The Plane, the Buzzard and No Regrets

Friday, October 18th could have ended much differently for me and many others. On a full flight from Panama to Newark I had that moment in life when you get to consider the fact that you have reached the end of your stay here on earth. As the plane sputtered and the smell of smoke filled the cabin I had nothing left but time.

I watched the people in the plane. There was no crying. No yelling. No tears. Only hope and acceptance. The cabin crew sprang to life and prepared the plane for impact. Their professionalism in this terrifying moment astounded me. I didn't get to lay eyes on the man behind the voice that kept his cool and managed to land a limping plane full of gas safely. I wish I could have told him how much his skill was appreciated by not only those on the plane but also by those who loved us.

To the captain and crew of Continental flight 1022 from Panama to Newark - thank you.

At first I was going to carry on with this blog and write about how much the people in my life mean to me. But the thing is they know this. In fact I make sure to tell those closest to me the difference they make in my life as much as I dare. So it was in these moments in the plane when I thought I would not have a chance to do this again I was not troubled. Although I am far from ready to leave this world, I know that one thing I have done and done well is love. I have beyond a shadow of a doubt the most incredible, brilliant, kind and giving people in my life. In fact, I promise myself daily never to take them for granted.

So in this moment of acceptance I realized that I really didn’t have any regrets - just was tremendously heartbroken that I would not see my amazing son again.

But then as my eventful day carried on, something else happened. While making my way back to the hotel in Panama City my taxis driver and I narrowly escaped a major car accident.

My reaction? Laughter. Like someone shaking me from a deep sleep came the acknowledgement how very alive I was. Fate had intercepted and given me a tremendous gift.

You see flying is one of my greatest fears. Rationalization fails me on this one thing. I do it, but I loathe it. Even try to avoid it. But no more. As I felt the plane struggle to gain altitude my fear became my reality. I had no choice but to face it. Accept it even.

As cliché as it sounds “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” I certainly feel that way. I have lived a great life, but now it’s about to get even better – I simply won’t accept anything else. Acceptance is for moments when you’ve given up on life – and frankly I don’t have time for that.

PS. For a bit more information on the Continental Flight 1022 see below...

Incident: Continental B739 at Panama City on Nov 18th 2011, bird strike

By Simon Hradecky, created Friday, Nov 18th 2011 18:46Z, last updated Friday, Nov 18th 2011 18:47Z

A Continental Airlines Boeing 737-900, registration N53442 performing flight CO-1022 from Panama City (Panama) to Newark,NJ (USA), was in the initial climb out of Panama when the left hand engine (CFM56) ingested a bird and repeatedly surged. The crew shut the engine down and returned to Panama City's Tocumen Airport for a safe landing on runway 03R.Panama's Civil Aviation Authority reported the aircraft was headed for Houston,TX (USA), however, this flight reached Houston on schedule.Continental Airlines confirmed their flight 1022 returned to Panama due to necessary maintenance.

Reader Comments:
panama birdBy enrico boehme on Friday, Nov 18th 2011 19:18Z
i was in an warehouse in the cargo area when the noise started like a turboprop is landing next to me.. we run outside and over my head i have seen fire and noises like explosiones from the left engine.. we thought first is going down and is not climbing anymore.. pilot was bringit it under control and left kerosin in the pacific before landing.. landed save with scared people. good pilot and the landing was good..however those stupid birds here always are treath beside of heavy rains and storms.. friend of mine was in airplane and she said stuff flying around, people screaming and big noises and vibrations.. good they turned the thing off before explosion..

For a video of the landing refer to the editorial link http://www.tvn-2.com/noticias/noticias_detalle.asp?id=63532

Greener Pastures & Inspiring Moments

My mother and I were chatting away at the main street light in downtown Dornbirn at about 4pm on a beautiful Saturday afternoon when the man on his bike beside us suddenly gave a holler.

Of course we glanced over, but it was what we saw that will forever remain imprinted in our minds. Waiting patiently behind the man was his heard of sheep. Once he gave his okay to cross the road the sheep literally began to gallop after the man as he pedalled his way home. And not only that, they pretty much stayed on the sidewalk.

Later we learned that the sheep belonged to the owner of a popular bakery and café (Cafe Stadelmann) in town. I had previously heard about the owner Marcus. Passionate about his craft, his actions often provide fodder for a few conversations, but the respect for the end result, is high. You see, Marcus frequently takes his sheep for a “walk” so that they can enjoy greener pastures elsewhere.

I love the fact that Marcus the Baker walks his sheep so they can enjoy greener pastures. I love even more the fact that they follow him. There is something about a person who lives life on the own terms that both inspires and scares us. To venture out of one’s comfort zone and abandon the innate desire to conform requires courage and commitment. We all want as much as we can possibly squeeze out of life but often we are so busy colouring within the lines that our truly extraordinary life passes us by.

I have to admit, I was a bit inspired - so I am taking this moment I experienced as a gentle reminder to live life with as much passion and abandon as I can possible muster.

Water and Mountain People

Canadians are water people. We gravitate towards it on our holidays. Whether the Atlantic or Pacific Ocean or one of the many fresh water lakes you will find us flocking towards it. We swim in it, ski on it, lay around it, look at it, fish in it, dive, snorkel and wind surf. Cabins are built around it for family getaways, and house prices soar if there is a view of it. You get the picture - Canadians love their water.

I have to admit, it took some time for me to adjust to life here in Vorarlberg. Although the Lake of Constance is minutes away, people here simply do not expel the same amount of energy enjoying it as say Canadians would. You see, Vorarlberger’s love their mountains.

Living at the base of a popular hiking area, I spent months marvelling at the number of people heading up the mountain every day when weather permitted – which is virtually all the time. I was invited countless time to “walk” and “hike” and for climbing lessons in the mountains. Beautiful restaurants are nuzzled in remote mountain areas. Spas, festivals, cafes, ski resorts and so on. Life here is in the mountains.

Tough adjustment for a water loving Canadian. I just didn’t get it. You see in Canada we don’t really do a whole bunch in the mountains – some hiking, skiing of course, but for the most part it is best used for access to the less densely populated lakes and rivers. The reasons for this are many, however when I share with friends here in Vorarlberg they do not understand why we refrain from the lifestyle they so enjoy. Although we do some mountain-ish activities, we also respect the fact that within the forest walls reside bears, cougars (the man eating kind), coyotes and all sorts of predatory animals. Trails are less blazed and people are few – it’s simply different.

Having called Vorarlberg home for the past 10 months I can honestly say that I have come to appreciate the lure of heading to the mountains. No matter what sort of physical challenge I am in the mood for, I can find it in there. I can also find the solitude, simplicity and peace not always readily found at home. It’s a grounding experience.

As an expat, I have come to appreciate that our roots, our culture form a fundamental part of who we are. I was naïve to the extent that this actually exists. But I have also learned that although Canadian, I am also a Vorarlberger (albeit a newbie one) and that means something too. Water may be a part of who I am, but this whole mountain thing is now too.

The Quest for the Famous Kaesspaetlze

The first time I had Kaesspaetlze was about a year ago - and late at night. What I quickly learned was that was a really bad idea. Delightfully rich, the cheesy and teeny tiny dumpling like noodles had me tossing and turning throughout a sleepless filled night.

However I have since learned that most people would not dream of eating this dish in the evening. Specifically for the often sleepless nights it may cause.

But I love it. And in Vorarlberg they are quite noted for this deliciously rich meal. So - that means I have a responsibility to share it with those new to Vorarlberg. Alas, because of the potential adverse impact it may have to the waistline, an energetic walk should precede Kaesspaetlze - for then it is nearly guilt free.

Today was the very last day to enjoy Kaesspaetlze in Schönebach, a cute little place tucked away seemingly in the middle of nowhere. The perfect setting for a guilt free Kasspatzle experience. A long walk in the mountains, an afternoon spent enjoying a perfect fall day while also taking in the beauty of the area - and soon thereafter an appetite that only Kaesspaetlze could satisfy.

Well, I did my part. I introduced yet another to the famous Vorarlberger treat. And the best part? I won't have to cook anyone dinner tonight.

Police and an Empty Wallet

In Canada, if you pay for something with cash it can really mess things up. First off it better not be in big bills because anything over a $20 is subjected to anti-counter fitting scanners. In fact often you will see a sign that says “we do not accept $50 or $100 bills” simply because they can’t be bothered to take the chance. I in fact have a friend that was busted with a counterfeit $20 that he received from a bank – but the hassle he had to endure over proving that it did not originate with him was substantial.

However here in Vorarlberg, Austria this is not the case. It is all about cash. I have even had the pleasure of experiencing the awkward moment when it came time to pay and as I handed over my visa was advised that they did not take cards.

So I now go to the bank. Or rather the bankomat. And it spews out Euros in denominations of €50’s and €100’s. The first time I handed over a €100 bill for a €5 purchase I did what any other Canadian might do – I sheepishly asked if I could pay with my €100 bill. They looked at me as if I was from another planet and promptly made change.

This weekend has been a busy one for me. I’ve had commitments all over the place and burned through cash like crazy until all that remained was 5 euros. Still busy I put off going to the bankomat until it was more convenient. As I was rushing off to the next thing and singing along to Maroon 5’s latest I suddenly saw two police officers jump out into the middle of the road in front of me and flag me over.

As I handed over my British Columbia driver’s license and every single official looking paper I could find in the glove box the police officer informed me that I had been going 30 over the speed limit. Now in Canada I wouldn’t have been able to manufacture enough tears to get out of that one – not only would I lose a ton of points but I would also receive about a $300 ticket and a letter from my insurance company informing me how displeased they were with my driving habits. So I was clearly nervous. I had no idea how they would feel about my driver’s license and if I gave them the correct papers and if I was off to the nearest Austrian jail as a result of the combination. (By the way, in my defence I have been driving in Germany a fair bit lately and getting into the no speed limit highway driving).

You can imagine my absolute shock that once the police officers had completed their examination of my ID and papers that they then asked me for €35. Now. Of course it was then that I opened my wallet saw the remaining €5 bill. It was now time for the officer to look shocked. I am sure he was thinking “how can someone speed without cash? That’s not very organized.” Instead he said “there is a bankomat up the street.”

Doing as I was told I headed off to the bankomat and returned immediately to the scene of the crime just as I had been instructed to do. I handed the €50 over and the officer gave me change and a receipt.

As I drove away I couldn’t help but smile. I had just handed a police officer a 50 after being caught speeding – try doing that in Canada and see what happens.

To Dirndl or Not to Dirndl

“You have to wear your dirndl,” says the man to me. Then he pauses and adds, “You know what that is - right?”

“Of course,” I reply. “It’s the cleavage dress.”

I don’t know what it is, but my Vorarlberg experience has taught me that men LOVE the dirndl. We are talking all men – young and old. Initially I could not comprehend what would have women happily running around in a traditional dress that also required an apron. The skirt is long, the sleeves are often ruffled. The whole thing is incredibly girlie and seriously old fashioned. But what the whole get up does allow for is a spectacular showing of cleavage.

Let me stop here as I have a bit of confession to make - I am actually considering buying a dirndl. I know, clearly I have lived here too long for such a thought to even enter my mind and perhaps am in need of some sort of Austrian assimilation intervention. I think in some ways I just want to walk around in one - see what it feels like. Will I feel old school and old fashioned? Maybe a little sexy? Though that seems hard to believe - there is an apron involved after all. What exactly is it that keep women wearing them? Or why men love seeing a woman in one? In many ways, I have to think that for a man the dirndl is like watching a woman in maid uniform, a little bit of dress up fun perhaps? I don’t know what it is, but a woman wearing a dirndl is clearing exciting for a lot of Vorarlberger men.

But –do women find lederhosen hot on men? It’s a good question, because most often when the woman is wearing her dirndl, the man will often accompany her in his lederhosen.

Let me help you with the lederhosen visual. Man in leather knickers with suspenders, shirt embroidered with flowers, knee high socks and hopefully no hat walking towards you.

It’s not happening is it?

Where there are dirndl’s – there are certain to be lederhosen. Its part of the whole thing they have going on here. And the man who invited me to his wife’s 40th party and told me to wear a dirndl – you can rest assured that the men are being told to wear their lederhosen.

I dont know for certain if I will actually one day don a dirndl, but I have to admit; somehow knowing men will be prancing around in their lederhosen makes the whole dirndl thing seem a lot more reasonable. And maybe even a little fun...







Ps. here are a couple links – one for the dirndl and the other lederhosen.

http://www.google.co.uk/search?q=dirndl&hl=en&rlz=1I7ADFA_enAT420&prmd=imvns&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ei=3JyIToi7K8e4hAfusYHUDA&ved=0CDMQsAQ&biw=1350&bih=651

http://www.google.co.uk/search?hl=en&rlz=1I7ADFA_enAT420&q=lederhosen&bav=on.2,or.r_gc.r_pw.,cf.osb&biw=1350&bih=610&wrapid=tlif131757768029610&um=1&ie=UTF-8&tbm=isch&source=og&sa=N&tab=wi

Banana Hammocks and Spandex

A few months back I was at the gym and enjoying a long cardio workout when I noticed the man in front of me. He had on light grey spandex shorts that were completely see-through. He too was enjoying a long cardio work out - his long hair flopping around while energetically expelling countless calories from his lean frame. Having been here a while I am somewhat accustomed to the amount of spandex men wear albeit the see-through thing was a new one. At the pool I have had to come to accept that a regular “swimmer-sunbather” will climb out of the pool and change his wet speedo for a dry one - poolside.

I know that I blogged once before about the nudity, but I decided that perhaps it deserved one more. The trigger being a friend who happened to visit me from Vancouver and the look of panic on her face as she watched a huge amount of sweaty, spandexed men crowd in around her on a small gondola. There had been a large group of men who had climbed the mountain and now that it was dark, were taking the gondola down. All eager to get home, they crammed in taking every available inch.

My friend was mortified. To a Canadian, this was akin to being smushed in an elevator of naked men. However, these Austrian men were only wearing what they have deemed appropriate work out attire. Not wishing to get too close to these men my friend declined holding onto a bar and instead firmly planted her feet on the floor. Short lived, the initial jerk of the gondola commencing decent left her tumbling into the arms of the men she most wanted to avoid. Delighted they uttered greetings in German to which my normally outspoken friend could only reply with a timid “danke.”

The next day I took my friend to the pool. Although perhaps a little mean, I still had to do it. As soon as I saw the banana hammock man I made sure my friend was in the appropriate place to witness the inevitable. Mr. Banana Hammock did not disappoint.

I watched my friends face once again fill with a look of both horror and shock.

In Canada we are uptight about nudity. And if someone dares to show their body, our culture dictates that it must be young and toned to perfection. Banana Hammocks are not tolerated, and spandex shorts belong only on a bike. We also have unofficial rules - like not engaging in polite conversation with a man wearing spandex bike shorts, or publicly shunning any man who dons a speedo and calling 911 if someone strips down poolside.

I can’t say that I am used to being around a culture so comfortable with their bodies – perfect or not. But I now know what to expect and that has eliminated the discomfort I initially experienced after moving here. And my Vancouver friend? As hard as I tried, there was no way I could get her to the sauna.