Tag: Family
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ALONE IN HOTEL QUARANTINE
As Padma, Joseph and I hit the tarmac at the Perth International Airport on Tuesday night we knew our real adventure was only about to begin. The dreaded forced hotel quarantine awaited us. We had read online of so many experiences of Aussies in quarantine; so many folks just couldn’t cope with being locked up for 14 days. We had no idea how we’d manage but we had one overriding rule: keep a positive attitude, no matter what. Our first contact with an Australian was with an attendant who handed us…
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THE RETURN TICKET
Three years ago today, I got a bit emotional as I bid farewell to the family home and friends of 22 years. Joseph and I were en route on an epic father/son adventure to the Georgian Caucasus Mountains and after that I was heading off to an even greater adventure – a new job in a new country, all sight unseen. If you gamble, you either win or lose. Three years ago, Padma, Joseph and I gambled everything we had. We sold our beloved home in the Adelaide Hills, packed everything…
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ON TOP OF THE (GERMAN) WORLD
Last Sunday was one of those frigid, yet super clear days that only seem to come around a few times each winter. We were showing Padma’s brother’s family around and were staying with our friends Karl-Heinz and Hiltrud Linke in their little village of Illerbachen. As the sun rose on a very frosty morning, Karl-Heinz pointed to Germany’s highest peak, Zugspitze, from his kitchen window. With visibility like that we just had to head for the summit. Upon arriving at the base of the mountain in Garmisch-Partenkirchen (the site of the…
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DROP IN IF YOU’RE IN THE NEIGHBOURHOOD
Just a few weeks ago I received an email from a genealogist in Switzerland. He found a 1928 photo I posted online of some distant cousins in Wisconsin and wanted some details. I sorted out his enquiries and he was most grateful. He said ‘If you’re ever in the Bernese Alps, drop in.’ I don’t know how many times I’ve heard the ‘if you’re ever in XYZ drop in’ invitation or how many times I’ve said it. I rarely take up the offer and people rarely take up my offer. But…
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WEBERT. OLBERODE. ANCESTRAL HOME.
‘What’s your mother’s maiden name’? How many times have I had to answer that question? ‘Webert,’ I answer. But for most of my life it was only a name. A name I knew nothing about. And a name my mother knew little about. A few years ago I got bitten by the genealogy bug and started researching the Weberts. I didn’t need to do much work because others – Ulrike, Dan, Lou, Jean, etc. – had already done it. I learned from them that the ancestral home of the Weberts is…
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THEY’RE TAKING ME TO MARRAKECH
When I told Padma I was travelling to Morocco for work, she immediately expressed interest in joining me. My official business starts right after the Easter holiday so we decided it would work out nicely that Padma and I could come a bit early for a bit of a holiday. Padma didn’t want to come all the way to Morocco for a four-day trip so she decided to stay and travel on her own while I was busy with my work. But travelling on your own isn’t fun so on a…
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SIX FLOORS, NO ELEVATOR, MOVING DAY IN PARIS
Joseph has lived in Paris for 13 months … and now in four homes. When Joseph announced he was moving in to a new place, Padma and I evoked that unwritten rule which says mom and dad will come with the station wagon to help the university student move. And so we drove to Paris, packed up his stuff in the old place in the south of Paris, braved the central Parisian traffic chaos and eventually landed at his new home in the north. OK. Joe didn’t have to twist our…
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GRANDPA GAUSTAD
For as long as I remember, my mother has flaunted her ‘Norwegian-ness’. Her mother, Gertrude Gaustad, was of full Norwegian stock. So mom has an appetite for lefse but when I would ask her about our Norwegian ancestors she would draw a blank. She didn’t know much except that her grandfather was named Ole, he was blind and had died before she was born. So I set out to find out where we came from in Norway. It took quite a few years but I figured it out. In 1883, a…
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OLAV OF BYNESET
I hit a brick wall once. A genealogical brick wall, that is. For five years I had been trying to find out where my great grandfather, Ole Erickson Gaustad, came from. I was getting nowhere and figured I’d never find out. But one night in 2007, I was Googling ‘Gaustad’ and the village where I thought he was born, ‘Byneset’ and I got a hit. I found a function centre with Gaustad in the name so I took a chance and wrote an email. Within a day I got an email…
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