English Foreign countries - foreign customs
Siesta
As I step out of the plane onto the platform, a bright sun blinds me until my glasses get darker. My hand feels for the railing and carefully I descend the swaying metal stairs to the airfield. I am flooded with such warmth that I would like to take off my thick winter coat, but I have to keep one hand free so that I can hold onto the already waiting transport bus. A bag is rammed into my back, I feel a strange breath on my neck like a warm draft, an intrusive aftershave tingles my nose. Then the bus finally jerks and I clutch a handrail with my free hand. Still, I'm thrown back and forth against the arms, shoulders and upper bodies of my neighbors. I breathe a sigh of relief when the bus finally stops in front of an entrance door to the airport building after a long criss-cross. Close to each other, people crowd with their hand luggage through the far too narrow entrance like a herd of muttons into the pferch. My body is triggered in so many places that I can no longer perceive individual touches. I swim in a flood of people. In the dense crowd I get warmer and warmer and the hand luggage is getting heavier. I'm slightly asthmatic as it goes up several steps. Finally, the crowd is distributed in a large hall, where six conveyor belts make their rounds. My eyes are looking in vain for an electronic display that could lead me to my baggage belt. The billboards are empty. I line up with the other passengers on a running belt and look exspectently at the rubber curtains through which the luggage has to be smuggled through. A little boy has sat on the tape and happily rolls towards the curtains, but at the last moment is fished away by his dad before disappearing in the belly of the luggage compartment.
Then the tapes roll and roll around empty again. Suddenly a jerk goes through the hall and all the belts stand still. I turn to the lady next to me and ask nervously, "What's that?" "Siesta," she replies laconically.. "Siesta?" I reply. She laughs: "you are definitely the first time in this country, aren’t you? Now you have the choice whether you want to get annoyed or keep siesta." I need a little moment to process my astonishment and anger. My tongue sticks to the palate, I sweat and I'm thirsty. Then I decide for siesta, take off my winter coat, roll it together, lean it against the conveyor railing in front of my hand luggage and sit on the cool marble floor, the coat as a soft support cushion in the back. I close my eyes, breathe deeply in and out. Only now do I notice the tension throughout the body, which slowly dissolves. The tangle of voices around me fades, I fall asleep: Siesta....
Dear Donna R,
thanks a lot for your excellent description of that NON-GERMAN situation! Being on a holiday I always like and adore the difference (to German) in southern characters.
And as far as I can judge, your English is brilliant - like an essay of a native speaker!
I do hope to read more from you - it's pleasure for me!
Good bye, Donna! Yours Rosemare
Thank you , dear Rosemare. Normally I write tankas. What do you think of this one:
Sincerely
Ingrid
Arrive in Shanghai
According to the travel description, our trip should lead us on the Yangtze River from Chongqin in the west through the three gorges via Wuhan and Nanking to Shanghai. I was really looking forward to the steamer entering the port of Shanghai, because I found the loop of the Huangpu - that's the name of the river in the Yangtze estuary - around the futuristic skyline of the Pudong district even more exciting than the illustrations Entering New York Harbor past the Statue of Liberty. But then, unfortunately, a few hours after Nanking, we were told that Shanghai was threatened by a typhoon, so the ship had to dock and we would be taken to Shanghai by bus. Since there was no autumn breeze, we took it for a lie. But none of us was able to prove a falsification of the Chinese weather report. The bus ride took us for several hours through a flat wasteland, not a tree, not a bush, not even a blade of grass could be seen. I was amazed at this desolation, which to my knowledge does not exist anywhere in Germany, and already felt a slight longing for the green hills of the lovely Weserbergland. Finally I fell asleep.
When I woke up, the bus was driving on an elevated road that wound in sweeping curves like a roller coaster around a large cluster of high houses. The view was unspectacular, because this type of apartment block can be found all over the world. After checking in at the hotel, I decided to discover old and new Shanghai on my own. I had a taxi called at reception to take me to the Bund. As a precaution, I had the name and address of the hotel written down in Chinese characters on a piece of paper, because I knew that I would become illiterate as soon as I left the hotel lobby.
The Bund is a waterfront promenade on the Huangpu River lined with grand old colonial buildings. The oldest building is the British Consulate built in 1873. The Peace Hotel, built in 1926, is also famous. The hotel's lobby and ballroom bear witness to a bygone colonial mansion. The following sign is said to have hung on the entrance door to a small park in 1910: "Forbidden for dogs and Chinese!"
In conversation with our tour guide, who spoke quite tolerable English but was not particularly polite and carefully, I occasionally had the impression that the colonial era has left imprints on the self-confidence of the Chinese to this day. I was sitting on a step of the Great Wall of China with my camera at the ready when he approached me and asked what I was doing. I replied, laughing, "I'm hunting Chinese!" That seemed to have hit him hard. While walking on the Bund, I was suddenly surrounded by a large group of Chinese who all had their cameras pointed at my face and didn't want to stop taking pictures. In the middle of this group I discovered our guide.
Not only tourists but also many Chinese can be found on the Bund. I found the extraordinary elegance of the small Chinese women very impressive. Such elegance only existed with us in the post-war period, when Dior's Paris fashion made a splash. Suddenly I was ashamed of my tousled hair and crumpled tourist clothes.
Other Chinese people were not dressed quite as elegantly, but were very relaxed practicing Tai Chi in public in a completely uninhibited manner. Their slow flowing movements exuded a great stillness. I watched a Tai Chi group for a while and then realized how tired I was.
On the Bund you can look to the other bank of the Huangpu River, which is lined with the modern skyscrapers of Pudong. This view is particularly spectacular at night when the buildings are illuminated with colorful lights. I decided to go back to the hotel - and after a nap- come back again to enjoy the view of Pudong in the dark.
Where is Pudong, I wonder? These huge constructions make me think of China, or maybe Japan? I wouldn't trust this gigantic elevator to bring me up to that tempting
supper high up in sky.
My dear, I do like to look at all those interesting photos or read about the Far-East-Journeys! But I have none what-so-ever desire to experience such a holiday by myself. I love my Bavaria and the near foreign contries - that's enough for me.
I know, I am very old-fashioned, but thus I feel good. Rosemarie
Pudong is a part of the megalopolis Shanghai in China. Pudong is across the river on the other side of the famous street Bund where tourists love to walk. The last of my pictures of Pudong was taken looking down the 25 floors of a supermodern hotel. Deep down there is the reception floor. What a sight. I did not sleep in that hotel.
You are right, dear Rosemarie, Bavaria is a good place to live in or for travelling although I prefer Schleswig-Holstein which has been my home since 1958.
Greetings from jacaré4/Udo
Thank you for explaining! You put in such a delicate flower. I think, it could be a sea anemone - similar to our 'Seerose'. It is beautiful! Rosemarie