So Close!

Let me tell you a little story about well,  frustration mostly.
See, here in Wienerland,  we’re back to the routine of me being “chief cook and bottle washer”. (have to look up where that one came from) 
That seems to cover most everything.  I’m not kidding about the cooking.  It’s not five star.  I’m shooting for about three and a half.  Better than a lot of restaurants I’ve been to though.
Here are some gratuitous photos:
Turns out I’ve even been doing the “weekend meals” too! Harumph!  I’m supposed to get the weekends “off”.  Oh well.   This one was breaded chicken and grilled veggies.  The veggies look a little pale,  since there was a deal on Zucchinis.  I probably should have just bought one.

Then we have Mmmmmeatloaf.  

Along with our very last Slovenian tomato.  It was good though.




I happen to be able to make a damned fine meatloaf.  Unlike steak,  it IS something on which I will put ketchup.  This particular meal was pretty much a “no carb” meal.  That is,  with the exception of the glass of wine,  and there’s minimal carbohydrates in wine.   (It’s that whole cooking for a diabetic thing?)

Enough of the photos.
Then,  besides the cooking,  there’s most everything else.   I’ve mentioned the chauffeuring part,  but there’s also the idea that I have to make any and all appointments,  including those for hair or Doctor or what have you.   I’ve tried to point out that I’m not anyone’s secretary,  and both the doctor and the hair dresser do speak English.  The hair dresser not so much.  She and I stick to German.  The Doc is a professional though,  and I expect her to keep up.
So here’s the thing.   From time to time,  I have to queue up at the local pharmacy out here about 50 metres from our front door,  and fill a couple prescriptions.  See,  you can’t just wander in like at Walgreens,  or Shopper’s Drug Mart and buy your haemorrhoid cream off the shelf.  No no,  everything is in the back.  So in the case of the aforementioned haemorrhoid cream,  that means you’re pretty well letting everyone within earshot know that your butt hole is itching like a son of a bitch,  and you just need some salve. 
*sigh*.
Yup, that can be such fun.   On a positive note,  the haemorrhoid cream they sell here is really “kick ass”.  Thank-you.  Thank-you.  Be sure and tip your server.

The other rather unfortunate aspect of this system is,  EVERYONE has to then wait to be served.  Whether it’s Tee Tree Oil,  Butt Salve or what have you,  it’s in the back.  This is why the place is always full of people.   They’re not really “busy”,  it just looks that way.
It’s a hell of a strategy really.  “Oh look how wonderfully busy we are!”   Right.

So that’s already frustration number one.  There are two items that I have to get.  I managed to get one.  The other had to be renewed by the doc.  This isn’t always the case.  I’ve been pleasantly surprised in the past to be able to take the prescription back in, time after time for something like a year and get the pills for Travelling Companion.    Then I struck out.   How was I supposed to know this?
So yesterday afternoon,  after a couple emails and phone calls,  I had to go see the doc so she could write a new prescription for Travelling Companion.   You may recall that Travelling Companion is,  wait for it,  travelling?  Unavailable.  Next week she’s in Italy.  Running out of pills.  Just a little tension there.

The doctor’s office isn’t THAT far from our front door,  but it’s Vienna.  Her office hours are from three to seven.  In any city you can think of, that’s rush hour.
Out of one whole long city block, there was actually one parking spot that I was able to nab (after doing a three point turn,  holding up traffic but I don’t care at this point)  and got myself into the doctor’s office.  This is another one of those typical locations in an old building (well,  like there are any new ones in Vienna?)  with a left and a right “Stiege” (staircase) will elevators that have been installed at some later date.  Sort of like stepping into an old movie set.  Maybe one of these times I’ll take a bunch of pictures when I’m in one of these places.  Our building is kind of like that, but not as elegant or dramatic.   The doc has some sort of Embassy across the way from her office.  La-di-da. 
No armed guard this time.
The first time when both Travelling Companion and I went there together,  there was actually an armed guard standing in the hallway.  A little unnerving,  but we’re sort of used to that kind of thing.   Sort of.
So fine,  had to sit in the waiting room for a couple minutes, (I mean, if you didn’t,  would it still be a real doctor’s office?  I don’t think so.)  and then got invited in to get my little piece of paper.  Well technically I suppose it’s not MY piece of paper,  but my problem none the less.  The doc did make some reference to the notion that, “You are retired,  aren’t you?”   Hm, I went along with that assessment. I really wanted to point out that technically,  I’m unemployed,  but whatever.  .
Managed to make my way back across town by using a couple of my own devious little short cuts (OK,  maybe blatantly obvious to anyone living here,  but I like to think I’m clever that way)  and once again took my place in the mob at the drug store, edging my way ever closer to the counter. 

They didn’t have it.

The young lad came back out from the never ending storage room in the back with three packages all right,  but I took one look and said, “Ne,  die sind zu stark”.  (those are too strong) since they were 1000mg,  and we’ve been getting 850.  Or something.  But not 1000.   He missed that part.
There’s such a thing as “hypoglycaemia”,   (as opposed to “hyperglycaemia”) which is what would happen is she took those.   (blood sugar too low)  We don’t want that. 

So the prescription will be in today after two.

They’ve got our money,  so let’s hope so?

Now I’m off to the airport.  Did I forget to say something about a new visitor?   Oh dear.


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More of the same.

Sometimes I take for granted some of the spectacles that one sees on a daily basis here in Wienerland.   This was from this morning about about 7:20.  Of course,  I actually wanted to take a shot of the whole thing,  until this idiot cut in front on his scooter.  This “cutting in front”, is a phenomenon that happens everywhere in Europe,  and it’s one of those little things that can really start to get annoying.


Today was another driving day for me,  since Travelling Companion has to do a little travelling of her own.  Originally she thought she’d be taking the car,  since there’s some sort of Big Head coming in to Vienna from the Head Office of the Company that Cannot be Named.   He’s replacing some other Big Head who got shipped off to China.  Somehow I just don’t think that’s such a good thing,  but there are those who don’t seem to mind.  That’s a whole other topic.  At least here in Wienerland I can get something to eat,  although I got tired of Wiener Schnitzel a while back.    Didn’t Stalin send a bunch of folks off to the Gulags?  OK, never mind.
Anyhoo,  her new boss offered to be the chauffeur,  and they’ll be taking a run up to the Czech Republic to have a look at a production facility there,  along with a couple other locations in Austria.  She can just be another passenger. 
She likes that.  
I did mention something along the lines yesterday morning on our way down in the elevator to the effect that,  “It’s a shame that after that Honours Degree in Economics,  along with being a Certified Management Accountant,  that you end up being some guy’s taxi driver.”  But then she lucked out and gets to just sit and yak.
I mean,  I’ll drive her around,  and I’ve been known to go and fetch people at the airport,  whether they’re coming to visit us here personally,  or whether they’re co-workers.   The company is providing the car,  the fuel,  and my time is pretty much mine to do with as I please.   If I actually had a work permit,  I’d probably just drive cab,  since I speak better German than all of them and know the city better than half of them anyway.  Trust me on this one.   
I make sure I tell the cabbie just exactly which route he needs to take any time we get picked up at the airport.  I’ve tried all the variables,  and I don’t want to spend an extra 15 to 20 minutes taking some “short cut” that turns out to be anything but.
Again.  Trust me on that one too.
So I got back here to the lair in a reasonable amount of time this morning,  got the car tucked away in the underground parking garage,  but then ended up evaporating a considerable amount of time reading about some hapless soul somewhere in Michigan who very nearly ended up going to jail over a garden she planted in her front yard.  You think I’m kidding?  Just go to google and type in “Oakparkhatesveggies”,  and you too can waste your morning.   It so happens that her husband just recently had the good fortune to land a job in Seattle,  and their family will soon be leaving the cultural wasteland known as Oak Park.  It’s is a suburb of Detroit.  I think.  Not sure.  Don’t really care.
Now,  I could cry out,  “Only in America”,  but that wouldn’t be fair,  since there are pig headed bureaucrats just about anywhere in the “civilised”  world.   I seem to recall seeing something on Facebook the other day showing a by-law enforcement knob ticketing a vehicle in a “fire zone”,  all the while having parked his car in the same “fire zone”.  Nice.  An asshole,  AND a hypocrite.   Lovely combination.
For my part,  when it came to short term parking in our lovely home town of Burlington,  Ontario, I ALWAYS made sure I parked in the fire zone.   See,  having worked as a Head Caretaker for the school board,  and having phoned these people many,  many times,  I knew for a fact that if anyone actually called the by-law enforcement twits,  it would take more than two hours for them to show up.  If I was only parking for twenty minutes,  I was safe.  If a fire “broke out”,  I’d move my vehicle.   Has anyone ever been in a store in the middle of the day when a fire has broke out?  Not me,  that’s for sure.
Oh,  and if some busy body passer-by would try to admonish me for parking where I shouldn’t?  Well,  I’d give them the phone number of the by-law enforcement twits,  and suggest that they give them a call.   However,  I was quick to point out that,  they’d need to wait right there for them to show up.   Might be a couple hours.   I never had any takers.  Funny about that.
Whatever the fine is,  I’m sure it would be well worth it to have someone on hand to keep an eye on your truck while you run in to the store.   Yes?  Always nice to have one’s own personal security detail.

So having frittered away my morning,  I was LATE getting out for my walk today,  which meant that all the weirdoes and bums were out and about.  (there’s that expression again) 
That’ll teach me.  Need to get my butt in gear in the mornings!
I had the camera this time,  and there were many that could have been photographed,  but I only actually took a couple pictures that I felt were blog worthy.

When I came back this way,  she was gone.  I suspect that she has someone keeping an eye out for the cops.  Begging is actually not permitted (i.e. illegal) in Wienerland. 
You’ll notice that she has a sign there in front of her,  and I didn’t even have to read it,  since I already know it says something like, “I have three children and I’m sleeping on the street,  could you give me….”  Usually it’s “five cents”.   Not sure what five cents is going to do. 
Last night,  at around five I guess it was,  there were two of them on the other side of the street within twenty metres of each other.   One had “two children”,  the other had “three”.  The could have passed for sisters. I figured one of them should have been babysitting the other one’s kids,  but what do I know?   And no,  I don’t encourage them in any way,  shape or form.  This isn’t the Middle Ages,  and we do have social programs.  There,  I said it.
This is one of the underlying problems with having countries such as Bulgaria, Hungary and Romania as part of the EU.  They can come and go as they please,  and as near as we can tell,  these sorts are brought into the city en masse,  and dropped off for the day.    I’m sure this isn’t news to you.   Even without all the information that floats around either in the papers or on the net,  if you keep your eyes open,  eventually you start to figure out a couple things.    From my perch up on our “Terrasse”,  one floor above,  I witnessed one such beggar who hangs around in front of the grocery store down the street,  receive a visitor who,  for all intents and purposes seemed to be his “supervisor”.  The body language was a dead give away. 
There’s a whole “pecking order” it seems. 
Just an observation.

Well,  I suppose I’ve made you move your eyes back and forth quite enough.  I’m sure I could go on,  but I like to keep an eye on that “word count” thingy?  
Never a good idea to get too long winded.

Keep those sticks on the ice.


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Oompa Loompas in PJs

These sightings have absolutely nothing to do with the fact that it’s a full moon.  I’ve been meaning to mention Oompa Loompas for a while, and thought I’d put in a gratuitous shot of last night’s moon that appeared in the western sky right around sunset.
I’m a little bit “behind my times” this morning,  since I had a couple chores to sort out,  one of which was to fuel up the car and get it washed.  It wasn’t even that it was all that dirty, but I’d just as soon have it clean as not. 
It seems like every little thing was taking way too long this morning.  Drove around to the car wash “booth”,  or whatever you call it,  and there were two cars ahead of me,  which at a normal drive through type of car wash wouldn’t be that time consuming,  but here in Wienerland,  most of the car washes are of the goofy “drive you car in and leave it”  variety.

 Um,  I usually choose however to not stand with my nose pressed up against the door,  waiting for the wash cycle to finish?

The door will open automatically and you can then drive your car out.

 And this is why the whole procedure takes too damned long.

I think it’s even longer if you choose the spiffy-all-you-can-think-of wash,  where the car gets waxed and buffed,  with a big hug at the end.   OK,  maybe there’s no hug,  but I can’t really tell what’s going on in there.  All I know is,  the car gets reasonably clean at the end of the whole process.
So somehow my timing was such that,  I sat in a whole whack of traffic this morning trying to get back into the city.   Jumpin’ Dyna!  I guess it’s just because everyone is back from vacation or something,  but I’m going to try and not do that again for a while.   Especially since I didn’t get back here until about 9:30.  Geez.

Of course,  sitting in traffic does provide one with the opportunity to nab a photo now and again.

I don’t think you need a translation?

See,  this is how you end up looking like an Oompa Loompa.   Not sure what an Oompa Loompa looks like?   Remember “Willy Wonka and The Chocolate Factory”?
Ya,  those guys.
 

That’s Willy in the middle.  No relation to Malcolm.

I haven’t a clue what the deal is with the white eyebrows. It so happens I’m working on a couple of those myself.   In spite of this affliction of the nearly white eyebrows,  (since I’m not going to be using Grecian Formula any time soon) I have no desire to complement the look with a fake tan.
This cannot be said for just about every other young female on the streets of Vienna.  I’m not kidding.  Well,  they don't have the white eyebrows though.  Thankully.
I’ve been seeing them all summer.  It’s most noticeable in the early spring,  when everyone and their dog is pretty much pasty white.  The Austrians,  and Europeans in general I think,  do like to get their tans.   They’re also not overly keen on tan lines,  but that’s maybe a subject for another day.  Pretty sure there won’t be any photos.  Sorry.
To make matters slightly more entertaining,  I saw a couple Oompa Loompas just this morning wear what I swear to GOD were PJs!   Of course I know they weren’t wearing PJs,  since whatever it was,  was nicely tailored.  But my goodness!  (I'm trying to watch my language.   Lame,  I know)
I guess it was fashionable,  but that’s only a guess.   What is the thought process?  Where are their Mothers?   Do they not know how goofy they look?  
It’s kind of like those guys riding motorcycles where the handlebars are up higher than the top of my car?  Admittedly,  most of those fellows could stand to have copious amounts of fresh air wafting past their armpits,  judging by the looks of them.  OK so,  I’ll admit it,  maybe there’s some “functionality” in that form after all?
But the fake tan?  Sorry.  Just silly looking.

I failed to get any photos of actual Viennese Oompa Loompas,  since I started to have battery issues after taking the "Airbrush Tanning" photo.  If I thought it was worth the effort,  I’d go back out with the Nikon and the big lens,  but then I’d look too much like a tourist.

That’s not going to happen.

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