Wednesday, March 08, 2017

Mir spränge dr Raame!

Basler Fasnacht 2017 - Mir spränge dr Raame!







Thursday, February 16, 2017

I can do this!

FIS Alpine Ski World Championships 2017 St. Moritz, presented by some car manufacturer with almost as many rings as the Olympics. In fact, about 20 km away from St. Moritz, on the ski hill of Zuoz, at the qualifying races. This is where the lesser nations like Finland, Jamaica, Mexico or Tonga send their competitors down the slopes in hope that one or the other makes it to the main event, up the valley on the posh hill. And then there is the one guy from the Swiss national radio station, who at some stage late at night in a bar said that he could do just as well as the rookies just mentioned before.

Said radio guy could have been about anyone in Switzerland, me not withstanding. I have quite a few things to say about my skiing and while some might be true, I might actually still be very far away from being competitive. The other week I tried a speed trap on a steep slope in order to finally and officially crack the 100 kph. I failed by a mile, clocking up something short of 97 and to be frankly honest, I did not feel entirely safe hitting the brakes sharply before the fence. After two attempts I knew what I had to do to accelerate more, but I knew exactly that my braking action would be a considerable constraint.

Swiss Radio (SRF3) DJ Fabio Nay, wearing his vintage 1990s Swiss Cheese Union ski dress
(source: www.srf.ch)


I have no idea what kind of speed the skiers hit on a giant slalom qualifying track, but one would expect that to be somewhere in between 60 and 80 kph. Our radio DJ would have had to hit about 50 gates at that speed, turning left, right, left, right and left again. As far as I could see, there was not even any major topography difficulty in the track, apart from the obvious slope. Still, he looked like a tourist, waving his arms around and sliding left, right & centre. Having properly learnt how to ski on the edge (the physical edge that is, not the proverbial limit), this looked as if I could do better to me.

Most certainly, I would have looked worse. While I probably knew more about skiing before I ever heard about the offside rule in football, there is so much more that goes into skiing than watching the stuff on the telly every weekend and racing down the crazy tracks in the Ski Challenge game (for as long as it existed). Suddenly one starts to realize how much training has to go into a body to withstand the forces of nature once things become a bit more extreme. Being able to handle myself on a mountain is one thing, but doing this on a competitive level is another.

After all, as a born and bred Swiss I feel as if I have a reason to feel aggrieved. Neither have I cracked these bloody 100 kph, nor have I ever won a race. But pretty sure, somewhere over a beer or three in a bar, I would have told or will tell somebody, that I could do this too!

Monday, February 06, 2017

BA strike ops 9-11 February 2017

9 February 2017

BA468 LHR 1600-1900 BIO A320 (Titan)
BA469 BIO 2000-2050 LHR A320 (Titan)

BA846 LHR 0825-1145 WAW A320 (Titan)
BA847 WAW 1240-1430 LHR A320 (Titan)

BA848 LHR 0830-1150 ZAG B752 (Titan)
BA849 ZAG 1235-1410 LHR B752 (Titan)

BA854 LHR 0720-1015 PRG B752 (Titan)
BA855 PRG 1105-1225 LHR B752 (Titan)

BA866 LHR 1325-1650 BUD B752 (Titan)
BA867 BUD 1740-1925 LHR B752 (Titan)

BA920 LHR 1610-1845 STR B752 (Titan)
BA921 STR 1930-2020 LHR B752 (Titan)




10 February 2017

BA370 LHR 1700-1955 MRS B752 (Titan)
BA371 MRS 2040-2140 LHR B752 (Titan)

BA468 LHR 1600-1900 BIO A320 (Titan)
BA469 BIO 2000-2050 LHR A320 (Titan)

BA500 LHR 0705-0955 LIS B752 (Titan)
BA501 LIS 1045-1335 LHR B752 (Titan)

BA846 LHR 0830-1150 WAW A320 (Titan)
BA847 WAW 1240-1430 LHR A320 (Titan)

BA882 LHR 0750-1305 KBP B752 (Titan)

BA883 KBP 1400-1555 LHR B752 (Titan)

Friday, February 03, 2017

BA Strike Ops 5-7 February 2017

British Airways strike ops February 2017

5 February

BA850 LHR 1520-1845 WAW B752 (Titan)
BA851 WAW 1935-2120 LHR B752 (Titan)

BA882 LHR 0755-1310 KBP A320 (Titan)
BA883 KBP 1405-1600 LHR A320 (Titan)

BA938 LHR 0925-1145 DUS B763 (Titan)
BA939 DUS 1255-1330 LHR B763 (Titan)

BA1312 LHR 1430-1610 ABZ B763 (Titan)
BA1313 ABZ 1650-1830 LHR B763 (Titan)

BA1314 LHR 1655-1830 ABZ A320 (Thomas Cook?)
BA1315 ABZ 1910-2045 LHR A320 (Thomas Cook?)




6 February

BA468 LHR 1600-1900 BIO A320 (Titan)
BA469 BIO 1955-2045 LHR A320 (Titan)

BA846 LHR 0830-1150 WAW A320 (Titan)
BA847 WAW 1240-1430 LHR A320 (Titan)

BA854 LHR 0720-1015 PRG B752 (Titan)
BA855 PRG 1105-1225 LHR B752 (Titan)

BA866 LHR 1325-1650 BUD B752 (Titan)
BA867 BUD 1740-1925 LHR B752 (Titan)

BA932 LHR 1715-1935 DUS B763 (Titan)
BA933 DUS 2030-2055 LHR B763 (Titan)

BA1306 LHR 0800-0935 ABZ A320 (Thomas Cook?)
BA1307 ABZ 1035-1210 LHR A320 (Thomas Cook?)

BA1312 LHR 1430-1610 ABZ A320 (Thomas Cook?)
BA1313 ABZ 1650-1830 LHR A320 (Thomas Cook?)



7 February 2017

BA468 LHR 1600-1900 BIO A320 (Titan)
BA469 BIO 1955-2045 LHR A320 (Titan)

BA750 LHR xxxx-1630 BSL B763 (Titan)
BA749 BSL1715-xxxx LHR B763 (Titan)

BA790 LHR 0740-1035 GOT B763 (Titan)
BA791 GOT 1140-1300 LHR B763 (Titan)

BA846 LHR 0830-1150 WAW A320 (Titan)
BA847 WAW 1240-1430 LHR A320 (Titan)

BA854 LHR 0720-1015 PRG B752 (Titan)
BA855 PRG 1105-1225 LHR B752 (Titan)

BA866 LHR 1325-1650 BUD B752 (Titan)
BA867 BUD 1740-1925 LHR B752 (Titan)

BA1306 LHR 0800-0935 ABZ A320 (Thomas Cook?)
BA1307 ABZ 1035-1210 LHR A320 (Thomas Cook?)

BA1312 LHR 1430-1610 ABZ A320 (Thomas Cook?)

BA1313 ABZ 1650-1830 LHR A320 (Thomas Cook?)


Wednesday, February 01, 2017

Der Preis

Ich werde langsam alt. Oder ich habe an Weihnachten zu viel Gutes gegessen. Entweder das eine oder das andere oder beides.

Die Geschichte wiederholt sich jedes Jahr, meistens im Frühjahr. Dieses Jahr war es Ende Januar, bei gefühlt frühlingshaften Temperaturen, eitel Sonnenschein und doch noch den letzten Schneeresten in den Sundgauer Vorgärten. Die erste Fahrt mit dem Velo zum Flughafen war bloss ein paar Kilometer lang, aber dennoch die übliche Qual.

Aller Anfang ist stets leicht. Da geht es den Berg runter in Richtung Landesgrenze. Die paar Kurven bis dort hin beherrsche ich wie im Schlaf. Lediglich die Grenzpassage ist wie eine Skirennpiste. Alle paar Wochen stehen die Absperrungen leicht anders und man muss sich eine neue Linie einprägen, damit man möglichst wenig Schwung verliert und danach auch den zwei, drei fiesen Löchern ausweichen kann. Jenseits der schweizerisch-französischen Grenze ist ein Geschwindigkeitsverlust fatal, denn der Strassenbelag in Frankreich hat es in sich.

Im vollgefressenen und untrainierten Zustand spielen auch die paar Zentimeter Höhenunterschied von einem Dorf zum anderen eine Rolle. Mal kurz rüber cruisen? Denkste! Da ist harte Arbeit angesagt, kurbeln, kurbeln und noch mal kurbeln. Am nächsten Ortsausgang trennt sich der Veloweg von der Hauptstrasse und es ist Zeit für einen Schluck aus der Flasche. Oder es wäre Zeit dafür. An manche Dinge wagt man im Winter einfach nicht zu denken. Also weiter …

Der Kopf wird schwerer, die Atmung noch schwerer und die zweistündige Foto-Pause am Flughafen kommt immer näher. Kurz vor dem Ziel geht es runter vom befestigten Weg auf eine Seitenstrasse, die zum Glück noch halb gefroren (und nur deshalb nicht schlammig) ist. 300m tue ich mir das an, dann steige ich ab. Einen Crash will ich nicht, dazu bin ich spontan grad zu erledigt. Dann taucht hinter den Bäumen in der Ferne ein Flugzeug auf, welches ich unbedingt fotografieren will. Also doch wieder zurück auf den Drahtesel!

Besagtes Gefährt kurzerhand am Wegrand parkiert, renne ich den Fotohügel hoch und konstatiere, dass ich im Eifer des einsam geführten Gefechts ein fliegendes Ziel anvisiert hatte, das mit meinen ursprünglichen Vorstellungen nichts zu tun hatte. Stattdessen gibt mir mein Körper zu verstehen, dass ich demnächst am heiterhellen Nachmittag den Sternenhimmel zu sehen bekommen werde, dürfte er nicht bald einmal an einer Cola rumnuckeln. Und da ich nichts davon halte, live aus einer Ambulanz zu bloggen, habe ich auch brav die Flasche angesetzt!





Als Beweis dafür, dass der Aussetzer keine bleibenden Schäden hinterlassen hat sollen die beiden Bilder gelten, von einem Airbus A319 in privater Hand, der mir so unbekannt war, dass ich sogleich eine Fata Morgana bei 5°C vermutete und von einer spanischen Boeing 757 auf einem Frachtkurs aus Madrid.

Monday, January 02, 2017

You naughty!

Oh yeah, the white stuff. It is here, finally!

Snow. That lovely stuff that softens all noises, makes kids happy, lights up places even at night (albeit with some help), covers the landscape so nicely. Also, snow. That white glibbery something that lets people slip, fall over and in the subtropic flatlands of Basel seems to make the people all gaga. Yes, we spent four months of late fall and early winter moaning about the 10th non-white Christmas on the bounce and when the snow finally arrives, we wish it back off to hell, even though it usually comes from high above.

As I am writing to you out there, I am in my warm home. Listening to the sound of somebody doing some awkward sports outside. You can not possible try to tell me that literally still hours after Christmas anyone is fit enough to do a serious workout. Bring on the snow and suddenly the whole neighborhood starts to feel like having to protect their walkways from that mean white layer.


I have hardly spent half an hour on this and I have heard at least two shovels and one leaf blower trying to banish the frozen demons from the North. Ok, this place was burnt down by some naughty Swedes almost 400 years about, but seriously, should we fear another invasion by this folk? Or just leave that snow where it is, as it is. It is not going to last long anyway!

Wednesday, December 21, 2016

It was only a kiss!

I am writing this as I hold Jack in my hand. Jack who brings the warm and the calm back to me, Jack my saviour. Jack who cost me a load of pennies at the bar. For Jack's sake, no, he is not my boyfriend and neither he is my nephew. Jack is a drink, a hot whisky of sorts, a welcome alternative to your average Glühwein available on the Christmas market.

Just, why did I need to meet Jack so desperately then? Put it all down to a kiss. I had a ride on this yellow big little something we call tramway, just slightly out of town towards the shopping mall. Casually stood in the alley (as I am meant to be for another 30 years for sure), I surely did not expect what was coming our way. A soft braking action towards my stop turned into something nastier. The pilot up front seemed to have gone the way of full reverse thrust and blown tyres in my book.

At the back, the pedestrian self-loading cargo was starting to shift slightly towards the front. Half a millisecond after the braking got stiffer, I held on the handrails a bit tighter. Only to let go another millisecond later, assuming that if not, my wrist or my arm could soon point into a slighty uncomfortable direction. Just as I kind of regained control, the lady to my right came closer and closer and … oh, well, lucky enough she did not hit me at full tilt. Nothing against a fair lady on top of yours truly, but let it be another one. Please!

The yellow 40-metre chariot turned awkwardly silent, with the entire population of this microcosmos waiting for things to happen, the tram to make the last ten metres to the station. Things probably lasted five minutes, but in proper football terms, this rather felt like 45. It may have been six or seven minutes even, given the necessity for people to start calling their close ones. Not feeling that need just yet, I tried to have a look outside, where somewhere up front I saw a van in an unconventional position, right on the opposite direction tracks.


Said van soon retreated and the driver swiftly got called over for an open-air meeting over paperwork. Not much bad blood ma'am, but if you are smart enough to put yourself and your van into the tram hit zone, you pretty much deserve a good shellacking out in the breeze. She might argue that her front numberplate got headbutted by that yellow monster that had just eaten 150 humans before. Lucky enough, apart from that, nothing of note happened. As far as the tram and the van are concerned, it was only a kiss.