Stonehenge Redux

I have considered critical comments that had been received about the recent post describing my trip to Stonehenge.

Example: The letter is all nice and pleasant, but there is no evidence or proof that you actually visited the site. The excellent photo was unrepresentative of your usual ill-focused and poorly framed efforts. Perhaps you simply downloaded them from the web. No photograph of you, for instance, was available to confirm your presence.

“Ah, ha,” I thought.

I was, of course, prepared for skepticism. In fact, I had the exact remedy for comment at hand: A self-portrait with Stonehenge in the background, poorly framed, ill-focused and featuring inadequate lighting.

The Basement

The news was ominous and frightening.

“He says,” Nazy explained, “that there is a water leak in the basement.”

“So? They will have to fix it,” I replied.

“The leak is directly under our storage and we will have to clear..”

“Oh No!”

Like all Swiss apartments, ours includes a storage closet in the basement bomb shelter. Our storage contains an eclectic mixture of random stuff stacked to the ceiling. Luckily, many of the items are useless drivel that should be trashed. Unluckily, because I have been consistently unable to fathom Zürich’s complex garbage and recycling regulations, nothing has been disposed of. As a result, my response to the troubling situation mirrors a predator’s response to a skunk: avoidance. I never go to the basement. You can, therefore, imagine my reaction to Nazy’s suggestion, eh, command:

“We will have to sort the storage.”

“That means we will have to go downstairs and look at it.” I replied.

“And sort it, Dan. Be Brave!”

I shuttered.

Undaunted, Nazy enthusiastically directed activities. I moved everything into the hall. She sorted.

I noticed a musty smell as I dislodged useless waste, eh, treasured possessions. (The water leak had bubbled up through the crushed gravel ‘floor’.) Nazy, meanwhile, had rapidly constructed a “disposables” mound. Old and empty suitcases formed a foundation that was two meters high. In addition, we discovered several Apple Computers (last used in the previous millennium), a computer monitor heavier that the Battleship Missouri, and a collection of pots and pans that had been earmarked for donation to archaeological researchers. As these were cleared, I located cartons of VHS tapes (we no longer have a VHS player). Tape theme established, I uncovered a few boxes of cassette music tapes. (We found a cassette player in one of the boxes. It didn’t have a power cord.)

The musty smell grew stronger as I continued the excavation process. I eventually located something important – boxes of photographs and files of important papers. All suffered significant water damage. (My thesis, for example, had the pages stuck together and smelled like a broken septic tank.) Nazy, surveying several boxes of photographs from her childhood in Iran, was not amused.

“You, Dan, arranged the basement when we moved.”

“Well..”

“And you, Dan, put the most important stuff in the absolutely worst location.”

“I protected all of that stuff by covering it with impervious layers of suitcases and electronic equipment.”

“Dan..”

“Who would have thought that a Swiss residence would suffer from a water leak? I am sure there is a rule about that.”

Clearly on the back foot, I decided to change the subject. “Well, my dear,” I craftily began. “What do you plan to do with the stuff that you put in the ‘dispose’ pile?” Well aware of the garbage regulations, I was confident. “Heh, heh, heh,” I thought. “I wonder if she’ll try to stuff those suitcases into a Zürisack?”

“We will take it to Schneider’s in Meilen,” Nazy replied – instantly. (And triumphantly.)

“But..” I spluttered.

“Bunzi told me that Schneider will take everything.”

“For a fee,” I replied.

“A small fee, Dan.”

The following four sentences have been inserted into this post as the result of a spousal command: Schneider took the junk off of our hands. And, as Nazy predicted, the cost was low. She paid a meagre 10 Francs to get rid of a zillion suitcases and a variety of useless electronic equipment. Without her, nothing would have happened.

Update note from Dan: Schneider was closed when we arrived the first time.

Stonehenge

Not quite sure what the customer said, I made it back to the bus just in time for the departure to Stonehenge.

Although work on the monumental structure began more than 5050 years ago, there are significant similarities to the present day. For example, the entire edifice was handled the same way we do software development:

1. They began with a ‘henge’ which is a circular ditch. (This was the Stonehenge beta release.)
2. Progress continued with Woodhenge , completed 4600 years ago. (In this case, they added a wooden structure in the center of the henge.

3. Various upgrades, using stones – e.g. Stonehenge 2.0; Stonehenge 3.2a; Stonehenge Pro 4.6 - were completed during the next 1000 years.

Moreover, other similarities came to light. The Sarsen stones were dragged from Marborough Downs (19 miles away), the Bluestones from the Preseli Mountains in Wales, 240 Kilometers away. I imagine that the guys doing the dragging questioned the sanity of the managers in charge of the project. Imagine a worker conversation 3000 years ago:

“Dragging this rock…”

“Stone, my friend.”

“… from a zillion miles away is sheer insanity.”

“Are you questioning our leadership?”

“Me? Question the leadership? Of course not. It would be nice, however, if they’d join in the dragging.”

“Do you know what we are building?”

“No. What?”

“We are making a calendar.”

“A calendar? And nobody thought of parchment?”

“It hasn’t been invented yet – at least here.”

No, dear reader, I am not making this up. Stonehenge is a calendar. It is arranged so that the sun will shines through the monument differently each month and will be aligned through the middle of the structure at the Winter Solstice . I cannot personally verify this since it was drizzling while I was there (no Sun) and it wasn’t solstice time. As an aside, New York City can also be a calendar. At the summer solstice the sun shines directly down the streets – between the buildings.

Windsor Castle

“You know, Nazy,” I said. “I think I’ll just take a day for myself during this trip.”

“You won’t spend all your time working?” Nazy was flabbergasted.

“No, I’ll go and see Stonehenge.”

In spite of many trips to the UK, I almost always stay in London to work. If I go out, I usually focus on West End shows, but I have visited the British Museum to see all the non-British stuff like the Rosetta Stone [Egypt] and parts of the Parthenon [Greece]. A misguided sense of ‘duty’ prevented me from venturing farther afield. Recent company behaviour is effectively eroding that sense.

I decided to give myself ½ day ‘off-duty’. However, as the concierge explained, the standard tours include Windsor Castle, Stonehenge and Bath. In short, there are no half-day excursions. I considered (and rejected) an idea to drive to Stonehenge.

“The company can spare me for the day,” I thought as I booked the trip. My iPhone responded with the distinctive ring (the theme from Jaws) indicating a call from THE CUSTOMER. I had just completed the (non-refundable) transaction.

“We need to update you on our analysis of your response to our RFP.”

“No problem,” I replied. “I’m all ears.”

“We have to do it tomorrow.”

“I will be in Stonehenge tomorrow,” I thought. “Hmm,” I replied.

“Shall we make the call at noon?”

“Can you update me now?” I replied.

“No, my colleague is not available. Is noon okay?”

I anxiously reviewed the tour itinerary. “I’ll be at Windsor Castle,” I thought. “That will be fine,” I replied.

“So much for a whole day away from work,” I thought.

With the con-call programmed into the iPhone, I left early the next morning.

The first stop was Windsor Castle where Elizabeth II still spends her weekends. I saw Queen Ann’s Doll’s House (which is roughly the size of our apartment) and a variety of tastelessly ostentatious, but nevertheless interesting, formal rooms.

At noon (CET), I slipped out of the tour group for my con-call. Gobsmacked to see a huge group of people gathered around the courtyard, I dialled in. I announced my attendance just as the changing of the guard ceremony began. A loud marching band with bugles, drums and other noisemakers appeared whilst I was trying to find the mute button. I slipped into the nearby Abbey.

“You!”

“Shssh..” I said, phone on mute. “This is a religious building.” I wanted this guy to shut up.

“No mobile phones,” the busybody complained.

“It is very loud outside,” I replied – trying to concentrate on the messages being delivered by my customer.

“You can’t use your mobile phone in the Abbey,” a church official, alerted by the commotion, told me: “You! Must! Leave!”

Note: Although Windsor Castle is spacious, it is located very close to Heathrow. I wonder how the Queen copes with the noise. (See Photo).

The Opera

Each summer the city of Bergenz hosts an opera on Lake Constance. The outdoor theatre seats 700o. The set, nestled in the water, is gargantuan. [Disclaimer for Opera buffs: the performance is more spectacle than opera.] Although major operas are chosen, they are edited and rearranged to fit into Bergenz standard: 2 hours, no break. Aida, which normally lasts 4 hours, is this year’s opera. Since we were going to ‘the Opera’, I have to say that I was pleased by Bergenz rules.

I prepared myself with an on-line review. I have found that it’s not easy to follow the ‘plot’ because the singers, especially sopranos and (overweight) tenors, take forever to get to the point. There is also a rule against writing an opera in English – a fact that might explain the popularity difference between Harry Potter and Aida.

The weather was threatening during the drive. Nazy assured me that the ticket could be exchanged in the event of rain. (The performance is outside and the theatre has no roof.) Note: Some cynical readers may assume that I was hoping for rain; in fact, I wanted to see the show. I did hope, in vain, that the Wolford Factory Outlet would be shuttered during the Bregenz Opera Festival.

It rained for the (many) hours that we spent at Wolford, but the weather cleared for the evening performance. We had dinner at lakeside with a nice view of the set.

“You told me that this Opera takes place in ancient Egypt,” Nazy said.

“That’s right. It involves an Ethiopian princess/slave (Adia), the Pharaoh, his daughter (Amneris) and the young captain of the guard (Ramades).”

“Why is the set a giant blue and gold Statue of Liberty?”

“Nazy, my dear,” I replied. “It’s trendy, it’s avant gardé, it’s Opera translated to the 21st century..”

“Weren’t the Pharaohs alive in the, eh, ‘minus 3rd’ century?”

“You are missing the point. When people think of Opera, they think ‘stuffy’. This Opera is edgy. It’s chic. It’s fashionable.” I was eloquent. “It’s stupid,” I thought.

The set, constructed in the water, included not only the blue (and dismantled) Statue of Liberty, it also had two giant cranes and a stage the size of Luxembourg.

Before this trip, I thought that the Opera was essentially like a Broadway Musical with the cast singing in Italian. That wasn’t quite right.

In a Broadway Musical, the characters do not need binoculars to see each other. In this performance, the characters, separated by vast distances, needed the Hubble Space Telescope. For example, Aida might be standing on the stage (and in water 4 inches deep) while singing to Radames. He would be on the other side of the lake in a boat held 80 feet aloft by a construction crane. In short: the distance between them was the same as the distance between the Earth and the (dwarf) planet Pluto. It was difficult sometimes to tell who was singing to whom. In fact, it was sometimes difficult to even see who was singing. (I didn’t bring my space telescope.)

The Hike

Unlike me, Nazy had prepared for anniversary holiday by researching the area. She noted that her book of “1000 things to do before you die” waxed eloquent about the walk along the coast to visit each of the five cities, eh, towns, in Cinque Terre. Each had begun as a fishing community with its own character.

“The towns,” Nazy said, “feature colourful houses perched on the sides of steep cliffs.”

The word ‘steep’ should have gotten my attention. The next morning, armed with a small map, we confidently strode from hotel, walking south. We were greeted by a set of 342 narrow steps (all going up) as soon as we left the hotel grounds. The path continued to wind upward with a mixture of steps and narrow ‘walkways’ precariously perched along the mountain.

“I will not be the first to suggest that we stop and rest,” I thought.

The climb continued. After what seemed like the 32,342nd step, I began to reconsider my options. Nazy, buff and prepared, marched onward and upward, accelerating as she went.

“Why don’t we stop and admire the view?” I asked. “Before I expire,” I thought.

“Are you getting tired, Dan?” Nazy asked.

“Tired? Me? The view is spectacular,” I replied. “But it is hard to enjoy because I’m wheezing, my glasses are fogged and my legs feel like limp spaghetti.” I thought.

“This hike is one of the 1000 things we have to do before we die,” Nazy continued.

“I won’t be able to do the other 999 things if I die on this walk,” I thought.

We (finally) paused just before the path started down toward Vernazza (Nazy thought the town was named after her) where we had lunch. Nazy ordered the ‘local cuisine’ – i.e. fish and a tomato/mozzarella salad. She also befriended fellow tourists from Sweden.

“Sven says that the path to Cornigla, the next town, is long and steep, Dan.”

“Well, if you are not up to it,” I began. “Please, God,” I thought.

“But my book says that the hike is a ‘must’..”

“A ‘must’, my dear?” I replied. “There ‘must’ be a mistake,” I thought.

“We can ask more people,” Nazy suggested. Simultaneously, I began to scan the crowd for people who looked exhausted.

Everybody that had walked between Cornigla and Vernazza recommended the train. Amazingly, Nazy suggested that we take the train. I “reluctantly” agreed. It was an excellent decision. Cornigla, the smallest of the towns, is also the most boring. Getting “there” after a two hour hike would have been disappointing. Luckily the final two stops (Manarola and Riomaggore) were relatively easy and flat walks away.

The photo is of Portofino; more on that in the next posting.
[1] Nazy is convinced that they named the city after her…

The Business Offer

Pesky company business was interfering with my plans and wreaking havoc with my trip. An extremely complicated customer request had activated our company’s process genes. Meetings, con-calls and reviews were scheduled with no understanding whatsoever of the consequences (e.g. time zones) of the spheroid shape of the planet. Critical conferences were routinely scheduled for midnight or 1:00AM Hong Kong time. My boss called demanding an explanation.

“It is all my fault.” I confessed. “I am trying to do something different.”

“Different? Why would you…”

“Our marketing materials say that customers can purchase technology as if it were a utility: paying for what they use and only when they use it.”

“That’s just marketing, Dan..”

“The customer believed it.”

“What?! How could you let that happen?”

The challenge was clear: Naively, I was trying to deliver what was promised in the advertisements. Naturally, this unprecedented approach attracted the risk assessment subcommittee of the Business Avoidance Division (BAD).

“Your proposal, Dan,” one call began, “is untenable. It requires a coordinated response from our Financial Services, Storage, Technical Support, Software, Consulting and Outsourcing units.”

“The customer wants a solution.”

“And you expect to deliver it in North America, Europe, Asia and Austraila.”

“The customer wants a global solution.”

As it began to look like we might actually sell this, internal activity accelerated – sucking time and generating work. The risk assessors demanded ever-increasing detail and mitigation processes. Their objective was to raise the price so high that the customer wouldn’t buy the solution. (No Sale, No Risk.) At the same time, business managers who had been hostile to the approach began to realize that they would look like nay-saying fools if the customer actually bought the solution. As a result, a concerted effort to ‘help’ (i.e. ‘claim credit’) ensued. All of this resulted in a plethora of phone calls. Thus, I shouldn’t have been surprised at 3:00 AM when the iPhone began to emulate Big Ben.

Note: I just like the photo, I don't think it has anything to do with the posting