I heard an interesting story. These last couple months, nearly all my interesting stories have come from Heiko Schlueter, the German-descended, American-sounding, cell phone-loating artist extraordinaire, who calls St. Croix home, and who probably wouldn't like all the hyphenates I just applied to him. Heiko loves to tell his stories, and I love to listen. This one is about income tax. To forewarn you Dear Reader, I haven't substantiated any of it.
Income tax originated in taxes placed on boats. Whoever first thought to tax any and all manner of cargo vessels transporting various goods to and from here and there laid the foundation for a rather strange idea. Sometime ago, 'so-n-so' thought: How can I justify taxing the good people of this land? Well, ships are taxed as they leave their docks in port. Aha! I have a brilliant analogy! As a ship rides out of its 'berth' into the wide water, so are all human beings 'birthed' from their mother's wombs. Therefore, we shall now say because you are like a little ship, coming into the world, you shall be taxed on all your earnings from now until you die! What solid logic!
And so, we have income tax.
Nice story.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Bring Out the City Bikes, Five Days of Påske, The Life of a Scientist
Godt Påske everyone! It's a sunny and clear Easter afternoon from København!
So much time has passed since I last wrote and I have forgotten many things I wanted to write. Research has ramped up to a new level and I'm finding myself less motivated to pause and blog. The mood just hasn't taken me recently.
Spring has come full force, evidenced most recently to me by the appearance of the København Cykler (city bikes) for tourists and citizens alike. These simple sturdy bicycles come out in April and disappear around October. It's a cool system where you slide a 20 kr coin into a box on the handlebars and a chain at the other end of the box slides out. The rider takes the bike around town and, when finished, finds an empty chain slot and gets the coin back. Free city bikes! I've been working with students on campus back home to get a similar program going, but interest really hasn't built for it yet. I think it has to do mostly with the hilly Golden landscape and the preference for cars over all other transportation modes. Perhaps someday bikes will carry more cultural weight in America...
On a related note, I was riding my bicycle to the train station about a week ago and was handed free food by a smiling woman standing on a street corner. She and several dozen others were passing out brown bags containing rolls to all the pedaling folk as they passed by on the bike lanes. And so I was introduced to "Vi cykler arbejde!" meaning "We bike to work." It's a month-long campaign and I'm hoping to snag some more free baked goods this week!
Denmark today is a dominantly secular nation. There are many churches around town, mostly Lutheran, though I've found several Roman Catholic and even a Baptist one. A Mormon temple sits three blocks from my apartment. Yet, congregations are small and some of the churches hold services once a month. Even with the relatively large population of immigrants from Iran, Iraq, Syria, and other Middle Eastern nations, I have yet to see any mosques or even a hint of Islamic worship places. In fact, other than all the Arabic (I think) script I see in my neighborhood, on grocery stores, restaurants, and barber shops, the only advertisement for Muslims I've glimpsed was a small store selling "Islamic dress," printed in English. Going back to the Christian influence, something of a juxtaposition with the agnostic majority are all the Danish flags being flown half-mast for Good Friday. I've only ever seen that ritual connected with memorializing the deaths of politicians, military casualties, and other famous people. Jesus Christ, VIP in Denmark, for one day only.
While actually practicing religion seems to be rare, religious holidays are taken to the max. Easter, for instance, is five days long. Starting (Maundy) Thursday, many Danes don't go back to work till the follwing Tuesday. There's Good Friday, Holy Saturday, Easter Sunday, and Second Easter (Monday). Most shops shut down, though some of the grocery stores, which are regularly closed on Sundays, are open, so there appears to be no uniformity to the holiday-taking. At Risø, most of the technicians left Friday, April 3 and won't be back till Tuesday (4/14). That's all well and good for them, but the safety rules at the lab prevent anyone from working with the furnaces, presses, polishers, and other various (and expensive) equipment unless they're in there. Here, like mismatched gears, the '9-3 regular-drop-it-all-and-scoot' work day (technicians) grinds up against the '?-? gotta-get-this-done-by-Monday-why-does-this-machine-hate-me' schedule (scientists). Such fun! Jesting aside, I really am enjoying the hustle and constantly shifting timelines that go with real-world R&D. I think I'm going to like doing this for a living.
So much time has passed since I last wrote and I have forgotten many things I wanted to write. Research has ramped up to a new level and I'm finding myself less motivated to pause and blog. The mood just hasn't taken me recently.
Spring has come full force, evidenced most recently to me by the appearance of the København Cykler (city bikes) for tourists and citizens alike. These simple sturdy bicycles come out in April and disappear around October. It's a cool system where you slide a 20 kr coin into a box on the handlebars and a chain at the other end of the box slides out. The rider takes the bike around town and, when finished, finds an empty chain slot and gets the coin back. Free city bikes! I've been working with students on campus back home to get a similar program going, but interest really hasn't built for it yet. I think it has to do mostly with the hilly Golden landscape and the preference for cars over all other transportation modes. Perhaps someday bikes will carry more cultural weight in America...
On a related note, I was riding my bicycle to the train station about a week ago and was handed free food by a smiling woman standing on a street corner. She and several dozen others were passing out brown bags containing rolls to all the pedaling folk as they passed by on the bike lanes. And so I was introduced to "Vi cykler arbejde!" meaning "We bike to work." It's a month-long campaign and I'm hoping to snag some more free baked goods this week!
Denmark today is a dominantly secular nation. There are many churches around town, mostly Lutheran, though I've found several Roman Catholic and even a Baptist one. A Mormon temple sits three blocks from my apartment. Yet, congregations are small and some of the churches hold services once a month. Even with the relatively large population of immigrants from Iran, Iraq, Syria, and other Middle Eastern nations, I have yet to see any mosques or even a hint of Islamic worship places. In fact, other than all the Arabic (I think) script I see in my neighborhood, on grocery stores, restaurants, and barber shops, the only advertisement for Muslims I've glimpsed was a small store selling "Islamic dress," printed in English. Going back to the Christian influence, something of a juxtaposition with the agnostic majority are all the Danish flags being flown half-mast for Good Friday. I've only ever seen that ritual connected with memorializing the deaths of politicians, military casualties, and other famous people. Jesus Christ, VIP in Denmark, for one day only.
While actually practicing religion seems to be rare, religious holidays are taken to the max. Easter, for instance, is five days long. Starting (Maundy) Thursday, many Danes don't go back to work till the follwing Tuesday. There's Good Friday, Holy Saturday, Easter Sunday, and Second Easter (Monday). Most shops shut down, though some of the grocery stores, which are regularly closed on Sundays, are open, so there appears to be no uniformity to the holiday-taking. At Risø, most of the technicians left Friday, April 3 and won't be back till Tuesday (4/14). That's all well and good for them, but the safety rules at the lab prevent anyone from working with the furnaces, presses, polishers, and other various (and expensive) equipment unless they're in there. Here, like mismatched gears, the '9-3 regular-drop-it-all-and-scoot' work day (technicians) grinds up against the '?-? gotta-get-this-done-by-Monday-why-does-this-machine-hate-me' schedule (scientists). Such fun! Jesting aside, I really am enjoying the hustle and constantly shifting timelines that go with real-world R&D. I think I'm going to like doing this for a living.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Accepted!
Today I received a metaphorical kick in the rear: acceptance to speak at the 17th bi-annual Conference on Solid State Ionics! This round it's in Toronto, June 28 - July 3. The way it fits in my overall overseas overture, I'll most likely be heading straight to Denver from Canada afterward, since my Danish visa expires July 15. Plus, I'd soon avoid having to de-lag three times in two weeks, and go through that ritual only once.
Now, I'm accountable not only to my bosses in Denmark and Colorado to produce results, but also a slew of international conferencing scientists, coming together for a week of swapping ideas, innovations, and business cards.
I've had some difficulties in research these past few weeks, but this announcement has throttled me forward a few gears and knocked me out of the delay-ridden doldrums. Yay!
Speaking at the conference will be my first big event as a graduate student, and I'm excited to put some of the hard work done here at Risø on display.
Ts'all for now, time to work!
Now, I'm accountable not only to my bosses in Denmark and Colorado to produce results, but also a slew of international conferencing scientists, coming together for a week of swapping ideas, innovations, and business cards.
I've had some difficulties in research these past few weeks, but this announcement has throttled me forward a few gears and knocked me out of the delay-ridden doldrums. Yay!
Speaking at the conference will be my first big event as a graduate student, and I'm excited to put some of the hard work done here at Risø on display.
Ts'all for now, time to work!
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Breeze With A Bite
I was blown off my bike today. The sun was out, the clouds were sparse, the city was bustling, and the wind was on a rampage.
During my ten minute ride to see a friend about going to Iceland, I was caught on my left side by a particularly harsh gust that obliterated my balance. My tires hit the curb at a moderate speed, maybe 10 mph, and I tried to stop myself, but to no avail. Next I was spinning on the sidewalk and a Danish man had stopped his bicycle to ask of my health. I'm really glad it wasn't rush hour and I wasn't on Nørrebrogade, cuz my tumble would have caused a pile-up worthy of the Tour de France. Biking in København is crazy in the heat of commute time! Everyone (mostly) has bells, and almost no one (including I) uses them.
As for the wind again, København just became the "Windy City." It hasn't yet been as strong as it was today, but it's never really gone either, no matter what time of day or what weather. Even out in Roskilde, far from the sea coast, I've been blown back down hills while riding to work. So, more appropriately, Denmark is the "Windy Country." Given my limited world travel experience, this title is probably prematurely assigned, but after today, I can credit this nation's weather with being the first climate to literally knock me down. Roadrash notwithstanding, the whole experience was exhilerating.
During my ten minute ride to see a friend about going to Iceland, I was caught on my left side by a particularly harsh gust that obliterated my balance. My tires hit the curb at a moderate speed, maybe 10 mph, and I tried to stop myself, but to no avail. Next I was spinning on the sidewalk and a Danish man had stopped his bicycle to ask of my health. I'm really glad it wasn't rush hour and I wasn't on Nørrebrogade, cuz my tumble would have caused a pile-up worthy of the Tour de France. Biking in København is crazy in the heat of commute time! Everyone (mostly) has bells, and almost no one (including I) uses them.
As for the wind again, København just became the "Windy City." It hasn't yet been as strong as it was today, but it's never really gone either, no matter what time of day or what weather. Even out in Roskilde, far from the sea coast, I've been blown back down hills while riding to work. So, more appropriately, Denmark is the "Windy Country." Given my limited world travel experience, this title is probably prematurely assigned, but after today, I can credit this nation's weather with being the first climate to literally knock me down. Roadrash notwithstanding, the whole experience was exhilerating.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Fredag Bar, Enigmatic Heiko, Excess Modifiers, Nørrebronx
I've been feeling uninspired to write lately. Thankfully, the drought is over! There have been some upslopes on the adventure pulse this month, and today, because I've found blogging much more interesting than studying the defect theory of ceramics, I'm finally sitting down to relate them to you, Dear Reader.
Fredag bar every week at Risø continues to provide chances for bettering my pool skills, spectating the intense fooseball tourneys, linguistic smörgåsbord (a Swedish word actually), and enjoying beer cheaper than Coors Light (à la bartender) and many times tastier. This past Friday, a Swedish woman living in Göteborg (midwestern coastal city) scolded us for complaining of the sleety high-wind weather of Thursday eve. I rode my bike home in that storm for 5 minutes, got thoroughly drenched (with the help of a city bus spraying gutter water like a tidal wave) and cold, despite my warm bundling, so I was a bit ruffled by her admonition. But, when she told us that in Göteborg wintertime, temperatures rarely get over -15 ˚C and the sun is up from 9-2, we all shut up. Which was good, because we were in the middle of a heated pool game. It was an international match--U.S.-China v. Sweden-India. Whenever Corin (the Swede) missed a shot, her "Queen's English" turned into a rapid-fire stream of Swedish curses. When I sank the 8 ball for the win, she was especially vocal. No hard feelings at Fredag bar though; we're all mild-mannered scientists.
I made some friends at the International Church of Copenhagen a couple weeks ago. We're mostly foreign students studying abroad and fall into the 20 and 30-somethings category. I find a lot of common ground to revel on with them, and am excited to see what adventures come our way this spring. Tentatively, I'll be going to Iceland in June with some of them, and maybe down to Berlin in the nearer future.
To make sure I get work done this afternoon, I've decided to split up the description of this group of friends I've merged into, and present one or two of these wonderful people here each post. Today, I give you Heiko Schluter. His origins are still a mystery to me because whenever we talk, I get so wrapped up in the deep and interesting dialogue that I've not yet fount out most of the basics. His surname sounds German to me, though I'm not positive. His accent is so similar to mine that he could be a midwest U.S. suburbanite. All this mystery I plan to solve at some point. Facebook stalking has proved inconclusive, as he's more ascetic with his profile than I am.
His stories have been rivetting. Heiko's life (the slices of which I've heard so far) has been beyond cool. He lived on St. Croix for 10 years, where his brother had moved after hurricane Hugo, to help residents rebuild. There, the Schluter I know honed his painting abilities (his job) and designed boats (his hobby). He also dabbled in biodiesel production out of his home. We chatted about eneryg policy, history, literature, religion, science, flying fish, building catamarans, rescuing buildings from monsoons, and the theories of Sanskrit scholars. His painting is very impressive. He works mostly in acrylic from what I've seen on Facebook (an album of an exhibition featuring his work) and fills his creations with resonating vibrancy, exacting perspective, and meticulous detail.
Heiko Schluter. Next post, David Tiprigan.
-----
My København neighborhood, Nørrebro, has been infamous for gang presence in recent years. Hells Angels biker gangs (no joke) have been squaring off with the ambiguous 'Immigrant' gangs for drug trafficking power, or so the natives say. While it's true there is a high concentration of non-Danes living in Nørrebro, dominantly Arabs as I've learned (evidenced by the 'Starbucks-like' density of kebab houses and birka-clad women), I have yet to witness any hostilities beyond a few heckling youths in my end of town. Actually, I am at the 'end' of it. Across the street, not 30 meters from my window, is the neighborhood of Frederiksberg, a decidedly wealthier part of the city containing no ruckus and abundant in pram-pushing new mothers.
Nevertheless, Nørrebro's reputation for being the 'seedy side' of København has been the inspiration for recent comical commentary by my lighthearted Spanish roommate, Fernando. "We are living in 'Nørrebronx,' my friend."
The humor is dark in light of the recent shootings and civilian casualties in parts of København. Nørrebro was one of the scenes, but no where near me, or I'm just completely oblivious. I've seen a few cop cars, ambulances, and news stations vans in hot pursuit, but I've heard no gunshots and seen no arrests. I think it's such a big issue because these violent events haven't happened hardly at all here. Fernando and Kristian have told me about the history of immigration tension in København and Denmark at-large. Many political refugees from Saudi Arabia, Iran, and other Middle Eastern nations were taken in by the Danish government decades ago. Since then, the numbers have increased, and two generations have grown up Danish citizens. Minimal integration (fault of both the immigrants and the government) has contributed to cultural stress and to a degree of societal polarization. And, like any other unmixing mix of vastly different peoples, violence is the speediest and loudest voice of the strain.
In what I assume to be reaction to the killings and injuries, I rode past a anti-violence protest march today. The hundred and fifty or so members, shepherded by several motorcycle-mounted police officers, slowly made their way across the Nørrebrogade bridge as I biked home into southeast Nørrebro. The banner at the front displayed a gun painted over by the universal 'No!' symbol of a circle slashed by a line. Black behind red. The words were simple and big: Våben Nej Tak (Violence No Thanks). At the flank, a couple teenagers unfurled a second banner saying: Liv Ja Tak (Life Yes Thanks). Concisely profound.
Fredag bar every week at Risø continues to provide chances for bettering my pool skills, spectating the intense fooseball tourneys, linguistic smörgåsbord (a Swedish word actually), and enjoying beer cheaper than Coors Light (à la bartender) and many times tastier. This past Friday, a Swedish woman living in Göteborg (midwestern coastal city) scolded us for complaining of the sleety high-wind weather of Thursday eve. I rode my bike home in that storm for 5 minutes, got thoroughly drenched (with the help of a city bus spraying gutter water like a tidal wave) and cold, despite my warm bundling, so I was a bit ruffled by her admonition. But, when she told us that in Göteborg wintertime, temperatures rarely get over -15 ˚C and the sun is up from 9-2, we all shut up. Which was good, because we were in the middle of a heated pool game. It was an international match--U.S.-China v. Sweden-India. Whenever Corin (the Swede) missed a shot, her "Queen's English" turned into a rapid-fire stream of Swedish curses. When I sank the 8 ball for the win, she was especially vocal. No hard feelings at Fredag bar though; we're all mild-mannered scientists.
I made some friends at the International Church of Copenhagen a couple weeks ago. We're mostly foreign students studying abroad and fall into the 20 and 30-somethings category. I find a lot of common ground to revel on with them, and am excited to see what adventures come our way this spring. Tentatively, I'll be going to Iceland in June with some of them, and maybe down to Berlin in the nearer future.
To make sure I get work done this afternoon, I've decided to split up the description of this group of friends I've merged into, and present one or two of these wonderful people here each post. Today, I give you Heiko Schluter. His origins are still a mystery to me because whenever we talk, I get so wrapped up in the deep and interesting dialogue that I've not yet fount out most of the basics. His surname sounds German to me, though I'm not positive. His accent is so similar to mine that he could be a midwest U.S. suburbanite. All this mystery I plan to solve at some point. Facebook stalking has proved inconclusive, as he's more ascetic with his profile than I am.
His stories have been rivetting. Heiko's life (the slices of which I've heard so far) has been beyond cool. He lived on St. Croix for 10 years, where his brother had moved after hurricane Hugo, to help residents rebuild. There, the Schluter I know honed his painting abilities (his job) and designed boats (his hobby). He also dabbled in biodiesel production out of his home. We chatted about eneryg policy, history, literature, religion, science, flying fish, building catamarans, rescuing buildings from monsoons, and the theories of Sanskrit scholars. His painting is very impressive. He works mostly in acrylic from what I've seen on Facebook (an album of an exhibition featuring his work) and fills his creations with resonating vibrancy, exacting perspective, and meticulous detail.
Heiko Schluter. Next post, David Tiprigan.
-----
Nevertheless, Nørrebro's reputation for being the 'seedy side' of København has been the inspiration for recent comical commentary by my lighthearted Spanish roommate, Fernando. "We are living in 'Nørrebronx,' my friend."
The humor is dark in light of the recent shootings and civilian casualties in parts of København. Nørrebro was one of the scenes, but no where near me, or I'm just completely oblivious. I've seen a few cop cars, ambulances, and news stations vans in hot pursuit, but I've heard no gunshots and seen no arrests. I think it's such a big issue because these violent events haven't happened hardly at all here. Fernando and Kristian have told me about the history of immigration tension in København and Denmark at-large. Many political refugees from Saudi Arabia, Iran, and other Middle Eastern nations were taken in by the Danish government decades ago. Since then, the numbers have increased, and two generations have grown up Danish citizens. Minimal integration (fault of both the immigrants and the government) has contributed to cultural stress and to a degree of societal polarization. And, like any other unmixing mix of vastly different peoples, violence is the speediest and loudest voice of the strain.
In what I assume to be reaction to the killings and injuries, I rode past a anti-violence protest march today. The hundred and fifty or so members, shepherded by several motorcycle-mounted police officers, slowly made their way across the Nørrebrogade bridge as I biked home into southeast Nørrebro. The banner at the front displayed a gun painted over by the universal 'No!' symbol of a circle slashed by a line. Black behind red. The words were simple and big: Våben Nej Tak (Violence No Thanks). At the flank, a couple teenagers unfurled a second banner saying: Liv Ja Tak (Life Yes Thanks). Concisely profound.
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