Dahlia Garden & other things

The dahlias area back at the garden plot adjacent the Conservatory of Flowers. When I think of dahlias, I tend to think of a big bloom with many, long, thing petals. -sort of the plant version of a sea anemone. This garden reminds me that dahlias come in many shapes and sizes.

Here's a selection of what I saw yesterday--

A highlight of last week was getting to cruise in my buddy's '67 convertible Corvette Stingray. Man, what a beautiful car! And fifty years later, the clock still works. I was impressed with the whole affair.

Anyone digging attention from strangers needs a vintage automobile. So many people waved, smiled, honked & flashed the peace sign (go figure) at my friend while we were out and about sans top. Of course, I wore sunblock for our jaunt.

Cleaning windows last week temporarily transported me back to CH. 1 August is Swiss National Day & these folk down in Belmont were representing! I wonder if they had a huge (unattended) bonfire in their back garden in celebration? ;)

Neuland

I went to a screening of the docu-film Neuland the other evening at the Goethe Institute. In 2013, Neuland opened in Basel, and, although I was still living in Zurich at the time, I didn't manage to see it. The film highlights the lives of a handful of younger refugees living in Basel-Stadt & Basel-Land who are attending a two-year training course as part of their language and cultural integration into Swiss life. Without this schooling, I dare say these young people would be lost. The film deals with the refugees' anxieties around finding employment, understanding Swiss German (the courses are conducted in Swiss German-inflected standard German), and, of course, understanding the Swiss mentality.

Some students fared better than others, in terms of integration, and that seemed to be down to a combination of personal drive, the ability to learn German fairly quickly, and by their not being too hampered by current circumstances. One of the school's instructors was also featured prominently in the film. He seemed such a caring sort, but he was also 'no bullshit'. At one point, he told a student (who'd been cutting class to work any menial job he could find) that in order for him to continue on with his schooling, he needed to sign a contract stating that he'd both be in class Monday through Friday & also not be late for said class. No exceptions. What he did at the weekend was, of course, up to him. The student owed a huge debt to his smugglers who were now seeking repayment, and, were they not to receive it within the specified time frame, were threatening to take away his family's land back in Afghanistan as punishment. The pressure this young man must have felt---I just can't imagine. The teacher told another student, a bright & lovely girl who had dreamt of becoming a teacher in her native Croatia, that her German was simply not good enough for the teacher training track. He encouraged her to find work as a carer instead. She did & she excelled in the position.

The end of the film also marked the end of school for this particular group of students. And, as is the Swiss way, graduation was celebrated with a lively lunch at a restaurant. There were many hugs, many tears & many expressions of both congratulations & gratitude.

The film is well worth a watch. Check it out, if you're inclined.

Coffee date.

The local historian aiding me with uncovering some nearly forgotten family information is actually friends with the woman, K., now living in the house that my great grandfather built just after the turn of the last century. The historian put us in touch a few weeks ago. Since then, she and I have been emailing a bit. She's shared some interesting information regarding what's gone on with the house since my family sold it in the 60s. Hippies in the 70s, she said, had bought the place & lived in it communally. At some point in the mid-70s, there had been a house fire that somewhat damaged the parquet flooring great grandpa Axel had laid down way back when.

Given that I was born after my great grandparents died, I don't have any first-hand information to share with the K. I do, however, have at least one old photo showing the facade of the house replete with a few generations of the family sitting cosily on the porch. Additionally, I have scads of pictures of the great grandparents, their siblings & offspring & those whom they married. I brought a few of those pictures over to my coffee date with her this afternoon. I learned a bit about her in the process. Interestingly, she is also an immigrant from Sweden just as my great grandparents were. Go figure?

The porch looks much the same is it did in the 40s when the picture below was taken. K. told me that Axel had lifted the house in order to accommodate & build garages for the two flats above. Until seeing the house, I hadn't really realised that the house was purpose built as a duplex. This new-found realisation explains why my Uncle had asked me which part of the house K. lived in. I said to him, 'The whole thing?' That was not true. K. has tenants below in the flat where my grandparents & the kids lived. I don't recall Dad ever telling me this, but I'm thankful I still have my Uncle to tell me things regarding his/their early life.

I put my Uncle, who lived in the downstairs flat with his brother (my Dad), another brother & their parents from '40 to '45, in contact with K., and, so far, it's been a profitable exchange. His memory has been jogged by her mentioning things about the house & giving name to the mostly forgotten Swedish dishes my Uncle's grandma used to prepare.

A shot of Crocker-Amazon/Excelsior, where my grandparents moved to after moving from Bernal Heights.

Swedes in Rockford, IL

K. was able to translate the postcard. Still not sure who the writer was as it was signed 'me'.

Swedes (and their spouses) on the porch

The great grandparents married in SF, early 1900s

I'll be scanning some of the above family photos for K's records. I'm glad to have made the connection with her.

Integration through language acquisition is key.

During our short trip to CH & DE in November, my husband and I were fortunate to have spent time with dear friends, A. & N., who are currently engaged in helping Syrian refugees integrate into German society. They are a married couple, he is German by way of Syria & she is Swabian.

N. does translation work (some gratis and some paid) at court, with social services, and for the occasional doctor visit. A. helps run a city-sponsored, weekly Sprach Café (language group) at a local community center. She bakes cakes and other treats to go along with the coffee normally served. Both A. & N. assist in finding accommodation for the newly arrived, and, in some cases, employment. To hear my friends talk about it, they find the work not only rewarding but vital.

The concept of a Sprach Café intrigued me & I wondered if there were anything like that happening in areas of the US where newly-arrived refugees are living. Off the top of my head, I don't think we've any 'language cafes' running here in the Bay Area, or, if there are, I'm not privy to them. (More to the point, do we even have any Syrians asylum seekers in this part of the country?) Tying language learning with social engagement only makes sense. One has to get a sense of language used in context in order to successfully progress in language acquisition. The whole thing just seems like a great way to improve language skills while, hopefully, expanding one's social circle.

After visiting with A. & N., we spent some time in Basel, our favorite Swiss city. I found this wee flyer on the counter by the espresso machine at one of our old haunts, Frühling, in Kleinbasel.

It reads:

Do you want to improve your German, meet other people & get to know other cultures? If so, then come to our language cafe. We're looking forward to having you!

Every other Friday at Café Frühling...

It's good to know folk in Basel are also getting in on language support for those in need. The difference between what A. is involved with and what's happening at Frühling is that the Swiss effort is privately sponsored. I know this because I asked the gal making my espresso drinks ALL about the flyer. She explained that the Sprach Café is organized by two women who foot the bill for filter coffee for the 20 person+ group. -such a great idea. Honestly, I could have benefitted from one such group during my time in Zurich. There were a few language meet-ups around, but they were held at fairly busy pubs, and, often, it was just plain hard to hear what was being said. For a language practice group, a raucous bar environment just isn't ideal. I get that some of us language learners like a bit of 'liquid courage' when practicing a foreign tongue, but if you can't hear what's being said, then it all just amounts to a night out drinking.

Here's to those new arrivals finding their footing in German & Swiss German society. May their language acquisition be as enjoyable as possible! Viel Spass und viel Erfolg!

Trip to DE & CH

The hubs and I took a brief trip to Europe the week of the US elections. However, given that the news outlets in Germany are on top of broadcasting about world events, we could not avoid hearing & reading about the Trump win. Donald's mug adorned nearly every magazine & newspaper cover in Germany & German Switzerland. It was off-putting to see him 'round every corner, to say the least.

'How dangerous is the new president?'

Highlights of the trip were jaunts to Basel, Konstanz & Zürich. Here are a few select photos--

Altstadt, Konstanz

Am Bodensee with friends.

Konstanz, as the Bodensee meets the Rhein

Along the Limmat, Zürich, Switzerland

Limmat, Zürich

Stroll along the Rhein, Basel

Gulls along the Rhein, Basel

En route to the Botanic Garden, Basel

Altstadt, Basel

Picked up this lively print while in Basel

Checking out walking sticks at a charity shop in Basel

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Yours truly on the Red Arrow Churchill from Zürich to Schaffhausen

I miss our life in Europe & would hope to return to live there, but, at present, a move does not seem feasible. Would that it were...!

Mistakes were made.

Ich: 'Entschuldigung. Ich habe mich getäuscht'.  I'm sorry. I made a mistake/I was wrong.

Sie: 'So ist das. Die Deutschen täuschen sich oft.' That's how it is.  Germans often make mistakes/are wrong.

I'd say homegirl made a mistake as I am not German.  I always find it interesting when Swiss Germans think I'm German.  I don't flatter myself by thinking that my German is so stellar that I can pass for a native speaker.  It would seem that some Swiss Germans don't have much contact, I guess, with actual native German speakers from north of the border, so that they confuse me for one.  It's either that or they must think I'm from some part of Germany where people make a lot grammatical errors and have a funny accent.  Where would that be?  Fehlerstadt?   In the land of Amistein? 

I thought her response to my admitting fault humourous.  What prompted the above short exchange is not so funny, however.  Toward the end of my shift today at the Chleider-Lädeli a couple of very intoxicated women came in to look for winter garments and sleeping-bags.  The two were a bit volatile and, truly, did not give a fuck.  My co-worker and I thought it best to let them browse on their own and we returned to unpacking the mound of donations piled high in the middle of the floor.  At one point one of the women came to me and asked if she could take a wheelie bag for shopping that she'd found.  I had mistakenly thought that the bag was part of the mound of donations and gave her the affirmative.  Some time later I returned from taking out the trash to find a bundled-up, bespectacled, older woman, head covered in a scarf, crying by the front door.  Beyond her I could see one of the drunk ladies yelling that the wheelie bag was HERS and that this woman had tried to take it from her.  Instantly, I knew I that that bag belonged to the woman with the head scarf and that I had made a mistake.  Trying to rectify the situation, I told the Swiss woman that she could not have the bag as it belonged to the other woman.  'NO! It's MINE!' came the response.  As I tried to shepherd out the woman with her wheelie bag the outraged, intoxicated woman thought it best to stop us.  Getting as close as she could to the crying woman, for I was standing between them with one arm raised in order to block the interaction, she began to rant.  That only produced more tears from wheelie-bag woman.  I then called for back-up from the main office.  Help came promptly and the irate woman was made to go outside and 'talk it out'.  Before talking came yelling and, occasionally, pounding on the glass door to be let back in.  All the while the woman whose bag it was sat and quietly cried.  I patted her back gently and told her that it would be all right.  I don't think that she believed me.  Worse for her is that she is one of a few clients who don't speak German and there was no one in the shop at the time who could speak with her.  I switched from German to English, as I do when I am stressed, and kept repeating 'it's going to be all right'.  It probably did me more good than her.  Poor thing.

In the end, all was all right.  The woman left with her wheelie bag after the Swiss woman was made to apologise.  A co-worker sat with her at the bus stop while she waited for the no. 33 to take her home. 

Paris in Winter...

George Washington storming Paris.

I am fairly cold, but not the only one slogging her way through town, gloves and scarf firmly on hands and head.  The bonus of visiting Paris in Winter is that I don't have to share my favorite places with the world.  It would seem that the smarter folk have stayed home.  Either that or they are visiting other sites.  

Front

Back

Scratch what I said, I was just walking past the Picasso Museum at ten am this morning and saw a line down the block of coat-wearing art fans waiting patiently to be let in.  I think I'll skip it this time.

There were a few toughies trouping through Pere Lachais when I was there.  God bless 'em as it was freezing.  Finding the grave of 'Gyyym Morrrisson' was on the minds of some.   I did not have the heart to tell them that ole Jim had his head stone moved to keep over-zealous fans from burning weed in his honor and dumping roaches and empty booze bottles around his final resting place.

If only it gave off heat.

The Musée d'Orsay, always a must-see, did not have throngs in front of it when I arrived around 4.30 in the afternoon.  Getting past security, like at an airport, was something that I had not expected.  Things had changed since I last visited in 2005.  At least the man looking through my hand bag was pleasant.  Smiling, he offered me a tray on which I was to put my keys and loose pocket change.  All this just to see some post-Impressionists.

Brocki 'find' #3

Der Mosaiktisch der 50ern...

I'd like to think that this tile top table was generated as a result of the Economic Miracle that took hold of post WW II Germany.

When looking for like tables from mosiac pattern to markings on the bottom side of the table-top, I came up fairly short-handed.  It would appear that this table did indeed come from a maker in Germany ca. 1950s.  More information I could not discern.  Any thoughts, folks?

Aerial view...