Thoughts while returning to Sweden

Thoughts "while returning to Sweden" is meant literally in this case. Thoughts during the four hour journey from home to home. Leaving home, coming home - strange thing, two homes barely connected to each other at all. Two different worlds.

The journey stars at the airport in Luxembourg. Tannoy announcements in English, German and Luxembourgian. Luxembourgian will always sound strange. Even stranger than Dutch. Even stranger than Danish. (No offense in both cases ...) Actually, Danish sounds not as strange as many people (especially in Sweden ...) say. Actually, it does not really sound strange at all. Unfamiliar, yes, but not strange. This I realise on the bus from the terminal to the plane. Two elderly gentlemen with only hand luggage who seemed to return home from a business trip are talking Danish. And they are quietly laughing all the time. Friendly people, the Danish ... (No, of course you cannot deduce this from two friendly gentlemen. But I like to believe that the Danish as well as the Swedes are friendly people.)

On the way to our plane I see the already described turboprops which I do not want to fly with. (See a few articles before.) We arrive at our plane - no turboprops, "normal" machine - greeting in Luxembourgian. ("Moien.") Security briefing in English and French. No Luxembourgian this time. Maybe not too unreasonable on a flight from Luxembourg to Copenhagen. The stewardess speaks French now. I scrape all my French together to successfully accept a sandwich and a coke. Maybe not too successful though as later on the stewardess will address me in English ...

We arrive in Copenhagen. The same people (stewardess and captain) who spoke French and English before speak Danish and English now. It even could have been Swedish but it strikes me every time that in a few hundred thousand Euro airplane the speakers still sound as if they are from the 19th century ... (Same in railway sattions by the way ...)

Four countries in four hours. Almost as good as Europe in ten days.

We get out of the plane. Kastrup is slightly larger than Luxembourg and so we have to run through the ehole building to get our luggage. The advantage is that our luggage is already running circles when we arrive. The railway station is very close now as well. I rumble down the staircase and enter the quite dark station. The next train arrives in six minutes. Then the mad part of the journey begins. Where is the ticket machine? Nowhere to be seen. I rumble further down the rail. Finally. A dark room, two strange guys inside, two ticket machines. I hack my desired destination into the machine. Time is running, it gets hectic. The machine asks me onehundredthousand extraneous question, does not accept my traffic card which usually makes buying tickets very easy and quick. Not this time, not in Denmark as it seems. Next card, 20 crowns more than on the way from Lund to Copenhagen. Does not matter, must go fast. Another onehundredthousand extraneous questions, the train is already waiting, the porter blows his whistle. I rip my ticket from the machine and badger towards the closest train door. "Out of order." Wtf?! Next door, I fight my way through 20 Indians (exchange students I suppose somewhere at the edge of my train stricken mind) and finally reach a seat.

"Seems to be the same with all train companies, no difference in other countries.", I think before I realise that a friendly gentleman in one of the suites is trying to talk to me. That is unexpected. Everybody in Sweden told me that you do not talk to people on the bus or the train. Never. As he shows me where to put my suitcase I do not bother and sit opposed to him. Still confused by Luxembourgians talking Danish and Danish talking French I thank him in always working English before I realise that I can do better. The Indians are discussing with the porter where to put there 45 suitcases and start to rearrange the whole train. I do not mind, they do not need help, so I concentrate on nothing in particular.

We cross the Öresund Bridge. Next station, Hyllie. Half of the women outside are already blonde (not kidding). The tannoy announcement is in Swedish. I even understand what the train conductor is trying to tell us. "Utgång till vänster." I am back in Sweden. Four hours after leaving home I am home again.

APH and Mahler

After the two accounts of the journey to Heidelberg this blog stays there for one more day. During my studies in Heidelberg I had the pleasure to play in the Akademische Philharmonie Heidelberg, a notedly excellent "laymen" orchestra. As on January 24 they play their semester concert I wrote this short article about the one piece they will play so those of you living in Heidelberg will consider attending the concert. :)

Yes, there really will be only one piece in the whole concert: Mahler's sixth symphony. If you look at the embedded video further down you will see why there is only this one piece: It lasts almost one and a half hours. So why should you listen to a single piece of music that lasts one and a half hours? In this case very simple: There is a hammer in the symphony! :D Yes, a hammer, a big, wooden hammer. The blows of fate. Or simply the horror of whoever sits in front of the percussionists ... Already without playing the symphony it grieves me that I cannot be there to see my colleague play the hammer. (I would not want to take it away from him - he was born to play the hammer. :D )

Ok, enough kidding. (Thoug the hammer IS real!) This symphony very impressively demonstrates what music can "do to you". Often Mahler's sixth symphony is called the "tragic" symphony although he himself did not use this title. Nevertheless, the title fits the music so if you let yourself get into the music you might well be taken away with it. Should you listen to the video further down or listen at least to the beginning and the end you will notice how long it takes the audience until they applaude. This might happen in the concert next week as well. The beginning already will show you what to expect from the symphony and give you an impression why it is called "the tragic". The end proves it again. Although it is sometimes problematic to take pieces out of a whole but only listening to the end (if you have only little time to spare, even for great music ;) ) from 1:19:33 on you will again get a good proof of the title, especially at 1:20:16 (needs a few seconds in advance) and from 1:21:04 to the end ...

Mahler - Symphony No. 6 a-moll conducted by Paavo Järvi, recorded in Kloster Eberbach. (What a coincidence, we played there with the Akademische Philharmonie not too long ago. ;) )

The account of a journey part II

Heidelberg Castle from the Kornmarkt.

The second day of my short trip to Heidelberg mostly consisted of sightseeing. Finally I got to know the tourist side of Heidelberg. The most obvious location to visit is probably the "fate stricken castle, hanging deep down into the dale, torn apart by the weathers" ... (free translation after "Heidelberg" by Hölderlin ;) ) Not without good reason it is the town's landmark. So I made my way up the over 300 steps (I lost count somewhere in between when considering if it would really be so nice to live in one of the villas populating the hill side. ;) )

After a few minutes I reached the top of the world (or at least of the town) and there I was. Back again on the first day of my studies. Actually, a few days before but back then climbing up to the castle was one of the first things I did as well. The view always pays off and if you would go up there every day.

Heidelberg Castle from the back.

As I had plenty of time I made my way to the back of the castle, further than ever before. If you ever come to Heidelberg or live there - go there! The less familiar back face is at least as impressive as the front face. After dreaming away in grey fog and slight rain I took the not-stair-way down and wandered aimlessly around in the city.
Before heading to the evening highlight(s) of the day I tried to find my bachelor thesis supervisor and the rest of the research group but at that particular time they seemed to have vanished somewhere in the secret passages of the KIP - the temple of physics.

The two temples of wisdom: Left - "My" department, Kirchhoff Institut für Physik. Right - University Library.

The adventures of a physicist not trusting in his own science

Yesterday I made my way back to Sweden. First a standard side blow towards Deutsche Bahn: For the 1000 km from home to Sweden it took me four hours and 15 minutes. That is less than it took me from Heidelberg to home with Deutsche Bahn ...

Now the journey. Generally everything went smoothely. The only negative thing was that I constantly doubted "my own" science - physics. Actually I did not doubt the science but I rather missed some statistical data. Yes, sitting in a plane something like that will probably only come from a physicist ... How much electromagnetic radiation does it take to confuse an airplane's control electronics? (Of course some workaholic want-to-be-top-managers had to keep working during approach for landing despite several requests to switch their tablet off.) What happens if a bird or hailstone crashes into the propellers of a propeller machine? (There were several machines with strangely large propellers instead of the "usual" jet engines at the airport and somehow I hoped that we would not fly with one of those.) Why does the airplane we are on make such noises? (I never heard something like this before: Howling, buzzing, vibrating and whistling in concert.) ...

So even as a physicist (or maybe even more?) a plane flight holds a whole bunch of mysteries to keep you busy ... It is about time that we invent teleportation.

Meet & Beat

What do drummers of a symphonic orchestra do when they get bored? They arrange a drums only concert where they can play something more difficult. Usually ridiculously difficult. Like the concert we went to yesterday organised by the local solo timpanist and some colleagues. After teething troubles (more people and less places available than we thought) we managed to get some of the last tickets and distributed ourselves to the last single seats that were not already occupied. Xylophones, Marimbaphones, Vibraphones, Percussion lorrywise were already set up. Soon the concert started.

Simply said: It was breathtaking. Technically challenging, perfectly played. A Swiss clockwork would have become green with envy. As drummers always tend to make fun of a lot of things (e.g. themselves ...) of course it was funny as well. Drumming with cooking spoons on tables, wearing self-made cooking heads, lamentations who forgot to clean the pots while playing included ...

Apart from the enthusiasm evolving when watching the colleagues play the comments in the breaks from the other visitors around were very interesting as well. "How can they play so perfectly?!" Ok that I do not know. Practice I would guess. Some years ... After all they are full time musicians. "Did you notice that they always wear a poker-face while playing?!" Yeah, I have been told that I do this as well. Most drummers do. :D Why? Well the answer to that is the next comment: "I would be hopelessly overstrained ..." The reason for drummer poker-faces (at least in this genre - in rock music "drummer face" is a well known term) is simple: It requires concentration. A lot of concentration. Just take a look at the two following clips. ;) (Both were in the concert, only different players of course.)

The first one is some minimal music by Steve Reich and shows how different rhythms work together (and one reason why you have to concentrate ...) - admittedly a little boring if you do not see it live but the first two or three minutes give already a fairly good insight. The second one is a Toccata for Vibra- and Marimbaphone. The catchy part starts at 3:13 ;)

Where it began - back to the roots

Eponym of the best pub in the world.

Just a few minutes ago I listened to a German song with a line - if you translate it - "Where it begins!". For me all the "madness" began after leaving a sheltered home after twelve and a half years of pleasant school and high-school time. With the possibility given by a prolonged Christmas break of course I just had to return to where it began and so I did at the beginning of the now already passed week. This is a short account of this travel.

The sky is grey, it looks like it is about to start raining. Feels more like my new home in Sweden than the sunniest city in Germany. And yet it feels right. Few hours to go till "we" meet in the city centre to haunt the pubs. "We" of course are all the physicist football players from "good old times" and my best friend where I stay for the two days in Heidelberg. It is even all right that he is not a physicist. ;) Using the time I inflate my air matress in my friend's kitchen/living room, throw the sleeping bag on top and we dive into profound conversations. Well, more or less ...

19:45 - we start to walk to University Square. Over the bridge, Bismarck Square, Main Street, ... this is just right, this is where it began, feels like coming home. University Square, we meet the others and start off to Hardrock Café Heidelberg. Beer for 1,- cocktails for 4,- - the usual start of a good evening. Only it is crowded as a rock concert. Surprise, surprise with beer prices like this. As soon as we captured one of the tables a waitress arrives and asks if she already should brink us a whole crate. We pretend good manners and refuse kindly, everybody ordering only one beer instead.

The reason is that afterwards we decide to go on in direction of - what else - BRASS MONKEY!!! :) The only interruption on our way there is a vicious call for food: "WEEEE EAT A SUB NOW!" Only problem: The store is closed. The sign says "open" but the door which even resists the food-craving attack of a hungry physicist proves the opposite.

Third wonder of the world in Heidelberg:
Brass Monkey Menu Tower.
The blurry image has nothing
to do with alcohol (except the menus ...).
It is just to keep people out of the picture in
case they want to stay anonymous.

So we continue our way slightly disillusioned about Subway as this was not the first time that this happened at this very same store ... However, the disillusion does not last for long as we soon enter Brass Monkey. Rustic interior, dim light, a counter filling half of the room, rows and rows of Whisky and other stuff, kicker, darts, ... - no doubt: still the best pub in the world - by far. We occupy the largest table and order food - a few "house burgers" and a "bacon burger". This is worth mentioning as after a few minutes one of the waitresses (still the same as always :) ) approaches our table to silently disclose that there is no bacon left. How is this even possible? There is always bacon! If nothing else is left then there is bacon! And beer of course ... We cannot believe it and after some time the incident shows to be a disaccord - the waitress returns and conveys the relieving message: Of course there is bacon left. And even better: Tonight is Bingo night!

So after one of the other waitresses manages to explain the rules and the layout of the unfamiliar looking Bingo sheets to nine stubborn physicists and a chemist without going completely mad we join the game. In the course of the evening we win free drinks for approximately everybody plus two bottles of sparkling wine. Phew ...

After hours and hours of burgers, Bingo, Guinness (Brass Monkey is an Irish Pub) and kicker this first wonderful evening in Heidelberg draws to an end ... almost. After leaving our second home in Heidelberg and diffusing into different cardinal directions two of us cross the Old Bridge to make our way home. Immediately at the northern point of the Old Bridge starts the "Snake Path" leading to the Philosopher's Path ... Easy, straight forward way along the Neckar on the left hand, steep, winding, hellish Snake Path (the name does not come without good reason) straight ahead. Well, the decision is easy so we make our way up the "Hallow's Mountain" towards Philosopher's Path. It is some climbing to do but even at night the view over Heidelberg is spectacular.

Snake Path in the middle of the night.

Further adventures we leave for other days to come and make it home afterwards. Only to find: The air mattress looses air ... dadum. At least the sleeping bag I borrowed from my brother is warm enough. Actually, the broken air mattress is not even annoying as I dream away in fond memories of rock hard physics exercises and panic slowly setting in a few days before exams ... Well, of course these are not really the fond memories but they are as well part of the madness that began in Heidelberg - the madness of becoming a physicist and most of all the madness of a new life. :) (Just to make sure: Madness is not a purely negatively connoted word. ;) )

Part two is to follow soon.