Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow

Yep, it turned into another long winter, alright. Despite freakishly hot conditions all over the country, and unusually mild weather around here, we just got hit by another major snow storm. Although things will gradually improve over the next two months, we can still look forward to blizzards in May and sub-freezing temperatures in June. Meanwhile, I've been parked in front of my computer screen in my windowless office - so there hasn't really been much to write home about. One or two things did get done, and I'll briefly re-cap below.

First off, I got to visit a state I'd never been to: Arizona. I had never seen the Southwest, really, other than a brief stop outside of Vegas, so I was stoked. Tom's girlfriend Jessi had clandestinely invited some of Tom's best friends down to celebrate his birthday, and we kept our mouths carefully shut about the plan. The whole gang flew in to Tucson:

We arrived about an hour ahead of the birthday boy, hid in the laundry closet (a little cramped!) and jumped out right in his face when he walked in the door. I swear, I have never before seen a man so close to a heart attack, and the look on his face was priceless. He literally reeled with shock for half an hour afterwards, and it took a number of stiff drinks before reality finally set in. Totally worth the effort. We then proceeded to the Dragoon Mountains and Cochise Stronghold to go climbing and partying for the weekend. We did pretty okay with the drinking, but our plans for climbing somehow offended the ghost of Chief Cochise:

Seeing the cholla cactus and yucca palms covered in two inches of snow was particularly surreal in light of the fact that the reknowned Western town of Tombstone was not two miles away - in other words, we were in the middle of a bone-dry desert. So, we retreated back to town and sought out friendlier climes for the remainder of the trip:

On another climbing note, I finally visited the nearby and world-famous-in-America Eldorado Canyon. It's got thousands of routes, and is quite warm in winter, but I was slightly underwhelmed by the experience. The routes are good, no doubt, but it's definitely not my type of climbing (balancy, runout) and the rock is on the loose side. Nice-looking spot, though:

This winter I've also had the privilege and pleasure (which I "treasure without measure", as Gilbert and Sullivan put it) to see my friends Corey and Emily get married. This was my second court-house wedding, and substantially less formal than the first one: we barely made it there before closing time! I got to sign the papers as a witness, though, and I'll be damned if the practically-minded couple didn't look just a little dazed, confused and happy afterwards. We then proceeded to have a hell of a wedding party, complete with live lobsters, rivers of champagne, $15 cigars and a fantastic cake. There are pictures somewhere, but I'm fairly sure that they're better left unpublished.

And while we're on a happy note, I'm pleased to announce that there's finally a peer-reviewed paper out with my name on it. Since the only result of getting a PhD - other than a piece of paper and a stupid hat - is a publication record of some kind, this was a Pretty Big Deal for me. It can be seen in its full and incomprehensible glory at the BMC Genomics journal, although I suspect you'd have to pay money to read the whole thing. While I'm bragging, I'll mention that we had the "Most Viewed" title in that journal for a couple of weeks. Hopefully it wasn't solely the result of me looking at it over and over...

Finally, I leave you with the European and American views of their counterparts across the Atlantic:

Things I'd forgotten about

"Out of sight, out of mind," they say. That goes for a lot of things, including many of those little details that make up so much of the difference between the US and the Old Country. It's always a little startling to be reminded when I go back. For instance, woolly bicycle seat covers:

Good-looking women of Middle Eastern descent:

 

 

Filmjölk:

Increasingly metrosexual men's fashion:

Poor service:

Beautiful snow-covered cityscapes:

Beer served in quantities larger than 12 oz:

And 18 hour nights:

It's all very disorienting. But it's always nice to see people I haven't met in years and years - probably set a new personal record this time by re-connecting with a guy from high school. How'd time whizz by that fast?

Life in the fast lane

"No shit, there I was, 7,000 meters up on the mountain, trapped in my tent because of a storm, and then my partner Andrei starts freaking and coughing his lungs out..." That was the smash-cut opening to a climbing story I once heard around the camp fire, and as a metaphor it is fairly representative of my situation sometime mid-semester. I was involved in no less than six separate science projects, doing a little web development on the side and trying to figure out how to be a good Teaching Assistant (tricker than it looks). Combined with a respiratory infection straight from Hell and a creeping case of insomnia, it was indeed time to give up on this particular ascent and start the retreat to Base Camp. I've since managed to get back on top of things, mostly, but I'm really looking forward to a lengthy trip to Sweden for Christmas Break right about now...

It's been a funny year weather- and climbing-wise around here. Fall came and went both quick and early:

We got some climbing in when the sun peeked out, and ran into a Boulderite or two:

And then it got real cold, real fast:

The first snow storm of the year pounded us pretty early, and surprisingly there's been snow on the ground pretty much continuously since. I've even been out winter bouldering at the Schoolyard, which really brought on some major nostalgia. I used to spend oodles of time fighting snow, ice and the odd polar bear to go climbing in the middle of winter in Northern Sweden. It's an equipment-intensive venture, but when the sun comes out and you find that one spot to climb out of the wind, it's totally worth it:

Photo by Pär Lindholm.

As mentioned above, being a TA isn't as easy as it looks. I've had my fair share of good and bads ones as an undergraduate, but I never really reflected on what they did. I guess I didn't ask too many questions: turns out they do a lot of stuff. Putting 20 hours a week into TAing a 3-credit class where I don't do much grading turned out to be necessary, much to my surprise. Sometimes you get something back for your effort - the students do well on a test, or understand a previously murky concept - but sometimes it feels like a black hole that you're tossing effort into. Much like research that way, I guess.

Toward the end of my time in Umeå I was toying with the idea of getting a teacher's certificate and having a whack at teaching high school science, but now I shudder to think of how badly that would've gone. My current students are all in their early 20's (or older), in the class because they want to be, and in some cases they're even first-year graduate students. And I still get terribly impatient with them at times. Having to deal with teenage kids while attempting to teach pretty low-level biology and chemistry would've resulted in someone's head blowing up: probably mine. That being said, it's been both interesting and rewarding to help people to "get it" this semester. Probably won't sign up again come Spring, though...

On a final and substantially lighter note, I've been listening to more and more country and bluegrass lately. Gillian Welch made quite the impression on me, and while Yonder Mountain String Band doesn't necessarily do so well on the vocalizin' they can pick banjos with the best. My cousin will be elated to hear that I'm even starting to appreciate the odd twang of the steel guitar. Today's guilty pleasure/cultural experience was Trace Adkins. He's indubitably pretty full of himself:



But funny:



And, erm, full of himself:



But according to Wikipedia, he really is pretty bad-ass. Worked an oil rig and got a finger chopped off -- no worries, sewed it back on and kept playing guitar with that hand. Bar fights? No problems. Getting shot twice in the chest by his ex-wife? Aw, just a flesh wound. And that rock-country blend sure is easy on the ears. I nominate him Dictator of Louisiana, or at the very least Real Life Folk Hero To Southern People.

Now you'll have to excuse me, I'm going to sit down and try to digest the tasty Thanksgiving meal that the Allshouse family so generously provided. Happy Turkey Day, everybody!

Americans and their guns

I recently opened my mailbox and found an envelope addressed to some unknown person (presumably the previous occupant of my apartment). However, there was no mistaking who the letter was from: the NRA. From a Swedish perspective, this is a somewhat mysterious organization and you may only have heard about it in the context of Michael Moore making fun of Charlton Heston (shame on you, Michael - you don't pick on people with Alzheimers for being confused). Americans are a little funny about their Constitution, and have kept it in essentially the original form for the last 200 years. In fact, it seems to be second most revered old document after the Bible around here - and I'm pretty sure that many people are just as religious about the Constitution as, well, actual religion. It contains a somewhat ambigously worded 2nd Amendment, refering to "a well regulated miltia" and "the right of the people to keep and bear arms". The former idea certainly helped win the Revolutionary War (a miltia is very handy when you don't have an actual army), but the latter phrase is at the center of a long-term and very inflamed debate about gun control. Essentially, should people be allowed to have all they guns they want? Coming back to the NRA, they're pretty firmly on the side of "more guns for everybody". The native Swede might find this a bit foreign, given the strict gun laws and relative lack of gun-related violence back home (American readers will likely find the high suicide rates of Finland and Sweden in line with their preconceptions). Personally I like shooting guns as much as the next man, but I'm kinda thinking that maybe people don't need more than, say, a rifle (for hunting) and a handgun (for target practice). See e.g. last year's pumpkin.



Anywho, with the recent ascendancy to power of a liberal Democratic President and Democratic control of the House, shooting enthusiasts everywhere are more paranoid than Stalin locked in a closet with five dudes from a Gulag. Ammo has become increasingly expensive due to stockpiling by people who are convinced that someday soon the Black Helicopters are going to come swooping down and take away their firearms. Enter, stage left: the NRA. I offer some excerpts from the 5+ page latter that I got from these nice people. This is about as American as it gets, for better or for worse:

• "We represent your 'special interest' -- YOUR FREEDOM!"


• "[...] a gun-owning voter who will work to elect the Second Amendment's allies and defeat her enemies!!!"


• "[...] you will do more to defend our precious constitutional rights in just one year than most Americans will do in a lifetime!"


• "Plus, if you join NRA in the next 30 days, you will recieve NRA's Heavy-Duty Duffel Bag [...] as a symbol of your history-making commitment to FREEDOM that few Americans can match."


• "Your commitment helps make the miracle of freedom possible."

As you might suspect, I did not send my check or recieve a duffel bag...

Playing tourist/tour guide

Recently had Mom and my sister here to visit - awesome! Showed them around the region and saw quite a few things I hadn't experienced myself. Quite a nice mini-vacation, as it were. The girls are now in New York spending Mom's money (and possibly Dad's, if they find clothes that are expensive enough).

As is customary, I took them up to the Snowy Range first:





And did a lap around Centennial, pop. 100, home to the worst kitsch in the West:



I showed them how fantastic science is:



Then it was off to the rodeo at Cheyenne Frontier Days, which was unexpectedly cool. I'd never gone to one myself, and the girls had certainly never seen anything like it. They were pretty stoked, not least because of the fantabulous hats:



I was a little taken aback at the sheer violence of this most Western of sports, though. It's surprising that these guys last more than a few years doing it professionally:



Then it was off to Rocky Mountain National Park. Arguably one of the coolest mountain ranges this side of the Atlantic, it has grand vistas:





Cute wildlife (hi, Chip! Or is it Dale?):



Pretty lakes:



Unfortunately, most of the park sits well above 10,000 feet and seeing stuff does require walking uphill frequently. Evidently, this doesn't agree with city slickers from sea level for very long:



But temporary hypoxia-induced setbacks aside, we had a blast while they were here. Hope this becomes a yearly tradition - I think it's Dad's turn next year. This time you'll catch a fish, Dad, I promise!