City Birds

I could be worse places than sat in a rooftop windowsill overlooking the mountaintops of Zurich. I'm enjoying the lazy evening breeze in what turns out to be the first Swiss heatwave of the year. Legs dangling off the rooftiles, laptop on my knees as I write this blog. Wireless truly is a beaut!

It's my last evening here, so what better way to have spent it than on an evening meal at my favorite Mexican. When you're dining out on your own, you have 3 options:
(a) you take a book and read it as you eat
(b) you shove your meal in as quickly as possible&then get the hell out
(c) you lean back and observe

Due to the lack of airco, all tables had been carried outside, so this evening I went with the rather more amusing option c. And what I observed is this: City birds are truly something else. I'm not talking women. I'm talking the feathered type.



No sooner had I been served my plate of food, or 3 chaffinches landed right next to it. They seemed to be holding a "conférence" as the French would say. Merrily chitter-chattering away, not seeming to take notice of me nor my plate. After a few minutes of enthousiastic debate, all 3 turned towards me and started squawking at me quite loudly. This of course amused me greatly, so I put down my cutlery and watched them going at it for a while, wondering whether they were in fact demanding my food.

Then, out of nowhere, a fourth chaffinch dive-bombed my plate and flew off with my ONLY tortilla chip. By the time I'd recovered from the surprise the other 3 had flown off after it.

Now, I could be antropomorphising here (and I am sure my zoologist will tell me off if I do), but I am certain that was all cleverly planned. It is a common misconception that "to do what's best for one's self" is the best survival strategy in evolutionary terms. I think these city birds are yet another proof that the true survival strategy is indeed "to do what's best for one's self AND the group". Well impressed guys. Hope it tasted as good as I imagined it would when I ordered it!

Picture Perfect

-my grandparents on Mum's side-

They have always been there I suppose, but I don’t remember ever taking much notice. Running around my nan’s house as a child, I was only ever remotely aware of the strange faces in the picture frames that graced her antique furniture. They were always simply that: decoration. Pretty pictures that I had no personal link with. Stories told in connection to the faces always vaguely lingered in the back of my mind, but eventually passed away when my nan did. The frames were stored in boxes to gather dust for a decade to come.

Until recently the frames resurfaced, along with letters and documents that have become so yellow and brittle they barely remain together. Years after they’ve past away, the reconstruction of my grandparents begins. Through the pages they grow, take shape and become more real to me than perhaps they ever were. The pictures no longer tell sugar-sweet stories of youths once lived, but tales of struggle as well as promise. Rough around the edges.

In this picture they are not much older than I am now. Looking at their pristine faces, I can trace the resemblance in my aunts and uncles, my 28 cousins and their own offspring, far too many to keep count. I can see traces of myself. Some watered down through generations, others unchanged. It is strange to think that maybe one day, my own granddaughter will open a box with my personal belongings, wondering who I was and what we still have in common. Reconstructing a version of me that she too can make peace with.

...where everybody knows your name...

I've had a very "Cheers" moment these past three days. I passed by Belgium on my way to Zurich to spend some time with my mum and to attend my mate Phil's PhD viva. It's always so nice to meet up with everyone. No matter how long I've been away for or how little we've been in touch, conversations always easily pick up right where they left off. Several of my friends pointed out to me that it's my fifth year abroad now. Time flies!

The past three days confirmed to me that I've got fantastic friends. I'm picky, stubbornly critical and an annoying little bugger to deal with, but man, have I got great friends! And to top it all off, I get to have both the friendships as well as the fun of life abroad. I get the best of both worlds, it's fab!

Oh I'm not high... *giggles*

Just... grateful for the "cheers" moments. ;-)

Morning Routines

You know that delightful feeling of gradually waking up with a beam of sunlight on your head? The warm body that spoons you while you gently drift in and out of the remnants of last night's dream? The gentle stretching of your limbs? That invigorating morning yawn before you hit the alarm button and turn over for another delicious snooze?

I miss those days.

These days my wake-up routine entails something of a furry, and rather more abrupt, nature. Through the night, our little toxoplast gradually stalks his way up our duvet. So when that delightful beam of sunlight first stirs me in the morning, I open my eyes to find... two big green eyes staring back at me. It is NOT the gentlest way to start your day.

Moreover, when he gets hungry, he consistently walks across my chest and over my head to annoy me into getting up. What puzzles me is that I have NEVER given into this, and it is always FI who feeds him his breakfast. So why does he hassle me?

I'm starting to believe it's a plot. Against me. And they are both in it. For when Fi finally gets up to feed both herself and Leo, I gratefully take over the whole bed and try to grab the 5 minute pester-free snooze time I feel I deserve. But a mere 2 minutes later, Leo is back on the bed, licking his lips loudly and approaching me with a godawful fish breath. It takes me a whole minute to chase him off the bed with the water pistol.

- Wet Leo -

Hand on the weapon for safety, I finally turn over for a second attempt at snoozing. I've just closed my eyes again when finally Fi comes out of the kitchen and commands: "cum un!". My cue to go join her.

It's been 4 months now since I've last had a decent snooze.

H.E.L.P. M.E.

Election Hangover

It was frustrating not to be allowed to vote in yesterday's elections. I missed out on elegibility by a year. It was even more frustrating to witness so many people throwing away their right to vote.

I agree that the electoral system leaves much to be desired. Britain's "first-past-the-post" electoral system means that to become an MP, a candidate doesn't need to win a majority of votes. He or she simply has to win more votes than any rival in their constituency.

Some of my friends refused to cast a vote for this very reason. And most of them will continue to abstain until a proportional representation system is instated.

I can't help but think that this is entirely counterproductive. Realistically speaking, no party is ever going to change the system by which it was elected. The wait for a proportional system will likely be a long one.



The question always remains: "what is the alternative?". I don't believe radical reform is possible in this day and age, lest it be induced by abrupt economic crisis, foreign invasion or unforeseen natural disasters. People nowadays tend to be too apathic, too fickle or too idealistic for any organised insurgence to succeed.

Truth be told, I have no workable alternative in mind. Other than to employ the system that is in place and use it to obtain the best option possible. Tactical voting is a good place to start. Vote swapping an even better one. It might not have caused a handover of power. But a 47 seat loss... is not a bad beginning.

Middlesex

Middlesex, by Jeffrey Eugenides. Arguably the best book I've read this year. If you're hardpressed to find a new book to read, I'd more than recommend it...

The little rock that refused to jump out of the way...

The Fluff's been itching to show me around her pine martin study-site in the Black Isle. So, last Thursday, we booked ourselves into a little B&B in Dornoch and set out for Morangie Forest.



The site itself is a good 60 square kilometers big and it's absolutely stunning. It's got the feel of a typical North American pine forest and smells like one of those "christmasspray"-cans Fi's dad bestows on us each year. Very surreal to find this in Scotland. Although I suppose it's all to do with plate tectonics and how the little bittie called Scotland ended up moving astray from its American side. I believe "wanderlust" is the right term ;-)

Anyway...

That Friday afternoon, Fi decided to drive her lil Fiat Punto around the forest in the hunt for some dense forest canopy, thereby endowing it with 4x4 allures it doesn't have. A good 20 minutes into the drive it came head to head with a rock which, quite astonishingly, refused to jump out of the way. (The nerve! ;-))

Result... The fiat's engine fell out. Literally.



The good news is that this all happened on the Friday evening before the bankholiday weekend, so garages were just DYING to come help us out *painful grin*. And thank god Dornoch is just THAT cosmopolitan a village to hold a regular direct trainservice straight down to Stirling *sobs in despair*.

Our luck turned, however, when Raymond the forest ranger lend us a hand to shift the Fiat off the road and to safety. It seems like fate that about a hundred yards from the car, a harvester had broken down and was in the process of being repaired by... a lovely bloke from Carlisle! *ka-ching* We got ourselves a lift down to Stirling in a greasy white van! But not before we got to see the newly repaired harvester in action. Now these things are amazing... the mechanical arm grabs a tree, chainsaws it down, pulls it horizontal, strips it of its branches and hacks it in three smaller bits. And all this in under 30seconds!!!



Anyway... the normal workweek resumes on Tuesday, and we'll find out then if the car is at all salvagable. In the meantime, it's back to the 4x4 bike ;-)