Cora vs radioactive blueberries

Many (if not all) of you know that I’m half polish. And that I thus have a polish grandmother. And I think a few of you are quite familiar with some of the stories about her. Like, her buying 4,5 kg of polish ham when I ask for a little sample to take home. (Yeah guys, this is not a joke. She did buy this much. She also bought 2kg of cheese.) In her mind, it’s still WW2 and we are all starving. So she needs to help us. We regularly have to throw away kilos and kilos of polish food that she sends over. It simply doesn’t fit into our freezer. And also, it just tastes horrible. But why am I talking about this? Very simply because recently, quite a hilarious episode has happened thanks to one of my grandma’s food-deliveries. This time it was polish blueberries. You must know, my relatives own this house in the woods near Warsaw. And in those woods grow an awful lot of blueberries. And I mean tons. My grandma goes there for weekends to pick blueberries. Now I’m not talking about a basket or two. More like 10 kilos or 20. Yep. That’s correct. She gets up and picks blueberries until it gets too dark to see. Then she goes to bed and repeats the procedure on the next day. And then she sends the blueberries to us. I really like that because they taste really good, much better than the greasy meat or weird cabbage. So that’s good. But then, my parents started to get worried. Now, two things you need to know is that during Tchernobyl, my dad went around Switzerland to measure the radioactivity of cheese and stuff. And I think he never really got over it. The second thing is that the older they get, the more obsessed they are with living as long as possible and as healthily as possible. So, we have no more milk (coz that’s bad for you). Almost no more cheese (equally bad), they take vitamin D and make weird health shakes for every meal. So what did my parents do with the blueberries? They send the polish blueberries to the cantonal office for radioactive research or sth and let them measure how “hot” they are! Because, maybe they were contaminated during Tchernobyl and we should not eat them!!! Luckily for us, the results were ok, the blueberries contain 10x less radioactivity than the accepted level so we can eat them. Now imagine if they had containted more…. Our freezer was full of them. We’d basically have a radioactive freezer. Scary stuff.  And I bet the invoice will be just as scary. I mean- such measurements are not cheap I’m sure. I can’t wait to see what they are gonna come up with next…Maybe they should make them check my polish relatives…. That could explain a thing or two…

Cora vs. MCB54

As most of my readers are actually students I thought you guys might be interested in hearing about my experience of a Harvard lecture. I can assure you it was rather different than Cambridge.

So classes here don’t have names. They have abbreviations. This particular class was called: MCB54. Yeah. I don’t even know what MCB stands for. Maybe molecular and cellular biology. Or maybe mediocre cellular biology. Or music cellular biology. Yeah you’ll hear about the music in a second. So we walk to this place it’s quite far away, sort of like Downing site- Murray Edwards. Yeah I know. Far.  So we get there and omg the lecture theatre. Like. WTH. So it looks like a cinema. There are patterns on the wall that ressemble the Pathé Küchlin in Basel (sorry non-Baslers) (you know, these „feet“) the light is dim and kinda indirect and the seats. The seats people are the most comfortable i’ve ever sat on during a lecture. In Cambridge we are humble. We are poor. We sit on wood. These people, they sit on velvet. Actually they don’t but you get the general idea. My a** has never felt so great during a lecture. Also the combined effects of comfort and dim lighting just really make you want to go back to sleep. (In fact some people put their feet on the seat in front of them and attempt that, so it seems. Or maybe they are just very disrespectful.) And now we come to the music. So when I turn my attention to the auditory environment of the room i notice music. And then I see it: There are music videos playing on the screen. Like MTV. THESE PEOPLE ARE WATCHING MTV BEFORE THE LECTURE. It’s a crazy world. So yeah. Then the lecture started and it was ok. I mean, it was supposed to be about chemotaxis and he mentioned a few neat experiments and some very detailed signalling cascades but sadly he did not actually explain how chemotaxis works so yeah. Great. But now comes the fun part: 1 2 oder 3. For non-german speakers: who wants to be a millionaire. Or simply: the quiz. So the lecturer played some random video and suddenly everyone starts taking out these remote controls with loads of buttons. And then it comes: a lecture slide with a question. And there are four possible answers. And everyone has to press the button with the letter he thinks belongs to the right answer. It’s highly amusing. And really reminds me of the „Publikumsjoker“ in Wer wird Millionär. And then time’s up and the screen now shows the results. 55% have chosen C which is the right answer. And i cannot believe it. (not the fact that most people were right, I mean, it’s Harvard, they are kinda smart kids) Like, SERIOUSLY? A QUIZ? With REMOTE CONTROLS. Luis explains to me that everyone has a personal remote which is regiestered and certain classes require this and that it doesn’t even matter whether you get the question right or wrong. All that matters is answering it. It counts towards your degree. Like 1% or so. I can immediately see a black market of non-lecture-goers and lecture-goers arising: People could pay others to take their remote to the class so they don’t have to go themselves. Apparently you get into trouble if you’re exposed. Anyway. After the discussion of the results the class is over and we get up from those comfortable seats and make our wayto the next class. I can say, my a** has definitely never felt so nice upon leaving a lecture.

Cora vs Liquids and Egg Whites

Today we shall talk about something that shocked me at the supermarket. But it needs an introduction. And the introduction contains another thing that shocks me. Or should I say disgusts me? I’m talking about a liquid called Bud Light. I refuse to call it a drink. It is NOT a drink. But anyway. So a couple of days ago we went over to Luis’ friends’ room to hang out and have beer. So I was happy becaue I love spending time with people and I love beer very much. It sounded like a great evening. So we go there. We hang out. And it’s very good company indeed. But we don’t drink beer. We drink Bud Light. I don’t even wanna know how much % it has. Probably like 0.5. And it tastes dreadful. Or should I say it tastes of barely nothing? And the tiny hint of taste is disgusting? Essentially I could go on forever about how terrible this stuff is. Students of the US, i ask you: WHY? Seriously. WHY?!? Please explain to me. My taste buds are crying. They need an explanation. And an apology. So after this traumatizing experience I decided that it was time to buy something real for these poor souls. I’m 21 now right? Hehehe. Oh yes baby. So a couple of days later, on a pleasant evening while the sun was setting and illuminating the bridge near Dunster house in the way that makes me cry because of the good memories linked to it Luis and me made our way to Trader Joe’s. I like the place. They have a very lovely selection of cheeses. (they have apricot cheese. Oh yes.) The apples are abnormally shiny and the alcohol department is rather pleasing, yes indeed, the selection of beers (Real beers!) is truly exciting. I spotted Erdinger Weissbier and my day was made. Ahhhhhh drink orgasmmmm. So yeah we got that. But there was something else. Near the milk/butter/etc = dairy I had to find one of these most dreadful products that the Americans have managed to put on the market for my poor eyes to see (and to suffer for eternal time). A „tetra pack“ (is that an english expression? I mean those drink „boxes“ that can be recycled. I like recycling btw) full of: EGG WHITES. I couldn’t believe my eyes. ( And I am revising vision this week so like, I know how eyes work. And when this sight hit my retina and it reached my Area 17 I was just shocked.) So these American people separate eggs, put the whites in cartons and sell that. And people buy it. And Cora gets angry. I feel like it’s a rape of the idea of an egg. It’s a rape of eggdom. It’s unbearable. I put the thing back and left. Bewildered. And my soul couldn’t understand. And I felt sorry for all the hens who had carefully placed yolks in their eggs only to see them being removed by violent US citizens. Argh it’s a sad world. So for a couple of days I walked around in black, wondering why such things were happening. (I wasn’t actually.) Until I met Kevin. He’s a firefighter. He likes taking pictures. I met him while I was sitting at that same bridge, illuminated by that same light, reflecting about life. And about eggs. But mostly about life actually. He just sat next to me with his camera and started talking to me. It was an interesting conversation. As a firefigher he has delivered three babies in weird situations which earned thim three „storch-shaped-medals“. Kinda impressive. And he once got trapped in a fire. That’s when he decided to turn his life around. Start doing meditation, live in the moment, stuff like that. He seemed like a cool guy so I told him about my egg problem. And he enlightened me. Essentially in the past there had been a discussion about how egg yolks are unhealthy coz of cholesterol. So people stopped eating eggs. And sales went down. And companies didnt like that. So that’s why they invented this product. So people could buy only the „healthy“ part of the egg. I was definitely enlightened. And amazed by how crazy one country can get. I sat there with Kevin for like 1h, talking about delivering babies, talking pictures (he has a nice Canon) and about life in general. It made me happy. Eventually it got dark, my bridge started to disappear into the darkness of that cold spring night and it was time for me to go back to Dunster. So I ran back, feeling very happy. Happy about this random enocounter, about being enlighted and about the Erdinger Weissbier which was waiting for me in the fridge. Cheers.

Cora vs. St Patrick's Day

Ok. So originally I had planned to abandon this blog after summer 2012 but what can I say? It’s not happening. Cora is back in Boston and the fight against all the strange things that make up this strange place called USA continues. Cora vs America, take two. And this time I arrived prepared: I have a cellfone. I still have the plates and glasses and pans I bought last summer. I know how to use the ATM. It’s winter, so no fight against the air conditioning (but against the heating, as you will discover soon.) Let the fight begin. Round one: Cora vs St Patrick’s Day Parade.

So apparently Boston is a massive irish colony. And so St Patrick’s day is supposed to be pretty big. (Btw does ANYONE know what this Patrick guy actually did? Like? Drink loads of guiness or what? Cause all I associate with him is... green. And beer. Please enlighten me.) So anyway we went on google and it said there was gonna be a massive parade with some 1 million people watching and I thought „oh cool loads of irish people dancing in the streets in green and white and orange and irish music and i dont know something like Fasnacht or something?“ well. It was not the case people. But let me tell you the whole story. So we took the T to the southern part of Boston where all the irish folks are supposed to dwell. And indeed there were masses of people dressed in at least 50 shades of green. And some were quite drunk. And many were quite hyper. And I thought „oh this is gonna be nice“. And i was freezing cause as you know my coat is with an evil thief of Cambridge, UK. So we tried to make our way through the masses, trying to find a place where we could see the parade. People were pushing, it was rather scary. I’m just always scared people will crush me to death. But luckily that did not happen. So then we waited for some 30min and then things started to move. A few policement in neon protective clothing walked down the street. Fair enough, police is leading the way. Then came some policemen on motorcycles. Ok. It’s america, they want security. Fair enough. Then policecars. Ok. But surely that’s enough now? Let the parade start. But no guys. NO NONO. We need more. Policemen on HORSES. A policeBOAT (pulled by a truck) a SWAT car. A Special Operations Car. A TANK (haha no i’m joking there was no tank. But everything else is the truth) but it’s not all. Then there was a break. Then more police. And then some marching bands. And Piping bands. And a blood donation car. (WTF?) and loads of firefighters. And the firefighter veterans. And a candidate to the senate. And more firefighters. And I ask myself: Where are the irish? And then they came. One or two trucks with some irish people . Someone dressed up as ST Patrick, others just in green. But nothing extraordinary. And after a few groups it was over. And along comes the army. First the marines. Then the air force. And people around me are shouting „USA! USA! USA!“ And I want to vomit. And then KIDS. Kids in univorms and with fake  guns. And i want to vomit some more. And cry. Like, seriously? And then the US army police. And then some army guys in WWII costumes. And in civil war costumes. And some more kids in uniforms. And in between, a rare irishman. But very rare indeed. But I still had hope. Surely after all this military there would come the time of the irish. Well. WEIT GEFEHLT. (sorry but nothing matches better here than this german expression) because next came: THE VETERANS. And i wanted to shoot myself. So here we go: Marine veterans, air force veterans, piping veterans, veteraning veterans.... it just wouldn’t end! And Cora starts to get very very angry. And it was so cold. (My foot actually turned black, it was a rather scary event). And then... when you think it’s all over comes: Star Wars. Yeah, a truck with Darth Vader, loads of Clones and Jedis. Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love star wars, like, I LOVE it. But this was supposed to be an irish parade guys.. i don’t remember Darth Vader being irish. honestly.

So then I decided it was time to leave. So feeling rather disappointed we left south boston and it’s failed parade and went to drown our sorrows with domino’s pizza. Yeah. Food in America. AMAZING STUFF.