Home again, home again, diggidydiggidydiggidydig

I never did tell you all about the flight from Melbourne. It was ridiculous, in a completely boring way. From Melbourne to Hong Kong I was stuck in the last row in a very tiny little space. Also, screaming kid in next row over. Mer. But as the flight was in the darkness, I could cover my head with my scarft and stare out at the stars... and it was almost like a was flying through space-- I could see stars below me, beside me, and above me. Magicalness.

At Hong Kong airport they were playing French folk music over the system. I fell asleep behind a giant metal column, wrapped in a scarf and huddled around my luggage, and woke up 2 hours later to see that my plane was almost boarded. Perfect timing. More space on the flight over China, Mongolia, Siberia, Moscow, and into Finland. But I didn't have a window seat so I've still never seen those places. Oh yeah, and again a screaming kid. This time it went on for hours, though. Trust me-- I counted. Each. Torturous. Minute. The parents (who must belong to some other culture) were eating their food and chatting with the flight attendents and entirely oblivious, apparently, to the fact that their kid was out-screaming the composite screams of all eagles and veloceraptors and tea kettles that ever lived through-out all of history. Even bad 80s rock couldn't drown this kid out. AAAAAAACCCCHKKKKK.

There were beautiful pines all around the Helsinki airport. The airport was packed full of people, but weirdly quiet. And sloooow. Everyone walked as though deep in thought and wading through molasses. I have since learned that this is characterstic of Finns. They are a quiet, relaxed, slow people. Needless to say I stuck out like an American thumb on all three counts. While waiting to board this last, short flight to Amsterdam after nearly 24 hours on a plane, I was feeling dirty, tired and cranky, but also needing to prepare my talk for the conference. So add "stressed"to that list. I started frantically shuffling through stacks of all my notes, several letters from Heisenberg in German, manuscripts of essays, copies from rare texts, etc. etc. from my bag, trying to find the draft of my presentation. At some point I realized that a young, Indian guy sat down next to me and was obviously reading over my shoulder. Or over my side. Whatever. He asked me, "Oh you do quantum information?" No, not quite. Didn't matter, though. This guy wanted to talk to me about everything at all remotely related to quantum or physics or philosophy of physics. He was a really bright guy-- a grad student in the States, in fact, studying Learning Theory which is pretty mathematically intense. But he kept jumping arguments for one thing in, say, philosophy of mind, to ethics to metaphysics...all over the place. And really intense and tenacious and...well, he switched his seat so he'd be next to me on the flight and the entire two hours wouldn't let me rest. And he was intelligent enough that I couldn't give a quick Calvin-And-Hobbes type answer and blow him off. I had to answer him, and do it in earnest. Í was so extremely tired, though, and he was so eager to talk about these things with me that he was almost violently argumentative. I'm normally a civil person but I wanted to punch him in the face. He begged me to visit him in Amsterdam after the conference. But it's the end of the conference and instead I'm going to take a bubble bath. Here in my hotel. In Utrecht.

The moment I got my luggage, had said goodbye to Stubborn Instense Argumentative Indian Guy I Accidentally Picked Up in Helsinki Airport, I breathed a deeeep breath and hopped on a train to Utrecht. I do love this country. The train ride was peaceful and still. I avoided people.

The conference was immensely fun, of course in many geeky ways (I got to meet many new people, and also some people who's names I know quite well, and actually got to have serious and wonderful chats with them about some things I've been studying or will be studying). All in all, a fantastic, hilarious, generous group of people; I am glad that this comprises my academic family internationally. I feel extremely lucky.

But I also have fun in more traditional ways (read: eating and drinking merrily and well, all on the ND Dime. How I do love that fat, shiny, ND Dime. But lest you think ill of me, I think I can make a good case of earning it, boyhowdy). The talk with Guido was today, on the last day of the conference, and was well-received, which is always fun. I told a joke, too, which is fun. I feel upset with myself if I can't squeeze in a least on little clever thing or other. Like I didn't entertain well enough or something.

And there were of course other moments at the conference-- like the very first day, when a cat wandered in the room smack in the middle of an intense talk on Wigner and group-theory in quantum mechanics. It just walked right in front of the presenter, hopped up on a desk and curled up to listen to the talk with the rest of us. Though, Cat, I DID happen to notice that you nodded off during the last few minutes of the presentation. Tsk tsk, Cat. Tsk tsk. Other small things, too, like today I was walking downtown with one of the Dutch hosts of the conference, and a group of people came up and first addressed me in Dutch, but then turned to him and asked him the same thing in English. They assumed I was the Dutch one and he was English-speaking. Ok, maybe that's not funny. He seemed mildly insulted, though, and I thought *that* was funny.

Another great moment was when Kristian and I got into an energetic and (mostly) whimsical argument with Michel Janssen about the Everett interpretation of QM. This is, of course, the infamous Many Worlds idea-- where each moment an infinite number of worlds supposedly splits off from this one, each realizing one of the infinite possible state of affairs of the universe in that moment. Michel was arguing that if one were to take this seriously, than one could adopt a much more care-free attitude about life. Almost get hit by a car? Who cares! There are still an infinite number of YOU in other worlds, surely one of which will live. Why should THIS you be special? Complete bollucks if you ask me. But we had a hilarious talk about what the ethics of a world of Everettians would look like. Folks, it is one grim picture. I tried to persuade Michel on these grounds, but of course he merely laughs (well, he is not the sort of person who does anything *merely*, but you get my meaning)-- and insists that he is truly, to his core, convinced of this interpretation. Ah well. I have some time to bring him back to the light. *wiiink*

Tomorrow I have a very early flight, and 4 hours in Dublin. If it were a bit longer, I'd go for a bit of an amble around Dublin--it's a neat city, and it has been quite a while since I was there. But instead I will have to sit in the terminal and work on my Big Important Paper for the philosophy department. I've been dreading writing it, but I had a good chat with Michel about my topic over beer tonight (Michel is probably one of the philosophers of physics I most admire, and he is also good friends with my advisor), and he was very enthusiastic. I feel like I can write it now. Nay-- I'm EAGER to write it, wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles.

I am sad that things are coming to an end-- the conference, all the nervous energy about giving several talks and collaborating with different people, etc. But I can't believe what good people these people are, and how kind to a poor young kid who isn't even in the dissertation stage yet. Lots of warm-fuzzies. And the good thing is I will see many of them again and again. Several of them tried to convince me to do a post-doc at their institution...mostly German schools. And Guido just accepted a position in Scotland, and he's asked me to plan a visit for next May to work more on our book.

I feel sort of like a princess. I don't deserve any of the things that have come my way this summer--I was (and I saw this with almost complete seriousness) "born" into all this not by my own doing, but because my advisor is fantastic, and knows how to disciple someone. I guess you might say (to continue with the metaphor) I was baptized this summer. Sometimes by fire, sometimes by wine. I find now that I regret that I have to sleep, and do mundane things like pay bills and take out the trash and feed myself, because there is so much good and fascinating work yet to be done. Not a bad way to enter the dissertation stage, eh? Feeling so in love with what you studying and the things you get to think about? (n.b. to those of you who are already IN the dissertation phase, pretty please don't spoil my cute little naivity about it all. Let me have it for a few more months; I'll come round to the reality of it soon enough).

But I am, I must say, glad to be going home. They played Kayne West's song Homecoming at the pub we were in this evening, and I almost burst into tears--because it reminded me of NZ on that mountain, but also because it's a song about coming home to Chicago. Tres apropos. For one thing I'm looking forward to Pitchfork like a crazy person, and being in Chicago for the weekend. And I will be *very* glad to see friends and family again, and hear more details about all the things I've missed, and laugh with you all about the things that only good friends really laugh about. It is sad to miss out on any part of the lives of those who are important to you, but 'tis how it goes for all of us, I suppose. And it does look like my future will be international to some high degree, just given the nature of this small little field, so I'd better get used to it.

I must now say goodnight. And, I guess, goodbye, as I won't continue this blog once I get back to the States. Thank you all for your comments and readership, and I'm tickled that some of you want me to keep writing. But I find that after blogging during this summer, a few things strike me as undesireable features of continuing blogging once I'm home. Specifically, I realized that I have started thinking about moments as they happen in terms of how I will *later* tell the story, or write about them. Maybe this is what happens for people who write memoirs or daily blogs or what have you. But I don't like it as an every-day prospect. Because, I am already a person with too much internal dialogue, and this only stresses my tendency to analyze each moment as it comes instead of just being present IN it. It is much like going to a beautiful place and snapping pictures from behind your camera lens the entire time. Your gain of having that pictoral memory is not, in my opinion, out-weighed by the gain of actually being fully in that moment. Of course, this is not an all-out, all-time conviction. Of course pictures are fantastic. And analysis and reflection are necessary. But a daily, written thing like this forced me to "go meta" far too often. And, after a while, it's all about me. And I love me and all, but geez. Boooooring. And who am I to write all this? It is as though I'm assuming people will have some need to hear every little detail of my life once I'm not doing anything adventurous any more. I'm not THAT kind of a princess. Maybe me in another Everttian world is-- I'll leave the blogging to her.

Thus, this is it. Love to you all, and thank you for making me feel somehow connected to the other side of the world on this little tour 2008. I'll be seeing you soon.

Elise