Guck Mal, ein Klassiker!

"Guck mal, ein Klassiker", was what the shop assistant said to his colleagues when I pulled my old running shoe out of my bag. I had come to Runners Point in Düsseldorf to get a new pair of shoes, bringing an old one to show what type of shoe I wanted. I have not done a lot of running over the last few years, I have to confess, so I have not bothered getting a new pair, which any runner knows is a deadly sin. Your poor body normally has to pay for such nonchalance, and my knees reacted to the lack of cushioning from the tarmac last time I tried to use them.

The three shop assistants looked long and hard at the footwear relics of yore. The one who was the most excited kept repeating the word "Klassiker", which is not difficult to understand even if you speak no German. I honestly cannot say how old the shoes are, but we are talking decades here, rather than years, I fear. The situation reminded me of the time when my rather old Omega watch was passed around among admiring watchmakers on a sight-seeing coach. That watch is now 30 years old and is still working perfectly. Not so my running shoes; they are now more like a pair of rubber tyre flip-flops.

Mind you, I did a lot of long-distance running as late as 15 years ago, and I managed to run a half-marathon in 1hr 28 min once, which is quite a respectable time I believe. I would not bet against me wearing those old Nike shoes then! So it was about time I got myself a new pair. I am determined to keep fit (not letting these become "Klassiker"), so I tested the new ones this morning, and they were wonderful. I was running on air, fluffy clouds, anything soft you can think of. Tomorrow will tell if I overdid it the first time in a long time, but so far so good! Here are the treasured beauties.

On The Right(eous) Way

Signposting is not always easy, and it never was. How did our ancestors find the way when they travelled long distances? They could follow a river or the coastline, aim for some hills or mountains or walk along a winding path. But if they travelled over land in particular, and they had many days or weeks ahead of them, how did they find the way? They would most likely be dependant on guides or people who pointed at an object on the horizon.

For the pilgrims of the past there were markers on the ground that led them on the right way, to the next cathedral or perhaps even to Santiago de Compostela.  Scallop shells on the ground would guide them, eventually all the way to, what is supposed to be, the relics of St. James. Still today you can find metal markers in the shape of a scallop shell in many European villages, towns and cities. This one I spotted in Liège, Belgium.

Summer Flowers with Granny

I just love the closeness and the friendship that this picture (old, salvaged slide) demonstrates between grandmother and grandson. They are out to pick some flowers in the meadow to decorate the summer house.

They are still close despite the 600 km that separate them today. She is now an almost 86-year-old lady and he is a proud father of two children himself. She takes a loving interest in him and his family and he keeps in contact much more often than duty demands. I am proud of both of them. They are my mother and my son.

Don't I Know These Ladies?

Duckhead says: They look familiar, I thought, as I spotted these two beauties in the window. Maybe they look too sophisticated, and they have no fags glued to their lips, but surely... or ...

I had just paused for a moment on my way up those 406 steps in Liège to get the view when I caught sight of these two women who looked strangely familiar. They reminded me of two Scottish ladies, acquaintances of mine, who write this wonderfully funny, quirky and interesting blog, Scottish Natterings.

It turned out that they were indeed relatives of 1st Lady and Lady Muck of Edinburgh. They invited me and Mrs D for, not tea, but strawberry beer and chips with mayo. They are after all Belgian; but since my French is only slightly better than my Flemish, the visit did not last very long. However they did ask me to send their love to 1st Lady and Lady Muck of Edinburgh.

Soft Focus

This week's picture is without a real focal point, so maybe it is misleading to use the word focus in the title. But if *you* focus on the soft texture in the foreground and then let your eye travel further and further away, it is like plowing through different layers of solidity/hardness, first the delicate, soft, plume-like grass, then the main field, which I believe is rape-seed after the yellow flowers have disappeared, and last the harder-textured, dark forest under a grey sky.

Or, if you don't like too many words to describe it, I could say that I simply like the muted colours and the calming effect the view has on me.

 

Child Danger in Düsseldorf

How often do you look down when you are on the tourist trail or just visiting a place for the first time, or indeed in your own neighbourhood? Most of the time we look ahead or possibly slightly up. We look at people, buildings and the sky, and only check occasionally where we put our feet. We don't very often look down unless we are botanists searching for some rare species or have a fear of stepping in dog faeces.

I have started looking at what is in front of my feet as well sometimes, and to my amazement there is quite a lot to discover in various cities. I have come across all sorts of ornamental metal objects like manhole covers, trail markers and remembrance plaques. I thought I would share those with my readers, and so far I have assembled a small collection, which I hope will keep growing with time.

My first piece of street art, if you like, is a manhole cover in Düsseldorf. It informs you that it is the capital city (of the German state of North Rhine-Westphalia) and also displays the coat of arms. What is puzzling is the fact that two children are doing a one-armed handstand on said coat of arms, or are they doing cartwheels? I don't know.

The more drastic interpretation is of course that it is meant to be a warning to children not to play in the street, otherwise they might end up flattened by a car or a bus! On a more serious note though, I think of the length they have gone to to make an entrance to the sewers rather attractive. What do you think?  

Are You Prejudiced?

    Duckhead says: Look at his menacing back! Would you dare ask him to move aside to get a better view? Scary tattoos and everything. Is he armed with some nasty bike chain, knuckle-dusters or knife? Will he headbutt you? Spit in your face? What might he have in common with the little boys on the bench paying close attention?

Don't worry. He must be as soft and sweet as spun sugar because he and all the others are at a flax market watching a demonstration how to comb and brake flax! What I was doing there? OK, I'm a bit soft too, but I did not stop to watch, honest!

 

Hello Grandson!

Last weekend I met my grandson for the first time. When we arrived, big sister was proud to show us "her baby" and pointed to where he was sleeping in his pram after having been for a walk earlier. He was just starting to wake up, so we simply followed the sound. It felt very special to be able to pick him up and comfort him the very first time I saw him. Him seemed happy to see me, because he stopped crying. That was one of those magic moments to remember.

It took some digging and rooting around in the pram to pick him up, since he was well wrapped up deep down there, as you can see in this picture out in the garden. He usually slept outside in the fresh air during the day, very healthy!

Indoors he sometimes sat in his baby sitter, i.e. if he was not being fed by mother or carried around over somebody's shoulder, which he liked the best. Big sister was very sisterly, and you could see that there was this natural bond between them. He was fascinated by her and there seemed to be some silent communication between them, the kind of which you often find between children without words, or indeed foreign words.

When Amanda was not busy with her little brother, she played with LEGO or her Pippi Longstocking jig-saw puzzle.

We were often outdoors; the adults could stretch their legs and tire out the children so we all slept well. Amanda was on her little pink (!) bike (see previous post) and I happily did my duty, pushing the pram everywhere we went, you know, the sort of thing a granddad does.

As you can see from the pictures, autumn is in an advanced state and winter is approaching fast, which means that the winter tyres have to come on, one of those dreaded annual tasks. In Sweden most people use the kind of winter tyres that have metal studs in them to get a good grip on ice. My son was very deft at it, did it methodically and even had white plastic bags to keep the stored tyres in. How's that for clean and tidy? He is my son after all!

My best memory is when little Hampus was fed, dry and comfortable, and he looked at me with a smile and made some guttural sounds that I am sure was his way of taking part in the conversation. Bliss!

Boy or Girl?

Before I tell you about the latest visit to Sweden to see my son and family, in particular my new grandson, which will be in a separate post, I want you to take a look at this photo.

My son and partner (they will eventually get round to getting married one day) always claim, and rightly so, that they do not want to treat a girl or boy differently, purely based on gender. Amanda has both dolls and toy cars, and she is particularly fascinated by tractors, diggers and other big machines. They also try to avoid pink clothes and toys, but despite all this effort I spotted this lot all pegged up last year. It is not easy being a conscientious parent. Will little brother's clothes line look the same, I wonder?

Time For Change

 

Congratulations to all US blogger friends!