A good week

I like Sunday evenings. They are quiet and relaxing usually (except for when I realize I desperately need to do laundry because I have no underwear left in the drawer). Sipping some hot tea, collecting my thoughts and memories of the week that's about to end. It had been a great week.

Started out in California, by the beach, walking on the rocks. Rachel noted yesterday that my freckles had even come out :)



Wednesday, 7 am, landing at JFK in a snowstorm (#56235632896 for this season), by 9 am I was in bed for a much needed nap after the most uncomfortable red-eye I have ever been on (note: never get the seat that's directly in front of an exit row, especially not on an overnight flight!!!). By noon, I was eating lunch back in the lab, which consisted mainly of penguin-shaped gummy bears (gummy penguins) purchased the day before in Monterey - they were a huge success in lab, of course:) By 4 pm I was done with my weekly meeting with the boss - he never knew I was gone, I am pretty sure - during which we agreed that I would be writing my thesis for the next couple of months and we don't really have to meet to discuss new data during that time, YES!


Thursday, restaurant week lunch at Cafe Boulud (one of Daniel Boulud's NYC establishments) with the lab crew: 3 courses for $24, at a place where the waiters pull out the chair for you to sit and you have to dress in business casual for lunch. Ah NYC! In any case, restaurant week used to make me feel like I didn't belong, like I was cheap, but what the hell, they must make a ton of money off of us poor people who could normally never afford to eat at those places, and besides, "who cares" is the NYC motto!
So this chocolate molten cake with coffee ice-cream for dessert was absolute culinary heaven, especially for someone who doesn't think that dessert without chocolate is dessert at all.


Oh yes, and I did get some work done on my thesis too, although much work didn't really fit into this week. I find that I cannot start really writing until late in the afternoon, and then I am really inspired till pretty late in the evening when things quiet down in the lab and most people leave. Well, a couple of glasses of wine also help bring the muses out :)

I tried something a bit new yesterday: went for a group run that's organized by the nearby running store. They do this twice a week, a pretty big group actually, I see them in the park a lot - after a while, you recognize people who run around the same time of the day, and also I recognize people who live in my neighborhood who run, this is a village after all. The occasion was an information session that was taking place after the run about the Ragnar Relay that I signed up for. So we all gathered in the store at 10 am and 3 of the people who work there were leading 3 different pace groups out to Central Park. The problem was that I wanted to run a bit more but the longer group was going at a faster pace (7-7:30/mile) and my pace group was only running ~5 miles. I, with my "I can do this" attitude headed out with the fast group - about 8 guys and 2 girls, my kind of running team! - and well, surprise surprise, after about 2 miles I almost threw up and had to walk and I was definitely not talking to anyone (I could barely breath) and then finishing my run at my own pace was just miserable too after those horrible first 2 miles. All right, I cannot run at 7:30 min/mile, that's established now. In any case, the people were nice, when I got back to the store finally, they said "Oh, we sped up to way below 7 min so don't worry" hehe, I wasn't too worried, just exhausted and in pain. But I am excited about this relay in May, I only know 2 out of the 11 other people in our team - called Gimpy Kenyans - I am still having some doubts about how well organized our team is because races like this one require a whole lot of organization! It's almost 200 miles, goes over a whole 24 hours or more, 2 vans need to follow whoever is running with supplies and the rest of the team in them, and then there is all that stuff you need for 12 people over 2 days. Huh, it's gonna be interesting and adventurous!

The rest of the day is a bit of a black box, I had some friends over in the evening, made some gluhwein, made some mixed drinks, we went dancing, and then I woke up at 2 pm today with a splitting headache. I think that's a good Saturday. And there is no hangover which cannot be cured by a good run - well, call me crazy but right as my headache went away, I was ready to go! Despite the miserable run I had yesterday, I headed out with confidence - this was also a rare day when the temperature was above 0C, all of 3C, which cannot be wasted by sitting inside feeling sorry for myself!! - and voila, I had one of those rare meditative runs which I barely remember, which felt so good I couldn't stop smiling afterwards, during which my whole body felt completely in synch, legs and arms moving in perfect unison, feeling like I was weightless, almost gliding above the pavement. So good! 7 easy miles, no trace of a hangover and ready to do laundry now!

1000 miles

Sometimes you need to go a 1000 miles - or 3000 - to get exactly where you were before you started. For me, it was a trip across the country. I felt different already when I got on the plane to San Francisco. Like a chapter had just ended and there was a brief pause before the next one started.

It shouldn't happen but it did: can blame it on winter, all the snow, lack of sunlight, post-holiday blues, selfish people, heartbreak. All outside of my control, still they got me down. It was difficult to see the positives and think optimistically, I wasn't feeling like myself. I gave myself a month. That month was up last Saturday. Same day that I got on that flight.

The pause was a 3-day conference near Monterey, CA. One of the most beautiful places I have ever been to. The West Coast is different. The colors are different: the blue of the ocean is deeper, the greens of trees make them seem more alive, everything is brighter, more colorful. Sunshine in January. Dogs playing in the sand, surfers getting ready for an early morning ride, running along the beach at sunrise, driving along the coast at sunset - the sun disappearing beyond the horizon over the Pacific - bonfire on the beach late at night in the dark, only guided by the light of the flames: something very primal about it.

I feel renewed and also like my old self. There will always be winters - unless I move to Monterey - and there will always be selfish people and ones who break my heart. While no man is an island - as someone very wise had once said - it shouldn't be so easy to have the delicate balance of emotional well being tipped over. Well, every once in a while, I suppose even the strongest can be affected.

In any case, a new chapter begins NOW.

And here are some pictures from my brief pause:

Asilomar

Gloomy Sunday

Detour

I was on 69th St running towards Central Park when I suddenly had the idea to just keep going over to the West side. It's Saturday midday and I have nowhere to rush to: I have decided that to stay sane during the thesis-writing process, I will need one day a week to just not look at the thing at all and not go to the lab at all. So instead of turning onto East Drive at 72nd, I kept going straight across the island to the Hudson River Park.

It's hard to explain how much I have missed the Hudson. Last spring and summer I got so into riding my bike up and down the Hudson: it's completely mind-freeing, beautiful, I love the speed, the wind, everything! And I hate that it's winter now and I haven't gotten my bike out since mid-November when the weather was last nice. I miss it so much: the past week I had several dreams with my bike or with me riding a bike. And then there are the grassy lawns of Battery Park City, where I love hanging out just sitting, reading, watching people.

Today might not have been the perfect day for this detour - the high temperature for the day was 0C/32F - and it was super windy by the river too! But I kept running South and even with the wind and the icy Hudson it felt so nice! I didn't have a plan beyond just running; with a credit card in my pocket, I figured I would just improvise. I thought I could turn around at one point and run back the way I came or just keep going until I didn't want to go any further and then find an alternate way home. This is not the smartest plan when it's 0C outside, but yeah, I just kept going. Then I was down in Battery Park City and I remembered that the World Financial Center had all these shops and restaurants and restrooms, so I got a hot chocolate to warm up.

I walked around the building, and then realized - well, I was aware of this half consciously or maybe fully consciously, who knows - that I was across the street from an apartment I had visited not too long ago belonging to a certain man I still have mixed feelings about even though he doesn't even deserve a single thought but sadly that's not how these things work. Even if the guy is the most horrible person who obviously has some issues I don't want to even know about (cuz really, who disappears without a word; one day everything being great and making plans and then never hearing from him again). Anyway, there I was, across the street from his place and just felt kind of sick, so I went back out in the cold, took one look at the building, then quickly ran across the street to find a subway station.

I don't know what I expected. To see him there? Or to find some sort of closure in seeing his apartment building? Why is closure so important? Why can't we just forget about the people who are not worth thinking about?

Strangely enough, it feels like some sort of closure did happen today, whether it was the run or something else but I do feel relieved somehow. Following an instinct, even when it goes against rational reasons, can be the better path to chose in some cases.

Sometimes a detour can be rather therapeutic - conscious or not - what matters is that the Hudson is still there and even when icy and covered with snow, the lawns I miss so much are waiting for the return of the spring. And so am I.

Perfect Monday

Most people hate Mondays. Maybe I am weird, but I like Mondays. Maybe it has to do with the fact that I and many of the people I am close to work on weekends. At one point this Sunday afternoon, my side of the lab was completely full; if I were to just look around, it would have looked like any weekday. I don't mind at all. I think if your work is not your hobby (which is how my college advisor put it) and not something you love, then you should consider switching jobs. I am extremely lucky to be doing something I enjoy doing even on a Sunday afternoon. Even though it's not what I want to do for the rest of my life. (And since what I do want to do for the rest of my life will involve many nights and weekends spent working, it's good to be getting used to it now :)

So back to my original point: I like Mondays. It's also that I absolutely adore the people I work with - even those who usually stay out of lab on the weekends. We have a great time, long lunches spent telling stories, gossiping. After some significant progress I had made on figures for my thesis yesterday, I managed to actually write a whole page today (it's the hardest to actually start the writing process. I can spend days on little details of figures to procrastinate, but to actually write concise sentences is something else.) And then Janice announced that she had baked a cake - for December belated birthdays! One of my favorites yet. Makes any day just a bit brighter.




Then there is our Monday night running group. Despite the horrendously cold forecast (20F/-6C) 4 of us headed out to the park after work. It turned out to not be quite that cold and did a nice couple of loops around the Southern part of Central Park. Then we headed back to my apartment to make some gluhwein - warm mulled wine - order in some Thai food, spend some time with the girls (the only boy in our running group can be a bit antisocial at times and does not drink. I offered him some hot chocolate but he declined.).

A long hot shower after everyone left, and here I am now all bundled in my PJs and fleece and all I have left to do is document this wonderful day.

Pen pals

I met Jeanie when we were about 12 or 13. It was at fencing camp in a small town in Hungary. Her coach in NYC was Hungarian and was good friends with my coach in Budapest. So once a year, he brought his students to the old country to learn some fencing. (The strategy worked perfectly, as the US is now beating Hungary in fencing left and right!)

I was just beginning to learn English and Jeanie was super nice. We decided to be pen pals. We wrote good old fashioned letters to each other for years. She used to tell me about life in NYC as a teenager, school, fencing, things we did when were 13. When I first visited NYC a few years later, I stopped by the fencing club she and her teammates I all met back at camp practiced at. Then we lost touch, as it happens so often. She decided to focus on studying and her acting career and didn't fence so much anymore. We saw each other maybe a couple of times at competitions while I was in college.

Then, on Saturday night, I was sitting with a few friends at this Belgian beer hall in the West Village, and there was Jeanie, all grown up, with a group of friends, deep in conversation. So I tapped her on the shoulder; she recognized me right away, we hugged and talked for a few minutes. We told her friends how we were pen pals back when we were kids. When I still lived across the ocean in the old country. We decided to catch up on Facebook and grab a cup of coffee sometime.

People don't believe me but it's true: this is a freaking village! You never know when you'll run into your childhood pen pal!

On the F

Saturday evening, downtown F train. I am sitting reading a book. In Hungarian. It's rare but today I just picked up this book that's been sitting on a shelf for months (maybe years) that a friend gave me saying that I would love it. It's only recently that my reading mood has returned after some months of hiatus, so I opened it to the first page, read a few lines and then couldn't put it down. After a few hours I had to leave my apartment to meet some friends downtown, so there I am on the F train sitting and reading.

At 14th St, someone sits next to me. I am so engrossed in the story I don't even look up. Some moments later I realize that his face is practically touching mine and he's reading my book. Not just glancing over, but READING it!! Ok, I thought, maybe he's Hungarian, wouldn't be the weirdest thing that ever happened in this city. I am trying to concentrate on the story, but it's getting harder. Ignore it or sit somewhere else? Well, I have to get off at W 4th, so just deal with it for another stop. Then he opens his mouth. Thick Russian accent.

"Hungary?"
"Oh yes, do you speak Hungarian?"
"Oh no, just been there, are you married?"
"Um, what? No, what?"
"What's your name? Can I have your number? How old are you?"
"Um, WHAT? No, WHAT? I don't think so"
"Please, your number!"
"It's my stop, sorry, um, no, no number."

And with that I am off the F train.

Now, I am not one of those girls who doesn't enjoy being flirted with. Quite the opposite actually. I think it's flattering and a great boost to one's confidence. I even like it when the construction guys whistle when I pass by. In fact, I am disappointed when they don't. But to start a conversation with "are you married?", that's a bit too much.

Are there any men in this city between those who want to marry you on the subway and those who just walk out without a word??