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Catching my breath

Finally... a quiet afternoon when I can collect my thoughts, do some house chores and all in all relax a bit. I just finished a course in Microbiology. An extremely boring one, I might add. Come to think of it, that means it did not offer me much of a challenge. We had lectures, we had labs (boring as hell, pipetting from tube A to tube B, argh!), we had presentations about what we have done. Been there, done that, bought the T-shirt. What was actually amusing is how me and my lab partner cooperated. Well, we did not. It was an unspoken agreement that each of us is capable enough of completing one experiment without the help of the other. So we just divided the parallel experiments between us and turned our undivided attention towards them. Sometimes, when the lab assistants came to one of us asking how a particular experiment was going, they asked the "wrong" person. Some embarrassing moments passed like this. The presentations themselves were a lot of fun as well. I never use a manuscript when I present my work, so the presentation is always free for improvisation. At the last one I actually had to improvise all over my partner's part, since he got sick and was not able to come to the lecture hall. Whatever, one-man-shows are always fun.

Parallel with completing this course, I was busy with the International Convent in Uppsala. We were planing the welcoming week for the newly arrived international students. On Friday, me and another guy took a small group of around 9 people to one of the most interesting events in the student life here: the pub crawl. After the first pub, our group doubled in size. At all the other pubs we picked one or two additional drunkards, so in the end a tired mob of about 30 people crashed down at GH nation, having a great time. Several minutes later, all the other 200 international students participating in the pub crawl came in... and in the GH pub there is only place for 74. You figure out the picture for yourselves.

One day later, it was Albena's birthday party. Huge amounts of people laughing, talking, drinking, smoking, eating, but otherwise having a wonderful time. A hardcore group of not less than seven Bulgarians built up, laughing and roaring. Yay! I went to bed at 4, with about 4-5 hours of sleep until morning, when our nation organized an International Brunch for the same newly arrived foreign students. The kitchen was supposed to have stocked food for about 100 people. "Only" 70 of them showed up, which did not cause them any trouble to pick the trays clean of food. All in all, it was amazing.


Now I am trying to collect some strength to write an article for our nation's magazine. Tomorrow I start a course in Biochemistry, while simultaneously working at a biochemistry lab. I need to meet the financial adviser for the wine-tasting (or wine-wasting, as one friend puts it) society, then attend their year meeting. Ah, whatever, all of these things will happen in the future. Today I intend to enjoy every sweet second of my free afternoon. Bye!

Saving dumbsels in distress

Thanks to Albena for setting me with this story and inventing the word dumbsel, and to Petra for waiting for me at the garden.

Today, my closest friend here (come to think of it, she is one of my closest friends ever), was flying home to Bulgaria. I was charged with the honorary task of getting up at seven and making sure she wakes up. I was considering escorting her to the bus station... just to be sure that she was fine and on her way. Morpheus and Hypnos, however, had other plans. So, after waking her up, hugging her good-bye and wishing a safe flight and nice holidays, I succumbed to the temptation of Dreamland. At half past ten, my phone ran with the familiar melody of Nightwish's Moondance. There is only one person in the world that I have set this ringtone for. Yes, her.

It turned out, that she missed her bus for the airport with about two minutes. The next one, due in half an hour, arrived late and she was on Arlanda airport 25 minutes prior to take-off. The Austrian Airlines, God bless them in their helpfulness, refused to check in her luggage or to take her on the flight and leave the luggage behind. She was stranded on the airport, without a single coin in her pockets. And then she gave yours truly a call. Mounting my trusted steed, I reenacted several of the more breath-taking scenes from Mad Max, squeezing myself between cars and busses, people and buildings, traffic lights and excavating machines (don't ask). Upon arrival on the Uppsala train station, I realised I have covered the distance from home to the station in exactly seven minutes, lungs aching and legs trembling.

I locked my bike among the herd of other bi-wheeled pedal-powered vehicles and proceeded towards the building with a steady Captain Jack Sparrow pace. Once inside, I realised the next train to Arlanda was due to leave in exactly 3 minutes. I teleported myself at a cashier's desk, ordered a ticket with the best James Earl Jones voice I could manage and ran towards the train. I like running through crowds: when people see a two meters tall giant, wearing a leather jacket, leather gloves and leather military boots, run with gargantuan strides towards them, they step aside immediately. Several seconds after setting my foot on the train, we were off.

Twenty minutes later I was at the airport. I met with Albena, bought her a new ticket, checked her in, postponed my date for the afternoon and took her for a lunch. We got a huge plate of kebab meat and fries, enough to satisfy even my hunger. Somehow I managed to eat my lunch without even for a second seizing to talk complete and utter nonsense. It did a fine job, keeping her mind off what has transpired. Another person was sitting on our table, a cheerful elderly lady who desperately tried to eavesdrop on our conversation. It was not that hard, considering that we were talking loudly and laughing even louder, but... well, it was in Bulgarian. Not a very common language among Swedes, I might add. In the end, she could not take it any more and joined in, showing remarkable English skills. We had a nice laugh for about an hour and then parted ways.

After seeing Albena personally through the safety check, I realized it was 4 minutes until my bus back to Uppsala. This time I was not running, but my strides were still gigantic. Bumping briefly into a friend (it is a very small world, believe me) I rushed towards the bus station. Finally on the bus, I was actually able to read a bit, before disembarking in Uppsala. I called my date, met her for the arranged walk in the botanical garden and then went home with her for movie and a pizza. The botanical garden was actually still under reconstruction and hence closed for exhibitions but... let's say I had an inside man. Man, I love pulling strings.

When I remember my adventures with airlines from last year, I can truthfully say that waving someone good-bye can be just as perverted as actually traveling. But then again... what are friends for? I am eagerly looking forward to seeing mine in two days.

Random musings

There now. The Microbiology exam is over. I have spent the last two days recovering from an intensive study/work life and trying to tie up loose ends from my other activities. So now I have finally cleaned my room. It was such a jungle here, I could hear the war cries of small dust mite tribes clashing in titanic clashes under the contiguous layer of my notes. The epic Battle of the Seminar booklet is one to be remembered for generations to come. Or at least it would have if I had not "accidentally" vacuumed all the war monuments. It was actually thanks to my classmates that my room resembles a human lodging and not the lair of some ancient beast. I thrive in my chaos, but had to clean up a bit when they came for studying.

I attended the Nobel prize lecture this year (as well as the two previous years, but then I was not blogging). The three laureates received a prize for a discovery made twenty years ago, and some of them have spent more than half a century in the lab. This is sort of discouraging. I mean I would like to have my prize sooner and not when I am on a good way to being a walking dead. Note to self: get Nobel prize before turning 50! After the lecture I had to rush off to the castle, where the Nobel lunch was held. I actually served the coolest guy, prof. Oliver Smithies (the announcer at BMC called him "Smithers", to the utter delight of all Simpons fans). Now I can show off with that. Go me!

It is a harsh and beautiful winter evening outside. The sky goes from pastel blue to green-yellowish, and the moon is already in its zenith, halfway to full moon. According to some, this is the best time for magic, when the night illumination is divided in half, representing the duality of human nature. The trees are stretching bare branches, awaiting the spring with a patience only a dendrite possesses. Here I am, quietly mediating, listening to Christmas carols and staring into a candle flame. Tomorrow will be another busy day, full of tasks that need to be done. But right now time has stopped and there is a whole eternity of delightful seconds to experience. Be well, everyone!

Student cooking and nutrition

How does this peculiar breed of human beings sustain their existence is a very interesting question. A student kitchen is probably the place with most improvisations on a square meter in existance. Let us consider some typical food groups:

Beer
No doubt about it, it is good. It contains malt, which is a source of energy, and hops and alcohol, which are antiseptic. So it is both delicious and healthy - a rare combination. Furthermore, it can be used as a "hair of the dog", providing a precious jump-start on hangover mornings. One of Belgium's kings is famous for deciding that his subjects should drink beer, not water. This turned out to be a life-saver for many people, because water in these times was considered fresh when there was life in it and clean when all the frogs and tadpoles have been taken out. No need to study microbiology to imagine where this road goes. Hellooo, infections! So drink beer. It will save your life.

Coffee
Dual-use nutrient. It keeps you awake and functioning... well, in most of the cases at least. Me - I can drink half a litre and go straight to bed. In the dreadful situation that there is no more beer in the fridge when you awake after the wildest party ever, coffee can kick you in the head good enough to start your day.

Pasta
Another critical food. It can be combined with absolutely everything - sweet stuff, salty stuff, herbs, spices, ketchup (this is a whole group by itself), even au naturelle. The last one is only pasta without any additives and usually appears on the table a day or two before next payday. The advantages are that it is a really cheap and really fast way of providing carbohydrates. The disadvantage is that it gets boring soon. This, however, can be circumvented by eating different types of pasta: spaghetti, macaroni, tagliatelle and so on and so forth. It is still the same pasta, just the different shapes create the illusion of eating various foods.

For the ones with Asian preferences, there are instant noodles. Same as pasta, but made out of rice. Even faster but not always cheaper.

Ketchup
Universal spice. Goes on everything. When the amount of kethup exceeds that of the food, a ketchup abuse occurs.

Meat
Source of lipids and proteins. Usually found as a trace ingredient in hamburgers, salami, sausages, meatballs and other processed stuff. It is commonly combined with other animal parts, chemical stuff with at least fifteen syllables and good old starch.

Junk food
Chips, chocolate, salt sticks, cookies, beer nuts and everything else people consume at parties. Students party a lot, therefore their junk food consumption can be considerably high. Moreover, chocolate can be successfully used as an anti-depressant. It is sweet and contains ephedrine... or was it dopamine? Does not matter, it is still good. Have a secret stash, just in case. Five-six bars should be adequate amount for emergencies.

Vegetables
Yeah, right.

Sugar
Welcome in all forms. It can be found in coffee or tea, in the coke/juice/fizzy drink you buy, in an ordinary lump you crunch while passing-by, in the cakes and cookies you have for your afternoon snack. In ketchup, mustard, sauces, jams, sausages. Sugar means energy. Energy good. Taken in the afternoon, it gives you a welcome boost which enables you to continue working until 21.00. If you have errands after this time, consider going back to the basics, i.e. coffee and beer.

Negotiating ice

Winter has come. Yesterday, a white blanket of snow covered the land, hiding paths, tracks, nasty puddles from the last rain and turning all bicycles into lookalikes. The city had enough residual heat to melt some of the snow. That did not matter, the frozen water crystals kept on dancing, plummeting and finally resting on the ground, until they consumed all the warmth and buried the streets beneath themselves.

The clouds dissipated. Night fell. Countless students cycled home (after some initial confusion which exactly snow-covered modern art masterpiece represents their bike), leaving a myriad of tracks in the soft water-snowy slurry. Morning came.

I had to go out to the lab to help a friend of mine with his experiment. First surprise: the cycle roads were not cleaned up. Apparently, winter managed to surprise the municipality once again, even with the early warning it received several weeks ago. Never mind that. My bike has new strong grip tires, I said to myself, a little snow should not be a problem. I would have been right, save for the fact that there was something else besides the little snow. Ice. All the beautiful criss-crossing bike tracks from last evening had frozen during the night, adding some excitement to the show. Usually, ice is not that big of a problem by itself. The actual problem was that both my tires had their own opinion on which of the thousand tracks they should follow. This turned the whole trip into a rope-dancing kind of experience, with all my muscles strained to keep my balance. Not a very pleasant thing to do. Even less when you consider the speed limits. Any velocity greater than that of an enraged garden snail would inevitably lead to my fall. And I do not like falling. Dropping down flat on your nose from 2 m height is definitely not my idea of pleasure.

Speaking of ideas, I had a really bright one. I adjusted my course and started cycling on the street instead. Boy, was that a mistake. Yes, the street was cleaned and it was significantly easier to propel myself forward. However, I had to share it with some actual drivers. Most of them still having their summer tires on. Not a nice view, considering how close I was to the action. This sort of thing is best watched on YouTube, not when you have to struggle to avoid participating in it. Luckily, I was spared any incidents. I wonder what will happen next, when I have to go downtown. Literally. Karolinabacken, here I come...

Under the rain... again

It is 1 o'clock in the morning, when I go out from the castle. For those of you that you do not know it, this is one of my several working places that sustain my existence in this Northern country. All decent folk have already gone to bed, alone or with company. Even the students, the people that make Uppsala what it is, are nowhere in sight. The streets are completely empty... as they have been countless nights before.

Only me, my bike and the rain are moving. I love this bicycle. It has been in my possession for more than three years now, carrying me through winds and snow, through blizzards and rain, over ice and mud. I no longer need to steer it with my hands. The subtle changes of pressure on the frame are enough to make it go where I want it to. If only everything else obeyed my whims as easily as my trustworthy bike...

I am tired. One more shift as a waiter has passed by. In the end of it, the last remaining employees that have not yet got home sit down on a table with the boss and trade stories. Everyday problems, past amusements and future plans were laid out. I listen. In my glass I have some 12-years old Bowmore single malt scotch whiskey. One of my favourites. The smoky taste teases my tongue, while the amber-coloured liquid lazily makes its way down my throat, washing the strain away. The boss is happy with our work and treats us to a beer. A local one, named Uppsala. Quite nice, I should say. A full-bodied lager with ale undertones. Recommendable.

I am cycling. The drinks and the company have pushed the busy evening into oblivion. No more shall I remember the awkwardly-behaving guests, the hot plates and the annoying pretentious old ladies. All what is left is the smiles of my coworkers, the lovely a-capella band and the delicious chocolate dessert offered by the chefs.

It is raining again. Celestial tears splash quietly on my cheeks as I glide unheard in the night. Their cold calmness is both numbing and invigorating. They take everything away, dissolve it and let it pour down from me as ink from a sheet of paper. I am blank again now, waiting to be filled. System of a Down booms in my ears, replenishing my supplies of rage and stubbornness, the two things that have always kept me focused on who I am and where I am going.

Finally, I am in front of my dormitory. One last look into the sky, feeling the raindrops caressing my face. An evening ritual follows. Time to go to sleep. I hope I dream.