Nothing Bad Ever Happens in Confoederatio Helvetica

 

We are now fully tucked into the Gasthof Post here in Lechy Lech- rain is falling after a sunny day, so all is good. One H. Tan is visiting us here and seems to have taken to the Austrian lifestyle quite quickly- a super star guest in all ways.

Had a few days in Switzerland a country whose cleanliness, order, and beauty never fail to amaze me. In the “Nothing bad ever happens in Switzerland” column, we were walking down the famed Bahnhofstrasse - a street that looks like it could be actually paved in gold, when we saw a woman fly off her bicycle into the street (it was rainy and the tram lines are really slippery). I kid you not, before we could even cross over to get to her, there appeared two police vans as if they follow people on rainy days who look iffy on bikes. The whole Covid scare seems to be, for now, in the Swiss re view mirror : we ate at one of our favorite restaurants in town and it was absolutely full. One had to wear a mask at the buffet but that was the only nod to the virus.

We snuck out most mornings to get strong coffee and this mango birchemuesli I become attached to. The Wehlie parent body do not, no way, no how understand the concept of going out for breakfast (one eats in high heels and pearls at home). We had to explain to them every morning what exactly we did. “But where did you do this? Who brought it to you?’ The interesting part was in front of the cafe was an area that was meant for buses, pedestrians, trucks, cars, children on scooters- anything. Apparently research has shown that fewer pedestrians die when motorists share the space with them without any lines telling anyone where to go. It assumes that people in cars don’t want to run over the kid holding a lollipop, and it of course works. Because nothing bad ever happens in Switzerland. 

Took a long walk as usual and saw all kinds of things one does not normally see from the car, but are so exquisitely Swiss in their diversity. For no discernible reason,  there was a mini park for goats where they had their own little house with shelving on the side so the goats could feel they were high up on a Swiss mountain; a state of the art military trying facility where men were fully decked out with M -4 rifles and hand grenades (against runaway goats perhaps); fields of tall corn; large expensive property for horse riding and boarding; and a public shooting range to train the public against invading Germans. My point is, it is this strange combination of great wealth and farming; neutrality during war time, but heavily militarized. 

So here we are in Lech sleeping behind enemy lines as I call it (the Post is the main competitor to the Almhof) . We are trying to get as much of Austria into Henry’s stomach as we can in 10 short days. So far he has had his first Weiner schnitzel, and Kaiserschmarrn as well as my favorite- Tafelspitz (boiled beef) with spinach purée and apple horseradish. F seems to have discovered the joy of an open bar and how beers magically appear before them whenever they look parched. I keep mumbling about losing brain cells but they seem to think a year of Exeter health class has them up to speed. 

We have dined with the Schneidies and scion Luis took the boys around; he is now away for a few days then back here with the brothers from a German/American family who come at Christmas. Best of all we get Hanna! She comes tomorrow for 10 days…we are sure to be more popular with her around. 

The vibe at this hotel is really so different: they embrace the whole antlers on every wall and angels frescoed on bed frame look. My beloved black turtlenecks across the road have gone in a different alpine direction shall we say. 

Our first night we met a couple speaking American English who are originally from Albany New York; they now live in a pretty town on a lake not far from here. “Oh why did you decided to move to Austria?” I ask. The man who is in late 70s looks at me for a long menacing moment and says “Because we just couldn’t live in America any more”. I say oh….what year did you move? 

“2010”. 

So we figure 89% chance they left because Obama was smelly and when we told them we lived in San Francisco, they stopped speaking to us. It’s like being in high school with 80 year olds who snub you in the lunch room, if at this high school the  cool crowd wore dirndls and boiled wool jackets  (right wing chic). I feel like yelling across the dining room: : "So you left because of Obama care only to move to a country where you enjoy FREE UNIVERSAL COVERAGE???? "

FOR YOUR INFORMATION I AM A VERY POPULAR PERSON-I HAVE A COLD PLUNGE NAMED AFTER ME ACROSS THE STREET! !!

You see why we need Hanna to come. At this rate I will have no one to talk to besides the antlers. 

Spoiled Swiss Goats

Dueling Birchermuesli

Tafelspitz at the Burg Hotel 

Käsespätzle at the Krigeralpe

Few Photos

 

Flamingos near our beach

Beach at Lagos, a town an hour from us. Super crowded and tiny

The three of us on our next album cover

The scene at 5 pm chez Wehlen

Uncertain Bananas

Phone accidentally took a photo of knee exposed to chaos. I am calling this shot "Wrinkly knee upon Portuguese stone"

My notes for the blog this week included the following: (My physicist editor's comments are in red.)

Dark Matter vs Dark energy

How I love the water

Prison Portuguese

Be grateful for eclipses 

Tanks tops not for everyone

San Lorenzo barbecue

Why the moon looks half full

The only moon that can be seen in daylight

*The full moon is the only moon phase technically that cannot be seen in daylight, although if you live at extreme latitudes you can see the full moon during the day too...I'm not sure what my mother's not is referring to, and upon asking, I found out neither is she

Dinner Pecundo Mundo 

Rally Driving 

Entropy

Don’t be tired.  

So there you go. 

Entering the last week here before we head to the hills. We will mooch/fly with the Wehlies on a private flight to Switzerland; then after a few days, drive to Lech. 

F and Thomas were explaining to me how after the singularity- the one thing that started everything - the thing before the big bang, the one thing-  after that, things have been moving toward entropy. I thought entropy was decay, but it is chaos, disorder, uncertainty. So a rotting banana is more uncertain than a green one. Poor little uncertain banana- I feel its pain. I do not appreciate the entropy either. 

*Not sure that you can define entropy as uncertainty....also not sure that a rotten banana is uncertain (death seems pretty certain to me).

Entropy was going on before the pandemic, but I just see it now-all the confused fruit and disorganized wrinkly knees. My California style self help meditations give emergency instructions: stay small. See the ants do their work. Listen to the owl hoot. Watch Simone Biles if I can ever figure out what time it is there. 

Also very helpful is to stare down the cold North Atlantic and jump in. Thomas cannot figure out why here and only here I am the first one in such cold water and the last one out. I don’t know either, but it is like a person slapping you in the face when you need it. A wave is coming; stop thinking and dive under 

The other day I was marveling at how after 25 years, I cannot say a damn thing beside cake and thank you in Portuguese. It must be some kind of warp in the space time continuum that a person can stay unscathed by language for this long. Then it occurred to me that all we needed to do was go to a Portuguese jail for 6 months and we would be perfect. Thomas said fine but my crime would have to be worse than his because blondes always get off easy. 

We live near the church of San Lorenzo as well as the San Lorenzo golf club. Fun fact- San Lorenzo was barbecued for tax evasion …so pictures of him are always of him dragging a barbecue around. Of course this is sort of funny- and that is a reminder that we can really laugh about anything if enough time goes by. (they barbecued him!! Hahahaha!) 

I must remember to tell this to my poor green bananas-decay will seem hilarious in a few hundred years.

The thing about entropy is that we would be nothing without it. Without chaos, nothing would ever have changed from the singularity. And while change is not really my jam, without it, there would be no us: no Bode Miller, no cold beers, no kittens, no snowflakes, no south Atlantic Ocean. The same thing that gives us wrinkly knees gives us Mahlers Symphony no 5 in C sharp minor. 

*In physical terms the universe would not be able to convert thermodynamic energy into work without an increase in entropy and we'd live in a sad, static, albeit orderly, universe.

 A lot of people in Europe wear tank tops when they shouldn’t. That was a note in my “blog notes” and so I am putting it in. 

We had a substitute tennis teacher the other day- a 20 year old who really wants us to be all that we can be. I always find enthusiasm like this funny. He even gives instructions to us when we are not playing with him. When he yelled across his court to mine to move my feet more I said: “This is my ME time!! “ Anyway like all people who don’t speak perfect English, he has some expressions that are strangely zen. He likes to yell “Don’t be tired!” Which I just love- not dont be lazy, or don’t be hesitant; Don’t Be Tired. I yell it between shots now because it is so hot and I am in fact tired. And you know what? It works; because here is the other thing about entropy: we can create less disorder right in front of us through energy- we can clean up our rooms or build a house. It sort of means pushing the chaos onto someone else’s door step but that is for another lecture. 

For now, that banana needs to do knee bends and so do I. 

*I don't think bananas can do knee bends but am happy to be fact checked on that

Lastly a word on eclipses. F reminded me that if the moon were a different size or a different distance from us we wouldn’t get such cool eclipses. Everything sort of banged into the right size. 

*The moon and sun just happen to take up the same solid angle (3D angle look it up if you want an image) in the sky, so we get eclipses where the moon just barely covers the sun. As the moon is slowly spiraling outward, this will no longer be the case in a few hundred million years and we will get less interesting, less frequent eclipses. Similarly, a few hundred million years ago the moon had a larger angular size than the sun, so eclipses were more frequent.

So there you have it-the update from the speck of the universe called Portugal. I promise to fill everyone in on dark matter vs dark energy on the next one. In the meantime: spread some chaos around; or don't. But whatever you do: 

don't be tired.

Chico weighing in for later official comparison

One of several death marches through the desert

New fav cafe next to new fav sushi

F on his evening stroll through the hood

Força Portugal!

An alert blog reader has informed me that there has not been a blog since January. Since it is now July, I will try finally to write something down. First stop after crazy town Miami was Comporta- a chic bohemian beach town about an hour south of Lisbon with very attractive architecture: contemporary takes on straw huts, and houses filled with African art. It has none of the Mc Mansion vibe of Quinta do Lago where I am now. 

In Comporta there are lovely dunes with beach restaurants, and fewer golf courses or tennis centers. Last time we were there (see previous blog with green pool), I remarked that the visitors were chic French people or middle aged Lisboners who seemed to be in love after many years of marriage. 

We rented a nice house last year with the idea of quarantining here before seeing the Wehlens; they did not take a refund, so we went this year (ACB had business in Geneva so the whole gang came along). The house overlooks these large rice fields- a 10 minute bike ride to the beach. Our basic routine was no routine, eight people all of whom woke at different times, ate different breakfasts, exercised at different hours, and had widely different opinions on drip vs espresso. F and Hanna seemed partial to a quiet relaxing breakfast a deux in town charged on my card, while Kate and Charlie played things more by ear. I don't have much to say on Comporta other than it is stylish and wonderful and you should all visit. 

Everything was made more poignant of course by this horrible pandemic, and we all noticed little things more acutely: Margaret said after she heard us laughing as we played Around The World ping pong, that she thought every mile of the 6,000 miles traveled was worth it. I began noticing how little birds hop instead of walk, and that seemed to me as good a reason as any to get up in the morning. 

 I had plans to really hit the vacation ground running post vaccine; but the truth is it really won't be a hot vaxed summer for any of us. There are too many people dead to forget, and so many who can't get the shots, or worse, think it will interfere with the reception on their tin foil hats. In addition, it seems that staying inside for 18 months has aged most of us quite a bit and I am not sure the strength is coming back. So here chez Wehlen we are moving very slowly- as we hope liberal applications of sun and movement will coax us back to the way we were. 

 Thomas and I have a tendency to try to get people back up on their horses, to "force people to their happiness" as the Germans say. Many of our people do not appreciate this; but we are not deterred. Four out of five of us now go to the physical therapist twice a week. (C is the only abstainer); Thomas makes protein smoothies for his mother and makes her do her homework from the physio. In the evening we have "concerts" in the car to keep the synapses firing-last night was Paul Simon (whom they loved), followed by Eminem. They say they don't understand what Eminem is saying, but "he seems serious about it". Every evening we say to each other that we should leave them alone and let them live their day without our coaching; and every day we forget. 

 As usual we play tennis and go to the gym (hence the need for physical therapy) and I have added lap swims in an attempt to get better at swimming. Thomas agreed to look at my stroke and just couldn't resist walking back and forth along the pool like the coach he is. As happens every year, I worry that we are supposed to be in Portugal but see mostly tennis courts. All this constant activity is very un-Comporta where the ethos is more geared toward long lunches and fewer knee bends. 

 The two big changes we see around here are there are noticeably more rolls royces and padel tennis is now the thing the hip elderly are playing. The cars are difficult to explain- there was always the occasional Lamborghini driven by a soccer player, but now there is one after the other of these ridiculous Rolls Royces- they seem so out of place by the beach. I guess enough people came down here during Covid and the cars (and dogs!) came too. The padel tennis is not the same sport that one plays on the roof of the QM2; that is paddle, and this is padel. This kind is played in mostly Latin countries and the ball can be played off of the glass wall. It looks ridiculous, but the players are mucho serous about it- and have headbands and fancy rackets cases like a professional tennis player lugs around Wimbledon only these are tiny. We are both very tempted to try it and happy scoffing at them from the sidelines. 

We are hoping to put a few pounds on F after his last hellish semester in which he took four classes (the average number people take is three) while doing his research project. Margaret was quite astonished at the sight and set about getting calories into him even if it meant taking food out of her own children's mouths. Below is what we will refer to as the "before" photo. I shall post an after if any progress is made. 

Is any one else suffering from existential dread this summer? (Asking for a friend). Uncle T seemed sure this would be like the summer of 67 in the Haight Ashbury- all joy and babes from out of town. 

I feel more like the ground hog who is not sure he wants to come out. Outside is so bright- the earth is either burning or flooding, and everyone seems so fragile. Were human bones always this breakable? 

I want to be like those suburbanites in the 50s who were happy mowing their lawns; not a thought given to heat waves or cancer. But because this blog aims above all else to raise the level of its readers sleep quality; it will henceforth add a section: "Tidbits of Astrophysics that are so mind bending, one cannot help but think it is all going to be ok." (TFATASMOCHBTIIAGTBO; aka: TFATOK). 

Stay tuned loyalists...In the meantime. just concentrate on the very smallest things- not the backhand but the angle of the wrist while hitting it; not the flower, but the cute bug walking on it; not the bird, but its song.  

TFATOK!

emotional landing in Lisbon - first time in Europe in so long

Living room I could move in right now

This is sort of a spring time in Dachau look for Chico...."astrophysicist chic" 

Cuzzys

Path along rice fields 

This is your average middle aged man's attire at the beach in Comporta. Scarf is mandatroy

Our new fav lunch place in Quinta- in a huge outdoor nursery

Getting ready to face Miami international

Kids bar by the pool

Hip Comporta beach restaurant

Haven't Sunk Just Yet

I am not going to post much on the (sweet Jesus, make it come faster) Inauguration day because the Sellies are determined to get the Wehlies to day drink. I told Chuck that drinking at 9 am, (noon eastern) was not the poetic way to celebrate; instead a full baptism was needed. We needed to get into the Bay and frolic with the seals and wash the orange away. 

Unfortunately, my talent for planning parties gets away from me sometimes, and now I am seriously re considering, (remember the time Thomas wanted take out sushi on his birthday and he ended up with paramedics by his bed after a 6 piece jazz band with trumpet, and two sushi chefs and a sake tasting bar were set up?) 

But who knows- come down to Chrissy Field at 7 am and watch us try. Whiskey and sea shanties will be provided.

As for January 6th, I cannot add to what Paul Simon said below.  Keep singing my people. 

No, I would not give you false hope
On this strange and mournful day
But the mother and child reunion
Is only a motion away

Tropical Post Election Post smeared with Chocolate Croissant

Les Amis du Vent 

Bonjour bloggers! 

 I have been trying to think of a way to describe what the election was like for us here in paradise, and the best way is for you to imagine a cartoon where the characters are on a roller coaster. You know the one where they descend a near vertical slope in a tiny car? And their eyes are wide open but they are not screaming? But then they go up again? and then down...up and down, up and down. Like idiots. 

 On November 3, we were assembled at our table (happily so because we thought we were going to crush this due to last minute tropical confidence), waiting for our talented and lovely chef, Margaux, to serve dinner. Then Thomas tells us Florida is going for Trump and all hell broke loose. I blame Thomas because he was the one that told me. Andrew starts to moan; Margaret (thank god we married her) goes into therapist mode and tells us something useful and kind that we ignore. The poor chef...she presents dinner: TA DA!! and none of us eat. This lasted for a maximum of an hour or two before I decide to retreat to my beautiful, silent bedroom to stare at the overhead fan. That is all I could think to do. Andrew does the same in his room (Brighams fell first..like the largest trees in the forest). Thomas stays near MSNBC and his secret stash of polls. Peter calls Andrew from London and cannot fathom that we are scattered around the house and "don't know where Ellie is".  If there were any doubt about having Andrew or me in the fox hole with you, let this make it clear that you probably don't. 

So we somehow sleep for a few hours, and then stumble awake to what I think will be a new world hell-scape, but instead see a beautiful St Barths sunrise and a tiny ray of hope: 

Biden won Arizona. Fox news called it; Trump is pissed. 

So we have breakfast. Every morning between 6 and 7 am our disturbingly handsome "butler" drops off baguettes and chocolate croissant and regular croissant and orange juice. We eat it all, because Arizona is worth a croissant. The yoga teacher we have hired shows up and is such a mean, critical person that we fall in love. She is all sharp edges and competence; she hates Trump, and us...and we welcome her loathing, because we hate us too. It had a distinct dominatrix vibe to it actually: all pain and insults. But we stay in the moment and now we feel better. Votes are still coming in. The odds have gone from 70 percent chance Trump win to 70 percent chance he will lose. Andrew is now dabbling in euphoria and decides to drink at lunch. He doesn't tempt fate with champagne, but he downs a few beers. Now the mini rollercoaster car is chugging up a steep rise hill, and we are virtually on our backs looking at the sky. 

And so it goes for the next few days...but each downhill ride is shorter. Until finally, mercifully, my phone blows up while we are scouting a lunch place and then and only then we drink champagne on the beach. But truth be told Trump screwed us on that too...it just wasn't the same as that night when Obama won.

Ok I know you just want to hear about St. Barths. I am here to report that it is in fact as good as they say. I was thinking that I wouldn't be seduced, that it was all rosé and celebrities; but it is beautiful. Yes, there are many drunk people- depressing couples where the man is penniless and gay and the older woman is the only one who doesn't know. And there are the armies of 20 year old girls who spend 82.5% of their time taking selfies in front of the restaurant. But there are also the largest collection of handsome French men I have ever seen. (Who knew this was where they all went?) The pilots who flew us, and couldn't figure out why we didn't want champagne on the flight, the man who takes care of us, the construction workers, the waiters...it is crazy land of beauty. And the whole island is filled with happy people, except for the yoga teacher (who comes 3 times a week). It is almost shocking to hear that accent paired with a cheerful smile. I would say the island is so spectacular that it deserves a little more reverence than it is given: less traffic and fewer Russian oligarchs would be nice perhaps. But St. Barths can withstand it-such is its grandeur. 

One side of St. Barths looks like Scotland, but with turquoise water crashing below cliffs. .The island has numerous natural pools, and there are goats and turtles everywhere, including our house. We love the turtles so much, we stop the car wherever we are to help them cross the road (they really are slow.) Some of the beaches we go to are at fancy hotels on the beach with lovely service and models wandering through showing what is available to buy; and some are more remote. Below is a photo of me at Columbier beach, below the old Rockefeller estate, that can only be reached by 20 minute hike, or by boat. 

Of course when we got there a group of four rather fit, middle aged nudists came strolling by, rosé in hands; and yes they were Americans. 

The tans made me think they may have been partial to Trump. 

Email from MMB 

 

Holy hell...this thing is in less than two weeks. As you know, Margaret and Andrew and I will be raising our little power fists from under the shade of a palm tree on November 3; because we are cowards.

A little while back, a judge told the Trump administration to re unite the border children with their parents without delay. But the Trumps just came back and reported, one presumes sheepishly, that they can't find them. Seemed to have lost the parents. 

So I ask, if by some chance a one issue, Pro Life voter accidentally stumbled upon this blog: shouldn't a living, breathing child be protected as dearly as a four day old fetus from a rapist? Asking for a friend. 

Luckily, I recently read the book "Breath" and it shows how one can change one's entire life simply by breathing through the nose. So while I have no tips for getting through the next few months of civil war between fat, Covid lunged gun owners and suburban women who have been on the Peleton for 6 hours a day; I can offer this: breathe slowly from the nose. Just do that. (Laughing is also always a good plan- I mean just thinking of our elite team of drag queens in camo leggings will get you through a few days.)

What do we do if democracy is over? I don't know...but I do get solace from the fact that on our side we have Richard Feynman (I know he is dead) and Stephen Colbert. We have Obama, and George Clooney and the Pope; Larry David and Steve Schmidt and Steph Curry and Tony Fauci. (And I haven't even gotten to the girls yet). So the underground resistance meetings will be fun.

As a Republican anti-Trumper recently said: 

"It's all over now but the voting and the cheating."

Photos sent from Taco Bell parking lot in Susanville Ca

 Hellllooooow! Here comes quickest blog ever:

On our way to another camp but first we had to stop in a small town to do some work- Thomas yelling in German about money wiring and trading instructions from a taco bell parking lot, while Frederick talked to Chicago Astrophysicists about the van. He got some real Nerd Street Cred being in this baby. That is all they wanted to walk about. 

Then a truly unadvisable visit to the drive through where Thomas refused to speak to the person through the intercom because he is convinced people don't understand him..so I had to and then when we had ordered exactly 1,000 items, and heard the total was $23 dollars we all simultaneously started laughing. 

We don't need to be snobs, but it is a different planet here honey. 

Field with volcanic rocks 

Visit to a Salt Lake (terrible smell)

Please note that I am as always fully accessorized 

Dirty feet making bed

close up

Paulina Lake

Crater Lake

RV park with tiniest RV ever

Inhabitant of space 26 cooking marinated flank steaks

My ridiculed but successful salads

Ellie speaking in the local dialect over her little German's head.