tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88391350368470725022024-03-20T06:20:49.891-07:00Meine beiden WeltenGiselahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08172991350250847199noreply@blogger.comBlogger4125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8839135036847072502.post-77119293509716391032016-11-06T06:06:00.001-08:002019-09-16T12:14:21.737-07:004. Down Town - zum ersten Mal<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Wir lebten nun erst so ca. 2 Wochen in den USA als mein
Onkel beschloss mich mit nach Manhattan zur Steuben Parade zu nehmen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ich war total aufgeregt, schließlich war es
mein erster Trip down town.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wir sind mit
der U-Bahn gefahren, wieder ein total neues Erlebnis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Die Steuben Parade wird in New York immer im
September abgehalten.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ihr könnt <a href="https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/German-American_Steuben_Parade">hier</a><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>darüber nachlesen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Amerikaner sind sehr darauf bedacht, ihre Geschichte
über ihre Vorfahren zu pflegen und auch diese Kultur beizubehalten.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Und für die Deutschen war es eben diese
Steuben Parade.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ich war sehr erstaunt
wie viele Trachtenzüge direkt aus Deutschland angereist waren.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Noch nie im Leben hatte ich solch eine Parade
gesehen (danach wurden die Paraden aber Teil meines Lebens durch die Schule und
später auch durch meine eigenen Kinder).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Ich bin froh dass ich sogar noch das Foto von meiner ersten Parade
habe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wir sind dann auch dem
Deutsch-Amerikanischen Club in der Bronx beigetreten.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Und ja, für diese Ereignisse habe ich dann
auch ein Dirndl getragen.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgreUs6aTVGh1MQmNxOH1eEPEy6oVCQ1AADInsy61wLDN9MJQcevMQotLx3PuiP5oo1Px38mJ9AcQ1YvYNJfcbinGbsDlfcdCqJb9dtPoseQcaasq-X6uty6Lk1CNwewa0uPRaerYvJdOGC/s1600/Steubenparade.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="580" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgreUs6aTVGh1MQmNxOH1eEPEy6oVCQ1AADInsy61wLDN9MJQcevMQotLx3PuiP5oo1Px38mJ9AcQ1YvYNJfcbinGbsDlfcdCqJb9dtPoseQcaasq-X6uty6Lk1CNwewa0uPRaerYvJdOGC/s640/Steubenparade.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1969 - Steuben Day Parade - Manhattan</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Mein nächster großer Ausflug war die <a href="http://mussenstellen.com/article/1964-new-yorker-weltausstellung">Worlds Fair</a>.</span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirMC277mlqwl-ad-R18bDOObkmEmOSRuUprI8gMk64lMfg-TI06nh6ALKpT9gHBfz0Ps4RcF2Qo8ub1nguyxa2ZU0BB8X3MmczmFYZRs9c0ntxK_HJPnmv8CKrA8m1LHdcmYo2KSjyYe6D/s1600/sourcealamedainfo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirMC277mlqwl-ad-R18bDOObkmEmOSRuUprI8gMk64lMfg-TI06nh6ALKpT9gHBfz0Ps4RcF2Qo8ub1nguyxa2ZU0BB8X3MmczmFYZRs9c0ntxK_HJPnmv8CKrA8m1LHdcmYo2KSjyYe6D/s640/sourcealamedainfo.jpg" width="442" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">source: alamedainfo</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>Diese Worlds Fair war 1964/65 und meine
Kusine Jeanne hat mich mit ihren Freundinnen mitgenommen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Das war natürlich noch mehr aufregend als die
Steuben Parade.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wir sind mit dem Bus von
der Bronx rüber nach Queens gefahren.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Wieder einmal wurde mir schlecht und meine arme Kusine riss das Fenster
auf, aber zum Glück überstand ich die Fahrt heil.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Man kann sich vorstellen was für einen
Eindruck ich von dieser Worlds Fair hatte.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Es war für mich gerade utopisch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wir
sind in so viele Ausstellungen gegangen und haben auch sehr viele leckere Dinge
probiert.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wie schön dass ich so etwas
erleben konnte obwohl ich mich damals kaum verständigen konnte.</span></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG6CWzB-L1R7LdKl57GJM6PCZrYh1-UFcLFfZkGI7uKF_pQf8W0ZEIJ0hN7WaPaavUbwT_L13-86-yFzeFN-nqNzgaxBelNErhAUc7ckArgBARlW9wu8xfTjiBY8AEwrg750rcRn55E9nh/s1600/justacarguyblogspot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="392" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG6CWzB-L1R7LdKl57GJM6PCZrYh1-UFcLFfZkGI7uKF_pQf8W0ZEIJ0hN7WaPaavUbwT_L13-86-yFzeFN-nqNzgaxBelNErhAUc7ckArgBARlW9wu8xfTjiBY8AEwrg750rcRn55E9nh/s640/justacarguyblogspot.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Source: justacarguyblogspot</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></o:p></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">We were in
the States for about 2 weeks when my uncle Adam decided to take me down town to
see the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/German-American_Steuben_Parade">Steuben Parade</a>. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is a
traditional German Parade which is always held in September.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You can check it out here.........<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Americans are very proud of their heritage
and like to research their ancestry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
was surprised to see so many clubs and bands marching.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A lot of these had flown over from Germany to
participate in the Parade.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was very
colorful and very traditional.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had
never seen a parade like that before (after that Parades became a part of my
life, in school and then after having my own children).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am happy that I still have the photo of my
very first parade.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We also joined the
German American Bavarians Club of the Bronx.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And yes, I did wear a Dirndl to those events. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQHpcYFrYSHB2sR6KmNiP07x-rSzdC-YzLVYDA_GXmm8ku4CO1oKFaJyyef2yjWDXU-tjc82EZiX258QcO8DYqeC_otIwFOStpAtf_378qTSIrptawUA73QaMIAmnhnTcRVl-oQ0kM65r5/s1600/02MomMeAdam.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="434" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQHpcYFrYSHB2sR6KmNiP07x-rSzdC-YzLVYDA_GXmm8ku4CO1oKFaJyyef2yjWDXU-tjc82EZiX258QcO8DYqeC_otIwFOStpAtf_378qTSIrptawUA73QaMIAmnhnTcRVl-oQ0kM65r5/s640/02MomMeAdam.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My mom, my uncle Adam and myself (in the middle)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">My next big
excursion was the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1964_New_York_World%27s_Fair">Worlds Fair.</a><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXLCeU1Ytae0k9lv1NIKx5YNK5Lsyptza1hGOq31oByqph-Mpd-EY3uJ_OAKuAcK6DOoqoc1ddMNlXZ5anux64gupwvK-kvwa97uxFnd3GB_MAz0tY7QJKkpnTy50xqNqiqSyoNSMLKycx/s1600/matterhorn1959blogspot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXLCeU1Ytae0k9lv1NIKx5YNK5Lsyptza1hGOq31oByqph-Mpd-EY3uJ_OAKuAcK6DOoqoc1ddMNlXZ5anux64gupwvK-kvwa97uxFnd3GB_MAz0tY7QJKkpnTy50xqNqiqSyoNSMLKycx/s640/matterhorn1959blogspot.jpg" width="484" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Source: matterhorn1959blogspot</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">The New
York City Worlds Fair was 1964/65 and I was so lucky when my cousin<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jeanne asked me to come with her and her girl
friends to the Fair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We took the bus
from the Bronx to Queens.... and, of course, I felt sick on the bus and my poor
cousin had to rip open the windows.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But
I survived and arrived excited at the Fair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Oh my gosh, it was so futuristic for me, all those wonderful rides into
a magical world, the food, just everything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It seemed unreal and I am still so grateful to Jeanne for taking me even
though I could hardly talk the language and we communicated with gestures. <o:p></o:p></span></span>
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Giselahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08172991350250847199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8839135036847072502.post-83917685187279488022016-10-30T13:04:00.000-07:002016-11-01T12:39:04.238-07:003. The Bronx<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Von Würzburg zur Bronx.... das war eine große Umstellung. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wir hatten in Würzburg in einer Siedlung
gelebt, so Nachkriegsbauten und die Zimmer waren sehr klein.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wir hatten eine Wohnküche, ein einziges
Schlafzimmer und ein kleines Wohnzimmer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In diesem Wohnzimmer hatte mein Opa gelebt bis er starb.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Und jetzt <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>hatten wir neben dem Wohnzimmer gleich zwei
Schlafzimmer. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In der Küche stand ein
Kühlschrank mit Gefrierfach, etwas was ich gar nicht kannte.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Und heißes Wasser, das kam aus allen Hähnen
ohne dass meine Mutter etwas vorher einstellen musste.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In der Badewanne war auch eine Dusche
vorhanden.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wir machten so einige
Erfahrungen die für uns ganz neu waren.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Das Haus in dem wir wohnten, gehörte einem Deutschen der aus München ausgewandert war. Unter uns lebte noch ein Deutsches Ehepaar. Das Viertel dort war Deutsch-Italienisch, obwohl die Italiener da ganz anders waren als die Italiener in Italien. Genauso war es mit den Deutschen.</span></span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaiaxefzuATnDgI7l9c_9XLz1M7GoDZhPxueFepQHMowwXksNZKLSq0IGpedr8pgBP2C3x2p14w5j-x4efx970YOW3K1FZClcHx0cnXIEHheN8MA5yKyvs13NSHdGb6V8sGUg4Un3pU37h/s1600/03mominkitchen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="516" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaiaxefzuATnDgI7l9c_9XLz1M7GoDZhPxueFepQHMowwXksNZKLSq0IGpedr8pgBP2C3x2p14w5j-x4efx970YOW3K1FZClcHx0cnXIEHheN8MA5yKyvs13NSHdGb6V8sGUg4Un3pU37h/s640/03mominkitchen.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1965 - meine Mutter in der Küche (mom in the kitchen)<br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Lustig war das man die gewaschene nasse Wäsche hinten am
Fenster an eine Leine hing die mit einem Rädchen vom Fenster zum anderen Haus
daneben ging.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Meine Mutter fand das gar
nicht so lustig.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Auch an die Fenster
musste sie sich gewöhnen, die schob man nämlich von unten nach oben und sie
ließen sich nicht wie die deutschen Fenster nach innen öffnen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Kein einfacher Job wenn man seine Fenster
putzen wollte.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwHtmNktD9P1aVLu2pmZXe04wZZKB7pEGvAmX8bqhooLW7JM84Wcjlmkb_tG8nSQfGnTmi93Pz0WpKnKkFSzHDdPrEUhVZXRG3LK_k_6KKO6GkmqGb7bA0Ddo4FMPWF95Yk6kNN7d1uJLb/s1600/03Bronxhousehinten.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="481" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwHtmNktD9P1aVLu2pmZXe04wZZKB7pEGvAmX8bqhooLW7JM84Wcjlmkb_tG8nSQfGnTmi93Pz0WpKnKkFSzHDdPrEUhVZXRG3LK_k_6KKO6GkmqGb7bA0Ddo4FMPWF95Yk6kNN7d1uJLb/s640/03Bronxhousehinten.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1965 - unsere Wohnung oben und im hinteren Bereich (our apartment upstairs and in the back)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Auch waren die Straßen viel breiter und größer als ich es
von Deutschland kannte.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eigentlich war
alles größer, vor allem die Lebensmittelmärkte.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Bei unserem ersten Einkauf konnte meine Mutter gar nicht glauben dass
alleine die Obstabteilung schon so groß war wie das kleine Lebensmittelgeschäft
in welchen sie in Würzburg immer eingekauft hatte.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wir kamen uns vor wie in einem
Schlaraffenland, aber wie es immer im Leben ist, man gewöhnt sich schnell an
solche Dinge und möchte sie im Nachhinein nicht mehr missen.</span><br />
<br />
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<o:p><span style="font-family: "calibri";"></span></o:p><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK-A5fgVDYEyny4Uz_RhbRccVzgn02zjEmLId1ZLjftvLICOEYAoRspyCOBLWrOwpSL1i_3cG3bkxCqT2Oiv-sdXWVgtPUtGJVTVLKkRwroa_09lt2wuRmliDQAKk9y_DQELIuv4RBBhxs/s1600/03bronxtremont.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="630" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK-A5fgVDYEyny4Uz_RhbRccVzgn02zjEmLId1ZLjftvLICOEYAoRspyCOBLWrOwpSL1i_3cG3bkxCqT2Oiv-sdXWVgtPUtGJVTVLKkRwroa_09lt2wuRmliDQAKk9y_DQELIuv4RBBhxs/s640/03bronxtremont.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1965 - East Tremont Avenue, Bronx</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"></span><br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"></span></span><br /></div>
<div align="center">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">***************************</span></span></div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">The move
from Würzburg to the Bronx was a big step...and a big change.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had lived in a section of houses that had
been built after the war and the rooms in those buildings were very small.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had a kitchen in which we practically
lived, one bedroom and a tiny living room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>My grandfather lived in the living room until the day he died.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And now, all of a sudden we lived in a place
that had two bedrooms, a big living room and a kitchen with a fridge and
freezer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That was something that we did
not have in Germany.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And hot water came
right out of the faucet without my mother having to turn on the heater hanging
over the sink.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The bathtub also had a
shower and we had some real new experiences. The house was owned by a German man from Munich. Below us lived another German couple. The neighborhood was German-Italian. The Italians living there were totally different than the Italians living in Italy, exactly as were the Germans living in the Bronx.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">I thought
it was funny that the wash was hung out of the window on a line that you had to
pull.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mother didn't think that that
was funny at all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The same went for the
windows that you had to push up to open them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In Germany they open into the room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It sure was a chore to clean the windows in the Bronx.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghPA9lgftH7j2SAfliYprOxFiDxOOi8pLtyizaWam8mGCJ5EnymBmAxLqxNoGENoOO0xEAB0-9UJayjtS4OzYOlbxdvsNWLpfq2rWklxsw96nMzN3iBQQ_at2I0xvv2xS5QoPefKqbVVCQ/s1600/03bronx2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="628" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghPA9lgftH7j2SAfliYprOxFiDxOOi8pLtyizaWam8mGCJ5EnymBmAxLqxNoGENoOO0xEAB0-9UJayjtS4OzYOlbxdvsNWLpfq2rWklxsw96nMzN3iBQQ_at2I0xvv2xS5QoPefKqbVVCQ/s640/03bronx2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1965 - East Tremont Ave </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">The roads
were much wider than the once I was used to in our old town.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, everything was bigger than I was used
to, especially the super markets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will
never forget our first shopping trip.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My
mother gasped when she saw the section where the fruit and veggies were
sold.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just that part of the store was
bigger than the whole shop where she bought her groceries before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But as everything in life, you get used to
these comfortable things and you don't want to do without them anymore.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
Giselahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08172991350250847199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8839135036847072502.post-48968581076731196392016-09-13T14:19:00.001-07:002016-09-13T14:20:46.761-07:002. The arrival - Die Ankunft<br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Damals stiegen wir noch nicht direkt am Terminal aus,
sondern vom Flugzeug eine Treppe hinunter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Und als wir zum Flughafen liefen, konnten wir
am Aussichtsturm winkende Personen sehen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Es gab keine Security wie heutzutage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wenn man jemanden abholte, konnte man direkt
die Leute sehen bevor sie überhaupt durch den Zoll gelangten.</span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Für mich war das alles wie in einem Rausch, mein Onkel samt
Familie und George waren zum Flughafen gekommen um uns zu holen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mein Onkel hatte damals 3 Jungs (später
wurden es 4).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOs7szvps_pRM4BmO_mQfHlDE1EGy56oPn9O3P1Pc-lW7B25pzGrT14_KDwSKCcPTTbh2UipCB3iiNjddKZw8eAVCB7WGS8ZXDckDba_H8ulVk1ZhAFS8wFQAltZx79sCevKF2hLuxyFAx/s1600/02adambarbfamily.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="489" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOs7szvps_pRM4BmO_mQfHlDE1EGy56oPn9O3P1Pc-lW7B25pzGrT14_KDwSKCcPTTbh2UipCB3iiNjddKZw8eAVCB7WGS8ZXDckDba_H8ulVk1ZhAFS8wFQAltZx79sCevKF2hLuxyFAx/s640/02adambarbfamily.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Uncle Adam, Aunt Barbara, Paul, Fred and Steven</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Ja, und da war ich..... in der Bronx und 15 Jahre alt. .<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>George hatte die Wohnung in der Philip Avenue
neben der East Tremont in der Bronx eingerichtet und ich hatte zum allerersten
Mal mein eigenes Zimmer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Manchmal wenn
ich das Foto ansehe, muss ich grinsen, denn meine Mutter nähte einen Vorhang um
mein Bett herum, so richtig nach deutscher Art, denn wir hatten in Würzburg um
die Couch genauso einen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6pKo7s7ET4c4DWzc8-7u7L3hhYA2B5hBIskD7sAPKS2j08cyKZuGJq5wxy5olGT1GHbSGHjV7h3NoDJJSL1pqBLHUPiP6225syKXaFNicVK2FObUN68E3eUccZXGn6VtTtSJ4sW7GOwCt/s1600/02tremontavefront1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6pKo7s7ET4c4DWzc8-7u7L3hhYA2B5hBIskD7sAPKS2j08cyKZuGJq5wxy5olGT1GHbSGHjV7h3NoDJJSL1pqBLHUPiP6225syKXaFNicVK2FObUN68E3eUccZXGn6VtTtSJ4sW7GOwCt/s640/02tremontavefront1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Philip Avenue</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Die erste Nacht aber verbrachte ich bei meinem Onkel und
meiner Tante in der Mayflower Avenue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Dort lernte ich dann auch gleich meine anderen neuen Cousins und
Cousinen kennen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>George's Bruder, mein
neuer Onkel Bob, hatte damals 5 Kinder (später waren es 6).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Amerikanische Familien sind kinderreicher
gewesen als die Deutschen zu der Zeit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Und
so begann mein neues Leben......</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">(Fortsetzung folgt)</span><br />
<br />
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<o:p><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Way back
then we didn't dock at the Arrival Building. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We departed the plane down the stairs and
walked to the building.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In those days
the security wasn't as strict as it is today and so we could see the people
waiting for the passengers standing on the balcony of the Arrival Building and
many of them were waving frantically.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">The whole
procedure was like a dream to me, customs, my relatives waiting for us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My uncle and his family plus George had come
to the airport to get us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Uncle Adam had
three boys then (later there were 4).<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3aVSs0pA7_VvLcDyN5wDXnj43LR1q_U9KlSz4TMuWcJ2hJWDH-pEgAsdoIXJIGUuR2XAQXa-FRfRJoaFmKIrwueHyBIm3SF51TB8QDwn_iycHVJBKnKfCusWHync2YkZsBzsliI4-CI7E/s1600/02straubandfamilybronx.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="494" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3aVSs0pA7_VvLcDyN5wDXnj43LR1q_U9KlSz4TMuWcJ2hJWDH-pEgAsdoIXJIGUuR2XAQXa-FRfRJoaFmKIrwueHyBIm3SF51TB8QDwn_iycHVJBKnKfCusWHync2YkZsBzsliI4-CI7E/s640/02straubandfamilybronx.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Uncle Adam, George's parents and Uncle Bob</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">And here I
was..... in the Bronx, 15 years old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>George had fixed up an apartment for us on
Philip Avenue, off East Tremont in the Bronx.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was the first time I had a room all to myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes when I look at the photo, I have to
smile.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mother sewed this curtain to
hang around the bed, just like we had in Germany around our couch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It must have been a German thing during those
times. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9zJ9TfwsaY1vRhU_klxfsWk-56uBnKjOtBShZI6G5zZmZL9Dhskir3rwBqI_pLZr56tV71E5PwLSmW4lT8mGwzkb0M3U49bmTEWe4fS4SbdDxQo254p_GShGQqnnNHyXs6bLQxhzddPb_/s1600/02tremontmyroom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="636" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9zJ9TfwsaY1vRhU_klxfsWk-56uBnKjOtBShZI6G5zZmZL9Dhskir3rwBqI_pLZr56tV71E5PwLSmW4lT8mGwzkb0M3U49bmTEWe4fS4SbdDxQo254p_GShGQqnnNHyXs6bLQxhzddPb_/s640/02tremontmyroom.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">The first
night I spent at my uncle's house on Mayflower Avenue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There I got to meet all my other new
cousins.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>George's brother, uncle Bob hat
5 children then (later 6).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>American
families had so many more children than German families had during those
years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And so began my new life.........<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD3PI6soz67PhACuVAghcfHnmasySo4xbTGBggMYB1kRkqrOyil_eO80b0mra-ZvY_jp0qXEFUvEcPPtnmRziO_Gk1FiByCd8Gxo56YpXtJfSewnKZiEEXamPaoCvrQMfgJ62ccFhPDvJN/s1600/02mayflowerave.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD3PI6soz67PhACuVAghcfHnmasySo4xbTGBggMYB1kRkqrOyil_eO80b0mra-ZvY_jp0qXEFUvEcPPtnmRziO_Gk1FiByCd8Gxo56YpXtJfSewnKZiEEXamPaoCvrQMfgJ62ccFhPDvJN/s640/02mayflowerave.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mayflower Avenue</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">(to be
continued)<o:p></o:p></span></span>Giselahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08172991350250847199noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8839135036847072502.post-90340674058669741192016-09-04T12:06:00.005-07:002016-09-04T12:13:18.557-07:00So hat alles begonnen - that is how it started<br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Heute ist ein ganz besonderer Tag für mich..... ich lebe
genauso lange in Deutschland wie ich in USA gelebt habe, nämlich jeweils 33
Jahre.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Am 4. September 1965, also vor 51
Jahren bin ich mit meiner Mutter in die USA gezogen und dies ist meine
Geschichte:</span></div>
<br />
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<o:p><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Ich war 7 Jahre alt als mein Vater während einer Operation
gestorben ist.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Meine Mutter blieb
alleine bis sie 1962 George kennen lernte.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>George (ein Amerikaner) war ein Freund von meinem Onkel der damals schon
in den USA lebte.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Als George beschloss,
eine Reise nach Deutschland zu unternehmen, erzählte mein Onkel ihm von seiner
Schwester und er solle sie doch mal besuchen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Ich weiß nicht, ob mein Onkel da schon Hintergedanken hatte, aber George
hat meine Mutter besucht und es war Liebe auf den ersten Blick.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGvBUpendYHFu7XQZpPdI9ahZNxICQXblcF5gP77E7jh8y8i_dixf8E7qhNLgmaPrhHoBvxL2UV8f0VQi2TD34GE2DnNkOGICEAAXXnV6sw5b0If5DkjBQOocZsoHPo_8R-o0GHqkePzt8/s1600/65+George+und+Gertrud.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="491" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGvBUpendYHFu7XQZpPdI9ahZNxICQXblcF5gP77E7jh8y8i_dixf8E7qhNLgmaPrhHoBvxL2UV8f0VQi2TD34GE2DnNkOGICEAAXXnV6sw5b0If5DkjBQOocZsoHPo_8R-o0GHqkePzt8/s640/65+George+und+Gertrud.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>Er kam dann jedes Jahr und beim 3. Mal machte
er meiner Mutter einen Heiratsantrag.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In
der Zwischenzeit schrieben sie sich viele Briefe, die ich immer noch habe und
die ich für meine Mutter dank eines Wörterbuches übersetzen durfte.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Den Englischkurs, zu dem sie mich nämlich
geschickt hatte, den schwänzten meine Freundin Maria und ich öfters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Da waren Pommes essen gehen viel schöner,
während Mutti dachte ich lerne fleißig.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">So kam es dass wir dann am 4. September 1965 in ein Flugzeug
stiegen und nach New York flogen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>George
war indessen wieder in den Staaten und richtete eine Wohnung für uns ein.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wir hatten monatelang mit den Behörden zu
kämpfen damit wir die Ausreisegenehmigung bekamen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mein erstes Passbild habe ich immer noch.</span><br />
<o:p><span style="font-family: "calibri";"></span></o:p><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Es war mein erster Flug überhaupt... und der bekam mir
überhaupt nicht gut.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ich weiß noch, dass
wir unsere beste Kleidung angezogen hatten, damals reiste man noch in
sogenannten Sonntagskleidern.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ich hatte
ein blaues Kostüm mit einer rosa Blusa an.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Und ich musste mich während des Fluges laufend übergeben.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Neben mir saß ein süßer Soldat der mir sofort
zeigte wo diese "Kotzbeutel" sind und mir den Rücken rieb.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wäre es mir nicht so elend gegangen, wäre er
wohl meine erste große heimliche Liebe geworden.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So aber war es mir egal, ich wollte einfach
wieder sicheren Boden unter mir haben.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Und dann sind wir endlich gelandet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ich vergesse nie wie heiß und schwül die Luft
war die uns nach dem Öffnen der Türen entgegen schlug.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>New York machte gerade eine Hitzewelle mit
und wir waren mit unseren Jacken aus dem damals schon kalten Deutschland weg
gegangen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
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<o:p><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> </span></o:p><span style="font-family: "calibri";">(Fortsetzung folgt)</span></div>
<br />
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<o:p><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</span></o:p></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Today is a
special day for me........ <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am living
in Germany just as long as I have lived in the USA, exactly 33 years in each
country.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was 51 years ago, Sept. 4th,
1965 that my mother and I boarded a plane to take us to New York and this is my
story:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><o:p><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> </span></o:p></span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">I was seven
years old when my father died in a hospital during an operation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mother stayed<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>single until 1962 when she met George.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>George (an American) was a friend of my uncle
Adam.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Adam (my mother's brother) had
lived in New York<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>for a long time
already and when he found out that George was travelling to Germany to buy a
VW, he said to him that he should go and visit my mom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I really don't know if my uncle was trying to
play cupid at that time, but it worked, because as soon as George saw my mom,
they fell in love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He came to visit
every year and during the 3rd year of his stay with us, he proposed to my
mom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>During all those years they wrote
lots of love letter s to each other which I had to translate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thank God for dictionaries, we had no
computers in those days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mother had
sent me to take an English class, but I played hooky many times, instead of
learning I went to eat french fries with my best friend Maria.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">So it came
that we moved to New York on Sept. 4th, 1965.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>George had already gotten a place for all of us to live.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He just waited until we had all the
immigration processing behind us and got the permission to live in the United
States.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I still have my passport photo
that was used for my first passport.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxvdNXwuPg3RDMK6O0XJfZKvNVRBpQ2uVl6tfg0lNcXJ6a4DxxDH9EoVo8gviMvr7YJrMULt1XjMPtTPONsjyCUznwpj83MMSWdbrVNw7EIFG2PVpPiJycudAqxsWR8vQKXvuV5CbpEvbA/s1600/1965+passfoto.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxvdNXwuPg3RDMK6O0XJfZKvNVRBpQ2uVl6tfg0lNcXJ6a4DxxDH9EoVo8gviMvr7YJrMULt1XjMPtTPONsjyCUznwpj83MMSWdbrVNw7EIFG2PVpPiJycudAqxsWR8vQKXvuV5CbpEvbA/s320/1965+passfoto.jpg" width="222" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><o:p><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> </span></o:p></span></div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">It was my
first flight ever........<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and it was
awful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I vomited constantly and felt
really sick.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In those days people
dressed up when they travelled and we wore our "Sundays best"
outfits.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember that my skirt and
jacket were light blue and the blouse was a light pink.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And next to me sat the cutest soldier ever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He showed me where the "throw up"
bags are and rubbed my back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I wasn't
so sick, I would have fell in love with him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But at that point I just wanted to have safe ground under my legs again.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Then we
finally landed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will never forget how
hot and humid it was when the plane doors opened up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>New York had one of its heat waves and we wore
heavy jackets because it had been cool in Germany already. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">(to be
continued)<o:p></o:p></span></span>Giselahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08172991350250847199noreply@blogger.com0