Ken hAAmer

It wasn't planned that way. It just happened.

I had French fries in France, a frankfurter in Frankfurt, a hamburger in Hamburg, a Danish in Denmark, a Polish sausage in Poland, Swiss chocolate in Switzerland, and in Sweden, yup, you guessed it... I walked through an IKEA listening to ABBA.

French fries in France... no matter what else you think or say about the French (or how hard you hit them -- more on that in a minute) they have great food. I once worked long hours on a job in Brest, so long that by the time I got back to the hotel the kitchen was closed. So I just drove up to the BP Petrol station, bought a couple of sandwiches, some fruit, maybe a pastry for desert, and some fruit juice. But unlike "gas station sandwiches" elsewhere in the world, these were great! Fresh, tasty, and packed with the good stuff. Not like some of those crappy oversized loves with a paper thin sheet of meat or cheese. No, these were real sandwiches, and I looked forward to them each evening.

Frankfurter in Frankfurt... well, I've always known them as "European weiners" (which I think is another name for the French). I've always liked them, and this one was no different. Not too exicting, but a nice change.

Hamburger in Hamburg... OK, so it was MacDonalds. We were in a hurry, OK?

Polish sausage in Poland... pretty damn good, and cheap too. So was everything, including this great sidewalk stand where you could get a huge Belgian waffle (hmmmm... note to self: next time stop in at Belguim), loaded with about 10 different kinds of fruit, fresh whipped cream and ice cream, for about CAD $4. Brilliant, and delicious.

Swiss chocolate in Switzerland... well, tasted just like the same stuff in the office vending machine. Not surprising I suppose, since the airline was handing them out for "desert."

Danish in Denmark... WOW! These are to die for. There's nothing rotten in this part of Denmark. I just couldn't believe how good they were. I'll be travelling to Denmark on a regular basis from now on (a la Mexican Hat Dance) just to stop in for a Danish. More brilliant than Polish Belgian waffles.

Sweden... don't ask. (But I'm told that if you don't pay Swedish gangsters protection money, they come around to your house and take your furniture apart.)


Now, about that "hit"... the French have a reputation (undeserved for the most part, in my opinion) of being rude. I've found them to simply not really give a damn about anything. But not rude. Until today.

I was on a flight from Zurich to Paris, and when we landed two very self-important people at the back decided they were going to push their way all the way to the front. I was in the aisle seat, and quite happy to wait for the crowd to thin. But then I heard a series of grunts and groans as they kept pushing people out of the way and in at least one case pushed someone back down into their seat. Not quite quickly enough, I promptly stood up and blocked the aisle. (And of course those of you who've seen me know what I mean when I say I blocked the aisle.) The first guy just got past me, but his lady friend was stopped dead.

At this point the guy turned around and started giving me a hard time. He then asked if I was going to say "sorry" to which I replied "You want me to apologize to you?" Not bloody likely. But then his female companion started complaining that I hit her. So I replied "If that's the case, then I'm sorry. It was not my intention." But I wasn't going to let her pass.

And no, I did not hit her. What really happened was she was plowing ahead at full speed and quite simply (and quite hard really) collided with me. Needless to say, she came out on the losing end of that deal.

But then I started getting smiles from all around. Little waves, the occasional "thank you", and so on, that lasted all the way through passport control and to the baggage counter. And a "little old lady" even came up to me and said something in French, laughed, and waved to me as she left. I guess we can all be heroes, at least for one day.


And now about those two oxymorons... Swiss precision and German efficiency (or engineering, take your pick.) I wasn't suprised by the German thing. Not since I first saw the single windshield wiper on a mid-80s Mercedes sedan. There was only one wiper in the middle, but it could not reach the upper corners of the windshield. So, at the base of that single wiper, was a huge, heavy, and remarkably complicated assembly whose sole purpose was to pull the wiper "in" when it got at the top of the wipe. It's hard to explain, but if you ever see one, you'll know exactly what I'm talking about. It's stunning in it's Rube Goldbergness. Just like they say of Da Ali G Show, it's brilliantly stupid. And then there was my friends old BMW 2002ti. Every time I helped in work his car, I found it harder to believe that anyone would actually build such a contraption.

I can't go into too many details, but the German guys (engineers no less) I worked with for a week had a never ending supply of surprises for me. Like when I was working quickly and they came over to tell me "I'm working. Not escaping." In other words, you're working to fast. This job should take longer. I was equally surprised by the fact that after I'd been up and travelling for 24 hours, they were still an hour late picking me up at the airport, and instead of going to a hotel, we were driving straight to Poland for 6 hours. I finally get to bed about 1am after having been up over 30 hours, but still agree to meet them for breakfast at 7:30 am. At 7:45, after hunting for them for 20 minutes, I call their rooms. They're all still asleep, and finally come down about 8:30. Oh well.

So on to the Swiss. I've finally realized that Swiss precicion probably equates to using a calendar to tell the time. A sundial would be decidedly high tech. To be fair, this opinion is based on 2 Swiss flights, and one transit of ZRH. Swiss has some real gems on staff (including the one who upgraded me to J, and the J flight crews.) But for the most part, it's like a turkey farm with a couple of eagles flying overhead.

Both flights were late, on the second one they didn't latch the cargo hatch door properly, so someone in a truck came over to the tarmac where we were, and seemingly fixed it with what sounded like a rubber mallet. In flight service was laughable, and at least three times FAs opened overhead lockers only to have something fall out on to a passenger. Happily, it was only coats and pillows, but nevertheless, these are FAs... shouldn't they know better? Funniest of all was one FA trying to put a large roll aboard in the overhead, end first. She tried about 8 times, and it never fit. So then she tried the other side about 8 times, and it still didn't fit. Then a passenger who looked like a pro-wrestler got up, turned it sideways, put it in, closed the door, and sat down without a word.

And ZRH was one giant goof. I asked several different Swiss airline personal where the lounge was and got completely different though equally vague responses. I eventually found the sign, nowhere near where anyone told me, and got to the lounge. The 3 guards there seemed to be pretty pissed off however, 'cause they had a bunch of those "scratch and win" type tickets that they were furiously "scratching." No idea what they were, but it seemed to be serious work, that I was interupting.

Then trying to get instructions and a time estimate to the departure gate of my connection was a comedy or errors. I may or may not have to take a train, I may or may not have to pass through a security checkpoint again, and it may take anywhere from 5 to 30 or more minutes to get there. I used the toilet then bailed on the packed lounge, and found my way to the gate. No train, security, < 15 minutes. And security was worse than YYZ. Much worse. Scary worse.

We waited a long time at the boarding gate as well. The plane was on time, as was the crew. But no one to check us in, until 5 people showed up. One watched (or supervised), another took questions then relayed the question to the woman standing next to him, who in turn, bestowed an answer upon him, and he replayed the message. The 4th took boarding passes and put them through the machine, while the 5th took the machine apart after every BP got stuck, then pulled it out, and handed it back.

Most distressing of all was that they seemed unprepared to let anything bigger than a FedEx envelope on as carry on. One guy had to check his minisucle and very thin 16" or 18" roll aboard, notwithstanding that it would easily fit under a seat as well as in an overhead bin. My problem was I had my stuffed satchel, and my stuffed laptop case, which both seemed like they might be targets. Time to think fast.

I perused the line up looking for a couple of people with larger carry-ons and insinuated myself right behind them. Sure enough, they (the 3 or 4 of them) got into a heated argument about checking or not checking the bags. Meanwhile, I quickly and quietly snuck behind them and down the jetway. (If you've ever seen Joe Pesci in "8 Heads in a Duffel Bag" -- well, you'll get the picture.)

So, that's it. Another airline hits the trash heap. Lufthansa does a boring but competent job. And I'm now addicted to Danishes. Danish Danishes.