Reflections and Observations -- A Bright Passage from the Fantasies of Youth
to Illuminations of Advanced Maturity!
This Episode:
Heartburn and other stomach disorders are not exclusively the province of the elderly, or those of us currently experiencing the joys of GeezerHood!
SweetHeart was at one point in her various superb careers, a Flight Attendant. She flew for United Airlines. As such, in our early years of marriage, we could fly like pelicans, unfettered by such impediments as airfares... well, practically!
On our honeymoon -- that was prior to the onset of GeezerHood, but, after all, one can still recall those blissful days of callow youth -- we decided to jet off to Greece, or Hellas, visit the glories of Athens, as well a few of the Greek Islands. What the heck does that have to do with HeartBurn?? Well... lemme explain.
Athens is replete with what I call "Sidewalk Emporiums," at which one can purchase an array of necessaries, including remedies for the body. On a particular evening, out for dinner and a stroll near the Acropolis, I had a nasty bout with heartburn. Never traveling without my handy language guides, including a Berlitz Book of Greek, on this occasion, perhaps needless to add, I looked up "heartburn." No listing. I then paged to the index to find "antacids." No listing. Trying a few other obtuse combinations of Greek words, I finally settled upon the words, "Heart" and "Fire."
I announced in my finest baritone broadcast voice, hand over my left chest, "Heartfire"! The young woman who staffed the emporium looked at me as if I were making an unwanted romantic overture, her face a mask of shock and discomfort. SweetHeart yanked me by the arm and hustled me away from the young woman and her sidewalk shop. "She has to think you're some kind of crazed masher," said SweetHeart. "Let's get the heck away
from here before she calls the local police!" We departed briskly.
On a subsequent evening, enjoying an "Athens By Night" adventure, along with an international throng of fellow visitors to that ancient land, we told the story of "Heartfire," with many translations and belated laughter arcing and echoing through the crowd. As the merriment began to diminish, an English couple approached SweetHeart and me, and deposited several antacids into my open and grateful palm.
********************************************************************************
Our elder daughter spent a couple of years in Estonia during her Peace Corps tenure. We visited her in the month of February, early in the 2000's. Estonia was not in full bloom at the time, but seeing our wonderful daughter, a photogravure palette of grey and a continuous whispy snowfall made the entire experience delightful and beautiful, an artwork of muted color.
We settled into Saaremaa, the island off the west coast of Estonia, in the Baltic Sea, where our daughter was based. She taught, sang and volunteered her time and talent generously for young and old alike, anyone in need. After seeing the sights and delights of the Island, we ferried ourselves to the mainland, rented a vehicle and motored off to see her fellow Peace Corps friends in Tartu and Tallinn.
On the road, we passed through a small village, a bit too fast, and were halted in our progress by an Estonian policeman who "waved" us down using a long pole, at the end of which was a circular symbol. I believe the symbol indicated excessive haste! I did not have a phrase book of Estonian. No one spoke. Using a kind of friendly sign language, the policeman and I, that is, I agreed not to speed anymore while the nice official agreed not to assess an enormous fine! It was the first time in my driving experience that I was "pulled over" by a standing policeman armed with a long pole and a sign at the top!
Our daughter, Bethie, was with SweetHeart, our Peace Corps daughter, Alie, and me. Bethie made a great and loving impression on everyone we encountered, building relationships and friendships that have endured, even today, nearly 20 years after the fact! We met Alie's wonderful and talented friends, learned a bit of Estonian, had a kind of pizza in Tartu and generally enjoyed a delicious and highly memorable adventure. Oh, and "pannenkoeken"! A kind of bread-y pancake-y treat that's found everywhere in Estonia... (The Netherlands, too, we're reliably told!) And, we met Alie's Estonian host family. Wonderful people who enjoyed Alie, her sense of humor and her sometimes stumbling efforts to learn the Estonian language, something she eventually mastered, still uses speaking with native Estonian friends.
I should mention that Alie was in Estonia and Saaremaa during the "Nine-Eleven" crisis, and was told to "maintain a low profile," as Americans were thought to be in peril during that period of time. She didn't. She wrote and recorded her own compositions, including a couple of Estonian folk ballads, and created a wonderful CD of songs. She was interviewed and landed on the front page of certain Estonian newspapers. Not exactly a low profile, but she achieved well-deserved fame and praise, donating the proceeds from the sales of her CD to the Estonian Children's Fund.
*********************************************************************************
Sometime in the mid 2000's, following her time in the Peace Corps, Alie and her now husband, Tad (a remarkably fine man, I have to admit!), decided to cross the Atlantic and visit her various Peace Corps veteran friends. She had a place to stay everywhere they went, except for France, where the friend, living with parents, did not have suitable accommodations to house
her family. She asked if we might be interested in a trip to France, specifically the Dordogne Region, the "Smile of France," demarcated slendidly by the river of the same name. We billeted in an old bakery building, containing an enormous fireplace, lots of bedrooms for all of us, and even a swimming pool in the back garden. The "all" included grandson, Coen, at the time not quite three years old, and a terrific traveling companion!
We, SweetHeart and I, took a few basic lessons in French before departing on our journey. The airline lost all of our luggage, or most of it, necessitating a shopping episode in Paris. Thanks to the lessons, we navigated rather successfully through the shops and markets. At one large department store, we stopped to purchase... Well, I asked a clerk, "Avez vous une costume du plage?" To which the patient shop attendant responded in perfect English, "You know, we do have a word for bathing suit, monsieur."
"Uh, " said I, a bit red in the face, "Ou est le cabine d'essayage?" I don't think she was impressed, but pointed me to the "fitting room." I also found the underwear department, with a little help from my phrase book! "Vetements pour ma femme?... Tout coton, s'il vous plait!"
And... a very memorable occasion on which the use of the French language bore sweet fruit: SweetHeart drew a warm hug from an older woman in Tremolat, asking first, "Do you speak any English?" The woman shook her head, confused. Then, SweetHeart asked in perfect French, "Ou est le bibliotheque la plus proche?" The old woman beamed, and embraced SweetHeart as if she, SweetHeart, were a long-lost daughter! (The small village did not have a library, however!). Such are the rewards and wonders of attempting to communicate with native people in their own language, especially meaningful and important when in their own lands!! The village of Tremolat, by the by, had some of the most delectable baked goods we'd ever tasted! "Ou est encore cette le boulangerie?"
(Special Note of Dedication: To all the good and gracious people of countries visited over the seas whose patience and understanding made our travels so satisfying, gratifying and edifying... We thank you most sincerely! You enriched the experiences far more than we can adequately express!)
What Was That I Said? or, One's Brilliant (mis-) Understanding of Foreign Tongues!... More Travels / Overseas Edition!
Heartburn and other stomach disorders are not exclusively the province of the elderly, or those of us currently experiencing the joys of GeezerHood!
SweetHeart was at one point in her various superb careers, a Flight Attendant. She flew for United Airlines. As such, in our early years of marriage, we could fly like pelicans, unfettered by such impediments as airfares... well, practically!
On our honeymoon -- that was prior to the onset of GeezerHood, but, after all, one can still recall those blissful days of callow youth -- we decided to jet off to Greece, or Hellas, visit the glories of Athens, as well a few of the Greek Islands. What the heck does that have to do with HeartBurn?? Well... lemme explain.
Athens is replete with what I call "Sidewalk Emporiums," at which one can purchase an array of necessaries, including remedies for the body. On a particular evening, out for dinner and a stroll near the Acropolis, I had a nasty bout with heartburn. Never traveling without my handy language guides, including a Berlitz Book of Greek, on this occasion, perhaps needless to add, I looked up "heartburn." No listing. I then paged to the index to find "antacids." No listing. Trying a few other obtuse combinations of Greek words, I finally settled upon the words, "Heart" and "Fire."
I announced in my finest baritone broadcast voice, hand over my left chest, "Heartfire"! The young woman who staffed the emporium looked at me as if I were making an unwanted romantic overture, her face a mask of shock and discomfort. SweetHeart yanked me by the arm and hustled me away from the young woman and her sidewalk shop. "She has to think you're some kind of crazed masher," said SweetHeart. "Let's get the heck away
On a subsequent evening, enjoying an "Athens By Night" adventure, along with an international throng of fellow visitors to that ancient land, we told the story of "Heartfire," with many translations and belated laughter arcing and echoing through the crowd. As the merriment began to diminish, an English couple approached SweetHeart and me, and deposited several antacids into my open and grateful palm.
********************************************************************************
Our elder daughter spent a couple of years in Estonia during her Peace Corps tenure. We visited her in the month of February, early in the 2000's. Estonia was not in full bloom at the time, but seeing our wonderful daughter, a photogravure palette of grey and a continuous whispy snowfall made the entire experience delightful and beautiful, an artwork of muted color.
On the road, we passed through a small village, a bit too fast, and were halted in our progress by an Estonian policeman who "waved" us down using a long pole, at the end of which was a circular symbol. I believe the symbol indicated excessive haste! I did not have a phrase book of Estonian. No one spoke. Using a kind of friendly sign language, the policeman and I, that is, I agreed not to speed anymore while the nice official agreed not to assess an enormous fine! It was the first time in my driving experience that I was "pulled over" by a standing policeman armed with a long pole and a sign at the top!
 |
| Pannenkoeken! Oh, and Berries! |
I should mention that Alie was in Estonia and Saaremaa during the "Nine-Eleven" crisis, and was told to "maintain a low profile," as Americans were thought to be in peril during that period of time. She didn't. She wrote and recorded her own compositions, including a couple of Estonian folk ballads, and created a wonderful CD of songs. She was interviewed and landed on the front page of certain Estonian newspapers. Not exactly a low profile, but she achieved well-deserved fame and praise, donating the proceeds from the sales of her CD to the Estonian Children's Fund. *********************************************************************************
Sometime in the mid 2000's, following her time in the Peace Corps, Alie and her now husband, Tad (a remarkably fine man, I have to admit!), decided to cross the Atlantic and visit her various Peace Corps veteran friends. She had a place to stay everywhere they went, except for France, where the friend, living with parents, did not have suitable accommodations to house
We, SweetHeart and I, took a few basic lessons in French before departing on our journey. The airline lost all of our luggage, or most of it, necessitating a shopping episode in Paris. Thanks to the lessons, we navigated rather successfully through the shops and markets. At one large department store, we stopped to purchase... Well, I asked a clerk, "Avez vous une costume du plage?" To which the patient shop attendant responded in perfect English, "You know, we do have a word for bathing suit, monsieur."
"Uh, " said I, a bit red in the face, "Ou est le cabine d'essayage?" I don't think she was impressed, but pointed me to the "fitting room." I also found the underwear department, with a little help from my phrase book! "Vetements pour ma femme?... Tout coton, s'il vous plait!" And... a very memorable occasion on which the use of the French language bore sweet fruit: SweetHeart drew a warm hug from an older woman in Tremolat, asking first, "Do you speak any English?" The woman shook her head, confused. Then, SweetHeart asked in perfect French, "Ou est le bibliotheque la plus proche?" The old woman beamed, and embraced SweetHeart as if she, SweetHeart, were a long-lost daughter! (The small village did not have a library, however!). Such are the rewards and wonders of attempting to communicate with native people in their own language, especially meaningful and important when in their own lands!! The village of Tremolat, by the by, had some of the most delectable baked goods we'd ever tasted! "Ou est encore cette le boulangerie?"
(Special Note of Dedication: To all the good and gracious people of countries visited over the seas whose patience and understanding made our travels so satisfying, gratifying and edifying... We thank you most sincerely! You enriched the experiences far more than we can adequately express!)
Humbly Submitted, 12-07-19 -- Joel K.
