Spending three weeks on vacation in northern Europe—mostly Amsterdam and Berlin—made me think about the ways we can pretty easily live a little “smaller.” Europeans live in smaller spaces, use less stuff, and reuse much more. They don’t seem as obsessed with green and sustainable as I thought they might be, but it could just be they don’t shout about it as much. They just do it, as they have been for years. For instance:

Bikes are a main form of transportation. Everybody has one, sturdy and utilitarian. In the city, bike paths are ubiquitous. And they aren’t in the road—they typically run between the sidewalk and parked cars. Makes it safer (for cyclists, anyway; I found it a bit perilous as a pedestrian).

Lights for public areas are on timers that switch off after 10 minutes. I’ve wondered for years why we don’t use these in our own apartment and office buildings.

Smaller appliances are the norm, like fridges that hold a week’s worth of groceries (or less) and washing machines that are smaller and front-loading. Air-drying clothes is common, and even families with children don’t always have a clothes dryer. (This is based on very limited observation.)

None of this is news to anyone who’s been abroad, but the climate change imperative threw it into sharp relief for me. In the bigger scheme of things, I also noticed that wind power is taking hold. Old windmills are an icon of the Netherlands, but new wind turbines are also becoming a part of the landscape. I saw some wind farms but was most impressed by the fact that many farms have their own wind turbines. In the northern part of the country it was amazing to see ancient farmhouses coupled with new turbines.

On the transportation front, cars are much smaller overall than on this side of the pond, but I still saw a lot of big SUV-type vehicles, and diesel is in wide general use. On the upside, most filling stations I saw sold biodiesel, and I saw not a few natural gas vehicles and fueling stations.

Finally, I spent my time away without my own computer or cell phone. And since the Iceland volcano kept me in Berlin an extra six days, I was almost unconnected for over three weeks. It was a little freaky, especially toward the end. But ultimately it felt great. Without electronic ties to where I came from, I felt more a part of where I was.

I usually blog about bigger-picture communications strategy issues, but my alter ego the Grammar Queen has been fighting to get out over the weird obsession with word repetition.

We hear from clients all the time, when reviewing all kinds of writing—articles, marketing copy, taglines—”But isn’t it bad to repeat a word?” Sometimes it is. Sometimes it’s good. And sometimes it just doesn’t matter.

I suspect that confusion on this points stems from a misunderstanding about why word repetition is sometimes bad. It’s not necessarily that repeated words make for monotonous writing (though they certainly can); it’s that repeated words often signal hazy ideas. Here’s a a simple example: The sentence, “We had a great meal at this great restaurant in a great neighborhood,” is obviously lame. Many people would think the way to fix it is to find synonyms for great. But is “We had a great meal at this excellent restaurant in a fabulous neighborhood” really any better? (Hint: no.) That’s because word repetition here is only a symptom of the real problem. “We had a great meal at this new restaurant in my favorite neighborhood” is a better expression of the thought because the new adjectives are not synonyms—they’re more precise information.

If you read something that repeats words and seems bland and uninformative, it’s usually not because the writer failed to use a thesaurus; more likely they failed to think through what they wanted to say and communicate that precisely.

When is word repetition good? When you want to convey the same information about different things: “Great for kids. Great for parents.” When you want to emphasize a subject: “It was the most fabulous shoe I’d ever seen. It was the shoe of my dreams.” (Substituting footwear for the second shoe would only drain the ardor.) Or when you want to create a transition: “The rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain. That plain is where two-thirds of Spain’s … .”  (Substituting flatland for plain would not aid comprehension.)

As the Grammar Queen has frequently observed, the first prerequisite of good writing is good thinking.

Do a survey about attitudes on any sustainability topic and it will get reported. And commented upon. And tweeted and retweeted. Everyone’s looking for insights on the cultural moment—or something that looks like insights because it has a number attached to it.

But what do surveys (about sustainability or anything else) really tell us? More and more I think, not as much about the people answering the survey as about the people constructing it. Case in point: a recent Rasmussen Reports survey finding that 47 percent of Americans reject the idea that they are selfish for putting economic concerns ahead of the fight against global warming.

What struck me was not the result—hardly a shock, since people don’t like to think of themselves as selfish—but the assumption behind the question: it’s the climate vs. the economy. This is a trope of anti-environmentalism, so perhaps it shouldn’t be surprising, but it’s particularly wrong-headed in this case, since multiple reputable examinations of the issue have found that not addressing climate change is far more costly than acting to curb it. When you know that, the question makes no sense.

Twenty-four percent said they weren’t sure—which reminded me that just about every time I’ve been surveyed, I’ve been asked at least one question I couldn’t answer. Not because I didn’t have an opinion on the issue, but because I rejected the premise of the question.

If you’re conducting a survey and want an honest read on what people are thinking, it’s essential to examine the assumptions behind your questions. Are you closing off the possibility of opinions that don’t conform to your perceptions? And when you’re evaluating survey data, it pays to think as carefully about the questions as you do about the answers. Whose opinion is being reflected here?