Ente gut, Alles gut. OR Yielding to the Fight or Flight impulse

What a title.

Yes, they say that All is well that ends well.  Although I'm not sure there is a good end in sight for any of the matters presently at hand.

Spare Mom in  Zurich 2012

But, you see, the German translation of that English saying is really Ende gut, Alles gut.   But mother and I were eating duck last night. 

 And the German word for duck is Ente.  

Believe me when I say that to hear the bastardized proverb coming out the mouth of the Chinese waiter was just one of those moments. 


 Very much like when Spare Mom and I overheard someone say the following in Bellagio in 2012: 


     Tutto Bene, Marlene?







And this happens to be just the right title for this particular post: 
All is well that ducks well !

6 am.  I've been WIDE awake since 4 am. Or was that 3 am?

At 7 am I'm standing at a bank machine and am furiously wondering why I can't insert my card.  It takes me 2 friggin minutes to realize that the card has to go in with the magnetic strip facing UP.  WTF? WHY does this Sparkasse in this fetid-arse-of-the-world town insist to install the card reader this way when THE WHOLE PLANET seems to actually have AGREED on at least one thing, namely to insert the bank card magnetic strip DOWN?  Even in the sexist Shutterstock image on the left (WHO but a woman would insert the card the wrong way) the shape of the reader makes it obvious that the card is to be inserted mag-strip DOWN.


7:30 Breakfast !  I almost loose my appetite when I see the prices for assisted living places in this town.  Ah well. Mom can't continue the way she is now.

9:15 I'm at my mother's and we take a taxi to a medical appointment. There we meet her guardian.   Lovely woman; I'm delighted to see that mother is in excellent hands.  As soon as three people are present it becomes obvious that mother presents a different version of reality to each of those present.  Nothing new about that either; she's been doing that as long as I can remember.  

10 am I'm waiting for a chance to talk alone to the guardian but that moment doesn't seem to come.   What I really want to know is whether my presence here can actually produce a positive result during the next 4 days. Otherwise I might just leave for a hiatus.    

10:15  Seems Guardian had the same idea about talking outside of mother's presence.  Mother gets placed into the taxi to take her home and Guardian and I head to an Ice Cafe (Later that evening my mother insinuates that I ditched her to flirt with her guardian).

The Departed. Meet my last victim: Mr sour cherry Crepe. YUM !

What I hear during the next two hours opens quite a few old wounds that I had thought had healed over completely.  I was wrong. These old wounds still do hurt.  
 There are also some new wounds when old lies of my mother are finally exposed after decades.  These new wounds don't hurt much; I had expected certain things to be lies and I'm just getting confirmation now.  

It's when you lie to a young child who believes EVERY SINGLE WORD that his mother utters, that's when you do the real damage.  

So when I fall asleep in my hotel at 1 pm it is not only physical exhaustion that brings on the sleep but also an emotional tiredness.

I told my mother that I'd visit her in the early afternoon by rental bicycle.  When I wake up, I could theoretically still do that. I even start walking towards Fahrradstation across the street.  Then I turn around and head back into bed. WTF?  
NOPE, it's NOT only being tired.   I am doing my best to procrastinate.    




But what is procrastination in the endeavour to meet someone?  

Nothing but avoiding that someone. A bad sign.

At 6 pm the bike-rental place is closed and I take a taxi to my mother's place.

Yes, there are those old re-opened wounds.  But there is also something else.  Spending time with my mother drives me up the walls!   I can feel my stomach tightening up.  What is worse, I can tell that my answers are getting shorter and snappier.  I don't mean to hurt her but I can't have a regular conversation with this woman.  Too much shit happened in the past and she can hoot the mother/son love story as much as she wants now, it won't undo the past and I'll just be wary that it's yet another manipulative facade.  That's the real problem; over the years and decades I have learned to see right through most of her ploys. And I really don't like what I see below that facade.



So I have a choice. 






1) Stay here for the week. Have my stomach clench up worse every day and become bitter and more mean to my mother every day.  










2) I could just leave for a while.






The decision is almost made for me when I find out that there is no hotel room free in town on Tuesday.  O.k. so there actually is ONE. A room with 3 beds for 110 Euros a night.  I don't think so, that's DOUBLE what I usually pay around here.  AND there are no decent-price rooms to be found within a radius of 10 kms for the next two nights. 

To LEAVE for a few days seems the most sensible choice all of a sudden ;-)


All is well that ducks well