Changes, changes

Yikes! This all happened fast. A week ago, I went to Munich thinking I'd use the opportunity to practise interviewing, and here I am, officially in possession of my first job.

Signed, sealed, delivered, I'm their's.

Funny how life sometimes takes unexpected turns, and suddenly you find yourself in a job you would have never considered, in a city that was never on your "Need to move there" list, and with a perspective on the next couple of years that is entirely different from what you had thought of. If you had asked me a few months, or even a few weeks ago, I would have told you something along the lines of "I am going to New York to change the world". Now, I am moving to the city of giant pretzels and beer in less than six weeks, and it's more myself that will develop and change within the next few years. However, changing the world is still at the top of my list, and I consider all the sales and management experience that I will get in the next few years a step in that direction.

The reality of it all hasn't quite hit me yet, and I would be lying if I said that I am not nervous and a little apprehensive. On the other hand, I got this job all by myself, and for the first time in my life I'm on my own, looking to build my life independently of anyone else.

I have a feeling that it will be a good experience.

Coming up...

1) A new brother-in law in July next year. Anna and Alfonso got engaged a month ago, and this is how happy they are:


One thing is for sure: Their kids will be very, very skinny.


2) More decisions. One job offer is on the table, another one is in the works. They are entirely different (foreign policy/press and online media monitoring/sales), and there might be more coming up. One job possibly involves moving cities, the other one has very little to do with what I studied. And amidst it all, I am trying to finish my thesis and figure out whether I really want to put my interest in transforming society aside for the sake of getting some job experience and making some money.

Stem Cell Breakthrough

Following up on Saturday's Dolly story, here is another encouraging piece of news: Two separate teams of scientists in the US have apparently found a way to reprogram adult stem cells in a way that makes them pluripotent, meaning that they can turn into any kind of body cell. This was a characteristic that has so far been specific to embryonic stem cells, which was the main argument for ongoing research in that area, despite the moral issues. They have run successful tests with human cells, not animal cells - if this really works, all the arguments for ES research might be going down the drain as we speak.

Speaking of genius...

Here's a (translated) quote from Pia's Master's thesis on Aristotle's definition of happiness:

The perfection of a scientific discipline does not lie in accumulating yet more knowledge of details, but in recognizing the principles that are at its heart, and in contemplating the eternal.

A good reminder for someone who spends her days plowing through methodologies and statistics, the boring details of scientific research...

PS: Did you know that Aristotle defines happiness not as a state of being, but as an activity or a way of life? How cool is that...

Readable...?

Just took the Readability Test for this blog. It measures the level of education required to understand my blog.

The outcome surprises me.



Hmmm. The FT.com Economists' Forum Blog has college (undergrad) reading level.

Can't decide whether this is a compliment or a reason to worry.

Goodbye, Dolly

Continuing the recent trend on this blog of bringing up social and political issues, here is an article from today's Telegraph announcing that Prof. Ian Wilmut, one of the driving forces of therapeutic cloning and "father" of the clone sheep Dolly, has turned his back on his own plan to go forward with a certain form of therapeutic cloning called "nuclear transfer". His reasons are mainly practical, but he also mentions issues with "social acceptance" - the nuclear transfer method involves the use of surplus embroys from in-vitro fertilization, which are destroyed in the process.

The piece also features another (older) article by Wilmut on the debate of whether blastocysts (early-stage embryos) can really be referred to as persons. This is really the crux of the matter - if they are persons, there is no question that to destroy them means to kill human life. But are they? Wilmut makes the following distinction:
"The main reason why I do not regard a blastocyst as a person is that it has no mental life. [...] The critical issue is when this capacity to think first appears." He talks about "brain birth", the mirror image of "brain death", which is the irreversible end of all brain activity, and the point after which a person can be officially declared as dead.

What is wrong with this view? I am no scientist, nor am I a theologian, but to me linking the "personhood" of a human being to its brain activity seems dangerous, especially when we are talking about the beginning of human life. Concerning its end, things are pretty straight-forward: When we die, the body ceases to function, and the person that we used to be ceases to exist on this earth. If another person or object is the cause for this death, we usually refer to this person as "having been killed".
At the beginning of life, however, we are dealing with something (or, although it seems strange to call a mass of cells that, someONE) that, regardless of its mental abilities, will, under normal circumstances, keep developing until, even to the most practically minded, it is clearly identifiable as a baby. Any impediment to this process puts an end to existing human life - human life that is unique, has a separate identity and is therefore necessarily a person.

Therefore, it seems that even to those that do not - like me - believe that every human life, from conception until natural death, is wanted and willed by its Creator, it must be clear that producing and destroying embryos for the sake of therapy involves ending lives that are already in progress. Distinctions between "pre-personhood" and "personhood", as Wilmut makes them, are irrelevant, because even if you look at an embryo not in terms of what it is, but of what it is becoming, one has no right to interfere with this process.

On the matter of brain activity and personhood, there is another great article by the philosopher Pete Colosi on Peter Singer and Utilitarianism. Definitely worth your time.

Also, especially for those who tend to think that the Catholic Church has no solid reasons for her positions, read this.

Any thoughts? (Lurkers, I know you are out there...)

Man, I feel like a woman

This Shania Twain song takes on a whole new meaning in the light of an (arguably tendentious) news story that recently caught my attention, reporting on the introduction of a bill in California that bans from classrooms "any instructional materials that reflect adversely upon persons because of their race, sex, color, creed, handicap, national origin, or ancestry". As usual, it is not the race, handicap, national origin or even creed, but the "sex" part that worries me. Why? Here goes:

This bill SB777 (signed, incidentally, by our very own export, the Governator himself) might seem to fit nicely into the P.C. trend of our times. But if you take a closer look, you come across the following definition of "gender":

210.7. "Gender" means sex, and includes a person's gender identity and gender related appearance and behavior whether or not stereotypically associated with the person's assigned sex at birth.

What does this definition imply?

1) There is no natural sex that is reflected in both the body and the mind. People are not born as men and women, they are assigned a sex at birth, according to a stereotype, or they assume an identity, meaning that they choose whether they self-identify as a man or a woman, regardless of their biological preconditions.
2) Consequently, there is no "normal" case of gender, meaning that one is wrong to assume that people that look like men are actually men, because sex now becomes a matter of definition, or even a matter of personal choice.

The implications of this bill reach from worrying (children will now be taught that it is discriminatory to naturally refer to parents as "mother and father") to freakish (a boy can choose to use a girls' locker room or bathroom if he self-identifies as female), but what really got me thinking is a point that reaches much deeper.

What we are faced with here is the introduction of an educational system that no longer acknowledges fundamental truths. Everything, according to this approach, is a matter of choice, a relative matter. There is no such thing as a natural man or woman, a natural set of parents (consisting of a mother and a father) - in fact, anything that one acknowledges as fixed, as eternal or natural is deemed discriminatory.

I don't only think that this approach is fundamentally wrong, I also think that it reflects the basic flaw of modern mentality very well: Everything depends on me, on my choices, on my will. There is nothing outside of myself that restricts me, unless I choose a set of rules among many that I will adhere to. But even then, there is no universal world order, no truth that exists for everyone, and independently of our knowledge of it, that even we as humans are subject to. Man has now truly established his (or wait, her?) position as the king of creation. The problem is, it doesn't end here. There are things that transcend human control and understanding, that we have no choice but to bow to in awe and reverence. And if the educational system keeps developing the way it is, children will have a very hard time finding out about them.

(PS: This would merit a whole other story, but read about the case of Bruce/Brenda/David Reimer as a disturbing example of what can happen when people mess with nature.)

Took that

I was never the type to cover posters of my favorite stars with lipstick kisses or imagine that Leo DiCaprio was my boyfriend. However, I did catch up on this particular phase of adolescence on Friday, when my roomie and soon-to-be bride Aglai and a gang of her ladies celebrated her engagement with High Tea and a Take That concert.

When we arrived to pick up the tickets, the saleswoman informed us that Howard Donald wasn't going to be performing tonight because he was hospitalized with a chest injury. Howard who? Yes, I asked that, too. The looks I caught for that one were sharp as daggers.

Anyway, we had a fabulous time watching the remaining three "boys" (who are almost in their 40s) put on a fabulous show, singing along to "Relight My Fire", "Never Forget" and "Everything Changes But You" like there was no tomorrow, and enjoying the giddy happiness of an average 13-year-old.

Right Brain vs. Left Brain

This is creepy. For a long time I stared at the dancer as it was turning clockwise, and didn't understand how anyone could see it turning counter-clockwise. Then I focused, and it switched!


So, apparently I use more of the right side of my brain, which has the following functions:

RIGHT BRAIN FUNCTIONS
uses feeling -- check.
"big picture" oriented -- check.
imagination rules -- hmm ... check.
symbols and images -- check.
present and future -- mostly, check.
philosophy & religion -- check, indeed.
can "get it" (i.e. meaning) -- check.
believes -- check.
appreciates -- check.
spatial perception -- most definitely NOT. Ask anyone who's watched me park a car.
knows object function -- ??
fantasy based -- Don't know.
presents possibilities -- impossibilities, mostly.
impetuous -- check.
risk taking -- Not really.

Interesting... it pretty much hits the nail on the head. The one left-brain thing missing on my list is "words and language".

Which way did the dancer turn for you?
(Thanks to mydogischelsea for the link)

Microfinance - do it yourself

Since Mohammed Yunus won the Nobel Peace Prize for giving the poor access to bank loans, microfinance has become a buzzword. The idea is simple: Microfinance institutions lend small amounts of money ($10-$500) to individuals or groups of people, usually women, in developing countries who in turn use the money to start their own little business and earn an income for their families. At a time where half the world lives on less then $2 a day, services like this one are sorely needed. Also, they are more than simple charity - they encourage people to take their lives into their own two hands and use their own ideas and resources to make a living.

Where there is one innovation, another one is soon to follow: KIVA.org started a website that enables everyone to be a mini-Yunus, so to speak. It lets individuals to pick from a range of different micro-enterprise initiatives in countries around the world and lend money directly to the entrepreneurs running these businesses. Ten dollars are enough to start, but you can go on to build an entire portfolio of businesses that you support.

Nicholas Kristof of the New York Times uses Kiva and went to Afghanistan to visit his business partner, who runs a bakery in the heart of Kabul. Here's a video of his adventure.

Playing it safe!?

A friend of my mother's who lived in the States for several years recently traveled back to New York to visit her sister. When showing her (European) passport at Immigration, she was told to follow an officer into one of the rooms for a separate interview. Surprised, she asked why they thought she needed to be questioned.

"Your first name is Eleanor, ma'am. That's an Arabic name."
"Arabic!? But I was born in Europe to European parents!?"
"Al-noor is Arabic for light, ma'am. I'm sorry, we will have to conduct a special interview."

Now that's what I call real dedication to Homeland Security.

The power of an image

"For me, the strength of photography lies in its ability to evoke a sense of humanity. If war is an attempt to negate humanity, then photography can be perceived as the opposite of war and if it is used well it can be a powerful ingredient in the antidote to war. "
- James Nachtwey

I saw a documentary on the war photographer James Nachtwey last night, and it really struck a chord. If you can, find a good video rental in your neighborhood, watch it and let me know your thoughts.

Update

I just realized that I stop reporting on my actual life whenever I am home. Somehow it just doesn't seem all that spectacular, and it probably isn't.

Everyday life at the Skypad (version 2.0, obviously) involves loooooong hours of staring into books and sifting through piles of paper on a quest to fill the digital pages of my thesis with words that stick. So far I've finished about a quarter of the paper, which is shockingly little given the fact that it is due in December, but I know that I can write, and I do it best when the pressure is on.

While having spent my college years in the glorious absence of the need to work for a living (thank you, mom and dad!!), bills are starting to pile up, and for the first time in my life I find myself working in actual, paid, non-volunteer student jobs: translating at conferences, hostessing (is that even a word? I know waitressing is), and - believe it or not - my first paid gig as a journalist. I am writing a feature article on Ashoka, and it's turning out to be a lot of fun. An odd detail: I've become so used to writing in English that I sometimes need to consult an online dictionary to find the perfect German word.

The quest for a real job is also on - and I am finding it tricky to overcome my good old technique of not even trying things that seem improbable and only going for safe options. The future is wide open - who know where in the world I will be six months from now?

Weekends are often spent at the Mill, trying to satisfy my newfound hunger for fresh air and nature. I guess that happens, especially if you've turned into a full-time nerd. There's nothing like a walk through vineyards, watching the leaves change color (and stealing the occasional grape or pumpkin, shame on me), to clear your head. I suppose "normal" students would prefer dancing the nights away at clubs and sleeping through the days, but in that respect - except for a crazy and fun spell of party fever in Madrid when I was seventeen - I was never normal.

Most of my good friends are married or engaged now, and life has become more quiet, but I like it this way.

PS: I have decided I will use my last semester at school to take Arabic classes. Don't know how much I will learn, but I've always wanted to get beyong haggling at the bazaar and explaining the way to taxi drivers (left, right, left, straight on, here is good, how much?).

Flashback

Around this time last year, I was in the midst of the glory that is Babson College life: beer pong, frat parties, homecoming parades, Make-Your-Own-Fishtank nights, Bingo tournaments, and women's rugby games.
My Swedish friend and fellow Babson exchange student Jesper put together a video that does a pretty good job at capturing a few defining moments of that semester. Here goes.

A brave lady

If you a) read German and b) are interested in the accounts of an incredibly brave young lady who scored her first job as a womens' development coordinator in Yemen ...

Check this out.

Leni and I do not only share a first name, but also a great-grandfather (I believe), and all I can tell you is that her adventures are worth a read.

Goodbyes.

When living a life like mine, which for the most part involved moving countries, houses and schools every few years, you'd think one would get used to goodbyes. The truth is, you never do.

What changes is the fact that you can anticipate how they will feel, the phases you'll be going through, and the (old yet important) truth that time does heal wounds. What also changes is the nature of these goodbyes, the depth of your attachment to a person, an idea or a dream, and consequently the pain of having to let go of them.

I have decided that I won't let the fear of goodbyes influence the way I approach things and - most of all - people, and the degree to which I open up to them. Of course, the more open you are, the more vulnerable you become, but I'd rather pass out what I have to give with both hands and look back onto a life rich with both disappointments and breathtaking surprises. After all, the more painful it is to let go of someone, the greater it was to have had them in your life in the first place. And that I wouldn't want to miss.

Sunsets and Castles

Just returned from a rather photo-worthy weekend, half of which was unfortunately spent without a camera. Thanks to the www, however, I'll give you a glimpse.

Friday: A beer and a good chat in a deckchair with Sharifin, against the backdrop of one of the most spectacular sunsets I have seen in Vienna so far.


Saturday: Sorted my life out.

Sunday: My roommate Aglai and her brand-new fiancé Felix invited me along to a concert at the old fortress where Felix's family has lived for 23 (!) generations. Eight of us spent the afternoon hanging out at the pool and playing tennis (or watching, respectively) while the bands soundchecked, had a fabulous dinner and then joined the crowd for some German rock.

Clam Castle

The courtyard

The room I spent the night in looked kind of like this, with a spectacular view of the Danube valley

Mid-air

While I am hanging in mid-air between college and professional life, enjoying home and wanting to move abroad, coming to terms with the past and taking on the future, my blog-spiration has run a little dry. Sometimes the more important events of life take place on the inside, and lose their magic when exposed to the world.

While I wait for the kiss of the muse, a random list of things not to miss:


College memories: Ross Douthat's "Privilege: Harvard and the Education of the Ruling Class" is a book that aptly describes much of what I experienced at Babson and could never properly put into words - the insane careerism of under 21-year-olds, the American undergrad's approach to sexuality, dorm life, grade inflation, and more. Still, it's an intensely personal book, courageously honest, laugh-out-loud funny at times, and filled to the brim with thoughtful, well-researched yet appropriately ironic analyses of the peculiar universe that is the Ivy League school. I enjoyed it a lot - not least because my boyfriend makes quite a few appearances, suitably (though, for those who know him, recognizably) hidden behind a pseudonym...


A different kind of roommate: The latest Audrey Tautou movie does resemble Amélie - a frail girl, - lonely yet social, sad yet always smiling, fragile yet strong. The story of three unusual roommates is a good character study and a heart-warming story, but European enough to never cross the line towards Hollywood kitsch.


Risotto gone French: My own roommate Aglai and I enjoyed a girl's night in last night, and devoured the leftovers of a dinner she had hosted the night before. Crêpes au citron are delicious enough, but the Gorgonzola and pear risotto that she made was the best thing I've eaten since New York sushi.

Why we are ostriches

"Life is difficult." This is the opening sentence of one of the most interesting books I have read this year - The Road Less Traveled by M. Scott Peck.
Observing readers might have spotted it already a few months ago in the "Books on My Pile" section of this blog, but it was only today that I was reminded of its brilliance when I spoke to my mother about the challenges of life and responsibility.

What Peck makes very clear (in a much better way than I can) is that we would stop lamenting the difficulties of life if we just accepted the fact that life is not a walk in the park, but a series of problems that require solving. That is why we pose ficticious problems to children in school - we mean to teach them the discipline necessary to confront the large and small hardships of life.
It is only because we refuse to accept this fact - or simply ignore it - that it comes back to haunt us. The pain of confronting an issue that we have ignored and that has grown out of proportion is much greater than the pain of going ahead an finding a solution in the first place. And still, like ostriches, we stick our heads into the sand and pretend that life is only really worth living when it's entirely enjoyable.

I am no exception. The more important something is, the longer it takes me to actually get my act together and do something. Job applications. Car repairs. Insurance issues. Long-overdue thank-you notes. Why? I have no idea ... I guess it is because I, too, want life to be easy.

However, if I think about it, this is exactly what I don't want. Life without challenges is life without growth. Peck quotes Benjamin Franklin as saying "those things that hurt, instruct". Looking back at my life, the challenging times were the ones that made me grow most. Moves. Breakups. University and career choices. Arguments with friends and family. Tough bosses. Criticism.

And, quite frankly, if it weren't for problems, life would be ... incredibly dull.

(Take advantage of Amazon's "Search Inside" option and read the first four pages of Peck's book here. They will make your mouth water.)

Images

As promised...

Steaks at Santa Cruz and a trip to the mountains
A few from Nono and Dominic's pre-wedding part
A Karaoke/Pub Quiz Nerd Fest to say goodbye to Bridge
The first batch from Zita and Domenic's wedding last weekend

Weddings

It's been a while.

Sometimes life is too full to blog about, and some things are better kept safely stored away in the heart and mind. All I can say is, life remains the trip that I expected it to be, with many unexpected twists and turns, wonderful surprises, and memorable experiences.

In the last few weeks, I have seen two wonderful women get married, one of them from first-row maid-of-honor seats. Both wedding ceremonies were deep, meaningful and a joy to be part of, and I am more convinced than ever that tying the know for life is an ideal that is not only desirable, but realistic.

Nono and Dominic, July 7th 2007

Zita and Domenic, July 21st 2007

Photo post with updates on other events of the past weeks coming soon.

Interlude

Between preparations for weddings, attempts at researching for the thesis, and spending time with my personal V.I.P.s, there isn't a lot of blogging time.
We spent a spectacular weekend up in the mountains at my uncle Fritz's place a couple of weeks back, but all designated photographers have to far been unable to download and distribute the pictures. There's still hope that I will be able to post a few breathtaking photos from our hike and the evenings of Schnaps-drinking, card-playing, dancing and accordeon-playing in Fritz's living room very soon.

For now I leave you with a spectacular gift idea for people who just don't want to believe that life is beautiful.

(c) Despair.com

Interreligious dialogue

Last week, the US Undersecretary of State for Public Diplomacy, Karen Hughes, stopped by in Vienna on her tour through Europe (which, by the way, consisted of three days in Prague and two in Vienna). The purpose of her visit was to promote interreligious dialogue in Europe in the name of the American government.

Hmmm. I know.

Anyway, the editor-in-chief of the Catholic youth magazine I write movie reviews for called me up to ask me whether I wanted to represent the Christian side in an interreligious youth panel discussion held at a mosque in Vienna. Free (kosher) lunch, a chat with Karen Hughes, and national TV - how could I say no?
Narcissism aside, what I was really interested in was the interreligious discussion side of things, and how an such an event when organized, amongst others, by the American Embassy would turn out.

To relieve the suspense, I was a bit disappointed. Sure, there were highlights.
Michael, the Jewish panelist, had never been to a mosque before. In his religion, it is forbidden to enter churches or temples of other religions. He was genuinely touched by the hospitality of the Imam and the Muslim community.
I, for my part, think it might have been the first time ever that Jesus Christ was discussed in a mosque, at least in Vienna, and I enjoyed meeting youth leaders of other faiths.
Thirdly, the fact that a mosque opened its doors to a discussion like this was a sign of readiness for dialogue that people need to see.

However, the whole thing boiled down to the general assertion that there weren't, in fact, many significant differences between the three Abrahamitic religions, and that the ones that existed didn't really matter. I respectfully but firmly disagree. If we are going to leave aside the obvious differences between the religions, what are we left with to discuss?
I am all for connecting on a personal level, becoming more familiar with other faiths, and understanding in a deep and real way the motivations and philosophies behind other forms of worshipping and serving God - because, lets face it, suspicion and hatred feed on ignorance and fear.
But there are things I love about my faith that are central to it, and that other faiths do not share. I am not willing to pretend that these things do not matter, because they are at the very heart of my religion, and - maybe more importantly - an essential part of its beauty and truth. I am sure that Muslims and Jews feel the same, and it would be sad if they didn't, because their faith would mean little to them.

Unfortunately, between speeches on interfaith dialogue and accolades for U/S Hughes, there wasn't much space to talk about this. However, thanks to a comment from the audience (my mother, to be exact), I was able to squeeze in a quote that I think sums it up very well. It is a section from an article by Rabbi Jacob Neusner. He wrote a book called "A Rabbi Talks with Jesus", where he imagines that he listens to Christ's Sermon on the Mount and then enters into an intense dialogue with him, trying to understand his teaching from the perspective of a devout Jew. At the end of the book, he decides that he cannot follow Jesus, and must remain faithful to his religion - but not before he has earnestly tried to understand what Christ said. Here's the quote:

"Both Jews and Christians should find in "A Rabbi Talks with Jesus" the reason to affirm, because each party will locate there the very points on which the difference between Judaism and Christianity rests.What makes me so certain of that outcome? Because I believe, when each side understands in the same way the issues that divide the two, and both with solid reason affirm their respective truths, then all may love and worship God in peace - knowing that it really is the one and the same God whom together they serve - in difference."
(Read the full article. More interesting reading material on the subject: Sandro Magister's take on things and chapter five of Pope Benedict's latest book Jesus of Nazareth)

For those of you who speak German, here's a little video of the event.

And, as always, I am very much interested in your thoughts.

Music

Music expresses that which cannot be said and on which it is impossile to be silent.

-- Victor Hugo

Entertainers or egomaniacs?

This blog has turned into a quite boring series of rarely entertaining personal updates. I've been thinking: What is the reason for writing a personal blog? Why should one expect one's personal life to be interesting to others? And, lastly - how healthy is it to put one's own, relatively unimportant life at the center of a globally accessible website?

I think it was Mother Teresa who once suggested trying to go for a day without talking about oneself. To me, that seems nearly impossible! Also, I am not sure it is necessary. Still, the line between writing for the entertainment of others and falling into the trap of narcissism is thin.
I started this blog for various reasons - as a creative outlet, a space to play with a language that is not my own, an opportunity to express thoughts and describe incidents worth sharing, and a way to keep my internationally dispersed friends and family updated.
It works, but sometimes a weeklong lack of inspiration or material, combined with the desire to keep readers interested, results in a bunch of entries that are not really worth anyone's time.

So there.

Still, there's news.

The Skypad, version 2.0. It's not quite a clone of its original in NYC, maybe more like a second cousin. However, we are surrounded by luxury - a rooftop deck, views on church steeples and green hills, an open, airy living space, nice little rooms and even gems like wireless internet and an alarm system. Aglai and I have been living here for a week, and we really enjoy it! I also love having mom and Anna over for sunbathing and banana bread, and inviting Matthäus for a quick study break and lunch. Here's the photo tour.

Civil wedding. That "yes" doesn't really count yet, but Nono and Dominic said it anyway at the registry office yesterday morning, and now they are officially Mr. and Mrs. Pott. Scary, but great! Can't wait to see them walking down the aisle (or waiting at the other end, respectively) on July 7th - it's my first gig as maid of honor, and I do think I might have to fight off a few tears.

C'est tout. Any thoughs on the blog issue? Fellow bloggers? Lurkers? Random passers-by? Feel free to gush.

Finale

Pentecost weekend was spent enjoying a good read, the sun, long conversations in the hammock, fierce badminton matches, a BBQ, long walks, driving lessons, strange movies, the company of Marie, Jan, Bridge and Paula and also the family, which was complete for the first time since late August last year.

If everything goes smoothly and the weather holds up, the movers (yes, I caved) are coming tomorrow, and I should be sleeping in my new room for the first time tomorrow night.

Arabian nights

Picture a harem chamber somewhere in the depths of an Arabian city. The rhythm of pipes and drums, the swinging of coin belt-adorned hips, hands painted with henna, dimmed lights and the smell of shisha smoke, perfume and camel dung.

This was the setting of Nono's bachelorette party, which went down in our living-room-turned-serail yesterday. There were mountains of food, harem pants, beaded slippers, bare bellies, and a lot of shimmying and hip-shaking. Two harem teams were fighting for camels, which they needed to collect in order to earn the right to get married to Sheikh Dominic (Nono's fiance). The battle was fierce, and there was some haggling in the background, but they fought well and "Harem Aruus Al Nono" won the prize for the bride-to-be. We even had a eunuch to serve us drinks and work the video camera, but his identity will be kept a secret for the sake of his male reputation. All I can say is, he stood his ground like the real man that he is (and he is, don't you worry). [Pictures and videos are still being edited, but expect some fun shots in the near future.]

In other news:

• The move still isn't finished, mainly because my bed, wardrobe and desk don't fit into my car. However, chances are that I will be a citizen of Skypad II within the next week.
• Anna has returned from India, loaded with bangles, beaded slippers and beautiful fabrics of all sizes and colors. I am realizing that after nine months, it is good to have my sister around again. The stories will take a while to tell, but I am looking forward.
• Pentecost weekend will be spent at the Mill with the family, a guest from Portugal and Bridge, a friend from the States who is in Vienna for two months. The weather is great and I can't wait to get away from the humidity and the construction noise.
• I PASSED MY LAST EXAM! Just barely made it, but it's over, and now there is only the thesis left to write. Oh, it feels good.

Define "slim"

Remember I was planning on a slim move? Well, it turns out I am having trouble defining that word. So far the box count is up to four, and only half the room is empty - not counting in two huge Ikea bags of clothes and a pile of shoes. You would think that the eternal jeans-and-t-shirt girl is not part of the shoe collectors' guild. Well, dear friends, think again.
However, in between all that dust and cardboard, moving does provide for a few sentimental journeys: Old journals, photos, post cards, and even a love letter or two.

Wish me luck. Having to hire a moving service equals personal (oh, and financial) defeat.

Changes

I was planning a big "Hooray, I am done with exams forever" type of post, but alas, it seems that last exam is quite a chunk of work and just doesn't want to be passed. Results are out on the 22nd, lets see what the future holds.

Apart from that, I am starting to prepare for the big move to my very own Skypad in two weeks, which means getting rid of piles of junk that I have been hoarding in my closet and desk for the past seven years. This will be a slim move, and only the necessary things will be taken along. I will probably laugh at the amount of stuff I deem necessary once it comes to carrying boxes up to the fourth floor... Oh well.

Summer is here, and I enjoyed my city once again as I was having lunch in beautiful Volksgarten yesterday with my father and then spent the afternoon lazily walking around downtown with Isabel. Sharifin couldn't believe that a day of laziness made me tired, so we wrapped up the day with a drink or two and cozy deck-chair conversation on the banks of the Danube canal at Strandbar Herrmann. This place reminds me of a few international friends that I spent my evenings with in this same place last year. Now they are gone to faraway places like DC, Sydney and Madrid.

Life changes, all the time.

What counts

My sister returns from India in three weeks, and recently spent a week in Calcutta with the Missionaries of Charity (aka sisters of Mother Teresa). We didn't know whether to laugh or cry when we read her stories, given that the one thing she absolutely despises are worms, and some of her activities included picking them out of searing wounds... I will spare you further descriptions.

Here is a quote from her report:

"The atmosphere at work is hard to describe. Every day it happened that one of the patients I was feeding simply gave me a hug afterwards. Or that another patient didn't want anything else but to have me sit down next to her for a while and hold her hand. Or that someone suddenly put her hands on my head, mumbled a toothless "God blesssss you" and heartily kissed my hand.
You recieve so much from these people, who have nothing to give but their love and gratitude. It's true what Mother Teresa said: We have not come to the poorest of the poor to give, but to recieve. We need them more than they need us. That hits the nail on the head."

Monks who play punk

I've written about them already, but now they're getting big publicity: Check out this article on the front page of today's New York Times City section.

I went to the Catholic Underground a few times and was amazed every time at how deep these monks are, while managing to send crowds of 500+ teenagers into fits of laughter. It is not surprising that dozens of men want to join that order each year - they are serious about what they believe in, they live it, and they are so fulfilled by it that it shines through in their eyes and in every word they say.

Images

Finally, a few photos.

Farewell brunch in New York, March 17th. (more)


Medjugorje, Palm Sunday weekend. (more)

In case you don't know yet, late spring is the best time of year to be in Vienna. So, if you live here, get out your bike and go for a ride. And if you don't, get out ... well ... your credit card and buy tickets.

Catching up

I've been a real slacker on the blog - but somehow sometimes real life is full enough and does not need constant documentation on the web. Just some quick highlights of the past weeks:

Medjugorje. A little village in Bosnia where the virgin Mary is said to appear. Believe it or don't, but all I know is that this place gives you peace, the type of peace that reaches far deeper than regular relaxation does. I went there with a lot of questions, and came back with only little tiny fragments of the answers I expected, but a general consciousness that I needn't worry.

Easter. Anna, the eternal Easter egg duel champion and passionate chocolate bunny hunter, was sorely missed, and her absence gave the whole thing a bit of a grown-up flavor. She, in the meanwhile, was exploring the jungles of Tamil Nadu with her boyfriend Flo. Nevertheless, we had fun dying eggs with a few cousins, and enjoyed the family, the food and the brilliant weather at the Mill.

New place. In May, I will be moving out of the sibling apartment into a bit of a Skypad of my own. I'll be sharing an amazing little duplex on the roof with Aglai - complete with a balcony to sunbathe (oh yeah) and have breakfasts on lazy Saturday mornings. It still needs some work, but Aglai the styler will surely do a brilliant job.

Life in Vienna is good. New York has its irresistible charms, but there is something about the slow-paced charm of this city that gets me every time. Dodging horse-drawn carriages in the streets, people sitting around lazily in coffee houses, and a view of a beautiful gothic church from the window of the century-old university library... add in real summer weather in April, and try to beat that.

Resurrection

AS kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame;
As tumbled over rim in roundy wells
Stones ring; like each tucked string tells, each hung bell’s
Bow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name;

Each mortal thing does one thing and the same:
Deals out that being indoors each one dwells;
Selves—goes itself; myself it speaks and spells,
Crying What I do is me: for that I came.

I say more: the just man justices;
Keeps grace: that keeps all his goings graces;
Acts in God’s eye what in God’s eye he is—
Christ—for Christ plays in ten thousand places,
Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his
To the Father through the features of men’s faces.

- Gerard Manley Hopkins

Settling in, and out again

I'm settling in, slowly but surely. Kicked off my thesis project and took my last course ever. Caught up with most of my friends - including Aglae with a big belly (son due in June) and Isabel, the brand new fiancée (wedding in September). Spent the weekend shovelling gravel at the Mill and enjoyed the company of my family, minus Anna who is still working as a nurse in a hospital in Jalandhar, India.
Back to the busy life.

However, Easter is around the corner, and I'll be hopping on a bus to Medjugorje on Friday to spend a long weekend in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing but shrubs, hills, silence and prayer. Given that about 40 of us are going, there will surely be time for fun as well, but I am really looking forward to some peace and quiet, and some quality time with the Man Upstairs.

I'm home

Back to the city of Käsekrainer, coffee houses, horse carriages, church bells, bakeries, grumpy waiters, and slow pace. The place where walking for five minutes actually gets you someplace. Where your cup of coffee comes with a complimentary glass of water and a silver spoon. Where you can live on thirty euros for almost a week. And where no one wears sweats.

Yet, I am missing things.

The buzz. Skyscrapers. Sushi. Food deliveries. Warm, fuzzy towels fresh from the dryer. Central Park. Diversity. Lights and colors. Ziploc bags. Paying by credit card. Grand Central Station. Dog walkers. Smiles. The sea. Yellow cabs. Conversations with strangers. Free refills. Fireplaces. Friends.

What I don't miss:

Coffee in paper cups. Having your check slammed down the second you swallow your last bite. Overcrowded subways. Trash. Paying for received calls. Dodging deadly umbrellas on crowded sidewalks when it rains. Smoke detectors. Doors that lock "the wrong way". The things they call bread. Taxes. Skim milk.

Funny how it takes a while until home feels like home.

See you, New York

A fun brunch with 20 friends
St. Paddy's Day parade watching
Conversations by the fireplace
A long walk in the park
Some pub-hopping and Guiness-drinking
Breakfast and brunch, consecutively
Two churches
Coffee at Penelope's
Wiener Schnitzel
Emma
Hugs
And a few tears.

I'm going home, but I'll be back.

Quirks

New Yorkers are a breed of their own. If you pay a few bucks extra, you can get anything you want here - and directly to your doorstep, too: the paper, food, drinks, groceries, videos, you name it. In fact, I recently saw a sign in a shop window: "I want it all, and I want it delivered."
It gets better, though.

Try nine-year olds at beauty salons, getting their nails done.

Or rain coats, "party collars" and faux fur (!) designer coats for dogs.

But think what you may, citizens of the Big Apple do have a sense of humor, paired with real dedication to the cause. Here are a few examples I stumbled upon myself in the past weeks.

The Naked Cowboy, who stands on Times Square, rain or shine, in white speedos, boots and a Stetson, playing his guitar and posing for tourists.

A young guy I recently spotted on the subway one early Saturday morning, carrying a long black bag on his back. When asked what he was carrying, he pulled out a giant, "custom-made" light saber and demonstrated a few moves he had learned in his light saber fighting club.
Missed that photo op, unfortunately.

A loving fiancee who dedicated a bench in Central Park to her future husband:


And, lastly, a scribbled response to a graffiti statement:


Gotta love it.

On a different note, between trips to Yale, DC and last minute errands, time is flying by. The next blog (including pictures from the past weeks) might already be written from my room in Vienna - hard to believe!

In short

It's been a while, and a lot has been going on. Just a few snapshots:

Work. I wrapped it up last Wednesday, and it has been a good experience. Met amazing people, made valuable contacts, learned a bit more, and had many opportunities to observe how nonprofits are managed around here, which in many ways seems fundamentally different from the way it is done back home. I've streamlined my questions for my thesis a little, and I am ready to go when I get home. I was spoiled rotten with a tasty Japanese farewell lunch and a Starbucks mug with the NY skyline on it, courtesy of David, the cool program director.

Meetings. One of the great results of my time at Babson and the internship is the fact that I kept meeting people who were interested in performance measurement in nonprofits (my thesis topic) and were willing to share what they know. This morning, I had the chance to meet with Michael Caslin, who teaches a course on Social Entrepreneurship at Babson this semester and works for NFTE, an amazing organization committed to teaching entrepreneurship to disadvantaged youth. I had 20 minutes to get as much as possible out of him, which was tricky, but worth it. I have a few more interesting meetings coming up before I leave the Big Apple on the 19th.

Pia. Her visit significantly raised my museum, opera and concert quota, and I think I have become a bit of a culture buff under her supervision. However, it was the fact that we could meet for coffee or lunch any time we wanted and have quality conversations that was the real treat. After having had an ocean between us for two years, it felt really good to have her around for five weeks. Her, Colin, Bill and I made a fabulous team and had a ton of fun together - these times will be missed! We said goodbye with a suitably Bavarian Weisswurst brunch at Zum Schneider.



Classy. On a whim, Colin and I joined Bill for the Frick Ball last Thursday. The museum was festively decorated, we were served shrimps and champaign by the water fountain and wandered around among the Rembrandts, Bellinis and Holbeins in our tuxedos and evening robes. My H&M and Cairo bazaar combo was not nearly as classy as the designer robes of the other female guests, but it's the attitude that counts, isn't it? Here's the official account - don't take it too seriously.

Now I have a little less than two weeks left to wander around, read, think, see people and wrap up the six months in the land of hot dogs and oversized milk cartons.
They will be well spent.

Fooled me

People can say what they want, but spring is NOT here. Saturday was nice and sunny, but the wind was freezing and as I walked home yesterday the ground was again covered in snow. It isn't as romantic as it sounds in this city, where snow turns to slush in a matter of minutes and speeding cabs spray you with dirty water.

The weekend was an unusually cultured one, for my standards. On Friday I met Pia at the Guggenheim right after work to get tickets for the "El Greco to Picasso" exhibition on Pay What You Wish Friday. The queue went halfway around the block despite the icy winds, but those who braved it were rewarded with a really good collection of Spanish art from the 15th to the 20th century. We then rested our feet in front of the fireplace at the Skypad, where Colin and Bill were waiting with a great movie and a TV dinner.

Saturday morning Colin and I had brunch with Stew, who put me up on my first night in Boston six months ago. He was visiting for the weekend, and we showed him some Viennese breakfast quality at Sabarsky.
In the evening things became even more Viennese when Pia, the boys and I met for dinner and the Magic Flute at the Met. In my more cultured years, when I was eight or nine years old, I remember lying on my stomach in front of my parents' stereo listening to that opera. The art director, Tony-winner Julie Taymor who also did the set design for Lion King, really managed to turn that old story into a magical fairy tale with her dancing puppets. After three solid hours of Mozart we turned to some live jazz and had a drink at the Carlyle. We brought the age average down by about 50% in that place, but loved it nevertheless.

On Sunday morning we dragged our sleep-deprived bodies out of bed for oatmeal and Eggs Benedict at Balthazar, followed by Mass and an exhibition of a Mexican schizophrenic painter, Martin Ramirez, at the American Folk Art museum. I had never heard about or seen outsider art before, and was pretty impressed by the talent of a poor Mexican immigrant who was locked away in a mental ward most of his life and refused to communicate in any way except through his artwork.

Finally, we put some "pop" into our cultural mix and watched the Oscars with Thierry, who is a film producer and also happens to be a friend of Florian Henckel-Donnersmark, who took home the little golden guy for this year's Best Foreign Film.
There was a lot of cheering and toasting.

It smells like spring

Colin promised that I wouldn't leave New York without catching a glimpse of spring. It seems like this might be true. The sky is clear, temperatures are rising and I heard birds chirping for the first time as I walked over to the Amish market to pick up some lunch yesterday.


Pia is leaving new York next Sunday, so we need to start some serious planning if we want to cram everything we've wanted to do into these last seven days. And although it's Lent, there's no shortage of things to do: Last night Geoff invited us to his one-room apartment for some real Italian dinner. The official reason was to say goodbye to Jeff, who we then discovered will be returning to New York in three weeks - hopefully in time to send me off with a proper St. Paddy's Day celebration. The good food and company was spiced up by Geoff's musical talent - who needs a stereo when you can have it all live, and of the highest quality! We did some singing, too, which felt good after a long musical hiatus on my side. [Photos]

Plans for the weekend:
Guggenheim Museum - finally
The Magic Flute at the Met tomorrow night
Early-morning breakfast at Balthazar
Maybe a visit to the Russian Bath

Never a dull moment in this town.

Decisions

decide from Latin decidere "to decide," lit. "to cut off", from de- "off" + cædere "to cut"

With a little more than three weeks to go until I end my six-month stint in the States, and with Lent finally slamming the brakes on the whirlwind that is my life, questions in need of answers are creeping back into my mind. Thesis topics. Career plans. Living arrangements. Friendships. Relationships. Possibilities and options galore, but things need to be decided.

A friend told me the other day that the root of the word "decide" comes from the Latin word caedere - to cut. A decision, consequently, involves finding out what matters and what doesn't, choosing a path and ruling out other options, and sometimes even severing the ties with things that you hold dear.

That's scary, and sometimes I'd rather just stick my head into the sand and have things work themselves out. On the other hand, I was brought into this world for a reason - this is something I strongly believe. I have been given talents and skills that are meant to turn this huge blank canvas that is my life into a gift worthy of God's approval.

The good things is, it doesn't all depend on me. All I need to do is make myself available.

Graphic update

So much to say, so little time. The weekend was eventful, Mardi Gras is being enjoyed while it lasts, and I still haven't decided on my Lenten resolution.
Until I find time for a proper update, here are the latest photos.
They are a bit scrambled, but I hope the captions do the trick.



Enjoy!

V-Day

I've always looked at Valentine's Day with a healthy amount of grudge and ridicule. First of all, I am not a big fan of pink. Or hearts, for that matter. Secondly, at least in Europe, it is a holiday that has been embraced by various manufacturers of candy, greeting cards, perfume and underwear more than by ordinary people.

But, as the say, when in Rome, do as the Romans do. Pia and I are no slackers, so we went and cooked up a fantastic meal for our two favorite men (and perpetual hosts, it seems) in the city. We did the Full Monty: shiny red heart garlands hanging from the chandelier, candles, a fire in the fireplace, and some fine Paolo Conte playing in the background.

The menu.
Aperitivo: Bite-sized Bratwurst bits with a heart-shaped dijon mustard dip by the fireplace, with a glass of Riesling.
Ouverture: Grilled goat cheese on a bed of baby spinach leaves, drizzled with honey.
Main course: Linguine with grilled shrimps, zucchini and cherry tomatoes in a sauce of capers, garlic, parmesan and olive oil.
Interlude: A vicious snowball fight on the roof terrace, waltz lessons in front of the fireplace, and Frank Sinatra sing-alongs.
Grande Finale: Kaiserschmarren with apple sauce and a good, hot cup of tea.

I think we feel better about each other now, St.Valentine and I.

Sleepless

In the City That Never Sleeps, I hardly ever sleep either, it seems.

Thursday found us watching the second part of the six-hour marathon that is "La Meglio Gioventu" (The Best of Youth), certainly one of the best films I have ever seen. Of course, brainy nerds that we are, we had to discuss the movie for another hour after it finished, which meant that we didn't get to bed until 2am.

I dragged myself through Friday at work, perfecting the rest-chin-on-left-hand-and-right-hand-on-mouse nap, and met up with Pia afterwards for a Veggie Burger at Spring Street Restaurant. From there, we headed to the Friday Happy Hour at The HappyCorp, a SoHo design company that opens its doors to those who know about it on Fridays and serves free drinks to a colorful crowd of art students and other interesting fellows. Sascha knew about it and told us where to go, so we met up with him and his Cooper union friends, and also got to know a few other memorable folks. Saad for example, whose name means "happy" in Arabic, and who frequents hipster clubs in Lower Manhattan on weekends. During the week, he works at Deutsche Bank, and I do hope he adapts his look to his corporate surroundings, because I couldn't believe it when he pulled his business card out of the pocket of his oversized white fake fur coat.

Pia, Saad and Sascha

Sascha's roommate Charles and happy party kids

On Saturday morning Pia and I got up early and stood in line for an hour and a half to get last-minute tickets for Paco de Lucia at the Carnegie Hall. Pia's friend Mark de Young joined us and we warmed up with New York's best hot chocolate and soft boiled eggs at Le Pain Quotidien before Pia and I took off to take advantage of the good weather and walk across Brooklyn Bridge. Making your way across a 500m long wooden walkway with hundreds of cars passing through underneath you is exciting enough, but having the Manhattan Skyline as a backdrop is quite a sight to see. (Photos to follow)

The Passion Fruit margharita that Bill treated us to before the concert that night felt very Sex and the City (mainly because my jeans and cowboy boots lost the battle against the serious Prada and Gucci action that was going on around us), and from there we climbed up to the dizzying heights of the Carnegie Hall gallery to see the world's best Andalusian guitarist work his fingers. Spicy (!) Buffalo wings and milk shakes at Brooklyn Diner concluded the night out, and the gang said goodbye to Mark and Sam and retreated to the Skypad, where we watched the remaining hour and a half of La Meglio Gioventu before collapsing into bed.

On Sunday we finally introduced Pia to Central Park, snuck into the Mandarin Hotel Bar to get a nice view of the park from above, and saw a (rather disappointing) exhibition on Slavery in New York and 9/11 relics at the New York Historical Society.

Needless to say, that night I slept very, very well.

Memorable

If my weekdays were movies, yesterday would have won the Oscar. It was one of those days that finds you lying in bed at night, feeling like you have witnessed something fundamental.

I am currently interning with the Scholar Rescue Fund, an organization that gives grants to scholars and academics who are being persecuted in their countries for different reasons: "Modern" views, religion, ethnicity, involvement with international agencies, human rights defense ... you name it. Since its inception in 2002, the program has rescued 110 scholars from 37 different countries and has found them places to teach in great schools all over the world. Recently, however, for obvious reasons, there has been a sudden surge in the number of Iraqi applicants. We are working on creating a report on academic repression worldwide, and I have been studying the life stories of these 110 grantees for the past month and a half and compiling data, trying to find patterns or connections between the situation of these brilliant and brave people and the promblems in their countries.

Yesterday we presented our findings to the SRF board of directors, a diverse group of interesting people: the former Dean of the University of Pittsburgh Medical School, the former senior VP of the Ford Foundation, the director of scholarships of the Open Society Institute, the President of the International Rescue Committee , and so on. The star of the evening, however, was Donnie George, the former director of the Iraq National Museum in Baghdad, who was all over the news when people looted the museum in the early days of the war and carried away or destroyed many invaluable cultural treasures. He was targeted by militias for cooperating with the US, had to flee his country, now teaches in the States and gave a little report on the situation of scholars in Iraq. I tell you, it is something else when you hear these stories first hand. (Read a great Washington Post Op-Ed piece by another of our Iraqi grantees here.)

After an afternoon of meetings, I changed into comfy jeans to meet Pia and a group of WYA interns for Polish food and a visit to the boys of Grassroots Films, an independent film company in Brooklyn run by a bunch of guys, partly coming from difficult backgrounds. They live together in a house and make amazing stuff. Most of them are Catholics, and their movies are pretty powerful. They are now working on their first full-length movie called The Human Experience and showed us some test shots and a teaser. I'd heard a lot about them since they are friends with guys from YOU!Mag, so it was great to meet them in person. We realized that we had quite a few common friends! Small world.

And, finally, I leave you with a quote I have been thinking about a lot lately: "Excellence means asking of oneself more than others do." - Jose Ortega y Gassett
Have I ever really strived for excellence? Is exceeding the expectations of others really all there is to excellence? Or is it more about finding and taking up that unique place in the world that I am meant to fill?

"If you are what you should be, you will set the world ablaze."
- Pope John Paul II.

Ice Age III

I am a proud citizen of an Alpine nation, but this past weekend, I have had to discover that it gets much, much colder in other parts of the world.

Plans for a Friday night tour of the East Village literally froze mid-planning, so Geoff, Jeff, Mark, Pia and I spent the entire evening at Rue B instead, guzzling down several glasses of wine and being slightly surprised by the stiff bill that ensued. Nevertheless, a little jazz band that played on an impressive 3-by-3-ft. "stage" and good conversation about hidden New York gems, bird-shaped cities, and marriage made it worth while.

Saturday was kicked off with scrambled eggs and much-needed advice at Cafe Sabarsky with Colin, followed by an oh-so-freezing Staten Island Ferry ride with Pia. After nearly being blown off the boat, we braved icy winds and made our way up to Bleecker Street via Ground Zero and Wall Street. With no feeling left in our hands, toes and faces, we stumbled into Caffe Vivaldi for a hot chocolate, delicious carrot cake and a roaring fire. The day ended with coq au vin and apple pie (courtesy of Scott and Morag) at the Skypad. Due to bachelor-pad-induced lack of furniture, I sat on an upside down laundry hamper.

On Sunday we had brunch at Le Pain Quotidien, went to Mass and after being treated to delicious West Side sushi by my new landlady Alexandra, I spent the rest of the afternoon writing letters and hanging out in front of the fireplace at the Skypad with Bill, Colin and Pia. The boys didn't seem to mind the interruption of their habitual weekend silence, and we wrapped up the weekend with a good movie and snippets of the Super Bowl, accompanied by chips and salsa, and the expert commentary of Bill.

A runny nose, sore throat and perpetually cold feet remain as reminders of Saturday's arctic expedition, but I already have new things to look forward to, like Standing Room tickets to Bellini's I Puritani at the Met tonight, with Anna Netrebko. Pia, the culture vulture, got us tickets, and one of the many benefits of her presence in New York is that she is forcing me to expand my cultural horizons beyond movie theaters, restaurants and jazz bars.

Once Upon A Time In The West

I always knew New York was diverse, but I wasn't aware of the fact that every neighborhood doesn't just look, it also feels completely different. I am lucky to be experiencing three very different environments during my stay here: First the Upper East Side, then Brooklyn Heights, and now the Upper West Side. I've moved all the way northwest right next to the beautiful Columbia campus, and am staying with Alexandra, a friend of my uncle's, and her son Antony in the former nanny's room. The area is full of gigantic, palace-like buildings, some of which are student dorms (!) and some faculty accomodation, like the house I live in. Walking along the breathtaking facades and peeking into lobbies with thick carpets, brass lamps and uniformed doormen makes me gasp, but actually walking in to one of these buildings is something I haven't yet gotten used to (and hope I never will).

After over a month of squeezing my belongings into a little leftover closet space or piling them up on top of dressers or chairs, it feels good to have my own private space for the last six weeks of my stay. I still expect to hear a cat snarling and hissing from time to time, but gladly I am only hallucinating...!

Pia arrived on Monday and it is great to have her around. How she manages to have a choice of three different invitations per night within a day of her arrival puzzles me completely - but I guess I'd better hang on to that girl, she is popular! So far we've done a little sightseeing around Times Square and Midtown, had delicious mojitos, and went to see a screening of The Mission at the MoMa Film Museum yesterday. Ennio Morricone composed the soundtrack and was supposed to give an introduction, but he had some sort of trouble with a concert and didn't show up. Still, I am enjoying the fact that he could have. Everything is possible in this city.
To top things off, Colin, Bill and Thierry treated us to some palate boggling Chinese food afterwards, complete with a frog on a log carved out of vegetables as a table decoration.

Plans for the weekend include some Guggenheim art and music tonight, a dinner at the Skypad tomorrow, and a little more sightseeing in between. My time in New York is halfway over, and I think I need to start making a To Do List to make sure I've seen all I've wanted to see.
On the other hand, my New York experience is so much more about people than sights and places - and that is exactly the way I like it.

Bye Cats, Hello West Side

It's time again. Three weeks have gone by so quickly, and I am moving out of the Cat Place tomorrow. Lets say we never exactly became friends, those kitties and I. They tolerated me (mostly), and I tolerated them (mostly). Diplomatic relations deteriorated when they tried to nibble on Amy and started ignoring the fact that they had a litter box, leaving me little fecal tokens of "appreciation" all over the apartment at regular intervals. In total, however, I think the operation was a success, given that they are alive and healthy and I had a wonderful place to stay for three weeks. I will miss breakfast treats from Tazza, baba ganoush from Sahadi's and the skyline, but I'm ready to explore the Upper West Side of Manhattan.

By the way, I have finally uploaded photos from the past weeks.
Last days in Boston and first days in NYC
More Christmas with the Morans
A tour of Brooklyn Heights
The week with Amy
I've been lazy with the camera, so many things have not been documented. Nevertheless, it's a nice little overview of what we've been up to lately.

Pia arrives tomorrow night, so the fun goes on. It will be great to have her around - many a fun plan is in the making, some of which involve Woody Allen, music, history, and - of course - food.

Mornings in the City

Few things are as satisfying as managing to roll your tired body out of bed early in the morning to watch the city wake up. Amy is visiting this week, and among many other amusements, we got up at 6am today to have breakfast at Balthazar with Colin before heading off to work (or sightseeing, respectively). Giant bowls of latte, French toast with bacon, eggs Florentine and the world's best waffles with berry sauce surely put a spring in your step - especially if it is topped off with laughter and a sunny day in the Village.

Other activities of the week included

• brunch at Robin des Bois, a funky little antique-store-gone-breakfast-joint in Brooklyn, followed by a walk through the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens and a quick stopover at the B'klyn Museum
• long, cozy hours in front of the fireplace at the Skypad (Colin and Bill's apartment), drinking tea and wine, snacking away on crackers, watching movies and listing to arias on top volume with the lights turned down
• a high-quality conversation with dad during a quick lunch break over an Amish Market sandwich. There's nothing like a reality check with your parents to help get your thoughts organized.
• a spectacular three-course home-cooked dinner with the world's best babaganough from Sahadi's and some tasty wines
• massive amounts of dark and light ale at McSorley's Old Ale House, New York City's oldest bar with the boys, Amy and Papi and watching the State of the Union address in the company of Lower-Manhattan Bush haters
• a tour of Cooper Union by Sascha
• a Brussels reunion with Phil and Jeff tonight - of course, we will go play pool, ghetto-style. Just like old times at our Chaussee de Wavre intern flat.

Amy and Papi take off tomorrow - it's been great to have them around! One thing I've realized, though, amongst all the fun of having visitors: I am blessed with a group of great friends right here in New York, and they are really making every minute of my stay worth while.

[For those who are impatiently awaiting photos: I hope to finally upload them on the weekend!]

Quiet times

Not much news to report ... I had a quiet long weekend filled with brunches, lunches and dinners, plays, movies and house cleaning.
For a summary of current events, see the new sidebar on the right: Current Obsessions.

Off to another meeting with the billionaire. Maybe I can score an invite to the Virgin Islands? I could use some sun.

This and that

• The night after I bragged about having had a quality cat moment with Biggins, I forgot him outside. Thank God the patio is closed off and he couldn't run away, and the temperatures were cold, but bearable - so he survived, and seems happy as ever. Phew.
• My sister has arrived in India. She talks about wild monkeys, cows and elephants on the street, and curry for every meal, but she seems to like it. The hospital she is working at is not quite up to the Western standards of hygiene she is used to - but I know her, she'll find her place in a matter of days.
• On Thursday night I met up with Stephanie, a grade school buddy of mine from DC whom I haven't seen in 16 years!! She lives in a funky little place on Avenue C in the Lower East Side, and we had a read Bavarian beer at Zum Schneider and talked like we'd known each other for years. Which, technically isn't true... it's funny when the last memory you have of someone is a little blond seven-year-old with pigtails, and suddely you're faced with a grown woman - and I mean grown, she is about 6ft tall!
• Less than a week until Amy arrives! We met up in Paris last time, and New York it is this time! Any suggestions where to go next? (Preferably including cheap flights and free accomodation.)
• PIA IS COMING TO NEW YORK! She will be here for the entire month of February. We have seen each other three times in the past two years, so this will be great. And, to make things more extraordinary (only few of you will appreciate this): She will be working for my friend Bill Grace and living in the WYA house. Full circle.
• Did I mention I love New York? Here's another reason why: This city makes you fall in love with it over and over again. Once you think you've found out about the best spots, you come across more, and they are completely different, but equally fantastic.

Off I go. Time to deliver on my promise to get fit and go for a run. And after that, I think some book browsing and shop exploring in SoHo might be in order. This weekend will be a good one. Especially because, thanks to Martin Luther King, Monday is off.