Self-Washing Bathrooms (When Can We Get One!?)

We had such a great day on the 'green walk' - a term I'll explain later. I've tried to write about it all, but it simply won't fit into one post.

Outside the gardens near Basel University

It was on this day that we first went looking for a public toilet. (I know. I write about the oddest things.)  Jane had a map that indicated one could be found somewhere near the old wall that indicated a medieval city boundary. We wandered the length of it, finally finding someone to ask and of course were directed to the other end, and around the corner. 

Inside!

It was our first of several experiences with the automatic, self-cleaning toilets in Basel. I didn't take a photo of that one, but found myself definitely admiring some of the others we found.

Note the silly sign on the left...urinals apparently...

Though not all were, a good number of the public toilets in Basel were of the self-cleaning variety. However they were routinely clean, in good working order, supplied with warm water, soap and hand dryers and FREE. What's not to love?





Well, actually, the tricky part was knowing what button to push when. We were all skittish about the possibility of being locked in and washed ourselves! Still, they were brilliant and made me appreciate Basel all the more. Besides, we always seemed to get a good laugh whenever we visited these contraptions.



Then there was a story about the day I stayed home and Chris stood waiting patiently in the pouring rain outside a loo in the Munsterplatz, waiting for the red light to turn green. Bill and I passed 'Chris's Box' on the last day, after Jane and Chris had got a train to Zurich. At Bill's suggestion, I photographed the box in Chris's honour, before we each availed ourselves of the facility.

"Chris's box" in Munsterplatz

The Flat

So, about the trip to Basel. We flew via Amsterdam. As we walked through Schiphol we both remarked it wasn't as shiny and sparkling new as we had remembered it. Guess we're all getting older. 

Bill had the trip all planned out and while we managed to get the bus from the Basel airport (which as far as I can tell is in France, not Switzerland) to the train station, we couldn't find the right tram to near the flat so we gave up and took a taxi. Given the driver's use of acceleration and braking I was thinking it was a New York experience (which I've not had) but he had an electric car, which impressed me, and it was a quick journey down a load of one-way streets.

An ordinary, nondescript block of flats.

You'll have to excuse the disarray of the flat in the photos. Most were taken on the morning we were all packing up. We'd stripped the beds to help out the girl who tended the flat and of course our focus was on getting bags packed and clothes suitable for a rainy walk to the train station. 

With all that glass, not a lot of security, but it didn't worry me.

Jane & Chris had already arrived and re-arranged the furniture. The flat was advertised as having two double bedrooms, which wasn't quite true as the second bedroom had no door on it and you had to sidle around the edges of the two twin beds. 




Still, they chose this room with the balcony out the back after putting the (Ikea) bookshelf unit in the door way with the rickety screen behind it. With their towels hung over the screen they had a fair amount of privacy, the breeze and the relative quiet of the back gardens. Good choice.



Ours was a large attractive room furnished with a chest of drawers and clothes rack (from Ikea) and a large bed with nightstands. 





The big window had shutters for privacy (no curtains anywhere in the flat) and doors into the hall and the living room. 





The other bedroom, we decided, was so small because the bathroom had been built in part of that space and we figured given the age of the building that originally there were probably shared WCs on the half landings between each floor, now storage space. The front windows of the flat looked out across the busy road (noisy at night, but not as noisy as horn-honking Italians, the Swiss are much more civilised) at more flats. The one directly across from us was pretty much the ugliest I saw on the whole trip. 

I did learn that it is not unusual for people to have a (Ikea) cabinet on their balcony, generally for storing their shoes. That suggests to me that, unlike in Britain, their rain is also very civilised, restricting itself to vertical movement.

The kitchen conveniently had a window out onto the balcony which facilitated food transport on the evenings we ate outside. 

It was furnished with the basics (from Ikea), including a dishwasher and one of those stupid Nespresso machines. I despise them (being a producer of needless waste for landfill), but when the (free from the cruise) packets of caffeinated coffee ran out I ended up using the machine as the coffee was supplied, or perhaps left by previous tenants along with various condiments and oils. I made a full strength coffee in a large mug, but pushed the button for the little ones (I used the little cups to tuck away my British money in my underwear drawer and on my nightstand to put my rings and earrings in each night). Then I poured out half the coffee, diluted it about 5-1 with hot water from the kettle, adding sweeteners and skimmed milk. If they served it at a coffee place it would be called a Skinny Wimp or perhaps Coffee a la Hot Chocolate. Did I mention these idiotic machines make the most horrific noise?

Jane & Chris had just completed a two week river cruise on the Rhine that ended in Basel, hence the obvious choice for where to meet up. It being one of those hugely expensive, luxurious all-inclusive trips and they being (in some ways) of a tightwad leaning much like myself, they discovered that just like in the old days with soap, shampoos, etc in hotel rooms, the company generously restocked the mini-bar in their room with no complaints whatsoever. So we had several litres of white and red wine in half-bottles, a good supply of Gordon's gin and Baileys liqueur and a small selection of whiskey and rum. With all that to carry, it's no surprise that Chris's back acted up during the holiday. Shame I didn't get a photo of the stash. We did our share of getting through it, Bill poured red wine on a heated up beef and pasta and I invented a dessert that involved chopped up fruit drowned in Baileys; and we had aperitifs and wine with dinner. After all, we had to spare Chris's back on their return to Australia.

The living room had some weird and less than wonderful (for bad backs and short people) furniture in bright colours, plus the latest (I guess) in TV screens. Chris had never seen a curved one. They had moved the round table and four chairs from the kitchen to one end of the living room and that seemed a very sensible arrangement.




Jane figured the flat was furnished by a young man who didn't cook much and had different priorities to ours and I had to agree (his name is Phillipe). They were most excited to show us the pièce de résistance: the lavatory. I just looked it up and sure enough in North America the lavatory refers to the bathroom sink; Brits use this word to mean the toilet. I'm talking about the sink. And I've finally given in and added a label I've long considered: Loos I've Loved - watch this space!

It was a rather amazing contraption as the base had a light and a motion detector, providing a dim night light for nocturnal visitors, such as myself and Chris. It's just that with the vase shape and the marble material it looked more to me like a sacrificial basin to some gods of fire.  We all agreed that Phillipe really outdid him self in this selection and clearly he was proud of it as well as it features large in his online adverts. It would be a deal-maker for you, wouldn't it?

For all its quirks, it was a pretty good flat: everything worked, great shower, and excellent location near shops (including Aldis and Coop) and walking distance to the train station. Bill chose very well, I'd say.

Zipping thru the Marland Mansion

I always think there isn’t much to see in Ponca City but Pat proved me wrong, yet again. We managed to get to this "Marland Grand Home" about 10 minutes before it closed, but since Pat knew the lady working there, we got to wander around at our leisure. 




I really didn’t want to make her stay late so I did a whiz of a tour, snapping photos like mad, mostly bad ones unfortunately.  

These elegant banisters weave their way up three flights.

I definitely want to go back and see it again on our next visit.

E. W. Marland was the 10^th governor of Oklahoma and somewhat controversial because of having married his [un-] adopted daughter (niece of his first wife) after the death of said first wife, Mary Virginia Collins. 

Marland imported red foxes to promote hunting.

The second wife, Lydie Roberts Marland, was a bit mysterious as well, if I recall correctly from our visit a few years ago when we toured the BIG Marland Mansion. I don't think she had a very easy life at all.




The bigger place is called Palace of the Prairie, and we walked around it for about four hours, the day before we were to run a marathon; absolutely not a smart thing to do. That’s the worst run I’ve ever had in my whole life and I have only myself to blame.

The 1920s sun parlor.

I actually like this older, smaller house much better. Who needs 55 rooms?

The dining room is paneled in dark walnut wainscoting and embellished with silver and mirrored wall scones. The furniture is from the Paris family era, who owned this house in later years. The elegant chandelier is Waterford Crystal from Ireland and the walls are hand-painted by artist, George Lasarsky. 

Marland's life sounds like a financial roller coaster, making oil fortunes in Pennsylvania and Oklahoma and then losing each.  

His first wife may have saved herself a lot of trouble by dying in 1926. 

Mary Virginia (Collins) Marland was born in 1876 in Philadelphia, Pa. She married E. W. Marland there in 1903. A noted social and charity leader in Ponca City, much of her work benefited the Salvation Army and the PC Hospital. She was also interested in the humane treatment of animals and she was noted for her hospitality. At her death, three cars were required to accommodate all the flowers to go to her gravesite. All stores and even banks in town closed for two hours out of respect for Mrs. Marland.

Linen Cedar Closet – Designed to hold linens and some clothing for the M family, guests and housekeepers. Original hand-painted labels on edges of cedar shelves, each shelf designated for a particular person or location in the house.

Another chapter for my book (not) Loos I've Loved.

Not that striking except for the sheer size and light.

In fishing around for information about Marland and Lydie I discovered that there was a movie project being considered with Jennifer Lawrence, called "Ends of the Earth".  Sadly, the deal may have fallen through when she won her Oscar.

I can't tell if that's going to happen or not, but I'd definitely go see it! 

I might even pay full price at the theatre, but I don't promise. Better spent, I gave that amount making a donation to this wonderful place.

Avoca Beach Picture Theatre

There was a day when there were loads of folks at the beach house in Avoca that I just took myself off for some solitude. 



I knew exactly where I wanted to go.



Jane had told me about seeing the preview of The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel. 

Bill doesn't go see films much, in fact I can tell you exactly which movies we've seen together:  Twister (our first date), The First Wives Club, and the last two Harry Potter films.  

It's no big deal as I'm not that big on paying movie theatre prices, but I knew I'd love anything with Maggie Smith and Judi Dench in it.  What I didn't expect was to fall in love with the theatre itself. 



It was a movie theatre, but also a pub and also an amazing shop. 

Life is not about Waiting for the Storm to Pass...It is about Learning to Dance in the Rain.  (Particularly in one lives in England...)

Even the loos were fun:

Not that I went in the Gents...

I've never seen such great ideas!

On each of the stall doors!

I browsed at length and then went away to buy myself brunch to fill in the time until the next showing. 

Life is not Measured by the number of Breaths we take, but by the Moments that Take our Breath Away.

I had myself some salad, steak and chips at a restaurant overlooking the beach.  Delicious.

My day out proved to be just the R&R I needed, away from the need to socialise, to be polite, to consider others, to do anything other than think my own thoughts in silence. 

Needing occasional solitude is simply part of me, something I can't change about myself, not that I wish to.



However, I was quite excited to drag Bill back to the theatre, after everyone else had returned to Sydney and we had a couple of days to ourselves. 

He loved it, too. 

Who wouldn't?