Lightning

Sometimes the weather is downright spectacular in Lyon.  Linus took photos of this massive electric storm the other day.  He caught some lightning directly with long exposure times, but I thought this one where the cloud was illuminated indirectly by lightning within was magical.

April showers

Post April-shower rainbow-glory in Lyon this week

 

We got rained on a lot this April, although we tried our utmost to get away from it. We tried to escape the weather by travelling to Germany over the Easter holidays. It was freezing cold and rainy. We tried England and enjoyed horizontal rain and the strongest gales I have ever seen on the Dorset coast.

But being good Germans (and in order to remain true to all stereotypes), we hiked nevertheless. For safety reasons, Lucy had to carry our heavy rucksack with the picnic to prevent her getting blasted away… I am still grateful that we booked ourselves a family room in the local YHA instead of going camping. I think we would have had a Dorothy-like wizard of Oz experience had we put up the tent. Or just a huge family fallout because I would have been utterly miserable stuck in a tent on a wet and windy campsite…

Not having been to England for 2 years, it was an interesting experience. While I found most things so positive and refreshing in the UK — the people we visited (most of all I guess), the language, the general attitude and the shopping(!!!) to name but a few, I found others oddly strange: Everything is still familiar, but we don’t seem to belong there any more. The kids on the other hand just embraced the present and enjoyed England. Lucy had a whale of a time with her friends and would have gladly moved back to Ascot straight away. Linus was a bit more skeptical — he enjoyed being with his friends but sees the downside of living in a small place that does not offer much for teenagers who don’t own a car. He definitely prefers Lyon in that respect.

We’re  hoping to see the lovely people from England again soon, be it here or there. I know some of you follow the blog, so again a big, fat, juicy and cordial THANK YOU for putting us up, for feeding and watering us, and, most of all, for the wonderful time we spent with you!

Inspired by YouTube

 

I had a moment of true YouTube happiness yesterday!   (Maybe I am a bit slow to catch up on that, but still, for me it was an inspiring discovery. So if you already appreciate YouTube as a great source for academic knowledge you need read no further, unless  you  like reading our blog …).

I am in the midst of writing my PhD proposal. For anybody who has never done that sort of thing, I can assure you it’s a pain in the neck. You go through the motions of asking yourself WHY on earth you bring this kind of thing onto yourself and HOW your brain can go so fuzzy with information-cramming.

Some of the questions I have been asking myself in the past few days are:

• Is my brain not working properly?
• Is this normal?
• Isn’t there better (more fun) stuff to do in life?

The answer to all these questions is probably ‘yes’. Still, I am plodding on, because after all it’s interesting and fascinating to immerse yourself deeply into a topic. You read, for example, a paper on methodological issues, and  and universe after universe of discussion, topics and controversies opens up. Fascinating, mind blowing and, above all, time consuming…

But let me talk about YouTube. I have to date used YouTube mostly to entertain myself with cute cat videos, music clips, Monty Python sketches, or plain rubbish, but yesterday, I discovered it as a source to supplement my academic learning. You see, I am much better at processing information that I hear,  than taking on board stuff that I read.  Still, recently, I have read stacks of papers on epistemological approaches and I got awfully confused with some philosophical concepts. Sometimes things are just too complicated for my tiny brain…So out of despair (and a deep seated need to be entertained by someone), I searched for videos about phenomenology on YouTube. And hey presto, I got lucky. I found a whole series of lectures on qualitative research held by an excellent lecturer. And now I am hooked. Instead of looking to facebook for distraction (yeah, I know I previously said that don’t  like FB… but times are desperate)I try to get a break from writing and reading by watching lectures. Only  today I found a whole series of relevant approx. 90-minute lectures published on YouTube by Stanford University. I think this is awesome! For someone like me who is working on a project far away from my supervisors, this kind of input is incredibly valuable.

So I am now a happy bunny who has shed a hitherto held belief that the long distance between me and my Uni means I am a bit unfortunate, because I can pick and choose lectures from brilliant institutions and lecturers, I can design my own programme of study and get inspired by a whole bunch of brilliant academics from around the world. Wow.

Goldilocks and the three microwave ovens

This morning, on getting up, I was greeted by the sweet noise and flashing lights of the refuse lorry. How marvellous! Some dustmen may still be on strike, but by now most of them have gone back to work and those hills of rubbish that were all over town are slowly but surely vanishing. Mind you, some of those remaining hills are quite impressive. Today, on my morning run, I passed an assortment of  rubbish that had spread over the whole width of the pavement on 7 metre stretch of length, so I had to run on the road. Luckily this kind of sight is now the exception rather than the rule.

But let me talk about Goldilocks (that’ll be me…) and her microwave ovens. We currently have a microwave oven that is playing up. The wretched thing produces microwaves as soon as you close its door, it doesn’t matter whether it is programmed to heat something up or not. The thing has been unpopular with us since I bought it on a whim (bad, bad idea) a couple of years ago: Right from the start it would just decide to die for up to 10 minutes if it had been running for more than 3 or 4 minutes. Now it seems the thing can’t stop running. Anyway, we’ve finally lost patience and decided to buy a new one.

The microwave oven we want has to be simple: We want something that just produces microwaves, has no grill, no additional baking function, does not show you the time, or reminds you of your great-aunt’s birthday, and certainly has no touchscreen or wireless connection with your fridge to check which groceries need stocking up. Lo and behold, these very simple microwave ovens are still around. I bought one on Amazon in the middle of last week and come Saturday, the delivery man came with the big box. The excitement! I ripped open the box, marvelled at the appliance’s clean lines and stainless steel exterior and was ready to put it into action when we noticed that the back of the oven was badly damaged. . Blast. How annoying! I had been so looking forward to putting the old microwave thing into a retirement home for confused kitchen appliances. So we put the oven back into the box and got the return paperwork ready.

Wanting a microwave oven REALLY BADLY, I ordered one with another company, that promised to deliver within 24 to 48 hours. Yippeeh! Come Monday, I was excitedly cycling home from work, half expecting to run into the postman trying to deliver my shiny new microwave, only to find an email in my inbox telling me that the delivery would be delayed by 30 days. I was offered to cancel my order in exchange for a voucher with the company, that I could redeem at any time for any other product. Monday was one my very uncool days, so I got in a huff straight away. I did not want a voucher, I wanted my money and back or a microwave delivered asap.

Luckily, the company the company have a lunch hour for their customer service line, which saved them and myself from an unpleasant exchange including an ear-bashing. I hate to do that to people in call centres, but do it anyway on a bad day. I guess, that’s what these poor people get paid for. Anyway,  I had time to ring the bank to see if you can stop a credit card payment that hadn’t cleared (impossible in France, but I was advised to report my card as stolen, that way I could stop the payment ).

Then I had a therapeutic conversation with my man and as a result I was able to write a cool and calm and assertive email requesting cancellation of  the order, declining the  voucher, and demanding my money back. To my utter surprise, this worked! (You have to bear in mind that I was dealing with a French company and they can be very difficult…) A couple of hours later I had the confirmation that I would get my reimbursement and the order had been canceled. No ears had been bashed either. Thank goodness.

I ordered the third microwave oven on Monday afternoon. I am now in waiting. Will I be third time lucky?  Will I receive a shiny new and fully functional microwave oven by the end of this week? To pass the time, I keep brushing my golden locks and wait patiently for the five days that the delivery should take  to pass. And again realize how pathetically hung up one get about little things in life like replacing a microwave oven. I promise myself and the world that this won’t happen again. Goldilocks has learned her lesson .

Rubbish, rubbish everywhere…

The dustmen have just entered the second week of their strike action here in Lyon. Let me put it this way: it doesn’t look nice. We have overflowing bins all over the town and Lyon could potentially look a bit better. Luckily, the weather isn’t as lovely any more. It’s pretty chilly again, which keeps the rot and thus the smell at bay, but I sincerely hope that those nice guys (they are actually mostly cheerful and seem to have fun in general) decide to take up their work again very soon. If they don’t I am afraid we might be facing this kind of thing:

 

 

Sunshine…

makes me so happy. I’m elated to be shedding all these layers that I have been wearing over the past awfully cold months. Aren’t we all extremely lucky to be blessed with marvellous spring weather all over Europe? I got the shades out (the BIG ones), gave my winter coat to the cleaner’s and put my boots in a remote corner of our little untidy boxroom where everything goes that has no proper place in our flat. It’s hard to close the door of that room, it’s a cornucopia of surprises and sometimes it hails stuff from above… just the other day I got hit over the head by a deckchair. (Maybe wearing a helmet when entering the room would be an appropriate safety measure to stop things ruffling up my habitually immaculate hairdo…)

Anyway, I was not going to wax lyrical about this room. In fact I shouldn’t, this room would count as a disgrace for every

• house-proud, prim, clean and tidy person,
• remotely design-conscious person,
• health and safety executives in Germany, the Uk and Sweden. (I’m not sure about France  :) ),
• my mother,
• my sister, and
• my brother too.

So it does not shed a favourable light on our household. Then, maybe it does. At least there is only one room like that in our apartment whereas I have heard of people who clutter up the whole of their living space in such a way.

But what’s more important than this storage-blabber is no doubt the sunshine. It’s incredible how a bit of warmth and light can change the outlook on life. Suddenly I try to get out as much as possible, sunbathe on the river and sit in cafés to do my work. The wonderful thing is that lots of other people feel the same and so the Spring vibe in town is just invigorating.

We’re all sunshine-happy despite the overflowing rubbish bins all over Lyon: The French dustmen are on strike at the moment and I am really relieved it’s not August yet… I hope they get back to work next week. Otherwise our collective Spring happiness will eventually be spoilt by the smell of rotten tomatoes etc…. but back to more positive stuff.

Coinciding with the onset of the lovely weather, it was Lucy’s birthday last week. We celebrated this in perfect pre- teenage style, under exclusion of daylight and fresh air, but supported by a heavy beat noise (music?). Yes, we went laser tagging with her bunch of wild friends in a dark, graffitied labyrinth somewhere in Lyon. It sounds great, doesn’t it? And it was!!! It was my first time shooting with laser guns, hiding in corners and trying to collect as many points as possible. At first I found it a bit weird, it felt like I was in one of those computer games that Linus at times gets into, but once you get over the ’40+adult-with-no-relevant-gaming-experience-alienation’, it is a lot of fun.

Unfortunately, I can’t brag that I collected zillions of points and came out with a top ranking.  I was, let me put it this way, amongst those who could do with a little bit of extra tuition, but who are still in the league of those where not all hope is lost. You get the message, right? — I have to go again to practise. I have already talked Linus into celebrating his birthday with a laser tagging party. (This was not very difficult…).   This is my masterplan: Next time I go I will keep a closer eye on any teenage boys playing, they are so good at this. It’s probably those years spent on the computer playing first person shooter games. These guys aim and put your lights out (literally, you’re wearing a silly vest with flashing lights and if you’re hit, your lights are off for six or so seconds) with a single shot. While the accompanying dads took this game quite seriously, (it really brought out their inner beast — I won’t go into more detail),  they were at least easier prey than their well trained offspring…

By the way, Rolf enjoyed it loads too… and not surprisingly, he was good at it, despite his lack of training with personal shooter games. I think his usual analytical approach to life proved successful even for laser tagging.

Of course, I am sure there are people out there making tutting noises about the shallow pleasure seeking behaviour we foster in our children. I am aware that you could potentially say all sorts of really negative things about laser tagging, for example that it trivializes shooting people, that it does not foster social skills, that you could have at least as much fun at a birthday party with balloons, traditional games and stuff in the park, etc., etc.,

BUT…  We all loved it! I think it was because the game produces the same suspense we had when we were playing hide and seek in the dark as children, only with the additional bonus that you collect individual as well as team points by tagging the members of the rival groups. The children were thrilled after the party and very happy, and some of them told Lucy the next day that they had the Best Time Ever. So, I guess I  can safely neglect any moral doubts I was or might be harbouring. We’ll go again into the dark labyrinth. But not until  September, because  until then, I will enjoy the bright sunshine and the long hours of daylight. Have a great weekend!

 

 

Supporting Christiania

When I attended the MICCAI conference in Copenhagen in 2006, I spent some time exploring the city with a nice bunch from the MEVIS in Bremen (hi Inga, Tim, and Urban ). Quite by chance, we went past the entrance of Freetown Christiania, an alternative community that has been thriving there over four decades, despite various difficulties with the police, the state and the municipal bureaucracy, as well as various attempts to shut it down. One of the issues is that the Christiania inhabitants are technically squatters, whose presence is preventing the commercial exploitation of land that may be worth around 2 billion Danish Crowns (300 million Euros). After years of quarrelling, the state has now offered the inhabitants a deal: they can buy the land for 10 million Euros. Sounds great, but how does a bunch of idealists whose mission in life is to live it (and live it freely) come up with that kind of money? The answer may be crowdfunding. I’ve lent my support and am now the proud owner of a Christiania Folkeaktie. Not a real share, more of a fancy donation receipt, manufactured on site in the Freetown’s printing workshop.

My Freetown Christiania share

Warming thoughts

… I know, you are cold too… I am actually not too bad right now. I have just come in from a quick ride on the bike. The wind kind of anesthetized the lower part of my body, so I don’t feel anything anymore. The rest of my body, including my face, was covered in layers of wool and more wool. I keep telling myself I look really sexy and enigmatic when riding my bike at the moment, because the only bit of my face that is not covered in wooly stuff is my eyes….(Delusion has its uses in life!) But I guess I mustn’t grumble. Here, it was minus 10 degrees Celsius this morning, so not bad compared to some other places in Europe.

As much as I really don’t like being cold, the ice is so beautiful too. We went to the park on Sunday and found Lac Miribel frozen. So we went for a walk on the lake rather than round the lake. The sights certainly made up for the bloody frozen feet I was getting while slipping and sliding on the lake: 

This weather induced some strange thoughts too. Isn’t it weird, that

• at present, it is warmer on the inside of our fridge than outside, in front of our front door?
• the outside temperature will have risen by about 50 degrees Celsius in just 5 months time?
• on a sunny day and when the temperature rises to minus 2 degrees, you can actually feel as it is pleasantly *warm*?
• eleven-year-old girls seem to be covered in invisible layers of insulating material? I saw one of those specimens (which is closely related to me) step off the school bus today carrying her coat IN HER HANDS!!! Needless to say, I instantly turned into my mother for a quick and warming scolding.

  Hoping you’re keeping warm too … and that the broken boiler in Sunninghill got fixed today!!

A question of style

I came across an article on stylish parents in the Zeit online magazine today. I’m afraid it’s all in German, but its title roughly translates to:
“Mama, I’d love to be as cool as you.”
This article was about websites such as my mum, the style icon
or Dads are the original hipsters. These websites feature photos of ordinary people looking stylish from the 1960s, 70s or 80s.
I browsed the websites a little and then some more today and boy, I’d be inclined to post some of my mum and dad (but my mum won’t give me the thumbs up for this, I am sure). On those old, sepia coloured photos back from the 60s the two also looked fabulous: My mum, much taller than me and really willowy, wearing well cut skirts and jackets, my dad sporting something akin to an Elvis haircut (before Elvis had massive sideburns)… And my dad used to ride around on a motorbike, cigarette in the corner of his mouth and no crash helmet in sight. Ultimate cool.
When I was a child, I remember flicking through the family album and admiring my parents for their good looks and the care with which my mum in particular used to dress (when she had the time, before she had kids… nowadays she once again puts a lot of thought into what she wears).
I, on the other hand, think that I will never gain ‘Style Icon Status’ with my kids, let alone with the general public.
I own photos of myself wearing something like an afro (this was unintentional, a home perm gone tragically wrong), terrible colour combinations and the most unflattering baggy clothes one can imagine in 1989: I don’t stand a chance. It’s a pity, really, because I guess I could have looked fab when I was 20, it’s just that the Zeitgeist wasn’t in favour. Yes, I shall blame it on the magazines, pop videos and growing up in the countryside.
I have only recently started to wear nicely cut dresses (occasionally) and acquired several pairs of high heeled shoes ranging from 70s plateau sandals to ‘sexy librarian’ shoes (those I adore). But in everyday life, it’s jeans, jeans or jeans, H&M-t-shirts and bad hair. I just can’t be bothered to straighten my frizzy hair every single day, or slap on make-up that you have to take off again in the evening, after it’s made your eyes itch all day long. Life’s too short. And I think it might be too late to pass on style to my daughter, who currently wears nothing but her brother’s old hoodies, tight jeans and trainers. All the pretty dresses and skirts, all the nice girly shoes have been banished.
I keep telling myself it’s just a phase for Lucy… because it was one for me, only it lasted for about 35 years and I am still not completely out of it. But if the trend continues I might make it into the book of style by the time I’m in my late 50s…
And if I don’t, I don’t think I really care that much.
Gosh, now that really gave it away… I really don’t stand a chance, do I?

Busy…

This post is a bit of a landmark! It’s post number 200. But I have a feeling that this is the only remarkable aspect about it, because it is just meant as a quick hello and an update on what’s happening. Which is not much. We’re busy. But please keep on reading anyway…

I am now into my third week holding down two part-time jobs and thus the days just fly by. But I have to say, I am absolutely loving it. Suddenly, the house is more messy, but I am getting insights into a new universe that is commercial pharmaceutical research. I have already had some *remarkable* conversations with investigators. I will say no more, I’ll put it in a different post or tell you in private . No, honestly, this job is so up my street: It’s extremely complex in terms of paperwork and I get to talk to a lot of strangers on the phone, who are sometimes difficult, sometimes utterly charming and helpful. For someone like me who very much enjoys talking to interesting people, this is rather a fun work.
At the same time I am doing my other job, which allows me to brush up on my abilities in qualitative data analysis. This is great too, I am so happy to fully immerse myself in interview analysis, which can be mindboggling and complicated. But at the same time, it’s so beautiful when, after reading and coding the interviews four or five times, themes start to emerge, fall into place and suddenly you produce meaningful results. Okay, I appreciate that you may be thinking that this is loony work and can’t see the beauty at all? That’s fine with me… I love it anyway.
I just hope that my work meets my employer’s expectations so I will be hired for follow-on projects from mid-February onwards. So far, Lyon is looking promising, I have been offered more hours just today. With Switzerland, I am not sure. I will discuss the project with them tomorrow, so please keep your fingers crossed for me!

The offspring is busy too, Lucy is reading like there is no tomorrow, devouring one book after the other, and Linus is happy at school. He practically lives there at the moment:
He left the house at 7.30am this morning and I don’t expect him to be back until about 10pm tonight. He has had a full day of lessons until 5.30pm, then his Model United Nations debating club, and afterwards he will watch this year’s theatre production. Tomorrow he will again be leaving the house early. After school, he will be going to yet another Model United Nations convention, this time in Ferney-Voltaire (right next to Geneva). He’ll be gone until Sunday night.
The boy is definitely growing up, he just does not miss his MUM anymore!!! Having said that, it’s quite a liberating feeling, I was never very fond of those moments when I had a crying toddler who was in utter distress to part with his mum for, say, 10 minutes, clinging on to me. Yes, it’s good this phase is over. Just imagine, if he’d cling on to me still, I would have trouble wrestling the boy down… But luckily, I won’t have to. He’s very excited to go and discuss GM food as a representative for Venezuela. (They are assigned countries that they will represent before the convention).

Rolf is a busy bee too, so no real news on that front. Although, I have no idea what he is actually working on. The man with the big brain always does stuff that could potentially endanger the sanity of my own somehow differently wired thinking apparatus… So if you want to know, just ask him yourself.
I think dinner’s ready, so I better go, the family does not approve of ‘Black Quiche’. Have a great evening!!