Showing posts with label Guest Blogger. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Guest Blogger. Show all posts

Monday, February 25, 2008

Things I learned on the sleeper train to Germany (from Dylan)

Got this funny email from Dylan. He's on his way to Germany with Toby (hopefully he will have surgery and return better, but we don't know yet). Because my initial post today was not particularly funny, I thought I would share Dylan's perspective again:


-Three-year-old boys can sleep 7 hours on a sleeper train without any problems


- I am not a three-year-old boy.


- Airlines and Rail Services all get their pillows from the same place.


-You REALLY do not want to share a sleeping compartment with a stranger. In theory you could fit three but Toby was claustrophobic the minute he got in the "middle" bunk. I could not fit my head in this bunk (seriously).


-You will develop a deep sense of paranoia that you are missing your stop. My paranoia kept me from sleeping, and when I did sleep, I dreamed about missing my stop - which caused me to wake up again.


- I am no longer 16 and cannot jump onto the top bunk with one short hop... I need to use the ladder like any other old person.


-Do not place your three-year-old on the top bunk, you'll just end up sleeping even less and eventually (after that third or fourth abrupt stop) you're going to trade places anyway because your wife will kill you if you injure your son while taking him to the hospital.


-European train conductors are more paranoid than I am. The lady was very nice when she took my tickets ( first time they have ever taken my tickets, I got them back in the morning so it was as if she was just holding them for me) and gave me a three minute lecture (all in Polish of course) about how I need to lock both the chain and the deadbolt of my door... Then the paranoia goes up as I imagine the gangs that must rove through these cars that will knock down the door with a chain and tie up everyone inside, but who will steer clear of those who use the chain and the dead bolt. The doors are paper thin, why don't the just cut through with a plastic knife from the galley if they really want in?


- 15 starts and stops at various stations across Poland and Germany will not wake a sleeping three-year-old; the mere thought of cracking open the window so I can see the stop so we don't miss it will however get him right out of bed.


-Having your kid dressed in pajamas at 11:30 at night is adorable - same kid dressed in the same pajamas in a train station at 1:00 the following afternoon is apparently child neglect.


-The free water they serve in "first class" is soda water, this is important to know because when you take that first drink expecting flat water, you may inadvertently think someone is trying to poison you.


-8 minutes is not nearly enough time to learn the German S-Bahn rail system, even though the people who sell the tickets seem to think it is.


-If you sit in First Class on the German trains with one kid who is semi-quiet, apparently no one will ever question you.

(Scroll down for today's post from Kylie:).

Wednesday, February 13, 2008

Guest Blogger

This is will be the first post of the day, as I have a little more to say about other stupid stuff. Dylan has requested to be guest blogger for today as he would like to share his trip to Germany with Toby with everyone. So here's Dylan:

Europeans do not like Children. There, I’ve said it – Most likely it will get any flaming responses by anyone who is googling for anti-European comments declarations, so I will elaborate. Of course it’s a blanket statement, and for the most part untrue, but the fact that much of Europe has a negative population growth suggests they’re not producing a whole lot of new kids. That or they’re killing off their old people at an alarming rate. For discussion’s sake, let’s go with the former.


I lived in Germany for three years, and while we only had one child at the time, the two-week “Intro to Germany” class that I took at the base, taught by an American officer’s wife, suggested that if you take your kids to the restaurant, please do so early so that less patrons would have to put up with your kids. Also, we were briefed that dogs were widely accepted at all restaurants, but kids were a little more touchy – because (yes she really said this) “Most people can control their dog, but not their children”.


Having just spent a very action-filled two days in Germany for my middle son, and being exclusively in the company of fellow Europeans (I’ve lived more of my adult life in Europe than in the U.S. – do I get partial credit here?) I have changed my position a little bit. Europeans do like children – but usually from a distance and some – a very great distance.


Over the last two days I’ve been traveling with my three-year-old to try and find a Pediatric ENT surgeon – I’m beginning to wonder if such a specialty actually exists. On the way to Germany I sat in a train car with three business men on their way to a large city in Poland, and my three-year-old. Toby was his usual self. A hearing problem makes him unconsciously loud and he has a tendency to sing – a lot, and loudly. Despite this, on the way to Poznan and onto Berlin, there was not a single fellow mate in our compartment that even grimaced. I felt a little bad when Toby went into his usual loud rendition of Jingle Bells, but it didn’t merit even a heavy sigh from anyone else. Despite my thinking that it made them uncomfortable, there was no drama that ensued.


Compare that with the return ride home. This time Toby and I were accompanied by two women (I will assume German) in a compartment for six persons. Almost immediately the one woman put on a show about how she was going to have to deal with a “screaming kid” for the trip. She began to throw baggage, she dug through her bag with great fanfare to find her MP3 player and she very loudly plopped herself in the seat… At this point we had been on board for three minutes and had not moved an inch. By the first station, only 7 minutes away, both the nasty woman and another, very professionally dressed woman, had left the compartment. The thing that I found most interesting in hindsight – The women traveling from Germany could not last 10 minutes in the same car with a child, and the child was not making a lot of noise, but just sitting there eating his happy meal. The men in the car from Warsaw to Poznan (presumably polish) easily put up with Toby’s off-key singing for hours…


This got me to thinking about the rest of the trip. The Polish gentleman in the dining car on the way to Berlin cleared a table for us to ensure that Toby did not have to sit on my lap during breakfast. The Polish lady who sold me the ticket said that the three-year-old didn’t need a ticket because he could sit on my lap for the almost 6 hour trip. Very nice and helpful – but Toby is kind of a big kid.


Every German Taxi driver (all men) went out of their way to bring out a child’s seat for Toby whenever we traveled (although this was probably for legal reasons over chivalry), but the German ladies at the restaurant for breakfast seemed to think that a child was going to destroy the restaurant.


And for the most part everyone has been very friendly, but I do get a different sense of traveling with children in Germany than Poland. I need to search the statistics of course, but I’m guessing that the population growth in Poland is higher than Germany – And for the most part, I base this on nothing more than the attitudes that I’ve seen over the past few days. Poles seem to like kids a little more than Germans – maybe that translates to they have a few more than Germans?? Not saying anything negative of course either way, but if you get the chance to travel across Europe with a kid or two – take a minute to see if you feel the attitudes change as you cross the borders. I think it’s very interesting.


Now if you’ll excuse me – I have a three-year-old hanging from the curtains of the train compartment – and I see a mean German woman walking down the isle.


P.S. After completing this – about four hours later we pulled into the train station in Poznan. In our previously private cabin we were joined by a nice young man (thirties) who is dressed very professionally and seems to be very polite. He took up a seat by the window (which has just got to still be wet from the bottle of 7-up that Toby spilled, or the 7-up still dripping from the rack above where I didn’t’ clean off the backpack before I put it up to dry out) and just smiled. Toby, because he is tired, went into a very lovely rendition of the “I don’t want to sit down” song. For those not familiar with the I don’t’ want to sit down song, the lyrics are very simple – Simply sing “I don’t want to sit down” at the top of your lungs for five straight minutes. I thought for sure this guy was going to bolt. He did not – this very nice Polish man just sat in the cabin and ate his KFC, not once threatening to change cabins. His reward? After we pulled out of the station Toby fell asleep – and he’ll probably stay that way until Warsaw. I think that’s Karma.