Summer Solstice - Geneva & Vaud

I am not sure how to put the past few months into words. I have known stress before. I have known exhaustion and uncertainty. But the work-related kind had never been intense enough to have such a perceptible physiological impact, disrupting my sleep, inducing recurrent nightmares, and playing unprecedented havoc with my hormonal balance. Despite it all, as prone to catastrophic or negative thinking as I might be under stress, there is a part of me—call it of divine inclincations if you like—that somehow always "knows" things will "get better."

With a tendency towards introspection—self-reflection at its best, but self-doubt at its worst—it has been incredibly challenging to filter out the insecurity-based distortive noise clouding my mind during this time. How much of it is intrinsic, how much contextual, and how much just plain inaccurate and/or unjustified? This quest for the truth of matters is still challenging, but at least now I can count with the valuable tool of a new beginning and a different setting as a means to distill feedback by generating contrast. I still battle with a certain (probably needless) sense of guilt and betrayal, as an automatic reaction to my somewhat counterintuitive deliberate efforts to "be selfish" while aiming for self-preservation.

Still, overall, the sun does shine—both metaphorically and literally. After a rather tame beginning to a very wet summer, the weather has improved somewhat parallel to my mood. Taking the initiative to escape a demoralizing situation through unprecedented alternatives has a positive impact in many ways and has helped me bypass the initial constrictive mindset of learned helplessness. Additionally, there is something exciting about the secretive handling these defensive actions demand, as well as the built-up pleasure of presenting a resignation under given circumstances.

And in the midst of it all, or rather at the end, as if wanting to prove my point, my wonderful experience in Geneva elevated my spirits even more. In contrast to what I remembered from 2022, this year’s SCR did deliver some really good lectures. I would be lying if I said I paid consistent attention throughout, but labeling the event as completely dull would also be untruthful. In a context other than our usual clinical setting, with a bit more time to mingle, share meals, and chat, I am aware of the depth of my appreciation towards my colleagues, some of whom I can call friends. But above all, I loved my free time with B, enjoying the duality of his soothing quiet introversion and stimulating conversational outbursts, completing our 20,000-step challenge, walking by the lake, devouring pistachio ice cream and mochis, exploring the old town, stuffing our faces with overpriced cinema popcorn while watching “Inside Out 2,” and immersing ourselves in the puzzling kingdom of Astronomy and Quantum Physics, learning about Dark Matter and Antimatter, and playing quantum tennis at the exciting CERN. This offered one of those rare but much-appreciated opportunities to rejoice in the mysterious wonder of existence itself.

A similar feeling was induced by the astonishing never-ending sunset over Lake Leman in picturesque Vevey. Close to the summer solstice, with the sun still present past 10 pm, watching the sky colors change for what felt like an eternity, twice as bright, twice as beautiful thanks to the reflection on the water, melted my heart with that deep sense of wonder that only nature can invoke. This whole afternoon felt surreal, really. Arriving at the small French-speaking location with B, test-sampling the lake’s shore for a short stroll, calibrating for our upcoming walk to Montreux, pushing our way through surprisingly numerous loud Portugal fans celebrating their victory against Turkey with waving flags, claxons, even fireworks shot out of car windows, and granting B’s McDonald’s dinner wish by pretending to have it as my own, culminating with a front-row seat by the lake, enjoying our greasy treat to a beautiful rainbow.

And that is how one of the worst professional chapters is compensated by one of the best in the personal realm. That is how everything that happens outside the Monday to Friday, 8:00 am to 6:00 pm range, which shines brighter than those Portuguese fireworks or even the solstice sun setting over Lake Leman, makes it impossible for darkness to take over my mind and heart, no matter what happens inside hospital walls.

100

in

Even though tomorrow I might have to wheel myself to work in a wheelchair, it was worth it. My neck hurts, my legs feel like Jell-O, my arms look like chicken wings (ironic from a Canarian woman in Switzerland), and I could fall asleep on my laptop any second while typing this. But the euphoric high of finally hitting 100k for the first time can only be compared to that of passing my board exam last month.

What a better way to remember an amazing colleague and friend than cycling all the way to Laufenburg with her —a pintoresque medieval town by the Rhine split between Switzerland and Germany—, and devouring a 3-scoop ice cream for lunch (first one of the season!) on a scorching hot spring day.

Valentine's Day in London

“Have you written anything new on your blog recently?” I was asked while diving into the depths of a London underground station whose name I can’t remember, Propercorn bags and water bottles in our hands, after an incursion into Waitrose territory. That made me realize I have, in fact, neglected this section for a while. Self-imposed publication standards are high, and this blog has involuntarily but irrefutably evolved to become travel focused more than anything else over the years.
After my most recent trip to Bali, many things have unraveled, only rather internally or in familiar settings.
But my day-long trip to London was eventful enough of an outing, hence here I am again!

It was a hard contrast landing in the UK after three whole days of sunny Mallorca —even if those 200 pages of Radiology Physics only allowed me to enjoy the weather briefly during lunch with my family or my 11k run at the beach, which I proudly completed in under an hour. It was cloudy now, but not too cold, and no heavy rain is all I (and my straightened hair) needed that afternoon. UK's public transport is livelier than Germany’s or Switzerland’s, and I was surprised, yet again, at how over 12 years spent in Germanic countries made such a thing both disorienting and amusing to my eyes and ears.

I reunited with B at the lobby of our accommodation, which smelled like an “old person’s home” (I have learned through experience than anything promising under 100£/night in London is, in fact, probably too good to be true), and after briefly getting sorted (a.k.a. starting the entropic process of getting my stuff scattered all over the place until it’s time to leave), we took the tube (Britishly pronounced “choob”) to North Greenwich, where my long-planned Magical Surprise was awaiting. Once again, as it’s often the case, I felt like a little small-town girl at the sight of our destination.
The O2 was not only outwardly aesthetically interesting, but architecturally smart, combining the central arena with the surrounding perimetric area of shops, restaurants and other venues. We enjoyed walking around and making time. My nonchalant “it’s pretty tall” comment didn’t give anything away, and I was a master at ignoring B’s “did you know you can climb on top of it" one as well. Eventhough my heart did skip a beat.

An hour later we were putting on climbing shoes, gabbing waterproof jackets, fastening our harnesses, and getting ourselves attached onto a metallic rail with a dangling giant hook. The climb wasn’t physically demanding, and we made our way to the top with little effort. But the drizzle and the wind added an element of unpredictability and challenge, and the sights at the top a sense of accomplishment and adventure. As promised, we enjoyed a 360-degree view of Greenwich, The Olympic Park and Canary Wharf, as well as a golf range and London City Airport. The sky was stubbornly dark grey, but the contrast provided by the appearing flickering city lights and the dim pink tones subtly making it through some of the skyline despite dense clouds was beautiful and mysterious.
After making our way back down, following our guide Dan’s recommendation, we took the choob again and headed somewhere dodgy but cool whose name I remember as well as the Waitrose one. We had chicken-based dinner at Nando’s, where B emptied the chain's monthly hot sauce supply. Repeatedly drenching the poor chicken in sauce made his plate look like a duck pond, but it wasn’t enough to put out the firely hunger in his eyes. This he would take care of later, fiercely devouring a bag of popcorn in record time. It was an exciting and fun afternoon filled with crowds, city lights, the loud grating, squeaky noise of the underground, wind and soft rain, B’s conversation, his company and his firm arm to hold on to.

The following morning, after exchanging gifts and undiscerningly enjoying an oatmeal-based breakfast, the 36£ robbery entry fee to London Zoo transformed our planned Valentine’s Day visit into a 7k hike around beautiful Primrose Hill, still managing to spot a kangaroo, some camels and prairie dogs from outside the fence, which was more than enough to make my day. Amongst conversation, laughter and silly riddles we made our way back, brought order to our my stuff and left for Liverpool Street. We resisted the alluring pull of McDonald’s chicken wraps only to have other chicken wraps somewhere else, while playing Monopoly cards, which I would be absolutely fantastic at, if it wasn’t for the fact that they are obviously jinxed.

One day I’m writing a blog entry on how one of my favorite things about Indonesia was B, whom I’m probably never going to see again, but whose company I enjoyed the most. Fast forward, he's making his way from the other side of the world to my doorstep. And a bit later, we’re climbing on top on the O2 arena in London. This time around, I wasn’t (too) sad to say goodbye. Distances are short, and plans ahead cast an optimistic light on everything and provide something to look forward to during the time apart. Furthermore, it’s hard not to feel, yet again, a sense of awe regarding life’s script-like twists and turns, modelling the soft transitions between duty-filled, rather dull phases and the more rewarding, exciting and fun ones that follow.