A good book--Bad Science by Ben Goldacre

If I could recommend one good book this summer, Bad Science by Ben Goldacre would be it. I know the book has been around for several years, but I am just finally getting around to reading it. I am thoroughly enjoying it, not only as a scientist interested in how the public understands science, but also as a member of that public. As I read the book, I try to put myself in the shoes of non-scientists, to determine if they can really understand what Ben Goldacre is saying. I believe they can—he is that good a writer—never dull or dry, rather smart and humorous, but deadly serious concerning what he writes about. I find myself thinking—yes, it’s good to be skeptical and questioning, it’s correct to want to see good statistics in newspaper articles, something to which he devotes an entire chapter (Bad Stats). It’s correct to want the media to be accountable for their reporting of medical and scientific issues. I know that it’s ok to be all these things, because as a scientist, I both write and review articles (peer review) for scientific journals. Part of learning to become a scientist involves learning to be critical, objective, unemotional, and tough when reviewing articles for your peers as well as when writing your own. You learn to welcome constructive criticism from co-authors and journal editors alike. You learn to swallow your pride and put aside your ego often, to edit your own article in ways that you never thought possible, and to suggest that other scientists do the same when it is your turn to be a reviewer.

I think Bad Science should be required reading for high school and college students, so important is its message. And it might get fledgling scientists to really take a look at what is demanded of them for the future in terms of the quality of the research they will perform, and why it is important for them to adhere to a few basic ground rules. Because Ben Goldacre has no patience for quacks or sloppy science, and he is not afraid to say so. Here are just a few of the chapter titles in Bad Science: The Placebo Effect; The Nonsense du Jour; How the Media Promote the Public Misunderstanding of Science; Why Clever People Believe Stupid Things; and The Media’s MMR Hoax. He is merciless when it comes to holding the media accountable for what they write about medicine and science, and he is right. They should be held accountable, from journalists all the way up to editors. But as I said, he is also humorous, in that especially British sort of way. His description of the media frenzy surrounding Tony and Cherie Blair’s failure to comment as to whether they had vaccinated their infant son Leo, and their foray into the world of homeopathy and New Age, is priceless. Ditto his description of how the scientific community dealt with the anti-vaccine campaign of a few years ago; here is an example from his chapter about the MMR (measles/mumps/rubella triple vaccine) hoax—“Emotive anecdotes from distressed parents were pitted against old duffers in corduroy, with no media training, talking about scientific data”. If nothing else, you get a good mental picture of stodgy old scientists who were totally clueless as to how they should counter the arguments against vaccinating children. Hence his campaign for the public understanding of science; it involves prodding scientists to explain their work clearly and concisely to the public as much as it does prodding the public to make a real effort to learn to understand how science is done. Ben Goldacre also writes a column for the British newspaper The Guardian, and otherwise a website that he updates regularly:  http://www.badscience.net/, both of them well-worth checking out. 

Summer cottage at Nesoddtangen

We are currently vacationing for a week at a summer cottage on Nesoddtangen (the tip of the Nesodden peninsula). We have rented this particular cottage many times during the past twenty years that I have lived in Norway. The cottage was willed to the cancer hospital where my husband works, like several others available for summer rentals, by patients who felt that they had received good treatment there. At present, there are at least six (perhaps more) such cottages available for rental; through my hospital the number is about the same. Some are cottages in the mountains; others are cottages on the sea. Our cottage, situated on the Oslo fjord, is about a twenty-five minute ferry ride from Oslo. It is far enough away from the city to get the feeling that one is out in the countryside, yet near enough to it via the ferry if there is reason to make the trip. In the ‘old days’ (early 1990s), we would sometimes take the ferry or our own boat into the city, to the Aker Brygge shopping area, to do some necessary grocery shopping, fill up on supplies, eat lunch at one of its many restaurants, or just walk around and window-shop. With our boat we were able to take longer boat trips around the Nesodden peninsula or to Drøbak, a lovely little coastal town about an hour’s boat ride from Nesoddtangen. One year we rented the cabin in September, even though we no longer were on vacation; we lived there for the week and went into work each day by boat. We would make a thermos of coffee for the trip and drink it on the way into Oslo harbor, shivering in the chilly autumn air.

Cottage at Nesoddtangen

The other night, as I sat writing in the cottage’s large living room, I noticed that storm clouds were gathering and the wind was picking up. I could hear it blowing around the cabin. It was only 7pm, but storm clouds filled the sky, threatening rain later on. The weather has been so unstable this summer; torrential rains one day followed by a day with hail and snow (in some areas of Oslo). That was last week. Other days are warm and sunny, like today, a real summer day, when the blue skies seem to go on forever. But as far as the weather goes, one needs to be prepared for all eventualities. After twenty years here, I have learned to take the weather in stride. 

Fireplace at the cottage

The first evening of our arrival at the cabin, it was chilly, so my husband lit a fire in the large red-brick fireplace in the corner of the living room. The fire’s warmth, topped off by a cup of hot chocolate, made everything alright with the world, and it didn’t matter if it was chilly outside in the middle of summer. The following day, the temperatures were warmer, although the sky was still a bluish-gray, dominated by large storm clouds--rain was predicted. During late afternoon, the winds pick up and don’t die down until around 8pm. Sometimes you can hear the wind blowing almost mournfully through the trees during the night, a sound that takes some getting used to, because it is so continual. And this year, unlike previous years, the cottage grounds are literally infested with brown Iberia snails; it’s difficult not to step on them. They have become quite a problem in recent years for the eastern part of Norway.

Brown snail on road

My early memories of being in Norway are bound up in visits to this cottage during the summers, in large festive parties that we managed to throw on meager budgets in the early days, pleasant times with relatives, friends, and their children. We often sat out until late in the evening, talking and laughing. It would be light outside until 11pm. Sometimes there was someone who played guitar, and we sang along. During the day, the children played along the shore, looking for mussels to crack open so that they could be used as bait for crabs. The crabs were always tossed back into the water; too small to eat. I used to love photographing the jellyfish—two kinds-brennmanet (Lion's mane jellyfish, which is a stinging jellyfish with long tentacles) and glassmanet (generally non-stinging). The former look like fried eggs sunny side up; the latter are fragile-looking, glassy in appearance, and quite beautiful with their green and pink hues. I love watching how they move and swim. I don’t see many of them this year, unfortunately. 

Brennmanet or Lion's mane jellyfish

Sometimes at night we would go down to the wharf where our boat was moored and look at the small bioluminescent creatures in the water (phytoplankton). They were like little dots of light flickering in the dark water, which was filled with them. During lazy afternoons we would go berry-picking; there were raspberry bushes in front and off to the side of the cottage (there are still a few) and along the road leading down to the ferry. If we were lucky we found wild strawberry bushes.

Much has changed during the past twenty or so years, in regard to the cottage itself as well as its visitors. When we first used to come here, drinking water had to be drawn up from a well, and drawing it up was hard work. The cottage had no bathroom—no shower or toilet; rather an outhouse that I do not remember fondly. I remember hating outhouses already as a young child; one of our favorite family picnic areas in Pound Ridge, New York had outhouses instead of regular bathrooms-- the outhouses themselves were unpleasant places to enter—dark and filled with flies, and the smell was awful and pervasive. Over the years, the outhouse at the cottage was replaced by what was called an environmental toilet located in a ‘bathroom’ of sorts attached to the house, and this year, to our (happy) surprise, that room has now been converted into a regular bathroom with a full shower, sink and toilet. Most ‘cottages’ now in Norway are quite luxurious (and not really cabins at all)—arrayed with all the trimmings—radiant floor heat, state-of-the-art kitchens and bathrooms, exemplifying the accumulation of personal wealth in this country over the past twenty years. People want convenience and comfort now. When it comes to having a nice bathroom, I am in that group. But otherwise, I am content with the simple trappings of this cottage. Many of the couples with whom we socialized early on are no longer together. Some have new partners and new lives, and are no longer in our circle. Those couples who are still together now vacation in warmer places—where sun and warmth are guaranteed. I can honestly understand their wish for sunshine, warmth, and stable summer weather. Sometimes I miss the old days though. Some relatives are quite elderly now, too frail to make the journey to visit us at the cottage. We make the journey to visit them instead. The children who used to come here are grown up now and will soon be having children of their own. My husband and I are alone at the cottage this week, enjoying our time alone, reading, writing (me), sleeping, shopping for groceries, watching TV in the late evenings, and being generally lazy. Time passes slowly, but it passes and moves us onward. Next week I will be in New York for my annual visit. When I remember back to our time at the cottage, during the wintertime perhaps, I will wonder what it was we did each day at the cottage. But then I look at photos and remember; today my husband picked wildflowers, yesterday we were able to barbecue, today we took a long boat trip, and so on. I look at him, at our life, and wonder how it is that more than twenty years have passed since we first got together, since I first moved to Norway. Time for reflection will do that to you; nostalgia, memories, common sense, acceptance of life, of aging, of watching the next generation take over for ours; all of these things seem more intense to me when I have the time to reflect upon them. It does not make me sad; it’s more that I register my tiny place in the scheme of things, in the universe, and my small contributions to the life around me. I have to say that things feel right with the world when you know where and how you fit into the scheme of things. It’s good to get perspective.

Fjord view from the cottage, with our wooden boat (mid-picture)

Sunset at Nesoddtangen and the docked passenger ferry

Wildflowers that my husband picked

A lovely poem by Walt Whitman

I wandered lonely as a cloud

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they
Out-did the sparkling leaves in glee;
A poet could not be but gay,
In such a jocund company!
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

A beautiful poem by A.E. Housman

LII.  Far in a western brookland 

(from A Shropshire Lad)

Far in a western brookland

  That bred me long ago

The poplars stand and tremble

  By pools I used to know.

There, in the windless night-time,

  The wanderer, marveling why,

Halts on the bridge to hearken

  How soft the poplars sigh.

He hears: no more remembered

  In fields where I was known,

Here I lie down in London

  And turn to rest alone.

There, by the starlit fences,

  The wanderer halts and hears

My soul that lingers sighing

  About the glimmering weirs.

One year later: impressions and reflections

Oslo is quiet today; there is an unusual stillness. I went for a long bike ride earlier and I could just feel the stillness. As though there is just an implicit understanding that today is a day for stillness and reflection, for remembering and honoring those men and women whose lives were so tragically lost last year in the senseless killings on 7/22.

Last year there was a sea of flowers in front of the Domkirke. There is talk in the newspapers that perhaps this will happen again this year, as people seem to be drawn to the church. It makes sense—that perhaps we seek to be present in places that offer comfort and understanding, and some kind of sense in the midst of all that doesn’t make sense. There will be a memorial concert later on tonight. I am not planning on attending, but many thousands of people are expected to participate. Perhaps I will watch it on TV.

The priest at mass this morning spoke about the importance of taking time in our daily lives to sit in silence and to reflect—to travel into ourselves as he put it—in order to be challenged by the questions that silence and reflection offer us. It makes sense to me. We cannot reflect on the things that happen around us and in our own lives, cannot deal with them adequately, without that solitude and reflection. Many people are afraid of solitude and time for reflection; such a needless fear. We learn to know ourselves that way, and that can only be a good thing.

How sad that only a few days ago, that Colorado experienced yet again a horrific shooting rampage in a movie theater, which killed and injured many people. How is it that this type of weaponry ends up in the hands of those who are hell-bent on destruction? What do gun-shop owners think when a young man comes in with a request for these types of automatic weapons? I’m just wondering. I am tired of hearing the often-repeated expression when these types of tragedies occur, that ‘guns don’t kill people, people kill people’. It’s not true. Guns purchased legally by people who have a hate agenda, do kill people, and the automatic rifles that these murderers use kill many people in a very short time. I have a problem understanding that these types of guns could at all be used to hunt animals. God help the animals, is all I can say. And God help us all if we continue to permit these guns to be sold legally. I know the argument goes that if such gun sales are made illegal, that young men like Anders Behring Breivik and James Holmes will get a hold of them anyway. But you know what, maybe they wouldn’t have--maybe they would have encountered many more obstacles along the way, and maybe the tragedies could have been prevented. I’m just wondering. And hoping for change to the guns laws.

The vagaries of permanent resident status

When I first moved to Norway, I had to apply for a residence permit each year that allowed me to live and work in the country, and that involved having my employer fill out a form outlining my job description, with major emphasis on the fact that I was the only person who could fill that job. My employer had to state and defend that there were few to no Norwegians who could fill that position as well as I could. After three years of this requirement, which meant waiting in long lines each year at the local police station for my passport to be stamped, I was eligible for a permanent residency permit. I had no trouble obtaining that. It meant that I no longer had to wait in long lines each year to renew my residence permit. My American passport reflected my permanent residency status with a sticker called 'bosettingstillatelse', which as far as I remember, gave me permission to work in Norway as well as in Sweden and Denmark. I was extremely happy the day I got my permanent residency status in the early 1990s. 

Recently, the rules changed, and now foreigners are required to have a residence card that they must carry with them when they travel in addition to their passports. Here is what is stated on the Norwegian Directorate of Immigration website:

               

“The residence card is proof that you hold a residence permit in Norway. The card replaces the stickers that were previously affixed to your passport.”

But what I need now is an explanation for why I have to renew my residence permit every two years, as I have done now for the past four or five years, if I have permanent resident status? I have no idea if I still have permanent resident status or if it has changed to non-permanent for some reason. This is what is written on the Norwegian Directorate of Immigration website; I hope it makes more sense to you than it does to me:

               

“How long is the card valid for? In principle, the card is valid for the same period as your permit. If you hold a permanent residence permit, the card will be valid for two years at a time.”

I have to say that I really don’t understand this; my interpretation is that permanent residence means two years’ residence at a time, and in my book, this is tantamount to temporary residence, not permanent. The last time I was at the Foreign Office (a few weeks ago), the man sitting behind the information desk was impatient, rude and generally not helpful. No answers or explanations to be gotten from him. I was just another nuisance, another foreigner that he didn’t feel like dealing with. Whether that was really what he thought, I don’t know—it just felt like that. Just a wave of the hand and a disgusted look to indicate where I should stand to wait my turn to make an appointment to see an officer who could create a residence permit card for me with my photo and fingerprints on it. I told them I needed it before the end of July as I was traveling outside of Norway in August, and I was told I had to bring my airline ticket with me to my appointment in order for me to get the card before I traveled. So many people apparently lie about needing their card immediately, so that I was looked upon as another potential liar. I didn’t have a problem producing the airline ticket, so I got my card today in the mail.

I decided many years ago not to obtain Norwegian citizenship, because it meant that I had to give up my American citizenship, something I would never do. Norway does not allow dual citizenship, whereas the USA does. So if my husband and I moved to the USA, he could keep his Norwegian citizenship as well as become an American citizen if he wanted to. Generous of my country, I have to admit, and that makes me proud of my country. I have no idea why Norway does not allow dual citizenship, but the fact that they do not only serves to strengthen my resolve to keep my American citizenship at all costs. Had Norway allowed dual citizenship, then I might have chosen to become a citizen, but I have never regretted my decision not to become a Norwegian citizen in all the years I have lived here. It would certainly have made my life easier in terms of not having to apply every two years for permission to remain in this country, as is the case now, even though I did get permanent residence status in the early 1990s. I suppose I should look into what it all means and why my status changed (if it did), and I will. In time. Perhaps the next time I have to renew my residence status. I simply want to avoid having to stand in long lines to make appointments to see officers and councilors who will advise me on what forms I need to fill out. I want to avoid sterile offices and paper-pushing--all the trappings of bureaucratic claustrophobia.  

Street performers in Berlin

Enjoyed watching these street performers when we were in Berlin recently. Pretty talented guys who drew quite a crowd. A throwback to my days in New York City and San Francisco, where these types of performances, accompanied by urban music, were not uncommon. 

Tiergarten in Berlin

Tiergarten, a large public park in Berlin, is translated as ’animal garden’ because it was originally designed as a hunting area for the king in the 1500s. At present, it is a lovely urban park for the citizens of Berlin, and about the only (visible) animals that frequent the park are rabbits. In fact, there are so many rabbits (and apparently they are so destructive to the flower gardens in the park) that several of the park’s small gardens are closed off with barriers to both the public and the rabbits. When we were walking around in Tiergarten recently, I noticed mounds of earth here and there, and wondered what they were. Now I know. Rabbits are energetic little creatures, God love them, but their activities are destructive to flower and vegetable gardens. I wonder if the barriers do manage to keep the rabbits out. The flower gardens appeared to be in good shape, so perhaps the barriers are working. But for how long?

Tiergarten is well-described on Wikipedia at this link: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gro%C3%9Fer_Tiergarten, so I won’t include much more in the way of descriptions in this post. I am posting some photos I took in the garden. The day we were there was a hot sweltering summer day, and the sunlight was very strong. The photos have an unusual, almost shimmering look to them—you know it’s summertime when you take a close look at them. But the heat wasn’t unbearable, and it was in fact nice to walk in the shadows of the many trees in the garden. 

Monday morning in Oslo

Update on the weather—about the same as it’s been the past few days. Raining today; it rained yesterday (although it cleared up nicely last evening—long enough for me to get in a bike ride), and it rained a bit on Saturday as well. But we enjoyed two restaurant visits in spite of the weather, sitting indoors of course—on Friday evening at Mucho Mas for excellent Mexican food, and on Saturday evening we found our way to Jonoe at Ringnes Park for some excellent sushi. We’re on vacation now for the next four weeks, so it’s only to pray for some nice weather. I hope whoever created the Higgs boson is listening to our prayers!!

I saw an article today in Britain’s newspaper The Guardian, that the weather in England isn’t much better than here. Rain, and lots of it. And more to come. That’s what’s predicted for Oslo this week. So I guess I better tackle my indoor projects that are waiting for me. No time like the present! Still working on my photo and writing projects, so I guess I won’t complain (too much) about the weather. I’ve sorted through my recent photos and organized them. I’ve created a few photo blog posts and written a few posts for my other blogs. The house is in order, household tasks are mostly done, and now I can read and write to my heart’s content.

The USA is experiencing one of the worst heat waves on record, with temperatures over 100 degrees Fahrenheit. I can attest to that, as I grew up in New York, and I can only remember one or two summers in my growing up when the temperatures even approached 100 degrees Fahrenheit (about 38 degrees Celsius) or went slightly over that temperature. New York summers were always warm and humid though, and it was nice to come inside to an air-conditioned home or office to cool down. Or perhaps we ran through someone’s sprinkler to cool down; I remember doing this often as a child. There were always some homeowners who were watering their lawns and who didn’t mind that we ran through their sprinklers. I remember some wicked New York thunderstorms, with intense thunder and a lot of lightning, followed by torrential rains. And then, the storm was over and the sun came out and life went back to summer normal. But when I talk to family and friends now about the weather in New York, many of them say it’s nothing like it was when we were young. So I have to conclude that either we all have collectively bad memories, or that weather patterns have definitely changed. Whether the changes are natural or the result of global warming, I cannot say. But I can also say that summers in Oslo are not like they were in the early 1990s when I first moved here, so I really do believe that weather patterns are changing. I can remember longer periods with sunshine in June and July in Oslo, where it was possible to go out on the boat without being drenched by a sudden rainstorm. It’s harder to trust that there will be stable weather now, anywhere.

Berlin poster ads

Berlin's East Side Gallery

I mentioned in my last post that I would be posting some photos of Berlin's East Side Gallery, which is a 1.3 km long section of the Berlin Wall that consists of 105 paintings by artists from all over the world. All of the paintings are unique and beautiful in their own way, so the fact that I have chosen ten of them in no way suggests that these were the best. But they were ten paintings that have a dramatic flair about them, many of them are colorful, and they get their message across very clearly. 

If you are in Berlin, visit this wonderful outdoor gallery. As I wrote previously, it has to be experienced in person in order to get the full effect of the immensity of what the wall represented and what the fall of the wall opened up. I normally copyright my photos, but have not done so this time, as these paintings are not mine. They belong to the world, and it was a privilege to experience them. 

Sunday evening in Berlin

11 pm in Berlin—sitting in our room at the Hotel Palace Berlin and listening to the celebrations in the streets outside—cars honking and people cheering. Spain just won the UEFA soccer cup; they beat Italy 4-0. The other night it was the Italians cheering in the streets after having beaten Germany. Now midnight, and the celebrations continue…….

Dinner tonight was pasta at a restaurant called Noah’s, where our friendly waiter, after noticing that I had finished a particularly spicy penne all’ arrabbiata dish, commented that I had done a ‘good job’ since I had finished it despite its numbing effects on my lips and tongue. It was very good, even though it was probably the hottest version of this dish that I have ever consumed. Sat outdoors and just breathed in the scent of the linden trees, and enjoyed the warmth of the summer evening.

Spent some time sorting through all my photos of Berlin and Leipzig (about eight hundred or so). What would we do without digital cameras these days? I cannot even remember what it was like to use film, although I do remember some trips in the 1990s when I took a few hundred photos using film. Many of my photos of Berlin this week came out really well, especially photos of the East Side Gallery—a 1.3 km long section of the Berlin Wall that consists of 105 paintings by artists from all over the world; it is located on Mühlenstraße in the Friedrichshain-Kreuzberg district. It has to be experienced—the paintings are incredible. I’ll be posting some photos from this exhibit shortly.

Reflecting on our stay here in Berlin. We’ve done the Berlin Wall walking tour; what struck me was how this part of history was also a part of my generation—we grew up hearing about the Berlin Wall and reading newspaper articles about the misery associated with its existence, and then experiencing the fall of the wall in 1989. Visiting the Chapel of Reconciliation was particularly moving; this chapel was built on the site of the old Church of Reconciliation (Versöhnungskirche) on Bernauer Straße in the Mitte district of Berlin. The chapel had a black-and-white photo exhibition until the end of June (we caught it just in time) called Mauerkinder (translation ‘Wall Children’) by Thomas Hoepker, which was emotionally-wrenching to see, mostly because the children, photographed during the early 1960s, seemed so unaware of what horrors were going on around them--innocents in a world that had become hell.

Thinking about the sparrows that are in abundance in this city; like sparrows everywhere, they are nearly tame, and will take a piece of bread right out of your fingers. We watched a number of them help themselves to one young man’s French fries while we sat eating our hamburgers at Burger King. Then there was the caged crow at the Berlin Zoo, who ‘talked’ to me while we stood there and watched him, and who followed me in his cage as I walked away, cawing loudly. It’s tough to see birds and animals in cages; I have mixed feelings about zoos, more so now that I am older. You wish for them what you would wish for yourself—the freedom to live an unfettered life. I know it’s not always possible, and yet, it’s still a wish. A wish for animals and birds, and a wish for mankind too, especially for those individuals who suffer at the hands of dictators and totalitarian regimes. 

A New Yorker in Germany

This week I am A New Yorker in Germany. After many years of driving through Germany on the way to visit and vacation in other European countries, I decided it was time to explore Germany. As luck would have it, the International Society for Advancement of Cytometry (ISAC) CYTO 2012 conference (http://cytoconference.org/CYTO/pages/default.aspx) took place in Leipzig, Germany this past week, and my husband and I were in attendance, along with some of our Norwegian colleagues. What is always nice for me about these particular international conferences is that I end up meeting American colleagues from the different places where I have previously worked—Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center and the University of California at San Francisco. This time around was no exception—it was a pleasure to catch up with earlier colleagues like Zbigniew, Bill, and Claudia. The ISAC conferences are special for me, because it was at one of them, in Cambridge, England, that I met my husband for the first time, and for the second time when the annual conference was held in Breckenridge, Colorado. After that, we became a couple and have since attended many other such conferences together. The society has evolved through the years to meet the changing needs of its members, but remains at its core a flow cytometry society, although it now embraces image cytometry and mass spectroscopy as it moves into the future.  

As a pre-teen and teenager, I had a pen pal in New Zealand, by the name of Lillian. We wrote to each other from the time we were twelve years old until we were about sixteen, at which point the letters stopped. But I had learned a lot about New Zealand and her about the USA during that time. When I last heard from her, she had decided to take a job working on the New Zealand railroad. I still treasure the small gifts I received from her—volcanic sand and a hei-tiki necklace (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hei-tiki). I was reminded of her this past week because I had the pleasure of talking to a new conference attendee from New Zealand by the name of Kylie—it was a pleasure to meet her. Meeting her reminded me of what these conferences are really all about—encountering new people and forming new networks and connections. But it was our conversation about New Zealand films and also about how the New Zealand government has worked hard to integrate the Māori people, that I remember most. I want to find some of the films she mentioned, and to read a bit more about New Zealand society generally.

It is true what the Dalai Lama says— ‘Once a year, go someplace you’ve never been before’. Because you never know who you’re going to meet, or what kind of experiences you’ll walk away with. This by itself—the excitement of unwrapping the unknown—is worth the time it takes to travel to new places. It doesn’t matter if the purpose of the trip is business or vacation. It is about staying open to the world around us. I’ll be writing more about Germany in coming posts. I’m happy we finally decided to spend some time here. From what I’ve seen so far, it is a fascinating country of contrasts.   

Norwegian Wood festival website and Facebook site

For those of you who want to know more about the Norwegian Wood four-day music festival that takes place in Oslo each year in June, you can find information on their website: http://www.norwegianwood.no/

They are also on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/pages/NORWEGIAN-WOOD-FESTIVALEN/115503931808030

Check these sites out. Each year there are a lot of good bands and artists that make their way to Frogner Bad in Oslo's Frogner Park. You can read about who has performed at this festival previously on the website.

Sting and The Hounds of Winter at Norwegian Wood 2012

I had the pleasure of hearing Sting last night at a packed Norwegian Wood. I got hooked on The Police songs very early, but never got to hear the band live. So it was good to finally get to hear Sting. This was his playlist last night:

·         All this time

·         Every little thing she does is magic

·         Englishman in New York

·         Seven days

·         Demolition man

·         I hung my head

·         Driven to tears

·         Fields of gold

·         Message in a bottle

·         Synchronicity

·         Shape of my heart

·         Love is stronger than justice (The munificent seven)

·         The hounds of winter

·         The end of the game

·         Never coming home

·         Desert rose

·         King of pain

·         Every breath you take

·         Next to you

He did a great version of ‘The Hounds of Winter’. My God, what a fantastic song—beautiful haunting lyrics and melody. The background vocals last night were done by a young woman who had an incredible voice—her voice sent chills down my spine. Lovely. I’m including the lyrics to the song here (pure poetry), along with aYouTube video of the song above.

The Hounds Of Winter    by Sting

Mercury falling

I rise from my bed,

Collect my thoughts together

I have to hold my head

It seems that she's gone

And somehow I am pinned by

The Hounds of Winter

Howling in the wind

I walk through the day

My coat around my ears

I look for my companion

I have to dry my tears

It seems that she's gone

Leaving me too soon

I'm as dark as December

I'm as cold as the Man in the Moon

I still see her face

As beautiful as day

It's easy to remember

Remember my love that way

All I hear is that lonesome sound

The Hounds of Winter

They follow me down

I can't make up the fire

The way that she could

I spend all my days

In the search for dry wood

Board all the windows and close the front door

I can't believe she won't be here anymore

I still see her face

As beautiful as day

It's easy to remember

Remember my love that way

All I hear is that lonesome sound

The Hounds of Winter

They follow me down

A season for joy

A season for sorrow

Where she's gone

I will surely, surely follow

She brightened my day

She warmed the coldest night

The Hounds of Winter

They got me in their sights

I still see her face

As beautiful as day

It's easy to remember

Remember my love that way

All I hear is that lonesome sound

The Hounds of Winter

They harry me down