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<\/div>\nI came home yesterday after two weeks in the US. On the flight from San Francisco to Frankfurt, I sat next to a buxom Hungarian woman who was kind enough to share her philosophy of life with me.<\/p>\n
\u201cI figure there are idiots in America, idiots in Hungary. Good people in America, good people in Hungary. It\u2019s the same. World is the same everywhere.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cHow\u2019d you come to live in Oceanside?\u201d<\/em> I ask.<\/p>\n \u201cMy husband came home from work one day, said we could live in California, Australia, England, Switzerland, Germany, and I said, okay let\u2019s go to California.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n On Lufthansa, drinks are free. I start with a Campari and soda, something I\u2019ve always wanted to try. The bright red color, like grenadine syrup, intrigues me. My companion takes the better choice, red wine. Then we have more wine with dinner while discussing her career with J.C Penney\u2019s and the Men\u2019s Wearhouse, her move into wedding wear, and her brief stint at Lowe\u2019s during which she gained the expertise and equipment to paint her entire condo. About five years ago her husband died, as did several relatives in Hungary. Now that she’s over the shock, she\u2019s going back to Hungary to deal with all the paperwork. Her twin daughters went to UCSD and are software engineers, and they both have wonderful California boyfriends. Judging from her enthusiastic interaction with the toddler in the seat in front of us, she\u2019s more than ready to become a grandma.<\/p>\n After dinner, she follows my lead as I indulge myself in a Bailey\u2019s on ice. Things are improving, although there are still seven and a half hours to go to Frankfurt. There are no seat-back video monitors and the movie has not yet come on. She fills the time telling me how she got laid off from the Men\u2019s Wearhouse.<\/p>\n \u201cThis girl came, to be my boss, she was very younger than me, 24,\u201d<\/em> she said. \u201cI\u2019m fine with that, no problem. Then she say she has new boyfriend. She\u2019s all excited. He was forty-eight! Can you believe that? He has two children from previous marriage. I told her this is no good.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s 24 years\u2019 difference!\u201d <\/em>I calculate quickly. \u201cNot good at all.\u201d<\/em> Much mutual head-shaking.<\/p>\n \u201cThen she starts to find ways I am not working well. Complains about me. I say, this is not Serbia! You cannot do this kind of thing in America! She has her boss call and tell me I am no longer employee. In America!\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cIdiots everywhere,\u201d<\/em> I say sympathetically. She agrees. “It’s like I say, idiots in America, idiots in Serbia, good people in America, good people in Serbia. Both.”<\/em> We nod together, contemplating the global nature of human goodness and idiocy.<\/p>\n When we finally get to Frankfurt, we go our bleary-eyed separate ways, she on to Belgrade, me to Geneva. While waiting in an interminable line for security screening, I meet a Belgian who works for Roche in Basel, where I learn that one kilo of cellphone generates 15 kilos of waste, and one kilo of laptop computer generates 150 kilos of waste! I feel guilty for the cellphone I lost hiking in the Alps last fall. Maybe I should have gone back and searched for it.<\/p>\n Roche has drastically reduced the amount of waste in its manufacturing, he tells me. \u201cEveryone thinks it will cost more, but it doesn\u2019t.\u201d<\/em> I ask him what Roche is doing about the problem of pharmaceuticals in the water supply. People peeing out all those antibiotics and vitamins and medications that aren\u2019t absorbed by their bodies. Hermaphroditic fish. Frogs with no legs.<\/p>\n He nods knowingly. \u201cThe real problem is animal antibiotics,\u201d<\/em> he says, neatly dodging the question. We contemplate fields full of cowshit running off into streams and rivers, the unabsorbed antibiotic load infiltrating into the world\u2019s water supply, messing with our metabolisms. He admits he travels way too much by airplane, has a terrible carbon footprint. \u201cMy wife says she doesn\u2019t know whether she should be unpacking or packing my suitcase.\u201d<\/em> I refrain from the obvious comeback that he should pack and unpack his own damn suitcase and cut the poor woman a break.<\/p>\n It\u2019s good to be home, to catch the train to Morges, to walk in and find my house clean, fresh flowers on the coffee table, the lawn mowed, the daffodils in full bloom. They must have missed me! I dole out the Jelly Bellies and smile at the subtle details that tell me the house has been inhabited by males \u2013 streaks on the countertops, laundry piled up in the basement (although most of it is miraculously clean!), mail piled up near the front door waiting to be opened. A new range of men\u2019s shampoo and shower gel has mysteriously taken up residence in our shower (my husband is a sucker for niche marketing). We\u2019re out of ice cream, but there\u2019s a good stash of beer in the basement.<\/p>\n After a long, deep sleep, punctuated once by a slightly panicked awakening in which I have no idea where I am, I\u2019m up and over jet lag (without the aid of Jelly Bellies) and off for a morning run along the lake with a friend. Life is good!<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" I missed April Fool’s Day, and I had a good gag to post, so I guess that means I’ll be blogging for at least another year. No! That’s not supposed to be a joke! It shouldn’t be a problem because … Continue reading