New year, new beginnings

Ending this year on an optimistic note.... It's been a tough year for many people. Let's hope that the new year brings good health and many blessings to all those who are dealing with illness especially. 

The sidewalks of Oslo in winter

I wonder each year, once winter comes, how it is possible that the city of Oslo appears not to care too much about its inhabitants slipping and sliding on the ice that coats most of the sidewalks. I've written about this before, but this year the problem seems even more pronounced. We have had a few snowfalls followed by sub-freezing temperatures, and that's usually fine. The problem arises when the snow melts over a period of a few days of above-freezing temperatures. The snow turns to slush, and then to ice once the temperatures drop again. Apartment and house owners do throw down some gravel, but it's not enough. The sidewalks and even the side roads are slippery as hell. I think the lack of consideration for others is appalling. 

Our co-op maintenance fees are increasing considerably as of January. My question is what are we getting for this increase. Will the board approve more gravel and salt for the sidewalks? Will they hire a person or firm to shovel snow on a continual basis? Will they care about the elderly that live here? Do they care about them at present? It doesn't seem like it. They do hire a plow to clear the road in the inner courtyard so that emergency vehicles can navigate them. But if you want to leave your apartment to walk the short distance to the garbage house, you risk slipping and falling and breaking a bone or two. It's rather pathetic, especially as we approach 2023. Interestingly, the few co-op apartment dwellers who have complained on our co-op's Facebook page are young people, not elderly. The latter have probably given up in frustration; they know that they are not and never will be a priority in this city.

The city cares mostly about keeping the bicycle lanes free of snow; they plow them and scatter salt so that the snow melts and stays melted. All this for the miniscule percentage of city dwellers that actually bikes during the winter. The city should be plowing and salting the sidewalks as well. But of course we live in a city that prioritizes bicyclists, not pedestrians. There are far more of the latter, so it makes no sense. But this is the philosophy that the Green Party politicians are obsessed with; everyone should bike, year-round. It doesn't matter that it's bitter cold; you should just suck it up. If you need studded tires for your bicycle, their purchase is subsidized by the city (Støtte til sykkelpiggdekk (klimatilskudd.no). Like so many others, I'm weary of the Green Party pushing their agenda down our throats. Biking in the wintertime is a high-risk sport. I've been witness to near-fatal accidents with bicyclists in wintertime; one woman actually fell off her bike (hit a slippery patch) and nearly ended up under the wheels of a city bus that was right on her tail. A near miss; she was just lucky. 

It's truly disappointing to realize that a city does not care very much about its inhabitants. It's not as though winter is a short season here in Norway. Even though Oslo does have mild winters at times, when it snows, the problem of snow and ice removal arises. The city doesn't seem to care too much that snow and ice removal from sidewalks is a problem. I guess they think it's ok that there are often record numbers of people who end up in the emergency room with broken bones. And those people are mostly children, young people and middle-aged folks. Elderly people don't dare to leave their homes very often. If they did the numbers would be even higher. I have to say that I just don't get it. 

Just light one candle

These are strange times we live in, but I suppose many generations before us and many that will come after us did and will say the same. It seems as though war, famine, poverty, natural disasters, manmade catastrophes, greed, corruption, inhumanity and lack of compassion will always be with us. Each generation seems to invent a new way to be unkind to humanity. And yet, humanity persists. There must be a reason for that. I believe it is because the numbers of good people in the world outweigh the bad. For all of the media focus on each act of evil in the world, there are probably many more acts of goodness. It's just that we don't hear about them very often. When I look at the number of volunteers around the world, I know that there are many people who make a difference for the better in other people's lives. Without volunteers, the world would truly be a poor place in which to live. People do care about others--about their families and friends, about strangers, about world problems. But most of us know that we cannot solve the big problems, so we support those we know who can and do. Most of us live and will live unremarkable lives; we will not achieve great things by worldly standards, but we do make a difference to those in our lives. And that's really all that matters. The important thing is that we love, try to love, fail at times, and that we try again. Most of us are trying to do our best, and that is what makes the difference, in our own lives and in the lives of those with whom we live and those we love. That doesn't mean that we are able to live each day in a cheerful and upbeat way; sometimes we are cranky, impatient, out of sorts, and dealing with our own aches and pains. It does mean that even when we don't feel like being nice, we try to be nice, because it matters. Sometimes a smile is all it takes to make another person feel ok. I know that's true for me. Or a simple small act of kindness; that can make my day. And then I have more of a desire to 'pay it forward'. So if that's true for me, I'm guessing it's true for others too. 

I've written about this before, but in the end, if we light one candle rather than curse the darkness*, we have done something positive for humanity, for our fellow men and women. If we are that light to others, we guide them through the darkness. And sometimes the others are our guides. Regardless of who is holding the candle, the important thing is that the candle is lit and held by someone. 

Wishing all my readers a blessed Christmas!

*Yet it is far better to light the candle than to curse the darkness. (W. L. Watkinson)

Jul, jul, strålande jul--a beautiful Swedish Christmas song

"Jul, jul, strålende jul" is a Swedish Christmas song from 1921 with lyrics written by Edvard Evers and music composed by Gustaf Nordqvist. 

Jul, jul, strålende jul        (in Norwegian)

Glans over hvite skoger

himmelske kroner av gnistrende lys

skimrende buer i alle Guds hus

salmen som favnet om tid og sted

med evige lengsel mot lys og mot fred

Jul, jul, strålende jul

glans over hvite skoger

Kom, kom, hellige jul

senk dine hvite vinger

over en strid full av blod og larm

over hvert sukk i fra menneskebarn

over de slekter som går til ro

over den ungdom der livet skal gro

Kom, kom, hellige jul

senk dine hvite vinger

---------------------------------------------------------

(and here is the translation to English, with help from Google Translate): 

Christmas, Christmas, glorious Christmas

Brilliance over white forests

heavenly crowns of sparkling light

shimmering arches in all of God's houses

the hymn that embraced time and place

with eternal longing for light and peace

Christmas, Christmas, glorious Christmas

brilliance over white forests

Come, come, Holy Christmas

lower your white wings

over a battle full of blood and noise

over each sigh from human children

over the generations that are laid to rest

over the youth whose lives are just starting

Come, come, Holy Christmas

lower your white wings

------------------------------------------------------

Here are the Swedish lyrics:

Jul, jul strålande jul 

Tekst: Edvard Evers (1853-1919)    Musikk: Gustaf Nordqvist (1886-1949)

Jul, jul, strålande jul, glans över vita skogar,

himmelens kronor med gnistrande ljus,

glimmande bågar i alla Guds hus,

psalm, som är sjungen från tid till tid,

eviga längtan till ljus och frid!

Jul, jul, strålande jul, glans över vita skogar!

Kom, kom, signade jul! Sänk dina vita vingar

över stridernas blod och larm,

över all suckan ur människobarm,

över de släkten, som gå till ro,

över de ungas dagande bo!

Kom, kom, signade jul! Sänk dina vita vingar!

Jul, jul, strålande jul, glans över vita skogar,

himmelens kronor med gnistrande ljus,

glimmande bågar i alla Guds hus,

psalm, som är sjungen från tid till tid,

eviga längtan till ljus och frid!

Jul, jul, strålande jul, glans över vita skogar!

If you want to listen to other versions of this song, here are some links: Jul, Jul, Strålande Jul – Zero8 - YouTube  and Jul, jul, strålande jul | UiB - YouTube

Lights in Oslo's winter darkness

In Oslo, once December comes, the winter darkness comes with it, descending on the city and enveloping it. The darkness is very dark, and is like a living entity, something you can touch or feel. I've grown used to it, but it took a few years of living here before that happened. Once it snows, there is suddenly light in the darkness. But it helps that many people put up Christmas lights that stay up the entire winter. They provide a warmth in the otherwise cold darkness. It is 'koselig' (cozy) to see them lighting up houses and city buildings, from the train station to the Christmas market to the Opera house and the city streets in general. I've taken a lot of photos this year and today's post presents the best of them. Enjoy!

at Aker Brygge

at Aker Brygge

at Aker Brygge

at Aker Brygge

at Aker Brygge

looking out at the Oslo harbor area

at Aker Brygge

at the park at City Hall 

at the Christmas Market

near the Christmas Market 

carousel at the Christmas Market

the slide at the Christmas Market 

Grand Hotel 

a wonderfully-decorated florist's window

tree lights

Christmas trees for sale at Alexander Kielland's plass

a local house decoration

the Christmas tree in our co-op courtyard

Christmas decoration at the Opera House

Christmas decoration at the Oslo train station

Christmas tree at the Oslo train station

downtown Oslo 

the Mall of Oslo, downtown

Månefisken lit up for the season 

CBS Christmas Message (1966)

I have posted this little message once before, but it's worth posting again. It's a lovely little story, really, with several important messages, all presented to us without words. It was designed by R.O. Blechman and animated by Willis Pyle, and the music was arranged by Arnie Black. I love this ad so much, from the simple animation to the simple heartfelt messages. And if you feel about birds as I do, you'll love this greeting even more. We were children when this first appeared on tv; it made an impression then and it still makes an impression now. 

Christmas In Italy (Natale in Italia)--Capitol Records

We grew up listening to this wonderful album at Christmastime. It must be one of my earliest memories of our childhood Christmases. My father was second generation Italian; his parents emigrated from Italy in the early 1900s and settled in New York City. I'm not sure how they found their way to Tarrytown, but that's where they settled and raised their family (my father and his four siblings). My father married a woman of non-Italian heritage (English/Irish/Scottish), but she learned how to make the Italian dishes my father loved, from his mother--my grandmother. So at Christmas they would make struffoli (if you haven't had this pastry, I recommend it highly). My father worked in Manhattan near Herald Square when we were children, so he would stop in Macy's on his way home and buy a panettone (an Italian Christmas cake) as well as different types of Italian hard candy. 

So it's no surprise that I love the cover of this album--a Christmas table with different foods, but what I especially remember is the big Christmas cake--most likely a panettone. 

I'm listening to the album as I write this post. Christmas is still two weeks away, but I wish you all a Buon Natale from the bottom of my heart. 

Here is the track list for those who are interested:

 

0:00 È Nato Gesù (Jesus Was Born)

2:48 Buon Natale

5:07 Pastorale

8:35 Presepe

11:26 Notte Sacra

14:03 Bianco Natale

17:30 La Ninna Nanna A Gesù

20:39 La Stella Di Betlemme

24:09 Alla Luce D'Una Stella

28:20 Campane Di Natale

32:15 Cantico D'Amore

36:00 Dolce Risveglio

Exploring connections and the Southern Reach trilogy

I'm currently reading the Southern Reach Trilogy by Jeff VanderMeer, which consists of three books--Annihilation, Authority, and Acceptance. I read Annihilation after I had seen the film of the same name directed by Alex Garland, who has admitted that when he made Annihilation, he was influenced by the film Stalker, which was directed by Andrei Tarkovsky, who in turn was influenced by the book Roadside Picnic written by Arkady Strugatsky and Boris Strugatsky. These types of connections are what I enjoy so much about the creative world; there's a kind of flow from one genre or creative art form into another. Sometimes that flow is successful, sometimes not. But it doesn't matter to me, what matters is that the author, filmmaker, or songwriter took a risk, stepped out of his or her comfort zone. That's what matters, in the end. There will always be people who love what you did, and those who didn't. Some will even hate the finished product. Does it really matter? Life goes on, creativity goes on, the flow goes on. As an artist, you know that you will have touched someone's soul, and that someone will remember that touch for life. I know that's true for me. I can list up books that I read as a teenager that touched my life forever; the stories have stayed with me for so long, that's how powerful the writing was. 

Authority is the weakest book in VanderMeer's trilogy, but I understand why he wrote it. He wanted us to really get to know Control, the new director of the Southern Reach. Control is a troubled soul, a middle-aged man who really doesn't know what he wants. He's a loner for starters, the son of a domineering mother and an artistic father. His mother is part of the organization, Central, that Control works for. His mother pulls a lot of strings, including for him. You could almost say that she is the puppeteer and he the marionette. They have a strange relationship, very difficult to define. The book is difficult to categorize overall, but it has its creepy, hair-raising moments. As I wrote in my review of the book on Goodreads: 

There are whole passages in Authority that are downright creepy, e.g., when Control discovers what Whitby has been doing and where he has been doing it. The description of his meeting in the 'secret room' with Whitby will make your hair stand on end. Or when the building wall dissolves, and the former director shows up. I live for those moments in these kinds of books. VanderMeer has a way of building up the anticipation of something bad that's going to happen, even if it doesn't at exactly that time, as when Control visits the director's house. But you know disaster is coming. When he writes like that, this book is at its best. But there are also whole sections that are too drawn-out; I suppose VanderMeer wanted to enforce the idea that Control was a pawn in Central's bureaucratic game (and in his mother's as well). But this means that there are long descriptions of bureaucracy and chain of command, and of events that are illogical at best, e.g. why Lowry was the Voice. But in a place like Southern Reach, it would perhaps be hard to expect anything but irrationality and chaos. VanderMeer is a very good writer, but the book could have been shorter without losing any of the 'atmosphere'. I am currently reading Acceptance and hope that the mystery of Area X is explained satisfactorily. 

After I finish reading Acceptance, I will read Roadside Picnic. I'm looking forward to reading the book that led to the films Stalker and Annihilation. And after that I will watch a few more Alex Garland films, although I've already seen 28 Days Later and Ex Machina, both of which are excellent. If you haven't seen them, I recommend them highly. 

Winter darkness

This was how it was for us when we were working during the wintertime--getting up and leaving for work in the dark and leaving work and arriving home in the dark. The sun rose after 9 am and set shortly after 3 pm, here in Oslo. It's a darkness that envelopes you; you get used to it, but I still say, give me summertime any day. This cartoon by Gabrielle Drolet is from The New Yorker from a few days ago.  

 

Reflections on careers--my husband's and my own

I remember the first time I traveled abroad; it was in August 1987. I attended a flow cytometry conference in Cambridge, England, and had planned my trip such that I had a few days to myself in London before I made my way north to Cambridge by train. I've written about this trip before, so I won't retell the story. Suffice it to say that I met some really wonderful people who made me feel right at home in England, and I'll never forget them. 

The Society for Analytical Cytology (SAC)--that was the organization responsible for the conference. It is now known as the International Society for Advancement of Cytometry (ISAC), even though it was always an international conference from day one. When I started working in the Investigative Cytology lab at Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center in 1982, I had the privilege of working with some of the founding fathers of flow cytometry/flow cytometric techniques--Myron Melamed, Zbigniew Darzynkiewicz, Frank Traganos, and Don Evenson. I knew already then that I was in the presence of scientific visionaries; men who were ambitious and generous with their expertise and time. Their lab was a dynamic place; inspiring and progressive. There was room to grow, and I did, under their tutelage. Their generosity extended to allowing all lab members to travel to relevant conferences, and that's how I ended up in Cambridge, England. 

After I arrived in Cambridge and settled in (a simple dorm room with a bed, desk, closet and chair), I found my way to the conference hall for the introductory lecture and presentation of the conference schedule. I sat alone in the auditorium, but after some time a woman entered and went to the podium area to check on the microphones. I have never forgotten her because she had dark hair with a large gray streak; her name was Donna Arndt-Jovin. From what I heard at a later time point, she was an American who had married a German scientist, Tom Jovin, and they lived in Germany. When I heard more about her life, I thought it was so interesting that she had married a fellow scientist and that they shared a passion for flow cytometry. This was before I met my husband, so I had no idea of what was to transpire in the coming years. The only thing I knew was that I liked the fact that they were professional equals. It appealed to me, to be able to share your work life with your spouse. 

My husband retired yesterday, and his department (Radiation Biology) gave him a very nice sendoff--an afternoon gathering with cakes, coffee, and speeches about his 44-year long career and what he has meant to his department. He is one of a rare breed of employees that remained at the same workplace for his entire career, of course in different positions. He started as a Master student, got his PhD in biophysics, did a postdoc, and then was hired as a full-time cancer researcher. He eventually became a research group leader but also leader of the flow cytometry core facility. I met him in 1987 in Cambridge, when he came over to and sat down at our table in one of the pubs my lab colleagues and I frequented. I believe it was the pub where Watson and Crick (of DNA helix structure fame) met and discussed their findings. He and I hit it off, and the rest as they say is history. 

I reflected on all of this yesterday when I listened to the talks and saw the slides that rotated continually throughout the afternoon. Some of them were of him and me, together at conferences. We looked so young in some of them; so strange to think that we are now at retirement age. We attended nearly every flow cytometry conference that SAC and ISAC arranged, which meant that we got to travel to some interesting places, among them: Hilton Head Island, SC; Cambridge, England; Breckenridge, CO; Asheville, NC; Bergen, Norway; Colorado Springs, CO; Lake Placid, NY; Montpellier, France (twice); Budapest, Hungary; Leipzig, Germany. The Norwegian Cancer Society was always generous enough to pay for these conferences; the professional and social (networking) gains were worth the money. Even though I moved to Norway after I met my husband, I kept in touch with my former colleagues via these meetings, and of course via Christmas cards and eventually emails. It always felt like a small world--this network of cytometrists. We all knew each other, and it was always enjoyable to meet again at conferences. 

I retired in August 2021, and now my husband is retired. We were both cancer researchers (my PhD is in tumor cell biology) and flow cytometrists. I realized yesterday that my first thought at my first conference in Cambridge--that it would be nice to have a spouse who shared my work interests--in fact became a reality. I hadn't really reflected fully on that until yesterday when I saw the photos of us together. During the past thirty years, we've collaborated on a number of research projects, and I must say that those times were fun times; not only enjoyable in terms of both our research teams working together and getting to know each other, but also the professional enjoyment connected to a job well-done (published papers and presentations at meetings). I'm thankful for the past thirty years, that we made that happen. We chose that path, despite the occasional difficulties and differences of opinion. It was worth it. 

When I retired, I was happy to leave my workplace behind. I had been ready to do so for several years prior. I too was given a nice sendoff by my department, and I left knowing that I had done the best job I could do under the circumstances (very little research support and reduced staff). However, I do feel that he was valued in a more concrete way by his department than I was by mine; he had firmer support from research leadership than I did. I stay in touch with former colleagues; we meet for dinner a few times a year, and in the summertime, I invite them to a garden party. I hope for my husband that he stays in touch with some of his colleagues, who became friends over the years. They will miss him, that I know, because he, like my former bosses at Memorial, was very knowledgeable and generous with his expertise and time. 

Thanksgiving reflections

It's easy to become complacent about life, to take for granted what we have and ignore what is happening in the rest of the world. It's easy to block out the misery around us, or to pretend that there is no misery around us. But there is. Even in a rich country like Norway, some people have problems paying their bills or having enough money for food. Some dread the thought of Christmas because they won't be able to buy gifts for their children. The Salvation Army (Frelsesarmeen) and The Church City Mission (Stiftelsen Kirkens Bymisjon) have sent out pamphlets informing that the number of people who stand in food lines has increased dramatically. This is a result of the extremely high electricity prices that affect all sectors of society. Food prices have increased, some restaurants have closed or have limited hours, my former workplace (a huge city hospital at three locations) has lowered the inside temperature at each location to circa 65 degrees. In the middle of winter, that's chilly. Employees walk around with thick outdoor jackets, indoors. I remember the last three years of working at my hospital; it was just plain cold in my office during the winter. Some people brought oil radiators from home; I did the same. If it's like this in a rich country, imagine a poor one. 

We have much to be thankful for, but we must never take for granted what we have. The world situation is quite unstable now, what with the war in the Ukraine, power-mad leaders like Putin and dictators elsewhere. Luckily the USA dodged a bullet and has remained a democracy as revealed by the mid-term elections, but it may not be so lucky the next time a wannabe dictator gets ahold of the megaphone. There is no commandment from God that says that the USA will always remain a democracy. 

We need to be the change we want in our societies. If we want more kindness and more compassion, then behave kindly and compassionately. If we want more empathy, be more empathetic. If we want more reflection and intelligent decisions, be more reflective and educate yourselves on issues of importance. If we want more respect, then respect others. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. The Golden Rule. It really is. 

I am reposting this post I wrote in 2011 about empathy. It's entitled: Learning Empathy. 

A New Yorker in Oslo: Learning empathy (paulamdeangelis.blogspot.com)

Be the change you want in your life

I saw this quote on social media today and thought it was worth posting. It was written by Victoria Erickson. 

"If you inherently long for something, become it first. If you want gardens, become the gardener. If you want love, embody love. If you want mental stimulation, change the conversation. If you want peace, exude calmness. If you want to fill your world with artists, begin to paint. If you want to be valued, respect your own time. If you want to live ecstatically, find the ecstasy within yourself. This is how to draw it in, day by day, inch by inch."

Two by Tarkovsky

I watched the sci-fi horror movie Annihilation on Netflix this past week for the second time; the first time was during the pandemic. I didn't remember some of the plot points, so it was good to see it again. A very good movie overall, with some interesting points to discuss. It was directed by Alex Garland of Ex Machina fame, another sci-fi (with some horror elements) movie that was excellent. In Annihilation, the 'Shimmer' is a land zone defined by continual mutation and which, once you enter, alters (mutates) a person inasmuch as the entry of said person alters the zone (its physical/biological/psychological/ emotional composition). All those that have previously entered the Shimmer have not returned and are presumed dead, with the exception of a man named Kane, who is married to Lena (played by an excellent Natalie Portman), a biologist and former soldier (like Kane). The reason for missions into the Shimmer is to find out what has happened at the lighthouse on the coast, where it is rumored that a meteorite has hit, bringing with it something extraterrestrial. The Shimmer seems to be mutating and expanding continuously with the expected repercussions (altered humanity and animal/bird life and death). Kane is completely disoriented upon his return and falls gravely ill within a few hours afterward. Lena joins a five-woman team of scientists who enter the Shimmer in order to find answers as to how to save Kane, what the Shimmer is as well as to what has happened to previous missions. Lena also wants to assuage her conscience of the guilt she has over an extramarital affair that Kane found out about, and which influenced his decision to join a military (suicide) mission to enter the Shimmer. I won't give away any more of the story, since it's absolutely worth seeing as much for the story as for the scares. The theme that runs throughout the film is that human life is characterized by a propensity for self-destruction (via our biology, psychology, personality and choices). When I was reading about the movie online, I found out that it was based on a book (book 1 of the Southern Reach trilogy) by Jeffrey VanderMeer, which I plan to read. But a major influence on Alex Garland's Annihilation was the 1979 Soviet sci-fi film Stalker by Andrei Tarkovsky, which Garland has acknowledged. 

I rented Stalker last night and watched it on GooglePlay. Like Annihilation, Stalker got under my skin. I thought the film, although long (2 hours and 42 minutes) was very good, but it's definitely not for everyone. It's a bleak film with a bleak message, no doubt influenced by Tarkovsky's personal resistance to the oppressive Soviet communist regime (dark, bleak, cold). The story is about a Stalker (a guide) who leads a Writer and a Professor into a zoned-off secure area where no one is permitted to enter, so they must sneak their way in. The Zone is an unpopulated nature preserve where there exists a house with a magical room that grants a person's most fervent wishes. As the Stalker explains to the two men, they must not wander off or disturb the Zone in any way, because it is dangerous to do so. The Zone senses the presence of the men, and as in Annihilation, few to no people return from the Zone. The Stalker's work is to guide unhappy people into the Zone and guide them out again; he earns money doing this, but he himself is not allowed to enter the wish room. The Stalker's life is not very happy; his wife berates him for leaving her and their crippled daughter for days/weeks at a time, they have very little money, and they live in a small flat that vibrates when the trains go by. As the film progresses, there is much discussion about the meaning of life, the meaning of art and science, the meaning of the wish room and the repercussions of having one's wishes granted. It is a philosophical film in that regard. I found it bleak because I felt for the Stalker, a good and simple man whose sole goal was in helping others to be happy and not worrying about himself. He believes in hope and the possibility of a better life for others, less for himself as he seems to have accepted his fate as a poor man. He does not want the Zone destroyed as it would destroy the meaning for his existence. He believes in the Zone and that the Zone has to be respected and preserved. He has faith that his work is helping others, but by the end of the film, that faith has been shaken. Again, I won't give away the story, as it is worth experiencing. What compounded the sadness for me was learning that Tarkovsky, his wife Larisa, and the man who played the Writer (Anatoly Solonitsyn) all died of the same type of lung cancer after the film was released--Solonitsyn in 1982, Tarkovsky in 1986, and his wife in 1998. It is thought that their cancers resulted from exposure to toxic chemicals from the chemical plant located upstream from the movie set--a deserted hydroelectric power plant in Estonia. 

Stalker was made in 1979; Tarkovsky's probably best-known film, Solaris, was made in 1972. The film Solaris from 2002, directed by Steven Soderbergh, is also one of my favorite films (A New Yorker in Oslo: “There are no answers, only choices” (paulamdeangelis.blogspot.com); A New Yorker in Oslo: The Martian Chronicles and Solaris (paulamdeangelis.blogspot.com). Both films are based on the book Solaris by the Polish writer Stanislaw Lem. Both deviate from Lem's book; apparently Lem was none too pleased with Tarkovsky's changes to his book and was even less pleased with Soderbergh's. I rented the 1972 film today on GooglePlay. Like Stalker, it's a long film, clocking in at 2 hours and 47 minutes, with long sequences here and there focused on one object, e.g., waving grass, a picture on a wall, a pitcher, a broken container. Both the length of the film and the extended sequences can test your patience, and I can't help but think that the film could have benefitted from trimming at some points. But I fall into the category of viewers who give directors the benefit of the doubt. Are they leading us somewhere? Are they revealing small clues as to what's coming? Like Stalker, Solaris has an atmosphere of foreboding that hangs over it; you know that something's coming and that it's not likely to be good. Tarkovsky is excellent at creating 'atmosphere'; it can be uncanny, bleak, grim, mystical--sometimes all of them in one. Both films deal with metaphysical questions--who we are, what makes us who we are, the importance of memories, the meaning of existence, the acquisition of sentience and the implications of that for the definition of humanity. Again, as I wrote in my blog post 'There are no answers, only choices', that remains the conclusion (for me) after seeing both of Tarkovsky's films. He was not interested in providing pat answers for us, he was interested in probing these questions. As such, his films are not for everyone, especially not for those looking for sci-fi movies with alien monsters and the resultant body count. In Solaris, the 'alien' is a sentient ocean, one that is trying to understand humanity as much as humans are trying to understand it. The Solaris Ocean provides humans onboard the spaceship, who are probing and studying it, with 'gifts' in the form of people they have known and loved but who are actually dead in reality. These entities, called 'guests' in Tarkovsky's film, can be viewed as manifestations of an individual's nagging conscience regarding the deaths of his or her loved ones. The sequence when the psychologist Kelvin first arrives on the spaceship is eerie enough; the spaceship is mostly deserted, and the two surviving crew members have chosen to remain in their rooms rather than greet him on his arrival. Over the course of the movie, we learn that some of the crew members (now dead) went insane because of these 'guests'. I'll have to go back and reread Lem's novel, but both Tarkovsky and Soderbergh came up with interesting endings for their respective movies, even if Lem didn't approve. They are the kinds of endings I love, as they lead to discussion about what happened and what the director was aiming at. I like doing postmortems on movies, but I know that not everyone does. I also like a good alien monster move, because I love movies, period. If the movie is made well, I enjoy it. Stalker and Solaris are both worth watching and discussing afterward. 

If you want to waste your day

 

The year of pandemic living

I just finished Elizabeth Strout's new book, Lucy by the Sea, and found it to be a good read. The main character, Lucy Barton (a writer whose second husband recently died), finds herself riding out the pandemic in a rented house in Maine together with her ex-husband William, who has orchestrated the entire arrangement. He and she have remained friends after their divorce; he contacts her right before the pandemic hits bigtime to tell her that they need to leave Manhattan immediately. She acquiesces rather quickly, knowing that he is a scientist (parasitologist) and that he probably knows something she doesn't. The novel details their year together in a house by the sea, and how their relationship is rekindled after many years of living apart. William is now in his seventies and has major health problems, whereas Lucy appears to be in her late sixties and still relatively healthy, although she suffers from anxiety and the occasional panic attack. They are older and (presumably) wiser, dealing with regret and with the knowledge of their mortality. He is sorry for how he treated her (had affairs); she seems to be struggling with being alternatively judgmental and forgiving. In that sense, she is like all of us who have been hurt by someone--we want to forgive, we do forgive, but we wonder if we are being weak by doing so. We wonder if we should be hard and unforgiving. The novel deals frankly with the pandemic and the political events of the past several years. 

What struck me about the novel was the description of the loneliness that many Americans felt during the pandemic, as well as the panic and anxiety that many of them lived with each day. It was different here in Oslo; we underwent a similar type of lockdown, but I don't remember feeling that loneliness, the way Strout described it. It felt so empty, so desperate, so sad. And yet, I can only speak for myself. I know that the pandemic affected many people here in similar ways, especially those who lived alone. Perhaps that is what made the difference--having someone with whom to share lockdown. Because social life as we knew it ceased to exist. There were no get-togethers, parties, weddings and reunions were cancelled, bars and restaurants were closed, and people worked from home. I didn't find the latter bothering at all, in fact, I preferred it because I never felt lonely at home as I did at work. But again, everyone is different, and I can only speak for myself. 

Strout's book has gotten good reviews, but as always, I'm interested in the negative reviews as well. Those who are negative about the book are so because they did not want to read a pandemic book that reminded them of a horrible time. Additionally, they felt that very little happened to the main characters and that there really wasn't all that much to write about. While the former is true, I disagree that there wasn't really much to write about. The exploration of one's emotional life is not nothing. Lucy finally has the time to figure out how she feels about many things, and what she finds out is that life in general and her life in particular are complex, and that most of us live in the gray area between the black and white. In other words, while we would like life to be black and white, it is not. We are always struggling with our thoughts and emotions. But in the end, we are who we are and as we approach the last chapter of our lives, it is unlikely that there will be major personality changes. If you are the forgiving gentle type, you will most likely remain that way. If you are the aggressive unforgiving type or the philandering type, ditto. So that begs the question of whether she can trust William when he tells her at the end of the novel that he loves her. He seems to, and perhaps he always did, throughout his affairs and their divorce. The question, as her daughters remind her of, is whether she can trust William. The novel provides no answers to that question, and as Lucy herself points out, “It is a gift in this life that we do not know what awaits us.” How true. 

A month of rain

It has rained on and off in Oslo for nearly a month now, sometimes heavily, other times lightly. Each day we wake up and hope for sun, sunshine, warmth--for the crisp, cool days of autumn punctuated by sunny blue skies. But apparently, it's not to be, not this year. I have no idea how much longer this weather is expected to continue. If it's too hot or too cold (extremes), people will complain. But I never complain that it is too sunny outside. And I don't complain when it rains a few days here or there. But this type of rainy weather that we have now is irksome. I'm glad I got most of my garden prep work for the winter done during September and early October. I've been in the garden a few times during the past few weeks; the ground is muddy and slippery, the grass is a soggy, sloppy mess, and the air is damp and chilly. Not very inviting to spend time there. 

In the summer of 2018, Western Europe experienced a heat wave for several weeks that was often referred to as a 'heat dome' that had situated itself over that area; it led to drought-like conditions. I remember it well because we were traveling in England and Ireland at the time, and most of the vegetation we saw was not green, but brown. Everything had dried up or dried out. These weeks of rain I will be labeling a 'rain dome' even though I know there is no such thing in meteorology. I've read that some meteorologists have stated that this is normal autumn weather. I reply unequivocally that it is not. There is nothing normal about this weather. 

Anyone who states that climate change is a hoax is simply not registering what is going on around them. It doesn't matter to me whether the climate change is natural or manmade. The point is that it's happening all around us. I am not very optimistic that we will be able to do much to reverse it. Perhaps we will be able to slow it down, but it's not encouraging to witness the increase in the number of hurricanes, the increase in hurricane intensities, the melting of the glaciers in Greenland, the melting of the polar caps, the rising sea levels, and the steadily increasing instability of the atmosphere. This past summer in Oslo had to be one of the windiest on record. I gauge that by how many times we were out on the boat; I don't go out on the boat when it's windy because I don't like the resultant choppy water. I was on the boat about three or four times this past summer. That's not a lot compared to other summers where the weather has been more stable. 

It is said that one can get used to pretty much anything. I hope that is the case. Humankind in the twenty-first century has a lot of formidable challenges in store for it. I don't think all of the challenges can be met or tackled. For the first time in my life, I see the limitations of our human existence and of science. We live after all on a planet in a universe that is constantly expanding. There is no reason to expect that our planet will remain stable in terms of its meteorology. And there is no reason to expect that mankind can win against the forces of nature and the universe.

Some new street art in Oslo

Wandering around Oslo, walking in different areas of the city; I ran across this cool graffiti recently. Intriguing street art--I love the use of the different colors! I don't know who the artist is, otherwise, I would credit him or her immediately. If someone who reads this post knows who the artist is, please let me know and I'll update this post. 

One more song by Gilberto Gil--Andar com fé (Walk with Faith)

Another song by Gilberto Gil that I love--Andar com fé (Walk with Faith) from his album: Um Banda Um. 

Toda Menina Baiana by Gilberto Gil

Toda Menina Baiana (Every Bahia Girl) is a great song by one of my favorite Brazilian artists--Gilberto Gil. I first discovered Gil in the mid-1980s in the world music section of Tower Records in Manhattan. I used to stop there often on my way home from work, and usually left with a new album or two. I fell in love with most of Gil's music and spent some time trying to learn to pronounce the lyrics (in Portuguese) when I sang the songs. I had no idea what I was singing about, but it didn't matter. The music was captivating and made me happy, which was a welcome change for my life at that time. This song was released in 1979 but I didn't hear it for the first time until the mid-1980s. 

As fate (God) would have it, a young Brazilian scientist (Juli) started working at my research institute in 2006, and we got to talking. I mentioned that I loved Gilberto Gil, and lo and behold, where do you think she came from? Bahia. The area of Brazil that Gil comes from and sings about. Coincidence? I don't think so. She too loved Gil and she gave me a CD with some of his music. Over the years we've become good friends and in 2009 we attended the World Music Festival here in Oslo where Gilberto Gil was performing. His concert was wonderful; people didn't want it to end and kept clapping so that he would continue singing. I would love to see him again in concert, but I wonder if he still tours (he's 80 years old now). Every time I hear Toda Menina Baiana I think of my friend, the Bahia girl. She lives permanently in Norway now and doesn't get back to Brazil very often. I've never traveled to Brazil but I'd love to visit the country at some point, and Bahia will be on my list of places to visit. 

Barbara Acklin - Am I the Same Girl from 1968

I don't remember this song from growing up, probably because it was a bit before my time. I heard it recently as background music on, of all things, a garden program about a Swedish couple who had built their dream garden in the backyard of the house they had purchased in Sicily. When construction was finished, they had a party, and this song was playing in the background. So I just had to know what song it was......I love it. Swing Out Sister did a very good version of it in 1992; you can find it here: Swing Out Sister "Am I The Same Girl" 1992 - YouTube

Drake--Flight's Booked

Drake's new song--Flight's Booked 👍👍from his Honestly, Nevermind house music album. A great dance song.....

The Nightmare Before Christmas--a Halloween film that's become a classic

I remember the first time I saw The Nightmare Before Christmas (The Nightmare Before Christmas (1993) - IMDb). It was in 1993 and we were still living in San Francisco, although our year there was coming to an end. The film was released in the USA on October 29, 1993, just in time for Halloween, and I saw it during the first week of November in a movie theater on the north side of Golden Gate Park. I remember that day very well, because I was the only one in the theater for the 3 pm afternoon showing, which they did not cancel, thankfully. I had left work early in order to see the film and it would have been disappointing not to have seen it. I left the theater thinking that I had seen an amazing film, and some years later I actually bought a video cassette of the film and watched it one or two more times before VHS films were phased out. I never purchased a DVD version of it; it was always on my to-do list but eventually streaming channels came along and I figured it would be possible to watch it on Netflix or HBO or the myriad of other streaming channels at some point. Sure enough, it's available on Disney+ (no surprise there since it's a Disney production) and Apple TV, among others. If you haven't seen it, I recommend it highly. The story of Jack Skellington the Pumpkin King, who decides that he can better his life by 'producing' Christmas one year instead of Halloween as usual, is a memorable one. The songs, the text, the creatures, the animation--all of them combine to make a film that is truly exceptional. As I said, at this point it's a classic.

Apart from It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown, which is a wonderful Halloween classic, there aren't that many films that can be considered classic Halloween films for the entire family (meaning kids and their parents), not in the same way as for Christmas films. I know that there are a lot of Halloween horror films and that many of them are classics, but they are for adults and teenagers (the Halloween movie series comes to mind, and yes, they are creepy). 

There is something about seeing some movies on the big screen together with other people you know are fans. That was my experience today. Frogner Cinema in Oslo, which dates from the 1920s, set up two showings this weekend of The Nightmare Before Christmas. I went to today's 3 pm showing and the theater was almost filled, which was good to see. The majority of the attendees were teenagers and young adults, men and women alike. At the end of the film, people actually clapped, and that hasn't happened in ages in my experience. It was good to see because it gave me hope that there is still 'room' in modern society for movie theaters. I don't want them to disappear because there is nothing like seeing a movie for the first time (or even second and third times) in a dark movie theater. It's always a memorable experience, especially if the film is worth seeing. Many of my memories from youth are of times spent going to the movies. I thank Frogner Cinema for setting up these showings this weekend; it was a fun way to spend a couple of hours on a rainy Sunday afternoon. Just in time for Halloween......

The new Tappan Zee Bridge

For those of you who are wondering about the header picture of the dual-span cable-stayed twin bridge at the top of my blog, it is a photo I took of the new Tappan Zee bridge during my September visit to New York State. The new bridge opened for traffic in 2017; the old one was taken down due to its age and constant need for repairs. You can read more about it here: Tappan Zee Bridge (2017–present) - Wikipedia

The new bridge is lovely, and at night it is often lit up in different colors to celebrate or honor different events and organizations. I'm proud to say that it connects Tarrytown, my hometown on the east side of the Hudson River, with Nyack on the west side of the river. There is a pedestrian/bike lane on the bridge as well; if you'd like to walk across you can park your car on either side of the river. It's not something I've done as of yet, but it's on the list of things to do when I visit NY. 

One of Mary Oliver's most popular poems--The Summer Day

The Summer Day

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean —
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down —
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

+ Mary Oliver

I first came across the last two lines of this poem before I knew that there was an entire poem in front of them. This poem is from Mary Oliver's House of Light collection. I've since purchased several volumes of her poetry and am savoring them as I read them. So much of what she writes about is a reminder for us to be truly mindful (before it became a trendy word), to be present in our own lives. She wants us to pay attention to our own life and the life around us--insects, birds, fish, small animals and large animals. In some of her other poems she even wonders about what stones feel and think. I love that. 

In this poem, her way of praying is to pay attention, to fall and kneel in the grass, to be idle and blessed, even though she isn't really sure what a prayer is. But what is prayer if not this? She cultivated the ability to 'wonder', to be surprised by and grateful for nature at every turn. 'Wonder' is defined as 'a feeling of amazement and admiration, caused by something beautiful, remarkable, or unfamiliar'. It is the wonder we experienced as children when we came across something beautiful or unfamiliar. I know I felt wonder when I as a child looked at the underside of fern fronds and saw spores, which are the ferns' method of reproduction, or when we went on a field trip and went looking for moss's reproductive structures. Or observed lichen growing on a rock. Or when we collected leaves from different trees in the autumn. Or when we saw snow-laden branches on a fir tree, how beautiful they looked, or ice formations in small brooks and even on the Hudson River. I knew wonder when my father and I sat at his desk in the evening with the small microscope he and my mother bought for me, and we looked at the already-prepared slides of diatoms (single-celled algae) that came with the microscope set. So amazing to see these magnified tiny organisms that make their home in sea water and fresh water. 

I think if we retain our ability to wonder throughout our lives, we will be able to tap into our 'child lives'. Not childish or silly lives, but rather lives that are open to the world. A kind of purity of soul, uncontaminated by the negativity and evil around us. Innocent as it were. It's not easy. But if we say no to cynicism and negativity, we leave more room for wonder. It's a good start. 

Just about as perfect a photo as you can get

This photograph of a hummingbird and four bees drinking water from a birdbath was taken by Toshiyasu Morita (Hummingbird & Bees — Toshiyasu Morita). It is an amazing photo, about as perfect a photo as you could ever hope to capture and actually get. I love it! As I've written about before in this blog, the honeybees in my garden love drinking water from the birdbath on a hot dry summer day, so this photo is a wonderful reminder of that. I've photographed them doing so, but not as up close as Morita managed. This photo makes my day!

https://images.app.goo.gl/trvB6YqZLnDwFdK2A

My gardening philosophy

I saw this today and had to laugh. This is my gardening philosophy exactly and my standard comment to my fellow gardeners in the allotment garden when we discuss what plants have grown and thrived and what plants haven't. The quote is by Janet Kilburn Phillips, an environmental educator, gardening expert and coach (Plant Harmony); I am not sure who took the photo. 

 

A good reminder for us all

Workplace culture

Every so often, when I meet friends for dinner, we inevitably end up talking about work and workplaces in general. Nearly every person I know who is around my age has a story or two to tell about unpleasant occurrences that they've experienced in their respective workplaces. That includes me too. We don't focus on just them--most of us also have good memories of our work projects/results as researchers, but the less than pleasant occurrences are used to illustrate some of the more negative aspects of Norwegian workplace culture, which I am not a huge fan of in general.

Academic research settings in the public sector, where most of my colleagues/friends and I have worked for the past thirty or more years, are strange work environments in which to find oneself, for Norwegians and non-Norwegians alike. I've always assumed that my Norwegian friends understood 'the rules' better than I did; I'm finding out that this is not the case, and that they were not necessarily treated any better (or worse) than I was when I was working. As always, how one was treated came down to politics--who you knew was more important than what you knew--at least if you wanted to get ahead. The Norwegians talk a good game about all employees being treated equally (the same) and that the same opportunities exist for all, but it's not true. Most academic research settings at present are quite hierarchical with many levels of leadership; this was not the case during the 1990s when I started working at my university hospital. At that time the organizational structure was flatter, with fewer levels of leadership. The disadvantages of a flat structure are that there are fewer possibilities to rise in the system (fewer management positions) and that the managers have a more intense workload compared to hierarchical organizations. The advantages of a flat structure (in my opinion) are that each employee has more autonomy and more freedom to be creative, to speak out, and to be heard. Nowadays there is too much micromanagement, too much administration, too much reporting to managers, too much detail-oriented nonsense. It's smothering, claustrophobic and ultimately fatal for innovation and creativity. There were more of the latter during the 1990s in my humble opinion. No matter. Organizational structures became very hierarchical during the early 2000s; in some departments at present, it is not unusual to be confronted with five or more levels of leadership. Dealing with your own leader/manager is one thing, but then he or she must deal with his or her manager who must deal with his or her manager above them in the system, and so forth. Suffice it to say that it is a cumbersome organizational structure with which to deal. I don't like it and didn't like it when I was working. Middle managers have little or no power to decide how something should go, and many of them become frustrated with such a system. Thus, the focus for many of them becomes micromanagement of their employees, many of whom are trying their best to do their best in a system that is not designed to reward them. Because even though one can 'aspire' to a higher position in a hierarchical organization, in practice there is little to no chance of being promoted or being considered for promotion based on your expertise, because it mostly comes down to 'who you know, not what you know'. Neither flat nor hierarchical organizational structures really reward their employees, at least not in huge public sector workplaces. It's stifling to work in them and to work for managers who can do little to help the departments they lead because they must always 'check' with the managers above them before they do anything. Who would want those positions? Apparently, there are those who do want them, because they are well-paid jobs. But what then happens is that a lot of money that could have been appropriated for solving the real problems that exist goes to pay the salaries of (in my opinion again) useless managers. Thus, the system is loaded with powerless managers with bloated salaries. 

If employees don't like this type of work environment, and most of my colleagues/friends and I do (did) not, employees have a real problem. Because their attempts at independent thinking, innovative thinking, critical thinking, creativity, and not wanting to work in team settings will be met with resistance from managers who expect compliance. Employees should not 'buck the system', should not butt heads (however respectfully) with managers, should not criticize, should not attempt to 'go rogue (be a loner)'. The strange thing is that some people do manage to navigate this system that is designed to keep employees down; some probably get ahead because they are well-liked even though they are resistant to the system. Others are given a helping hand by friends in high places (politics). Neither of these occurrences happens to most employees. Most employees who are competent and have a lot of expertise end up having to comply and to swallow rules they don't agree with in order to have a tolerable work environment within which to work. Those who are not compliant suffer the consequences, which boil down to being frozen out, ignored, overlooked for interesting projects, or criticized. Since employees can rarely be fired from a public sector workplace, managers hope that by creating an unpleasant work environment for resistant employees, that it will force them to seek work other places. For smart and competent employees who love their work but not the organizational system, this creates anxiety and problems with self-confidence. Which in turn leads to poorer production and lack of motivation/enthusiasm. This has happened to more people I know than I care to count, both non-Norwegian and Norwegian. 

Who benefits from such a system? Those at the top who enjoy perks and salaries that are largely unjustifiable, and those who have always been lazy, who have always not wanted to expend any more energy at work than they have to. The latter are true drains on the system. And unfortunately, many have learned to manipulate the system, especially when it comes to the aspect of not being able to fire them. These employees invest little energy in their jobs (and in many cases don't show up to work), and if they are criticized by their managers for not doing a good job or for not doing the job they were hired to do, they are allowed by the system to accuse those managers of harassment. The stigma of being unfairly accused of harassment sticks to a manager. Work environments are small enough so that word gets around that this or that person has been accused of harassing an employee. Unpleasant. What then follows is that the 'harassed' employee generally gets a new manager to report to, who has heard the story of what happened to the previous manager and decides that he or she will not make the same mistake as the previous manager. He or she leaves the 'harassed' employee alone to do what he or she wants; in that way, such an employee, often quite lazy and incompetent, remains on the payroll doing little to nothing in the way of work, because no one dares to cross such an employee. If you could fire such an employee from a public sector workplace, it would be a good thing. But it will never happen here. And from what I've seen of the system that does exist, such employees have a lot of power, whereas those who are truly harassed by their managers don't choose that route--to claim being harassed--because they would rather do their jobs well and not be a bother. Competent and hard-working employees often end up doing more than their share of work to compensate for the lack of work done by the lazy and incompetent employees. Unfortunately, a good number of managers leave the incompetent employees alone and instead focus on making life miserable for the competent and hard-working employees. Go figure. 

So again, I ask. What is there to miss about such workplaces? Just during the past two weeks, I've listened to colleagues/friends tell me about their experiences in their workplaces. Overall, they are leaving their jobs with their heads held high; they know they've done good jobs and are satisfied, even if they rarely hear that from their managers. They know they've done the best they could do and have invested a lot of time and energy in their jobs. They may have been treated poorly at times, but they've let those experiences go. Probably best for all concerned. But nonetheless, they do talk about the unpleasant times when we are together because they were hurt by them, as I was. They were blindsided by them. It's understandable. No one expects to be treated poorly when one does a good or excellent job, invests a lot of time and energy in interesting projects, shares ideas and demonstrates independent thinking. But that's exactly what happened to some of them, while they watched the lazy incompetent employees be treated fairly, and in some cases 'promoted'. It makes no sense. But in some way, perhaps it does. Lazy, incompetent employees are no real threat to management. They don't challenge their authority, they are compliant, they do what they are told. But they don't do the work required of them, and management can't do a thing about it, at least in public sector workplaces. Private sector workplaces are another story. Such employees eventually drain the life out of a department. The rest of the staff pick up the slack and will never be rewarded for it. That's how workplaces function here, at least in my experience during the last twenty years. When good employees reach the point where they understand that they could have invested half the amount of time and energy compared to what they actually invested for the same (or no) result, that's when they understand that it's time to leave their workplaces and a workplace culture that is mostly illogical.