A few weeks ago I received a letter from the University of Provence saying that if I wanted them to send me my PhD diploma, I had to provide the university office with a self addressed envelope with a 5,60 € stamp on it. They have of course not thought about the simple fact that getting stamps in euros in the UK might be slightly complicated if not impossible. Once again, James came to my rescue and offered to provide them with what they needed. The office was closed for the summer so he set on the mission only today. Here’s the e-mail he sent me afterwards:
“Hi Anna,
Well, unfortunately I wasn't able to drop your diploma envelope at doctoral studies office today. You no doubt remember how the university has a habit of loosing paperwork, but this time they outdid themselves. They lost the office. Depending on who you ask, Bureau 10 has moved, is moving, or will be moving, but no one knows when or to where. All anyone can agree on is that it's not open, if it's even still there at all. Some say it's destined to stay at the Schuman campus, other say it will re-open at the MMSH. We shall see. They said to call in a week or two, so I'll give them a ring in a while.
--James”
What can I say – there are some things I definitely do not miss about France.
Monday 25 August 2008
Saturday 16 August 2008
On public toilets and roller coasters of a completely different kind
There’s nothing like going to the mountainside when you’re low. There’s nothing like a good hike up to shed all your weary thoughts and feel in control again. There’s nothing more overwhelming than going to the mountainside when you’re happy. Especially when you go down to the local pub after a solid hike, feeling the effort in your thighs, get a perfect pint of Guinness and the night air is fresh and even the toilets smell like mountainside toilets should. I felt as if all the happiness was about to burst me open and the only thing I could find to do about it was cry. Who would think that public toilets could trigger such reactions… (funnily enough, a few more memorable moments of this trip involved standing outside public toilets in the night).
Anyway, I am not a religious person, but I stood outside those toilets for good five minutes crying and praying to The One Up There that s/he would not take this away from me. Cause all this feels as if s/he had finally decided that I had been through enough now and it was time to give me a break.
But highs like that exhaust you too. And then the vile little voice of the messed up person you used to be makes itself heard and tells you that all this is wrong and you’re just winding yourself up but we’ve been there before and we know how it is going to end. And you listen even if you don’t want to, cause it just makes sense – indeed, we’ve been there before and there’s no reason why this should be any different. I suppose that sleepless nights caused by a deflating air-bed did not help there.
But then someone makes you coffee and your rational thinking kicks in and you realise that what really is the matter is that being that happy is a scary feeling, cause you just can’t help looking over your shoulder as if someone or something was going to steal it away from you or make you pay for it. And that you’ve been single for far too long and enjoyed it far too much, and that mainly is all there is to it.
Anyway, I am not a religious person, but I stood outside those toilets for good five minutes crying and praying to The One Up There that s/he would not take this away from me. Cause all this feels as if s/he had finally decided that I had been through enough now and it was time to give me a break.
But highs like that exhaust you too. And then the vile little voice of the messed up person you used to be makes itself heard and tells you that all this is wrong and you’re just winding yourself up but we’ve been there before and we know how it is going to end. And you listen even if you don’t want to, cause it just makes sense – indeed, we’ve been there before and there’s no reason why this should be any different. I suppose that sleepless nights caused by a deflating air-bed did not help there.
But then someone makes you coffee and your rational thinking kicks in and you realise that what really is the matter is that being that happy is a scary feeling, cause you just can’t help looking over your shoulder as if someone or something was going to steal it away from you or make you pay for it. And that you’ve been single for far too long and enjoyed it far too much, and that mainly is all there is to it.
Thursday 7 August 2008
On squashed organs and near death experiences
The big plan for my 30th birthday was for me to go on a roller coaster. I had never done that before, and I found it quite pathetic to be 30 and not had made that experience. However, with the move to England and the PGCE and all, it just didn’t happen. When I told Paul about it, he agreed that it was definitely wrong and a few days ago we went to Alton Towers, which is a big amusement park not far from here.
And so I lost my roller coaster virginity on Oblivion, which mainly consists of you dropping from 60 meters into a black hole. It felt like I was about to die. It felt like if all of my organs were squashed inside of me and I would never be able to use them again. Talk about easing me in!
I survived. But I still do not understand why one would do something like that to themselves.
Maybe I’m weird, but I somehow preferred the rides when you could giggle and scream to the ones where the air was compressed back into your lungs or where all you could think of was stabilising your head so that it would not rattle all over bumping off the sides of your seat. Even if the former do not give you an adrenaline rush like the latter ones do. Although I’m starting to suspect that it is a little bit like with child birth – with time, you forget how painful it was but you can still remember how exhilarated you felt after it was all over. So I might do it again, you never know.
And so I lost my roller coaster virginity on Oblivion, which mainly consists of you dropping from 60 meters into a black hole. It felt like I was about to die. It felt like if all of my organs were squashed inside of me and I would never be able to use them again. Talk about easing me in!
I survived. But I still do not understand why one would do something like that to themselves.
Maybe I’m weird, but I somehow preferred the rides when you could giggle and scream to the ones where the air was compressed back into your lungs or where all you could think of was stabilising your head so that it would not rattle all over bumping off the sides of your seat. Even if the former do not give you an adrenaline rush like the latter ones do. Although I’m starting to suspect that it is a little bit like with child birth – with time, you forget how painful it was but you can still remember how exhilarated you felt after it was all over. So I might do it again, you never know.
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