Some day this blog will be awesome...

... but not today. Meh.

Relishing my last week in Groningen - winding up my time here with long mornings sleeping in; drinking strong coffee; braving the gusting howling Netherland winds; and relishing my Kikitime before it's all Skype and phonecalls for a few months when I move to Montpellier. My train tickets (12 1/2 hours) are booked for Feb 12th. It's hard to look forward to leaving, and I don't; on the other hand, am excited by the thought of sunshine, digging into new courses, and starting research at UM2 in April.

I've thoroughly enjoyed living in Groningen. It's a laid-back city, small enough for friendliness and large enough to keep most people busy and entertained. I've enjoyed live jazz nights at De Spieghel (www.jazzcafedespieghel.nl); beers, cheese and mustard for late-night dining at Der Witz, one of Kiki's (and now my) favourite hole-in-the-wall pubs in the centre; dancing until 6 am at Warhol, where "coat check" involves slinging your things over the low-hanging beams (solid foot-square logs); coffee mornings at Doppio and Saturday afternoons wandering the market inhaling an intoxicating medley of fresh fruit and veg, stroopwaffels, anise candies and fresh raw fish; the heady late-night aromas of cigar tobacco and sugar beets; long runs of bleak gloomy gray days broken by resplendent moments of sunshine, an occasional day of spring-like weather when you're glad to be alive.

I also enjoyed some of the finer points of living in the Netherlands. I was fortunate enough to "salvage" an unlocked bike off a street near my house when the bike I'd been using needed repairs; and was just as proud of myself when two months later, the same bike officially (now dead for a snapped chain and seizing rear hub) was stolen from infront of my house after I foolishly left it unlocked overnight -- here I thought a stiff, chainless bike would hardly be a worthwhile target. Fortunately, Peizerweg thieves are disappointingly uncreative; I found my bike just two blocks from my house, unlocked, so just brought it home again (and locked it this time) and salvaged the brand-new tires to replace the fraying ones on the bike I'd originally been riding. Hooray!

I've learned to say "I love you" (Ik hou van jou); make andijvie stamppot (endive with mashed potatoes and bacon bits); discovered mosterdsoep (yes, mustard soup: 'nuff said); eaten (enjoyed) real Groninger sausage; started well on my way to a zoute drop (salted licorice) addiction; and will sorely miss kroketen from the Febo foodwall, and late night fries. And who could ever get through a long study night without a couple of Hasret pizzas? So long as France has discovered gorgonzola as the ultimate pizza topping, I guess I should be fine.

Back to relishing moments, then.

Rest peacefully, Grannie B. 22 June 1922 - 3 January 2010

"Death is more universal than life; everyone dies, but not everyone really lives." A. sachs

It's an over-used quote but one that resonates with me.

My grandmother, Myrtle Irene Blain, born 20 June 1922, passed away yesterday afternoon (Mountain Standard Time; for me in the Netherlands at GMT+1, it was about 1 am). It does not come as a great surprise, and while it is still saddening, also eases some suffering: she was frequently uncomfortable or in pain, extremely tired, and somewhat depressed at times (although she maintained an incredibly stalwart facade and almost never complained). She was also, sadly, not always an outwardly kind woman; she could be cutting, even cruel, in her remarks about others, and dismissive or just outright mean to your face if she felt the occasion or situation justified it (or was just in a particularly bad mood); and she had an utter disregard for her health that left her sick, frail and unable to take care of herself even as she was resentful about no longer being able to live at home.

Nonetheless, she was also a source of genuine inspiration. This was a woman who married for the first time at 41, when not being married by your early 20s was a surefire path to spinsterdom. When she did, she chose the love of her life; someone with whom she could laugh, a kindred spirit in both work and play: my maternal grandfather. Often throughout her life she remarked on someone in the family having berated them for being “too silly”: her response was, “Why would you want to be with someone that you can’t be silly with?” She never had children of her own and I often wondered what difficulties arose for a fiercely independent, globe-trotting woman marrying a man with two feisty, witty, and keenly intelligent teenage daughters. She occasionally said that she’d have had children of her own if she could have (she had a hysterectomy at 28 due to cancer) but sometimes I wondered. “Grannie B” did not exemplify maternal caring and warmth (as did her husband’s first wife and my mom’s mom, Violet, from whom I get my middle name).

But sometimes warmth is not what’s needed: instead, she inspired with her independent spirit, liveliness, sharp tongue, and bottomless well of stories from her world travels. In many ways I think that may have been more useful to us, as her grandchildren; she often implored me to bring her photos of my travels to the Amazon, Central America, and Argentina; she encouraged each of us in our university studies and was a major financial support in helping us reach our personal academic goals; and nearer the end, she was strongly supportive of my move to Europe, even as we both knew my last visit was likely to be a “real” last this time. In a time when few women went to university she was one of the first female pharmacists in Calgary, where she lived much of her adult life; she was the first pharmacist in Alberta to openly sell condoms, which she would wrap in small paper bags so men could buy them discreetly; and yet she still maintained a fun and socially active life, never passing up an opportunity to party if one presented itself. Her dance card was always full, whether in her hometown of Lomond, Alberta, or on a cruiseship to Hawaii or with her girlfriends traveling across Europe. Furthermore, she was a talented artist, covering myriad boxes, stepstools and other furniture with elaborate designs (“toll” painting); filling canvases (now coveted by her grandchildren); and passing on, throughout her life, her love of art and a wealth of supplies – paint, brushes, tear-off palettes, knives, media, canvases, instructional books, paper, pencils and charcoal, and so on. Many of these were given to me as I wandered between the enchanting vagaries of art and the heady academia of science, and I will always be deeply grateful for the endless supply of artistic materials, especially during my childhood and then later in life as a university student.

I could go on for pages: she was a devout garage sale junkie (woe were we upon having to clean out her house on Canmore Road, after 30 years of garage sale excursions!) who on most weekends, when she was able, could be found cruising the city with her cousin Clare, classified ads in hand, combing the latest finds. She was a silversmith, turning out stunning and unique pieces of jewelry set with gemstones from all parts of the world; talented with a crochet hook; an avid letter-writer, and vociferous proponent of the cursive arts; and a savvy investor in both stocks and real estate. Always well-dressed, she was a real lady of the 30s; a “character” in the truest sense of the word. She will be remembered fondly and earnestly; and I for one will do my best to emulate her finest qualities, learn from the others, and become someone who, like she did, has really lived.

Happy New Year's

My God, if I did this more often it wouldn't be such a Herculean effort when I do. Last post October 30th? Really?

First, from a November 6th draft for a new post: an intriguing article from Nature magazine on the life and work of Gabriel von Max (1840-1915), a German painter from Munich who combined a love of art with his passion for collecting objects of science and natural history. His exquisite paintings are thought-provoking remarks on the relationships between science, art, humanity and the natural world:

http://www.nature.com.proxy-ub.rug.nl/nature/journal/v468/n7322/full/468376a.html

And then, a summary of 2011 (don't worry; I won't; I did write a 4-page PDF version if you really want it, though). There's a laundry basket of cliches and euphemisms and sentiments that I need to pick through for its description -- yet riding home through the park today it dawned on me that that's sort of the point. A brilliant golden early-afternoon sun was streaming down through the trees, reflecting off the puddles and warming the air so much that it really felt like spring, and not mid-winter; jubilant flocks of ducks and geese babbled about in the pools of open water on frozen ponds; streets were littered with shattered glass and spent, disintegrating remains of last night's fireworks, and a few other bleary-eyed party-goers, older couples arm-in-arm, and young families wandered the wet and glittering pathways.

I realized that at every moment we choose between a basketful of emotions with which to colour the hours ahead: is today one to lay reminiscing, or paining over losses, waxing nostalgic, grieving mistakes (others'; our own) and slights (real; imagined)? Or will we choose to pick out a few moments to take the longer route home, bask in the winter sunshine, revel in the little glories that life strings along just within our reach, enjoy the people with whom we pass our hours rather than spending too much time missing the ones that are far away, in time or place.

It's been a tough year, to be honest - and yet if I think of the harder times they're outweighed and overwhelmed by the positive ones, the happier times shared with friends and family: my weeks spent in Dunster over the summer, gardening and cleaning and spending time on the land; moving to Europe, and finding new classmates quickly have become close friends; enjoying the heady bliss of new romance (thanks K.) and the more grounded comfort of having their real support through some of the toughest moments.

As the new year opens up today, I think about things like resolutions and goal-setting again, something I haven't really spent time on for some years. I focused for so long on reaching an academic goal that I didn't really keep up along the way to lay down new ones for the path ahead. As a result, 2011 starts with a sort of blank-slate feeling, that I have some reinvention but also careful consideration to do.

In April I'll be heading to Munich to start a research project there. I've been speaking with a lab group through the Technical University of Munich about working in environmental microbiology; at the same time, I'm interested in biological clocks (and genes); but also cultural evolution, politics, literature, history of disease and social effects, indigenous cultures around the world, and just plain old travel.

Every day the kaleidoscope changes: this time last year I had just submitted my MEME application, and now here I am -- so what balls that I set in motion now, will be actively rolling this time next year? How do I choose which ones to set into motion, which ones to put more energy to, which ones to pull off the table or to "wait and see" on? After Munich I'd like to go to Montpellier (France) and Uppsala (Sweden) but also am required to spend a research semester back in Groningen - not an unpleasant prospect and certainly if K. is still here, a good one. Each university has something distinct and unique to offer - a different research direction, a new focus, diverse opportunities. Which to choose; and why; and what will be the consequences?

Some fitting cliches apply here: whenever one door opens, another closes; and yet sometimes when a window closes a door opens... So I'll spend some time today to iron those things out; work on some proximal things (writing a couple of overdue letters; working on a student lecture for our January summer school) and more distant ones (a five-year plan; where to go in my break between February and April; long-term goals), and maybe reach some conclusions or at least new ideas by the time school starts up again on Wednesday.

Wish me luck. Things change quickly; North Korea is proferring fearsome threats towards the South again; a bomb at a New Year's mass in an Egyptian church killed 21; the Ivory Coast inches towards civil war; France and Germany are flooded as the heavy snows melt with the onset of warmer weather, and Australia is similarly under heavy flooding in the northeast. It's hard to know which direction the world goes in at any given time, and I'm starting to believe the best tactic may be just to go with what you know, forget the big grand-scale plans and work on what's under your feet.

Best of luck, then, in 2011. I think it'll be a good year - in fact, I'm going to plan on it.

Making a Lizard's Eye View of the world

One of my favourite aspects of studying the set of fields we call [evolutionarybiologyandecology] today is the rising importance of thinking about complexity, interactions and multidimensionality in biological research. This is something I wrote about briefly for an essay based on the 2010 Biodiversity Decennium Assessment that our class attended in Amsterdam (24 September). Within a few years - really, since the late 1990s at the earliest - we've launched within the biological sciences from studying at the singular or organismal ("reductionist") level to beginning to formulate a concept of biological complexity at a more systemic, integrative ("integrative" or "systematic") level. In essence, I find it refreshing that we're setting aside the magnifying glasses in exchange for our fish eye lenses (so to speak).

----

So there's a thought. Today, I've been working on my ability to stay in bed for as long as possible (it took some coaching); went for breakfast coffee at 4 pm; played with a few sketches for some painting ideas I've been pushing around for awhile; am shuffling towards reading some papers and a book chapter for discussion on Monday; and keeping as backgroundsound some drum & bass lists I hadn't listened to (either at all, or in a good long time), while periodically getting sidetracked into local music faves from home:

www.myspace.com/rachelvanzanten

www.myspace.com/mamaguroove

Also search Amy Thiessen, a good friend from Calgary AB (think folky Feist with some serious vocal caterwauling to back her up) and Shiloh Lindsey, a good and long-time (back to elementary school) friend from Vancouver BC. Powergrrls both.

What I *should* be doing...

- researching research options for Munich (semester starts 2 May 2011, but I could start a research project as early as mid-February, when the semester here in Groningen ends)

- working on my old undergrad thesis to re-submit for publication --> sort of an exercise in futility, but also... just good practice

- working on some short notes for submission to the Coleopterists Bulletin about some beetle species we found way out of range on Haida Gwaii/the Queen Charlotte Islands while doing fieldwork in 2009

- reading papers for a paper I'm working on with a PhD student here in Groningen on invasive species ecology...

- reading papers for a presentation I have next week, on microbial interactions with eukaryotes (specifically, a really *really* cool glowing bacteria-nematode worm-insect larva symbiosis/parasitic interaction... Okay. Lost ya already. Sorry. :)

... And then for fun, the paintings, some knitting/crocheting, a laundry list of movies to watch, photos to take of the beautiful fall leaves before they're all gone, articles for a friend's online magazine, phone calls to make... What am I doing here again, besides letting you (two) know what I'm up to?

Anyway, I also realized I can't post my favourite PDFs on here, because that would violate all sorts of copyright laws. Bummer, because there are some damn cool ones. You'll just have to ask.

Besitos; back soon; like Allie on Hyperbole-and-a-half: if you lower your standards by a whole bunch, then the next crap will seem really awesome. Or something like that. Hold on to your lugnuts, then, because... I promise, next post will be awesome.

!

SV

By the way: the lizard's eye view of the world was in reference to something said in class, which I forget now. It does, however, sort of refer to KS's ability to move her eyes independently, which is weird.

ideas
- podcasts for going to sleep, art work, ... - how to learn about octopuses/octopi while you sleep
- 20% time rule (from Freakonomics podcast)
- papers that didn't go into the newsletter
- Utne reader: 25 Visionaries Who Are Changing Your World:
http://www.utne.com/Politics/25-visionaries-changing-your-world-2010.aspx?utm_content=10.29.10+Politics&utm_campaign=Emerging+Ideas-Every+Day&utm_source=iPost&utm_medium=email
- birthday and turning 30

Update II: An About ("Aboot") Face on Blogging

Two months after moving to Europe, I've failed on the upkeep of the blog (a fact of which I've been reminded repeatedly by my two followers).

** [[Never mind failed on learning Dutch: after 2 months in Argentina, I was at least conversational. Here, I stumble when the clerk at the grocery store asks me if I want my receipt. ]]

I sort of feel guilty about this, and mostly don't. I keep thinking of the xkcd(www.xkcd.com) cartoon:

(Note Frame 3).

So I suck at keeping a blog; big deal. Shoot me. I'm busy. I write in my journal daily; I put together the biweekly newsletter for our programme; and meanwhile trying to maintain some semblance of a social life (which I largely abandoned during my undergraduate studies), romantic life (no details here, sorry), and still be the over-achieving workaholic grad student I'd always dreamed of being.

But at the end of the day there are still interesting papers that I want to tell *someone* about; weird newsclips, funny cartoons, intriguing (and/or useless) factoids, and random ideas that need to go somewhere. Facebook doesn't cut it; sorry. Ergh, not.

As such becomes the blog: repository of things unfileable, unfiled, or simply too numerous for other venues. I'm not about to start jotting websites in my journal, complete with underlines and blue text for future reference; nor clutter my minimalistic FB wall with every pedantic morsel of eruditic factual deliciousness I come across; nor inundate my classmates with all the fascinating papers I stumble across in a day's procrastination. (For starters, it will also save me from punching the FB time clock every time I add something... in contrast, here I can conveniently select "Save as...", stuff everything into my Blog folder and patchwork it all together at my delectable future leisure.)

There. Get used to it, both of you. I hope it'll be fun. At the very least, it will be for me, and for now, that's enough.

Xiao!

SV

A little late, but...

... better late than never, right?

I've landed, and after a few days with Anne-Marie and Juriaan in Neuwegeim, I'm starting to settle in. In fact, I've been utterly coddled: set up with mobile phone (complete with 15€ credit and a 5 MP camera!), a new bike, and an abundance of good food, good coffee, great conversation, and new friends, it's quickly starting to feel like home. A quick run-down, though, of the last two weeks:

11 August (Wednesday): packing, packing, packing; saying good-byes; lunch with Grannie (Molly) Cousineau in McBride. Debate staying in Dunster one more night; take 2 hours to leave the farm and visiting with dad. (I miss you!) Jasper by 8 pm to meet friends Claire & Dallas at the Winkler home; homemade raspberry wine (courtesy of Arlene), homemade venison sausage (courtesy of Terry Winkler), and garden salad (courtesy of Winkler garden). Go to Astoria to meet Sean (spelled properly) and friend... M*. Traditional on tap; Strongbows; wings; 'nuff said. Jasper comedy = watching local kids getting nabbed for blocking street traffic with pylons. More entertaining than it sounds.

12 August (Thursday): Home at Sean's by 3:30 am. Manage not to wake anyone. Leave Jasper at 2 after over-priced, over-rated, under-sized breakfast wrap at Coco's. Calgary by 7:45 pm.

13-15 August: Blur. Cleaning and emptying Grannie's house in Calgary. Move everything to Shelly's garage, which turns out to be just big enough, but not big enough to fit the car in the garage. Errands in Calgary. Sunshine and pouring rain in Calgary. Too much Calgary. Forgot how much I don't miss Calgary (but will miss Maruju Sushi in Calgary!).

16 August (Monday; final day): Errands in Calgary, Part II. Eye appointment is literally blinding; pupils dilated to the size of saucers, Kim intercepts me at the Helly Hansen outlet last-minute shopping a 70% -off sale. She tells me to go the car. My 30th birthday/going-away present is a beautiful, perfectly fitted grey-and-green soft shell jacket. I love it. My family is AWESOME. Dinner at Open Range; I have never paid this much for food. Snarky waitress. Great food. Free-form goat cheesecake with chocolate is fabulous, but not everyone agrees.

16 August Part II: At Superstore until 11 buying last-minute clothes, "Canadian food" for Sweden, and other things I forgot/didn't get. Electronics section closed so can't get what I came for: European electrical converter, and an alarm clock. Crucial items. Packing at Shelly's house until 2:30 am.

17 August (Tuesday): The Big Day. Awake at 5:30. Out of bed and re-packing by 7. At CIBC by 9 am; close chequing account, get euros, race to London Drugs for converter and alarm clock. Find both. Converter covers UK, Middle East, South America, and Asia, so I will never have to buy another one again. Good news. Back at Shelly's at 10:15; re-pack, final-pack, sit-on pack, and close up. Realize it's probably too heavy. Take out running shoes (I'll be biking, right?), and some other things. Ready to go when Kim arrives (early!) at 10:45. Load car. Realize there are two loads of laundry I forgot - one in the dryer, one in the washer. Wear wet bra and tanktop, pack two more, and say to hell with the rest. I'm already missing the short yoga pants that were in the dryer! Off to the airport. Breakfast at TH's; hugs good-bye (to Kim, Carlos, Rae, Mom and Shelly) and off to Toronto - Lester Pearson International Airport. Leave Calgary 40 minutes late.

17 August Part II: Toronto airport is cursed. Land 45 minutes late. 15 minutes to leave security, get my boarding pass (which couldn't be printed in Calgary), get back through security: you would think this would be enough (right). Am passing through security, in the handicapped ("faster") line-up, as they are calling my name. I am at gate 161. I am leaving at gate 179. I am dripping sweat, but make it: and there's still one more behind me. My seat-neighbours inform me they'd hoped to be seated next to someone from Iceland. As consolation I give up my window seat.

18 August: Keflavik, Iceland. 15 minutes to relax, and eat+drink for the first time in about 12 hours (although I've lost track through so many time zones). Love airport washrooms. Safety in stalls. No paper. Warm water. Back in time for boarding. Finally: my seat neighbours are a lovely pair from Minnesota, off for their first trip to Europe. Collapse into a groggy coma in my aisle seat (no longer a window fanatic; I'm converted), I wake occasionally to let them out. They practically have to physically shake me, but we all laugh about it afterwards.

... And at last! Arrive in Schiphol. Delirious, and barely recognize Anne-Marie and her friend Mickey waiting at the end of the Arrivals line. I am strongly inclined to make a mad dash for the doors: there have been no customs, no security checks, no strip-searching or interrogations or threats thereof. Yes, they inform me: welcome to the EU. I suppose their ''laissez-fairitude'' arises because everything invasive in other parts of the world (plants, animals, colonists) came from here in the first place.

... Knowing this is long already, I'll try to summarize even more briefly: 18 and 19 August are spent on catching up with Anne-Marie, who I haven't seen in a full year and half; and with her husband Juriaan, who I of course don't know as well (yet) but has had the kindness, generosity and naivete to welcome into his home another of AM's extended friends-family. Finally a teapot has been found that is sufficient for our appetities; much tea-drinking ensues, some grocery-shopping, and general very focused hanging-out. On Friday we spend the day doubling on the bike to the city hall (residency permit issues; boring) and then entertaining guests that she's invited over for me to know a few more people in the country. Mickey brings port. Lots of fun and good discussion ensues, then everyone goes home, except Mickey, who is staying. Juriaan retires to bed (wise move). The last three standing - AM, Mickey, and I - are up until 4:30 am before acknowledging, reluctantly, that we should call it a night if we are to function the next day. I discover to my delight that Anne-Marie can still be scared out of her wits by leaping out from behind a door.

21 August (Saturday) and 22 Sunday we've spent at Juriaan's cousin Jaco's house in Sauwerd, a 10-minute drive north of Groningen. His lovely tricolour collie Laika is an absolute dear, such a treat, and obedient to the nth degree. Wonderful companion.

Sauwerd is a lovely small town of about 1500 people, surrounding by countryside and even - gasp! - rolling hills, and bands of perfectly spaced poplar trees; flocks of Texel sheep and regal Dutch warmblood horses, hemmed in by canals choked full of cattails and duckweed. This afternoon we took a few hours to go into Groningen proper, see my new apartment (sadly, no one home), check out the city. It reminds me of Florence, Italy, with a more laidback sense of down-to-earth livability and functionality; less tourism and more day-to-day. O

It's all quaint in a very livable, quiet way: I recall writing once after arriving in Argentina, that anyone who goes south must ask, "Why go back?". After a few days, it seems that the same could be said here. Life seems more civilized, less rushed (this is confirmed by both residents and ex-pats alike); more geared towards living than surviving. I'm looking forward to getting started.

Tonight it's off to the Klubban Biological Station in Fiskebaeckskil, Sweden; Jaco and I will go by train to Haren, from where a group of students and our coordinator, Irma, leave on the bus at 9 for Gothenburg Airport.

More anon; I think that's enough for one (or 12!) days.

Counting down...

Just 10 days left to go: I've booked my ticket for August 17th, at 2 pm from Calgary International.

At the moment I'm looking out the window in a friend's in Vancouver, watching sheets of rain pummel the leaves, the roof, the deck; after a long, hot stretch of spectacular summer weather, another good thing has come to a (temporary) end. On the other hand, as over 400 wildfires blaze across the province, rain in itself is a pretty good thing, so it's hard to mourn. Just that I am, as ever, woefully unprepared for anything beyond a light breeze off the ocean. Hence the idea of hiking to the bus this afternoon on transit and en pied is not exactly rousing my motivation to get going.

And get going I must - I still have my life, spread throughout boxes, Rubbermaid totes, and my car, to organize, and a bag to pack. Yes, just one: Air Canada baggage restrictions allow a single piece of checked luggage. Although an extra $50 would get me another piece on the plane, I've decided it's not worth it to continue hauling two large bags around four (or more) different countries throughout the next two years, paying extra at each juncture. I'm taking it as a good life lesson in learning to live more simply, with fewer things, and (hopefully) better organization.

On Thursday or Friday Mom and I will head to Calgary to finish packing up my grandmother's house, where I've been living mostly full-time since the fall of 2008. That's a whole other story in itself (see mom's blog, www.annies.blog.com) for more info; the thought alone of going through more of a 30-year hoarder's supplies of complimentary airline packets (booties, showercaps, razors), Kleenex boxes, empty pill bottles, and dusty knickknacks stresses me out. All good things in their time.

So today will be my last truly restful part of a day for a good long while. I'll have a few long hours to read some books - hopefully finish up Shashi Tharoor's fabulous fictional historic account of the British Raj in India, "The Great Indian Novel", in order to pass it on. Maybe do some writing - I've published a short article on ruins in Peru in a friend's online magazine, www.slackeye.com, and would love to do more. Many, many other things I could do, could "should" myself to do, but for today some R&R is in order. Frankly the thought of doing, or attempting, anything else is exhausting: the last four days, or ten, or four weeks, or more, have been nearly constant whirlwind. Today will be a day, instead, for some mindful quietude before the frenzy.