We made it to Copley Hall yesterday at the occasion of a Rachmaninov performance by Yefim Bronfmann. (Click here for an excerpt ...)Jan, from C's lab was kind enough to get tickets for us, and off we went. It's my first time in Copley Hall, yet we've been talking about going all winter. You know how it is ... But there's a decent symphony orchestra here, and there's sometimes cheap seats to be had, so there's no excuse.
The program went well: Schnittke's (K)ein Midsommernacht's Traum, Rachmaninov's 3rd Piano Concerto and Tchaikovsky's 4th Symphony. Their Tchaikovsky wasn't particularily fiery, I thought, and in parts a little slow for my taste, but decent. The pianist was spectacular. The intermission, crowded.
The one thing that stood out as different about this concert, from the concerts I'm used to, was maybe the speech given at the beginning at the concert. The chairman of the symphony board stepped upon stage. I thought "Nice! Maybe he'll say something about the works they are about to perform, or the composers, or the soloist ...". Wrong! He talked about what a great year this had been for the San Diego Symphony as their ticket sales went up 7%. He said he was hoping the ticket sales would go up even more next year. And he invited us to donate money, preferably before the end of June. Which is all good. I mean, of course a symphony orchestra needs money to survive. I just found this 'business/money' speak something of a mood killer at the moment where I had actually been expecting the director of the orchestra to come on stage. But maybe that's just me. I'm sure the "money money" thing is something I will eventually grow used to here in America ...
Sunday, May 21, 2006
Monday, May 15, 2006
Weekends in Pacific Beach
I think we are finally starting to learn to enjoy living in this neighbourhood. For the price we pay (not that there are any cheap neighbourhoods in and around San Diego either) I think we might as well make more of it than just using it as a place to sleep between our trips to campus.
We have now added to our Saturday morning routine a little bike ride to the farmer's market. The market's really nothing special, to be honest. It's a few scattered stands at best and the selection consists mostly of avocados, citrus fruits, tomatoes and some flowers and plants. It's got nothing to do with the colours, the smells, the atmosphere and the abundance of an ordinary local Paris neighbourhood market. It's mostly expensive and the vegetables/fruits are occasionally a bit tired, but I guess we go there under the illusion that we are buying from the farmer, not a corporation, and that we might come upon something fresh. But for us this is also, and not least, a good motivation for actually getting out of bed before noon ...!
It probably takes a few times to figure out where the good stuff is to be found. We have had some really watery strawberries at the market already, and avocados that were so tasteless they weren't even fit for guacamole (or maybe in particular not fit for ...) But, we now have an egg-woman we like to go to, who recycles our eggboxes too, an avocado woman who gives you exactly the ripeness of fruit you ask for (and more than seldom gives you a big discount too because of whatever ...), and there's a guy that sells fresh orange and tangelos juice. And we got great basil and tomato plants there too. And, like I said, it's the bike ride. Besides, not everyone in America has a weekly farmer's market in the neighbourhood, so it's sort of a privilege ...
I try to remind myself every day that we now live only a few steps from fabulous Sail Bay in Mission Bay, and that if I want to smell the sea I only need to walk around the corner. Another way is to do a jog along the bay down to the beach. This is now part of our routine, as much as I abhor running in general. It probably takes about ten minutes to run along the bay until the isthmus where we can cut across to the ocean beach, and ten minutes is probably as long as I can run in one stretch. So, we run down to the sea, I catch my breath while C runs five minutes further down the boardwalk and back, then we run together to our house along the bay again. All in all a thirty minute workout. I do hate running, but I might come to enjoy this eventually!
We have now added to our Saturday morning routine a little bike ride to the farmer's market. The market's really nothing special, to be honest. It's a few scattered stands at best and the selection consists mostly of avocados, citrus fruits, tomatoes and some flowers and plants. It's got nothing to do with the colours, the smells, the atmosphere and the abundance of an ordinary local Paris neighbourhood market. It's mostly expensive and the vegetables/fruits are occasionally a bit tired, but I guess we go there under the illusion that we are buying from the farmer, not a corporation, and that we might come upon something fresh. But for us this is also, and not least, a good motivation for actually getting out of bed before noon ...!
It probably takes a few times to figure out where the good stuff is to be found. We have had some really watery strawberries at the market already, and avocados that were so tasteless they weren't even fit for guacamole (or maybe in particular not fit for ...) But, we now have an egg-woman we like to go to, who recycles our eggboxes too, an avocado woman who gives you exactly the ripeness of fruit you ask for (and more than seldom gives you a big discount too because of whatever ...), and there's a guy that sells fresh orange and tangelos juice. And we got great basil and tomato plants there too. And, like I said, it's the bike ride. Besides, not everyone in America has a weekly farmer's market in the neighbourhood, so it's sort of a privilege ...
I try to remind myself every day that we now live only a few steps from fabulous Sail Bay in Mission Bay, and that if I want to smell the sea I only need to walk around the corner. Another way is to do a jog along the bay down to the beach. This is now part of our routine, as much as I abhor running in general. It probably takes about ten minutes to run along the bay until the isthmus where we can cut across to the ocean beach, and ten minutes is probably as long as I can run in one stretch. So, we run down to the sea, I catch my breath while C runs five minutes further down the boardwalk and back, then we run together to our house along the bay again. All in all a thirty minute workout. I do hate running, but I might come to enjoy this eventually!
Sunday, May 14, 2006
One Year in America
It's been one whole year since I first arrived here. How do I like it? I don't know. Yes, and no. But, I made it. That's a start ... ! Although just barely. And I don't have time to even think about it now. Back to my books ...
Saturday, May 13, 2006
The Best Mexican Restaurant in San Diego
We finally added a new restaurant to our repertoire. We have been overly conservative for the last year, sticking to the same places mostly. I do love eating at the Fishery though!
So, we discovered a great Mexican restaurant, El Agave Teguileria, close to Old Town. They have great starter plates, a fabulous collection of moles, a variety of seafood dishes and the biggest selection of tequilas I have ever seen. Their margaritas are pretty expensive, but at least they are sharp, not sweet and watered down.
After a big plate of starters which included shrimp empanada, shrimp sopecito, two crispy beef taquitos, mushroom poblano quesadilla, pickled cactus paddles, guacamole, crispy potato taquito and cuitlacoche (corn fungus) tlacoyo, C had Calamar a la Talla, fresh squid served with a light chile pasilla sauce, and I had Camarón Cancún, sautéed large shrimp laid in a mango sauce with a splash of mustard, sprinkled with coconut and served with tropical fruit.
One more place to recommend. They have a nice overbuilt terrace and a nice atmosphere.
So, we discovered a great Mexican restaurant, El Agave Teguileria, close to Old Town. They have great starter plates, a fabulous collection of moles, a variety of seafood dishes and the biggest selection of tequilas I have ever seen. Their margaritas are pretty expensive, but at least they are sharp, not sweet and watered down.
After a big plate of starters which included shrimp empanada, shrimp sopecito, two crispy beef taquitos, mushroom poblano quesadilla, pickled cactus paddles, guacamole, crispy potato taquito and cuitlacoche (corn fungus) tlacoyo, C had Calamar a la Talla, fresh squid served with a light chile pasilla sauce, and I had Camarón Cancún, sautéed large shrimp laid in a mango sauce with a splash of mustard, sprinkled with coconut and served with tropical fruit.
One more place to recommend. They have a nice overbuilt terrace and a nice atmosphere.
Friday, May 12, 2006
Haunting Munich
Munich was one of those films I missed when it was out in the movie halls, but our DVD rental had it on display yesterday and I grabbed it. So, we watched it last night, and it was good, very good. But haunting. It´s kind of been working my mind all day today. The movie takes a surprisingly objective stand on the terrorist acts and subsequent assassinations it relates. It places you in the midst of the action but doesn't really pass judgement except in the sense that it allows you to watch as the seemingly "normal" people involved disintegrate. So, the movie is sort of humane but also sort of creepy and certainly does not leave you at rest. What is all this violence, anyway? Well, depending on where you are coming from, it may be everything. The beginning, and the end. Everything, and nothing else is conceivable. It's a necessity and yet it brings no resolution. It's a vicious cycle, a snake biting its tail.
Then, to another issue: What are people actually thinking, scheming invasions into countries in a whole other part of the world, whose people we do not know, do not understand and who, if only we weren't imposing ourselves on them all the time and interfering in their business, would have no interest in having anything to do with us ...? Can we spare the anger we will be provoking? Is this somehow going to make the world a better place? Or is this necessary to keep the vicious cycle alive? Is the "devil" pulling our strings?
"He who has done evil, expects evil."
-- African Proverb
Then, to another issue: What are people actually thinking, scheming invasions into countries in a whole other part of the world, whose people we do not know, do not understand and who, if only we weren't imposing ourselves on them all the time and interfering in their business, would have no interest in having anything to do with us ...? Can we spare the anger we will be provoking? Is this somehow going to make the world a better place? Or is this necessary to keep the vicious cycle alive? Is the "devil" pulling our strings?
"He who has done evil, expects evil."
-- African Proverb
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
Swimming With an Army of Me
One of my favorite pastimes is now the pool on campus. We generally go there a few times a week now, usually after work, sometimes in the middle of the day and every so often on the weekend too. The pool is quite good, in fact. It's not too cold for my standards and I'm getting used to 25 yard laps, as opposed to the 50 meter laps we used to do. It's rarely crowded and in that case it will at worst have 1-2 people per lane. And the dip in the hot tub afterwards really does it for me!
The rule is that we swim 800 meters, then hang out in the pot for five minutes. Kinda like we would do at home. (Ok, maybe we would spend a little longer at home, and listen in on conversations ...) Some things are somewhat unlike home though. The locker rooms, for one thing. Although showers are provided, I rarely spot anyone using them, so if they are they are doing it all the more discretely. In fact, aside from myself, I never saw anyone really naked in the locker rooms! It's a mystery to me. I mean, to dress or undress for the pool, at some time you should be forced to take your clothes off, right? Although, I have seen women come to the pool wearing their swimsuit under their clothes. However, you would hardly put your clothes on again over a wet swimsuit ...
Anyway, this is one of those cultural mysteries that baffle the intruder. I'm frankly intrigued. I am sure the showers are being used by somebody (other than me). They even put up soap dispensers recently, after I asked about them. So, I've come to the conclusion that this is a display of the American's contradictory feelings towards nudity. As comfortable are they are with naked/halfnaked women in the magazines, on the television, on the beach and in music videos, they abhor the sight of a naked body in a publid shower room, and they hardly want to expose their own nudity to a real person that's going for a swim like them and might possibly interact. So, on one hand I'm slightly amused by the hypocrisy, on the other hand I'm sometimes invaded by paranoia. As I shamelessly put on my bra without covering myself I sometimes suddenly get the notion I'm being watched by big brother and that tomorrow I'm gonna by sued for sexual harassment ...
The other thing that differs from the pool back home, well, that is the crowd. Obviously, a campus pool is mostly attended by young people in their prime. No seniors, no children, although the odd faculty professor can be spotted sometimes. And unlike the pool back home, there is constantly music on the loadspeekers. I doubt its function is to entertain the swimmers. I think it's rather to help the couple of lifeguards on duty battle their boredom. I find this music very anti-climactic or surreal lots of the time. It doesn't help that they mostly play awfully bad music, and they are in particular amazingly geared towards country. When they put on something familiar though, it can help you get through your laps: 550, 575, 600, 625 ...
Today as I was coming towards the end of my swim, they were playing Björk, and I thought: "Isn't this weird?" Would I have imagined 30 years ago when we were having a little christmas get-together in my choral group, that this funny dark eyed girl that ate so many cookies at the christmas party that she had to puke and couldn't sing carols anymore would be providing the background music to this scene: and in golden California, ten thousand miles from home, I shot through the shimmering water with "An Army of Me" in my ears ...
The rule is that we swim 800 meters, then hang out in the pot for five minutes. Kinda like we would do at home. (Ok, maybe we would spend a little longer at home, and listen in on conversations ...) Some things are somewhat unlike home though. The locker rooms, for one thing. Although showers are provided, I rarely spot anyone using them, so if they are they are doing it all the more discretely. In fact, aside from myself, I never saw anyone really naked in the locker rooms! It's a mystery to me. I mean, to dress or undress for the pool, at some time you should be forced to take your clothes off, right? Although, I have seen women come to the pool wearing their swimsuit under their clothes. However, you would hardly put your clothes on again over a wet swimsuit ...
Anyway, this is one of those cultural mysteries that baffle the intruder. I'm frankly intrigued. I am sure the showers are being used by somebody (other than me). They even put up soap dispensers recently, after I asked about them. So, I've come to the conclusion that this is a display of the American's contradictory feelings towards nudity. As comfortable are they are with naked/halfnaked women in the magazines, on the television, on the beach and in music videos, they abhor the sight of a naked body in a publid shower room, and they hardly want to expose their own nudity to a real person that's going for a swim like them and might possibly interact. So, on one hand I'm slightly amused by the hypocrisy, on the other hand I'm sometimes invaded by paranoia. As I shamelessly put on my bra without covering myself I sometimes suddenly get the notion I'm being watched by big brother and that tomorrow I'm gonna by sued for sexual harassment ...
The other thing that differs from the pool back home, well, that is the crowd. Obviously, a campus pool is mostly attended by young people in their prime. No seniors, no children, although the odd faculty professor can be spotted sometimes. And unlike the pool back home, there is constantly music on the loadspeekers. I doubt its function is to entertain the swimmers. I think it's rather to help the couple of lifeguards on duty battle their boredom. I find this music very anti-climactic or surreal lots of the time. It doesn't help that they mostly play awfully bad music, and they are in particular amazingly geared towards country. When they put on something familiar though, it can help you get through your laps: 550, 575, 600, 625 ...
Today as I was coming towards the end of my swim, they were playing Björk, and I thought: "Isn't this weird?" Would I have imagined 30 years ago when we were having a little christmas get-together in my choral group, that this funny dark eyed girl that ate so many cookies at the christmas party that she had to puke and couldn't sing carols anymore would be providing the background music to this scene: and in golden California, ten thousand miles from home, I shot through the shimmering water with "An Army of Me" in my ears ...
Monday, May 01, 2006
Back to climbing
This weekend C had the wheel on my 15$ cruiser bike fixed. That cost him $35, which is more than my bicycle lock and basket cost together. I feel more comfortable on it now that the front wheel doesn't swing to the sides. So, we took me and my bike to the farmer's market Saturday morning after breakfast and after I talked with my sister on the phone for an hour. Somehow we always manage to show up there at closing time. They close at noon. But we snapped a little basil plant and another variety of tomatoes (we already have one on our front porch with three flowers, and it's been growing pretty fast since we got it) before they cleared the tables. Also got a couple corn cobs, and strawberries. The strawberries this time turned out to be watery, much unlike the ones we got last time.
C went out sailing with a buddy from the lab, but I stayed inside. Wanted to work on my Matlab and my approximation algorithms homework and make some advances on my phylogeny project. Sunday however I was forced to take half a day off! And we drove up to Mission Gorge for climbing. Spent four hours and I finished two routes out of the three I tackled. One 5.6 face route, called Ramaghast, had a couple of tricky spots but many hand holds. Then I did a 5.7 called Gandalf on the same rock, but this one was a crack route and aside from two moves at the bottom straightforward. The last one we did was a 5.8, and I probably knew beforehand that I wasn't going to finish it. C did it and fixed anchors, I did the first few moves, sort of for shows, but then stopped at the crux and asked to be lowered. Maybe I could have done it, it was a smearing face route with some nice disks, not many proper hand holds, but it was quite high up and intimidating in that way. C tried a 5.10+ on the other side of the rock but couldn't make it. First time I really had to hold him with my weight as I belayed him when he fell on the rope. The rock face was partly overhanging and the anchors fixed in such a way that he would each time swing over the corner to the other side of the rock and hang there. The first time that happened I jumped up in the air too, then I placed myself where I would have better foot holds and more weight.
The sun was out and I would have gotten a bad sunburn had I not had a double layer of sun screen. It was almost too hot at times. As soon as one leaves the beach front here in San Diego one loses the ocean breeze of course.
It was a good climb session though. We were all sweaty, sticky, dirty, nasty and tired as we returned.
C went out sailing with a buddy from the lab, but I stayed inside. Wanted to work on my Matlab and my approximation algorithms homework and make some advances on my phylogeny project. Sunday however I was forced to take half a day off! And we drove up to Mission Gorge for climbing. Spent four hours and I finished two routes out of the three I tackled. One 5.6 face route, called Ramaghast, had a couple of tricky spots but many hand holds. Then I did a 5.7 called Gandalf on the same rock, but this one was a crack route and aside from two moves at the bottom straightforward. The last one we did was a 5.8, and I probably knew beforehand that I wasn't going to finish it. C did it and fixed anchors, I did the first few moves, sort of for shows, but then stopped at the crux and asked to be lowered. Maybe I could have done it, it was a smearing face route with some nice disks, not many proper hand holds, but it was quite high up and intimidating in that way. C tried a 5.10+ on the other side of the rock but couldn't make it. First time I really had to hold him with my weight as I belayed him when he fell on the rope. The rock face was partly overhanging and the anchors fixed in such a way that he would each time swing over the corner to the other side of the rock and hang there. The first time that happened I jumped up in the air too, then I placed myself where I would have better foot holds and more weight.
The sun was out and I would have gotten a bad sunburn had I not had a double layer of sun screen. It was almost too hot at times. As soon as one leaves the beach front here in San Diego one loses the ocean breeze of course.
It was a good climb session though. We were all sweaty, sticky, dirty, nasty and tired as we returned.
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