A Moment of Silence

And now, we call for a moment of silence for Mary Ann's Canon PowerShot S400. Yes, we all remember that moment fondly, when the Digital Elph became Mary Ann's new toy more than three years ago. She took photos of lovely sunsets, took self-aimed shots of herself and Mom, took pictures of Dad speaking and of Daniel smelling his own hairy armpit. (Just as examples.)
We reflect fonldy on D. Elph's persistence in producing high quality photos for a full year and a half after his view finder so tragically met an untimely end, imediately before taking a picture of Sabrina and Helmut on the latter's awesome motorcycle in May 2005. And now, we look at the last photographs taken, shortly after D. Elph took an unfortunate tumble from Mary Ann's backpack near the peak of the Stockhorn. Is that photo of a stunning peak reflected in a clear, alpine lake blurred due to Mary Ann's over emotional response? Is the other picture, where Mary Ann poses next to a used sink, toilet bowl, and toilet brush and a sign that says "gratis" (free) blurred because her friend Irene is laughing too hard to take a proper shot?
No, alas. The camera has croaked. It groans every time one presses the "on" button. With every use of the zoom function, new noises appear, unprecedented in D. Elph's tragically truncated existence.
Sigh.
Thank you for your respectful consideration of D. Elph's passing away. In leu of flowers, D. Elph's most immediate family requests that donations be made to the Don't-Let-the-Second-Two-Thirds-of-Mary-Ann's-Switzerland-Year-Remain-Undocumented Fund. Checks may be sent to the foundation's US headquarters in Sugarcreek, or by direct deposit to a certain Swiss bank account.

The Column

Just for fun, I’ve decided to post my newspaper column from this week online. When Julianne visited me, we ended up in Zermatt, and I felt the need to give about 10,000 people the details. Yes, I somehow began writing a weekly column for The Budget in September, which is possibly the most unique newspaper on the planet. Just think, you could subscribe and read my column, with a bonus of all the news that the 2,000 residents of Sugarcreek, Ohio can produce! The police log (“We found a stray dog and received a complaint about a speeding motorist…”) is my favorite. You can also get detailed reports from Amish communities across the US and Canada in the letters section. “The weather is cloudy, we’re canning peaches again, J.R. Yoder’s and M.S. Troyer’s visited this forenoon.” etc.

Just send a check for $42 ($48, if you’re outside Ohio), with a note that says, “I hear that Mary Ann’s column, Vantage Points, is stunningly brilliant. Please allow me to subscribe to your newspaper!” (The Budget, P.O. Box 249, Sugarcreek, OH 44681, www.thebudgetnewspaper.com)

Vantage Points

At the Foot of the Matterhorn

Editor's note: I decided that the column was acutually far too long and wordy to hog space on this blog. So, I deleted the first half, and leave you with a sample.

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Another hour later, our train pulled into the car-free town of Zermatt. Hundreds of tourists walked through the streets, while electric carts moved luggage and people to hotels. Occasionally, a horse-drawn carriage plodded by, taking its stylish passengers to the fanciest hotels. Zermatt is so cute, you wonder whether Walt Disney designed the wooden houses with window boxes overflowing with red geraniums.

After turning a bend in the street, we could finally see the Matterhorn. Its bare rock rose behind the smaller mountains softened by evergreens. We eyed the cable cars, but decided we would hike up the hillside. Tiny, wooden huts dotted the hillside as we slowly left Zermatt behind.

By the time we reached the second cable car station, two sweat marks on my shirt clearly showed where my backpack straps had been. Cable car after cable car swung past us, whisking tourists up the mountainside.

“This isn’t really cheating. We’ll hike back down, right?” Our decision adequately justified, we watched the valley zip by through the glass of our cable car. We exited at a restaurant that would serve hot chocolate and soup to skiers and snow boarders in a few months.

After soaking up a closer view of the Matterhorn, we began to hike toward Zermatt, whose buildings now looked like tiny specks in the distant valley. From this height, the simple mountain huts and the hotels charging $500 per night looked identical.

Just as we neared the cable car station again, the sound of singing drifted up our path. At a small café, a group of Swiss people were raising their glasses to someone and singing. Then one of them started yodeling.

Before I go any further, let me explain that yodeling is a sensitive topic for me. If I write about this, will people think that the Swiss do nothing but walk around in suspenders or frilly dresses while playing the Alphorn or the accordion? (Really, most wear jeans and work in offices.)

How many Europeans believe the stereotype of the American tourist? The American wears a t-shirt, baseball hat, and white tennis shoes, while being photographed making goofy poses in front of important cultural landmarks. (You know, pretending to hold up the tower of Pisa or standing in front of a statue while pointing at the sky, such that in the picture, your finger goes right up the statue’s nose.)

While listening to the yodeling, I thought back to how Julianne and I stood on the banister of the restaurant’s patio. We took pictures of each other “hanging” from the top of the Matterhorn, or “holding” the entire mountain in the palm of our hands. I looked down. I was wearing a t-shirt, but (phew!) no baseball cap and no white tennis shoes. My tennis shoes were light grey.


© Mary Ann Miller, 2006
First printed in The Budget, Nov. 1, 2006.

Breaking the Silence

After a long silence, she finally posts again. Doubtless you have been holding your breath when you click on this link daily… “Has she uploaded something new?! Has she?!”
Right.
At this point I would like to insert a quote from Nathan’s webpage:
"Creating your own blog is about as easy as creating your own urine, and you're about as likely to find someone else interested in it." - Lore Sjöberg

Yes. Thank you, Nathan.

Actually, I moved, which explains part of my absence from posting. My days in student housing in the only ugly high rises (see right) in the greater Bern area are past.

I now live a two-minute walk from the university buildings, in what I like to call the “artistic quarter.” By artistic, I mean that a number of youths have left their artistic works on the front of the building in the medium of spray paint. But it’s luxurious living. I have my own room, share a kitchen with two others, and a shower with nine.
When I brought my stuff to the room, I asked the person I’m subletting from, “So, why is there a plastic container below the window?”
“Well, sometimes, (but only when the wind blows from the south!) the window, um, leaks a bit.”
“And the electric heater?”
“Well, in the winter, (but only when the wind blows from the south!), it gets a bit drafty in the room.”
I love where I live though. The people are fun, the room is cozy, and (thanks to happy wireless sharing) I now have internet.

(I really do live in a nice part of town. See? This is just down the street.)