(no subject)
Bored bored bored bored boooooooored...
- Captain Murphy, Sealab 2021
Well, it's about time for a big ol' update, and since Jamie's in Oxford for her graduation ceremony (and I'm not - long story), I thought I'd take an hour or two and write it up. Brace yourselves...
I've talked about the apartment and the landlady, and the only development since I last posted is that we have a dishwasher in the kitchen now. This is instead of the washing machine and dryer that I was quite sure she said she was getting for us. But no. Dishwasher. This is fine, since I didn't think we'd have either, but it was still a bit of a surprise. And it's still not hooked up to anything, so for the moment it's of absolutely no use whatsoever, except as a kind of ironic setpiece as I stand next to it, washing dishes by hand.
My Dad and brother Mike were here for a week, and that was quite cool. Mike stayed with me, and my Dad stayed with Marcel just up the lake a bit. Jamie arrived while they were here, so we got a few days of extended family dynamic, and it didn't seem too traumatic for any concerned. They toured around a bit while I was at work, and we managed to get away for a bit for trips to Basel and Luzern - we ate at the Blind Cow restaurant again and saw a truly, truly awful modern art exhibit in Basel. It was called "Art Basel" and billed as one of the largest contemporary art exhibitions in Europe, but from what I saw, this is actually a negative thing. It's held in the Basel convention center, and everyone in there was walking around with the same look of bemused horror as they looked at things that can only loosely be defined as "art" - and that because they're indoors and have a plaque next to them. Apart from the simply bad things - the dark room full of speakers that played jolting noises, the vacuum cleaner tethered to the middle of a ring that randomly turned on and thrashed around, and the dioramas that would get a fourth-grader sent home with a note from their art teacher, there were the truly bothersome things, like the photos of naked, hooded, sexually aroused people wearing goat skulls and hanging upside-down by their ankles from what looked like slaughterhouse meat hooks. Fuck modern art. I know in saying that I'm making myself out to be a Philistian prick, but I'll bet that the only people who disagree with me are fans of the contemporary art community, and, by definition, their opinions are worthless. The best thing I saw there was an optical illusion in wood - it was a stepladder that looked normal from one angle, but if you looked at it from the side you could see that it was only about half an inch thick. But that's arguably carpentry, and whatever it was, it stood out like the proverbial pearl in a dunghill.
The last day that my dad and brother were here, we went up into the hills (through wheatfield and cow pasture) to a farmhouse/restaurant that's not on the map. The occasion was a joint 40th birthday party for Marcel, Urs and Maettu, 3 of the older Creaholic guys. It was a Schwingfest. This means there was food and such, but the main event was a round-robin "Schwingen" tournament in which the guests were encouraged to participate. I've also written about Schwingen before, but basically it's a traditional Swiss sport where you put on canvas shorts and grapple with an opponent in the middle of a sawdust ring. You can only grab the opponent's shorts, and you win by throwing him flat on his back. Photos from the party are available at: http://www.bmn.ch/schwingfest So we all participated, far past the point at which the novelty had worn off. Mike and I were matched up in the first round (of bloody course), and he beat me - in the process I tore an intercostal muscle and for the next three weeks it hurt like a bitch whenever I coughed or sneezed. I had two more matches after that, and went 1-1. Mike, on the other hand, went undefeated in the first round, and made the playoffs. He eventually finished 3rd despite hurting his neck and won a bottle of wine. My Dad lost 3 in a row (Mike and I had the advantage of being in the lightweight bracket, but the heavyweight guys had mostly done this before), and on the last one his opponent tripped him as he was being pushed down (totally legal) and my Dad tore the ACL and MCL in his left knee. So that put a bit of a damper on the rest of the afternoon for us. Although it turns out that wrapped, refrigerated soft cheese makes a very good (and extremely effective) cold pack. He's OK now - he can walk around with a brace - he's rehabbing his MCL and his ACL surgery is in 5 weeks. This whole incident kind of put me in a mood to re-evaluate the concept of the Schwingfest party, and I've been increasingly pissed off about it. 2 of the 3 birthday boys (Urs and Maettu) were big, tall, strong, experienced guys who were utterly dominant and finished 1 and 2, so it's pretty obvious whose idea it was to have this type of party. Some of the guests were pretty athletic people, but my brother, a complete novice, finished 3rd, and most people I talked to got hurt in some way. What say ye? Is it bad form to come up with a party concept for an obscure sport that you're good at, and then pummel your guests? That's what's known as a leading question, but I've had some dissent on this issue from certain quarters , so I'd be curious to know what you think. And no, this isn't just because my dad, my brother and I were all injured, and my Dad needs reconstructive surgery. I think my objection stands on principle as well. But that was the story of the Schwingfest, and my family visit.
We had fireworks and apple pie for 4th of July - apple pie courtesy of a joint preparation effort and the use of my WW II-era gas oven (scary), fireworks courtesy of the Italian victory in the World Cup semifinal game that night. No-one celebrates like the Italians, except possibly the Portuguese...but the Portuguese got beat. Twice. Good riddance, I say - bunch of preening, diving fairies. Not that the Italians were guiltless in either department, but hey. Actually, there were multiple instances of fireworks - some Italians (presumably) had stored them up in case they won the semi, and a week or so earlier, the Swiss had set them off right in the middle of town, after Switzerland got through to the knockout stages. I'm not sure where one gets big, professional-type fireworks, but obviously someone in Biel has a hookup, because these were the real deal. However, they were being launched from a city rooftop, and seemed a lot lower than recommended. But no one got hurt that I know of. Jamie and I had watched the second half of that game (a compromise worthy of Solomon) on a big screen set up in the main shopping street, so we were pretty much right underneath when they went off. Nothing like someone else's nationalistic celebration to make you feel out of place. But it was a pretty well-behaved victory party, at least compared to, say, the English. Jamie didn't have much tolerance for the World Cup, as an event or a way of passing one's time, so this outdoor game-watching session was timed to end just before a late showing of X3, which was decidedly "eh". We were the only two people in the theater, and I kind of felt bad for making them run it. But oh well. Got to get your entertainment somewhere.
On the subject of entertainment, soon after her arrival here, Jamie had made it clear that she wanted to "do things" on the weekends other than sit around or go into the office and work (or watch the World Cup), and for a couple of years now she had wanted to see a certain castle on the Lake of Geneva, so on one of our first free weekends, we took bikes with us to Montreux and cycled along the lake to the Chateau de Chillon - supposedly the most-photographed thing in Switzerland. Certainly the most photographed castle, anyway. Google it. It's built on a rock outcropping in the Lake of Geneva, about two kilometers outside of present-day Montreux, and it's an absurdly good tourist stop. It's authentic, it's weird, it's not too huge that it's overwhelming, and there's a set tour path but you can wanter around into the catacombs and the old prison, where a famous priest was once chained to a post for 4 years because he supported the independence of Geneva. They have armories and banquet halls and watchmen walkways and secret passages, and it's on an island outcropping, so every window looks out on a sheer drop into the lake. On the land side, it's just a moat, but on the lake side, the water is immediately 700 feet deep. On the way back, we even got to see a tiny snippet of public performers at the Montreux Jazz Festival, which was just getting underway. Unbeknownst to Jamie, we were going to a Santana concert at the Jazz Festival two weeks later, so she made a big deal out of having been. We had to come back early so that I could pick my room for next year in the Selwyn college housing lottery (done - I'm in the house with the laundry facilities), but all in all, an excellent day trip, and a big step towards establishing Jamie's event-planning credentials.
And then she tricked me into going to a gay-pride festival. Every year in Lausanne (which, incidentally, is built at a 45-degree angle) there is a "Festival de la Cite", and it coincides with a gay pride week. This could easily have turned into a farce, but it's not - they turned the entire old town into a pedestrian zone, and they have probably half a dozen big stages set up for free musical acts that go all day, as well as food stands, an open-air cinema, comedy shows, local bars, dance clubs, and what I swear was an Airstream trailer owned by Philip Morris and converted for selling cigarettes to the throng. We made a day of it - came to Lausanne early and went to the Olympic museum (very cool, I thought, particularly the exhibitions of all the old torches and medal designs), and around dinnertime headed up towards the festival. We wanted to see the cathedral, and happened to come in just as people were starting to sit down for that evening's free classical concert - a string quartet playing two Mozart pieces I can't remember the names of. We got kick-ass pews, so we stayed for the concert, which was excellent. The second act added a second viola to the quartet...always a plus. Wandering around the festival afterwards was also excellent - no public drinks ban, no rowdiness, lots of great music, and food stands that had to be seen to be believed. One in particular stands out - it was a gigantic tropical fruit buffet that also sold fresh strawberries, raspberries, pastries and little finger foods like Greek Dolmades. Jamie thought she was having some kind of fever dream. The festival wasn't gay-specific; it seemed like most of the city had showed up for it. There was perhaps a slightly elevated number of same-gender couples walking around, but certainly nothing obscene. Or at least nothing up until we left at about 11. We watched Germany score their 3rd goal against Portugal on the way to the train station, and went home happy.
Speaking of the World Cup, specifically the final, it's a weird feeling knowing that about 2 billion people are doing exactly what you're doing at exactly the time you're doing it, but other than that, I don't have much to say. I'm sorry it went to penalty kicks; what a shitty way to lose - or win - a world championship game of anything. It's like deciding the Super Bowl with a field-goal kicking competition if it ends with the teams tied. Why don't they just play Russian Roulette instead? At least the loser will feel better that way. But I will say seeing that headbutt was one of the most surreal experiences of my life - it was like an iFilm clip, except live...and watched by 2 billion people. I also think it's utterly hilarious that Zidane has so much respect built up over his career that the Italian guy he beat down in front of 2 billion people is now being investigated - formally investigated - because the presumption is he must have said something unforgivably horrible. So it's now possible that he'll actually be punished for having provoked his own beatdown. Delicious. And, not incidentally, what a headbutt. Holy shit - it looked like he'd been tasered. The conversation leading up to it had the kind of look where, as an American football fan, you're expecting a little chippiness, a little shoving, but a decisive, opponent-felling headbutt? Even in the replays, I'm still surprised by it. And on the subject of surprises...
I'd been thinking about buying a surprise ticket to come over to Oxford for Jamie's graduation, and I was delayed by working out accommodation, and general incompetence on my part. However, I finally had it all lined up, found a flight, went to book, and...the flight sold out while I was in the process of putting in my credit-card information. Right. Went back a bit later, found out that it was just a certain band of ticket prices that had sold out, tried it again at the more expensive price, got an error again. Tried Swiss instead of British Airways. Error. Five different booking sites (including the airlines' own), errors every time. I'm not an extremely superstitious person (OK, I am), but in the end I decided not to press the issue. So she was disappointed, of course, but since she didn't know I'd been planning this (she knows now), it doesn't count as a negative per se.
And now we get to the Montreux Jazz Festival. Last Monday, Creaholic bought tickets for all the employees (and family, partners, whatever) to go to Santana's "My Blues Is Deep" concert at the festival. I'd wanted to keep this a surprise as well - Jamie absolutely loves Santana - and I managed to...right up until lunchtime on the day of the trip, when someone asked us if we were coming to see Santana that evening. I'd warned a number of people about the surprise, but not all of them. Dammit. But it was nearly as good anyway. The company rented a bus (which turned out to be a solid move), and we went right after work. I think the Jazz Festival has retained a bit - a bit - of its original grassroots charm, even though they now have wristbands and security guards and proprietary money for the food stands (no, I'm not kidding, they're called "Jazz"). I'm sure you can find an old codger to tell you that the festival used to be great, but I think it's still pretty great, largely because it's limited in size. Montreux is pretty tiny. It's crowded, but not massive. The biggest auditorium (where our concert was) is about half the size of Barton (non-Cornell people, sorry for the confusion, but what're you doing reading this anyway?). The flip-side of this exclusivity is that our standing-room tickets were about 70 bucks (89 francs). One unexpected bonus - the large, crowded hall was pleasantly cool; they had some kind of supercharged AC system. It was a peculiar concert. It wasn't a "songs" concert, it was a "musical experience" concert, meaning they tried weird combinations. There were moments of absolute brilliance, and there were stretches I could have done without. The thing ran from 8:30pm to 1:15am with a 30-min intermission, which is a long time to stand in one place, no matter how storied. Was it worth it? Absolutely - Santana played a cover of Hendrix's "Foxy Lady" with the Neville Brothers, and even though the rest of the song sounded nothing like Hendrix's band (it was kind of funk/soul rendition), Santana sounded like Hendrix. There was a Dennis Chambers drum solo that was a thing to see (ask Adam), and a few isolated Santana moments that were recognizable and awesome. He did an extended session with Taj Mahal, and it was a bit weird to see an old, fat, toothless black Creole guy shouting "Heal Carlos" during his solos in a section on how the blues will heal you. The crowd wasn't the most energetic - because of the price it's a fairly self-selecting group - but the various acts definitely were. On the whole, I liked the less experimental sections better, and the first half better than the second half, as the Neville Brothers aren't really my thing, but overall, definitely worth it. But it was a Monday night and we didn't leave Montreux until 2, and I didn't get to sleep until 4. The office was a bit barren the following morning. I think I got in around 11:30.
And the rest of the week has kind of been recovering from that - Jamie left on Thursday, and I finally got some productive work done Friday, with a really excellent brainstorming session for one of our medical applications. In true Creaholic fashion, I've gone from being absolutely un-utilized to being jammed in one week.
So anyway, Jamie's in Oxford, and I'm trying to find things to do. I went for a run this morning on a cross-training trail that the city built in a local forest - it's only 2 1/2km, but it has 15 stations for cross training exercises, and it's absolutely kicking my ass at the moment. Got to get back into shape for next year. This morning I did the loop twice, but only did the exercises the second time around, and it took about 45 minutes. Jamie will be back on Wednesday with her mother, her mother's mother, and her mother's mother's new husband (i.e. not her biological grandfather, but for all intents and purposes...). Her mother is staying in the apartment with us, so that should be an interesting dynamic (since she's kind of against the idea, and the grandparents are really against it, as they were against her coming over here at all), but overall the visit should be a good one. There'll be a lot of touring around, since they all have rail passes. I have to clean the apartment before they arrive, but other than that I don't have much of a plan for the weekend. I'm hoping to go rowing for the first time in about a month tomorrow morning, and I should get some reading done, but that's about it. Thanks for sticking with it. If you skipped down to this point, I know you'll be back eventually to read through the rest. I'll leave you with two...
Cultural notes of note:
In addition to the twice-weekly garbage pickup here (Tuesdays and Fridays), they also have a weekly "Compost and Biodegradables" pickup. You have these special bags that you fill with all your plant crap - vegetable peels and so forth - and they pick it up on Thursday along with your lawn cuttings, hedge clippings, or whatever. I swear, they must have a government office specifically devoted to coming up with ways for the government to spend money. And on the subject of money...
I've already written about the cash-based society here, and how people are pretty comfortable with cash. My previous extreme example of this the small boy I saw two years ago in an electronics store, buying a laptop computer with cash. And it was only two bills - 2 1000-franc bills. To give you some perspective, at the moment, 1000 francs is just over 800 dollars. This week I saw something that topped it - a middle-aged man in the grocery store, buying a pack of chocolates on sale - on SALE - for about 6 francs, and paying with a 1000-franc bill. So he got his chocolates, and 994 francs change, and strolled out of the store as though nothing had happened. The cashier didn't seem fazed either - she held the bill up to the light for a sec, but there was no elaborate analysis. I almost kind of hope he was a forger - that would make the whole thing seem a lot more sane.
- Captain Murphy, Sealab 2021
Well, it's about time for a big ol' update, and since Jamie's in Oxford for her graduation ceremony (and I'm not - long story), I thought I'd take an hour or two and write it up. Brace yourselves...
I've talked about the apartment and the landlady, and the only development since I last posted is that we have a dishwasher in the kitchen now. This is instead of the washing machine and dryer that I was quite sure she said she was getting for us. But no. Dishwasher. This is fine, since I didn't think we'd have either, but it was still a bit of a surprise. And it's still not hooked up to anything, so for the moment it's of absolutely no use whatsoever, except as a kind of ironic setpiece as I stand next to it, washing dishes by hand.
My Dad and brother Mike were here for a week, and that was quite cool. Mike stayed with me, and my Dad stayed with Marcel just up the lake a bit. Jamie arrived while they were here, so we got a few days of extended family dynamic, and it didn't seem too traumatic for any concerned. They toured around a bit while I was at work, and we managed to get away for a bit for trips to Basel and Luzern - we ate at the Blind Cow restaurant again and saw a truly, truly awful modern art exhibit in Basel. It was called "Art Basel" and billed as one of the largest contemporary art exhibitions in Europe, but from what I saw, this is actually a negative thing. It's held in the Basel convention center, and everyone in there was walking around with the same look of bemused horror as they looked at things that can only loosely be defined as "art" - and that because they're indoors and have a plaque next to them. Apart from the simply bad things - the dark room full of speakers that played jolting noises, the vacuum cleaner tethered to the middle of a ring that randomly turned on and thrashed around, and the dioramas that would get a fourth-grader sent home with a note from their art teacher, there were the truly bothersome things, like the photos of naked, hooded, sexually aroused people wearing goat skulls and hanging upside-down by their ankles from what looked like slaughterhouse meat hooks. Fuck modern art. I know in saying that I'm making myself out to be a Philistian prick, but I'll bet that the only people who disagree with me are fans of the contemporary art community, and, by definition, their opinions are worthless. The best thing I saw there was an optical illusion in wood - it was a stepladder that looked normal from one angle, but if you looked at it from the side you could see that it was only about half an inch thick. But that's arguably carpentry, and whatever it was, it stood out like the proverbial pearl in a dunghill.
The last day that my dad and brother were here, we went up into the hills (through wheatfield and cow pasture) to a farmhouse/restaurant that's not on the map. The occasion was a joint 40th birthday party for Marcel, Urs and Maettu, 3 of the older Creaholic guys. It was a Schwingfest. This means there was food and such, but the main event was a round-robin "Schwingen" tournament in which the guests were encouraged to participate. I've also written about Schwingen before, but basically it's a traditional Swiss sport where you put on canvas shorts and grapple with an opponent in the middle of a sawdust ring. You can only grab the opponent's shorts, and you win by throwing him flat on his back. Photos from the party are available at: http://www.bmn.ch/schwingfest So we all participated, far past the point at which the novelty had worn off. Mike and I were matched up in the first round (of bloody course), and he beat me - in the process I tore an intercostal muscle and for the next three weeks it hurt like a bitch whenever I coughed or sneezed. I had two more matches after that, and went 1-1. Mike, on the other hand, went undefeated in the first round, and made the playoffs. He eventually finished 3rd despite hurting his neck and won a bottle of wine. My Dad lost 3 in a row (Mike and I had the advantage of being in the lightweight bracket, but the heavyweight guys had mostly done this before), and on the last one his opponent tripped him as he was being pushed down (totally legal) and my Dad tore the ACL and MCL in his left knee. So that put a bit of a damper on the rest of the afternoon for us. Although it turns out that wrapped, refrigerated soft cheese makes a very good (and extremely effective) cold pack. He's OK now - he can walk around with a brace - he's rehabbing his MCL and his ACL surgery is in 5 weeks. This whole incident kind of put me in a mood to re-evaluate the concept of the Schwingfest party, and I've been increasingly pissed off about it. 2 of the 3 birthday boys (Urs and Maettu) were big, tall, strong, experienced guys who were utterly dominant and finished 1 and 2, so it's pretty obvious whose idea it was to have this type of party. Some of the guests were pretty athletic people, but my brother, a complete novice, finished 3rd, and most people I talked to got hurt in some way. What say ye? Is it bad form to come up with a party concept for an obscure sport that you're good at, and then pummel your guests? That's what's known as a leading question, but I've had some dissent on this issue from certain quarters , so I'd be curious to know what you think. And no, this isn't just because my dad, my brother and I were all injured, and my Dad needs reconstructive surgery. I think my objection stands on principle as well. But that was the story of the Schwingfest, and my family visit.
We had fireworks and apple pie for 4th of July - apple pie courtesy of a joint preparation effort and the use of my WW II-era gas oven (scary), fireworks courtesy of the Italian victory in the World Cup semifinal game that night. No-one celebrates like the Italians, except possibly the Portuguese...but the Portuguese got beat. Twice. Good riddance, I say - bunch of preening, diving fairies. Not that the Italians were guiltless in either department, but hey. Actually, there were multiple instances of fireworks - some Italians (presumably) had stored them up in case they won the semi, and a week or so earlier, the Swiss had set them off right in the middle of town, after Switzerland got through to the knockout stages. I'm not sure where one gets big, professional-type fireworks, but obviously someone in Biel has a hookup, because these were the real deal. However, they were being launched from a city rooftop, and seemed a lot lower than recommended. But no one got hurt that I know of. Jamie and I had watched the second half of that game (a compromise worthy of Solomon) on a big screen set up in the main shopping street, so we were pretty much right underneath when they went off. Nothing like someone else's nationalistic celebration to make you feel out of place. But it was a pretty well-behaved victory party, at least compared to, say, the English. Jamie didn't have much tolerance for the World Cup, as an event or a way of passing one's time, so this outdoor game-watching session was timed to end just before a late showing of X3, which was decidedly "eh". We were the only two people in the theater, and I kind of felt bad for making them run it. But oh well. Got to get your entertainment somewhere.
On the subject of entertainment, soon after her arrival here, Jamie had made it clear that she wanted to "do things" on the weekends other than sit around or go into the office and work (or watch the World Cup), and for a couple of years now she had wanted to see a certain castle on the Lake of Geneva, so on one of our first free weekends, we took bikes with us to Montreux and cycled along the lake to the Chateau de Chillon - supposedly the most-photographed thing in Switzerland. Certainly the most photographed castle, anyway. Google it. It's built on a rock outcropping in the Lake of Geneva, about two kilometers outside of present-day Montreux, and it's an absurdly good tourist stop. It's authentic, it's weird, it's not too huge that it's overwhelming, and there's a set tour path but you can wanter around into the catacombs and the old prison, where a famous priest was once chained to a post for 4 years because he supported the independence of Geneva. They have armories and banquet halls and watchmen walkways and secret passages, and it's on an island outcropping, so every window looks out on a sheer drop into the lake. On the land side, it's just a moat, but on the lake side, the water is immediately 700 feet deep. On the way back, we even got to see a tiny snippet of public performers at the Montreux Jazz Festival, which was just getting underway. Unbeknownst to Jamie, we were going to a Santana concert at the Jazz Festival two weeks later, so she made a big deal out of having been. We had to come back early so that I could pick my room for next year in the Selwyn college housing lottery (done - I'm in the house with the laundry facilities), but all in all, an excellent day trip, and a big step towards establishing Jamie's event-planning credentials.
And then she tricked me into going to a gay-pride festival. Every year in Lausanne (which, incidentally, is built at a 45-degree angle) there is a "Festival de la Cite", and it coincides with a gay pride week. This could easily have turned into a farce, but it's not - they turned the entire old town into a pedestrian zone, and they have probably half a dozen big stages set up for free musical acts that go all day, as well as food stands, an open-air cinema, comedy shows, local bars, dance clubs, and what I swear was an Airstream trailer owned by Philip Morris and converted for selling cigarettes to the throng. We made a day of it - came to Lausanne early and went to the Olympic museum (very cool, I thought, particularly the exhibitions of all the old torches and medal designs), and around dinnertime headed up towards the festival. We wanted to see the cathedral, and happened to come in just as people were starting to sit down for that evening's free classical concert - a string quartet playing two Mozart pieces I can't remember the names of. We got kick-ass pews, so we stayed for the concert, which was excellent. The second act added a second viola to the quartet...always a plus. Wandering around the festival afterwards was also excellent - no public drinks ban, no rowdiness, lots of great music, and food stands that had to be seen to be believed. One in particular stands out - it was a gigantic tropical fruit buffet that also sold fresh strawberries, raspberries, pastries and little finger foods like Greek Dolmades. Jamie thought she was having some kind of fever dream. The festival wasn't gay-specific; it seemed like most of the city had showed up for it. There was perhaps a slightly elevated number of same-gender couples walking around, but certainly nothing obscene. Or at least nothing up until we left at about 11. We watched Germany score their 3rd goal against Portugal on the way to the train station, and went home happy.
Speaking of the World Cup, specifically the final, it's a weird feeling knowing that about 2 billion people are doing exactly what you're doing at exactly the time you're doing it, but other than that, I don't have much to say. I'm sorry it went to penalty kicks; what a shitty way to lose - or win - a world championship game of anything. It's like deciding the Super Bowl with a field-goal kicking competition if it ends with the teams tied. Why don't they just play Russian Roulette instead? At least the loser will feel better that way. But I will say seeing that headbutt was one of the most surreal experiences of my life - it was like an iFilm clip, except live...and watched by 2 billion people. I also think it's utterly hilarious that Zidane has so much respect built up over his career that the Italian guy he beat down in front of 2 billion people is now being investigated - formally investigated - because the presumption is he must have said something unforgivably horrible. So it's now possible that he'll actually be punished for having provoked his own beatdown. Delicious. And, not incidentally, what a headbutt. Holy shit - it looked like he'd been tasered. The conversation leading up to it had the kind of look where, as an American football fan, you're expecting a little chippiness, a little shoving, but a decisive, opponent-felling headbutt? Even in the replays, I'm still surprised by it. And on the subject of surprises...
I'd been thinking about buying a surprise ticket to come over to Oxford for Jamie's graduation, and I was delayed by working out accommodation, and general incompetence on my part. However, I finally had it all lined up, found a flight, went to book, and...the flight sold out while I was in the process of putting in my credit-card information. Right. Went back a bit later, found out that it was just a certain band of ticket prices that had sold out, tried it again at the more expensive price, got an error again. Tried Swiss instead of British Airways. Error. Five different booking sites (including the airlines' own), errors every time. I'm not an extremely superstitious person (OK, I am), but in the end I decided not to press the issue. So she was disappointed, of course, but since she didn't know I'd been planning this (she knows now), it doesn't count as a negative per se.
And now we get to the Montreux Jazz Festival. Last Monday, Creaholic bought tickets for all the employees (and family, partners, whatever) to go to Santana's "My Blues Is Deep" concert at the festival. I'd wanted to keep this a surprise as well - Jamie absolutely loves Santana - and I managed to...right up until lunchtime on the day of the trip, when someone asked us if we were coming to see Santana that evening. I'd warned a number of people about the surprise, but not all of them. Dammit. But it was nearly as good anyway. The company rented a bus (which turned out to be a solid move), and we went right after work. I think the Jazz Festival has retained a bit - a bit - of its original grassroots charm, even though they now have wristbands and security guards and proprietary money for the food stands (no, I'm not kidding, they're called "Jazz"). I'm sure you can find an old codger to tell you that the festival used to be great, but I think it's still pretty great, largely because it's limited in size. Montreux is pretty tiny. It's crowded, but not massive. The biggest auditorium (where our concert was) is about half the size of Barton (non-Cornell people, sorry for the confusion, but what're you doing reading this anyway?). The flip-side of this exclusivity is that our standing-room tickets were about 70 bucks (89 francs). One unexpected bonus - the large, crowded hall was pleasantly cool; they had some kind of supercharged AC system. It was a peculiar concert. It wasn't a "songs" concert, it was a "musical experience" concert, meaning they tried weird combinations. There were moments of absolute brilliance, and there were stretches I could have done without. The thing ran from 8:30pm to 1:15am with a 30-min intermission, which is a long time to stand in one place, no matter how storied. Was it worth it? Absolutely - Santana played a cover of Hendrix's "Foxy Lady" with the Neville Brothers, and even though the rest of the song sounded nothing like Hendrix's band (it was kind of funk/soul rendition), Santana sounded like Hendrix. There was a Dennis Chambers drum solo that was a thing to see (ask Adam), and a few isolated Santana moments that were recognizable and awesome. He did an extended session with Taj Mahal, and it was a bit weird to see an old, fat, toothless black Creole guy shouting "Heal Carlos" during his solos in a section on how the blues will heal you. The crowd wasn't the most energetic - because of the price it's a fairly self-selecting group - but the various acts definitely were. On the whole, I liked the less experimental sections better, and the first half better than the second half, as the Neville Brothers aren't really my thing, but overall, definitely worth it. But it was a Monday night and we didn't leave Montreux until 2, and I didn't get to sleep until 4. The office was a bit barren the following morning. I think I got in around 11:30.
And the rest of the week has kind of been recovering from that - Jamie left on Thursday, and I finally got some productive work done Friday, with a really excellent brainstorming session for one of our medical applications. In true Creaholic fashion, I've gone from being absolutely un-utilized to being jammed in one week.
So anyway, Jamie's in Oxford, and I'm trying to find things to do. I went for a run this morning on a cross-training trail that the city built in a local forest - it's only 2 1/2km, but it has 15 stations for cross training exercises, and it's absolutely kicking my ass at the moment. Got to get back into shape for next year. This morning I did the loop twice, but only did the exercises the second time around, and it took about 45 minutes. Jamie will be back on Wednesday with her mother, her mother's mother, and her mother's mother's new husband (i.e. not her biological grandfather, but for all intents and purposes...). Her mother is staying in the apartment with us, so that should be an interesting dynamic (since she's kind of against the idea, and the grandparents are really against it, as they were against her coming over here at all), but overall the visit should be a good one. There'll be a lot of touring around, since they all have rail passes. I have to clean the apartment before they arrive, but other than that I don't have much of a plan for the weekend. I'm hoping to go rowing for the first time in about a month tomorrow morning, and I should get some reading done, but that's about it. Thanks for sticking with it. If you skipped down to this point, I know you'll be back eventually to read through the rest. I'll leave you with two...
Cultural notes of note:
In addition to the twice-weekly garbage pickup here (Tuesdays and Fridays), they also have a weekly "Compost and Biodegradables" pickup. You have these special bags that you fill with all your plant crap - vegetable peels and so forth - and they pick it up on Thursday along with your lawn cuttings, hedge clippings, or whatever. I swear, they must have a government office specifically devoted to coming up with ways for the government to spend money. And on the subject of money...
I've already written about the cash-based society here, and how people are pretty comfortable with cash. My previous extreme example of this the small boy I saw two years ago in an electronics store, buying a laptop computer with cash. And it was only two bills - 2 1000-franc bills. To give you some perspective, at the moment, 1000 francs is just over 800 dollars. This week I saw something that topped it - a middle-aged man in the grocery store, buying a pack of chocolates on sale - on SALE - for about 6 francs, and paying with a 1000-franc bill. So he got his chocolates, and 994 francs change, and strolled out of the store as though nothing had happened. The cashier didn't seem fazed either - she held the bill up to the light for a sec, but there was no elaborate analysis. I almost kind of hope he was a forger - that would make the whole thing seem a lot more sane.