retour de France (und von Deutschland)

We’re back home now, as of about 6:00 p.m., after a fairly long but blissfully uneventful travel day. (No delays, no lost belongings, no mishaps to speak of.) I just put Phoebe to bed in her own room, in her own crib. I will probably keep this short, as it is 2:00 in the morning according to the way my own internal clock has been set. (I just dozed off holding Phoebe, sitting in the glider up in her room.)

It is good to be home, and to be reunited with my laptop. I hope to catch up soon in my blog reading, as well as in responding to comments. (Thanks for all those comments I got during my trip, by the way. Yay, comments!) I really spent almost no time on the computer during the trip, aside from those couple posts, and time uploading photos. I have a bunch of things I want to write about that are trip-related, many of which could turn into posts at some point. Here, have a list:

  • descriptions of food I ate (especially during two final days of gluttony)
  • reflections on using my rusty French (it came back more easily than I thought, but sometimes a bit messily)
  • thoughts on returning to France 18 years after I lived there last (there have been lots of changes)
  • a bit about renting an apartment in Paris for a vacation (it was great)
  • a rundown of activities and sites seen (with photos)
  • a guide to Paris highlights from Phoebe’s perspective (Pigeons!)
  • a few thoughts on our lost stroller, and the sucky replacement one we bought

I’m really going to miss being in Paris. It was wonderful to be able to walk everywhere. To barely leave the building to find all sort of activities. And food. I would have liked more time in Germany, too. The trip went far too quickly. And soon my life will catch up with me again, and I’ll realize that I haven’t done any work in the last couple of weeks, that there were bills I forgot to pay before leaving, that I missed the registration deadline for school, that the house is a mess and that there are another dozen or so commitments and projects that are waiting for me to get back to them. But for now, I’ll just get some sleep, and remain cheerfully ignorant of all those things.

a few postcards from Paris

Seeing as I should get to bed soon, and haven’t had much time to write, I thought I’d post a few pictures. We safely arrived in Paris on Saturday, and met up with my mother, who had kindly already tracked down our apartment and keys by the time we arrived.

Our apartment is located on a very busy, but largely pedestrian, street with lots of cafés and bars. Here’s a view of the street:

our_street1.jpg

The apartment itself is up on the fifth floor of the building, and deep in the building, so that you’d have no idea that we were so near a busy street. There are courtyards on both sides. Here’s the view from the living room side of the apartment:

view.jpg

We’ve been doing some sight-seeing, but nothing too focused so far. We went to the Musée d’Orsay this afternoon, but upon seeing the long line, decided to head back in the morning. Here is the Musée, and the long line we didn’t stand in.

dorsay_line.jpg

Much of the trip has involved tracking down food. We managed to get to an outdoor market this morning, in hopes of getting lots of good fresh produce and yummy cheeses. The market itself was a bit of a bust, with very few stalls. (And no cheese!) It was nothing like the markets of Versailles and St. Germain-en-Laye that my mother and I knew better. We did buy a few zucchinis, some artichokes, and some fairly squished fruit. A I got a picture that made it look more interesting than it was:

market.jpg

I have yet to eat a sufficient number of crêpes, cheese and pastries, but I have at least had a few chaussons aux pommes, and some good baguettes.
Off to bed with me now.

Saalütations from Saarbrücken

I have just a couple minutes before we run out to forage for some dinner-type food, but I thought I’d check in. My poster is now done. As is the whole conference. It was a great conference, and I had fun with the poster. I tend to forget how tiring it is to give a poster, though, and I actually lost my voice for a bit. What with the talking for an hour and 40 minutes. Plus I was, and this may come as a bit of a shock, a bit sleep-deprived. But, it went well.

It was actually quite remarkable that we had the physical poster to put up. One of my co-authors was bringing it, and had left it in her office in Massachusetts. Her husband went and retrieved it, and FedExed it. It was due to arrive Monday. And it did, in fact, arrive in Germany by Monday. But not to the correct city. Somehow, it managed to find its way to us yesterday, in time for today’s poster session. I did not need to resort to scribbling a poster with crayons

We head to Paris tomorrow, which I’m very excited about. By TGV, if all goes according to plan. (We do have the tickets this time…)

I’d hoped to post a bit before now, but have had sort of minimal access to computers. We brought John’s laptop, but there has been little “free” time. Then somebody, somebody cute and small, though I won’t name names…somebody stepped on the laptop yesterday. Leading to a compressed trackpad button, requiring some purchasing of some tools, and then some taking aparting of the laptop. But it’s better now, though still a bit crushed.

Now we must go find some dinner. It’s been a bit of a challenge to find tasty food, as German cooking tends to be rather meat-oriented. And we are not. Meat-oriented. The various university places have had vegetarian options, but, well, it’s pretty much been cafeteria food. We found a good restaurant Wednesday night, while off on an excursion to a nearby city named Völklingen. (I’ll hopefully write about that trip soon.) There is also a vegetarian restaurant here in Saarbrücken, but the food is pretty heavy. Maybe we’ll head back there. I’m also bound and determined to get me some tasty baked goods, which I have yet to do.

the arrival: loss, losers, and a whole lot of lugging

Here we are, safely and comfortably settled in Saarbrucken. It’s day 2 of our trip. Or is it day 3? Well, it’s Monday night. I know that much. I guess that does make it day 3. It’s just that we’ve only had one actual night of sleeping in a room with walls and, you know, a bed.

Ah, beds. How we do take them for granted. Until the point where we’ve spent 24 hours or so sitting in various car, plane and train seats, or floors, not to mention walking and standing…

The trip here was…long. Not terrible. But well…long.

Day 1: Leaving home

We left home around 2:00 p.m., drove to the airport and checked in without incident. We were very happy to find out that the flight was underbooked, so we got to sit in a row with a free seat. It was fabulous news considering Phoebe would otherwise have been only in our very crowded laps.

The flight was good, though it involved too little sleep. I tend to forget how chaotic and noisy flights are, what with the beverage and meal service and people getting up and moving around. And with the lights on. It was almost as if people weren’t scheduling their activities around Phoebe’s bed time. Could that be possible?

Phoebe was very good overall, though too interested in what was going on. There was a bit of crying here and there, but not for too long overall. She was almost asleep when dinner was delivered. And then she perked right up and wanted my cantaloupe. I tried covering up my food to keep it from calling to Phoebe, but eventually worried the flight attendants would think this meant I was finished and snatch up my tray before I could eat. So eventually, John held Phoebe while I ate. Which Phoebe did not like. (Translation: she cried.) I shoveled the food in, some sort of lentil-ish loaf and mashed potatoes (the “special” dinner), and what was left of my cantaloupe, to a soundtrack of Phoebe’s various sad and angry vocal stylings. But then Phoebe settled in John’s arms before I finished eating, and eventually fell asleep. She slept well enough that we could transfer her to my arms at some point.

The flight was long, but seemed too short once Phoebe finally fell asleep, around 9:00 p.m. by our time. Meaning about 4 hours before our scheduled arrival in Paris. And then the lights came back on and the chaos started up again about an hour before landing, what with breakfast service and all.And then, before we knew it, we were on the descent.

Day 2: arrival in Paris (and departure)
So there we were on the ground at Paris, CDG. And we gathered up our big piles of stuff and eventually got off the plane. There were quite a lot of other babies and small children on the flight, and it was funny to see that most of those other families were also slow getting off the plane. And we headed out of the plane, and expected to see our stroller, which we’d checked at the gate. It wasn’t there. Neither were any of the many other gate-checked strollers. We hung around for a bit, with the gathering small crowd of baby-toting people, until we finally got the news that all the strollers had all been sent to baggage claim, as everybody “had already left.” Everybody, I thought, except for all the people travelling with small children!

So, we headed off to clear immigration and customs, joining the end of the line with the rest of the baby people. And I was crankily muttering to John that it defeated the purpose of checking strollers at the gate when they have the stroller sent off to baggage claim. And John said something like: “If that’s the worst thing that happens on this trip, it will be a pretty good trip.”

An excellent point.

But it turns out this was not the worst thing that happened to our stroller. We don’t actually know what happened to our stroller. Everybody else got their stroller. Ours didn’t appear. Apparently, the very cranky agent at the desk in Boston misdirected our stroller. I didn’t notice when she handed me my receipt that she’d written LAX (that’s LA) and some other possibly non-existent flight number, rather than CDG and our flight number. And sadly, we didn’t even have a name tag on the stroller. When I asked the agent if I could put my name on it, she just said, “I’ll take it now.” I complied. That was all she said to me, before she scribbled on a tag, and handed me the receipt, all the while ranting to a coworker about the crappy day she was having. I slunk off without even reading the tag. Was it spite?

So, our stroller is probably gone. It was a very nice stroller. Nicer than American Airlines (losers) will be willing to reimburse us for, according to the lost baggage agent. They offered us a loaner, some poor other soul’s lost stroller, from all appearances. But that sad little thing wouldn’t even open. I thought we’d be better off without it. We can apparently get reimbursed for up to 50 U.S. dollars for a new stroller. There was the possibility that they would be able to find the stroller, and get it to us.

So, off we stumbled and lugged. Happily, we’d at least brought our new lightweight carrier for Phoebe, so we were able to manage our luggage with Phoebe on my back. We had to get moving to get the train station to make our way to Saarbrucken, Germany.

We took the RER to Gare du Nord, then the Metro to Gare de l’Est, which was where we planned to take the newly opened TGV line, a super-duper fast train, direct to Saarbrucken. Notice how I used the past tense there…planned. Because, you see, all the TGV trains, for the day were sold out. One can purchase tickets in advance. However, I hadn’t. Unbeknownst to me, one can only purchase online at least 5 days in advance. Once I got my act together to buy, our departure was 4 days away.

No big deal, I thought. We’ll buy our tickets at the station.

But.

It turns out that not only were all the fast trains sold out for the day, so were the usual slow routes. What the agent finally arranged for us was to get a 2:00 train, after a 3 hour wait, to Nancy. Followed by a train to Metz. Followed by a train to Forbach. And then a train to Saarbrucken. Count ’em, my friends. 3 changes, 4 trains. Plus 2 suitcases, 2 backpacks, a diaper bag, and one very tired toddler. Anyone care to do the math?

That’s all I have time for now. I’ll write more when I have a chance. For now I’ll say that I’m actually having a great time, in spite of various inconveniences. The first day of the conference was good, and tonight I get to sleep in a bed. Which I should do now, because it’s way, way too late. And because I really appreciate having a bed to sleep in.

phoebe_airport.jpg
Phoebe enjoyed looking at the planes at the airport.

p.s. If you are a relative of mine, and wondering why I haven’t emailed, it’s because I can’t manage to get to my email just now. I managed to check it just fine, but haven’t been able to get back on for the last few hours. I’ll try again tomorrow.

bats in the belfry

We borrowed Phoebe’s air conditioner today, to bring downstairs for a bit, and when John removed it from the window, he was surprised to see that a bat was curled up on the windowsill. It had apparently set up house in the cave formed under the air conditioner. (It can’t have lived there long, though, since the air conditioner was out of the window when the house got painted about 6 weeks ago.) Anyhow, the bat huddled there shivering for several minutes before it got up and flew away. It was terribly cute. But, seeing as they can carry rabies, not terribly cuddly-looking.

So, inspired by the little bat we had as a pet without knowing it, I bring you a list of bats for this week’s Themed Things Thursday. This list will be short, and light on the links. Because I only have a couple of minutes before people come over for dinner.

  1. Batman. The superhero. Comics, TV show, movies. Dresses up in a bat-like costume. Has a bat cave. And a bat signal.
  2. Batboy. Half boy, half bat. A regular of Weekly World News.
  3. Vampires. In some tales about them, they can turn into bats.
  4. Bat out of hell. An expression meaning very fast, usually when someone is leaving somewhere. As in “I ran out of there like a bat out of hell.” Also an album by Meat Loaf.
  5. batty. An expression meaning crazy. (A bit milder than the related term batshit. As in “they are batshit insane.”) As in going batty. As in “I am going batty.” As in “I am going batty, because we leave for the trip in less than 48 hours. And have lots to do. Planning. Packing. Printing. People coming over for dinner. I’m sleep deprived, and have had to give up on the damn abstract that is the source of my sleep deprivation.”

That’s all I got. I bet there are more bats. Anyone else have any?

learning some lessons (a crankiness review)

This has been a bit of a week for learning for me. I love learning. I am a bit of a long-term student. And even my career goals for after I get the PhD involve continued research. But the truth is, sometimes, the learning process can involve some crankiness. I like to feel like I know stuff, but often learning involves being shown that I don’t know stuff. Which is not always comfortable.

Take Monday. I had my violin lesson. I hadn’t had much time to practice last week, and there were 2 new, unfamiliar pieces. Worse, I didn’t practice until late in the week, meaning I more or less couldn’t remember the pieces at all from the previous lesson. And while Phoebe has lately been encouraging me to practice (she points at the violin, and then plays quietly nearby while I practice), she has less interest in listening to me struggle with a new piece that I play poorly (she kept leaving the room). Resulting in a shorter practice session. End result: Monday’s lesson was not my best. The topic of my lack of rhythm came up. Sigh.

Take Yesterday. I noticed that a deadline for abstract submissions for a big conference was today. I had meant to submit an abstract for the work I did for my master’s project. (Re-submit, actually, as the abstract I submitted for a previous conference was rejected.) I decided that I should make the push, and spent 4 hours re-writing the abstract yesterday afternoon and evening. I then sent it to a professor (one of the reader’s for my master’s project) on the off chance she would have time to look at it and give suggestions. Remarkably, she generously agreed to read the abstract, and even came back with several helpful suggestions. She said I should definitely submit the abstract, but that it would need to be “re-written.” Crap. I thought re-writing was what I’d just done. But I re-re-wrote, and was up till 2:00 in the morning. It apparently still needs re-re-re-writing, though. (The deadline was extended, so my professor will send me more comments tonight or tomorrow.) It will definitely be very good for me to learn how to write a better abstract, but, well, I hadn’t thought the first one (or second or third) were all that bad. Showing that I indeed have stuff to learn.

Take today. Another lesson in a different domain. I took Phoebe to Whole Foods this evening, as we need some stuff for a dinner we’re having tomorrow. (The aforementioned veggie dinner.) I was trying to get out the door by 5:00, with the plan of picking up some dinner for Phoebe at the store. We didn’t manage to leave till 5:15. Phoebe usually eats around 5:30. The store is 20 minutes away. I gave her some cheese before we went in the store, thinking it would hold her till we finished shopping, when she could eat some more.

We went in the store, I plopped her in a cart. Then I plopped her in another cart, because the straps on the first cart weren’t properly attached. Then we started shopping. And more time passed. Then Phoebe realized she was cold, and I’d left her sweater in the car. (It was about 90 degrees out, but downright chilly in the frozen food aisles.) But while Phoebe is generally a very happy and well-behaved toddler, she becomes less so when her needs aren’t met. Such as when she is cold and hungry. We almost ended up leaving without most of the items on the list. After buying a bit of bread and milk for her (yes, I went all out for the gourmet dinner), and returning to the car to warm up, eat and get her sweater, we were able to then complete our shopping mission in relative calm. You’d think I would’ve known providing adequate food clothing were among the basics of parenting.

Now, it’s 1:00 a.m., and I am back at work on the abstract re-re-re-re-re-re-re-re-re-re-re-write. I’m completely wiped out and cranky and am no longer sure I can manage to get the abstract done. Is it too late to change careers?

resistance is futile

For some reason today, an old slogan for Lay’s potato chips popped into my head: “no one can eat just one.” And for some other reason, I thought it could so easily be paraphrased to have a somewhat different meaning:

No one is permitted to eat only one.

I imagine a totalitarian society, where potato chip-eating quotas are strictly enforced. And why just potato chips? Why not have a nation-state that dictates other product use, and daily life in general? Advertising slogans abound that need only the gentlest nudge to conjure up such a society:

  • Do you have your required dairy products?
    “Got milk?”
  • Orange Juice is now mandatory at meals other than breakfast.
    “It’s not just for breakfast anymore.”
  • It is strictly forbidden that anything should surmount these batteries
    “You can’t top the copper top”, Duracell Batteries
  • Enjoyment is compulsory
    “We’re gonna make you smile”, SeaWorld
    “Don’t get mad! Get Glad!” Glad
  • Viewing is obligatory.
    “Must See TV”, NBC
  • All youths over the age of 10 are required to enroll
    “Join the Pepsi generation”
  • Establish your approved identity by drinking an officially sanctioned beverage
    “Be a Pepper. Drink Dr Pepper”, Dr Pepper
  • Only certifiably genuine and approved products may be consumed
    “Can’t beat the real thing”, Coca-Cola
  • We will tell you what you need to have.
    “You Gotta Have It!”, Lisa Frank
  • We will tell you what you need to know.
    “You’ve got questions, we’ve got answers.” RadioShack
  • Rest assured: all your decisions are being made for you.
    “Your true choice.” AT&T
    “You’re in good hands.”, Allstate Insurance
  • Continued productivity is imperative.
    “Keep Going”, Energizer Batteries
  • There is no need to leave your community.
    “Your World. Delivered.” AT&T
  • Cooperation is rewarded.
    “Membership has its privileges”, American Express
  • Unmutual individuals will be broken.
    “You deserve a break today”, McDonald’s
  • If you are not with us, you are against us.
    “Stick together”, T-Mobile

And some of the slogans don’t really need any help to be Big Brotherly:

  • “You need us for everything you do”, The Weather Channel (We control everything.)
  • “Don’t leave home without it”, American Express (You must have your card with you at all times.)
  • “Wherever you go, our network follows”, Hutch in India (You can’t run.)
  • “VISA ; It’s everywhere you want to be”, Visa (You can’t hide.)
  • “We’ll leave the light on for you.” Motel 6 (The better to see what you are doing.)
  • “You Watch, We Listen”, British Satellite Broadcasting (Your neighbors are watching you, and we are listening.)penny_farthing.jpg
  • “The Listening Bank”, Midland Bank (I told you, we’re listening.)
  • “It’s the Internet that logs onto you” SBC, ca.Yahoo! DSL (We have access to your thoughts at all times.)
  • “The more you hear, the better we sound”, AT&T long distance (Our propaganda is very effective.)

    • big fears and small, hopeful faces

    There was a New York Times article I read a couple of weeks ago that has left me thinking. It describes the some of the education situation in Afghanistan, and the attack on schools by Taliban rebels, who have protested the education of girls. Recently, there have been incidents of attacks on the students themselves, including brutal shootings of young girls leaving schoolgrounds.

    The article was accompanied by a slideshow, containing beautiful photographs of some Afghan schools, and of the people affected by the attacks on the schools. We see the mourning family of a 13-year-old girl who was shot down and killed outside of her school, and students and teachers at work in tents being used as schoolrooms.

    One image in particular gripped me. It shows a classroom, a tent actually, where young girls are standing or sitting among rows of tables, holding textbooks. They wear black and white, and most wear white scarves over their hair. The girl at the center of the image is holding out her book, and looking up eagerly at an adult that is mostly out of frame, a teacher, most likely. The girl’s eyes glint brightly and her mouth curves in a small smile. Another girl’s scarf has fallen to her shoulders, and she looks off to the side, her attention apparently diverted from the book activity. Other faces look down at books, or up at the teacher. Some look confident, some look a bit more uncertain. Some look focused on their books, and some a bit distracted by other things going on in the room. I imagine that they are all a bit exicited to have the photographer in the classroom with them. All of their small beautiful faces look eager, engaged. They look, more than anything, just like children. In spite of the setting. In spite of their formal-looking style of dress. And most amazingly, in spite of the dangers they face.

    In their faces I see myself as a girl, and my own eagerness for learning. I see my daughter’s face, and the future that education will bring her. I see my sister’s face, my mother’s face, my friends’ faces, and the faces of all the women I know, who were once young girls, and who have benifitted from an education that we so easily take for granted.

    My heart sings for those young girls at the same time as I feel the grip of fear for their very lives. Their world is being expanded, their minds enriched, the possibilities of their future are multiplying.

    I am horrified that children are paying such a high price for their education. I’m appalled and deeply saddened. I can barely imagine the choices that these children and their parents must face.

    At the same time, the photo gives me some hope. The number of students attending schools, both boys and girls, is increasing in the years since the end of the Taliban’s government. Educators and parents in Afghanistan, and organizations around the world, are fighting to make schooling possible for these children.

    For more information on the education crisis in Afghanistan, and the emergency situation for Afghani children in general, see the UNICEF information pages for Afghanistan. There are also many other resources on the web, such as this publication of Human Rights Watch.