Christmas as usual

It’s Christmas, the traditional celebration, as always.

This year we went down south to celebrate with family. All of them live in the south of Winterland. We’re the only ones who moved away.

My father had bought a Christmas tree this year. When I was a kid, we used to steal a tree in the forest. We put on our skis, brought a saw and an axe, cut down the most beautiful little pine we could find and pulled it back home. Not anymore. Even my father is buying the Christmas tree now.

(My father is a cool guy; retired teacher and enthusiastic cross-country skier and writer. He has written his own Christmas song, both the lyrics and the melody. He plays harmonica but he can’t read sheet music. I have to tell more about him some time.)

The meal on Christmas Eve is traditional, but varying around the country. We’re alternating between the sheep rib of the west coast (most years), and the pork rib of the south east (some years), depending on who we’re with.

This Christmas Eve we had sheep rib, dried and salted and smoked, and then watered (to remove excess salt) and boiled and finally fried, served with mushed swede and boiled potatoes. Very good.

After the meal, we were ready for the commercial Christmas orgy (we open the presents on Christmas Eve). Tons of toys and games were unwrapped, a lot more than the kids were able to appreciate.

On Christmas Day, little boy and I watched the Christmas Mass in TV (on public broadcasting). I need to know the stuff I mock and criticize. Recently we got some new liturgy; more music, more show. We’re getting closer to the Catholics. Martin Luther wouldn’t like this, but who cares. People want to be entertained while getting their opium.

We watched the mass for half an hour. Then we zapped to cartoons, The Simpsons, little boy’s favorite. I must admit I enjoy it myself.

In the evening a heavy storm hit the west coast and the south east. We were in a party, and when we tried to drive back an hour after midnight, the roads were blocked by fallen trees. We talked to a police patrol who was out to close roads. He advised us to go to return to where we came from. So we did, and slept over.

Tonight we went back home (no problems with the flight). Tomorrow the real vacation starts. Six days of skiing in the mountains. Great.

It’s Christmas as usual >:)

(Christmas on the slopes, that's the way I like it. Took the picture one year ago, and hope it will be the same this time.)

Christmas - two different ones

Christmas is a big hazzle, and this year I have to worry about two of them.

Last week, the guys I’m working with in Russia proposed a work meeting in Moscow 26-28 December. There’s no way I can go on a business trip between Christmas Day and New Year. I won't even mention it. Christmas is family time.

We can meet early in January, I suggested. No, we can’t, because that’s the Orthodox Christmas in Russia. No chance before mid of January, at best. Damn. Not good.

Christmas is a pain in the ass, and has always been. I dislike both the religious and commercial part of it. The Virginborn and Santa Claus, two quite bizarre products of human fantasy.

If I could delete two days from the callendar, I would pick Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.

However, it’s not much I can do about it. I just turn off my brain, watch the Disney cartoons with the kids, and wait for it to be over on the 26. December.

Then the rest is just a mid-winter skiing vacation, which is nice >:)

(I took the picture above one year ago when I was running desperately around town doing last-minute Christmas shopping. This year we don't even have snow in town. However, my wife has bought her present from me herself. Great. Then she gets what she wants, and I avoid going shopping. I'll rather buy her a book that I want to read ... that's how meaningless this Christmas thing has become >:D)

Deja Vu: The old jew from Brooklyn

Today D.L.Hammond at Cruising Altitude 2.0 is hosting the Deja Vu Blogfest. The rule: Repost some good old stuff from your archives, as simple as that.

Originally posted in May 2010, this is probably my own favorite from my blog archive:


The old jew from Brooklyn

Last night I was reading some old travel diaries, from university days, when I was a physics student.

Once we stayed in a small youth hostel in Vienna. There were six beds in each room, and separate rooms for boys and girls. In my room I met a small and skinny man, with white hair and a big beard. He was an 85 year old jew from Brooklyn, older than the rest of us together. He had sold everything he owned, and wanted to spend his money traveling around the world until he died. I thought that was a cool thing to do, while waiting for life to fade out.

He would have been close to 110 years old now, if he was still alive. I wonder how far he got on his journey. I hope he made it all the way to the end >:)

Dogs vs. ponies

Today it's 100 years since Roald Amundsen and his crew were the first men to reach the South Pole.

The race for the pole: Amundsen vs Scott. Two teams competing, using very different approaches.

Scott relied on motorsleds and ponies (and a handful of dogs). The motors failed and the ponies died (not much hay in Antarctica). His men walked on foot, and had to pull the sledges by hand.

Amundsen had learnt survival in the Arctic and dog-sledging from the navive Inuits, when he discovered the North-West Passage a few years earlier. He started out with more than 100 dogs, and going on skis. On the way to the pole, he killed the weaker dogs and used the meat to feed the living dogs, and his men.

The British didn't like Amundsen's methods. They called him a brutal maniac.

Amundsen reached the South Pole one month before Scott, and brought his team back home, alive.

Scott and his men died on the way back from the pole.

Skis and dogs rule in the snow.

(The picture above is a very famous one; it's Roald Amundsen and his crew on the South Pole in December 1911.)

Back in the snow

We got a foot of snow this week, finally. The kids were thrilled (and so was I).

The white gold, falling from the sky. Great!

This weekend, we had our first two days of real skiing.

Little boy's feet had grown larger since the summer skiing in June. So he needed a new pair of ski boots. We bought a pair of Lange Jr Racing boots, 90 flex (that's a measure of the rigidity of the outer shell), $370 with 20% ski-club discount. Very good boots. Older boy had the same type when he was 10-13 yo (his boots are worn out and thrashed long time ago).

New boots, high speed; little boy will be hard to follow on the slopes this winter. I'm lagging behind >:)

(I took the picture outside the cafe in our lunch break yesterday. Guess which skis are mine.)

Out of the sand

It’s my last night in Doha. Tomorrow morning I’m leaving the desert. Mission completed. I’m flying back home, with Qatar Airways.

According to themselves, Qatar Airways is one of the world’s leading air lines. They’re not bad. I enjoyed flying with them. They had very cute stewardesses. It’s kind of strange, the young and sweet girls working in the cabin of the airplane, with short skirts and plenty of makeup. Once they get out in the street after work, they put their niqabs and hijabs on. God is great, but don’t worry above 30.000 feet.

I had a very pleasant stay at InterContinental Hotel, right by the beach, and with a nice view to the Persian Gulf. I must admit I liked this country. Qatar is a desert country. Doha, the capital, is apparently expanding rapidly into the desert. There are cranes and construction work everywhere.


There is no fresh surface water in the entire country. I don’t know where they get the water from, possibly drilling for ground water or desalting sea water. But they have plenty of oil and gas, which has made Qatar one of the richest countries in the world, and with the largest consumption of gasoline, and emission of carbon dioxide per capita.

The population is kind of special. 1.5 million people live in Qatar, but only 300.000 are citizens. The rest is cheap labor from other Asian countries (India, Pilippines, Indonesia, …). The Qatarians don’t treat their workers very well. Salaries are low, and unions is illegal. No good; shame on you.


Qatar is a liberal country, by Islamic standards at least. Women are allowed to drive, and foreigners can practice their own religion (or lack of religion). In Doha, there’s even a Catholic Church. Also, Doha is the hometown of Al Jazeera, the “Arabian CNN”.

In 2022, Qatar is hosting the Soccer World Cup. Nobody understands how this came about, but everything is possible for the gang that rules international football (I still mean soccer).

Maybe I’m coming back to the desert sand in 2022, but tomorrow I’m going home to the snow.

(I took the picture at the top last night. The low building, a little bit to the left, is my hotel. The other pictures were shot during my stay. I was amazed by the falconer and his bird. It was so calm and quiet as long as the cap covered it’s eyes.)

Swallowing a camel

This week I’m at this big conference in Doha. It was even bigger than expected, more than 5000 people from all over the world. It’s very different to the conferences I usually attend; less science and more politics.

Yesterday was the opening ceremony; speeches by highnesses and excellences, music by the Qatar Philharmonic Orchestra, and then a nice dinner. I was impressed by the kitchen crew. It’s not easy to cook for 5000 people (unless you know how to do the 5-bread-and-2-fish trick, which has been demonstrated only once, as far as I know).

Lots of hot shots are here; secretaries of state, CEOs of major oil companies, highnesses and excellences. Today I was listening to a talk with the Energy commissioner of the European Union; lots of political bla bla bla. I didn’t get anything out of it that I didn’t know already.

This is not the pond I’m used to swim in. Here, I’m a very small fish in a big pond.

My talk was today, this afternoon, in one of the technical sessions. I had a slow and easy morning, and arrived at the conference center right before noon. First, I went to my company’s stand, and begged them to give me a tie (and I got one). Luckily, the color goes quite well with my black shirt.

I started to look for the speaker’s room, to upload my presentation to the computer system, and to prepare for my talk.

The conference center is HUGE, and I couldn’t find my way, so I asked one of the 800 students who work as volunteers at this conference. She was a female student from the university in Doha, dressed in a niqab, covering everything but her eyes.

She was helpful and polite, but I must admit it felt kind of strange to talk to a person showing nothing but her eyes. It’s the first time I’ve been talking to a muslim woman dressed like this. I have no idea if she was smiling or grumpy or annoyed.

I gave my talk in the main theatre. Even with 100 in the audience, it looks almost empty. I wasn’t quite sure how to start. Normally, I start with “Ladies and Gentlemen. Good afternoon”. But what if there were highnesses or excellences in the audience? I didn’t want an insulted and pissed excellency running after me. So, I started with the class-neutral “Good afternoon to all of you”. The rest was straight forward; I’ve done it many times before.

Tonight there was an “Arabian Nights” party, down on the beach of Doha. There were lots interesting dishes to taste (but no beer), and of course I had to swallow a camel. Well, I didn’t eat the whole camel, just a small piece of it, fried on the grill.

The camel tasted very much like pork, but don’t tell the muslims because then they don’t want to eat it anymore.

(I took the picture above in the conference center today. The huge spider is a very nice piece of art, made from bronze. The young lady in the lower right corner happened to pass by when I shot the picture. I can tell you that she had very pretty eyes. That’s all I know about her.)

Propaganda

I have a flight tomorrow morning at 6am. Terrible; I have to get up at 4.

I'm going to Qatar. Very interesting; it's my first visit to the Arab world (except a day on the beach in Tunis, which doesn't really count).

I'm going to a pretty big conference. It's not the first time. I've been to many conferences before, in Europe and America.

However, this time is special. BigOil (that's my company) has a stand in the exhibition hall, and then the propaganda department gets involved. They want BigOil to appear better and prettier than HugeOil and MonsterOil and DirtyOil and HorrorOil.

Some days ago I got a mail with various information, including this: Dresscode is black suit, white shirt and tie.

What the Hell; I never wear a tie, and I only have black shirts.

It's only the guys who work in finance and law who wear suit and tie at work. I'm working with technical stuff and science. We always dress like vagabonds.

So what should I do? I need to run to some store to buy a couple of white shirt. If they want me to wear a tie, they should give me one.

My presentation is next Tuesday. I have plenty of time to get properly dressed >:)

(I downloaded the picture above from the Internet. It's the famous national-romantic painting by Tiedemann and Gude. That's the way they want us to appear, I guess)