Erika's Memoires: Leseprobe aus meinem Buch "Die Glastrennwand"
dow...: Leseprobe aus meinem Buch "Die Glastrennwand" download at Amazon.de or Amazon.com as Kindle e.book
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Serviettenknödel
My son let (of course through his wife) put in a request ( 5 days before Christmas .... and I still have to drive for a whole day to arrive in Calgary on time) for real Bohemian Dumplings which you wrap in a cotton napkin.
I did not cook them for several years. I made the dough: you have to beat the dough until it looks like having bladders. I took a whole full scoop of flour because the Servietten Knödel were ment for Christmas Eve as a side dish to the Turkey.
Soon I realised it was to much dough to work it thoroughfully, so I parted it in two halfes, then mixed both parts wit the breadcubes.
The pot with saltwater boiled already. I took a nice new never used dish towel as a napkin and wound the dough into the napkin, then laid it in the pot to boil, at least for half an hour. Soon I became aware of the water turning yellowish. The towe,l being brandnew lost colour, seeping into the dumpling. I took the dumpling out, renewed the water, let the dumpling simmer again. The water turned yellowish. Finally I cooked the dumlping without napkin. Finally, it was not finally yet. The dumpling seemed to be still raw. Another half hour of boiling. It still looked raw.
I will have roasted dumplings for quite a while,
and I will start making some new Serviettenknödel.....tomorrow.
It shows how nicely you can kill a boring day.
I did not cook them for several years. I made the dough: you have to beat the dough until it looks like having bladders. I took a whole full scoop of flour because the Servietten Knödel were ment for Christmas Eve as a side dish to the Turkey.
Soon I realised it was to much dough to work it thoroughfully, so I parted it in two halfes, then mixed both parts wit the breadcubes.
The pot with saltwater boiled already. I took a nice new never used dish towel as a napkin and wound the dough into the napkin, then laid it in the pot to boil, at least for half an hour. Soon I became aware of the water turning yellowish. The towe,l being brandnew lost colour, seeping into the dumpling. I took the dumpling out, renewed the water, let the dumpling simmer again. The water turned yellowish. Finally I cooked the dumlping without napkin. Finally, it was not finally yet. The dumpling seemed to be still raw. Another half hour of boiling. It still looked raw.
I will have roasted dumplings for quite a while,
and I will start making some new Serviettenknödel.....tomorrow.
It shows how nicely you can kill a boring day.
Saturday, October 22, 2011
One Hundred's Birthday
Lioness Renate said, that’s a story for our newspaper, so here it goes:
My aunt in Toronto had her 100 th! Birthday April 30,2008.
I intended to visit her and celebrate the event with other family members. So I phoned my cousin, and told her about my idea. Great, the weekend would be fine, she will give me further notice, was her response.
I didn’t hear from her. So I went ahead and booked with AIR MILES, only some few seats were available for the weekend, and e.mailed her my arrivel and departure time. She is still stewardess and I figured out that she would know where to go. Of a sudden I got a furious response by phone: Erika, you have to cancel your flight, you can’t come, the time is too short, the care-home closes at 8 pm, I will not pick you up and bring you back to the airport, she also involved my other cousin in Seattle, who happened to be in a Boeing meeting. Now both of them advised me strongly, not to go at all.
Of course I would go, on my own. I looked into a Toronto City Map and realized that auntie’s home was on the other end of the metropolitan, in Scarborough. The situation promised to become an “amazing race”.
I left my home in Westbank Saturday morning, parked my car at Kelwona Airport, security took my tea, but left me my cake, boarded the plane to Calgary, changed plane for Toronto, raced levels up and down to catch the bus to downtown Toronto-Union Station. Now find the Go-Train, the ticket counter, the right track. I must have looked so desperate, that people asked me, whether they could help, they ran with me for a while or pointed into the right direction for the train. I left the train at Guildwood Station, searching for a taxi. Just then, miraculously, dashed a white cab around the corner. I asked the driver to take me to the care-home….and 5 minutes to 8 pm we arrived there, I asked the cabby to wait for me, ran to the reception desk , introduced myself and the receptionist stormed with me through the corridors to my auntie’s room. I am not sure, whether my aunt recognized me, with 100 years of age everything gets a bit blurry, I guess….but I did my best to make her feel comfortable…the flowers which were sent already from Kelowna brightened the room. For me it was saying Good bye,…….Good bye to the last one of a whole generation. Then it was time to leave. I went back with the taxi to Guildwood Station, and from there again to the airport.
Already in our new BCCA –office in Westbank I had booked a Best Western Airport hotel. Lots of people crowded into the airport-shuttle bus, so we put our luggage in the back. As soon as we departed, the bus driver informed us about two Best Western Airport hotels in Toronto and whether we were sure to sit in the right bus for the right one. I was unable to confirm, because I could not reach my luggage. Of course, It was the wrong Hotel. It took a while to get transferred to the already booked hotel, but this didn’t matter so much any more, with mission accomplished. Shortly before 11 pm I arrived at the new location, but now I felt hungry and thirsty. The restaurant was closed already, but the lounge was just about to close at 11. So I went straight into there; and…… was greeted with open arms, Greek music, wine, a party, I just wondered when the Greeks would start throwing their plates! But everything comes to an end; and I fell finally into my bed.
On the next morning I had a complimentary breakfast, took the shuttle bus to the airport, boarded the flight to Kelowna and was back in Westbank in the afternoon, working a bit in my garden.
Had I really been there, or was it just a dream?
My aunt in Toronto had her 100 th! Birthday April 30,2008.
I intended to visit her and celebrate the event with other family members. So I phoned my cousin, and told her about my idea. Great, the weekend would be fine, she will give me further notice, was her response.
I didn’t hear from her. So I went ahead and booked with AIR MILES, only some few seats were available for the weekend, and e.mailed her my arrivel and departure time. She is still stewardess and I figured out that she would know where to go. Of a sudden I got a furious response by phone: Erika, you have to cancel your flight, you can’t come, the time is too short, the care-home closes at 8 pm, I will not pick you up and bring you back to the airport, she also involved my other cousin in Seattle, who happened to be in a Boeing meeting. Now both of them advised me strongly, not to go at all.
Of course I would go, on my own. I looked into a Toronto City Map and realized that auntie’s home was on the other end of the metropolitan, in Scarborough. The situation promised to become an “amazing race”.
I left my home in Westbank Saturday morning, parked my car at Kelwona Airport, security took my tea, but left me my cake, boarded the plane to Calgary, changed plane for Toronto, raced levels up and down to catch the bus to downtown Toronto-Union Station. Now find the Go-Train, the ticket counter, the right track. I must have looked so desperate, that people asked me, whether they could help, they ran with me for a while or pointed into the right direction for the train. I left the train at Guildwood Station, searching for a taxi. Just then, miraculously, dashed a white cab around the corner. I asked the driver to take me to the care-home….and 5 minutes to 8 pm we arrived there, I asked the cabby to wait for me, ran to the reception desk , introduced myself and the receptionist stormed with me through the corridors to my auntie’s room. I am not sure, whether my aunt recognized me, with 100 years of age everything gets a bit blurry, I guess….but I did my best to make her feel comfortable…the flowers which were sent already from Kelowna brightened the room. For me it was saying Good bye,…….Good bye to the last one of a whole generation. Then it was time to leave. I went back with the taxi to Guildwood Station, and from there again to the airport.
Already in our new BCCA –office in Westbank I had booked a Best Western Airport hotel. Lots of people crowded into the airport-shuttle bus, so we put our luggage in the back. As soon as we departed, the bus driver informed us about two Best Western Airport hotels in Toronto and whether we were sure to sit in the right bus for the right one. I was unable to confirm, because I could not reach my luggage. Of course, It was the wrong Hotel. It took a while to get transferred to the already booked hotel, but this didn’t matter so much any more, with mission accomplished. Shortly before 11 pm I arrived at the new location, but now I felt hungry and thirsty. The restaurant was closed already, but the lounge was just about to close at 11. So I went straight into there; and…… was greeted with open arms, Greek music, wine, a party, I just wondered when the Greeks would start throwing their plates! But everything comes to an end; and I fell finally into my bed.
On the next morning I had a complimentary breakfast, took the shuttle bus to the airport, boarded the flight to Kelowna and was back in Westbank in the afternoon, working a bit in my garden.
Had I really been there, or was it just a dream?
Labels: Onehundredst Birthday
Another travel story
Here is another one of my travel stories.
This summer I visited my family in Bavaria. We celebrated my 70. Birthday in Italy. My daughter works for a pharmaceutical company, visiting clinics. So she took me quite often with her, dropped me off in a city’s downtown area and picked me up again, when she was done with her job. I saw Bayreuth, Munich, Regensburg, Rosenheim and made trips on my own to Salzburg and Prague.
Then it was time to leave. For a long flight it's advisable to wear Supporting Stockings, but I could not find them any more, they must have disappeared in the laundry, anyways, so I bought quickly some new ones.
On the next morning I dressed for the departure. I felt the supporting stockings already slipping. My daughter said: "you have to saw them on your slip." So I did exactly what she suggested.
We had a nice, relaxing trip to the airport Munich. This was the last relaxing time for a while.
Arriving at the Air Canada Check-in, I was told that I was on the stand-by list, no reason given why. Christine got very angry and threatened with a lawyer right away. Well, I should go straight to the departure gate and see what will happen. Because I did not have my glasses ready, I asked Christine for the # of the gate. She said: # H 48.
After an emotional goodbye I went for the security check. With last minute re-arranging of the luggage for weight restrictions I put my laptop in the carry-on bag. It became very inconvenient; because it had to be screened separately every time. I also carried some beautiful, heavy; nevertheless fragile glass fruits with me, which I wanted to give to my daughter Veronika as a present. She was taking care of my dog Hector while I was gone, and I would take Hector back with me to Kelowna.
But back to Munich: I searched for gate H 48. I walked and walked until I stood at the US destination gate. This was not right. I had to go back to gate H 34. While walking, I felt those damned Supporting Socks slipping again, now only the top pants held them up. And then the carry-on bag on top of the other one started to slide as well, and as often as I tried, I could not hold anything in place.
Finally I arrived at the Toronto departure gate. “Step back and wait, I was told” I had to wait to the last minute for a seat. In between I managed to go to the washroom, ripped the stockings off and wore only my shoes.
In the airplane I sat besides a nice gentleman who told me that he had to cancel the flight for his sick wife, therefore the seat was vacant.
Arriving in Toronto you have to declare your luggage at customs. Mine was spit out last. Then there was a long line up at customs. When I arrived at the next Air Canada Check-in for a new boarding card, I was told that the airplane had already left. I was boarded for the next flight to Calgary, again only on the waiting list. The flight was filled to capacity. I phoned my daughter Veronika in Fort McLeod that I will not make it to Kelowna tonight, I would check into a hotel in Calgary.
The next flight had only one seat available at the back where the crew usually sits.
So I wiggled myself with the heavy carry-on to that seat and arrived at midnight in Calgary. It made me almost sick just to think on my other luggage, I had no idea where it was and frankly at this point I did not care any more.
Stepping out of the airport building, I spotted one single shuttle bus, and the driver brought me to their hotel. I checked in, went upstairs, and slid the card in the door of my room. But it was new to me, that you also needed the card to switch the lights on. So I stood there for a while until I figured out how it worked.
I watched myself in the mirror. Where did I get so dirty? My hands, fingernails were black, my travel bag dirty. Taking off my coat I saw my beautiful pink cashmere sweater had a bluish shine to it. What happened? The newly bought coat lost color!
Then I opened my carry on suitcase. With moving stuff back and forth for the proper weight, I could not remember any more what was inside. But the first thing I took out was a brand new nighty from Josefine, a freshly washed slip which Christine had put in the bag, another sweater and even some socks!
I felt so good, that I fell instantly asleep.
And on the next morning the laptop which had bothered me all the time, came really handy. I looked for connection flights and phoned for reservations, only to be told, that I would be on the standby list. But I phoned Veronika, and she would come in the afternoon with the dog.
I had to search for my luggage, so I went early back to the airport. And there it was, waiting for me.
Then my daughter arrived. Finally I could part with the glass fruits; she really liked them.
Now it was time for the last check-in. We got Hector, but I was the seventh on the waiting list. “If you would rebook the whole flight, you might have a chance to get on that flight. I did, and handed out my MasterCard once more.
At least we arrived in Kelowna. Hector wiggled with his tail in his cage. Brigittte picked me up and surprised me with a Thanksgiving Turkey Dinner.
Now: How often did I miss a connection flight?
This summer I visited my family in Bavaria. We celebrated my 70. Birthday in Italy. My daughter works for a pharmaceutical company, visiting clinics. So she took me quite often with her, dropped me off in a city’s downtown area and picked me up again, when she was done with her job. I saw Bayreuth, Munich, Regensburg, Rosenheim and made trips on my own to Salzburg and Prague.
Then it was time to leave. For a long flight it's advisable to wear Supporting Stockings, but I could not find them any more, they must have disappeared in the laundry, anyways, so I bought quickly some new ones.
On the next morning I dressed for the departure. I felt the supporting stockings already slipping. My daughter said: "you have to saw them on your slip." So I did exactly what she suggested.
We had a nice, relaxing trip to the airport Munich. This was the last relaxing time for a while.
Arriving at the Air Canada Check-in, I was told that I was on the stand-by list, no reason given why. Christine got very angry and threatened with a lawyer right away. Well, I should go straight to the departure gate and see what will happen. Because I did not have my glasses ready, I asked Christine for the # of the gate. She said: # H 48.
After an emotional goodbye I went for the security check. With last minute re-arranging of the luggage for weight restrictions I put my laptop in the carry-on bag. It became very inconvenient; because it had to be screened separately every time. I also carried some beautiful, heavy; nevertheless fragile glass fruits with me, which I wanted to give to my daughter Veronika as a present. She was taking care of my dog Hector while I was gone, and I would take Hector back with me to Kelowna.
But back to Munich: I searched for gate H 48. I walked and walked until I stood at the US destination gate. This was not right. I had to go back to gate H 34. While walking, I felt those damned Supporting Socks slipping again, now only the top pants held them up. And then the carry-on bag on top of the other one started to slide as well, and as often as I tried, I could not hold anything in place.
Finally I arrived at the Toronto departure gate. “Step back and wait, I was told” I had to wait to the last minute for a seat. In between I managed to go to the washroom, ripped the stockings off and wore only my shoes.
In the airplane I sat besides a nice gentleman who told me that he had to cancel the flight for his sick wife, therefore the seat was vacant.
Arriving in Toronto you have to declare your luggage at customs. Mine was spit out last. Then there was a long line up at customs. When I arrived at the next Air Canada Check-in for a new boarding card, I was told that the airplane had already left. I was boarded for the next flight to Calgary, again only on the waiting list. The flight was filled to capacity. I phoned my daughter Veronika in Fort McLeod that I will not make it to Kelowna tonight, I would check into a hotel in Calgary.
The next flight had only one seat available at the back where the crew usually sits.
So I wiggled myself with the heavy carry-on to that seat and arrived at midnight in Calgary. It made me almost sick just to think on my other luggage, I had no idea where it was and frankly at this point I did not care any more.
Stepping out of the airport building, I spotted one single shuttle bus, and the driver brought me to their hotel. I checked in, went upstairs, and slid the card in the door of my room. But it was new to me, that you also needed the card to switch the lights on. So I stood there for a while until I figured out how it worked.
I watched myself in the mirror. Where did I get so dirty? My hands, fingernails were black, my travel bag dirty. Taking off my coat I saw my beautiful pink cashmere sweater had a bluish shine to it. What happened? The newly bought coat lost color!
Then I opened my carry on suitcase. With moving stuff back and forth for the proper weight, I could not remember any more what was inside. But the first thing I took out was a brand new nighty from Josefine, a freshly washed slip which Christine had put in the bag, another sweater and even some socks!
I felt so good, that I fell instantly asleep.
And on the next morning the laptop which had bothered me all the time, came really handy. I looked for connection flights and phoned for reservations, only to be told, that I would be on the standby list. But I phoned Veronika, and she would come in the afternoon with the dog.
I had to search for my luggage, so I went early back to the airport. And there it was, waiting for me.
Then my daughter arrived. Finally I could part with the glass fruits; she really liked them.
Now it was time for the last check-in. We got Hector, but I was the seventh on the waiting list. “If you would rebook the whole flight, you might have a chance to get on that flight. I did, and handed out my MasterCard once more.
At least we arrived in Kelowna. Hector wiggled with his tail in his cage. Brigittte picked me up and surprised me with a Thanksgiving Turkey Dinner.
Now: How often did I miss a connection flight?
Labels: October Travel-Trouble 2009
Naming Erika
Friday, March 26, 2010
Naming Erika
I entered the world in a suite on the 4. floor in our own Hotel Hopfenstock in Karlsbad, now Czechoslovakia 1939,
4 days before World War II started.
Mother and midwife were in the hastely transformed delivery room, the future father, grandfather and the family dog in the foyer. When mother screamed with pain, Purzel, the dog, hauled with her, it must have been quite a spectacle.
Finally, the baby was born. Everybody stormed into the room to congratulate my mother and each other to the new heir of the hotel, Michael.......But there was no Michael, it was a girl! Big surprise, big question: How do we name the girl, they were sure it would be a boy, whom they would call Michael.
Just then Hitler's new recruited soldiers marched into the Park before the hotel (my grandfather used to rent to spectators his best rooms on the third floor with balcony for Hitler's speeches). The soldiers sang: "Auf der Heide blueht ein kleines Bluemelein, und das heisst, Erika!"
Mother, father and grandfather looked at each other, nodding and crying: "we got it, we got it," we'll call her Erika.
Hence Erika got her name.
What is the English translation of Erika?
I entered the world in a suite on the 4. floor in our own Hotel Hopfenstock in Karlsbad, now Czechoslovakia 1939,
4 days before World War II started.
Mother and midwife were in the hastely transformed delivery room, the future father, grandfather and the family dog in the foyer. When mother screamed with pain, Purzel, the dog, hauled with her, it must have been quite a spectacle.
Finally, the baby was born. Everybody stormed into the room to congratulate my mother and each other to the new heir of the hotel, Michael.......But there was no Michael, it was a girl! Big surprise, big question: How do we name the girl, they were sure it would be a boy, whom they would call Michael.
Just then Hitler's new recruited soldiers marched into the Park before the hotel (my grandfather used to rent to spectators his best rooms on the third floor with balcony for Hitler's speeches). The soldiers sang: "Auf der Heide blueht ein kleines Bluemelein, und das heisst, Erika!"
Mother, father and grandfather looked at each other, nodding and crying: "we got it, we got it," we'll call her Erika.
Hence Erika got her name.
What is the English translation of Erika?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)