yes,  we had a vague idea as to where we needed to go,  so it wasn’t like Pierre or Louis was going to take us on a big detour. 

 

Hope you’re enjoying your day.

 

Thanks for coming on by.

 

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Monkey Business.

Most days,  I start off with an exceedingly small list of things to do.   You know,  go to the toilet,  go to the bakery.  Usually best to do it in that order too.  We won’t go there.

This morning however,  it’s been a bit of a tack,  to use the sailing analogy. 

First of all,  a few weeks ago,  as is the case with anyone whose blood sugar levels need to be kept an eye on, I took Travelling Companion up to the Otto Wagner Spittal one morning to get her arm poked.  Nasty business as it turned out,  since the arm poking person was some guy who didn’t know how to find a vein, and I think the honkin’ big bruise T.C. had on her arm just cleared up a couple days ago.  At least I haven’t noticed it recently.   Hurt like hell too,  although T.C. isn’t much of a complainer.

Which begs the question, if it’s your job to draw blood,  shouldn’t you have a clue?  I wanted to say, “F**ing clue”,  but I’m trying to be civil.

Just one of those little mysteries.  There’s probably no answer,  and I don’t think it’s a gender thing,  as there are plenty of young (and old) ladies out there who poke around in your arm a few times before finding a place to suck a little life out of you.   Good times!  Oh ya.

As it happened,  there was some minor thing or other that they discovered that needed a little bit of tweaking,  but the last time I had to go and sort out a prescription,  that meant getting to the doctor’s office,  which then  meant sitting on public transit for a bit longer than I usually like. 

On that occasion, it was a hot day and considerably cooler down in the subway and all,  but just the same,  we’ve had the odd power outage here on those really hot days, and I have no desire to be sitting on a stranded subway car between stops.   Just thought I’d point that out.

So I was delighted to hear that the doc was willing to pop the prescription in the mail!   Oh ya baby!  Why can’t they all do that?   And sure enough,  it was in the mailbox this morning.  This was only after T.C. had called her as recently as Monday.  That was quick,  and easy peasy,  as the “Apotheke” had that little goodie in stock,  so that one was off the list. 

Well,  there was really no list,  although some days I do make one.

 

Then it was on to job number two.   No toilet humour.

I figured I’d head down to the hardware store in hopes of finding a nut.   Since I wasn’t going to be driving,  at least there was no chance of there being one at the wheel.   Plus, it was pleasantly cool this morning,  so I figured I pass on the sandal program,  pull on some better walking shoes and hit the bricks.    Or interlocking pavers,  as the case may be. 

I’m not keen on wearing socks and runners in the summer AT ALL,  but my old dogs need some protection if I’m going to do much walking at all.

Oh,  there’s a segue..

 

Saw this little guy on the way.   Note the leash that is only draped over the railing?

Such a good dog.

His owner came out directly. 

 

 

Anyway,  I figured I’d take a shot at finding a tiny little nut that had come off one of Travelling Companion’s purses,  without which the thing was rendered somewhat useless.  It’s one of those rather pricey little items from Gilda-Tonelli,  but unfortunately,  somebody forgot to torque down this one little nut,  and the bugger made its escape!   It wasn’t even lying in the special bag they give you,  in which you store your bag when you want to put it back on the shelf and perhaps choose another one that day.

Um ya,  apparently if you spend enough on a purse,  they give you a bag to keep it in when you’re not using it. 

I know nothing of these things,  and we’re not about to tally up the shoes and purses.

I have ONE wallet.  I’ve had it for twenty years.  Again,  I know nothing of these things.

 

I might have mentioned this place before,  but up until now I’ve had no particular need to go there,  except to wander in and sort of scope the place out,  which I did last year sometime.

 

Today I had a mission!   In their little video,  which is down on the lower right hand corner of their start page on that site,  they mostly talk about the metal they sell,  but they have copious amounts of hardware.  It’s in German of course,  but it won’t hurt you to watch. 

And I found my nut!   Actually,  I bought two different ones,  just in case.   Both of them came to a grand total €,41. (that’s forty-one cents, by the way) 

I could have got by with only spending Twelve cents,  but I decided to get the type that has the cap on the end.  Big spender!  I know!

The pricier one is a “cap” or “acorn”  nut.

Had to look that one up.

Because you care.

 

 

Of course,  I could have tried to look up the proper German nomenclature for said nuts,  but it’s heaps easier to just take the little bolt along and ask for a “Mutter”  to go with it.   Yes kids,  a “nut” in German,  in this case,  is indeed a “Mutter”.   Not to be confused with your Mother,  although it is the same word.  Don’t ask, I have no flippin’ clue.

A “nut”  that you eat,  is a “Nuss”.   Plural is “Nüsse”.

Confused yet?   Try keeping that all straight after you’ve not spoken German for 30 years and then taking it up again once you hit middle age.  I’ll give ya confused!   Deer in the headlights confused.   Just saying.

 

Also,  trying to figure it out from the text book can be a bit overwhelming.

I got all the books!  If I could possibly squeeze it all into my pea brain,  I would just have a wealth of knowledge.   Problem is,  I got CRS.   So I just muddle along and hope for the best. 

Or,  in the case of the lady who called from the Bank,  hope that they might possibly be willing to try their English.  Hers wasn’t that great.

It’s a funny thing, but in person,  I have very little issues with my German.  I sat in the chair yesterday and the lady who cuts my hair and I had a good time flapping our jaws.  But on the phone,  I suck.  Maybe it’s partly my somewhat diminished hearing?  I’m not sure.

No sooner had I come in the door,  when the phone rang,  and it was some person from Bank Austria,  looking for Travelling Companion.   Well good luck,  she’s at work.  That’s why we’re here. 

It turns out that our bank cards are due to expire at the end of 2012,  but since they like to get a jump on things (I guess?)  we could go and pick them up anytime.   Of course,  only in person. 

Right.

See originally,  when I noticed that our cards expired at the end of 2012 I thought,  “Ha!  We’ll be home by then!”  *pfft*! Silly bugger.  That was wishful thinking.

There was one other letter in the mailbox this morning, which was the bill for the blood work,  and so I was headed for the bank at some point anyway.

Here’s how it works.   There’s no such thing as a cheque here in Europe.  For you yanks,  that would be a check.  Whatever.  Either way,  they don’t have them.  Haven’t had such a critter for a few years now.  And really,  I think cheques are dumb anyway.  It’s like when you had to go to school with a note from your Mom.   It’s only a piece of paper.  Just silly.

What happens is,  when you owe someone money and they send you a bill,  they’ll include a bank transfer at the bottom.  It’s an Überweisung.   (Oh Gawd!  Here he goes with the German again!)

The thing is,  they have these machines set up in the lobby of the bank,  so you can go in and pay a bill at any time night or day.   Since our other obligations are taken care of automatically through online banking,  this isn’t something I have to deal with all that often, if ever.  So I naturally went into the inner part of the bank,  thinking that was what I needed to do.   Well,  truth be told, I kinda forgot about the machines set up in the lobby?

After signing for my new bank card, the very patient young lady then took me back out to the lobby and showed me this bank transfer procedure.  She didn’t have to hold my hand as if I were some dumb chimp or anything,  and I tried not to drool on myself.   This was the second time I’ve been shown this drill.  *sigh*

I did seem to remember something about this kind of thing the last time I was in.  Back in my deepest darkest memory.   I think it was last year sometime.  

What did I say about CRS?

The whole brief event is designed to be as simple and easy as possible.  And it really is.  I’m not kidding.  Almost to the point of embarrassment.

They even had a button where you could choose English.  Really?  So it turns out I could feel like a complete knob in either language.  Swell.

When the transaction was complete I said, after I drew a breath in over my teeth,  “Ein Affe hätte das tun können”.

She smiled and laughed just a little.   She was being polite.  Best to humour the old Dude.  Stupid old bugger.  I was close to the door.   I used it.

 

Oh,  and you can plug that one into Google Translate if you choose.  Up to you.   I’m done.

 

We’re only about a third of the way through that cake.  Not sure we’ll make it.   That was a lot of cake.  wuf.

 

Thanks for stopping by.

 

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