Europe Journal Entry #5: Switzerland
I know it’s way overdue, but school has had me bogged up. Believe it or not, this journal is largely unfinished, and I have to finish it. I’m trying to finish it as fast as I can - and believe me, I sure want it done! In any case, enjoy this next entry. Once the whole journal is done I’m going back and doing some massive spell checks. Especially for names like Mr. Dashew. I’m sorry for spelling your name as Mr. Dachau for all this time. ;)
Oh, and happy Jew Year, i.e. Yom Kippur!
July 14, 2006: Road to Switzerland/Engleberg.
Song of the Day: The Final Countdown
It was meant to be a long driving day into a small Swiss town called Engleberg. Which is exactly what we did - drove for quite a long time. Of course we had breakfast first, which was the same as the day before, except this time I sat outside instead of inside with just Piros. Now it was Piros and a few others, like the Ridge girls, who had sat outside yesterday and I didn’t know it.
It wasn’t meant to be incredibly long, but it did take long enough that I wanted to write during it. I found my Bonine, finally, and took some. During the trip to Engleberg I wrote until the battery ran out. This turned out to be only a portion o the Westendorf entry! Perhaps I write too damn much.
At any rate, as soon as we came into Switzerland, John started talking. "Welcome to Switzerland! I hope you’ve been practicing your yodeling!" I hadn’t, of course. Or maybe I had in the Austrian Alps. Yeah, I had. So I was set for Switzerland, right?
John continued on about how there were horrible storms in this area. One mudslide trapped an entire town, including tourists and migratory workers. It also killed many people. Piros told me later that, during that time, he hadn’t even realized that some of his family friends died in those mudslides. Two children and their father, I believe it was, were killed. He went into a bit of shock. This wasn’t until days later, of course, that he realized.
We drove through the mountains and passed a railroad track, which we followed until we couldn’t anymore. Engleberg is a town like that; a town where the road ends. It’s kind of like you’ve reached a barrier, because there’s no more read afterwards, so you can’t very much go anywhere. I wondered how far into the mountains Engleberg was.
We wound up the mountain and entered the village. You can tell that this place is old, but prepared for tourism because of it. We stopped at a small place called the Ramada, but I quickly forgot the exact name (nobody could quite remember it even when we were there). Apparently it was fancy, but I don’t see how such a shoddy place could be fancy. It looked that way from the outside, at least.
The inside was indeed fancy, as were the rooms. We were stuck in quads for this one, which meant we roomed with Matt Zucker and Jeff Jones. The room was incredible. We were on the third floor, to the right side of the elevator and then another right took us down a hallway from there. Since I was the first one there, I got a glimpse at a very nice window with a plant right in front of it. I thought the scene of the plant alone looked like a good photo. But, for good measure, I added my suitcase next to it. It was a nice photo.
I used the funky room key to open the door. The key, instead of having jagged edges determine what opened the door, had various holes in its sides that were random sizes and in random places. It slid in easily and I do not think there was a way to put it in upside down, which made me wish that the rest of the world would adopt this type of key.
The room inside was huge, and only glorified by the fact that it turned out to be two rooms linked. The link was not normal; there was only one TV for each room, and the separation for the “link” was done by closing two of the sliding doors which were placed in odd places that didn’t quite make for a straight wall. The sliding doors were heavy; you knew that they were walls themselves, not just doors. There were two twin-sized beds and a double. Naturally, I claimed one of the twins for myself and waited for the others to show up. This turned out to be a good thing, as Matt and Matt (Piros and Zucker) had decided they wanted to sleep together before they’d made it to the room. They probably assumed the room would have two double beds instead of what it actually had.
There was also this really cool light above the table on the side with the doubles bed. It came up and down like some sort of periscope, via a handle on its bottom side. I played around with it until everyone else in the room got annoyed.
As soon as that was done (which was truly only a matter of ten minutes) it was set that we had free time to wander the town and shop. After that would be dinner, which was also set to have alp horn entertainment.
There was an internet cafe next to our hotel. The hotel had internet for the same rate, I found out later. That rate was 4 Swiss franks for 15-19 minutes, which also meant that I had to exchange some of my money. Instead of exchanging, I just withdrew some from my debit card as Francs. The bills look really neat, because they have diagrams of scientific stuff on one side and pictures of cool people on the other in bumpy fancy eye candy-ish graphics. Swiss know how to design some cool money, I’ll give them that.
Everyone was looking for Swiss Army Knives. Victorinox is the brand that makes the true knives, as I take it. Other smaller brands say that theirs is the original, but I believe Victorinox for their excellent quality and wide range of options. No other company offers that.
I looked t some, but they were real expensive, even for Francs. I decided use the internet first which meant abandoning the people I was with.
Brent and I both went to use internet together, actually. He paid for ten minutes. After he as of, the person after him, (who wasn’t SUPPOSED to be after him) "let" me go online. i wet for exactly 18 minutes, updating my blog saying that I was safe ad having a good time. I checked my email and responded to every one since on except Frances’s, which seemed to have been sent earlier than my father’s death.
Once that was over with I picked myself up and left to wander alone throughout the town. It was getting kind of dark and dim, and I understood that the staff had expected rain today, but it wasn’t raining just yet.
I found a group with Jeff and company. They were wandering around, and although they had already looked at Swiss Army Knives, I went with them. Jeff ended up talking to a stranger from the states. The man was from Ohio, or Idaho, or something like that. He said he’d been in Europe for about a month and said that Engleberg is the most expensive place he’s been in. I thought there was something odd about him, like he may be a thief or something, but Jeff continued to talk as if it were no big deal. What a moron!
I wanted to get him and his blonde bearded mid-20’s-year-old face out of our hair, so I said we were leaving to walk the street. I left, but Jeff stayed behind to continue talking! We kept walking to see if he would come. A long ways up the street, we decided he was too stupid to be helped and walked back to get him away. He was still talking when we got there.
We all told him we w ere leaving, and after arguing that we wanted to leave he said good-bye to the man and we left. I tried to explain to him why that mean could have been a thief, but he didn’t get it. "He’s an American," Jeff said.
So now every American is an innocent man?
"No," he said. "But he said he’s been here for a month. He seemed decent and nice, not like a thief."
You can’t get any more stupid than that. I told him that thieves are generally nice to you before they steal your shit. Like my Driver’s Ed teacher, and ho a nice French man took her out to dinner and everything, and at the end of the day he took her picture and ran away with the camera.
"If he was a thief, he would have been deported while ago since he’s been here a month." Bullshit. Not if he didn’t get caught, I say. However, Jeff proved to still be stubborn. I continued following the group until we dispersed and it began to rain a bit. The town was getting dark very quickly (which John pointed out was unfortunate), so I walked up the street we had begun walking up before, being wary of the blonde "thief". He never showed up, but I did find Piros, who was looking at watches in a window. I asked him if he was going to get a Swiss Army Knife. He said he already got one, and that down the street in the opposite direction I was going, passed our hotel for about two blocks on the left is the knife shop where all of AMA is conglomerating at and buying knives.
I thanked him and walked off. Before I got far, I ran into the Ridge girls. Hannah didn’t seem to want to do what the others were doing, so I invited her to come buy a knife, which she seemed to want to do. Even so she stayed with the Ridge girls, which I don’t quite understand, but to each her own.
I passed the hotel and walked down on that side of the road. Eventually I came to a shop with light coming out the door, and I saw kids my age inside. This was obviously the knife shop, as it had a large display with many different types of knives. I started looking at them. It took me a good long time to decide which knife to get, but I absolutely had to get one. I bought the one for 39 Francs. It has a large knife, a small knife, a nail file, scissors, a bottle opener, a screw driver, a can opener, a universal hook, a leather puncture, and more that I don’t remember. And it’s pretty small, too. There were some seriously huge ones that were madly expensive.
As I’d been told, I had the option to get it engraved. The clerk asked me to write down my name, so I wrote "Jason Rappaport." They said they would only engrave the first name, so I crossed out my last name. Oh well.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t get the knife back until "after dinner." I didn’t know what or when "after dinner" was, but I agreed I would come back after the tour’s dinner and pick up the engraved knife.
Because free time was running drastically thin, I walked back to the hotel. It had begun to rain incredibly heavily, so I got soaked. Before I went into the hotel I asked Mr. Owens, who was standing just outside, if we would be allowed out after dinner to pick up the knives. Not knowing anything about what was going on, I explained it to him. He told me to ask the man at the store exact what he meant, and what times he would be open the next morning.
I ran and got even further wet, since it was raining harder than before, if that’s possible. The man told me that everything was set up especially for our tour; he knew about our dinner and everything. Everything was special, just for us. I smiled and thanked him, and told Mr. Owens, who said that we would probably, if not definitely then get to go out and pick up the engraved knives after dinner.
Lots of people were at the hotel doing nothing. They’d probably come in from the rain. I didn’t want to be one of the people doing nothing, but the hotel was small, even though the rooms were big. I went back to our room.
Piros had hung up laundry. It seemed that everyone had already finished what they wanted to do outside and had been back for quite some time. I decided to hang up laundry as well before dinner. We still had at least half an hour until dinner was set to begin. I had heard some people talking about a pool in the basement level. After hanging laundry, which was harder than I thought, working around Piros’s clothing, I changed into my bathing suit and headed towards the elevator. When I asked Piros if I should wear my shirt down to the pool area, he said, “Of course you should. You can’t go walking around in a hotel like it’s your own house.”
I wore my shirt to the pool.
The pool was indeed in a basement. Rather, it looked like a basement until you turned to the right and noticed there was a wall of frosted glass protecting you from the pool. I followed the walkway and entered the pool area, where I was met by a familiar face. I took off my shirt and placed it on a chair. Every chair was full, and it was incredibly loud.
I was being told not to go into the pool. I turned around and saw that it was somebody I knew; somebody I knew but still didn’t know his name. I’d kept confusing him with someone else. I just acted as if I knew him better than that.
Apparently if I went in the pool I was more likely to be maimed or killed than have a good time. There was no lifeguard, and half of the tour was in the pool roughhousing. He was right – it would be a death sentence to go in there, not to mention that the water was cold.
Not being able to check out the pool without risking my life, I checked out the mysterious back hallway just opposite the pool. I didn’t know where it went, but people were coming out of there with snowballs and hitting people with them. Snowballs in summer! I don’t know where they got them, but I was up for some snowball fights. The path led me to a hot room where the German Couple were preparing to have their feet soaked in hot water.
It was a spa. The spa we hadn’t gone to in Abano Terme.
In front of me were hot foot baths in an equally hot room. To my right were two saunas, one wet and one dry. To my left was another room that was colder, presumed to be a relaxing room where you could sit on a chair and lay back. To my left again, but making another left after that, was a room with showers in it. But these were strange showers. The room itself was like a maze, because the shower walls jutted out and blocked your view, even thought there was really only one main path through the room.
Your first right was a special dead end, though. The dead end had snow coming out of a pipe in the lowered ceiling, landing in a large metal bowl. It was obviously crushed up ice, but it was pretty darn close to snow. I picked up a handful and spread it on myself. It felt nice in the hot rooms.
As I wandered the shower area I saw that various men were actually taking sowers naked in plain sight. I looked away until I came to the end of the room, which had some kind of exotic rain-based shower with lights and everything. You adjusted the lights: Whether you wanted “Tropical Rain” or “Fresh”, when the shower started “raining” from the ceiling through the 2 ½ foot in diameter rain-making showerhead that was literally part of the ceiling, three lights around the showerhead turned green or yellow. The entire shower got sound effects as well. It was quite interesting. I preferred the green shower to the yellow one.
I’d had enough showers. I wanted to try out one of the saunas. I’d never been in one before. I stuck my head in the wet sauna by opening the glass door. It was really hot inside, and the mist that floated around tasted like detergent. I began coughing right away, and pulled my head out immediately. I tried the dry sauna. The wooden handle was hot, and so was the glass door. That one had air that hurt your throat, it was so hot. I began coughing once again, and pulled my head out.
I turned to the German Couple. They weren’t soaking their feet so much as relaxing now. The girl had left. I spoke about how much I wanted to try out a sauna, but that the heat in the main room was far more comfortable than in the steamy saunas. “I’ll do it, though!” I said, determined to enter one and stay in it.
Every time I tried the people inside told me not to open the door. It was the dry sauna that generally had people inside, not the wet one. I assumed people were discouraged by the detergent mist. Many people who I assumed had never felt the inside of a sauna were coughing upon entry of the wet sauna.
Eventually I worked up the guts to go into the dry sauna once and for all. I wished good luck and, along with a few others, stepped inside the sauna. It was blazing hot, and I was coughing once again, but I toughed it out and made sure I stayed in. Some other girls were coughing, too. There were about six or so people in the dry sauna, all either complaining about the heat or praising it. I grew to like it. When people opened the glass door, I too began to complain about the terrible cold draft that flew in.
I sat on the far side of the room, which was large and Japanese-looking, its benches made from wood bars that were totally wet. The room had a debate over whether it was water from the pool or water from perspiration that lined the benches - it was settled that it was sweat. Though slightly grossed out, I continued to enjoy my time in there. To my right was a thermometer and timer, showing how long you were supposed to stay in. It was a fifteen minute timer, meaning that after fifteen minutes it would probably be a health risk to stay in the sauna. I flipped it over and let the hour glass run, because it hadn’t been keeping time.
Across from me were hot coals and a pale full of cool water. I decided, out of curiosity, to pour some of the water on t coals to see how much steam would be generated. Quite a bit came out. To be honest, I was most curious because I’d seen people do it in anime, and it looked fun to watch all the steam come out and engulf the whole people inside.
Eventually, after the conversation about nothing with the whole crew in the dry sauna, I moved to the wet sauna, even more curious of that. It was freezing outside the room, so I transferred saunas very quickly. Luckily they were right next to each other. Someone was in the wet sauna already - some I knew. It was the kid with the weed necklace, whom everyone hates. He had declared the spot in the corner of he wet sauna, which was much smaller than the dry sauna yet much more psychedelic, for his own. I said that this was fine, and I sat down coughing from the detergent air. Eventually I got used to it, just like I did the dry sauna. In fact, I liked it even more.
I spent the rest of probably fifteen to twenty minutes in the sauna. People came in and out. I got the corner for myself, and was able to lie on the tiled seat with my legs spread in front of me, watching the lights on the ceiling change in the mist. Some people from the dry sauna came over and said watching the ceiling would be better if they were high, or that watching the ceiling as like being high. I forget which, but I doubt there’s much difference between the two. The room, however, was very cleansing and relaxing, but I daren’t fall asleep.
I did go back to the dry sauna once, but just for a short while, and then I went back to the wet sauna. Some girls came in as well, and then we all left because it was almost dinner time. However, I was sick of being covered in detergent water. I, this girl who addressed her name to me but I forget it (it was probably Kate or Jen, like most girls I seem to know), and some other guy all showered together under the rainforest shower. I remember the girl making the comment, "I’ve never showered with a guy before!" I probably remember it because not only was it funny, it was remarkably true. Anywhere else, this would b unacceptable unless the girl and I were in an intimate relationship or something. We weren’t naked, but all aside the point: For the first time, it felt like we were doing some crazy and forbidden, because we were on a trip alone. It was fun just because of that.
Before leaving I showed them the snow in the shower room, and we hit each other with snowballs once, and then left. It was almost time r dinner, so I needed to rush. I dried myself off with a towel and ran around wondering where to put them. I found a dirty towel slot underneath where I had found the towel originally; right next to the saunas. Also before leaving, I tried the hot foot bath. It was rather nice, but not as hot as I thought it would be. I was freezing from getting out of the saunas though, even if the wet was not as hot as the dry, so it was acceptable. I gathered my stuff, put my shirt on remembering what Piros has once told me, took a last look at the now-empty pool by scanning the area and looking at the single (so it wasn’t QUITE empty) person in it, and headed out of the room and into the elevator. Oh, and I stood in the middle of the little stream that went into the pool. Yes, there was a little waterfall that went down the wall and then through a metal shoot into the pool. It, too, was covered in lights like the wet sauna, the lights changing to different rainbow-y colors every few moments with a smooth transition.
When I got to the room, people were watching TV and looking at their Swiss Army Knives and Cards. I had a few minutes. I took off my bathing suit in the bathroom and put on normal clothes, which I had left on top of my suitcase by the bed. I hung my bathing suit up to dry, hoping that if anything was going to dry, that would be it. After looking at Matt Zucker’s Swiss army card, examining its contents, as well as playing with the periscope-style lamp, we all headed down.
The room was behind the elevator, where two sets of double-doors made the dining room seem very open. Inside was a lavish yet spacious dining room filled with tables set for the tour. I entered through the left double-door, and there was the Ridge Crew sitting in the far left corner of the room. I went over, sat down next to Hannah and Piros, and we began to have a good time, talking and joking around.
Piros and I began to play with the candle on the table, waving our hands over it. The other people at the table asked us to stop, but I kept going once more over the fire. I was amazed that I could pass the hand through it and not get burned – it was incredible! Unfortunately, after that last time, I accidentally hit the glass that Hannah was holding and knocked it all over her. I apologized over and over again while the whole table laughed. Eventually Hannah and I began laughing hysterically as well. The whole table was filled with laughter for quite a few minutes after the actual incident, and I kept laughing even after that.
Dinner was going to be served soon. It took an incredibly long time for it to get to our table, so we waited patiently, making small talk and such like that. While we waited, a boy who was on our coach actually came out as being homosexual. Eugene, which there would eventually be a fight over the emphasis on the pronunciation of his name, was gay. His table planned a whole choreographed song for it. They were clapping and singing; the whole ordeal was very cheesy, but hilarious. Our table joined in and walked over, where the girls at the table were showing us how they did their choreographed claps and the boys were having fun acting gay. The whole table wasn’t gay, but they were having a great time, and nobody hated Eugene for coming out. In fact, it was turned into a celebration.
We complained about dinner taking so long, but stayed amused nevertheless. Buckley broke his crystal glass after lifting it up and putting it back down, and we laughed at that too. He made sad faces and was deathly scared to approach a waiter and tell them he’d broken a glass. He did it in the end, though, and they took the glass without saying anything.
Dinner turned out to be – no surprise – chicken and mushy vegetables. It was real grilled chicken, though, in a good sauce and everything, making it one of our more fancy meals of the trip. They began to deliver it to our table (the real reason it took so long was because we were on the opposite end of the room from the kitchen, and they serve in order from tables closest to farthest), and just when I was about to get my dinner they stopped serving. I had to wait a while to get mine, and when they came I was starved and happy to eat even wienerschnitzel. At the same time, I was glad it wasn’t actually wienerschnitzel that I was eating.
The chicken was gone almost instantly, but the vegetables remained. Cauliflower was part of the veggie mix, and I had been traumatized from cauliflower during summer camp, when the nasty food was covered in a horrible sauce for the “who can eat the most disgusting shit” fear factor event of the camp. I passed, but nearly vomited on the raw pizza dough and sauce. The cauliflower was the worst of it all. However, I asked around the table whether I should eat it or not, and Hannah convinced me that it was safe and that cauliflower was actually alright tasting, so I ate it. It tasted like broccoli, which isn’t half bad. I ate all of the vegetables that night.
I ate like a madman, because this meal was actually very good; better than most we’d received during the trip. I was done before a lot of people at my table were. I scoured the sauce for little bits of chicken. I, however, was nothing compared to Piros, who has literally cleaned his plate – nothing was left, not even the sauce. You’d have had a hard time knowing food had ever been on there. I bet he was still hungry afterward.
Dinner pretty much proceeded on like that. Eventually everyone was done and Mr. Owens walked to the center of the room and announced what was to come: The alp horn entertainment we’d all been waiting for. However… they were coming immediately! We didn’t have time to leave the room to get things such as glasses and cameras, both of which I needed. I asked Piros if he had the room key, and he said no. Zucker had it. Well, before that I had to ask to make sure it was okay to go up into the room, and I did get the okay from the staff to go up, albeit they said I should rush because I only had a minute or two. I frantically searched for Zucker, who had the key. I must have gone to every damn table in the room, but I couldn’t find him. One of the tables had gotten up completely and moved outside the room, chatting in a circle with each other. When I approached to ask if Zucker was in there, they told me to go away. They must have been discussing something secret. I left them to their secret discussing and went to the elevator: if he had they key, he might have gone to the room.
Luckily, as soon as the elevator door opened, Matt Zucker appeared. I begged him for the key, and he gave it to me, at which point I rushed up to the room as fast as I could and ripped my camera and glasses from their hiding places, ran back down the hall and to the elevator, where I waited impatiently for it to get up to me. I finally got back down and rushed into the room.
The entertainment hadn’t started yet. I sighed in relief and waited. When it did start, I was dismayed: I wasn’t close enough to see them. I moved up along the side wall near the front of the room to get a better view, video camera running and everything.
There were three men playing finely polished horns that were so long and large they extended about six feet in front of them and had to be rested on special holsters. The one in the middle had glasses on, which made him stand out because he looked slightly nerdier and less alpine than the others. It must have taken great skill to play the way they did. The first song they played was a random mountain song that was similar to the one the orchestra had played in Hippach. The second one was even more familiar: they played In the Jungle, the very same from The Lion King. It sounded a little rough around the edges, but it was impressive. They did it with only those three horns and all the breath in their bodies, struggling to hit higher notes. But they did it.
The entire thing was shorter than it needed to be. I was up for a lot of alp horn entertainment. The third song was another random song, and then it was over. Well, not quite over yet. They allowed us to try out the horns and see if we could make noise. One of the orchestra conductors came up and asked how similar to brass instruments it was, or didn’t ask, but stated. Apparently anyone would could play trumpet could play an alp horn; it was interesting. I can’t play trumpet.
Everyone was taking pictures of their friends blowing one of the two alp horns that had been set up nearby the performers. Luckily, where I was standing was directly on the line for one of the horns, so I got to try it out quickly. The boy directly in front of me played something amazing for his first time using an alp horn, but he has openly stated he played brass instruments. I managed to get a random note out of my try. That and a few pictures. I was proud I got anything out the alp horn at all!
When I was done, I watched a few more people play the horns. Incoherent sounds were flying around the room. At the table next to where I was standing, the AMA staff was talking and enjoying the sounds. Mr. Dashew seemed incredibly interested in them. So I asked, “Mr. Dashew, why don’t you go up and try it? I bet you’d have a lot of fun.”
He laughed. “I tried it eleven years ago, and failed miserably.”
Eventually everyone had had their fill of alpine horn blowing and people began to sit and talk again. Mr. Owens moved out to the center just like he had before, and gave a small speech about leaving, going to bed, and getting our Swiss Army Knives from the shops where we bought them. I couldn’t wait to get mine. As soon as we were released to get it, I rushed out the door. Some other people went too, but it seemed like not everyone who had ordered one showed up at the store. Then again, they probably went later than I did.
The clerk asked me for my name when I got there, and I gave it to them happily. I received my Knife promptly, and the clerk showed the engraving to me before putting it in the tiny prism-shaped box. I walked out holding the box, incredibly happy with my purchase. When I get back to the room, everyone else was already there. They were comparing their Knives and Swiss Army Cards, which are basically Swiss Army knives in credit card form. Zucker bought two of them. Jeff had bought a miniature knife, I believe, or perhaps two of them. Piros had bought only miniature knives, two of them – a white one and a blue one – because he already had a full-size knife. He showed it to me. It was beaten and old, obviously used a lot.
“I bring this knife everywhere I go,” he said. I asked him if he took it to school. “Why not?” was his reply. I told him he could get into serious trouble for that. “Dude, I’m not going to get in trouble if I keep it away and only use it for emergencies. That’s what it’s for, and I could never use it otherwise.” I wondered why it was so worn, then. He uses it to chop food and play knife games.
He in fact gave me knife fighting tips that night at the table. “If anyone’s ever rushing at you with a big-ass knife and you want to fight him, or have to fight him, don’t hold your knife like this,” he showed me his hand, holding the Swiss Army Knife, knife tool out and in front of him, the way any normal person would hold a knife. “If you hold it like this, you’re going to end up slashing at things randomly, as well as getting yourself hurt. You have no defense. If you hold it like this, though,” he flipped the knife around, so that the blade now pointed downward towards his wrist and arm, “You can not only slash at your opponent, but defend yourself. And never randomly slash at anything.” The speech went on and on; it eventually turned into a knife game. I refused to participate in the scary act of stabbing the table while one of your hands was laid out flat, moving the knife precariously between fingers hoping to stab yourself instead of the table. I suppose I don’t find the adrenaline rush founded. It seems way too unsafe, and I’m not willing to hurt myself while I’m in Europe.
After that, everyone began to sit down and watch TV, but I was incredibly tired. I said I was going to go to bed, and they all said this was alright, even though we’d planned to watch movies and such. I went to my bed, and Zucker closed the wall-door for me to give me some darkness and quiet. I thanked him, and fell into deeply refreshing sleep next to my Swiss Army Knife.
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