Heidschi Bumbeidschi

Heidschi Bumbeidschi

But Heiji Bumbeischi sleep for a long time 

the mother is gone 

she is gone and never returns home 

and leaves her little Büberl so completely alone 

But Heidschi Bumbeidschi bumbum, 

But Heiji Bumbeidschi bumbum.

But Heishi Bumbeidschi, sleep the sweet 

ones let them greet 

you They greet you and ask 

you if you want to walk in heaven 

But Heiji Bumbeidschi bumbum, 

but Heidschi Bumbeidschi bumbum.

Christmas Eve was lovely- a little long on the goose liver, but very pretty as always. I took a video and will try to post, but videos have never worked too well on the ol blog.  One of our favorite carols sung this night is from the 19th century, written originally in Bavarian/Austrian dialect. I never knew until this year that the song is is about mothers losing their children, back when infant mortality was high. Eventually it was turned into more of a lullaby for putting kids to sleep- and less about actual death. But this is why I love spending Christmas here: where else do you find nine course meals with goose liver, accompanied by Christmas Carols about dead babies? It's refreshing not to be coddled. 

We heard the usual speeches- an intellectual one from G about becoming more humane at Christmas, and Frau S. choking back tears as she thanked us. Then the main event- Luis, Frederick and the other two members of the retainer stealing team were appointed to give the Christmas speech. Too funny. None of these kids knows a Christmas outside of this hotel- and they talked about why they loved it. Frederick told about his jello suspended possessions and how this would not happen at another hotel; how this was a place that was safe for people and retainers alike. 

Lighting the tree with live fire; No sissy electric lights here. 

There was a new comer- a very young English boy who brought the house down reading a poem about memories of his youth. It was like Laurence Olivier in short pants. Then there were the usual assortment of little girls in dirndls who read from the bible, one of whom was in a state of panic because she had to read the word circumcision. Apparently the women from the children's play room (who hand out the roles) brook no squeamishness about an occasional Christmas penis reference. Like I said, there is no coddling here. 

Harumi gave me this hat from a company that is called Teton something, after our beloved Jackson Hole, with Japanese writing on the back. Thomas is trying to steal it from me, but I'll kill him first. 

I promise I will get some photos up soon, but now we must go to Church. xx

Wearing my favorite present, post dinner- a hat from Harumi

mini Laurence Olivier with the dirndl girls

Gifts in front of our door from Mrs. S

Jello à La Retainer

Small interim update. Frederick called us from his room in a near panic asking if we had taken his credit cards and I.D. out of his wallet. Um no....? Then he came rushing in explaining that he had gone out for a 45 minute ski and left his door open, wallet on full display. Thomas said Frederick needed to look around his room, because he probably took them out himself. Ok this was silly-one doesn't take out four credit cards and one's I.D. and then forget it an hour later. We scratched our head, and Thomas called the reception, not to accuse them- but to ask if any had been found. The woman said no and reminded him that never in the history of the hotel had anything been stolen from a room. Thomas said yes of course....we know. Then it occurred to me that it was obviously this gang of boys headed by Luis. And indeed, it was. They said they had the cards and the retainer and all were in a safe place; but they could say no more. I asked what their demands were- I mean a hostage retainer gets a pretty good price.
So we laughed and got ready for dinner.

Later four waiters come out with two enormous flaming jellos with credit cards and retainer cooked inside. Luis said the retainer was hard to keep from floating to the surface, so they had to attach it to a banana. Such are the perks of having a patisserie chef at your disposal.

Apparently the boys had come looking for Frederick (who is now resplendent in his own room dear god) and finding it empty and filled with credit cards...took the most natural next step.

So. Game on people. Please submit revenge ideas to my email......keep in mind with my Brigham gene for vicious practical jokes and Thomas' sangfroid at the prospect of emptying the family trust if needed, we have a broad range available. Get on it.

Never Mansplain to a Japanese Pharmacist

Thomas and I have been here a week, and don't feel the zen yet. There have been guests five of the days (Rainer and Peter consecutively). But there is no rest for the weary, because tonight most of the core crowd comes.

T and I were badly jet-lagged, but unlike at other hotels, this becomes news here. Mrs. Schneider appeared before me in the hallways like a specter asking about my night, and the waiters silently brought me shots of ginger.

Harumi is by my side thank god. We had one rather nice day of powder and she was happy with my turns. But on the last run she claims I leaned back and this she can't let go. For the uninitiated, the zen of skiing is to be forward; but not bending at the hip with bum out the back; no. She tried to explain what is clearly obvious to her- how you are supposed to be in this perfect upward position, with bent knees, but since different hills have different slopes. it is something that has to be constantly adjusted. A perfect position on the flat does not work on a very steep hill. Finally she told me that when my "po po" i.e. my bum is too far back, it must be brought back up. This was news. The thing I both love and hate about this sport is that to be safe you have to have faith in the experts, in accepted wisdom, in your Harumi.  Neither your brain nor your gut is of any use.

Today was one of those days that make you worry about the future of the planet, and more immediately of the hotel, because it poured rain. Of course we still went out, but there was such high wind that most things were closed and the hills were both icy and slushy.  At one point we were on a lift for a very small hill - the one where children learn- and we were swinging so badly I thought I was going to die right there on the bunny lift- which is of course such a poor ending for the biography Amy is going to write.

Yesterday we explained to Harumi what mansplaining was. She told us a tale about how she has met men on helicopter trips who won't shake her hand, because they don't want to ski with her. In their defense, it is genuinely dangerous out there and she looks like a pretty Japanese pharmacist.  Lots of times, the men try to ski faster than she does.....even though the whole point of having a guide is so they go first and test for avalanches. Luckily for these idiots, no one skis faster than Harumi-San. To paraphrase the sound of music: It's like trying to catch a moonbeam in your hand. Thomas famously said when she goes into her top gear it is like trying to follow a comet.

Tell me-is there anything more beautiful than the sight of all those tears and training and Japanese mastery forming the massive dust cloud on which those men must now choke?

Po Pos up, girls. Knees bent, but Po Pos up.

England Ahoy

F is leaving tomorrow for his little Cambridge chats. Unlike Feng's son (who also made the cut of course), Frederick will make his way to the Berkeley hotel where E and C will be waiting; tea cups in hand. He says he still has an oyster card and will hop on the tube with his little roller suitcase, like a slightly brainy flight attendant. Then, after a nourishing meal and sleep, his aunt and uncle will pick him up and take him to King's college where he will sleep in new Brooks Brothers pyjamas bought by Nana. What I am trying to say is, he has a lot of support in this adventure.

His uncles told him that it's a pity that the Brigham who can pass the natural sciences entrance exam, is not the one with story telling chops. If one of us were going, the stories would be legendary. He had to sign both a scanned and hard copy of an agreement saying that he wouldn't reveal to anyone what was on the test, or what transpired at the interviews. Ha.
He will be revealing, I tell you- or he is out of what is left of the tattered will. Obviously I will be posting all details here.

I love the severity of the letter above- not a single exclamation point. Thomas is looking at the names of the professors who will meet with F and they look like a fun crowd.

Finally, ya'll should know the two best things in the week as determined by me: Maureen Dowd's article about H.W. Bush, and the "All I want for Christmas" - message from the women of SNL song on Saturday night live. Do not delay availing yourselves of both.

H.W. Bush never wrote a memoir (don't you love that?). He did however compile a book of his letters. It's a bit like this blog, though I like this form better: letters written into thin air.


next update complete with exaggerations and lunacies coming Friday.

Are we having Feng Yet?

Downtown Exeter. No Filter

F drew the short stick this semester and was assigned to the class of one Mr. Feng, professor of mathematics, for what is an accelerated version of something. (Don't ask me) Anyway, Feng teaches all levels of math there, so it is no particular honor to have him.

There are kids who say they come to Exeter just to be in one of his classes. Exonian Mark Zuckerberg cited him as his most influential teacher (he wrote Zuckerberg's recommendation for Harvard); and the Chinese parents have been known to arrive on their hands and knees to meet him. If you revere math, he is the one you want to teach your kid. The stories abound: how he berates kids who he thinks aren't trying that hard, or who make careless errors- asking kids how they even got into Exeter, or in one case, asking a girl to leave the room and not come back until he was no longer a teacher.
Anyway F was game.

This is just part of his CV from the school website on him: 
Mr. Feng’s professional interests deeply relate to problem-solving-based math activities. He designed the course Mathematical Problem Solving at Yale University and taught it from 2013 to 2015. He has served as a coach of the USA International Mathematics Olympiad (IMO) team since 1997; was deputy leader of the USA IMO delegation; an assistant director of the USA Mathematical Olympiad Summer Program (MOSP); and the leader of the USA IMO delegation and the academic director of the MOSP for ten years. He is a coordinator at IMO 2015, and has been a member of the USA Mathematical Olympiad Committee since 1999.

He also coached girls JV soccer for many years, had many winning seasons, including one perfect one. No doubt he was very good at devising plays: "Now Skylar, you run 45 degrees south of Henrietta, while Pammy dissects the semi circle in front of the goal. "

So we went to his class. Feng ignores all us parents as we enter. There is only one girl; she seems to be friends with Frederick. Feng is not the reedy bespectacled person I imagined- more teddy bear shaped, in dad jeans. Thomas said he looks like a man who regrets he didn’t take an extra headache pill that day. He finds mistakes, non attention to detail, feeble attempts- he finds these things highly irritating. He is not impressed by your kid, hell he is not impressed with his own- a brilliant kid who is good friends with Chico (and also applying to Cambridge).

There is a PHD student who sits in the back of the class, learning how to be a teacher like him.  Feng is reputedly not impressed with him either.

So the class starts and the kids who are sitting closest to Feng are laughing nervously at his comments about idiotic things he has seen. Clearly this is part schtick- he is really pretty funny. But he is also genuinely annoyed by the existence of stupid and careless that seems so abundant in the human race.  A student goes up to the board and scribbles away while describing his process. Feng is armed with a little red laser. He whips the light over to one little blob of chalk and asks what the hell is that. The kid- a thin handsome 11th grader in glasses tries to explain. Feng pauses as if to decide whether he can let this go; the kid has clearly got the right answer, but as Frederick can attest, Feng is not teaching creativity here. Math is creative at some level, but not with this group. Someone asked me how high this math was. Basically if you start at the lowest math class at PEA, you will graduate in a math class called 300 something. This is 500 something. So F was at college level courses last year, and will finish at the highest math in the official course catalogue. But of course there are unlimited other electives one could take- including the famous math 999 which is just whatever the best kids conjure up to learn. And remember in this class there are a few who are in 11th grade- meaning a full year ahead of F's program. So to say Feng is not dazzled by Frederick Wehlen is to put it mildly. What is so gratifying about it is how the kids delight in this treatment. Later when we got to Boston and we were having a conversation about how he really was so very lucky to have scored the parents he did (a fun topic to return to often, in my opinion) and he agreed he got in the right line for parental assignments. "The only person I would want to swap you for as a parents is Mr. Feng. " (???!!!) This is the man who handed him a 65 out of 100 on a test primarily because he answered correctly, but he didn't do it the Feng way. The man who may crush his MIT/CATECH dreams with one swipe of his pen and a B+. He wants him to be his daddy. Point is, there is some hope for the youth of this world- there is some hope for young men. They don't need to take this class- they don't need to be told they are ordinary and need to work harder. But they do.

F jumps up to answer his problem, and the red laser is blessedly down. But then Feng asks him how he could express that more formally. He wants F to express it both ways. I don't understand anything, but I do see how he is hammering procedure and fanatical exactness. The only time we saw a real glimpse of how he acts when parents aren't there, is when all the kids were told to do a problem at the board, and one guy realized he had written down a totally different bunch of numbers. He just copied it wrong from the book to the board- but it was massively wrong.  And Feng just goes after him- "how could you get so many numbers off? I can see one maybe? but so many?" So if Feng catches you making a careless error in the dark corner of the class, and even though you find it and correct it, and absolutely no harm was done, even then, he is pissed. It may seem mean, but if any of them turns out to be in charge of making my airplane, or bridge or vaccine, I am glad Feng's voice will be in their ear, calling them an idiot.

I asked Thomas why the right answer is sometimes not the right answer in this class. I thought in math there was an answer and that was it. He explained that there is always more than one way to get to the answer. Feng is teaching one process that they must learn. If they stumble another way to the answer, that is a different class.

What else? We went to a physics class with just the loveliest teacher ever- big fuzzy sweater, ill fitting jeans, Birkenstocks. They split into groups and did an experiment. These are sort of fun- the parents hang in the back and chat. Unfortunately I am stuck talking to this woman whose son is way ahead of mine, and I know because she spent the full hour reciting his stats. He has finished all the APs he needs for Cambridge already (F still has three). He took F's math last year; he is just simply genetically superior, I had to agree. She wasn't trying to show off...she was just so nervous that she was chanting his accomplishments as some sort of mantra. I am not sure she knew I was there. Clearly she doesn't have a lot of friends, but doesn't know why. Thomas and I were crab walking to the side away from her as she went on and on. We were trying to talk to the mother of Frederick's good friend who is from Chicago. We wanted to talk about deep dish pizza and Wentworth gossip. But this woman - an engineer and HBS graduate (she told us that too) wanted in.

KMH and I are trying to manifest Caltech happening so we can go to Pie and Burger and flirt with astrophysicists in the sun. But this is going to take a lot of manifesting to get him in with kids like this around.

So onward. Frederick has a few more weeks of this blistering work load; then an easy semester where he takes all the art classes and public speaking classes he has blown off until now; then spring is brutal again with advanced astronomy and Quantum physics. Keep meditating people..

Head of Charles was fun, but freeeeeeezing, so watching it was brutal. Below are the boys in the boat. Charlie and his hockey friend are the muscle in the middle. They took up crew only months ago, and they are going to the one and two college crew teams: Yale and Cal. The other two are going to Brown and I don't know where....anyway they are good, but had a rough day.


xx

CMB is trying to bring back the visor in the fashion world. Watch this space.....

Charlie modeling the pea coat I got him. F is trying to ridicule. 

Me with the coxswain of the Exeter boat. He is only a 10th grader and had a huge burden on him. Well done. 

The only photo I dared take of the Feng, the myth. Be afraid people. He wants you to do better, whatever you are doing. 

I love this school....and I want these t shirts. 

F at the four seasons when he finished his college essays.

Charlie and Will- Will, with the best form is in the front. CMB is one of two muscles in the middle. 

The Aliens Will Hear Hitler First

Special relativity explained with stick figures. Also known as Giuliani law. 

Leadership weekend wrap up! 

Don’t you love it? That’s what they call us: leaders. 

(latin for: “those who have coughed up")

MMB and I are now infamous as those two blondes with the huge family of people who have been kicked out. People come up to us and say we made their day with our stand up act.

Another woman who looked very tightly wound, tapped me on the shoulder to tell me she had been to my house. Her second comment was that my husband was “the most laid back parent about college she had ever met". She also told me that her son, who has graduated, told her if he had known what first semester of senior year would be like, he would not have come to the school. It seems he has a sort of Frederick-put me in with the lions ethos, and that can be a bit like taking a dare on a Carolina Reaper pepper. Sounds good before you eat it. F looks different. In past years, he was a little nervous, but now he is facing something much bigger. The famous Mr. Fung for example took 12 points out of 15 off on one question -even though he had the right answer... apparently Frederick didn’t do it the way he taught them in class.

Frederick was laughing when we told me though- he likes an honest black eye. 

At dinner, he tried to explain what he is learning in physics: "it's just not logical mommy." He says he understands it so far, but is clearly worried it is going to get weird soon. Then he got a little jolly on an organic cola and said he could explain if we gave him a piece of paper. This is all I heard: if one person is going the speed of light, and an observer is not, there will be,  in essence, two versions of reality. And because I am now and forever tainted by political Podcasts, all I heard was this sentence booming in my head: “Rudy Giuliani was right!! Truth isn’t truth!!!!! 

Frederick thought about that and said yes that was perhaps true.

We talked about intelligent life and how we are trying to make contact. He said he is trying as we speak, via his computer.

The trouble is, the first thing the aliens will hear of humans is Hitler on TV (he was the first to televise things) and they might be put off by a tiny, tightly wound German ranting about something called “Jews". You can just see them asking themselves: what the alien fuck is up with this people? 

I asked him who else was taking the class, and he said mostly Asian kids that one doesn’t see on the lacrosse field; but there are also a few intrepid souls who don’t understand anything about physics, but have large, curious cojones. And honestly aren't these the people we admire most?  How I wish I had been like this in high school- a little more embracing of abject failure. It's not that I didn't fail of course- it's just that it was foisted upon me. And one should never wait for foisting. 

The 1562 Grant avenue team in happier times (pre Kavanaugh). 

  

  

Few Photos QM2 Hamburg-South HamptonLeaving Hamburg

Leaving Hamburg

From my second floor bed

Closet at sea

Part of our deck

no filter 

Thomas on the sunniest seat on deck 

Sea update #2; photos to follow

After a few good hours of sun and small, almost black, dolphin watching today, we have fog now. We are very busy- F is still writing his paper and arguing with me about the rules of the semi-colon. We are all devoted to these astronomy lectures with this adorable astronomer; tonight we are hoping to meet him under the stars on the top deck at 10 pm. Today he talked about eclipses, and Saturday he will speak about asteroids. Little does he know what his audience holds. One false move and we will have to show him a thing or two about asteroids.
kidding.

In food and beverage news, F and I have the caviar almost every night (with extra toast) while Thomas tries his very best to avoid the offer of large prawns cooked at the table. He is afraid of large prawns. Crepes Suzette is made by this guy from Macedonia. The head of the dining room (and the Turk’s replacement) is from Columbia, but our favorite is our waiter from India- the kindest happiest person ever. We love him. He hands us our food and says our part for us: “Excellent!”  or “thank you!” too funny. After such a long summer, we are really almost sick of all food and drink. But there is some pressure to perform and order something decent. I can’t swear to it, but I think the sommelier rolls his eyes as he walks away.

The great thing about taking the Queen Mary is that unlike an airplane, - it’s the same ship every time. We know where the warmest place on the port side is; we know where to go when waves are big; we know what time of day to go to the Commodore Club; we know how many times around is a mile. It’s like coming home. Oh speaking of that, we had a first yesterday: Thomas and I walked around the deck for three hours. (!) That makes 11 miles. We took a breakfast break, and then walked the last hour. I went through plenty a podcast I tell you….

We are focused on the small things: the temperature of the hot tub on the Queens deck and our favorite pumpernickel bread to name a few. At breakfast we were watching the joggers, and one woman was so fast, we decided to time her. 2:45 for one lap. This is of course my definition of happiness- the absurdity of this being as important as anything else we did that day.
Still asking about scary storm stories. One trip to England in January was bad. Said people fell out of their chairs at dinner. December 8th there is a crossing New York to Southhampton…just putting it out there people. Who is in?

More soon…I have to go to a lecture with F on another murder mystery (get the feeling England only has a few in its entire history). Frederick goes to everything. Once he wandered past an open door and heard snippets of what he assumed would be a relaxing lecture on Nazis or perhaps the second world war. Alas it turned out to be about the sound of music. They were talking about the Von Trapp family. Poor thing.

So I guess it isn’t all perfect out here.

Just got back from a Q&A with the astronomer. He was semi-heckled by a conspiracy theorist who said America didn’t land on the moon.
It was awkward.

He is very passionate about light pollution and the idea of amateurs in general (which he says comes from the french word for LOVE of).  Astronomy is one of those things that gives me great peace AND great anxiety. Did you know for example of the risks of the sun (and exploding nuclear bomb as he calls it) giving us a free, full body x ray when we fly? Did you know the Andromeda galaxy is hurtling toward us? We will end, the earth will end, our sun will end.
He seems excited by it.

I am so in love with this wild, terrifying ocean. Luckily, I am traveling like a coward in a mighty cruise ship, far above the waves. We have had some pretty big rocking and it is only summer. Imagine when she is in a really bad mood.

Are we having fun with the Southern District of New York going after that orangutan president of ours?

Ok must go put on my slinky dress and feather mask to flirt with my gay friends. They clap when i come in in a good dress.

Quick update from somewhere in the Atlantic!

Ahoy all. We left Southhampton on a rather pretty evening on our way to the mighty Atlantic. The exit from was the most spectacular we have ever seen. We were parked in a narrow channel that was packed with sail boats and cruise ships and jet skis, all trying to get a close up look of our ship. Trouble is, we were backward- we couldn’t see how a boat this massive could turn around in such a narrow space; would it back out???
So instead of drinking champagne at the back of the ship where the band was, we went to a special place in the bow where the super nerds hang out. Here is where you hear all the technical talk about bow thrusters and electric pods. It was rather mesmerizing: we saw, far below two ordinary chaps throw the huge lines into the water, to set us free. Then we basically scooched left as if we had feet. Scooched left, and then slowly every so slowly turned around. This planet sized ship has a very small turning radius. Who knew? Anyway it was all very bad ass- the captain, the ship, the little humans who figured this all out.
We cheered.

So off to sea! I am reading a wonderful book about the Atlantic- and the author is as awed and enamored by this ocean as I am. He points out how unlike the pacific which has some turquoise   areas, a few palm trees lining it here and there: the Atlantic is stubbornly gray; a terrifying expanse of moody, magnificent water. He explains how it all started, and how it will all end. The continents will come back together and humans will end, and there won’t be any more soft serve ice cream machines.

Our room is apparently the third best on the ship. It is two floors and has a kitchen and three showers (!) It was the last one available….we don’t usually do this.
But it has gotten us a really good table at dinner and a few curious looks. (“Funny they don’t look like gangsters…..” ) Oh speaking of gangsters, there was a beautiful Russian family at an even better table, that I had my heart set on befriending- she was so lovely and worried. I think she only had champagne for lunch after a long worried discussion with the Russian waitress. Oh the waitress is too funny- she makes comments like my father used to make if the order is too wimpy. I ordered two appetizers for lunch instead of an entree and no wine as usual. She hadn’t even met me and she said I was boring. HA!
Where was I? oh the Russians got off in England so I have no friends. sad.

And friend the Turk is alas on vacation, so we don’t get the extras we used to.

Yesterday we had the planetarium show, a talk on an unsolved murder in 1930, a pedicure, a blow out, a table tennis tournament, and F started and finished a first draft of the caltech application which just came out.

Today was really good. There is a man from the Royal Astronomical Society (the Wehlen luck!) and he is giving four  talks. Today was the first- on how to look at the night sky with the naked eye. He is beyond fabulous- teaches at Oxford, and is singularly obsessed with light pollution. I am with him on this…so many people cannot see the stars at all, literally cannot see a single star due to this problem. It seems if people would just keep from having lights shine UP, things would be a lot better for astronomers and romantics everywhere.
more on that later.

Later in the week we get to meet him at a bar on board for Q&A. We are excited believe me. OH! and the last talk will be on asteroids! Can’t wait to talk shop with him.

Met the really young, handsome, Italian, absolutely earnest, third in command at the cocktail reception. Thomas wanted to ask why, when we left English waters, we went around this tiny island, rather than in between it and the shore, which was the shorter trip. He said that they never do that- it’s too risky and the fuel savings  are not worth it. He looked terrified of us, especially Mr. Captain in training, Thomas K. Wehlen.

We have had two food related scandals- F’s soft serve ice cream fell somewhere in the zone between the machine and our room, so he had to run with the fast melting goo in his hand, all the way to the room. Then Thomas, who has a rare weakness for the stir fry pork in the buffet eating area (not in our precious dining room), encountered a wily foe who stepped in front of him when he briefly hesitated after having served himself the stir fried noodles. She apparently saw there was very little left of the pork and not wanting to take any chances, simply swept in and took almost all for herself.
He is quite rattled about it and won’t let it go. We had to have a long walk around the deck, complete with full reenactment (“Ok you act out the part of the woman, and I'll be the pork..”)

There is much much more, but this has taken too long. Photos maybe tomorrow.

Lech Love

Greetings from the Post hotel- the main competition to the Almhof. Perhaps due to Michael's occasional patronage, they are being extra nice to us, and we were upgraded to the Kaiser suite.  It is insane- larger than several of my old apartments, with a dining room table, and a wood burning fireplace. Also it is just steps from the new outdoor pool-my new favorite place on earth. Our schedule includes long late afternoon lounges in bathrobes under the watchful gaze of the Omeshorn. Then we wander to tea - a silent army in bathrobes, then back to the chaise longues.

Every day we march up and down through bad moods and tired legs, past 16th century huts and baby cows; past church steeples and the town drunk. We walk and walk and walk. It is not always pretty- I experience a lot of self loathing and doubt along the way; but when I get back and my lunch order is in, I am as happy as I ever am. Really- it is a peace very close in intensity to the moment I met Frederick.
I just wish people knew this. Your path to peace is just one very long walk and a good lunch away. It is that simple.

We leave the day after tomorrow for Hamburg to catch the ship. yay. We are all a little amazed that this Exeter thing is in its last quarter. What a joy it has been- just a lovely exchange- I handed over my kid, and he came back better: a little braver, and smarter. I want to tell him that he needs to suck in every single thing about the place before he goes- he needs to do another radio show with his cousin- he needs to get to know the janitors, he needs to try the yoga class and the non fiction poetry with the cute teacher. He needs to check in with the trees and  the little redhead he has not yet met. He needs to eat at the salad bar more, and sing at karaoke night. He needs to go out for fencing.
But alas he will not. He will spend time with his cousins and the Wentworth crew and will take a lot of physics classes. He will mostly stay in his lane, my little left brainer.
But that is still pretty good.

Postscipt: we are on the boat now! just boarded a few hours ago; madly in love as always. Will send Hamburg/QM2 first day update soon. xx

Turtles, Euler Constant and the LMU

Ok where to begin? We had a week bobbing off of southern Turkey with the Wehlies and some huge turtles. All is well. We couldn't get the sleek, sexy boat we usually charter, but instead got this rather nice family wagon with Turkish crew. It included a mad chef who sent up Turkish wonders every day, all day. We are now back in Munich so F can see the famed Ludwig Maximilian University. For some reason I am delighted to be off the water and back in good old Munich. It's been too long.
The passport control at the airport took three seconds with a ridiculously handsome border person asking if I lived here. I found myself saying "Leider nicht."

F liked what he saw- a collection of stunning 18th century buildings in the center of one of his favorite cities on earth; a school that was founded in 1472 and is well known for physics and astronomy. There is no sports team, no greek system, no zany scavenger hunt, and it appears no school color.  Surely they need a color?  I know Amy wants a t-shirt- and she will have one, but the shop is closed for the summer, so online it must be.

The good news is they will guarantee a place for Frederick based on nothing more than decent grades and a nice lump of physics classes under his belt. This is where Exeter comes in handy: it offers a large array of advanced classes- so he's ok. Furthermore, it only takes three years to get an undergraduate degree and it is completely tuition free. Eva is so excited at the prospect of her grandson studying physics in the Vaterland that she just might offer to take him castle shopping. Something discreet with a turret or two.

The only fly in the ointment is they expel the bottom 50% of the class automatically after the first year. Brutal. I am starting to wonder about how the US will keep up with these types..? It seems like most of my friends' kids are studying at major Universities, but none of them have any idea what they want to learn. They just want to go to- fill in the blank- BerkeleyPrincetonHarvardStanford but aren't really sure what comes next. This is why the undergraduate part of the US system is really just the first step. It's the graduate degree where the rubber hits the road in America.

Now don't panic. I didn't say it was this was his first choice. But he is not going to be applying to too many schools if he has this option. What can I say? He is a bit lazy.

Meanwhile the meteor project is heating up...Both of them are now totally ignoring me as they drift into their own heads; either that or arguing in German using the word Matrices. There is some sort of rule for multiplying them, and apparently the spread sheet is not spitting out a reasonable number. I asked how they knew this and they said that the only way a number that big would make sense is if, rather than the meteor smashing into the earth, the meteor and the earth had a head-on collision. Thomas is officially only a sounding board on the spread sheet mechanics, but I know he has been fiddling with it when F is not looking. Too funny.

Lech tomorrow- Schneider dinner party the first night with a wine maker (obviously) and I am sure the usual assortment of communists and bee keepers. What to wear....what to wear.

XXX

I will update this later with photos. check back in.

Beloved Moon

All details to follow! For now must go back to the eclipse, the longest lunar eclipse this century and just four minutes shy of the longest possible. Wildly romantic - but no one here at the hotel is looking at it, so I am going table to table. (no joke).
Frederick is not amused.

Wrapping things up

Fly tomorrow to  Turkey - always sad to leave our little sports oasis, but if I am going to leave, then I am glad the next stop is Istanbul.

Rainer and Devon were here for a few days and R's comment after being fried on a tennis court for 90 minutes as we giggled at his form (that backhand!!), was that a Wehlen vacation always meant pain and should not be entered into lightly.

I am a bit worried about our stats on this trip. We were here for three weeks and never, not once, went to the beach with the intention of staying and hanging out. Sure, we would go atone for whatever sins Protestants seem to think they have committed, by jumping into icy water before breakfast. But that's not the point of a beach. I would see attractive- I mean really attractive Portuguese our age, hanging out there until 7:30 or 8 pm, flirting with each others' husbands and loving life. I know because we ran into them when we were going to dinner at the beach restaurants as they were sexily coming up from the same beach.

In our defense, we had to get to bed early enough to go play tennis and look at impact crater statistics.

Meteor Crater Analysis Update from Thomas:
"The problems with the Euler transformation have been solved. We used the wrong order of matrices at first, but we have it now. Still trying to figure out angle and speed of earth impact. "

I keep asking when I should duck- that's the only thing I want to know-  but they do not seem interested in answering. Reminds me of sailing as a kid with no wind, when the engine went out and a super tanker was within inches: "DO I JUMP OFF NOW POP!????"

Am close to podcast poisoning. The other day on the way to tennis, I made Frederick hold the phone and put the pod on speaker. He kept trying to tell me that this would do me no good. That we knew this already; that all this ranting was not useful. But then he heard something new and he was hooked.
 How many times a week does this come on?????!!!!

But because I am not craaaazy, I am balancing the ranting anti Trump ones with new age meditations. I listen to a Deepak and or Tolle or you name it, for each one. Trouble is, this is making me late for tennis. Thomas came rushing into the room yelling WE ARE LATE!!!! yesterday, as I was deep into Deepak "Oom Shanti Shanti"  And because I had obviously not absorbed any of the message of this whole earth-thing-is-an-illusion-blaring in my ear, I sat up straight: OH SHIT!!! I'll get the rackets, you get the low sugar Portuguese Gatorade !!!!!!!!!!!

What, disease we have exactly is not clear. Who gives a shit if the tennis teacher has to wait?

Love our teacher. His name is Roque and he is ours. We have known him for years, and he is the most beautiful player. Also he is very easy on the eyes, but he does not seem to know it.

It's an old friend's birthday today, and I love my friends' birthdays- (as you all painfully know).  It's so nice to have an official reason to stop and just eat some damn cake. Tell people you love them-

Then forget the rest.

So next stop Mediterranean. Thomas has his swim goggles packed; Frederick has his lap top charged; I have earphones cleaned.

Oh!!! i forgot to tell you, I SIGNED us up for the grand canyon 8 day camping trip in May  (!!!!!!!) At first I was euphoric. Me and Professor Knaut and a bunch of nerds from Germany looking at the rocks and stars. But now I am panicked. I saw a film of what it is like and it was like a Japanese reality show where people are doused in water until they give up. Then I read the most horrible words I have ever read: highly recommended that women wear bikinis - to make the trips to the "bathroom" easier. Except there is NO "bathroom".
Will anyone come with???? I'll throw in a trip to the Aman after...?

LOVE you guys. Today and everyday.

Pods Save America

No news really from over here. Lots of tennis and essay writing and world cup watching and meteor crater analyzing; a little golf and a few cold water swims. The weather is unseasonably cool- more wind than usual, so any extra time not bobbing in the frigid sea, I have filled with ranting left wing podcasts. Thomas says I am up to 8 espressos and four podcasts a day. He is more right than wrong on that.
This morning he walked into the kitchen where I was huddled over my fourth (fourth!) espresso having already gone through the New York Times, a Rachel Maddow show and a ranting email from Boo. I was so agitated over this business of handing over our former ambassador to Russia- that I had no choice but to go to net-a-porter and buy a pair of Gucci red shoes. I mean a girl wants to look good for her new Russian compatriots.
Thomas merely looked over my shoulder at the price and said: "Wow. What did he do now? "

He is a good man for not putting me directly into rehab (I hear they have a good one that combines addiction to caffeine and red leather). God help us. Please God heeeelllllp. And I don't just mean get rid of Trump. I mean please fix what he has he done to us. We are crazed- nervous and furious a lot of the time. Deaths from liver disease have risen dramatically in the US; I am not making this up. I myself am going through an extra large bar of Cadbury's nut and raisin every two days. The brightest spot in my day was the story about Mariachis trying to keep the president up all night. How was I not involved in that..?
Listened to a podcast where Father Rohr spoke to Oprah. (Oh how lovely he is!) He talks about radical grace and not hating people or you will end up becoming them. He says don't take yourself too seriously. I am sure he wants me to soften my heart towards all of the spineless Republican congressmen, and I absolutely will. A little later.

No but seriously, the only good news about Trump going so far off the rails is I actually had a little sympathy for him. It was a miracle. He looked so trapped and pink and pathetic. Whatever it is: a pee pee tape or an offer of help, or money for a Trump Tower Moscow, whatever it is, we will find out. Think about that. No matter what he does, someday we will see him fully exposed. Yes, he might stay in power for 30 years, and we may all need German passports; but eventually we will know he only made three dollars last year, or he likes prostitutes to sing him lullabies in his ex wife's native language. (Ok where did that come from??? lol. Dr. Freud; line one.)

Where was I? yes instead of drinking port wine and flirting with beautiful Portuguese men, I am four hour a day earphones in the ear listening to anything that talks about this mystery: how we got here, how bad it might be. I will listen to anything that will make me feel superior for knowing he was am impossibly damaged human being before other people did. SEE?? I TOLD YOU!!!

For a while we were ending the evenings watching an Israeli Netflix show called Fauda. God how I loved that show. The actor playing the main character is a real Arab Israeli former special forces guy who I was so in love with, I would miss him just a little bit during the day. Yes it was biased towards Israel, but it did show the brutality too, how many Palestinians innocents get killed.  Thomas finally put a stop to this podcasts-followed-by-beheadings-in-the-middle-east schedule, and has got us watching Planet Earth 2. You MUST watch!!! remember Planet Earth 1? those incredible pictures? Well this next one took 10 years and it is astounding-the perfect antidote to the news.

I am also re-reading the Seat of the Soul- 25th anniversary addition. It is written by a former navy seal who returned from Vietnam and sank into deep PTSD depression. He only came out of it when a friend introduced him to the idea of Quantum Physics; he got so interested that he began going over to Lawrence Livermore Lab to speak with the hippie physicists there. Zukov believes, as do I, that the greatest physicists of our time were also great mystics. From these interviews he wrote Dancing Wu Li masters- which won the national book award for science. I have bought it, but not read it yet- but I am of course intrigued by this duality of science and spirituality- the biggest questions asked by the smartest people, the beauty and mystery of mathematics, the twinkling of stars. Anyway his next book, The Seat of the Soul is a little out there, but I love it; and it helps. That and the pictures of the little snow leopard with her mother.

At dinner, Thomas tuned out for a minute while I was explaining what I had heard that day on Pod Save America- (fellow addicts: check out Marcy Wheeler's blog) and then he said: "Oh sorry, I was calculating how fast the moon goes around earth". I mean really. Is that not the best excuse for ignoring your wife ever? Swoon.
I asked what Frederick had come up with so far, and Thomas said with no sense of irony: "it seems Keppler's formula holds up." lol. I could have told them that was a pretty good bet and gone for a swim, but to each his own.

Meantime we try to focus on hitting the ball a little more in front of us;  to pick the best white peaches at the farmer's market in Loulé. We try to get the milk foamer to work better, because it makes milk warm but not foamy.

It is not lost on me that while his mother rants about psycho assholes who cannot tell the truth, and then buys red shoes that are probably made in sweat shops, Frederick is toiling away at his little spread sheet- counting the 8, 502 near earth objects that swirl dangerously close to our precious earth. He is asking big questions while I ask the tiniest; looking up while I look down at my amex.

I intend to stop and I definitely will.


Postscript:
In the final version of this entry you may have noticed that our president's name was changed to Trump. This was done by Frederick - a neat trick one can do on one's laptop where the man's name is automatically changed, in very article, every single time. It's not much, but it's something.
vive la resistance.

"One, remember to look up at the stars and not down at your feet. Two, never give up work. Work gives you meaning and purpose and life is empty without it. Three, if you are lucky enough to find love, remember it is there and don't throw it away.  Stephen Hawking


OK Greetings from Quinta do Lago.... headquarters for bad tennis, world cup viewing,  space exploration and college essay writing. F is -how shall I put this? not that into the idea of writing 50 essays about himself. He has basically finished his main one, and I have to say I quite like it. "Space is no place to leave a friend" is about the downgrading of Pluto and why he cares. The first draft was a dry, point by point rendition of why the science was flawed. Total crap.
"Frederick" I said, "this is supposed to be about you; why does it matter to you." "You have to show a little leg; make us care. "
He wants to kill us.

But then we had a conversation about anthropomorphizing and the Pearls before Swine Comic strip and somehow it is lurching towards being finished.

The Caltech one is a dooozy. It basically asks you to talk about the science projects you have done in your basement since you were a tiny kid; the time you almost blew up the dorm experimenting with nitrogen; and your plan for stopping a near earth object hitting earth. In 500 words or less.
Don't make your reservations at Pie and Burger just yet Kathy!!

He did write a good one for Chicago (how I love them over there) where the prompt is simply "Where is Waldo?" and he compared Waldo to an electron and somehow weaved in Schrödinger's cat. I didn't understand it, but it was amusing.

Ok since this is a travel blog where were we? London was hot and really fun. K and P are in great shape- exciting things ahead for work, and they have a new apartment that looks amaaaaaazing.

Had dinner with Thomas' father's partner Patrick Q.- the closest person I know to the Auntie Mame character. He lives only four months in London now in a house that is so big it used to be a convent. The rest of the time he is in Africa, bouncing between Cape Town and two game reserves he owns. He tells stories in stream of consciousness form, picking up on one word, or a famous person mentioned at the table and running with it. "Richard Branson? good friend, terrible shot, can't hit the side of a barn, was just with him shooting rifles out of the sunroof in the Cotswold's. Almost got thrown in the clink.
David Frost? won't speak to me after that dinner party where we talked about culling animals. Lions? 85% of the time, if you fell out of the jeep , they would run. I have been charged thirty times but then they ran away.  Needed new underpants every time."

But the absolute best story was when he flew Emirates and the plane was stopped on the runaway for a burka clad, obese princess. She entered the plane surrounded by an army of Phillipine maids, while screaming into her cell phone,

Patrick told her to lower her voice, she was disturbing everyone.
She did.

Then, a few hours into the flight, a maid approached from the back of the plane with a bed pan, and- there is no easy way to say this, but you might want to forget about that beer you were opening. ..
put it under the royal burka...after which followed the sound of tinkling. The pan was taken to God knows where on the plane, and another maid approached with a towel for a royal wiping.
Patrick was in her row in first class...alas not far enough away to
miss getting the full picture. His friend was behind them laughing so hard he almost choked.
 "Bastard wouldn't switch seats with me".

No big breakthrough on the meteor project; we will let you know if we find a new planet.

                                                           
Announcement section! please see the trump baby blimp above. Some enterprising- fellow Trump haters have built a giant ballon that resembles Trump in diapers. It will fly over London during his visit. Please donate! They might have enough money to go on a world tour- following Trump where ever he goes.  Claus found it so funny he gave too- and he is not normally into idiotic things like I am. But we are all so inspired. I only hope the blimp can go right up to the window where DT is meeting- hard to keep spewing with that in one's line of vision.             

                   And, in coffee news- Thomas has bought a small espresso machine and placed it in an unused bathroom downstairs. I go there in the early morning and drink an unscheduled overly strong coffee while the Teutons sleep. Not a bad place for a coffee actually...I told the confused and wonderful couple that work here that it was my speakeasy. I don't know how to say that in Portuguese but I think they got the whole bathtub gin concept. They are fully supportive.


              

Ode to Joy

Greetings Earthlings...!

I am writing to you from Sedona after a very pleasant evening star gazing with my new best friend Professor Knauth. Phoenix in summer has a dystopic vibe if you ask me- the heat is brutal obviously,  but unlike let's say Dubai- it drys you out. It 's like that Disney movie where the witch looks with horror as her hands shrivel into prunes. You have a sense that you don't have much time until you lose all life sustaining water in your body, so you don't stroll in Phoenix, you scurry -like a cockroach leaving the light.

But the real estate market is booming, so maybe I don't have the right attitude.

We stay at the huge Phoenician with the very un-Schneider like welcome. The procedure for checking into a large American hotel is based on their apparent fear you will stiff them on the bill. You must produce IDs and credit cards for your room, and then they hold your kidney as ransom for your bar bill. Then once all the paper work is done, you are told that the room is not ready. They have taken your luggage to a secure location (much like Trumps' toddler jails) but "you are welcome to swim!!" (in what bathing suit?) When our rooms are finally ready, she tells Frederick and me that we are in "Casita K.  As in Carry". This kind of thing cracks up F who is cocky with the vocab now ever since he got published.
 I told him she must have meant Kerry as in John, as she seemed so up to speed on world affairs.

Ok but to the main event- after creeping along in the shade until the dinner hour, we arrive at a mall somewhere in the desert for our blind date with the Professor. He and his wife are younger and fitter than I thought, his wife teaches yoga to the elderly and has for years. They seem to have little interest in fancy food or fermented drinks....it was self service which I found sad, but I went with it. Our hero Professor K has his undergraduate from the University of Chicago and his PHD from the sacred soil of Caltech. He said plenty of classes in high school he did poorly in, because he took the hardest ones, for the joy of it- and never really thought about the grade.

He is now retired from Arizona State University where he taught geology, astronomy and probably everything else.  He is a living breathing Renaissance man: geochemistry, astrology, classical music, Shakespeare, mathematics. He said he was walking down a hallway in high school and was stopped in his tracks by the most beautiful music he had ever heard, and became an instant life-long classical music fanatic. I asked him what the piece was- and he said without hesitation: the final movement of Beethoven's ninth- what we know as Ode to Joy.  If you meet him, you will see of course that song in him- all that genius and joy; all that dancing with chaos.

His father was an inventor of the old fashioned variety- meaning he made his living from it. Together they built this amazing, hugely heavy telescope that the Professor uses to this day (he has another one as well). In retirement this is how he spend his time:  he puts the old telescope via a contraption he invented into a trailer that looks like a horse trailer, and goes into the desert and looks at the stars  until the sun rises.
After dinner, he very elegantly set up everything and pointed the telescope toward the things he wanted us to see. I heard Thomas emit something between a gasp and a giggle when he saw the moon and all the craters so close. He also pointed at Jupiter and a few of her satellites, Venus, (but she wasn't really cooperating- there was too much dust or movement or something), and we got to see two stars that orbit each other in what must be the most beautiful dance. He told us that 40% of all stars exist in pairs (who knew?) and ours is of course a single mother with her little planets. In addition to the craters, we saw tiny mountain ranges on the moon; and a little stripe across Jupiter. It was just so beautiful, but more than that it was calming. Because it's all ok really. We aren't that great a species, sure; but we did write Ode to Joy, and a little boy and his father built this telescope.

As you know,  equal to my interest in those little moons, is following around explorers like Knauth. I am nothing if not a pilot fish mooching off of the adventuresome sharks. I won't build a thousand pound telescope or risk horrible humiliation by taking quantum physics myself, but I wait eagerly at the knees of people who do.  In my opinion, they hold the absolute secret to life; they are in on the whole joke and I want them to explain it to me.

For the past 30 years he has taken a sold-out river tour through the Grand Canyon talking about geology in the day and astronomy at night. I told Thomas we are going. Thomas is worried about me using a god knows what for a toilet and him not getting exercise for 8 days. But we will manage. My friend (he signs that now on emails..lol) says I am eminently canoe worthy...or was it raft...? There is a strict no day-drinking policy- LOL.
 Because we are not some booze cruise. This is a raft of SEEKERS....singing in German all the way.

Before this gets too long and boring, I have to tell you what he did for the eclipse...basically sleeping out in Oregon for days and then with the very powerful telescope he has, timing it perfectly so he could look directly at the sun for exactly 45 seconds. If he got the timing off, i.e. if the sun were not perfectly behind the moon, he would - because of the strength of the mirror on his scope, "fry the inside of his skull".  Literally.
I hope Frederick grows up to be a man like that- a man who wants to look into the sun, and the brains to know how to do it.
He told us he can't describe the colors he saw.

Ok now to the CRATER! First- Sedona is heaven....! it is staggeringly beautiful, the hotel is great (Enchantment something) food good, margaritas strong and lots of Native American quotes and flute music everywhere.
I will definitely come back.

We drive through some National Park of indescribable beauty to the crater which is on a 300,000 acre cattle ranch right off of the old dusty route 66. The asteroid hit 50,000 years ago traveling 26,000 miles an hour, destroyed everything in a 15 mile radius, is a mile wide, and what else..? Oh we saw a huge chunk of asteroid itself and were just blown away. The crater creates a wind tunnel, so on the rim itself there can be over 100 mile an hour winds, hence how weird we look in the photo...we had hot air in our face for the 30 minute tour.

I should post this, but I am sure I forgot something.....stay tuned for addendum.

Meantime, listen to a little Beethoven and by all means sing along! My friend lying in the dirt in the desert would approve.

O friends, no more these sounds!
Let us sing more cheerful songs,
more full of joy!

Joy, bright spark of divinity,
Daughter of Elysium,
Fire-inspired we tread
Thy sanctuary.

Thy magic power re-unites
All that custom has divided,
All men become brothers
Under the sway of thy gentle wings.

Whoever has created
An abiding friendship,
Or has won
A true and loving wife,
All who can call at least one soul theirs,
Join in our song of praise;
But any who cannot must creep tearfully
Away from our circle.

All creatures drink of joy
At nature's breast.
Just and unjust
Alike taste of her gift;

She gave us kisses and the fruit of the vine,
A tried friend to the end.
Even the worm can feel contentment,
And the cherub stands before God!

Gladly, like the heavenly bodies
Which He set on their courses
Through the splendor of the firmament;
Thus, brothers, you should run your race,
As a hero going to conquest.

You millions, I embrace you.
This kiss is for all the world!

Brothers, above the starry canopy
There must dwell a loving Father.

Do you fall in worship, you millions?
World, do you know your creator?

Seek him in the heavens;
Above the stars must He dwell.

Training Capsule for astronauts at the crater

meteorite