Depending on how you read this, the word mothers could have significantly differing suggestions. Please apply the one that refers to your situation. Personally, I lost my mother years ago. She has not been found since.
Showing posts with label United States. Show all posts
Showing posts with label United States. Show all posts
Sunday, May 11, 2014
Happy Mother's Day
0 commentsDepending on how you read this, the word mothers could have significantly differing suggestions. Please apply the one that refers to your situation. Personally, I lost my mother years ago. She has not been found since.
Thursday, November 28, 2013
Happy Thanksgiving to All US Americans
0 commentsThis is for all US Americans regardless of where you live, Happy Thanksgiving. Our other American friends, the Canadians celebrated their Thanksgiving holiday in October.
If you need any last minute assistance, perhaps this will guide you along the way.
I will be preparing the pumpkin and apple desserts today for our holiday gathering tomorrow.
Here are a few history lessons regarding the holiday.
How FDR changed Thanksgiving.
Thanksgiving from the History Channel.
Thursday, January 10, 2013
From Tearful Good-Byes to Ruff Nights
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6:30 Dry landing – closed shoes, rocky trail, frigate birds expedition
8:00 Back on board
Breakfast
9:15 transfer out.
Last night, 6:30 am sounded so very early to leave, but I was up at 4:30 and could not fall asleep again. Ron got up because I set the alarm a half hour too early, so we were up before the crew. Some were dozing in the lounge. No coffee yet! Get to work and get the coffee brewing.
Another, but the last rocky trail to execute our balancing skills is the mornings off shore experience finale, before leaving for the airport. I realized that what makes these rocky trails especially difficult with a group is trying to plan your steps from one rock to another. Sometimes I have my next stepping stone all planned, but the person ahead of me decides to either stop for a photo or back-up. While I am in mid-stride, I have to do an immediate reconnoitering to decide where I am going to land. Sometimes the results are disastrous as I sail through the air like Dumbo without the gracefulness. For someone my size, I do have narrow feet for a man. The US American male average is a D width, but mine is a C, making them too slender to keep balance all that well. Thankfully, I never aspired to being a trapeze artist.
On the frigate bird expedition we learned the differences between the Great and Magnificent versions, the latter have a purple stripe on its back. They are not cross mating birds so they stick to their own kind. Birds of a feather frock together, but don’t tolerate mixed relationships. Fortune was with us to see a few of the males extend their usual floppy red pouches until they looked like they were having one of those party contests where you hold a balloon under your chin trying to pass it on to the next person. Females are attracted to the largest distended neck and choose their mate based on a size factor. Large chicks in training were all over the trees as well, gaining their courage and getting life coaching to take off on their own. Frigates have to capture their fish without landing on the water. Their feathers don’t have the oils needed to keep them water repellent, with a drowning result if they are not careful.
Blue footed boobies were on call also. I have to admit these are the only birds I was excited to see; they are my favorites. Their feet start out a dark greyish blue, but get more vibrant as they mature. BFB bodies are not much to brag about, so if they didn’t have the blue feet, they would probably not draw any near as much attention. We never did see the red footed booby, but we did have ample opportunity for the Naszca booby.
Breakfast was ready when we returned, our last one on board this boat with this group of people. Soon, we will all set off on our different ways, trying to keep in touch via e-mail or in some cases Facebook. As time goes by, it will be interesting to see who keeps in touch. We have had people we met years ago on safaris, come to stay with us at our B and B. Maybe we can meet for a European reunion.
With all of our luggage placed in the lounge, we each did our last minute tasks: filling out evaluation forms, saying good-bye to the staff, rechecking rooms for forgotten items, and getting shoes on for the last dinghy ride this trip. Our luggage went ahead of us, so it and the bus to the airport were waiting for us when we arrived. This was the challenging part saying good-bye to the few who were not flying on with us. Then it was cumbersome yet again at when we arrived in Quito wishing well those who were going onward to other places or to home.
Once again, I was totally impressed with the AeroGal flight. We went from Baltra to Guayaquil about a 2 hour flight, left passengers there and then continued on to Quito adding another 30-45 minutes. The service on the first leg included a cold, but lovely lunch. On the second segment, it was a drink service.
Our agency had arranged a pick-up at the airport, so there was no need for a taxi. Neither the driver nor the escort knows how to reach our hotel, our third one in Quito. It is called Colonial House because the building is 200 years old and protected by the historical society. When we did approach it, I was not amused by our choice. It seemed far away from most things and not a fabulous looking neighborhood. Yet, it did get rave reviews on TripAdvisor and HostelBookers.com.
We were greeted by Paco, the first time we had heard that name here. He is young, friendly, with excellent English skills, which seemed to disintegrate as the hours passed. We arrived at 4 pm. Our confirmation stated that we could check in any time after 6:30 am, unusually early, but what the heck. However, as Paco was giving us a tour, of the dining room, kitchen, computer room, game room, and outdoor garden with patio, he was also informing us that the people in our room would not be leaving until 9 pm. What?
Ron spent some time outside talking to a Canadian couple looking to move to Ecuador so they are doing the feasibility trip to check it out along with a month of Spanish lessons in another town. There was also a professor from Colorado who came and went during the conversation. Excusing myself, I headed to a table in the garden to check e-mail and start the uploading of blog posts. Once I had a handle on it, I joined the group conversation. Oh, yea! In the garden, the hostel has chickens, including a rooster, two ducks, and four rabbits.
Deciding it was long due for dinner, our Canadian friend suggested a local Italian restaurant to which we poo-pooed and said we wanted something local. Big mistake in this neighborhood. The local cooking is primarily street meet for street meat with Mama setting up her hibachi right outside her door while she cooks mystery meat on a stick. The end all was to go to a local Ecuadorian version of a fast food restaurant. I ordered the chicken combo, which was fine until they brought the soup. I spooned the broth, found something floating that was white as fresh snow, but had claws. There was a full and complete chicken foot in my soup. Waiter, there is something foul going on here.
Arriving back at the hotel by 8:00, we half expected to be able to check in when we returned, but this was not the case. We had to wait for the others to leave the room at 9 pm and then have it cleaned. They called it the ‘matrimonial’ room as it is the only one with a private bathroom, but a single bed. There are no words to describe the fumes that were emitting from my heat, but Ron found a comfy sofa and fell asleep.
On the top floor, they did assist with the luggage, but we were located right across from the television lounge which adjoins the 2nd community kitchen. The owner seemed a little embarrassed by the delay in our getting our room, so she showed me the lovely view out the window, if we stood on one leg, leaned to the right, held on so as not to fall, and look over the other buildings.
9:47 pm there is a dog barking in the street right under our window. There is another dog competing somewhere toward the back of the building. 11:59 pm the dogs have not stopped barking. Took a sleeping aid, but still nothing has kicked in. Finishing my book and then will try. This is the smallest double bed I have slept in. Not a happy camper.
Sunday, July 01, 2012
Happy Birthday, Ron!!
0 commentsToday is my partner Ron's birthday, but he is in Iowa visiting relatives. If you are not sure where Iowa is, just rest assured it is somewhere in that group of 48 contiguous states. The next time you are in the US, just look at an ear of corn in the grocery store. You will find a label marked "Grown in Iowa".
Anyway, I wished him a Happy Birthday via e-mail, but thought I would do a little more than that.
You share this birthday with a number of famous people like
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| Karen Black |
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| Andre Braugher - Men of a Certain Age |
Wednesday, March 07, 2012
For Your 411
0 commentsThe lives of ex-pats are far from peaches and cream. Two days ago, we received postcards from United Parcel Service stating they attempted to deliver to us, but could not find our name on the doorbell. Easy remedy, call and give them the name of our business which is on the doorbell. Problem solved.
What they had for us was our new Diners Club - MasterCard cards with...are you ready for this, a microchip. Now I am impressed since European and Asian credit cards have been using the chip for almost a decade now. We ran into a problem using our card in Malaysia once, because they only use the chipped cards, so they did not know how (or did not want) to use it the old-fashioned way, but swiping it or even more old-fashioned, call it in for approval.
The difference with this chip card is that you need to know your pin number each time the card is used in a chip terminal. Well, that is a hassle, remembering yet another code. Still, I am applauding one US company for getting on the band wagon of modernity. Now, I need to call in to confirm receipt of the card to activate it. On the letter and the card itself, it states for calls from outside of the US, call us collect at 1-514-877-1577.
I have mastered collect calling from Hungary. First I call AT&T at 06-8000-1112. A friendly automated female sing-songy voice states "AT&T", then a second sing-songy voice from an obvious second woman commands "Please enter the number you are calling...NOW!" Emphasis on now. I have often wondered why one woman didn't get both gigs to record the messages. Maybe one was the winner and the other a first runner up or understudy when woman 1 gets as sore throat. I entered 1-514-877-1577 after which the AT&T lady starts to get greedy with the prompt "Enter your calling card number and pin or your credit card number and 4 digit expiration date NOW!" You just have this sense she is ready to start working the cash register as you rack up a bill making this call. The trick here is not to touch the keypad of the phone. This moves you into the next prompt. "Please say calling card, credit card, operator, collect, NOW!" By this time, I am never sure whether I should salute at the NOW command or just do Heil Hitler.
Experience has taught me that if you say collect, you are setting yourself up for another go around of calls. Almost 100% of the credit card companies have robots answering their phones to is that sicking sweet voice sharing "Welcome to Diners Club! If this is an overseas operator, YESSSSSS, we will accept the call." Their yes makes them sound like you have been kidnapped and they have been waiting for the ransom call. The AT&& robot doesn't play nice with others, so instead of trying to communicate, it turns to you and says "It seems as if we have reached a machine. Please hang up and try your call again later." What a hypocrite coming from a machine.
I made my call using 1-514-877-1577, saying operator instead of collect. This is where the bait and switch is really evident. Until now, all the voices were like your Italian grandmother's welcoming you to the Sunday dinner. Once you get a real person, you can go one of two ways: the Wicked Witch of the West or your Fairy Godmother. My first attempt with this call was the witch.
Me- "Yes, operator this is a collect call, but it will be answered by a machine. I need you to stay on the line."
Witch - "I don't' handle collect calls to Canada." Click, she hangs up on me.
Me - Scratching my head, thinking Canada? What is she talking about? This is Diners Club US I am calling. Maybe I dialed it in wrong, so I call again.
Fairy Godmother - "I am sorry, but I cannot handle collect calls to Canada."
Me - "You mean that the 514 area code is Canadian? But it says right here on my card to call this number collect if you are outside of the US. I am outside and far away. They said on the literature with the card that I could call this number toll free from anywhere outside of the US. What do I do now?"
Fairy Godmother - "That may be, but I cannot do collect calls to Canada, only US numbers. You will have to have a Hungarian operator place the call for you."
Me - "Apparently AT&T has not heard about NAFTA. Thanks anyway. One last thing, do you know the number for a Hungarian operator?"
411 is the number for calling telephone information anywhere in the US. Now I have to hunt one down for Hungary. I asked 7 Hungarians how to reach an operator to make a collect call and not one could tell me.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Three Countries in 24 Hours
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All vacations have to come to an end. Some should end sooner than others. This vacation was just right. I was ready to return to Europe, not to say that I didn't appreciate all that we did or didn't do. We had to take a taxi to Belize City to the airport, another capital that has a high crime rate.
The check in process is fostered by electronic machines to print out boarding passes, though the airport is not tremendously large. What angered me once we brought our luggage to be checked was the fact that it would only be checked as far as Miami. We would have to pick it up, go through Customs and then recheck it. WHY?? The reasoning given was this was our first port of entry into the US, but what flummoxes me is that we did not need to do this going. Our luggage was checked through to Guatemala City.
American Airlines is on my Do Not Fly list unless absolutely necessary. The flight from Belize to Miami is a short couple of hours. Miami's airport is horridly huge and though we had 3 hours between flights, it took 138 minutes to get from one flight to the next leaving only28 minutes to shovel down a lunch before the next part of the journey when our boarding had started. The flight from Miami to Madrid was again one of those hideous planes with community theater experiences, not back of the seat view your own. We both skipped the movies because the sound quality was that of scratched record played on an antique record player. They don't even serve a drink of beer or booze without whipping out the credit card reader with charges that start at $6.00.
Turbulence was beyond the control of anyone but Mother Nature and she must have been having a bout of PMS. We shook, rattled, and rolled like an old television commercial for Shake and Bake chicken. Needless to say, if you are reading this, we made it to Madrid safely and early. Not that this was provident in our case, as check-in to our hotel was not until 2pm.
We left our suitcases, and sleep deprived, wandered the city that has now been stripped of any sign of Christmas cheer, but had a blanket of early morning fog and winter chill one never associates with Spain. By noon, the hotel felt sorry for us and opened the room early. After a cold shower as there was no hot water, we napped before returning to the hot chocolate and churro cafe. Dinner was at the mini sandwich shop we had discovered in December on our walking tour. Then it was an early night, for tomorrow, we will wander the streets again before our final flight to Budapest.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
No More Pana Mañana
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As hard as it may seem, this was an even greater kick back day than the others. What slugs we are becoming. Tomorrow, we leave for Guatemala City, so we need to get those pesky last minute things out of the way, like shopping, laundry, and getting money. Breakfast is included at the hotel, but the coffee is less than spectacular. Guatemalan coffee is supposed to be so excellent, but breakfast coffee tastes like Nescafé.
There is a coffee and pastry shop down the street that we have discovered. Their lattes and cappuccinos are excellent. Ron has taken a liking to their desserts, though I have to admit their cheesecake is pretty good. Ron had cake with his java; I refrained for once. Right near there is the bookstore where I found the 3rd book in the Steig Larrson series. I had only brought the first two at Ron’s advice due to their weight. The first book The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo was 624 pages, but I finished it in the first week. The second book The Girl Who Played With Fire ran a grandiose 728 pages and that was completed early today. Now I need to read through the third and last book filled with 824 pages. Quite a lot of words. Fortunately, the book is only 7.20 Euros, so I feel like I can buy a copy even if one is sitting at home. I have been giving books away as we read them so the load is lightened and makes space and weight reductions for buying things.
I did buy one other book, but took notes of titles from books that were just too heavy to consider. They are now on my Amazon Wish List for future reference. This store also had really divine photo frames; the outer edges were all hand woven by indigenous women. We found reasons to buy six of them. They are light.
Back to the hotel to drop off our spoils, we picked up our dirty laundry and set out the Laundromat. Dropping it off for a wash, dry and fold for over ten pounds will cost us 55 quetzals, 5.5 Euros. Can we take this woman home with us? It will be ready in 2 hours, so we take off again.
We quizzed an ex-pat from the US who now runs a second hand bookstore about which ATM machine was safe to use. He gave us a map and showed us one that is in a Mercado with the advice that the Mercado is owned by Walmart and no on screws with Walmart, not even the Colombians. That is where we head since our next stop is Guatemala City, which is supposedly dangerous on a daily basis just in general without using an ATM. On the way to the Mercado, we found the Women’s Free Trade Collective, a place where women can sell their craft work and receive all of the money they sell it for. It is called Thirteen Threads and was started by a woman from the US.
There were mats that I really liked, but the weight made me think “Airline Alert”, so I passed them by. A woman came rushing in as we were browsing and started through the same mats. Had I overcome my luggage limit phobia, there was one that I especially liked. This woman had it spread on the floor and then placed it on the counter. Darn her!! Turns out she is from California and is here to teach Yoga for 8 months. We chatted about the mats. I had in mind a Welcome mat, but she intends it to be a bath mat, another great idea. I never did get the chance to ask her how or why they needed to import her to teach Yoga for 8 months. Are Guatemalans so desperate to learn the downward facing dog or one-legged king pigeon that they had to import someone from California to twist and turn them? Ron bought some bookmarkers, but the airline scale phobia was as overwhelming as having a scale in our bathroom, so I let them go.
One last stop before the ATM was the hunt for a restaurant with a used bookstore inside run by a Canadian. We went up and down the street, but could not find it. What we did find was a concrete park with patches of wonderful flowering plants in small squares of non-cemented soil. Across the street was stand after stand selling fireworks of more sizes and varieties than I thought possible.
Finally, we made it the “ugly gray building that serves as a Mercado” just like the US American said and the ATM was a non-descript machine inside with an armed guard. Hoping that no one really does screw with Walmart, we withdraw the maximum of 2,000 quetzals. I hope to the smoking god that we don’t find our account cleaned out when we return home. Paranoid with having money, 200 Euros in our possession, we head back to the hotel to drop it off and then head out again.
There are no Hard Rock Cafés in Guatemala or Belize, but in Pana there is a PanaRock Café. They have a similar logo as their name sake, so it is kind of cute. We stopped in for a beer, but being extra thirsty, I ordered a liter. By the time we were done, I really wanted a nap more than I wanted to pick up our clothes at the laundry.
All of the time we have been here, in the room next to us has been 3 amigos. Initially, I hadn’t given the first guy a thought, but when I finally saw the other 2, I realized they were Friends of Dorothy or to put it other ways, they walked with a light step or they were part of the ‘family’. Although they responded when spoken to, they never initiated a greeting or engaged in any conversation when we would see them on the balcony. Two of them were Caucasian and one was definitely Hispanic looking. All three were speaking fluent English. Just like the people we met on the boat trip, we ran into these guys around the town quite often also. My guess is that they are in their 30’s so it was surprising how early they returned to the room and didn’t leave again. Their door squeaked terribly, so it was easy to keep tabs on them.
Our farewell dinner was at a steak house we had eaten at before, but we broke with tradition by ordering pizzas. We were both quite pleasantly surprised that the pizzas were excellent. The crust was wonderful. After dinner, we tried doing a little exercise stroll, but it was more like a roll. We both felt like balloons. Tomorrow, we are out of here on the 12 noon shuttle to Guatemala City. Pray for our safety!
There is a coffee and pastry shop down the street that we have discovered. Their lattes and cappuccinos are excellent. Ron has taken a liking to their desserts, though I have to admit their cheesecake is pretty good. Ron had cake with his java; I refrained for once. Right near there is the bookstore where I found the 3rd book in the Steig Larrson series. I had only brought the first two at Ron’s advice due to their weight. The first book The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo was 624 pages, but I finished it in the first week. The second book The Girl Who Played With Fire ran a grandiose 728 pages and that was completed early today. Now I need to read through the third and last book filled with 824 pages. Quite a lot of words. Fortunately, the book is only 7.20 Euros, so I feel like I can buy a copy even if one is sitting at home. I have been giving books away as we read them so the load is lightened and makes space and weight reductions for buying things.
I did buy one other book, but took notes of titles from books that were just too heavy to consider. They are now on my Amazon Wish List for future reference. This store also had really divine photo frames; the outer edges were all hand woven by indigenous women. We found reasons to buy six of them. They are light.
Back to the hotel to drop off our spoils, we picked up our dirty laundry and set out the Laundromat. Dropping it off for a wash, dry and fold for over ten pounds will cost us 55 quetzals, 5.5 Euros. Can we take this woman home with us? It will be ready in 2 hours, so we take off again.
We quizzed an ex-pat from the US who now runs a second hand bookstore about which ATM machine was safe to use. He gave us a map and showed us one that is in a Mercado with the advice that the Mercado is owned by Walmart and no on screws with Walmart, not even the Colombians. That is where we head since our next stop is Guatemala City, which is supposedly dangerous on a daily basis just in general without using an ATM. On the way to the Mercado, we found the Women’s Free Trade Collective, a place where women can sell their craft work and receive all of the money they sell it for. It is called Thirteen Threads and was started by a woman from the US.
There were mats that I really liked, but the weight made me think “Airline Alert”, so I passed them by. A woman came rushing in as we were browsing and started through the same mats. Had I overcome my luggage limit phobia, there was one that I especially liked. This woman had it spread on the floor and then placed it on the counter. Darn her!! Turns out she is from California and is here to teach Yoga for 8 months. We chatted about the mats. I had in mind a Welcome mat, but she intends it to be a bath mat, another great idea. I never did get the chance to ask her how or why they needed to import her to teach Yoga for 8 months. Are Guatemalans so desperate to learn the downward facing dog or one-legged king pigeon that they had to import someone from California to twist and turn them? Ron bought some bookmarkers, but the airline scale phobia was as overwhelming as having a scale in our bathroom, so I let them go.
One last stop before the ATM was the hunt for a restaurant with a used bookstore inside run by a Canadian. We went up and down the street, but could not find it. What we did find was a concrete park with patches of wonderful flowering plants in small squares of non-cemented soil. Across the street was stand after stand selling fireworks of more sizes and varieties than I thought possible.
Finally, we made it the “ugly gray building that serves as a Mercado” just like the US American said and the ATM was a non-descript machine inside with an armed guard. Hoping that no one really does screw with Walmart, we withdraw the maximum of 2,000 quetzals. I hope to the smoking god that we don’t find our account cleaned out when we return home. Paranoid with having money, 200 Euros in our possession, we head back to the hotel to drop it off and then head out again.
There are no Hard Rock Cafés in Guatemala or Belize, but in Pana there is a PanaRock Café. They have a similar logo as their name sake, so it is kind of cute. We stopped in for a beer, but being extra thirsty, I ordered a liter. By the time we were done, I really wanted a nap more than I wanted to pick up our clothes at the laundry.
All of the time we have been here, in the room next to us has been 3 amigos. Initially, I hadn’t given the first guy a thought, but when I finally saw the other 2, I realized they were Friends of Dorothy or to put it other ways, they walked with a light step or they were part of the ‘family’. Although they responded when spoken to, they never initiated a greeting or engaged in any conversation when we would see them on the balcony. Two of them were Caucasian and one was definitely Hispanic looking. All three were speaking fluent English. Just like the people we met on the boat trip, we ran into these guys around the town quite often also. My guess is that they are in their 30’s so it was surprising how early they returned to the room and didn’t leave again. Their door squeaked terribly, so it was easy to keep tabs on them.
Our farewell dinner was at a steak house we had eaten at before, but we broke with tradition by ordering pizzas. We were both quite pleasantly surprised that the pizzas were excellent. The crust was wonderful. After dinner, we tried doing a little exercise stroll, but it was more like a roll. We both felt like balloons. Tomorrow, we are out of here on the 12 noon shuttle to Guatemala City. Pray for our safety!
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
American Airlines - 2 Thumbs Down
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After three poor nights of sleeping due to noise, we are moving onward. The circles under my eyes looked like hillside tiered gardening. If there were a inevitable harvest, I wouldn’t mind, but it is ruining the last of the good looks that I am desperately trying to hold on to. Getting to the airport was a snap. The metro station is almost outside our hotel door and under it is the station for the train. One train ride for one stop and then on to the metro connection and we are at the airport within twenty minutes.
American Airlines has a self-check in process in Madrid Airport. We could have printed our boarding passes at the hotel if they had a printer we could use, but there are also machines in the airport to do it for you. You punch in the reservation number, scan your passport, put in the number of pieces of luggage you intend to take and then gasp in all of the O2 when you see the additional cost if you have 2 pieces. One piece is free; a second is an additional hefty charge. Carry-on is limited to one piece, but the instructions are unclear whether this means in addition to a purse or briefcase or if this is the one piece. With boarding passes in hand, all we had to do was drop off our luggage at the designated drop off desk. It seemed like a simple task, but it turned out to be lengthy, making us miss any chance of using the Diners Club lounge.
Before shedding ourselves of the luggage, we had to go through a series of security questions, but the woman would not allow both of us to be there at once. Only family members are allowed to be joined at the hip. I corrected her and after a moment’s hesitation, she proceeded. Spain allows same sex marriage and all the rights therewith, so why should we be excluded? The list of questions was the usual, “Who owns these suitcases?; Who packed them?; “Has anyone given you any gifts?”, but the differences were she genuinely seemed interested in the answers.
Once she put our clearance stickers on the bags, we had to drop them off at the counter. Although this was supposed to be a drop off only, the line was slow and tedious, because people are arguing over what they intend to check and what is a carry-on. It took us over thirty minutes after we had already printed out our boarding passes. Then we were told we had to be at the gate 1 hour before boarding or they would unload our luggage, plus there was a warning that the travel time to the gate from where we were standing was thirty minutes away.
It took moving escalators, moving sidewalks, elevators, and an airport sky train to get close to our gate; the balance of the distance was old-fashioned walking. When we were in the gate area, there was a lounge nearby, but they were not the Diners Club lounge. We were informed there was another lounge upstairs, but she wasn’t certain who they catered to. Being paranoid about time, we went to our gate.
The flight from Madrid to Miami is 9 hours and 40 minutes. One would think that in this day and age, a modern plane would be flying this route. It wasn’t. We were held up when the back-up generator failed. They had to complete the paperwork, but there wasn’t a word about fixing it on this old 767 equipped with a single row of monitors running down the center row of seats. Passengers not only did not receive any choices in entertainment for this long flight, but those who were stuck on the sides had to stretch their necks to view the videos. Although we had center seats, I skipped over the poor choices of entertainment and read my book instead. When drink service started, they announced that beer and wine would be available for $6.00. After hearing that, I tuned out on the cost of liquor. It was incomprehensible that a major airline would charge for the first drink on an international flight when one considers the cost of the ticket. Meal service was typical airline meals, but they service of the staff was excellent. The steward who gave me my meal asked if I wanted a bottle of wine gratis. I was not sure why, but I seem to think it was because I wanted chicken, but they only had pasta left.
Going through Miami was another nightmare. We were transiting through, but still had to go through Passport Control and Customs. Why are we wasting resources on that when we were already in a secured zone? This took up a good 45 minutes of the 2 1/2 hours we had to spare between flights. Then we had to do the security thing all over again. They wanted to put me in that XRay machine where there is a see all-tell all view of your nakedness. I don’t even like seeing my naked body; I am certainly not going to parade it for strangers in Miami. Well, what a hullabaloo that was. I had to stand aside and wait for someone to be available to give me an hand examination. I waited so long, I felt like it was punishment for not getting the photo shoot done and over with. Ron went the same route, but his exam was faster. Not having been to the US since January 2003, it really irked me to have to deal with all of this. I had hoped that being a transit passenger, we could just slip by unnoticed and unharassed.
American was the airline from Miami to Guatemala City. People were jamming with their carry-on luggage. How they managed to get as far as the boarding gate without being stopped by someone, is beyond me. There were full sized suitcases that would not have fit in an overhead bin during the most generous days of flying. Airline personnel were waiting at the gate, and stripping these people of their luggage and handing them an ID tag to pick it up in the luggage area when we arrived. This may have been smart, because I am not certain how the airline could then charge them for excess luggage once they made it to the door of the plane.
Flying time is 2 hours and 40 minutes. They had video monitors on this plane too and video service. If you wanted to watch the television shows they played, it would cost you $2 for earphones. If you had your own, they still wanted the $2. If you want anything other than soda, coffee or tea, there is a charge. One guy behind us ordered a couple of scotches. $26. The person on the other side of the aisle got some potato chips in a can. $3.29. If I were the flight attendants, I would be humiliated to ask for the money.
We arrived in Guatemala City, but we are staying in Antigua. Ron had arranged a taxi to meet us. Sure enough, there was a guy with a sign, which I pointed out to Ron. After we drove for an hour, I had this horrible thought. Having been traveling at that point for 26 hours, I was not certain I had read the driver’s sign correctly. I did see Ron Sc, but you know those visual tricks where your mind fills in what you think should follow. There was never a word spoken with the driver, making me hope for the best. Fortunately, we did arrive in Antigua after 1 ½ hours and he did drop us off where we had reservations. Time for a long winter’s nap or at least until 10am tomorrow.
American Airlines has a self-check in process in Madrid Airport. We could have printed our boarding passes at the hotel if they had a printer we could use, but there are also machines in the airport to do it for you. You punch in the reservation number, scan your passport, put in the number of pieces of luggage you intend to take and then gasp in all of the O2 when you see the additional cost if you have 2 pieces. One piece is free; a second is an additional hefty charge. Carry-on is limited to one piece, but the instructions are unclear whether this means in addition to a purse or briefcase or if this is the one piece. With boarding passes in hand, all we had to do was drop off our luggage at the designated drop off desk. It seemed like a simple task, but it turned out to be lengthy, making us miss any chance of using the Diners Club lounge.
Before shedding ourselves of the luggage, we had to go through a series of security questions, but the woman would not allow both of us to be there at once. Only family members are allowed to be joined at the hip. I corrected her and after a moment’s hesitation, she proceeded. Spain allows same sex marriage and all the rights therewith, so why should we be excluded? The list of questions was the usual, “Who owns these suitcases?; Who packed them?; “Has anyone given you any gifts?”, but the differences were she genuinely seemed interested in the answers.
Once she put our clearance stickers on the bags, we had to drop them off at the counter. Although this was supposed to be a drop off only, the line was slow and tedious, because people are arguing over what they intend to check and what is a carry-on. It took us over thirty minutes after we had already printed out our boarding passes. Then we were told we had to be at the gate 1 hour before boarding or they would unload our luggage, plus there was a warning that the travel time to the gate from where we were standing was thirty minutes away.
It took moving escalators, moving sidewalks, elevators, and an airport sky train to get close to our gate; the balance of the distance was old-fashioned walking. When we were in the gate area, there was a lounge nearby, but they were not the Diners Club lounge. We were informed there was another lounge upstairs, but she wasn’t certain who they catered to. Being paranoid about time, we went to our gate.
The flight from Madrid to Miami is 9 hours and 40 minutes. One would think that in this day and age, a modern plane would be flying this route. It wasn’t. We were held up when the back-up generator failed. They had to complete the paperwork, but there wasn’t a word about fixing it on this old 767 equipped with a single row of monitors running down the center row of seats. Passengers not only did not receive any choices in entertainment for this long flight, but those who were stuck on the sides had to stretch their necks to view the videos. Although we had center seats, I skipped over the poor choices of entertainment and read my book instead. When drink service started, they announced that beer and wine would be available for $6.00. After hearing that, I tuned out on the cost of liquor. It was incomprehensible that a major airline would charge for the first drink on an international flight when one considers the cost of the ticket. Meal service was typical airline meals, but they service of the staff was excellent. The steward who gave me my meal asked if I wanted a bottle of wine gratis. I was not sure why, but I seem to think it was because I wanted chicken, but they only had pasta left.
Going through Miami was another nightmare. We were transiting through, but still had to go through Passport Control and Customs. Why are we wasting resources on that when we were already in a secured zone? This took up a good 45 minutes of the 2 1/2 hours we had to spare between flights. Then we had to do the security thing all over again. They wanted to put me in that XRay machine where there is a see all-tell all view of your nakedness. I don’t even like seeing my naked body; I am certainly not going to parade it for strangers in Miami. Well, what a hullabaloo that was. I had to stand aside and wait for someone to be available to give me an hand examination. I waited so long, I felt like it was punishment for not getting the photo shoot done and over with. Ron went the same route, but his exam was faster. Not having been to the US since January 2003, it really irked me to have to deal with all of this. I had hoped that being a transit passenger, we could just slip by unnoticed and unharassed.
American was the airline from Miami to Guatemala City. People were jamming with their carry-on luggage. How they managed to get as far as the boarding gate without being stopped by someone, is beyond me. There were full sized suitcases that would not have fit in an overhead bin during the most generous days of flying. Airline personnel were waiting at the gate, and stripping these people of their luggage and handing them an ID tag to pick it up in the luggage area when we arrived. This may have been smart, because I am not certain how the airline could then charge them for excess luggage once they made it to the door of the plane.
Flying time is 2 hours and 40 minutes. They had video monitors on this plane too and video service. If you wanted to watch the television shows they played, it would cost you $2 for earphones. If you had your own, they still wanted the $2. If you want anything other than soda, coffee or tea, there is a charge. One guy behind us ordered a couple of scotches. $26. The person on the other side of the aisle got some potato chips in a can. $3.29. If I were the flight attendants, I would be humiliated to ask for the money.
We arrived in Guatemala City, but we are staying in Antigua. Ron had arranged a taxi to meet us. Sure enough, there was a guy with a sign, which I pointed out to Ron. After we drove for an hour, I had this horrible thought. Having been traveling at that point for 26 hours, I was not certain I had read the driver’s sign correctly. I did see Ron Sc, but you know those visual tricks where your mind fills in what you think should follow. There was never a word spoken with the driver, making me hope for the best. Fortunately, we did arrive in Antigua after 1 ½ hours and he did drop us off where we had reservations. Time for a long winter’s nap or at least until 10am tomorrow.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Thursday is for Turkey
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Tomorrow is thanksgiving! It is the traditional day for Americans to give thanks for all the bounty within their lives. As children we learn and they still persevere with the tales of the Pilgrims and the Native Americans sitting down to a feast in thanks for the sharing of knowledge. I hate to be the one to break it to you, but it is mostly a lie. I didn't learn this myself until I came across the book Lies My Teacher Told Me: Everything Your American History Textbook Got Wrong by James W. Loewen. After that eye-opener, I continued reading other accounts that put my political correctness into better perspective. Native Americans got the short end from the beginning.
Speaking of Thanksgiving myths that were not unraveled until later in my life, there are other things that are kind of embarrassing, but heck, I will share. I was probably about twenty-five years old before I realized that Thanksgiving didn't start with antipasto, followed by either a pasta e fagioli or a chicken soup with tiny meatballs with homemade pasta shells floating around. It never occurred to me that these didn't precede the turkey, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, stuffing, green beans, and the lasagne, manicotti, or other pasta dish for everyone's 'traditional' holiday dinner. These were after all staples for Easter, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's (add baccalà for this holiday; it is dried fish that brings good luck for the NY). This was the typical celebratory meal for weddings, christenings, earning an A on your report card, the disappearance of your cold
sore, a happy meal for getting the lawn mowed, and so
on. However, the end of the Thanksgiving meal was not complete without the homemade pies made of pumpkin, apple, mincemeat, and pecan or ricotta cheese joined by an assortment of an early appearance of homemade Christmas cookies. Added to this foreign assortment, with foreign meaning American recipes, there had to be struffala. Struffala is an Italian cookie made into little balls, piled high and then drenched with honey and colored sprinkles. Is it a wonder I battle my weight?
Having led a sheltered life, there was never an opportunity to have a holiday meal outside the confines of less than two dozen Italians and that was only immediate family. When I was really young, this approached five dozen. My grandmother was one of twelve kids, so the entire family joined in as one. It took close to an hour just filling your plates, plural, with all of the foods the aunts and my grandmother would prepare. My family decided at one point that they needed to let me loose into the outer world during one holiday, so I could get a taste of the harsh reality of life. I learned the cruel facts the hard way; I suffered from culture shock in my own country. When I went to a friend's family for Thanksgiving dinner, the sparse table was only inhabited by a turkey, dressing, gravy, mashed potatoes, sweet potato casserole, stuffed mushrooms, green beans, cauliflower, dinner rolls, cranberry sauce. My first thoughts were fear of deprivation followed by streaming thoughts of a starvation sequence. It didn't take a full blooded Neapolitan to figure out that this was just wrong. How do these people survive like this?
From this time onward, at every holiday, I take a private moment for a minute of silence not only in appreciation for my Italian heritage, but also for the despair of those who have no clue what they are missing.
Sunday, October 23, 2011
A Little US History
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Our friend Jennifer posted this picture on her Facebook page for which I and at the time one other person had applauded her for doing. However, shortly thereafter, the rants started streaming in. I have not been back to check, but the last posts I did read did not include great critical thinking. I mean come on, what educated person points to Wikipedia as the end all source of information when there are so many other authoritative sites to visit.
We all learn erroneous history for any number of reasons. If you are curious, just use Lies My Teacher Told Me to jump start your investigations. Notice I said jump start, but not end all.
This is what Jennifer posted, but below it I did some of the homework for you.
In God We Trust:
The motto IN GOD WE TRUST was placed on United States coins largely because of the increased religious sentiment existing during the Civil War. Secretary of the Treasury Salmon P. Chase received many appeals from devout persons throughout the country, urging that the United States recognize the Deity on United States coins….
…t was found that the Act of Congress dated January 18, 1837, prescribed the mottoes and devices that should be placed upon the coins of the United States. This meant that the mint could make no changes without the enactment of additional legislation by the Congress. Read more on the US Treasury website here.
US issued paper currency and In God We Trust:
1861 - On the brink of bankruptcy and pressed to finance the Civil War, Congress authorized the United States Treasury to issue paper money for the first time in the form of non-interest bearing Treasury Notes call Demand Notes.
1865 - Gold Certificates were issued by the Department of the Treasury against gold coin and bullion deposits and were circulated until 1933.
1861 - On the brink of bankruptcy and pressed to finance the Civil War, Congress authorized the United States Treasury to issue paper money for the first time in the form of non-interest bearing Treasury Notes call Demand Notes.
1865 - Gold Certificates were issued by the Department of the Treasury against gold coin and bullion deposits and were circulated until 1933.
A law passed by the 84th Congress (P.L. 84-140) and approved by the
President on July 30, 1956, the President approved a Joint Resolution of
the 84th Congress, declaring IN GOD WE TRUST the national motto of the
United States. IN GOD WE TRUST was first used on paper money in 1957,
when it appeared on the one-dollar silver certificate. The first paper
currency bearing the motto entered circulation on October 1, 1957. For more money fun facts, click here.
Religion in the original Constitution:
Religion makes only one direct and obvious appearance in the original Constitution that seems to point to a desire for some degree of religious freedom. That appearance is in Article 6, at the end of the third clause:
[N]o religious Test shall ever be required as a Qualification to any Office or public Trust under the United States.
This statement is simple and straight-forward, and applies to all offices in the entire United States, both state and federal. The clause simply means that no public position can be required to be held by any one of any religious denomination. It would be unconstitutional for there to be a requirement that the President by Lutheran, or even for the mayor of a small town to be Christian. Likewise, it would be unconstitutional for a law to forbid a Jew or Muslim from holding any office in any governmental jurisdiction in the United States. (This having been said, it should be noted that several state constitutions do have a religious test — specifically, they deny office to anyone unwilling to acknowledge God or a Supreme Being.) Visit the source here.
E Pluribus Unum:
"E Pluribus Unum" was the motto proposed for the first Great Seal of the United States by John Adams, Benjamin Franklin, and Thomas Jefferson in 1776. A Latin phrase meaning "One from many," the phrase offered a strong statement of the American determination to form a single nation from a collection of states. Over the years, "E Pluribus Unum" has also served as a reminder of America's bold attempt to make one unified nation of people from many different backgrounds and beliefs. The challenge of seeking unity while respecting diversity has played a critical role in shaping our history, our literature, and our national character. Click here for more.
Pledge of Allegiance:
The Pledge of Allegiance was written in August 1892 by the socialist minister Francis Bellamy (1855-1931). It was originally published in The Youth's Companion on September 8, 1892. Bellamy had hoped that the pledge would be used by citizens in any country.
In its original form it read:
"I pledge allegiance to my Flag and the Republic for which it stands, one nation, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all."
In 1923, the words, "the Flag of the United States of America" were added. At this time it read:
"I pledge allegiance to the Flag of the United States of America and to the Republic for which it stands, one nation, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all."
In 1954, in response to the Communist threat of the times, President Eisenhower encouraged Congress to add the words "under God," creating the 31-word pledge we say today. Bellamy's daughter objected to this alteration. Today it reads:
"I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, and to the republic for which it stands, one nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all."
To catch up on the history you missed, click here to find out more.
Class dismissed.
Friday, March 25, 2011
It's About Time Hungary Caught Up
0 commentsAfter living here in Hungary for almost ten years now, my credit card numbers have been stolen 9 times. Let me repeat that. The credit card numbers have been stolen 9 times. However, all 9 times, they have been 'borrowed' within the borders of the United States. Take notice: I have not set foot on U.S. soil since January 2003. Were these hints that I have been missed. "Wish you were here so we could do worse to you."
In addition to my identity theft through plastic, someone had the audacity to forge one of our California B of A checks, not an original, but a copy. They made it out for $2,000, signed Ron's name, but not even closely resembling Ron's signature, and then they cashed it at a B of A in Georgia. The bank cashing the check never asked for ID it turns out, but B of A took 3 months for their 'investigation' before returning our money.
Never, ever, ever have we had problems outside of the U.S. until yesterday. Ron tried logging into our Citibank account here in Budapest to pay bills. He could not access the system. After multiple tries, he called the bank. They verbally pummeled him with security questions. What is your account number? How many names on the account? What is your mother's paternal grandmother's middle name? What was your foot size at birth? How many words could you speak by the age of 4 years old?
When I came home and looked at him, I had thought he had been mugged by feral animals without claws. All of that talking drained him of his strength. He needed to be recharged. It turned out that his ATM card number was stolen. The ATM card that he has only used 4 times in 9+ years and it was stolen. When they asked if he withdrew 2 million Huf, I choked and laughed. If we had that kind of money, we would be on vacation right now.
It looks like Hungary may just be starting to catch up with the U.S. on these types of fraud. Just like Hungary to be late for everything.
Friday, March 04, 2011
Big Love
0 commentsWe have finally caught up with those in the US, being able to watch the HBO show Big Love. For those not familiar with it, the story revolves a Mormon family who live the principle of Joseph Smith. That principle being polygamy. Hence Bill Henrickson is living in marital bliss or not, with his three wives. Since everyone knows, including the Mormon dominated folks in Sandy, Utah where the show supposedly takes place, polygamy was banned in order for Utah to join the United States.
Bill's ladies live in three houses next to each other; the houses look perfectly normal from the street. However, their backyards are one contiguous piece of acreage where they traipse back and forth continually to either share their meals, thoughts on a topic, or just share Bill.
Coming to this HBO banquet late, this being the fifth and final season, we were watching two or three episodes a night. Strangely, when I watch as many vampire shows, there is no end result. Yet, each time we chowed down on Big Love, I had big not so lovely nightmares. It would be embarrassing to share how many nights I wanted to wake screaming because some church leader was forcing me to marry, marry a woman, you see. It didn't need to be a multiple marriage, one was enough. I tried clawing my way out of Sandy, Utah, but they were gathered around me like Rosemary's Baby.
One would think that when one is ill and is using the facilities upwards of fourteen times in a night and blowing the nose with triple the frequency, the cycle of the dream would stop and desist. No, it was not about to happen. I must have popped a vessel in my nose, because at one point, my nose started to bleed when I blew it. God only knows how, I could have any fluid to run out. With all of the bodily fluids I have deposited, one would think all I could produce from my nose would be dust bunnies. Though, I was awake, not dreaming, so I was concerned that the blood was pink and not red. This had to be a sign from a higher power. Even my blood runs pink. If these nightmares continue, I may just start bleeding in rainbow colors.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Going for the Green
0 commentsThinking ahead, there have never been any redeeming factors for having a Malev’s frequent flier program membership. In the past, they always seemed to either lose my points or mysteriously disappear after three months without warning or explanation; however, Ron's remained intact most of the time. To question them, I always had to visit their office to adjust it in person. Too much hassle. One quick Google search showed Malev as now being a member of the One World Alliance. Opps! We don’t have any memberships with any of those airlines. Best options were American or British Airlines. American seemed the most logical, but we have not flown either for over fifteen years. With a couple of keystrokes, we each were instantly American Airlines members with virtual cards. A quick screenshot of them pasting them into a document, I had them printed out for an airport presentation. This flight is 3 hours, over 1,ooo miles, a trip too good to miss out on miles.
There was not a single empty seat on the plane, meaning Ron and I had to sit in different aisles. Initially, we were two rows apart. I would have shared my row with two youngsters until they mother asked me to change seats. That put me one row ahead of Ron, a wee bit closer, not ht that we had any conversation stored for the flight. Good thing too. There were over twenty unaccompanied children or twenty-some little people on their way to an International Little People convention, we were never quite sure of their category. Regardless of their status, the little munchkins were on their way to the Emerald Isle. Even at baggage claim in Dublin there was no supervising adult hovering over these children with worried looks. There was no news of any orphanages in Hungary reporting a great escape. I wanted to give them my number in case they did find Oz. I would pay for their map and directions. I guess we should have hopped on their shuttle marked Yellow Brick Road Express, but we were too busy looking for our provided ride by Irish Rail.
Our escort was supposed to be wearing a bright yellow jacket. As we left Passport Control and then Customs, there was a small mob of anxious people waiting for loved ones or those they were commissioned to temporarily love and transport for a short time. Those looking for strangers had signs announcing who they were there to retrieve. No one had our names. There was a grandpa looking man with a yellow rain jacket, but he was busy speaking to a young woman, who we presumed was his arriving daughter. His hands were to his sides, one with a briefcase.
Calling IrishRail was useless. They close at 5:00 pm. We walked back and forth and forth and back, but no one bore our name on any sign or signal to alert our attention. Elder man never left, though his young female companion had dismissed him minutes earlier. We finally approached him asking if he were from IrishRail. At this he turned around and showed us the logo on the back of his jacket; like this was intuitive for us to check him out front and back. There was no indication on the front of the jacket. Later when he gave us our documents, I noticed a sign with our names on it that never made it out of his briefcase. He claimed he thought the jacket would be enough. Hey Charlie! News flash…it does not work.
Charlie is how we referred to him; we never did catch his name, but he could not remember ours either. He was to transport us to our hotel. Transport was public bus with tickets provided by IrishRail, but due to our late arrival, the bus we needed had its last run for the night. An alternate bus did not accept our tickets, only took us part of the way, but then we had to take a tram the rest of the ride, purchasing our own tram tickets. We did not arrive at the hotel until close to 11:00 pm. Charlie kind of hinted we should join him at the pub near the hotel when I had asked about pubs being open. That was hours earlier it seemed and my interest had waned significantly.
IrishRail booked us into the Ashling Hotel for two nights. As it turned out it was a Best Western, better than any I have remembered in the past and the service was exceptional. To celebrate Ireland, we had a pint in the lounge, deciding for forfeit dinner. Malev only provided a sandwich as a meal, but we were too tired by this point to hunt out places. Pubs would be closing soon, making pub food scarce.
There was not a single empty seat on the plane, meaning Ron and I had to sit in different aisles. Initially, we were two rows apart. I would have shared my row with two youngsters until they mother asked me to change seats. That put me one row ahead of Ron, a wee bit closer, not ht that we had any conversation stored for the flight. Good thing too. There were over twenty unaccompanied children or twenty-some little people on their way to an International Little People convention, we were never quite sure of their category. Regardless of their status, the little munchkins were on their way to the Emerald Isle. Even at baggage claim in Dublin there was no supervising adult hovering over these children with worried looks. There was no news of any orphanages in Hungary reporting a great escape. I wanted to give them my number in case they did find Oz. I would pay for their map and directions. I guess we should have hopped on their shuttle marked Yellow Brick Road Express, but we were too busy looking for our provided ride by Irish Rail.
Our escort was supposed to be wearing a bright yellow jacket. As we left Passport Control and then Customs, there was a small mob of anxious people waiting for loved ones or those they were commissioned to temporarily love and transport for a short time. Those looking for strangers had signs announcing who they were there to retrieve. No one had our names. There was a grandpa looking man with a yellow rain jacket, but he was busy speaking to a young woman, who we presumed was his arriving daughter. His hands were to his sides, one with a briefcase.
Calling IrishRail was useless. They close at 5:00 pm. We walked back and forth and forth and back, but no one bore our name on any sign or signal to alert our attention. Elder man never left, though his young female companion had dismissed him minutes earlier. We finally approached him asking if he were from IrishRail. At this he turned around and showed us the logo on the back of his jacket; like this was intuitive for us to check him out front and back. There was no indication on the front of the jacket. Later when he gave us our documents, I noticed a sign with our names on it that never made it out of his briefcase. He claimed he thought the jacket would be enough. Hey Charlie! News flash…it does not work.
Charlie is how we referred to him; we never did catch his name, but he could not remember ours either. He was to transport us to our hotel. Transport was public bus with tickets provided by IrishRail, but due to our late arrival, the bus we needed had its last run for the night. An alternate bus did not accept our tickets, only took us part of the way, but then we had to take a tram the rest of the ride, purchasing our own tram tickets. We did not arrive at the hotel until close to 11:00 pm. Charlie kind of hinted we should join him at the pub near the hotel when I had asked about pubs being open. That was hours earlier it seemed and my interest had waned significantly.
IrishRail booked us into the Ashling Hotel for two nights. As it turned out it was a Best Western, better than any I have remembered in the past and the service was exceptional. To celebrate Ireland, we had a pint in the lounge, deciding for forfeit dinner. Malev only provided a sandwich as a meal, but we were too tired by this point to hunt out places. Pubs would be closing soon, making pub food scarce.
Friday, July 02, 2010
These Rules Are Not Meant to Be Broken
0 commentsThe old adage "Rules are meant to be broken" should not apply to major corporations, especially the airlines. They are making aviation history with the nickel and dime charges they seemingly conjure up on the spot when you are standing before them to check in. Before you ever set foot on a plane, you should be armed with information you may need to demand your rights.
US airlines now have some laws to protect you, the consumer. Will they share that information with you? Hardly. Caveat emptor is Latin for "Let the buyer beware." and this is especially true when airlines are falling from the sky due to their antiquated business models not changing with the times, causing operating costs to be rocketing out of control. Christopher Elliott wrote this article in 2008, but he is still referencing it himself, so I am thinking it is still valid. Another source is Independent Traveler.com where they have an article posted on US Passenger Rights.
Any flights going to or from the European Union, EVEN those that start outside of the EU such as those from the US, they are covered by EU law 261. Click here to get a full easy to understand explanation of Q & A of the law.
If fifteen pages is too comprehensive for you, know that ALL airlines servicing the EU are mandated to have copies of passenger rights at the check-counters. Many times they will claim they don't or are not required to, but they are. I demanded our rights in Prague when we missed a flight. Although I had to stand up to the airline people, we were booked on the next available flight which was not until the next morning, but our hotel, transporation and dinner was paid for by the airline.
It always surprises me how many of our guests, mostly Americans, have not fought for their rights when they were aware of them ahead of time.
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