Venice awakes

November in Venice is a bliss. It is not clear of tourists, but at least the usual day-trippers from nearby camping places are somewhere else now. If in the mood, the sun will shine and warms you enough to sit outside a small trattoria to sip a cappu or Sprizz. This is what I did for a few days in early November – oh no, wait, the actual mission was: Photography.

Just like in November 2011, I joined a photo trip with Rainer Martini and 9 other hobby photographers – or "photo freaks" as I used to call them back then. By now, I have become one of them myself, I guess. Which is a good thing.

Being photo-freakish means that the typical Venice day starts with getting up at 5:15 am in order to catch the first morning light. Only few words are spoken when we then quietly rush along the dark narrow streets leading to Piazza San Marco. From time to time, some woken up pigeons hectically flutter out of their beds and fly like ghosts along the dark alleys. We arrive at Piazza San Marco. The tripods are unpacked and the cameras prepared for long time exposures. We wander between the Doge's Palace, the Campanile and the seashore with its gently moving gondolas. The Piazza is empty with just a few photographers and men with brooms. The first boats have not yet arrived. The sky then turns from black into blue, and from there, things happen quickly: The lights of lanterns and buildings are turned off, first the ones at Café Florian. The atmosphere changes and calls for photographic action... Higher Kelvin, shorter exposures, maybe try different combinations? The first sun rays dip the scene in new colors, be it a soft rose, an artificial lilac, or simply a lighter shade of blue. Each day a different color. Each morning holds  its little surprise.

7:30h, the sun is completely out by now, the magic is over. For about 90 minutes, we have been taking pictures, about 100 clicks. Time seems to have flown by. This is real flow, Mr. Csíkszentmihályi. We fold our tripods away and start talking again. The first tourists arrive with their small cameras. Surely, they believe they are "really early" today. It is time for breakfast, and we proceed to "our" little bar, bite into fresh brioches and have a perfect cup of cappuccino. I am  tempted to say that by then, at around 8 am, the best part of the day is over – but that would not be fair. Have a look at the pictures, and you will see that the whole trip was fantastic. Venice in November is a bliss. Il tutto giorno.

Beijing: "Those days must be a treasure in my life"

One evening in June, actually in an Irish pub in Bavaria, I was offered a short-time teaching job in Beijing, China! Starting only 6 weeks later, I could teach at University of International Business and Economics (UIBE) for their 2013 summer school. At Wikipedia, that university is said to represent no less than the "Oriental Harvard" and "the Switzerland of Chinese universities". So, no question: I had to go! In rapid speed, with a 2-week-trip to the Northcape in between, I prepared a 18-hour-lecture on the "Sociology of Family in Europe", hopped on that airplane, and arrived in Beijing, humid and hot with 37 degrees. 

At the airport, I was picked up by my teaching assistant and his cousin, both holding one sign each: One read "Dr. Christine", and the other "Geserick". That made me smile, and it would be "sweet" like so many experiences which I had with that assistant and the other 40 students. They were all so interested, attentive, disciplined and waived me goodbye when leaving the class room. However, teaching was both physically and mentally challenging, as I had to give 6 hours of lectures for 3 consecutive days. It was hot, I was on West-East-jetlag, and participation in class was rather non-existent. I basically talked for 6 hours each day. 

It is one thing to hear that China has been opening up to "the West". The other thing is to experience that curiosity first hand, while being there. It is in the attentive eyes of the students when I start my sentence with the words: "In Europe today …." And it is in the encounters with Chinese tourists when they carefully tip on my shoulder and say a friendly "hello". They want to have a little chat with me, the Western girl. The chat usually starts with a "where are you from?", then leads into the question "can I take picture with you?". We take that picture, and for a goodbye, they shake my hand, followed by the typical Asian goodbye-waive. They smile. And so do I. 

Actually, their picture-taking of me encouraged me to ask the Chinese just the same. At first, I took "pictures-in-return", meaning I portrayed just everybody who had photographed me. But this project got out of hand, because it was so many, and the scenes somewhat too ordinary. So I ventured to ask others, those whom I really wanted a picture of. Here, due to lack of Chinese skills, "asking" meant that I presented the Nikon, gestured that I would like to take a photo, tried to smile an irresistible smile, and put a question mark at the end. I did not ask many people, but whenever I did, it worked. Note so self: I should have asked more people! (All pictures here.)

 Some Beijing scenes felt especially "surreal", while at the same time I indulged in that feeling of being so foreign there. For instance, I remember a rainy lunch break when I walked on campus, under a pink plastic umbrella which I had been given to protect me from acid rain. Almost fainting from jetlag, I was munching on some pretzels, only realizing that their taste was actually seaweed. In lack of hot espresso, this meal was accompanied by sweet iced latte in a can. Strange coffee culture! 

Other things that surprised me were:

• How rough people can become be when in anger. Angry couples talk to each other in obvious disgust, accompanied by sounds that I have never heard before.
• And then again: How tender people are with each other. Young lovers would hold each other close when on the metro. Parents would give their little ones very tender care in public places. Everybody was physically very close.
• That it seems OK bring your own beverages to eating places, e.g. beer from a kiosk kind of store or even sit inside Starbucks to eat food from KFC, not ordering anything from Starbucks!
• How steep the Great Wall is! 
• That a little kiosk suddenly sells beer from the Domhof brewery from Speyer (near my hometown)! 
• That I found a "vibrating condom" on my hotel's night table. For sale. 
• That Mao is still referred to as "the chairman". 
• That the rain there is really acid rain. It caused me a sore throat and red eyes. 
• How men lift up their shirt in hot weather to have their belly breathe.
• How bad the smog is! It made the air blue in the evenings. And the local Seven Eleven sold breathing masks, three different kinds.

Yes, the trip was a challenge, but it was so worth it! I felt so even more, when I received the most lovely thank you-notes from my students. These are my favorite lines:

"I have spent a short but unforgettable summer school with you, which is full of learning pointy about family and social security. You've really gave us a window to see Europe family and social security, which inspired more curiosity from my heart."
 
"... You impressed me very much and I think I will never forget you as my first foreigner teacher!"
 
"Again, thanks for everything you did during the summer school. I will always remember the happy time we spent together."
 
"I felt great passion and gratitude and I really appreciate your teaching attitude. ^_^" 

"Those 3 days must be a treasure in my life."

… yes, same with me!

Midnight sun in Lapland

A few weeks have passed since the Norway trip end of June 2013. As we spontaneously extended our tour, the "Northern Norway" trip really turned out to be a real "Lapland trip", including stops in Sweden (Kiruna) and Finland (Enontekiö). In 13 days, we drove about 4.000 kilometers. It was an impressive journey with many hours spent under the midnight sun, meeting a lot of reindeer, eating salmon, drinking arctic beer, and taking lots of pictures.

The trip was planned as a "wilderness experience", and that turned out very well! We had brought a tent, sleeping bags of the kind "Arctic Extreme" and made good use of the "Allemannsrett" to camp in the Arctic wilderness. We always found a cozy place with some flat ground and nearby water which we would use to bathe in the next morning, or – if too cold – at least use the water to boil some Nescafé. Only a few times did we chose to stay in official campsites or rented a cheap room, e.g. when it rained…

These are (roughly) the places where we stayed overnight:

Tromsø - Sifjord (island: Senja) - Harstad (island: Hinnøya) - Kongsvik (also Hinnøya) – Nyksund - Kiruna (Sweden) - Leppäjärvi (Finland) – Hammerfest - Skarsvåg (close to Northcape) – Litleng – Altafjord – Svensby – Tromsø.

It was the first time that I experienced the 24 hours of daylight. For our wildcamp-trip, it came in handy. There was no "we must build up the tent before darkness". No need of camping lights or alike. Also, sleeping in the deepest forest didn't cause angst because the surroundings were never dark but rather dipped in golden sunlight. A hungry bear would have been spotted just in time. And I will never forget how, when I had to step out the tent at 2.30 am, the birds were singing. Weird! Yet, there was a certain silence at night. Until now, I do not know why I felt that silence. With bright light and active animals, it should feel like daytime, no?!

Speaking of active animals: the mosquitos were pretty terrible. Especially inland, when we escaped the bad weather of the coast, we traded in rain for itchy bites. The deet ("Nobite") did help, but it seemed impossible to cover every inch of the body. I even put that stuff in my face. But forgetting some part of the forehead meant: lunch time for a whole mosquito family…

So, when we were tired of the mosquitos, we decided to drive back to the coast and venture into the "real" North, direction of North Cape. We had not really planned to go up there. You read about the North Cape as a "tourist rip-off", you are warned about the bad weather that most likely will be raging up there, after you have paid the 36 EUR entrance fee – and why would you go up there anyway, when the "real" geographic North Cape would be elsewhere anyway? But we were really glad we went: The weather was gorgeous, the visitor center with free wifi and nice panoramic view is worth the entrance fee, and the atmosphere was very special:

You sense that the North Cape must be the place of fulfilling dreams, e.g. "once in my life, I want to bicycle all the way up to the North Cape". And many do! Along that long gray road, we passed by many, really many, cyclists, their multifunctional shirts blowing against the arctic winds – and we felt a bit bad when overtaking. Their faces showed determination, but also some pain. The female cyclists I met again the washing room of the North Cape Café: They rinsed their face and looked exhausted – but very happy.

The trip has been great, and I am very happy to finally have come here. Here are some pictures to be look at.

I morgen

Tomorrow (i morgen) it is off to Norway. For the next 2 weeks, I will travel around in Northern Norway – right in time to experience Midsummer and those nights that don't get dark. The trip will be simple, yet adventurous: We go with a rental car, a tent, most effective bug repellant (deet), and the new Nikon.

Packing my bags, I get a bit sentimental. Not only that I expect an exciting trip, but Norway is special to me. In 1994, I spent 6 months in Kristiansand, on Norways's southern coast. I lived in a small apartment in a red wooden house on a hill. I was there to work as an au pair, took care of 3 cute Norwegian kids, and I guess this time has shaped me in many ways: I have learned to speak "real" English (thanks to the Oprah Winfrey Show broadcasted on NRK and my friends Jill, Cecilie and Reed!), and I realized how inspiring it is to live in a foreign place. Oh, and I should not forget that my au pair experience inspired me to write that PhD thesis…

So, I am looking forward to soon entering the country of geitost, Tine melk and Freia chocolate. Given the forecasted temperatures (10 degrees in Tromsö!), they could also start selling julebrus – which I like a lot. But I'd gladly trade in the Christmas lemonade for a few warm days. (For those of you who have not tried Julebrus: it tastes a bit like a mixture of coke and herbal lemonade, e.g. Almdudler.)

Naturally, this trip is not just for pure wildcamp-leisure, but the new Nikon will go on "her" first (real) trip. Last week, I had my first job duty in Bamberg (in Germany) to document the 4th European Congress of Family Science (--> see photos). But now, it is time for some outdoor fun. Oh, we are all excited. Norge, vi sees!

Rite de Passage: One PhD later…

When I started feeding this blog, in 2009, I was spending 4 weeks in a Victorian house in San Francisco writing on my dissertation. I actually did this for the proud usage of the exact line: "I spent a month of academic writing in a Victorian house". It sounded so good. The whole thing was crazy expensive (flight, unpaid job leave, housing!) but gave me the satisfaction to have fulfilled my fantasy which had entered my mind many years back when I was sitting at my desktop in Münster, rain outside: "How good that would be now! Sitting in sunny California, in a Victorian house…". Such adventures are much better for the soul than checking off these imperative "1.000 places to see before you die". Make your own list! Don't even customize, create!

4 years later, the writing is done, the title is earned, the book is published and will be presented next week. So, that life chapter is closed. And now?

This is what, towards the end of my thesis writing, friends would ask me: And what will you do after? It was hard for me to picture. I would slowly shake my head and say: "I don't know!" I have  a rather secure research job in academia, which I love. Would I thrive for more? Maybe become a professor? Spend some post-doc time in the U.S. or Australia? Or would I just stay? As of now, gaining this new title is simply that: a new title. A "Dr. phil." that now accessorizes my name, and flatters my ears as the Austrians just *love* to use it. Especially at doctor's(!) appointments when they address me(!) with: "Frau Doktor", would you please proceed to room 2. All for that moment.

But what I do notice though: I enjoy "neutralizing" my heavily academic past by plunging into non-academic hobbies. Like reading fiction or playing the piano. And: I spend a lot of time with my camera. "The Nikon" has entered my life in 2009. Together, we have travelled quite a bit, and I have learned a lot during some great photo workshop trips with Rainer Martini.

I believe that the revival of this blog is happening because I anticipate to share some of my future trips and travels, photo projects, or simply some Vienna daily life trivia. So, here we go: No (Inner) Sunset, but Dawn – in full color!