War, Reconstruction, and Ice Cream

Peach ice cream - the best!

I'm totally going to ping-pong around in my locations as I blog about last summer -- no need to go in chronological order, as far as I'm concerned.

I ended last time with ice cream, and I'm going to pick up the ice cream theme again, with the place I had the best ice cream. I ate a lot of pretty great ice cream, but the absolute most incredible was the fresh peach ice cream that I ate in the town of Mostar, in Bosnia and Herzegovina. After I tried it I stopped trying other flavors and vendors, and just came back every day for more. Ronan was a convert, too.

Mostar was a late add to my travel list; I wasn't sure if it was going to work out, because it's a bit off the beaten path. I'd committed to travel to Croatia with a friend, but she could only stay about a week, and I had an extra week to figure out before I wanted to head back to Spain, so I doodled around online looking at accommodations, and trying to figure out whether I could afford to go to Dubrovnik. Dubrovnik is definitely a popular summer tourist destination, and prices reflect it (but more on that later.) So I'd had Mostar on my list of places I'd eventually like to visit, and the more I looked at the map, the more I realized it wasn't really all that far from Split. So I doodled around looking at some more accommodations, and I found a homestay that looked reasonable. I looked at the price, and it was $50-something. My first thought: $50-something per night? (I'd been looking at places in Dubrovnik, so that looked cheap.) No, $50-something total. For 5 nights. I blinked. How was it possible? Well, they weren't charging me for Ronan, so that was part of it. But seriously? I looked at the reviews - was this a dump? No, the reviews were all good, and there were enough reviews that it probably was legit. So I gambled, and made the reservation.

As it turned out, Guesthouse A&O was a fantastic place to stay. The host kindly came and picked us up at the bus station, even though our bus was over an hour late, and it was probably after 10pm by the time we arrived. She was kind and helpful, she invited Ronan to play with her young children, and she dropped us back off at the bus station when we were heading out at the end of the week. Her house was clean and well-appointed -- our room had air conditioning (which was absolutely essential), a private bathroom with a washing machine, and access to a shared kitchenette and a balcony to enjoy the view (and dry our clothes.)

Mostar had been on my list for a while because I'd seen an article about its old bridge (that's where the name comes from: "stari most" is "old bridge" in Bosnian.) The bridge is a gorgeous arc over a blue-green river, and the article that I'd read talked about people jumping off the bridge -- for fun -- and that there's competitions each year where people jump off the bridge. The bridge itself was built in the 16th century, during the Ottoman empire. It was completed in 1566 or 1567. It's a gorgeous arc over the river Neretva, and connects the two halves of the town.

One side of the town is predominantly Christian, and the other side is predominantly Muslim. We were staying on the Muslim side of town, on roads sometimes not found on Google Maps. Or if they were, their connections to each other were sometimes dubious. Mostar is a hilly city. The old part of town is down in a slightly flat area built up on either side of the river. The Muslim side of town very quickly climbs up a hill; there's another hill on the Christian side, but a little further off, and the flat part of the land (of course) follows the course of the Neretva river.

It was the first city I'd been to where I heard the call to prayer - they broadcast it from speakers at the top of the towers at the mosques. I took the opportunity to visit a mosque while we were there -- it was the first time I'd ever been in one. We climbed to the top of the tower and got a great view of the whole area.

You may or may not be aware of it, but there was a pretty awful war all over Bosnia and Herzegovina during the early 1990's. I wasn't really aware of it when it happened -- I was in high school and then starting college, and didn't pay a lot of attention to the news. It was also a part of the world I'd never thought about, so the abstraction of war was made more abstract by my total lack of connection to the area.

Among the many fatalities from that war was the Mostar bridge. Human lives are absolutely precious to me, and many of them were lost, too; but it made me incredibly sad to think of this beautiful span standing for 427 years, only to be destroyed by tank shells in 1993. But humans are pretty neat, as it happens. A bunch of UN groups and nearby nations contributed funds and engineers to rebuild the bridge using local materials, and using the traditional techniques that would have been used in the 16th century. There's a great museum about the bridge and its reconstruction, and if you get a chance to visit Mostar, you should go.

We were up the hill about a kilometer from the old town, more or less straight up. OK, not really, but it always seemed like it on the way home, especially because it was 90+ F degrees out every day. It was hot in Mostar. Interestingly enough, the Neretva river was extremely cold. Sure, you say, it was cold. No, I mean it was cold. OK, I get it. No really. I'm from the Pacific Northwest, and we have the Pacific ocean nearby, and Puget Sound stays around 45 F year round and I sometimes stick my feet in both, and I'm telling you that the Neretva river was cold. When I read that online before we got there, I thought 'Yeah, cold for you, probably.' Nope. It's the kind of cold that makes your feet get numb after you've been standing in it for a little while. It's not the kind of cold that you get used to and decide, 'Oh, it's really not that bad' after a little while. Despite this, lots of people still jump into the river. Some even jump from the middle of the Mostar bridge. See, I'm not kidding:

I'm not going to be able to tell you everything about Mostar in this single post, so don't worry that you're missing something -- I'll tell you more specific stories later. This time, I'm just giving you an overview, so here's the overview "feel" that I want to convey. Mostar is this gorgeous mix of old and new, death and rebirth, Christian and Muslim, western and eastern, devastated by war, and yet friendly and energetic, and it has this poignancy that's hard to avoid. Most tourists only visit the old bridge, but there's a lot more to experience - as there is everywhere. We stayed five days, and I could happily have stayed longer.

My Crazy Summer

In this rainy, uncertain spring, I'm feeling more and more grateful for the crazy adventurous summer I had last year. It wasn't like I didn't feel grateful for it last summer -- I recognized even then how incredible it was, and was amazed that I was living it. But now I think it's even more important for me to cherish the adventure, reflect on it, and share it with my friends. 

For those who didn't tune in with me last summer, I spent two months traveling around Europe with my younger son, Ronan, and a couple of friends. Here's the overview: we started in Spain, in mid-June. One of my dance friends joined us for the first part of the adventure, since she'd never been to Europe before. After a few days in Madrid, we took the train to Oviedo, in Asturias, to check it out for a summer class that I still want to teach. I was hoping for this summer, but...maybe summer 2021 instead. While we were in the north, we took a short trip to Portugal, then returned to Oviedo. After a few more days, we flew to Vienna, Austria, but then we bussed directly to Bratislava, Slovakia. After a few days in Bratislava, we took the train to Budapest, Hungary, to visit some friends, and then continued by train to Szeged, Hungary, to see even more friends. We returned to Budapest briefly, then flew to Bologna, Italy, and took the train to Prato for a chemistry education conference. After that, we flew to Zagreb, Croatia, and met a friend there. After a few days, we took the train from Zagreb to Split. Our friend had to leave after a bit, but Ronan and I took a bus to Mostar, in Bosnia and Herzegovina. From there we continued by bus to Dubrovnik, Croatia. At that point we flew back to northern Spain for another week, then back to Madrid to fly home to Seattle.

If that sounds exciting, it was! It was also exhausting - we visiting seven countries, and traveled through 10 including airport transfers. I admit that I was pretty done with airplanes by the time we got back! I really wish that the US had a good train system, though. I love trains. Anyway, I'm going to spend some time reflecting on my experiences as a way to honor how special they were. Looking at pictures of sunny beaches also helps me remember that the sun shines, and it gets hot out -- and will again pretty soon. I'm probably going to reflect on our adventures in random order, depending on what inspiration strikes. So let's get started!

Ronan at the MUJA sign

Probably one of the single most incredible experiences of the whole trip was when Ronan and I were in northern Spain, and we rented a car and went to MUJA -- the Jurassic Museum of Asturias. Or maybe Museum of Jurassic Asturias? It's both. It chronicles the discovery of dinosaur fossils found in Asturias -- the local area. Incredibly, there are a ton of dinosaur fossils in that area. The museum, while small, is nicely laid out, and quite fun. It has many displays with English as an option, but for others it's useful to have a little Spanish available to you. One of the displays showed "dinosaur beaches" - local beaches along the Asturian coast where it's possible to see dinosaur fossil footprints.  At low tide. If you're lucky. We had a car, so I looked at the maps, and realized that one of the dinosaur beaches was just down the hill from us. I had no idea what the tide level was just then, but figured it was worth a shot. 

I had confidently taken back roads on our drive to MUJA (they're more scenic, after all), so I managed to get myself slightly lost before we got to the museum. Consequently, it was already mid-afternoon when we got to the museum, and probably 5-ish by the time we arrived at the beach. 

View from the creek bridge at Playa la Griega, Asturias, Spain

It was clearly a popular beach - I had to circle around to find a parking spot, and eventually we parked on the grass where I hoped was a legal spot. From the car park we crossed a bridge over a creek flowing down to the ocean. The tide was already pretty far out, and (I figured out later) still going out. Perfect timing! It was a gorgeous afternoon, and the beach promised to be pretty special even if we didn't find dinosaur fossils. But at the end of the bridge, we found a helpful sign that looked encouraging.

Follow this path to dinosaur footprints!

The view back toward Playa la Griega, from the footpath.

We followed the indicated path, which skirted the east side of the sandy beach, and wound up a low hillside overlooking a mixed rocky/sandy beach. To the right (south) was a eucalyptus forest, with fern underbrush. 

Eucalyptus forest bordering the rocky/sandy beach.

It was mild and pretty much perfect weather out (as it was for most of the time we were in Asturias. Shhh -- don't tell anyone. If we don't tell anyone maybe it won't get too touristy and crowded.) We passed maybe one other couple on our way. We followed the path up and down for a little ways, and then came to an overlook. The overlook had an informational sign that pointed out various dinosaur footprint fossils that could be seen on the exposed rock just below, and there was a stair going down to the rock. You could just walk on the rock. With the dinosaur footprint fossils. I felt like I was doing something wrong - shouldn't there be guard rails? Shouldn't there be caution tape? Shouldn't there be something keeping people from damaging the artifacts? Maybe. Probably? But at the same time I didn't hold back. And from a certain perspective, what're you going to do? This is an open stretch of coastline, and the rocks are affected by the weather every day, every season. I went ahead and walked down onto the fossilized mud flat that held dinosaur footprints, and let myself bask in the incredible feeling of connecting with the distant past. 

Looking down from the overlook onto dinosaur footprints.

Visible fossils were from both sauropod (the giant, leaf-eating dinosaurs like diplodocus) and therapods (carnivorous dinosaurs.) Do you see the oval + crescent moon shape? Those are back foot (oval) + front foot (crescent moon) of a saurpod. I had no idea that their front foots were such an interesting shape! I had always imagined them rather like elephant feet, both front and back. These fossil footprints show a couple of different sizes of sauropod. Some prints were about the size of a basketball; others somewhat larger. Probably someone has identified what kind of sauropod left these footprints. 

Sauropod front and back footprint

Therapod footprints look pretty much like bird footprints. No surprise, right? I still find it incredible how recognizable that shape is. It looks like my chicken just left that footprint there - except that the footprint was quite a bit bigger -- probably bigger than my hand. Check it out -- just below Ronan's left hand in the photo. You can see its middle toe and the right toe, both with toenails. Pretty cool, right? So yeah, a lot bigger than a chicken -- probably something more ostrich-sized? Maybe a velociraptor? You can use your imagination. 

Therapod footprint next to the cute kid

I am amazed that what was probably a muddy riverbank millions of years ago could have something happen to preserve footprints. Maybe it was the last rainy day before a dry period, so the footprints had time to harden. And then maybe there was torrential rain that cause a landslide, burying the footprints with some other kind of dirt that didn't really mix with the dried mud underneath. And then...lots and lots and lots of time. Wow.

The art of wave-jumping was explored extensively.

We were having so much fun with dinosaurs, and the tide was perfect for tide pools, so we splashed around for a while. And then it was imperative that I teach Ronan wave-jumping. So pretty soon it worked out that we had spent the rest of the evening on the beach. After a while most of the other the beachgoers left, probably to go home and have dinner. We kept jumping waves, and enjoying the balmy water. A light overcast covered the sky, making the light misty and diffuse. We nibbled the snacks that I'd brought, and slowly meandered across the beach, jumping and kicking waves. Days are very long in Asturias in June. Closing in on 9pm I finally insisted that we make some progress toward our car (we were still an hour's drive from home.) We washed off our feet, and reluctantly put our shoes on. We bought chips and ice cream bars in the cafe next to the beach, and called that dinner. It was a pretty fabulous day. 

A healthy and nutritious dinner was had by all.

The best gift

My Fulbright project was titled "Mentoring the next generation of Hungarian scientists", but I've talked very little so far about what I did with those scientists. The reason for that is largely just because it's not photographable, and I feel the obligation to put a lot of photos in my blogs. 

But this time I'll try to push that feeling aside, because -- even though visiting new cities and having exciting adventures was great -- the real reason why the Fulbright was an amazing experience was because I felt like I made a difference in my students' lives.

I had two classes at the University of Szeged (SZTE): a class of Ph.D. students that met two times a week for 90 minutes each time, and a class of M.S. students that met once a week for 90 minutes. For this time I'm just going to talk about the Ph.D. class, since the two classes had pretty different foci.

First of all, I didn't just have Hungarian scientists in my class. Due to the enthusiastic recruiting done by SZTE, I also had students from Romania and Serbia (two countries that neighbor Hungary, and in fact that have borders about a 30 minute drive from Szeged), but also from Russia, Egypt, India, Indonesia, and Nigeria.

Early in the semester, my students just came to class, but not to my office hours. I was a little lonely, honestly. I'm a social person, and I needed more social interactions. Add to my specific challenge that we were not living in Budapest, where most of the rest of the Hungarian Fulbrighters were living. I eventually solved that problem by throwing some parties and inviting friends I'd met at the SZTE Summer University (Hungarian language intensive.) But I think loneliness is a pretty common experience for Fulbrighters who aren't students: we don't have an automatic social group, the way that students do. I talked with a couple of other non-student Hungarian Fulbrighters about this, and they concurred that it's common not to be included, and reported feeling lonely. 

At any rate, we have an uphill battle to create our own. In the US, I have frequent interactions with my co-workers as well as my students, but it's a little different when you're a visiting professor. Maybe it's partially that we're there for such a short period of time that some people don't want to "waste" their energy getting to know someone new when we're just going to leave again. If so, I don't take this personally. I never mind getting to know some one new, but it's true that it is work, and it's sad to say goodbye to new friends -- I get it. I feel sad right now because I'm away from the new friends I just made. So I definitely get it. But whatever any individual's specific reason, it can be lonely to be a visiting faculty member.

But back to my students. For the Ph.D. class, we were focusing on the types of scientific communication that scientists need to master: writing journal articles, creating posters, oral presentations, and communicating with the public. Early in the semester I didn't have a lot of assignments due, but by October that changed. The first drafts of their journal articles were due, and that meant revisions. Although we did some peer editing, things really got going when I had them schedule one on one editing meetings with me. I read their articles and I'd mark them up, and then when we met I would have them tell me about their research. This helped me figure out what they really needed to include in their introductions, and helped me guide them through how to talk about their work. 

As it turned out, I had an absolutely fantastic time with this class, especially once the editing started. In one particular week I ended up with several days that consisted of back-to-back meetings with students, some of them lasting over an hour. And I loved it. You know why? Because I could see the effort paying off. This is what mentoring is all about.

One of the things I noticed was that many of them had a hard time understanding that they had accomplished something important. For example, I had a student who had literally been working on a cure for cancer (well, for a particular type of lung cancer), and what they were doing was working! The student had come to me, concerned that they hadn't done enough, and that their results weren't very important. But it's actually really normal for Ph.D. students to have trouble with keeping this kind of perspective: during a Ph.D. one focuses in so closely on one particular problem that it's hard to remember why anybody else would care about one's topic, or to see one's progress.

So one of the most important things I did for students was to help them see what they had done, and help them recognize that what they were doing was important. And of course I also helped a lot of students with a lot of writing! And creating posters, and giving oral presentations. But I'll talk about those parts more another time.

For those who are interested, I used several books as resources. For general writing advice, I referred to Anne Lamott's book, "Bird by Bird." I highly recommend it, even if you aren't an aspiring writer -- it's a fun read. 

For more science-specific writing resources I used, "English Communication for Scientists" (Nature publishing); "Writing Science", by Joshua Schimel; and "Doing Science" by Ivan Valiela. (Yes, I am linking to these books at Village Books, which is a lovely, independent bookstore in Bellingham, Washington. No, I don't get anything for linking; I just like them.)

"English Communication for Scientists" is a great resource for anyone who needs to do formal communication styles and is also a scientist, or doing technical writing. It's short, it has examples, and it's free. It also has a lot of very useful, specific advice for writing, giving oral presentations, creating posters, interacting at poster sessions, and more. It also has some very interesting tips for non-native English speakers, which I find fascinating, and helps me learn more about English (even though I am a native speaker. There's a lot of stuff we do instinctively when speaking and writing, after all. I'm finding that I'm pretty interested in that stuff, too.)

"Writing Science" was recommended to me at a conference session at one of the American Chemical Society Spring meetings (which I attend each year.) I'm very glad someone mentioned it; it's a great resource. It is a much more detailed analysis of how to create a good story while also writing as a scientist, or doing technical or scientific writing. It has a lot of examples from the literature, and I really like that it has end-of-chapter suggested activities, which encourages an interactive approach with the material. (Yes, that makes it more like a textbook, but that's what it's intended for, so it's appropriate.) It's also clear that Joshua Schimel also reads other writers about writing -- he references many of them. I think it also helps to clarify some of the differences in formal writing between science and other disciplines, so it might be of interest to non-science writers, too. 

"Doing Science" was recommended to me by another parent at one of my younger son's swimming lessons (of all places!) The author of the book was his Ph.D. adviser (or post-doc adviser -- I forget which), and he said that it was the compilation of many years of wisdom gained mentoring graduate students. I can confirm that it's a really helpful book, especially for Ph.D. students in science. In addition to two very useful chapters on writing, it talks about experimental design, treatment of data, and more. The language chapters are especially functional because they have a lot of "common mistakes" explained, especially in terms of language that doesn't add anything to a paper. So it has suggestions for useless phrases to edit out, and words to avoid -- very practical things like that. 

If you have favorite books on writing, whether or not they're about science, do share -- I'm always interested in more perspectives.

Honoring memories

When we did our Fulbright orientation last September, one of the things that was emphasized was that history is very important in Hungary. Not only that, but that Hungarians remember their history, and find current significance by looking at connections with the past.

This is a pretty novel idea for most Americans, who typically have an extremely vague knowledge of our country's history. I found this idea impressive and admirable. I've been doing my own reading of US history (selected, mostly 20th century) over the past couple of years, and have found it very helpful in understanding our culture. I need to keep reading and filling in my (many, large) gaps, but hey -- progress is progress.

We were privileged to be in Hungary during the anniversary of the 1956 revolution to get the Soviets out of Hungary. It started on October 22, 1956, with students bringing their demands to the politicians. It continued on October 23, 1956, when the citizens of Budapest began actively ejecting them. Although the revolution was largely lead by students, and they were very poorly armed -- mainly with improvised weapons -- it was successful. For five days Budapest was free of Soviety intervention, and it breaks my heart to read about the sane and practical plans that the Hungarian people had for their nation. It breaks my heart because after five days the Soviety Union came back in with crushing force, and decimated the opposition, so that brief renaissance was never allowed to develop.

October 23 is a national holiday in Hungary, and I was curious to see how it would be "celebrated." I guess maybe that's not really the right word, because it's not an event to be celebrated, exactly, since thousands of Hungarians died during the revolution, and many many more died when the Soviets returned. But really, I think October 23 is a day to be celebrated. That act of rebellion incredibly brave, selfless, and idealistic. Even though it didn't result in independence, it was an amazing act.

So I was excited to go up to Budapest to witness the 62nd anniversary of the revolution. On October 22, the boys and I took the train up, and met a friend (and fellow Fulbrighter.) We were, in turn, meeting his friend, who happens to have been a student at the engineering university in October 1956, and who participated in the revolution.

We all met on the Pest (east) side of the Danube river by the Petőfi bridge (named for the famous Hungarian poet and freedom fighter, Sándor Petőfi), and walked across to the Buda (west) side, then turned left to follow the river south to the ELTE campus, where the memorial events were starting.

There was a wreath-laying ceremony with various officials talking, and some people singing, and I had my first look at an "uprising" flag -- the Hungarian flag that has a hole through the middle of it. The history here is that, after the Soviets took over Hungary, they put a star in the middle of the Hungarian flag. During the 1956 revolution, someone cut the star out as a symbol that Hungarians were freeing themselves from Soviet control. It remains as an important political symbol even today.

They also had some old trucks from the time period that were decorated with flags, and just generally very cool. Several boys that I know enjoy trucks, and even got to sit in the driver's seat. It was definitely a high point of the day. They used the trucks for a practical purpose, too -- to carry people who had movement limitations from one memorial site to the next.

After the wreath-laying ceremony, we walked a short distance up the street to one of the ELTE buildings, where there were more ceremonies inside. Most of us couldn't go in -- it was by invitation only for the first bit. But after a while the event opened up, and we went in and watched. I couldn't understand most of what was said, of course, but it was still interesting and impressive. There was some fabulous music, too. Have I mentioned that musicians in Hungary are amazing? If not, here's my first mention. I suspect it won't be the last.

Probably the most surprising thing that happened that day was that when we went back outside after this second round of speeches, there was a huge crowd of people outside, and most of them had torches. And they were on fire. I'd never been in a crowd of people with lit torches, and there is a significant energy when there's that many people and that much fire. Everyone was very mellow, so it wasn't an angry mob or anything, but wow. That's a lot of fire.

We asked around and acquired a few torches, and the crowd started walking north, along the banks of the Danube, taking the same route that the students had taken when they marched in 1956. It was a beautiful walk, and an unexpectedly beautiful day. Very chill police officers walked along with the procession, and it was clear that the torches were expected -- there were metal barrels at intervals to put one's spent torch end in. We did see a few dropped on the ground, of course, but most people were responsible about disposing of them.

We walked until we were across the river from Parliament. It was dusk, and the lights were on, and it was a gorgeous view. There were more speeches in the square where we stopped, and more music, and then they did a light show on the building beside the square. It was a pretty incredible experience, but by that point it was pretty late, and we were all hungry and tired, so we adjourned to a coffee shop for a snack, and then headed home for dinner.

The next day, which was October 23, there were a bunch more official events, but we were pretty tired, so we decided not to attend. As we headed out from our friend's apartment, we met his new neighbor and her two golden retrievers, a very old, white one named Pitypang (Dandelion) and young and bouncy one named Bátor (Brave). (Hence I will ever after remember the word for "brave" in Hungarian.)

We chatted for a while, and said what we'd been doing the previous day. "Oh yes," the neighbour said, "We'll be going out this afternoon to protest the Orbán government." I was a little astonished at her frankness. But perhaps I shouldn't have been surprised. Although Orbán won a significant majority in the 2018 elections, he's not a popular candidate. (Sound familiar?) It's complicated, so I won't even attempt to untangle it here. I'm also not even sure I exactly understand all of it. But what relieves me the most is that people are becoming more politically active -- much more than they have been in recent years. So yes. Get out and vote. Make your voice heard. Protest when you feel called to. We have the luxury of being able to protest safely. I pray that we won't need to do anything like the brave citizens of Budapest did in October 1956 in order to have our voices heard, though!

Fast forward: Homecomings

Well, I'm sure you've noticed my vast and gaping silence since my post about the golden days of October. Despite my best intentions, November and December got away from me! Work increased exponentially, and then it was the holidays, and then...it was time to pack and go back to Seattle.

So we got on the airplane in Budapest amidst snow and sub-zero temperatures, and we were greeted in Seattle with sun and mid 50's (F). Now I'm back to work, and we have transitioned from the unexpected sunshine to a much more seasonal cold Seattle winter rain (and mud), and I'm trying not to feel too sorry for myself.

Change is hard. Any change is hard. And this... This is definitely a big change.

The jet lag was done with pretty quickly, but the culture lag is something else. I keep wanting to say "Egészségedre!" when someone sneezes. Then I remember to say "Bless you" instead. It feels weird to see so many large parking lots, and so much suburban sprawl. I'm doing too much driving. On the other hand, there are mountains! And of course there are plenty of trees, too.


One of the most baffling feelings is trying to convey to people at home the magnitude of what I experienced. I received a letter from my aunt just after arriving home, and she expressed it perfectly. She wrote, "One of the things that was always hard for me coming home from faraway places was the simple impossibility of sharing with the folks at home. They see you but are blind to your treasure of experiences."

People ask me how it was, and I say (beaming), "It was amazing!" And it was. I am still in a continuous state of amazement. I try to say something more, to share details that will start to touch the ways that this experience transformed me, and I find myself wordless. I'm trying to describe the whole elephant in a few words, and I can't,
so I stop speaking.

In reality, I think what's needed is more time for reflection. So that's why I'm turning back to this blog as a way to process -- and share retrospectively -- more of my experiences. It will take some time to decant them. I suspect I'll still be writing about this in six months... I hope you don't lose interest! But hey -- I'll try to mix in some more current events, too, to make sure that things stay fresh. I suspect the topics are going to pop out in totally random order, but hey -- life is kind of like that anyway.

Thanks for being along on this adventure with me -- it's just as important as the one I just had.

Golden October

After two weeks of crisp and chilly mornings with clear and chilly afternoons, we are experiencing a (presumably brief) respite of beautiful golden warmth. What a blissful feeling! I just love the extravagance of warm afternoons after a period of cold. It feels so self-indulgent! And in October, the warmth is enhanced by the creeping gold and red color of the changing leaves. Is there anything more golden than a warm, October afternoon when the leaves are turning?

Sunday the weather was so warm that I took Ronan to a sandy beach on the far side of the Tisza (from us, anyway.) I've had my eye on it all summer, but hadn't managed to figure out how to get down to it. We biked down and enjoyed a few hours playing in the sand. It was almost too warm! Not something I expected to feel a week into October. Ronan dubbed it "the beach with the sparkly sand" -- there's a lot of mica mixed in with the sand, so this is a good name for it. Now he wants to go back every day! I said we might have time some days, but not every day. It gets dark pretty early, after all.

We were playing a bit before Sunday, too. Friday and Saturday we were at a Fulbright outing - we visited Veszprém, Zirc, Bakonbél, and Pápa. These are all west of Budapest, and a bit north of Lake Balaton - up into the Bakony mountains. (These are more like East Coast mountains, so I'm schooling myself not to call them hills.) Although our entry into Veszprém was less than ideal, since it was accompanied by Ronan's first experience with motion-sickness, we avoided similar drama the rest of the trip. (Thank goodness!)


Veszprém is a beautiful city, and I wouldn't mind the chance to go back and wander around. While there we visited the University of Pannonia -- the English and American studies programs. Interesting fact: I almost applied to the Fulbright position at the University of Pannonia. They have a really strong chemical engineering program. But then I met my current host at an American Chemical Society (ACS) conference, and it was too good a connection to look elsewhere. But hey -- now I do have a contact at the University of Pannonia, so...maybe in future...

We also visited Veszprém's American Corner. They have a weekly science activity for kids, so of course I was interested. They have a library of English-language books, and Tristan discovered "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy." He wanted to borrow it, but of course we don't live in Veszprém. I had to assure him a bunch of times that we could get it from our own library, probably in e-book form, and probably as soon as we next had internet access. He was hard to convince. He wanted to stay. So did Ronan, who had discovered the toys in the kids corner. He was having so much fun playing that he cried when we had to leave, poor bug. Of course he was also quite hungry by then, since I still wasn't sure what his stomach was up to -- so that didn't help.

Veszprém is also home to World's End. It might not be quite as dramatic as the Cliffs of Moher, but still quite beautiful and unexpected, given the local terrain. Nearby World's End is a church with an arm-bone from Blessed Erzsébet, the beloved wife of Hungary's first Christian king, Saint Istvan. I'm not much into relics of this kind, but it certainly was interesting to see. I wonder if it was her lower arm or upper arm -- I'm not very well-versed in human anatomy, I'm afraid.

Zirc is a short drive from Veszprém north, into the mountains. It's home to a beautiful Cistercian abbey. We admired the gorgeous books in their library. Well, most people did. I followed Ronan around, trying to convince him that there was something to be interested in. I finally hit on trying to find the biggest, "stumpiest" book in each of the library rooms. (In case you haven't yet encountered this word, "stumpy" is usually used (by Ronan, and now by us, too) to describe size, or quantity, but not exclusively. It can express other characteristics, too. Ronan once described a harbor seal as a "bundle of stump." So you see it is a flexible word. It always said admiringly, though -- regardless of what other characteristics are being described.) There were some pretty stumpy books, I can tell you! And of course it was a library, so there was a stump of books there.

The Cistercian's didn't just collect books; they also collected trees. There's a beautiful arboretum just outside the abbey walls. We took a lovely walk there. It was such a mild afternoon, and the air was so fresh in the mountains, it was quite a treat. Ronan and I rambled along, threw pine cones into the creek, and looked at mushrooms. Tristan hung out with a couple of his adopted uncles - in Hungarian these are bácsi (plural would be bácsik.) (Incidentally, this is also how students address their teachers -- female teachers are "aunts" and male teachers are "uncles.") Tristan has several "uncles" among the Fulbrighters, which is fabulous. I really appreciate how welcoming everyone has been with him, especially. He needs more people.

This brings me to the other reason why this trip was so welcome. Yes, of course it was extremely fun to be guided through beautiful places, and learn about interesting history and culture. But more than that, it was really helpful to reconnect with friends in a social, casual setting. We don't get enough of that in Szeged. I've been working on changing that mix for us by inviting people over, but that only goes so far.

Ronan is probably the best off of the three of us - he gets to play with friends all day. Tristan has a little time to talk at school, of course, but so far he hasn't been able to get together with friends outside of school. Many of his classmates are extremely busy with extra-curricular activities. We're working on it, but it's challenging. So it was especially welcome because Tristan got to spend most of the two days on the trip hanging out with his bácsik -- which was fabulous for everyone involved.

And me? I do OK most of the time. I'm used to having a lot more interactions with my colleagues, though. Here at SZTE my colleagues are uniformly very busy -- so I don't see them much, and I feel a little awkward approaching them to ask if they want to go out for lunch, or get a coffee. It feels like an imposition. So as I said earlier, I've compromised by hosting parties on the weekends. (Speaking of which -- I think it's time to host another one!)

Anyway, even though I've described a lot, that wasn't even the whole of Friday. After Zirc we headed to Bakonybél, a tiny little town deeper into the Bakony mountains -- that happens to have an observatory. So that evening after dinner we walked to the observatory, and got to have fun looking through a telescope. Improbably, the weather was even cooperative! It was a beautiful, clear night; a little humid, so some of the images weren't super clear, but still. No complaints. We got to see Saturn, Mars, a star cluster, and the Messier 57 (M57) ring nebula. Then we went down to the planetarium and saw a movie on black holes. Finally, everyone trouped out to the roof to do some good, old-fashioned star gazing. By this time Ronan was seriously tired (it was after 10pm), so we headed back to the hotel with a few other Fulbrighters who were ready to turn in, too. The night was crisp and dark, the walk was refreshing and companionable, and the beds were comfortable. Although it might've started a bit rough, it turned into a lovely day.

And then it was fall

Just in time for the official turn of the season, the weather in Szeged has shifted from summer to fall! This morning I got up to an unexpectedly chilly bright, windy day. The clouds are high and puffy, the sky is vibrant blue, and the air has a flavour that I haven't felt in...well, about a year, right? The crispness is so striking, especially in contrast to last week, when I spent most afternoons sweating.

I don't think I have a favourite time of year, and I think that's healthy. I try to enjoy where and when I am -- what other option do I have anyway? If I pine for a season the rest of the year then I'm spending most of the year unhappy. What kind of life would that be?

Fall is so beautiful. The trees haven't really started to turn colors here, but I suspect that these chilly mornings will start to bring the change. But fall is also sad. It's the last fireworks display before the bleakness of winter. Of course winter can be beautiful, too, but I have a more complicated relationship with winter. I've had too many traumatic events happen in the winter for me to look toward it with anticipation. For example, that big elm tree in my front yard has given me some strong feelings of trepidation about winter -- but at the same time I don't want to just chop the tree down. I love trees! And it's a beautiful, old tree. It gives us incredible shade. But it's also scary.

So let's get back to living in the moment -- in fall. This weather makes me want apple cider, pumpkin pie, and cozy blankets. It also reminds me of more things I'd forgotten about bike commuting: the cold hands and ears. Time to make myself some mittens and an earmuff, I guess!

I am now in my third week in the semester, and it's been an incredible experience so far. My classes are so different than what I usually teach, but it's inspiring and exciting (as well as intimidating.) Rather than teaching chemistry, right now I'm teaching science writing. In one class we're focusing on writing journal articles, and in the other we're writing about the elements in the periodic table. Well -- we will be very soon. So far we've mainly been talking about how to write, and some of the challenges for students who are not native speakers of English. Incidentally, the book "Doing Science" by Ivan Valiela has a wonderful chapter on language, specifically intended for scientists who are not native speakers of English. But really, it's not just for scientists, and it's not just for non-native speakers of English. I think anyone who does academic writing would probably get something out of it.

Have you noticed that this is the first time I've really said anything about my classes this semester? So far I've struggled to try to describe my experience -- that's why I haven't said much. I guess I can start with the basics: my classes are small. One class is all Ph.D. students (and a couple of med students); the other is M.Sc. students. Incidentally: in Hungary everyone who is admitted to a Ph.D. program already has a master's degree. They also all have to get level B2 or better in English. This rating means that they are upper intermediate in speaking and writing -- they were probably all as good at English as I was at Spanish back in 1995 when I was nearly fluent. Some of them are a little rusty at speaking because they earned that rating coming out of high school, and maybe haven't had the opportunity to practice speaking all the time. But -- many of them are addicted to English-language movies and serials, like Game of Thrones, so they get lots of opportunities to practice listening and understanding.

This means that most of my students speak at least two languages fluently, or nearly fluently. For those keeping track, in the near future, students in Hungary will need to pass two language exams at level B2 or better in order to be accepted to attend university. Intimidated? I am. But I'm also kind of jealous. I love that so many people here speak multiple languages. I love that bilingual education is the norm, not the exception. There are so many good reasons to learn other languages. Travel is one, of course, but it's also fun to learn more about the structure of languages. I learn so much about English when I study other languages. It's a mirror, you know? By looking at other languages I can more easily reflect back on what English is like.

Anyway, I'll get back to my lovely students. I said my classes were small. I have 18 students in the Ph.D. class and 11 in the M.Sc. class. My students in the Ph.D. class are definitely more confident about speaking in class, and they often contribute and ask questions. I've found us some great things to read to better understand keeping story in our writing (Terry Tempest Williams, "Not Ours to Exploit"), an awareness of audience (Neil deGrasse Tyson, "A Cosmic Perspective"), how to structure introductions (Lorelei Fister and David C. Johnson, "Controlling Solid-State Reaction Mechanisms Using Diffusion Length in Ultrathin-Film Superlattice Composites", which is a journal article from my P.I.'s lab -- but back before I was a graduate student.) I also used that last one as a good example of keeping language simple and minimising the use of jargon (even in a scientific article.)

I sent a big mental "thank-you" to my wonderful colleague, Nathalie Kuroiwa-Lewis, because I spent a half an hour in both of my classes talking about rhetoric and rhetorical situations. I also will give a shout-out to Purdue OWL, since they have some really great resources on so many things having to do with writing (including rhetoric.) (I do like to give credit where it's due!)

It's really weird, though. I'm only teaching 90 minutes, 3 times a week. So the vast majority of my time here I'm really doing something else. What that looks like for me is a lot of time on course prep. This makes sense because -- guess what? -- I've never taught anything like this before. So yeah, Mondays and Wednesdays I spend around 4-5 hours before class getting ready for class. Tuesdays and Thursdays I get ready for my Thursday class. I'm not sure how many hours, but probably 4-5 again. On Friday I try to pick up the pieces, answer the e-mails, and figure out what I need to prepare before next week.

But wait! There's all kinds of hours in between there where it sounds like you're not doing anything, Arwyn. What is this, some kind of fancy holiday? No, no! Don't jump to conclusions. I'm keeping very busy, believe me!

In addition to the classes I'm teaching I've worked out an outreach schedule where I'll be doing science activities with the Szeged American Corner 2-3 times a month. Do you know about American Corners? I didn't until last March when my Fulbright host said, "Hey, there's an American Corner opening in Szeged. You should reach out to their director. They're on Facebook!" So I did. American Corners are an outreach of the US Embassy. Local communities host spaces where there are cultural events intended to increase understanding of the US. But they also have really practical stuff, like conversation circles where people can practice English. Right now there is (of course) a push to increase STEM activities in the American Corners, so that's where I come in.

But...I have very strict rules about science activities that I do. Yes, yes, of course I do stuff that's safe. No explosions. Nothing horribly toxic. But that's actually not what I'm talking about (because I consider it obvious that I'd demand safety.) Instead, what I am is deadly opposed to the whole "science magic" kind of show that you often see. It's not that I don't think they're any good. They're super fun! But I'm just not into science as entertainment; I'm into science education. I think learning is already exciting. I think that having "science magic" shows makes science more mysterious, not less. That's right -- I'm trying to make science accessible and interesting, and I want to convince you that you can do science, too. I think "science magic" does the opposite. No, I don't have any scientific research studies that demonstrate this, but maybe I'll talk to some of my colleagues about designing some when I get back.

This next week is our first event, and I'm going to do a chemistry and art activity -- we'll make egg tempera paints. If you want to give it a try, send me an e-mail and I'll share the activity. Only household ingredients required for this one.

Anyway, I'm also biking Ronan to and from his kindergarten -- so that's about 20 km per day I'm on the bike. It's been great -- I get exercise while I'm commuting! Wow! Revolutionary, I know. I envy and admire all of you who've been doing it all along. I'm just happy I can do it right now. It's great to get daily exercise without scheduling in something separate, and it's also really beautiful. I get to ride across the Tisza river every day, and that's lovely. And also my hips are feeling better. Even with sitting for 6+ hours a day while I prep. And then of course there's the constant battle we all face of making sure we have groceries in the house, food on the table at mealtimes, clean clothes to wear, and a house that isn't a total biohazard zone... So yeah. There's plenty to keep me busy.