The Birmingham and Fazeley Canal in Sutton Coldfield, Birmingham, West Midlands.

 

The story of the Birmingham and Fazeley begins in 1770, when the Birmingham Canal Company was seen as having a monopoly. At the time, the coalfields at Walsall did not have canal access, and a public meeting was held at Lichfield on 18 August, to discuss an independent link from Walsall to Fradley Junction on the Trent and Mersey Canal, passing through Lichfield. Opposition from local landowners resulted in the plan being shelved, but a further plan was proposed at a meeting held in Warwick in August 1781, for a canal to run from Wednesbury through Fazeley to Atherstone, which was the end of the Coventry Canal at the time. The plans were changed somewhat in October, but shareholders in the Birmingham Canal saw it as a serious threat.

 

Two bills were put before Parliament in 1782, one for the Birmingham and Fazeley, and a rival one from the Birmingham Canal for a branch from Wednesbury to Walsall. Both sides opposed the other's proposal, and both bills were defeated. The promoters then opened negotiations with other canal companies, to ensure that when the canal was built, it would be part of a larger network. In 1782, they obtained an agreement from the Oxford Canal Company that they would complete the route to the River Thames at Oxford, one from the Coventry Canal that they would extend their canal from Atherstone to Fazeley, and agreed that they would complete the Coventry Canal's route from Fazeley as far as Whittington, as the Coventry Canal company could not finance the whole route. The Trent and Mersey would finish that link by building the remainder of the route to Fradley Junction. A second bill was put before Parliament, and at the same time, the Birmingham Canal presented a scheme for a canal from Riders Green to Broadwaters, near Walsall, with eight branches, and a second canal from Newhall to Fazeley. The Birmingham and Fazeley was authorised by an Act of Parliament obtained in 1784.

 

John Smeaton was the engineer employed by the Birmingham and Fazeley, but work did not start immediately, as he was also responsible for the Riders Green to Broadwaters line, which was completed first. The project did not go smoothly, as there were disputes between James Bough, the superintendent of the canal company, and Pinkertons, who were the civil engineering contractors employed to carry out the work. The issue concerned the cement that the Pinkertons were using. Work on the Fazeley line began in April 1786, with Bough still acting as superintenent, and the Pinkertons responsible for the construction of the section between Minworth and Fazeley. In late 1786, George Pinkerton found out that the levels, which had been surveyed by Bough, were wrong. Samuel Bull, the engineer for the canal company, investigated and reported that Pinkerton was right.

 

The company stopped paying Pinkerton in late 1788, as the costs were exceeding the original estimates, and the contract was taken away from them in February 1789. There was then a financial dispute over money which had been paid to Pinkerton as "extras", but which the company then claimed were overpayments. Some £2,750 was at issue, and the case rumbled on for a decade, until a court case in 1801 gave him only £436 of the claim. Unhappy with the outcome, Pinkerton justified his position, but his remarks about John Houghton, the Company Clerk, were deemed to be libellous, for which he was fined and spent some time in prison.

 

The canal was completed in August 1789. The benefits of the co-operation with the other canal companies were that when all the links were completed in 1790, it immediately generated a great deal of freight traffic. This created problems, as the flights of locks at Aston and Farmer's Bridge became congested, and this became worse when the Warwick Canal built a junction onto the Digbeth Branch. The problem was not solved until 1844, when the Birmingham and Warwick Junction Canal to the south east and the Tame Valley Canal to the north west were opened.

 

Operating 0B16, the 15:24hrs from Craigentinny T&RSMD to Aberdeen waits in Thornton DPL for the 15:30hrs from Edinburgh to Aberdeen to pass. I was booked through Waverley after leaving Craigentinny, but opted for the less congested ‘sub’ route via Gorgie Junction to Haymarket West. This loco was tied up to 73968 which had encountered issues that morning. To add, Thornton DPL was actually a track scratch for me!

LEGAL NOTICE | protected work • All Rights reserved © B. Egger photographer retains ownership and all copyrights in this work.

 

No use of this image is allowed without photographer’s express prior permission and subject to compensation • no work-for-hire

 

► licence | please contact me before to obtain prior a license and to buy the rights to use and publish this photo. A licensing usage agreed upon with Bernard Egger is the only usage granted. more..

 

photographer | ▻ Bernard Egger profile.. • collections.. • sets..

 

location | B 113 Schoberpass Straße, Styria 💚 Austria

📷 | Lost Place Gastarbeiterroute :: rumoto images # 6545

 

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Die Legendäre Gastarbeiterroute - "Wo geht's hier nach Istanbul?"

 

Auf der 2000 km langen "Todesstraße" fuhren seit den Sechzigerjahren Millionen Gastarbeiter in den Heimaturlaub. Für die einen war es ein Höllentrip mit schrecklichen Unfällen und endlosen Staus, für die anderen ein spektakuläres Abenteuer. München, Grenze D/A Walserberg, Salzburg, Ennstal, Schoberpass, Spielfeld A/YU/BG/TR...

 

Ein damals besonders gefährlich zu befahrendes Teilstück war die steirische Schoberpass-Bundesstraße B 113. Die leichte Steigung führte bei den überladenen Fahrzeugen zu sehr langen Überholvorgängen, die sich in schwersten Frontalzusammenstößen auswirkten. Am 9. September 1974 starben bei einem einzigen Unfall durch rücksichtsloses Überholen zehn Personen. Dies war 1974 der 154. Unfall auf der Schoberpass-Bundesstraße – 108 Unfälle davon wurden von ausländischen Lenkern auf der Durchreise verursacht. Das nahe gelegene Unfallkrankenhaus in Kalwang war mit 70 Betten durch die Unfälle auf der Gastarbeiterroute ausgelastet. Ein Teil des Friedhofs in Kalwang war für die ausländischen Unfallopfer von der B 113 bestimmt. Allein 1974 wurden 36 verunglückte türkische Gastarbeiter in Kalwang beerdigt.

► more (en) | en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gastarbeiterroute

 

Gastarbeiterroute is a German language term originating in the 1960/70s. It referred to the former European route 5, which started in Munich and terminated in either Istanbul or Thessaloniki. In summer, as well as for Christmas and Easter, so-called gastarbeiters working in West Germany, Austria and Western Europe would drive their automobiles south on the gastarbeiterroute through Austria and Yugoslavia to their countries of origin. It was notoriously dangerous for drivers and passengers who traveled on congested roads not suited to such heavy traffic.

 

The route ran from Munich on the German Bundesautobahn 8 to Salzburg and further southwards on the Austrian Tauern Autobahn, which then ended at Golling at the northern rim of the Alps. Drivers had to take the highway (Bundesstraße) to Bischofshofen, Radstadt, and through the Enns valley to Liezen, Leoben, Bruck an der Mur, and Graz. The route passed the Austrian–Yugoslav border at Spielfeld and ran further south to Maribor, Varaždin, and Zagreb. From Zagreb, the notorious Brotherhood and Unity Highway (Autoput) led to Belgrad and Niš, where the route forked: one branch led via Skopje and Evzoni to Thessaloniki, the other branch ran southeastwards along the ancient Via Militaris through Bulgaria to Istanbul.

Another soaring tower building in central Warsaw, this time housing some of financial services big guns.

 

There is quite a proliferation of these skyscraping towers in the central area, all interwoven with the extremely busy and congested road network.

Few years ago I heard about some pre-historic era tombs near Dera Ismail khan. When I first saw the picture of these edifices; I was totally spell bound. The only question revolving in my mind was that why this marvelous architecture didn’t gain much attention? I wished to visit this place but was unable to find the exact location of it.

Finally I found the place and its direction from Google earth so I decided to visit this place. On 23rd December, I along with a friend left for Dera Ismail khan from Lahore, It was one of the most tiring travels of my lifetime. We failed to get tickets for DIK because of two connective holidays of 24th and 25th December. As a last resort we had option of Balouch Transport; one of the oldest buses on roads of Pakistan. It was fully packed with passengers and even the middle walking corridor was jammed with temporary seats. Neither could I move my legs nor could stand on feet’s because of congested space. But despite of my deplorable condition; travelling in public transport helps you to interact with peoples of all colors & help you acquire lots of information. Adding to my misery; the busses started race; it was fun for some but a fearful experience for soft hearted person like me.

We reached Dera Ismail khan before dawn on 24th December. It was a shivering cold morning. Our friend Karim lives there was our host. He arranged bikes for our further travel. Unfortunately the whole city was closed due to holiday. So it took us some time to start our journey on Indus highway. Our next destination was Mahra. This small village situated at some 40 kilometers south of DIK on Indus highway. Further 1.2 kilometers from village will lead to a roadside sign pointing to take right turn for “Ancient Tombs and Graveyard”. It was a seven kilometer long village road and was full of dirt. A watercourse was running parallel to the road. There one can find Temporary houses of IDP’s (Internally displaced persons) of FATA.

It’s not safe to travel alone on this road. One should take some local along or travel in group. After road there is clump of trees on left. From a distance one can see domes of prehistoric tombs. Once we moved inside that clump of trees. We got first full sight. It was amazing four tombs and graveyard; exactly as I saw them in pictures. I was standing among them. This sight gave me a feeling of inner satisfaction; a feeling which cannot be expressed in words. It was an expression of gratitude to great architectures of that era. Locals called this place “Andiray” which means ‘graveyard’ in the local dialect of Pashto. I started asking questions from myself that who could be buried inside those tombs? Whose graves are these? These all are still unanswered questions. Only Dr. Ahmed Hassan Dani has done some authentic research on this place. Dr. Dani was a Pakistani intellectual, archaeologist, historian and a linguistic. In one of his books; “Pakistan through ages”; he points out that this site must have acquired an important geographical position during the travel of Ghaznvids Sultans to Sindh and Punjab.

Khyber Pakhtunkhwa was part of larger Islamic empires from 963 to 1187, including the Ghaznavid Empire (975-1187) headed by Sultan Mahmud of Ghazni. Mahmud is said to have made seventeen raids into India. At that time, North India was divided into a number of Hindu states. On the frontier of India, there existed the Hindu Shahi kingdom which extended from the Punjab to Kabul.

Lal Mahara, site is an important Islamic Architecture site dated back to 11th and 12th centuries A D. The site consists on eleven monumental tombs and more than 120 graves. But only four tombs and some graves in dilapidated condition were surviving at the time of protection while the rest seven tombs were completely razed to ground only their traces are visible. The rest four tombs have been preserved and restored only. Presently the site is well preserved and free from encroachment. Tree plantation as a barrier against weather affects as well as to restrict fresh burial (modern and ancient graveyard) has been provided. However keeping in view gradual development activities i.e. housing and agricultural in close vicinity it is necessary to take necessary measures to safe guard the site from any encroachment as well as bad effect of excessive irrigation resulting water logging in future. Features: Architectural features of these tombs are worth to mention. In these corner turrets have provided to tomb 1 and tomb 2 are square in plan. While the other two are without corner turrets and square in shape. Here cut and dressed brick work have applied while blue color tiles have utilized for decoration purposes. Furthermore, all the square chambers have converted into octagons by producing squenches. Deptt of Archaeology conducted conservation work in a large scale and preserved all these four tombs while domes are missing.

  

Remarks: This graveyard site is well preserved site. From southern side iron grill has provided while to all four sides plantation further strengthened its boundaries. Moreover a local chowkidar (Gulu) is performing his duty on the site.

Someone needs to pick up where Dr. Dani has left otherwise his work and legacy will be lost. We are yet to discover much more than we have already, but archeology is not attractive as being Doctor or Engineer

A JASDF Kawasaki C-2 from the 403rd Tactical Airlift Squadron at Miho AB, Japan, overflies Iruma-shi on approach to Iruma AB Runway 35.

Busy day in Bangkok Thailand - rows of vehicles are captured in a congested traffic setting, with a mix of taxis featuring prominently in the frame. Motorcycles weave through the stationary cars on a sunlit city street bordered by trees and urban infrastructure.

this photo has a lot to do with how i've been feeling lately. i just kind of want to escape and leave all of my troubles behind.. i'm overly stressed but thankfully school is over next week.

 

it took me over an hour to get to school today.. it normally takes about 10. the 60 was backed up and so i took a side street which was just as bad. but i found out the reason why it was so congested.. a man on the freeway was pulled over, changing a tire and someone hit him and killed him.. that happens so much here. how can you not see someone on the side of the road changing a tire? do people become blind as soon as they get behind the wheel?

 

aside from my troubles, today is my sister's birthday. she is 17. how cute. happy birthday if you see this.

 

painting texture: here.

 

*it's so graaiiny. ); din look like this before i uploaded it..

**also, super aware of how crappy the quality is of this shot.. but i haven't the time/energy to fix it up. sobsobsob. haha.

  

THANK YOU SO MUCH, ERINBOLOGNA FOR THE TESTIMONIAL! (:

Trawbreaga Bay, Malin Head, Inishowen, County Donegal, Ireland

 

Five Fingers Strand takes its unusual name from the five long black sea-stacks that can be seen on the north end of this rocky shore. The surrounding sand dunes are some of the highest in all of Europe. These dunes were formed around 5000 years ago and now have their own protected unique ecosystem. They are nowadays threatened by rising sea levels and are eroding away very fast back into the sea…

 

This view from Knockmany Bends overlooks Five Fingers Strand and the Dunes of Lagg to the left, the Isle of Doagh in the background and if you look further into this scene, you can see Mamore & Urris. To the right can be seen Glashedy Island floating lonesome with its tiny desert island beach

 

Each year many Irish folk travel abroad to highly congested tourist traps in search of tropical waters and white sandy beaches. If they only realised what is already here in Ireland along our shores, then they may think twice before spending a small fortune to hop onto a crowded plane. Here we can easily visit areas like this for free, whilst having the entire beach to ourselves.

 

Ok I admit we don’t exactly have tropical heat, and most of the time we get 4 seasons in one day! 😂 but it’s our variable weather which carves and shapes our stunning landscape and shorelines. Whilst wearing our shorts or raincoats we must still be thankful for what we already have around us 🙏

 

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AMARGOSA VALLEY NV: I love signs warning against flooding in the middle of the desert.

 

Scientists have found traces of human settlements dating back 10,000 years. By 2007, the population had exploded to a 'congested' 1556.

7304

What a difference fifteen years makes. This evening dress was one of my first attempts at being a "glamour girl" back in 2003.

It did not fit well then, and needless to say it never fit any better...I don't think I could even zip it up.

 

Fast forward to 2018 and I find myself with a somewhat different body after changes I had to make from congestive heart failure in January. The dress is still a little small, but hey I can at least zip it up! I never figured this dress would see the light of day again.

 

I had a long way to go back then, a lot to learn, but the journey has been rewarding. I'd like to think I present a little more polished and sophisticated woman these days, LOL.

Rather congested, noisy, and what appears to be no organization. Fernhill Wetlands Forest Grove, Oregon.

Season of Photogrpahic Eye - picture 4

Week 46, Saturday

 

I didn't pick up any camera for a long time after my experiments with a cheap analog camera and Velvia 50. After many years doing something else, I did get excited with some of my friends DSLR. We did some photography like HDR panoramas and I recognized, again, my potential inspiration for photography but even if it was fun it didn't really trigger my own pursue for photography. It wasn't lucid to me then, but now I see very clear: I didn't have any real reason to shoot nor did I have a 'real purpose' for my photography. Of course I could have bought the camera and go shoot sun sets for example. But for what reason?

 

Part of my disinterest regarding photography related to technical obstacles as well. I had been more or less disappointed with all the earlier cameras I had been using whether they were analog or digital. My (relatively little) experience with them has showed me how difficult it was to turn ideas and images in my mind into real photographs that actually looked like something. Photography with an analog camera felt like a wheel of fortune and what came out of it was very hard to control. And the early digital wasn't much better, because it seemed to me that there were never enough light and most of my images turned into noisy and congested digital files that had nothing to do with the original image I had in my mind (or eyes for that matter). Of course I knew that others could create great pictures with big DSLRs, flashes, external lights and what else. I was never interested to go into that direction. I just wanted to capture things how I saw them in the first place (yes, I know it was a pretty amateur presumption at the time).

 

Finally all that changed when our daughter Aura was born two and half years ago. Suddenly I felt something extraordinary was happening in my life and I realized that I need to capture it before it passes away. I took the first images, again, with a loaned camera (Panasonic LX-5, if I remember correctly) but soon realized that I finally need to buy my own camera. I didn't have much money and with a help of a friend I settled for Sony Nex-5N which I didn't know about. When I got the Sony Nex-5N I was actually surprised to see it was so different from all the other digital cameras I had tested before. It was tiny and had pretty modest setup options, but when it came to image quality it delivered. I was so excited and surprised to have a DSLR quality (and better) with such a small package. Together with Sony 50/1.8 the Sony Nex-5N felt very liberating because I could suddenly shoot in any circumstances and get usable pictures. And because it was so small, I could carry it everywhere with an ease. Now that finally I had a reason to shoot and I had a great camera to go with it, my inspiration and creativity boosted up high and I shot over 26 000 images in first year. Finally the photo bug had found me.

 

Year of the Alpha – 52 Weeks of Sony Alpha Photography: www.yearofthealpha.com

Photographs taken by me at Point Pleasant Beach. Shot with the Sony 50mm F/1.2 GM At F/11 Shutter speed 6 seconds ISO 100.

 

It was quite a nice 4th of July full of crowds of people that wanted to spend their weekend at the beach to see the big show. It felt very pre-covid as the crowds were overwhelmingly congested on the Boardwalk. I shot simultaneously with two cameras. The first camera was with a crop sensor. The A6300 with a wide angle lens the Sigma 19mm. The second camera I shot with was my A7Riii with my Sony 50mm F/1.2 GM. The show was suppose to start at 9:00 PM and eventually started at 9:30 PM. Unfortunately, due to the delay it rained a little bit, and some of my photos will reflect that. However, I found the photos that were affected by the droplets of rain falling on the front lens elements to be characterful. That's is why I have decided to share them rather than delete them.

 

All rights reserved ©

You can license this image on Getty Images.

 

The intersection of the Yan'an Elevated Road (延安高架路) and the North-South Elevated Road is one of the most important traffic arteries in all of Shanghai. Traffic going to the Bund and Pudong gets bundled here. It is one of the most complex road structures I have ever seen, dwarfing even the 101 and 110 freeway exchange in Los Angeles.

Photographs taken by me at Point Pleasant Beach. Shot with the Sigma 19mm F/2.8 DG DN Art. At F/11 Shutter speed 4 seconds ISO 100.

 

It was quite a nice 4th of July full of crowds of people that wanted to spend their weekend at the beach to see the big show. It felt very pre-covid as the crowds were overwhelmingly congested on the Boardwalk. I shot simultaneously with two cameras. The first camera was with a crop sensor. The A6300 with a wide angle lens the Sigma 19mm. Which this series showcases.. The second camera I shot with was my A7Riii with my Sony 50mm F/1.2 GM. The show was suppose to start at 9:00 PM and eventually started at 9:30 PM. Unfortunately, due to the delay it rained a little bit, and some of my photos will reflect that. However, I found the photos that were affected by the droplets of rain falling on the front lens elements to be characterful. That's is why I have decided to share them rather than delete them.

 

All rights reserved ©

Photographs taken by me at Point Pleasant Beach. Shot with the Sigma 19mm F/2.8 DG DN Art. At F/11 Shutter speed 4 seconds ISO 100.

 

It was quite a nice 4th of July full of crowds of people that wanted to spend their weekend at the beach to see the big show. It felt very pre-covid as the crowds were overwhelmingly congested on the Boardwalk. I shot simultaneously with two cameras. The first camera was with a crop sensor. The A6300 with a wide angle lens the Sigma 19mm. Which this series showcases.. The second camera I shot with was my A7Riii with my Sony 50mm F/1.2 GM. The show was suppose to start at 9:00 PM and eventually started at 9:30 PM. Unfortunately, due to the delay it rained a little bit, and some of my photos will reflect that. However, I found the photos that were affected by the droplets of rain falling on the front lens elements to be characterful. That's is why I have decided to share them rather than delete them.

 

All rights reserved ©

Photographs taken by me at Point Pleasant Beach. Shot with the Sony 50mm F/1.2 GM At F/11 Shutter speed 6 seconds ISO 100.

 

It was quite a nice 4th of July full of crowds of people that wanted to spend their weekend at the beach to see the big show. It felt very pre-covid as the crowds were overwhelmingly congested on the Boardwalk. I shot simultaneously with two cameras. The first camera was with a crop sensor. The A6300 with a wide angle lens the Sigma 19mm. The second camera I shot with was my A7Riii with my Sony 50mm F/1.2 GM. The show was suppose to start at 9:00 PM and eventually started at 9:30 PM. Unfortunately, due to the delay it rained a little bit, and some of my photos will reflect that. However, I found the photos that were affected by the droplets of rain falling on the front lens elements to be characterful. That's is why I have decided to share them rather than delete them.

 

All rights reserved ©

Jess, my dog, is 16 this year and she's recently been diagnosed with congestive heart failure. It's hard to watch her growing old and tired, and her meds make her a little 'spaced out', but she's still happy to be here with us and her zest for life has hardly diminished. I took this just to test my new lens but I think it shows her age as well as her sparkle :)

Morocco

Rickshaw Wallah, Delhi, India

 

There are nearly one million cycle rickshaws in the Delhi metro area, and almost all of them are operated by migrant workers. They swiftly negotiate the most crowded, and most congested narrow lanes of Old Delhi, where the bazaars are a labyrinth of narrow lanes, with auto rickshaws, motorcycles, scooters, cars, and trucks spewing out their exhaust mercilessly. In fact, Delhi, according to WHO has the worst air quality of any major city in the world. Particulate Matter, which is responsible for chronic respiratory diseases causing permanent damage to lungs, was found to be the highest in Delhi.

 

”He’s going to die right here in the street,” Dominique Lapierre wrote, some thirty years ago while narrating a story of another rickshaw wallah in Calcutta on his book, “City of Joy.” He continued, writing about their plight during the winter months, “Condemned to switching from the sweatbaths of a run to the cold of prolonged waiting, their undernourished bodies had little resistance. Many of them died.” This was written before all of the pollution that Indian cities generate now.

 

Today, the 2015 United Nations Climate Change Conference in Paris has brought the world leaders to the negotiating table. Mr. Narendra Modi, the PM of India is there as well. I am hopeful that these sensible leaders will realize that the overall welfare of our civilizations depends on taking care of all things human, including the environment, where these rickshaw wallahs have to work to make their ends meet.

 

#4change, #climatechange, #environment, #cop21

 

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travelling travelling travelling ... the rain was making a blurry web, locking us in the congested space... we've gotta run away, someday.

 

"... 被雨困住的城市... 有歌...混著雨聲降落..." ~ 蘇打綠

The Royal Palace of Caserta in Italy is a former royal residence that was built in the 18th century. It is the largest royal residence in the world.

Constructed for the Bourbon kings of Naples, the Palace covers an area of about 235,000 m. The architect of this magnificent palace was Luigi Vanvitelli.

The whole architectural complex at Caserta was primarily designed to give the kingdom a new capital.

The King wanted a new royal court and administrative center for the kingdom, in a location protected from sea attack, and distant from the revolt-prone and congested city of Naples.

Mexico City has now had all its 90 Enviro 500s delivered, they are in use on metrobus line 7 linking a northern suburb with an area to the South West. Truly inner city animals with battle scars to match, on a daily torture through the most congested city on earth, which means they wont have easy lives like some of their American commuter sisters in the States. They are also unusual in having their Cummins engines offset to the lhd nearside but still inline. These were built in Guildford, bodied in Falkirk and shipped from Southampton. This one is operated by Operadora Linea 7 seen at Estela de Luz but others are with Sky bus Reforma. None of them carry registration plates being Government assets but carry large fleetnumbers at the front & rear. Mythical creatures if ever there were any !

Fore St , St Ives , Cornwall , where shortly this shot will not be possible once the holiday season gets under way and the street becomes congested with people using it as way of getting backwards and forwards to their accommodation or visiting the shops and eating places that line this street , during the day and well into the night.

 

19 4 16

Headed for the service stop at Amsterdam, "The Empress", CP No. 2816, charges past MP 67 in Amoret on the CPKC Pittsburg Sub while deadheading into Kansas City, MO from Heavener, OK as CPKC train 41B-25. The 338 mile run from Heavener to KC is a long haul in and of itself, but today's trip was constantly further delayed due to congested traffic on the former Haywire. Here, they're following two north and after being held up around Eve waiting on the MMX I180 to come south.

 

This is the northbound portion of the "Final Spike Anniversary Steam Tour", and "The Empress" is returning back to Calgary from Mexico City, covering thousands of miles in this historic steam event. A heritage SD70ACU was picked up along the way, accompanying the matching set of FP9's.

 

"The Empress", CP No. 2816, is an H1b Class 4-6-4 Hudson built in December of 1930 by Montreal Locomotive Works. It was in service for thirty years before being retired in 1960 and becoming a part of the Steamtown collection. It remained there until CP acquired it again in 1998 for use in excursions. In 2001, it was restored to service and operated in both Canada and the United States for nine years.

 

In 2021, news broke out that CP and KCS had agreed to merge, with the actual merger occurring two years late in 2023. CP CEO Keith Creel announced the "The Empress" would embark on a tour of the new transnational system from Calgary to Mexico City, and in 2023, the engine itself was rebuilt in preparation for quite the ambitious tour. 6/25/24.

Photographs taken by me at Point Pleasant Beach. Shot with the Sigma 19mm F/2.8 DG DN Art. At F/11 Shutter speed 4 seconds ISO 100.

 

It was quite a nice 4th of July full of crowds of people that wanted to spend their weekend at the beach to see the big show. It felt very pre-covid as the crowds were overwhelmingly congested on the Boardwalk. I shot simultaneously with two cameras. The first camera was with a crop sensor. The A6300 with a wide angle lens the Sigma 19mm. Which this series showcases.. The second camera I shot with was my A7Riii with my Sony 50mm F/1.2 GM. The show was suppose to start at 9:00 PM and eventually started at 9:30 PM. Unfortunately, due to the delay it rained a little bit, and some of my photos will reflect that. However, I found the photos that were affected by the droplets of rain falling on the front lens elements to be characterful. That's is why I have decided to share them rather than delete them.

 

All rights reserved ©

CSX SD70MAC 4707 leads CSX C40-8W 7911 on a loaded K596-27 slab train for AK Steel in Detroit. This loaded slab train originated at the AK Steel Rouge plant right next to the CSX Detroit Rougemere Yard and is heading for Middletown Yard, OH. This business was taken from the NS and is new to CSX as of 2016. These old PM signals are 1 of 7 sets of EAS and WAS control point bridges on the CSX Detroit Sub. K596-27 is coming around the corner into Plymouth under the WAS Eckles Road which is on the east side of Plymouth East Yard. The train is slowing down to enter the congested area around Plymouth (human traffic, etc) and head south on the CSX Saginaw Sub towards Toledo.

Sommità di un cumulo congesto in trasformazione a cumulonimbus incus.

23/2/2014

...Milwaukee’s Sherman Park neighbourhood. It sits conspicuously on the intersection of a congested commercial corner; a good and sensible place for a restaurant to be. Walk-in traffic must be numerous as it is the only restaurant in a walkable neighborhood. But despite this, the building does manage to successfully stand out and then surprise. Marlow’s tarantula on a slice of angel-food cake comes to mind; the business catches the eye because of the extravagant colours found on its exterior; a tangerine-yellow awning emerging from a contrasting purple affair complete with faux-billows that informs the potential customer what delights from the perfumed East (and I don’t mean Hoboken) may be found within. This frontage is not only informative, but it also provides the passerby with a stunning representation of mid-century American culinary-signage kitsch. Who could not patronize such a place?

 

Despite these aesthetic advantages, I many times over the years drove by the establishment and kept on going. This is embarrassing to confess: in all that long stretch of time, never once did I stop in to order “take away”. The lettering preserved from a different time inscribed on the extravagant amber of the plastic awning made for a magnificent incongruity. Yet these ornamentations were not enough to get me to pull over and give the place a try. Why is this? A suburban shyness, perhaps, but more accurately (the truth reluctantly comes out) it was culinary bigotry that kept me away. A mis-guided affection for trendier places closer to home urged me to drive on by. Wasn't this place, so my misguided thinking went, an artifact from a past epoch; when I love Lucy was in prime time and Ed Sullivan was the cultural arbitrator of our nation’s musical taste? Aren’t we better than that now? Haven’t we moved on to the authentic; to what is real and true? Are we not modern people? Such were the questions, born out of prejudice and ignorance, that kept me away from the Pacific Orient Express.

 

Let Ed, Lucy, and fried rice into history melt (so ran my ill-composed interior soliloquy) my forage and gathering will never stray far from Oakland Avenue in Shorewood. This is my space.

 

What an idiot.

 

At first blush then, and even the second one, everything about this restaurant, like that crime scene in a story by Chesterton, seemed wrong. The Pacific Ocean couldn’t be further away, at least in spirit and ambiance, from this dry and fatigued intersection. The stately pleasure domes and Alph the sacred river of Xanadu were as distant from it as a voluptuous opiate dream is from an insurance adjuster in Oshkosh.

 

Two days ago, as I was driving down 51st, the recent recommendation of a friend came to mind. He is a “regular” at the counter of this restaurant; his artistic judgments never fail to be both perceptive and wise. His verdict was that the “Singapore Noodles” at the Express are tasty beyond the ability of mere words to describe. It was time to see if he was right. Recalling his effusive praise, and realizing my proximity to those very noodles, I made the stop that I should have made in 1975. Casting aside the arrogant trepidation that is so much weaved into a warped personality, I went in there to find an unexpected scene. There were no chairs. In front of the counter was an object routinely not seen in the lobby of a restaurant: a traffic cone with a top grotesquely disfigured perhaps by the flame of a welding iron. Looking up from this remarkable object I realized that I would need to place my order in tones molto fortissimo. This is because the order-taker and customer are separated by an impressively thick pane of glass. My conjecture is that the partition is “bullet proof.” This theory may well have been a dramatic fantasy bred from the workings of an over-sensitive, if not fevered, suburban imagination. Next time I go to the Pacific Orient, I will ask about the glass.

 

And, in case you are doubtful, I will go back. Posthaste.

 

I soon learned that the litany of the restaurant’s cosmetic wrongs turned into irrelevancies and dust when the fried rice and “Singapore Noodles” were brought home and put on the table. Everything about these dishes was right. The noodles were of a perfect gentle doneness. Most fell away from each other into myriad strands infused with a faint and sweet adumbration of anise flavour; sometimes the pasta would gather itself together into miniature caramelised globes; delightful ornaments surrounded by their slender and single neighbours in a curried sea. Abundant with fresh vegetables as well, the dish was memorable for the disparities it offered and the divisions of flavours it contained. It was G. F. Handel’s Harmonious Blacksmith Variations turned vigorously in a wok and then dumped, with a spirit of splendid chaos, into a ceramic bowl.

 

As for the rice, it was superb. But it was more than that. For many years I have been searching for a reputable version of the fried rice I grew up with in the mid 60’s at the long-gone New China Cafe on Colfax Avenue and Clarkson Street in Denver. The splendid and local YICK INN, previously mentioned enthusiastically on this page offers such an example: jonathanbrodie.substack.com/p/yicks-inn. Now found here on Burleigh Street, praise be to Saint Cecilia (patron saint not only of music, but also, I believe, of happy tummies) was another source of the rare recipe. It took only the first forkful of this dish to know that I had returned to the green glades of my childhood; to "The New China" and a convivial visit with its amiable proprietor, Mr. Herbert Wong For me, it is only in the clearings of those long and vague grasses that that restaurant can be found; along with the velveteen and tasseled menus that seemed, to my ten-year-old eyes, to be ancient documents lining the bottom of Marco Polo’s luggage. The physical manifestation of that structure was torn down in the 70’s and replaced by a liquor store. Mr. Wong is gone as well; lovingly carried off by a parliament of those same soft, red funerary menus to where Marco Polo is. Yet somehow, there the shrine is again; astonishingly reconstructed not on a fancy avenue, not on Colfax and Clarkson in Denver, but to a place close to where I am now.

 

51st and Burleigh in Sherman Park.

  

At Hovingham Spa station in the Vale Of Gilling........Summer Saturdays around this time was a very busy period for this single line cross country route, with several trains from Scotland and the North East bringing and returning holiday makers to and from the Yorkshire Coast resorts.

From Pilmoor on the ECML, to Driffield, on the York to Scarborough line, was about 35 miles, much shorter and less congested than the traditional route through York to the south, the only problems likely to be encountered was the run from Malton to the sumit at Wharram, where trains sometimes had to stop to take water, and found the re-start difficult.

Here Tweedmouth V2 60926 runs west through Hovingham with a Scarborough - Glasgow holiday return working......Station Master holding out single line token.

Photo. P. B. Booth.

King's Cross was built in 1851–1852 as the London hub of the Great Northern Railway and terminus of the East Coast main line.

 

In 2005, a £500 million restoration plan was announced by Network Rail to include a thorough restoration and reglazing of the arched roof of the original station and the removal of the cramped and congested 1972 extension, replaced by a new semi-circular departures concourse, to the west of the station behind the Great Northern Hotel. The architect claims that the diagrid shell structure roof is the longest single-span station structure in Europe. The semi-circular building has a radius of 54 metres and over 2,000 triangular roof panels, half of which are glass. Cited in Wikipedia.

 

© 2015 Nigel Matthews (Gook the Goblin) - All rights reserved.

Do not use, download, print or reproduce any of my images without my permission!

  

Photographs taken by me at Point Pleasant Beach. Shot with the Sigma 19mm F/2.8 DG DN Art. At F/11 Shutter speed 4 seconds ISO 100.

 

It was quite a nice 4th of July full of crowds of people that wanted to spend their weekend at the beach to see the big show. It felt very pre-covid as the crowds were overwhelmingly congested on the Boardwalk. I shot simultaneously with two cameras. The first camera was with a crop sensor. The A6300 with a wide angle lens the Sigma 19mm. Which this series showcases.. The second camera I shot with was my A7Riii with my Sony 50mm F/1.2 GM. The show was suppose to start at 9:00 PM and eventually started at 9:30 PM. Unfortunately, due to the delay it rained a little bit, and some of my photos will reflect that. However, I found the photos that were affected by the droplets of rain falling on the front lens elements to be characterful. That's is why I have decided to share them rather than delete them.

 

All rights reserved ©

Today's edition of "Armchair Traveling During the Coronavirus Lockdown" takes me back to our trip to Egypt almost a year ago. We spent a couple of nights in a nice hotel in Alexandria overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. This is the view from our window. I wanted to walk on the beach, but the prospect of getting across that 8 lane road with masses of honking lane-changing cars was too daunting. Apparently, others in our tour group found that if you walked down 1/2 mile or so there was a pedestrian underpass, but I probably wouldn't have felt safe doing so. There were a lot of sketchy looking guys loitering around outside our hotel...

View On Black

 

Highest: #419 on 2009-12-11

 

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Believe it or not, this is one of the busiest streets during day time.

The Flickr Lounge-Begins With The Letter R

Happy Truck Thursday! (maybe not!)

 

The traffic was really backed up during our trip to Long Is. I'm guessing the driver of this big rig may have misjudged how much room it had to make a turn and it ended up on the railing. This was somewhere near NY City, the worst place to back-up already congested traffic!

 

SD40M-2 610 leads POWA upgrade past fellow SD40M-2 612 at Pike, with a horribly out of tune horn. Four GP40s of various heritages trail the 610, pulling a fiftyish car train. Trailing closely behind POWA is an AYWA sent up to bypass a congested Rigby yard.

I had a premonition. Whenever I thought about our upcoming riverboat cruise on the Blue Danube two images came to mind: Bratislava and my father-in-law John suffering a heart attack while we were there.

  

12 April, Friday 2013

We set sail from Vienna at midnight and arrive in Bratislava at six in the morning.

  

7:00 a.m.

I am the first to leave our cabin on the ship and when I see that John's door is open and his clothes are on the floor by the bathroom I am alarmed and alert Chris who is not far behind me. But, I carry on to the lounge to finish writing post cards - there are only two days left on the cruise - we are due to return from Budapest, Hungary after breakfast on Sunday morning. The end of an eight day trip.

  

When I am done I climb downstairs to the dining lounge to look for Chris and John. After I walk around the entire room I joke to the last couple seated by the door that it is not like my husband and father-in-law to skip a meal.

  

The first thing I see is John's empty bed and when I realize that he has lost control of his bodily functions I know this is serious. John, who is wearing white boxer shorts and a white tee-shirt, is sitting in a chair by the bed and Chris is standing by. Chris tells me that his father has had a really bad night and that he needs to go to the hospital. The staff has been alerted and the paramedics are on their way.

  

John is sweating profusely and struggling to breathe,. He remembers me opening the window. I move to his side and ask him if this is all right. “Yes,” he says, “I’m dying.” Doctor’s have a name for this conviction: Angor animi, Latin for ‘anguish of the soul’. According to Dr. Gavin Francis, “as a sensation it carries great predictive power”. In the emergency room a patient’s belief that they are about to die is taken seriously.

  

I place my right hand on the nape of his neck and my left hand on his forehead while I assess the situation. John is drenched in sweat. I race to the bathroom sink and wet two wash cloths and place one behind his neck and he takes the other to wipe his face and head. Then he returns to bed, which is one step away, but he does not slide down far enough and his head is in an awkward position.

  

Most people know not to lay someone with breathing problems flat and John is struggling. I show Chris, who is about to pull his father forward, how to reposition John by reaching under his armpit and grasping his back. This works and together we are able to move his upper body forward. I place a pillow so that John is able to sit up.

  

Again I place my right hand on the nape of his neck and my left hand on his forehead. “I'm dying," he repeats "No you're not," I say this as though it is a ridiculous thing to do. I'm thinking, we’re on a cruise! John says that he can’t breathe and that he has water on the lungs. We can hear what doctors call the death rattle, when saliva accumulates in the throat.

  

I am loathe to tell my father-in-law what to do and when he mentions that he quit taking his diuretic as prescribed I do not say a word. But, now I remind him, “Once you receive your medication you will feel all right again”. I say this reassuringly.

  

I encourage Chris to make John’s bag of prescription drugs available - the doctors will want to know the names and the dosages. I grab fresh towels from the cart in the hall and cover John and the bed.

  

The Prestige is due to set sail at noon and I know it is going to leave without us so I suggest we start packing. First I send Chris across the hall to our room. I watch through the open door as our things are hastily thrown together. I call him back and suggest he pack for John - that way he can stay by his father’s side.

  

We are all set to go when the paramedics arrive with Peter, the twenty-five year old Slovakian waiter from the dining room who serves as our translator. As the paramedics work their magic I move partially onto the bed, close to John’s right ear, and explain what is happening. “There are three paramedics here and a doctor,” I tell him. This turned out not to be completely true - there was no doctor. John opens his eyes for a moment and smiles. "Good" he says. "I like a lot of attention." This is true.

  

Chris later told me that when he first saw his father John was seated on the toilet. He told Chris that he needed a minute - he had a bad night - and he said that he needed to go to Stanford Hospital right away.

  

Chris told a cleaning staff member who was in the hallway that his father needed a medical doctor. Wesley, the activities coordinator, came and told Chris that there was not a doctor available who could come to the ship, he had two choices. John could have an appointment with the doctor at 11 a.m. or he could go to the emergency room. Chris asked Wesley to call for an ambulance - John needed to go to the emergency room.

  

By this time John had made his way to the chair where Chris had placed a towel. He told Chris that he thought he had died last night. He woke up sweating, he could not urinate, he was in pain and he had difficulty walking and breathing. He said he was very uncomfortable and he just wanted to die.

  

John leaves the ship in a sling chair, as he is being wheeled through the lobby Artur, (this is not a typo) the Portuguese manager, tells me not to worry about the cost - Viking will take care of it. “Keep on thinking positive,” he says, “and everything it will be okay.”

  

7:54 a.m.

Two ambulances - sirens wailing - John and Peter in one, and Chris and I in another arrive at the University Hospital Old Town (Univerzitná Nemonica Staré Mesto). We are in the medieval center of Bratislava.

  

8:18 a.m.

After a brief stay in the emergency room John is wheeled to the coronary care unit (Interná Klinika Koronárna Jednotka). As he is about to enter the elevator he turns to Chris and says, "Remember what I said earlier about wanting to die, well I changed my mind."

  

10:17 a.m.

Dr. Papinčák, who is studiously calm and attentive, does not take his eyes off me as he speaks, his gaze is piercing. He informs me that John may be able to fly home on Monday with a medical assistant. He is concerned about the high altitude. John suffers from congestive heart failure (CHF).

  

“One of the most important problems for travelers with congestive heart failure is altitude... All patients should be able to walk 100 yards and climb 12 steps if they are to attempt a long plane flight. Heart failure patients may also be particularly susceptible to the symptoms of altitude sickness, which may include shortness of breath and profound fatigue. In general, patients with congestive heart failure should avoid traveling to locations at high altitudes.” - Internet Scientific Publications. The Internet Journal of Health ISSN: 1528-8315 Travel Concerns For Congestive Heart Failure (CHF) Patients.

  

10:30 a.m.

Chris uses the hospital’s computer to email his sisters. Typists beware, the z and the y are reversed and the apostrophe and the @ symbol are no where to be found.

  

“Dad maz have had a heart attack last night. He is okaz now, in the hospital... if it will help with medical evacuation.... I would like to get him to Stanford... I think he had a heart attack in his sleep earlz this morning. It is fridaz at ten thirtz here and I§m using the computer at the hospital. I will also trz to make phone calls and e=mail, but communications are difficult right now.” - Chris’ email

  

11:00 a.m.

While Chris is typing Dr. Papinčák comes out to the hall to tell me that John is asleep. As we leave the hospital with our bags a grounds worker Feró, points us in the direction of the Hotel Saffron. This four star hotel is located just around the corner from the hospital and the Staré Město (Old Town) is a fifteen minute walk in the other direction. There are shops, markets, ATM’s, restaurants and cafe’s in between. Everything is within walking distance.

  

At this point we feel tremendous gratitude. First of all, we are grateful that we are docked when the heart attack happens, secondly that the paramedics respond quickly, and thirdly that Chris has family to help with the logistics. And, we feel grateful to be in a position where we are able to stay in Bratislava for as long as it takes for John to recover and deemed fit to fly. We see nothing but the positives and we are excited. Exploring medieval Bratislava will serve as a good distraction and our eight day trip has turned into an indefinite adventure - my favorite kind.

  

2:45 p.m.

I skip lunch but as Chris orders the Pakistani behind the counter seriously wonders, “What are you doing in Bratislava?”

  

3:30 p.m.

Back at the hospital I monitor the activity in the hallway while I give Chris and John time alone. If there are any last words that need to be spoken now is the time.

  

4:15 p.m.

Despite the double expressos and the warm overcast spring afternoon (good for photography) once we settle into our room we are unable to leave the hotel. For the first time ever we decide to settle in early.

  

While Chris figures out how to call his sister using FaceTime I watch racy and fast paced MTV videos on the television. When the rain starts to fall softly I soak in a hot bath. Our large window opens wide - we do not realize that we are facing southwest until the moon sets. It does not get dark until 9:30 p.m.

  

13 April, Saturday

The big questions are; how much damage was caused to John’s already congested heart, what are John’s chances of recovering from pneumonia, which we just learn he has, and when is he going to be well enough to travel home? There are no immediate answers forthcoming as the doctors need information on John’s previous condition.

  

While Chris sits with his father I visit an ancient who is laying in the bed closest to the door. I am pleased to learn that she speaks German, all the older people do she tells me - that was until the communists came to rule in 1945 and stayed until 1989 - now that generation speaks Russian as a second language. This woman, who has two sons, tells me that she has an uncle and relatives who live in “cosmopolitan” Canada, Toronto.

  

14 April, Sunday

We learn that ejection fraction measures how much volume the heart pumps with each beat, 55% to 6o% is considered normal and 20% is too low. John’s ejection fraction in his left ventricle, is 20-25% , it was 35%. C-reactive protein (CRP) is a blood protein that indicates inflammation of the arteries. Levels rise in response to inflammation. You are at high risk for heart disease if your CRP level is higher than 3.0 mg/L. John’s levels reach 140mg/L. And, his leucocyte levels, which measures the number of white blood cells and indicates infection, are high.

  

I have a private talk with Dr. Kašperová. I would like to know what are John’s chances of survival. She tells me that culture is growing in lab - soon they will know specific antibiotic to give him. The doctor thinks a two week stay is optimistic. What is most essential at this point besides hydration is for John to be optimistic. She believes his survival depends on this.

  

Today John is NOT feeling optimistic, he wants out by weeks end. He does not know that he is looking at a two week minimum stay and we are not going to tell him. And, he is concerned that he has no appetite. This does not bode well for John. “Your body is trying to heal,” I tell him. This is what I told my friend Carol when she expressed the same concern a week before she died of congestive heart failure on 23 May 2012. But, we just brought him hot soup and he is eating after two days of no food. It is not until later that we learn restaurant soup is verboten - too much salt.

  

Today is my mother’s 79th birthday. It does not occur to me until now that I can send her emails using Chris’ iPhone. I write: Father-in-law John had a heart attack on Friday and he is in the hospital in Bratislava. We will stay in Slovakia until John is well enough to travel. In hindsight, emailing my mother would have been a good opportunity to write and keep track of our adventures. Viking had kept us busy starting early every morning. It was a great trip while it lasted, in fact, everything was much better than we expected and we only missed the last two days.

  

Except for the ubiquitous and jumbo sized chocolate chip cookies (yes, there is such a thing) I like the small portions of food Viking serves, although John informs me that not everyone is of the same opinion. And, not being a big meat eater, I look forward to the hot rueben sandwich which is on the menu for tomorrow’s lunch. “You know I’m not supposed to eat that,” John tells me, “Too much salt, but I’m going to, I eat whatever I want.” This is not the first time John brags about his see-food diet. The last time it happened he ended up in the hospital with a heart attack. I predicted that would happen. The body keeps count.

  

The first few days we stay with John only briefly as he is tired and sleeps most of the time. We start the routine of dropping off a decaf latte in the morning which progresses to one in the afternoon, and everyday we bring him food and the International Herald Tribune.

  

Near the end, as a treat, we buy him a New Yorker 12.50 € ($17.00) which John has subscribed to for almost sixty years, and a Time magazine which features the 100 most influential people in the world. When we are not hunting for food and gathering reading material for John we explore the medieval city center of Bratislava and I start to learn the Slovakian language.

  

The Slovakian word for thank you is Ďakujem. I have one of the nurses on my voice recorder repeating this word over and over again. I admit that it took me one long week to learn how to say ďakujem without thinking - that is how difficult this word is to pronounce and why the locals are so appreciative when we make the effort. The Slovakians and the Slovenians use ‘Prosím' for please and there are some other similarities, but the Slovakian language uses diacritics that I have never seen before. My curiosity is piqued.

  

15 April, Monday

It is a huge relief to see that John is feeling much better this morning after he briefly lost his optimism. For the first time yesterday we saw the possibility of darkness settling in. But, I notice that the right side of his body is bloated.

  

“We visited Dad this morning and he is doing noticeably better than yesterday. He is more alert and energetic, and his appetite is better. He has bronchial pneumonia in the right lung which is being treated with two antibiotics. He appreciates everyone's concerns and good wishes. Once the pneumonia clears up and he is stronger we can go home. Although he wants to go home he realizes that he is too weak to travel.” - Chris’ email

  

“Dr. Papinčák says it’s too soon for Dad to walk, that he needs to start by spending more time sitting up, physical therapy will start tomorrow. When we visit in the morning we will have him sit up with his legs over the side of the bed and his feet on the floor. He said that Dad is improving, responding to the antibiotics as measured by a lower CRP number. He also said that his heart was not damaged that much more by this heart attack as measured by the EF number. Finally he said that Dad may be ready to travel by Friday or Saturday. We brought him OJ, salad, decaf latte, a blueberry muffin and the Herald Tribune, everything he wanted. Things are going as well and as fast as they can go for now. We are optimistic. - Chris’ email

  

16 April, Tuesday

We wake up to the news that terrorists attacked the Boston Marathon. We feel safe in Bratislava.

  

John is definitely making progress. He is one tough Greek and I tell him so, but he is not convinced. “Wait until we’re in the air,” he says not realizing the potential danger that lies ahead. I notice that he is not coughing. The double dose of two different antibiotics must be working and the right side of his body is not as swollen.

  

“We are going to get an update from the doctor in the morning and hopefully an approximate timeline for when Dad might be able to travel. He is very much hoping to leave Friday, but I don't know about that. While he is clearly improving each day he still has pneumonia and is very weak.” - Chris’ email

  

Today I discover that Dr. Kašperová understands every word of the German language but, like her English, she struggles to speak. The first thing she tells me, without any prompting on my part, is that John is not going anywhere in a hurry.

  

17 April, Wednesday

This morning Dr. Kašperová introduces us to her daughter Julia a blonde medical student who speaks English well. This is a teaching hospital and Julia is studying to become a cardiologist just like her parents. Her grandfather Julius was one of the founders and the main cardiologist in the Slovak Cardiovascular Centre in the former Czecho-Slovakia. In two years she will complete her studies. Julia is twenty-three years old.

  

10:00

Chris buys a disposable telephone at T-Mobile on Ivánska cesta 12, John’s daughters are eager to speak with him. This turns out to be a good call as John’s spirits lift and for the first time he sits up in bed with his feet flat on the floor.

  

It is a little after 4 p.m. when the first call is made. Church bells are chiming, sirens are wailing and John is coughing, a dry hacking cough that does not let up. “ It’s bad.” he tells them. He would like to go straight to Stanford hospital when he arrives in San Francisco.

  

Chris wonders how I know that to call abroad from Slovakia one must dial 00 - the exit code.

  

Today we learn that we must pay the hospital bill in full and in cash on the day we leave. The University Hospital does not accept credit cards. Dr. Kašperová will give us an estimate after she speaks with the billing department.

  

The first option we look into is a money transfer. Western Union is surprisingly expensive, so we go next door to the bank, the only one in the area that deals with money transfers. For a surprisingly small amount we are able to open an account. But, we think this is too complicated, and the bank does do not open until 9 a.m. Instead, John gives us his password and twice daily we withdraw the cash limit from both of our accounts.

  

A few days later Dr. Kašperová tells us that the daily cost of staying in the University Hospital is 113€ ($150.00) plus medicines and procedures such as x-rays and electrocardiograms. We will not know the final cost until the day we leave.

  

John urges Chris to build-up a cash reserve of $3,000€ and then changes it to $4,000€. Chris is hesitant, he thinks this is too much. I want that Chris should take his father’s advice as I am not convinced that John is going to make it home alive. This will not be the first in flight death we will have experienced. Once we had to make an emergency landing in Goose Bay, Newfoundland, Canada. I wonder how complicated it will be to have John cremated, how much it will cost and in which country it will happen. We are told, by someone who knows, not to tell the airlines that we are traveling with a high risk passenger.

  

18 April, Thursday

John continues to make great strides. Today he walked across the room and back and he was wheeled outside into the sunshine to the radiology department to be x-rayed (antiquated is the word he used) and his catheter was removed. We are all happy about this.

  

This morning Dr. Kašperová tells me that John, who is eager to leave, can go home whenever he wants. I think this is good reverse psychology and I was going to use it on him. When I tell him that he can go home whenever he wants, John says, "Let's wait and see what the doctors say.”

  

More drama today when we find out that John’s eighty-nine year old brother, Spiro, has passed away. We suspect that, if not for John’s pacemaker, he and his brother would have died one day apart.

  

Poor Chris, there have been some difficult moments for him. We are on the street in Bratislava when his sister calls to tell him the news. This is not easy for Chris as he loves his uncle Spiro.

  

I am a little surprised this afternoon when John asks what else was said during this conversation - I was not expecting Chris to tell him unless he asked the specific question. John had made it clear that he did not want to hear anything about Spiro while he was on the trip. Chris finds this moment too difficult so, just like a scene in a movie, I lean in close, gently place my hand on John’s right shoulder and whisper in his ear, “Spiro died.” John, staring off into space, does not say a word. “That’s why we looked so glum when we arrived,” I tell him “I hadn’t noticed.” John replies taking a quick glance over his right shoulder. This is where I stand.

  

Two years ago John threw an eighty-fifth birthday party for himself and invited his close family and friends. At the end of the bash one of the questions I was asked was, who is this woman, a mother of two, with the same last name. John, a psychologist who spent twenty-five years in analysis, never thinks to introduce his children.

  

“You might have introduced your children, “ I say to John as we all pile into the car early the next morning. “People were wondering why …” I get cut-off as everyone agrees. A good idea too late, but it makes no difference, no one feels slighted.

  

John, who lives in Palo Alto, California feels grateful that he flew to New York City the week before our Danube cruise to reminisce with Spiro after he refused further treatment for lung cancer.

  

Near the end of his life Spiro was engulfed by blindness. In part, his obituary read, “Even while struggling with his blindness, Spiro could not be deterred. Throughout the rigorous training at the Guide Dog Foundation, Spiro rallied his classmates, transforming a tense and strenuous course into one filled with laughter and friendship. In appreciation, his classmates named him the honorary “Chief” of the fictitious [Where the?] Fugawe Tribe. It was one of his proudest achievements.” - The Suffolk Times

  

Uncle Spiro worked on the Manhattan project. It says so in the Suffolk Times. Chris says he’s known all along, but he does not know more.

  

We were told that Spiro died in peace and he was joking up to the end. The service was last Wednesday, the church was full and it was a gloriously beautiful day. Aunt Joan, who also has lung cancer, won’t last another three months.

  

I tell Dr. Kašperová in private and in my limited German, that John's brother Spiro died. And, I tell her that he had requested that he not be told, but since he had asked about him the other day and if he were to ask again we were going to tell him. I want her to know just in case John finds the news too depressing - she can knock him out. The doctor agrees, John should know, and she wants to know how he died. Then she tells me that every day when she comes to work she wonders if John is still alive. Dr. Kašperová explains the obvious: John ist alt und er ist krank mit schlechten Herz. John is old and he is sick with a bad heart.

  

4:00 p.m.

Chris is exhausted and he would like to return to the hotel, but I discourage this with wide-open eyes. This is not a good time to leave, John has just learned that his brother has died. Chris agrees and sits back down.

  

We spend the next three hours by John's side as he reminisces. I mention that he is the last of three brothers to survive. John tells me this is something he is going to think about. The eldest Mary, died of pneumonia at the age of two. John’s father showed him a photo of her of one day in his flower shop in the Bronx. John did not learn that he had a sister until he was ten years old.

  

As we get up to leave I tell John that if he gets too sad to ask the doctor to put him to sleep. “Juliana,” he says leaning forward from a sitting position. He takes an unflinching look into my eyes, “I don’t mind being sad,” he tells me emphatically. Then he repeats this for emphasis. Of course I know this already, but who wants to use the words “too depressed”. Now I learn to speak even more plainly with John.

  

Seven days after John is admitted to the hospital he says, “It’s ME time, tell the extended family about ME.” They do not know that John is in a hospital in Slovakia.

  

19 April, Friday

Today the doctors start preparing the paperwork, this is a good sign. If, after the weekend, Dr. Papinčák tells us, John continues to improve we can go home on Tuesday.

  

This morning we leave the hotel and walk right past the public park, also known as the medical garden (Medická záhrada) on our way to the Ondřejská Cemetery. This is a pleasant surprise, a green oasis in medieval Bratislava. I would like to stay longer and photograph all the angelic tombstones, but Chris, who practices moderation to the excess, is hungry, and like his father, he takes his food seriously.

  

We are in the eastern part of the Staré Město and on the way back Chris takes us to see the Catholic Church of St. Elizabeth, also known as the Blue Church. It sits on the corner of Bezručova street and Groslingova. This is another surprise, art nouveau in medieval Bratislava. Built between 1907-1908 everything about the Blue Church is astonishingly blue - inside and out.

  

Chris has been a vegetarian for 34 years now so the lunch menu is somewhat limited. But, this fact is rarely a problem especially in cosmopolitan Bratislava. The restaurant he chooses is owned by Jordanians and our server is an Afghan. While Chris eats his falafel I eat a delicious bowl of vegetable soup made by an Indian chef. When we are done a Slovakian waitress prepares a gyros for John. While we wait I watch CNN with three Jordanians males and learn that the terrorists who blew up the Boston marathon are two young brothers from the Russian Caucasus area.

  

Back at the hospital I wait outside and explore the grounds while I give Chris and John time alone. I know that my behavior is suspicious and that I am being watched when I take notes and speak into my voice recorder. But, it is when I start to take photos that the security guard comes over and asks me not to photograph. “Nerorazumiem,” (I don’t understand) I tell him understanding fully. I want to practice my Slovakian on him. “Razumien.” (I understand).

  

Okay, so there is no soap in the bathroom and the hospital could use a paint job and some Spackling paste and I will not get into the elevator - still it is a solid structure with a set of surprisingly elegant and dilapidated stairways that face each other in the biochemistry and molecular genetics building. John is laying under cathedral ceilings next to two large arched wooden windows that he is free to open. He feels the breeze and he has a view of a Linden tree, Slovakia’s national tree that is measured in centuries, and he can see the church steeple. Like us, he is on the fourth floor. John continues to be amazed that the doctors are working to identical standards and he has a favorite nurse, Anna, who bathes him in the early morning light.

  

This evening I notice that John’s dry hacking cough has returned, I think that this cannot be good. We wait and wonder: What will the doctors have to say about John leaving the hospital on Tuesday morning?

  

20 April, Saturday

I am sure that Chris feels like we abandoned his father this morning but I insist on changing the routine. I think that since John is not sleeping as much he would prefer to receive his newspaper in the morning instead of the afternoon. And, what if they sell out! Plus, I am drawn to the the medieval city centre. I want to walk there and I want to walk fast. On our way I talk just as fast, in part to distract Chris from his uneasy feeling. I think that I have Chris convinced that the doctors are stringing him and John along. Everyday the doctors tell them only a few days more when in private they tell me how dire the situation really is, which is obvious to me.

  

After we buy the newspaper at Interpress Chris relaxes enough to take a detour to the Bratislava Information Service (BIS). He would like to climb atop Michael's Tower before we leave Bratislava. Chris is sure our trip is about to end.

  

It is here, at the information center, that we see the beginnings of what promises to be an even more exciting day. This year Bratislava is celebrating 20 years of independence from Czecho-Slovakia. The Gentle Revolution, also called The Velvet Divorce, took effect on 1 January 1993. The Slovak Republic, also called Slovakia or Slovensko, is Europe’s newest country.

  

As we race back to the hospital with John’s coffee and newspaper we agree to make a dash for the exit, but first Chris would like to make sure that his father is going to be all right. Of course, John gives us the okay and like little children we run out the door and down the street to the Square (Primacialne Namestie). It is 11:00 a.m. and the parade has just begun.

  

We follow thirty professional actors dressed in period costumes, horsemen, drummers, and soldiers, men and women, carrying long rifles, swords, flags and banners. Together we march up to Michael's Gate (Michalska Brana) built around 1300 and the only surviving of four gates that were used to enter the mediaeval city. A large banner depicting St.George slaying the dragon and the message Bratislava Pre Všetkych (Bratislava For All) bars the entrance.

  

Here we watch performances so arresting that I put down my camera. After a four rifle salute declarations are made by someone who looks like the mayor of Bratislava, Milan Ftáčnik, and the banner is raised signaling the unsealing of the city gates.

  

We follow the parade back to the square where we watch a soldier stand on his horse, drape the horse’s leg over his shoulder, lie underneath the horse and place the horse’s foot lightly on his chest while he is laying flat on his back. In the square we are joined by a king and queen. This year Bratislava is celebrating the 450th anniversary of the first royal coronation.

  

Formerly known as Pozsony by the Hungarians and Pressburg (in reference to the castle) by the Germans, Bratislava, became the new capital of Royal Hungary in 1536 after the Ottoman Turks, under the leadership of Sultan Suleiman the Magnificent, swept into Hungary and overtook Buda at the battle of Mohacs in 1526. Bratislava, the official name since 1919 when it was made the capital of Slovakia in the newly created Czecho-Slovakia, was honored to be the city of coronation and it lasted for almost three hundred years. Ten Habsburg kings and nine queens were crowned in the gothic St. Martin’s Cathedral using the crown of St. Stephen the first king of Hungary who was crowned on Christmas Day in the year 1000.

  

The medieval Crown of St. Stephen, also called the Holy Crown of Hungary, is the symbol of Hungarian nationhood. People from far and wide will come to watch the authentic coronation ceremony which follows the exact same ritual based on historical documents.

  

Nota bene: The coronation ceremony is held every year during the last weekend of June in honor of Maria Theresa who was crowned on 25 June 1741.

  

12:31 p.m.

We are on a mission to find the closest thing we can to a Greek Orthodox church to light three candles for Chris’ deceased kinfolk. At John’s request. On the way up to St. Nicholas, which sits under the walled castle and is in the old Jewish Quarter we stop on Židovská 1 (Jewish) to visit the Museum of Clocks. I see a clock with engravings of the different phases of human life. A poignant reminder of how time affects all of us.

  

It is a steep climb up the stone stairs to St. Nicholas which is hidden behind a row of buildings. Built in 1661 the entrance to this nondescript baroque church is flanked by trees. A statue of St. Nicholas stands in the niche above the door and above a coat of arms which is partly obscured by leafy branches. When we walk in through the open door we are stunned into silence. There are no pews only chairs lining the south and east walls. The adherents are standing in the center gathered around three heavily bearded Orthodox priests dressed in black cossack robes and wearing pectoral crosses. It feels as though we have just stepped into the Middle Ages.

  

“We found a beautiful, old Orthodox Church today, St. Nicholas, and lit three candles… and gave them a donation as Dad had requested. We took lots of pictures to show him, and he was pleased. They were in the middle of a ceremony with singing and prayers, the Church was full, and 40 minutes later everyone left and the Church was locked up so we just made it.” - Chris’ email

  

2:16 p.m.

I do not have a voracious appetite during our sojourn in Bratislava, I only eat two full breakfast’s and three main meals, one of which is a delicious bowl of goulash soup mit dunkel Brot at the Pivnica U Kozal on Panská 27.

  

We sit outside. When I am done I walk through an archway and climb down a broad set of stairs to the restaurant/bar deep underground. Who can believe this place with its low arched ceiling and dim lights. There is only one group of men sitting at a table immediately to my left as I enter and a lone man sits on my right a few tables over. I pay them no heed and carry on. I feel uncomfortable as I try to open the door to the WC (water closet) and realize that someone is in there and I have to wait. But, I think it is only a case of nerves and after I calm myself down by looking at the art on the wall I ask the lone figure if there is anyone in there as I try to open the door once again. This time it opens.

  

I find my fear curious and take some time to soak in the atmosphere in this most unusual restaurant underground. I am looking at a vintage tin beer sign across from the men when one of them orders me to, “COME, SIT!” I am paralyzed by fear. Then I am ordered to “DRINK BEER!”

  

What happens next to my field of vision is interesting. All I see as I turn around is someone pushing something aside and patting down a place for me to sit and I see a table topped with huge glasses and a pitcher filled with pivo (beer) which one of the men is holding aloft. I never see the men themselves, but I know by how they sound that they are big burly types who have been sitting here for a while.

  

I find the thought of joining them and drinking beer, in this cave, in the middle of the afternoon so ludicrous that I laugh out loud and in the same loud and commanding voice I reply, “THAT is NOT going to happen." There is dead silence. Released from my paralysis I take this opportunity to escape and run up the stairs without ever looking at the men.

  

Once outside I tell Chris about the unique restaurant/bar below and still curious about my fear I follow him downstairs and hang out while he uses the WC - still never looking at the men. But, as we are walking out I lift up my camera and take a photograph. In the photo one of the men is lurching drunkenly towards me. I count a total of six big celebrating Slovaks. It is not until we arrive home that I learn that Pivnica means cellar.

  

Today John walks across the room and when he arrives at the sink he shaves himself. Talk is still about returning Tuesday and for once I believe that if John continues to make progress we will indeed return sooner rather than later.

  

21 April, Sunday

10:07 a.m.

No matter how many times we mention the festivities taking place in Bratislava this weekend John does not let us go. Instead of music, dance shows, and horse races this morning we wheel John outside for some fresh air and we walk the length of the corridor, twice.

  

This whole thing feels surreal - we’re in medieval Bratislava, Chris is pushing his father in a wheel chair and I’m looking over my shoulder every time I want to take a photograph.

  

10:48 a.m.

Dr. Soña Kiñová tells us that John’s cough will last for a couple of weeks. And, she tells us that John is good to go home on Tuesday. But, this is not her decision to make - still we prepare ourselves mentally.

  

Dr. Soña speaks fluent English. We pepper her with questions about Bratislava and Slovakia. Then she tells us about the students who study at this University Hospital. They come from all over the world, she explains, because it is relatively inexpensive to study here. Twice she mentions that the Greeks are the laziest students and she explains why. In Greece, in order to own a pharmacy, one must be educated as a doctor. The Greek students do not want to learn, but they want to own pharmacies.

  

At first I think it is interesting that the Greeks are the laziest students, but after she mentions it a second time I start to feel uncomfortable and I look at Chris and John, but neither say a word. I think Dr. Soña knows that John is a Greek but Chris tells me this is not so. I think she knows by the name - Beletsis. Anyone with any experience with Greeks knows that a family name ending in "sis" hails from mainland Greece.

  

1:16 p.m.

Michael’s Tower, also called Michael’s Gate because it is a combination of the two, was built around 1500 and it is more than 50 meters high (seven floors, I counted). Climb the narrow circular staircase for a postcard view of Bratislava.

Only so many people are allowed entrance at a time and there is a guard on every level and a military museum with a collection of medieval arms and military uniforms. The enthusiastic guard on the top level insists that Chris take a photo of me from the inside looking out. Since he speaks no English he gestures wildly for me to step outside and come around to the window. He thinks this is an excellent idea. I photograph them from the outside looking in. The guard poses but he does not smile.

  

When we visited the Czech Republic in the spring of 2000 I read that the people complained that the playwright president Vaclav’s Havel’s new wife since 1997, the actress Dagmar Veškrnova, smiled too much.

  

5:02 p.m.

John, who is wearing a hospital gown, leans out the window. I too lean out the window. He comments on the good weather. I quote Chris. “We arrive in winter and stay until spring.“

  

22 April, Monday (Eleven days later)

12:36 a.m.

Our airline Lufthansa is on strike. Hopefully it will last for one day only. I lay awake and wonder, what will Dr. Kašperová say about John leaving the hospital on Tuesday morning?

  

There is good news and there is bad news. The good news is that we can leave tomorrow and the bad news is that a medical escort will not be available for one more day. Will his father play it safe? I make Chris a bet and I lose. John is adamant about leaving the hospital tomorrow.

  

John is sitting up in his hospital bed munching on a gyros - not looking at anyone. Chris is standing on John’s left leaning against the wall and I am standing to the right of John. We are near the foot of the bed where Dr. Kašperová stands deep in thought - she is looking down. There is silence.

  

Dr. Kašperová is in charge, she is the one who must determine when John is fit to fly and she has just received the news that John has decided to return home tomorrow without a medical assistant. Chris and I look at each other and together we look at John who refuses to look at anyone. We look at Dr. Kašperová who is still deep in thought and looking down at the floor. This goes on for some time - around and around Chris and I look while John continues to munch refusing to look at anyone and the doctor continues to thinks things through.

  

I tell Dr. Kašperová that John has an option - stay one more day and return with a medical assistant. Dr. Kašperová does not take her eyes off me as she digests this information. John, who is adamant about returning tomorrow, looks up at Dr. Kašperová and with great cheer says, "I'm fine! “ Then he tries to explain that he lives in an independent and assisted senior living retirement community. Dr. Kašperová demands more silence as she looks to the floor once again for answers. Around and around we go again. Chris and I look at each other, then we look at John who continues to munch and refuses to look at anyone. This makes us smile.

  

Dr. Kašperová looks up and tells me that she had made it clear on Friday to those responsible that John could go home on Tuesday and that she had ordered a medical assistant. Earlier in the day Dr. Papinčák had also made this clear to us - arrangements were made on Friday. I acknowledge this and express our frustration with with those who are responsible for our predicament. We all prefer that John return with a medical assistant by his side.

  

Finally, Dr. Kašperová says that it is fine for John to travel home tomorrow and she suggests that he have a drink - whiskey. This makes me laugh and I feel relief that John will be able to leave without a medical assistant and with the doctor’s blessing. Dr. Kašperová explains that she will give us medicine if Johns blood pressure should rise and if he has difficulty breathing. She gives Chris her email address and her mobile telephone number and asks that we contact her when we arrive in Frankfurt.

  

This is our last night in Bratislava. John is in high spirits as we prepare his clothes for a 7:15 a.m. departure. Piece by piece I hold them up for his approval. When I come to his boxer shorts I hold them high. John exclaims, "Aren't those cute Juliana!" After eleven days in the coronary care unit John is excited and ready to return home.

  

Bratislava, located in southwestern Slovakia, is the only European capital that borders two countries - it is within walking distance to the Austrian and Hungarian borders. The trip west to the Vienna airport by private car will take one hour. Unbeknownst to us at the time, the driver we hire is the hotel receptionist’s boyfriend, Matej.

  

Back at the hotel we pack, one small backpack each. We have reservations, but no tickets. It is not until late into the nights that we learn that all the arrangements have been made. Lufthansa will fly us from Vienna to Frankfurt and United Airlines will fly us direct to San francisco.

  

23 April, Tuesday morning

7:00 a.m. Sharp

Matej is waiting for us in the hotel lobby. He greets us with a smile. He drives what seems a long way out of the way as the hotel is just around the corner. But, he explains that the car must take a different route. While the hospital guard and Matej figure out where to park Chris jumps out of the car and I miss my opportunity to say goodbye to the doctors and nurses.

  

Chris said that when he went to pick up his father it didn’t look like anything was happening. The curtain around John’s bed was closed and the staff was busy. Chris drew the curtain aside and there was John, he was laying down, fully clothed and ready to go. Dr. Kašperová came over and John’s favorite nurse, Anna, helped him into a wheelchair, but not before he surprised her by giving her a big hug. It took only a few minutes to pull it all together.

  

When John is wheeled into the daylight he calls my name. I turn to look at him and in the excitement of the moment I clap my hands and give him two thumbs up. This is indeed an exciting time.

  

On our way out Matej, a compassionate humanitarian, tells me that our kindness made the old man with the cane cry. While we waited we helped him to his seat on the bench. “Dobrý!” (Good) I exclaim with a big smile once he is settled. I see that his eye is red and teary, but I do not make the connection. I think this is due to his condition.

  

Matej, who was once a tour guide, takes us on the scenic route to the Vienna airport. Along the way he tells us that, “Socialism has good sides and the bad sides. Bad thing is, the bad sides stayed and the good ones are gone.”

  

8:53 a.m.

As we check in to special assistance the attendant says to John, “Good children, you are flying business class.” John replies. “I feel very special.” She does not know that we came directly from the hospital.

  

Because he can, Chris sends Dr. Kašperová an email. She promptly replies, “Dear Chris and Juliana, it is nice to hear from you, thank you for the message. We wish you good luck and a lot of strength for Mr. John. Kind regards, Viera Kašperová”

 

We arrive early and the Frankfurt gate reads destination Brindisi. I happen to know that this is where one catches the ferry to Greece. I am ready to keep moving and ask John a spirited traveler. I can see us heading south and me racing him around in a wheelchair.

  

In flight, Chris and I check on John several times. I ask the flight attendant to keep her eye on him and I explain that John is a high risk passenger. John later says that the flight back was really difficult for him, but he shows no signs of distress. He just looks like a worn-out traveler.

  

In San Francisco we hand over John to his daughters and son-in-law who take him home and we catch our flight to San Diego. We sit by the emergency exit doors. The flight attendant would like to know if we are willing and able to help in case of an emergency. She would like that all the passengers see that we are reading the instruction manual.

  

On our way to our car I quiz Chris. “In what position do you place your arms when you slide down the emergency chute?” Chris holds his arms high in the air and says “Whee!” It feels good to laugh again.

  

It is not until we are on the I5 (Interstate 5) heading north that it hits me. I sure am glad that things worked out well as they did, after all, it was me who suggested we invite him on this trip. John said that he was glad that we made the best of being in Bratislava and that we did all the right things. He thinks that we saved his life.

  

It turns out that my father in-law did not suffer a heart attack after all. Although, what he did experience, a heart exacerbation, a sudden worsening of an already bad condition, is just as serious. John did all the right things. He ate a salty lunch which is verboten, he drank alcohol which is verboten and he stopped taking his diuretic as prescribed.

  

Complicated times (his words, not mine) for John indeed. The difference between the photo taken of him on 7 April about to embark on the ship in Passau, Germany where the trip started and 7 May, two weeks after he arrived home, is astonishing. John came back an old man leaning on a cane. His doctor tells him that it will take at least six weeks for John to feel well rested and to regain his strength.

  

The Danube Waltz

My father-in-law was lucky, his last trip abroad nearly cost him his life and travel insurance covered his flight home and trip interruption. The hospital bill, which we paid in full and in cash the day before we left, amounted to only 1,889.36 € ($2,500.00) and that was covered by his medical insurance and Travel Guard.

  

John, who would like me to make him look heroic, spends eleven nights and twelve days recovering in the oldest teaching hospital in medieval Bratislava. During his stay Boston is shutdown by a manhunt, the death toll rises when a Texas fertilizer plant implodes and his last remaining brother Spiro dies. John loses his sense of humor only once when he is hungry and it is brief. His unshakeable optimism and indomitable spirit saves us all.

  

I have an easy time with it all, in part, because I do not concern myself with the logistics. I provide moral support and look to my late friend Count Alfonso de Bourbon for words of wisdom, “Don’t make it any more difficult than it already is.” Chris agrees, “It is what it is.” Plus, the doctors are really nice and they think we are “awesome people”. They “threaten” to come and visit us when they come to California, but not this year.

  

We are somewhat of a novelty in Bratislava. Most tourists come for a single day, riverboat walking tours last two hours. We stay in Bratislava for twelve days and for the most part we frequent the same markets, cafe’s and news stands. The Bratislavs are curious.

  

Free wireless and John’s cafe latte’s are not the only reason to go to The Green Tree Cafe on Obchodná ulica (street). It is helpful that Chris has a sob story to share with the staff - father is in the hospital, we’re going home soon, I’m buying the coffee’s for him. These girls are young and they are sweet, but they never ask about John, it is me they wonder about. “Where is your wife?” they ask when I am missing. They are curious and they are always smiling.

  

What to expect if your father-in-law has a heart attack In Bratislava, Slovakia and the ship leaves without you? Expect the doctors and nurses in the University Hospital Old Town to be ”exceptional” - John’s word.

  

“Not only were they competent, but how much they cared about me, how concerned they were about my getting home safely and how Dr. Kašperová wanted to know, after I got home, by email or a phone call, that all is okay. Most people complain about doctors, that they're very impersonal, they don't pay any attention to them, they don't really care about you they just want to get doing what they have to do, and get rid of you, These doctors and nurses were so different. It was very special and unusual to have that kind of care shown by anybody and we after all we were strangers too - which makes it even more important." - John Beletsis

Photographs taken by me at Point Pleasant Beach. Shot with the Sony 50mm F/1.2 GM At F/11 Shutter speed 6 seconds ISO 100.

 

It was quite a nice 4th of July full of crowds of people that wanted to spend their weekend at the beach to see the big show. It felt very pre-covid as the crowds were overwhelmingly congested on the Boardwalk. I shot simultaneously with two cameras. The first camera was with a crop sensor. The A6300 with a wide angle lens the Sigma 19mm. The second camera I shot with was my A7Riii with my Sony 50mm F/1.2 GM. The show was suppose to start at 9:00 PM and eventually started at 9:30 PM. Unfortunately, due to the delay it rained a little bit, and some of my photos will reflect that. However, I found the photos that were affected by the droplets of rain falling on the front lens elements to be characterful. That's is why I have decided to share them rather than delete them.

 

All rights reserved ©

Photographs taken by me at Point Pleasant Beach. Shot with the Sigma 19mm F/2.8 DG DN Art. At F/11 Shutter speed 4 seconds ISO 100.

 

It was quite a nice 4th of July full of crowds of people that wanted to spend their weekend at the beach to see the big show. It felt very pre-covid as the crowds were overwhelmingly congested on the Boardwalk. I shot simultaneously with two cameras. The first camera was with a crop sensor. The A6300 with a wide angle lens the Sigma 19mm. Which this series showcases.. The second camera I shot with was my A7Riii with my Sony 50mm F/1.2 GM. The show was suppose to start at 9:00 PM and eventually started at 9:30 PM. Unfortunately, due to the delay it rained a little bit, and some of my photos will reflect that. However, I found the photos that were affected by the droplets of rain falling on the front lens elements to be characterful. That's is why I have decided to share them rather than delete them.

 

All rights reserved ©

Looking out from underneath Willday's Farm Bridge on the Birmingham and Fazeley Canal, in Curdworth, North Warwickshire.

 

The story of the Birmingham and Fazeley begins in 1770, when the Birmingham Canal Company was seen as having a monopoly. At the time, the coalfields at Walsall did not have canal access, and a public meeting was held at Lichfield on 18 August, to discuss an independent link from Walsall to Fradley Junction on the Trent and Mersey Canal, passing through Lichfield. Opposition from local landowners resulted in the plan being shelved, but a further plan was proposed at a meeting held in Warwick in August 1781, for a canal to run from Wednesbury through Fazeley to Atherstone, which was the end of the Coventry Canal at the time. The plans were changed somewhat in October, but shareholders in the Birmingham Canal saw it as a serious threat.

 

Two bills were put before Parliament in 1782, one for the Birmingham and Fazeley, and a rival one from the Birmingham Canal for a branch from Wednesbury to Walsall. Both sides opposed the other's proposal, and both bills were defeated. The promoters then opened negotiations with other canal companies, to ensure that when the canal was built, it would be part of a larger network. In 1782, they obtained an agreement from the Oxford Canal Company that they would complete the route to the River Thames at Oxford, one from the Coventry Canal that they would extend their canal from Atherstone to Fazeley, and agreed that they would complete the Coventry Canal's route from Fazeley as far as Whittington, as the Coventry Canal company could not finance the whole route. The Trent and Mersey would finish that link by building the remainder of the route to Fradley Junction. A second bill was put before Parliament, and at the same time, the Birmingham Canal presented a scheme for a canal from Riders Green to Broadwaters, near Walsall, with eight branches, and a second canal from Newhall to Fazeley. The Birmingham and Fazeley was authorised by an Act of Parliament obtained in 1784. The new company and the Birmingham Canal merged soon afterwards, becoming the awkwardly named Birmingham & Birmingham & Fazeley Canal Company.

 

John Smeaton was the engineer employed by the Birmingham and Fazeley, but work did not start immediately, as he was also responsible for the Riders Green to Broadwaters line, which was completed first. The project did not go smoothly, as there were disputes between James Bough, the superintendent of the canal company, and Pinkertons, who were the civil engineering contractors employed to carry out the work. The issue concerned the cement that the Pinkertons were using. Work on the Fazeley line began in April 1786, with Bough still acting as superintenent, and the Pinkertons responsible for the construction of the section between Minworth and Fazeley. In late 1786, George Pinkerton found out that the levels, which had been surveyed by Bough, were wrong. Samuel Bull, the engineer for the canal company, investigated and reported that Pinkerton was right. The Pinkertons started to work on the project from January 1787, even though the contracts were not signed until May. Bough made a series of allegations that Pinkertons' workmanship and the materials used were of poor quality.

 

The company stopped paying Pinkerton in late 1788, as the costs were exceeding the original estimates, and the contract was taken away from them in February 1789. There was then a financial dispute over money which had been paid to Pinkerton as "extras", but which the company then claimed were overpayments. Some £2,750 was at issue, and the case rumbled on for a decade, until a court case in 1801 gave him only £436 of the claim. Unhappy with the outcome, Pinkerton justified his position, but his remarks about John Houghton, the Company Clerk, were deemed to be libellous, for which he was fined and spent some time in prison.

 

The canal was completed in August 1789. The benefits of the co-operation with the other canal companies were that when all the links were completed in 1790, it immediately generated a great deal of freight traffic. This created problems, as the flights of locks at Aston and Farmer's Bridge became congested, and this became worse when the Warwick Canal built a junction onto the Digbeth Branch. The problem was not solved until 1844, when the Birmingham and Warwick Junction Canal to the south east and the Tame Valley Canal to the north west were opened. The name of the Birmingham & Birmingham & Fazeley Canal Company was changed to Birmingham Canal Navigations in 1794.

 

Waiting on supply ships to arrive and leave the harbour I snapped the pilot boat on its return, checking my photo's tonight I found this one had captured a fellow in his blue suede shoes on the river bank opposite, with his deck chair, it made me smile and have a chuckle .

 

A maritime pilot, also known as a marine pilot or harbor pilot and sometimes simply called a pilot, is a sailor who manoeuvres ships through dangerous or congested waters, such as harbors or river mouths. He or she is normally an ex ship captain and a highly experienced shiphandler who possess detailed knowledge of the particular waterway, e.g. actual depth, direction and strength of the wind, current and tide at any time of the day. The pilot is a navigational expert for the port of call.

 

Maneuvering a ship through the shallow water to berth / unberth in a port requires teamwork which involves, apart from the port pilot, the ship's captain (jointly responsible), ship's crew, port tugs, and shore linesmen. Since the pilot is on board the ship, he controls the tugs and linesmen through a radio and the ship directly. The ship's captain ensures his crew carry out the pilot's orders.

 

High skill is required to be a pilot as the channels through which the ships move towards the port is normally too narrow and shallow for the size of the ships, stopping distance of the ships being a few nautical miles and the fact that ships do not steer at slow speed. Even if a ship captain is a regular visitor to a certain port, he can not match the expertise and experience of the Pilot.

 

In an unfortunate case of an accident, high pollution is a risk as the ships carry thousands of tonnes of fuel for her own consumption.(Clean up cost and other damages of the Exxon Valdez disaster was around $ 5 billion). Also if a ship is wrecked in the channel, the channel and the port could be closed for months until the shipwreck is removed.

 

Most ports have compulsory pilotage.

 

Legally, the master has full responsibility for safe navigation of his vessel, even if a pilot is on board. If he has clear grounds that the pilot may jeopardize the safety of navigation, he can relieve him from his duties and ask for another pilot or, if not compulsory to have a pilot on board, navigate the vessel without one. Only in transit of the Panama Canal and in Canada does the pilot have the full responsibility for the navigation of the vessel.

 

In English law, Section 742 of the Merchant Shipping Act 1894 defines a pilot as "any person not belonging to a ship who has the conduct thereof." In other words, someone other than a member of the crew who has control over the speed, direction, and movement of the ship. The current United Kingdom legislation governing pilotage is the Pilotage Act 1987.

 

Pilotage is one of the oldest professions, as old as sea travel, and it is one of the most important in maritime safety. The oldest recorded history dates back to about the 7th century BC.[1] The economic and environmental risk from today's large cargo ships makes the role of the pilot essential[citation needed].

Dia d’estrena, del nou trípode i la nova motxilla dels que ja us he parlat al canal de Telegram, teniu el link a la descripció i amb el suport de @phototoolsweb, així que volia algun lloc interessant i vaig decidir provar la primera pujada a Tristaina de la temporada. Fins a arribar a la part alta cap rastre de nou, però ja la baixada cap al segon llac ja havies de passar per algunes congestes grandetes de neu, però, mai por. El que si vaig veure que per al costat dret que és l’habitual que faig tenia massa neu per passar i vaig decidir atansar-me fins al tercer llac per al costat esquerre que no hi havia passat mai. es fàcil així que cap problema, però calia travessar algunes congestes més de neu, en una vaig enfonsar tota una cama, però sense cap conseqüència més, que sortir del forat. No va ser un dia amb grans resultats, no sé si per la llum, la inspiració... i les úniques fotos que he salvat de la sessió han estat aquest reflex fet quasi des de l’inici del segon llac.

 

EXIF: 20s f11 ISO100 25mm

EXIF: 90s f11 ISO100 19mm

@sonyalpha A7RV + Tamron 17-28 f2.8

Tripode @benroesp Mammoth

Filtre Kase polaritzador + filtre ND

 

www.rogervive.com

 

#ordino #arcalis #tristaina #andorra #mountain #lake #pirineus #pyrenees #pirineos #descobreixandorra #visitandorra #andorraworld #landscape #landscapephotography #rogerviveandorra #rogervivephoto #paisaje #naturaleza #montañas #travelphotography #mountainslovers #landscapephotograph #landscape_captures #travelphotographer #mirror #sonyalpha #landscape_hunter #landscape_collection #sonya7rv

Baltimore - my sickbed - yeah yeah I know I look like crap but I am starting to feel like myself a little more.. still a little congested, light headed, sore throat and raspy voice with a killer head ache - but I am sure that I will feel human again any day now

(1 in a multiple picture album)

We went to the ocean this week. We used to go often before the traffic got so congested. Though it is only 71 miles away, it can take two or three hours on certain days.

We found the town of Laguna Beach had not changed much and enjoyed the art galleries. The ocean, of course, had changed not at all. This shot is from the bluff south of Laguna Beach shot between some of the foliage in Heisler Park. It rained most of the morning but just as the sun was at the right angle the clouds parted. It was a gift from the photo gods.

Since getting the furnitures over, the living room appeared a bit more congested. And for the first time, I felt like being the Lord of the Manor when I had my breakfast this morning.

 

There was still plenty of work needed to be done with the apartment but certainly the move had kick started us into gear. Definitely there would be more decorating to come and the place would start to resemble a full house.

 

Anita had been kept busy still with paperwork and all. She had an appointment with the lawyers earlier as well as a buyer for the old MPV coming over to have a look. Still waiting for an offer though.

 

Blogged here.

HE'S HOME!

 

They wanted to keep him one more night because they'd introduced a new heart med -- Viagra -- at about 4:00 p.m. (watch out Tucker). The fluid has cleared a great deal from his chest, his breathing is normal (for him) and we got to take him home. It wasn't exactly against medical advice because they said it would be okay either way. He will be on several medications every day for the rest of his life, but he's very happy as we are all together. After we drove in, I went in to prepare Tucker for seeing Noah, to mellow him out, sotto voce, so he didn't get too excited. Noah's to avoid strenuous exercise moving forward and that will be difficult to monitor but we certainly will. He has congestive heart failure and pulmonary hypertension. He's a sick dog. But he's home. He sees the cardiologist again Saturday morning and we're going to be plugged in to the emergency animal hospital here for the duration. I thank God for this. And thank you all for your support. You and all my in-person friends really helped me through this; Matt also has social media friends who did the same. Thank you so very much. We're not out of the woods and anything can happen. But he's HOME.

zero 2000 / pan f / nd-filter