A lost city and a lost guide

Along the trail to Choquequirao

Nearing a vista point

One of the great rewards of visiting Cusco is trekking to one of the stunning Inca cities nearby.  Unlike most visitors to Cusco, who come to visit Machu Pichu, Jorge and I have already been to Machu Pichu, and set out this time to vist Choquequirao.  Like Machu Pichu, Choquequirao was an imperial Inca city that was lost for many years until it was rediscovered earlier this century.  Unlike Machu Pichu, which is close to a train line and can have a thousand visitors per day, getting to Choquequirao requires two days of strenuous hiking.  In the high season, it might have as many as 20 visitors per day.  And November is not the high season.

Air plants in the trees

Our party consisted of three trekkers: myself, Jorge, and Beatrice from France: one of those Frenchwomen who seem to do everything superbly, and manage to look elegant in outdoor gear.  We met up with Simon, our guide, in Cusco sometime before dawn.  About five hours later, a bus dropped us off at the turnoff to the road to Cachora, the start of our trek.  There, we learned that there were no taxis to take us to Cachora, because all the taxis were off at the "taxi competition".  I don't know what a taxi competition is, but the concept fascinates me...  Finally we got to Cachora and met up with the rest of our party: Nilo, our arriero (mule driver) and cook, and three mules.   After Nilo fed us a substantial lunch, we started hiking.  The terrain was spectacular!  The Incas worshipped "apus", mountain gods, as do their modern-day Quechua descendants, and Choquequirao is situated near the home of many apus.

Padrayoc at 5500m

We stopped for the night at a farm about five hours away, where "cuy" (guinea pigs, a local specialty) scurried around the kitchen floor, and the bathrooms had actual flush toilets.  Except there was a catch.  As we prepared to leave in the morning, the campesina who runs the farm approached each of us to demand a payment of 1 sol for our use of the bathrooms - to our surprise!  Since it seemed like we had little choice, we paid, and Beatrice laid into Simon saying that she'd paid $230 for an all-inclusive trip and was not paying another sol!  That was when Jorge and I decided not to tell her that we'd paid $195 apiece...

Simon and Nilo unloading the mules

The main plaza of Choquequirao from above

Our day's hike began with a descent to the Apuimac river, where the last bridge had been washed away  in a storm, and we would cross in a small basket hanging from a cable - which was fun!  What wasn't fun was what awaited on the other side: 2000 meters of sustained uphill... But, Jorge and I made good time, and by 10:30am we were at the Choquequirao entrance station: first visitors of the day!  About 45 exhausting minutes later, we finally reached Choquequirao's plaza, where we collapsed on the grass and took in our first views of the ancient city from a prone position.  About half an hour later, we were met by Simon and Beatrice, who also collapsed upon arriving.  Simon told us that of all the treks he leads, Choquequirao is probably his least favorite, as the most strenuous.  In high season, when the agency calls him about leading a trek to Choquequirao, he claims he's busy, but in the off season he has no such luxury.  Worse yet, we set a faster pace than any of his previous groups.  His normal parties stop for lunch and a rest break in Marampata, where we'd be camping that night, and don't reach Choquequirao until mid-afternoon.  We were having none of that, and insisted instead on going directly to the ruins with sandwiches for lunch!  Beatrice in particular had been adamant about reminding Simon and Nilo that morning to give us each two sandwiches.  Simon had said to Nilo, "Got that - TWO sandwiches", which made us wonder whether he'd intended to give us three.

Imperial buildings and a tired trekker

I've visited many ancient ruins in my time, but there was something especially evocative about Choquequirao.  Walking around the ruins made me feel like I was in a post-apocalyptic fantasy novel, and was encountering what little was left of a thriving place I'd once known.  The buildings are beautiful and the site is fascinating, but the whole place has a certain eeriness to it.  But maybe that was from the lack of other people.  There was one other party we saw when we'd arrived (they'd probably camped in the campsite just below), but then they disappeared, leaving us alone with the ruins.

Religious buildings with the truncated hill in the background

Simon said that most parties spend 2-3 hours in the ruins.  We spent about 6.  Finally when the sun was getting low and our guide and trek-mate were both clearly exhausted, we called it a day.  A few minutes after we got back to the camp - by headlamp - dinner was ready for us.  Ah, the wonders of trekking!

The llama terraces, just rediscovered in 2005

After breakfast the next morning, Simon instructed us to start walking, and said that Nilo and Don Justo would help us get across the river (Don Justo was our arriero on the far side of the river - since the mules can't exactly cross in the hanging basket, we had to change mules when we crossed the river).  Jorge and I got to the river a couple hours later, with Beatrice just behind us.  When we looked across the river at the trail coming down - which we could see for miles - we saw no sign of Simon.  We continued to our designated lunch spot, where Nilo prepared us a delicious lunch.  No sign of Simon.  Beatrice remembered an independent party that was camping at the same place as us the night before, and how Simon seemed to be helping them out, and speculated that he decided to pick up some extra money by guiding them to the ruins for half a day.  So mischievously, we all decided that rather than camp that night in the place Simon had picked out, we'd push on farther...   Our new campsite was just past the high pass between us and Cachora.  As we were plodding up the last switchbacks before the pass, along came Simon at a run!  When he caught up with us, he apologized saying that he'd had knee trouble and hip trouble on the descent to the river, something a bit hard to believe in someone who'd managed to run uphill on the other side...  He was obviously exhausted!  When Nilo had met us that day, he'd brought a horse and two mules instead of three mules, since there wasn't so much food to carry and there was a good chance that someone would need to ride up the hill.  Well, that someone ended up being Simon!  It must've been a hefty blow to his guide ego to get on the horse while everyone else walked, but at least he made it to the to camp!

At the top of the pass, with Choquequirao in the background

By that point, Beatrice and Simon were actively avoiding each other.  Over lunch, Nilo had mentioned that the rations seemed spartan compared to other trips he's worked on.  After Simon caught up with us, Beatrice confronted him about that.  When he said that it was because we'd signed up for the inexpensive, no-frills tour, she replied (in Spanish) "Well, obviously!".  Sometimes, it's an advantage to have a language barrier - you don't have to hide your laughter!

A perfect campsite, except the water could be closer

As the sun got lower, the peaks around us turned a vivid orange (WHY is there no Spanish word for alpenglow!?).  We passed a gorgeous campsite with a panoramic view of the peaks, but no water.  One km later, we reached our campsite, which was close to water, but seemed to have no place off the road to pitch the tents.  So, the tents went up in the middle of the road!  It was after dark by then, and we'd planned to set off early the next morning, so Jorge wagered that no one would come down the road before we left.  I disagreed.  At about four in the morning, I won my bet when we were awakened by the sound of mules walking past our heads!

Returning to Cachora

Because we'd already covered so much ground, our last day's hiking was just a short, pleasant stroll back to Cachora.  About two hours later, we climbed onto a big, cushy bus for a relaxing ride back to Cusco.

How I became a rock star

By now, I've had my photo taken with countless students!

At the meeting, students have been lining up to have their pictures taken with me.  In my professional life, this is a first!

This conference is for education of undergraduate pharmacy students from all over Peru.  The undergrads here are awesome!  Peru's public universities are free, and admission is very competitive (the acceptance rate is 1%), so the students who make it into the university are sharp and dedicated.  This conference is a big deal to them, and it's also a big deal that us visiting lecturers are here - especially those of us who've come from afar.

Conferencistos at the gala opening dinner!

The student organizers were dressed superbly for the opening gala

There are about thirty "Conferencistos" (lecturers), most of whom are staying at my hotel.  Most are from Peru, about a dozen are from other parts of Latin America, and Wolfgang Sadee and I are from America.  All conferencistos have been getting the royal treatment!  Every day, a group of well-dressed undergrads meets us at the hotel in the morning to take us to the university by taxi.  At lunchtime, we go back to the hotel with a well-dressed student guide, and we're taken out for lunch together.  In the evenings, we're taken out for dinner together.  And when we go out for events, we get prime seats.  One evening, the conference featured a truly amazing traditional dance recital in which groups of students from each region performed their traditional dances.  The recital was in a gymnasium.  When we arrived, I figured we'd sit in the bleachers with the students, until we were guided to a line of chairs set in front of the bleachers.  While we watched, our student guides fetched us glasses of water and plates of goodies.  At the closing ceremony, each of us was called up to the stage to receive a "diploma".  I'm pretty certain that at my next conference, the TCGA symposium, nothing like this will happen...

As the exotic imports, Wolfgang and I seem to get something even more than royal treatment.  Professors Ricardo and Carlos have spent a lot of time showing us around the city and making sure we're enjoying ourselves.  When we had a free hour before my plenary lecture, Ricardo took us to the Inca museum, and were admitted without charge as honored conferencistos; he went to say hello to a gentlemen in a suit in a museum office, much shaking of hands and slapping of backs ensued, and we were given special welcome to enjoy the museum.    We toured the museum while Ricardo coordinated the world via cell phone.  About an hour later, when my lecture was scheduled to start in about ten minutes, we suggested that maybe it was time we head back, and Ricardo told us that the schedule was running late and we had another half hour.  Finally, we took a taxi to the conference center, arrived a few minutes before my lecture was due to start, and left a few minutes afterwards.  Compared to most conferences I go to, where the speakers are expected to be around to talk, the rules are different here.

A kiss from a devil

As a gringa,  I get even a notch above Wolfgang's treatment.  I've been getting the first seat in the first taxi, I was the first one seated at the gala opening dinner, and at the gala I was seated at the front end of the table.  This gave me a great view of the Peruvian folk dancers who performed after dinner.  It also made it easy for a Diablo dancer to single me out with a kiss.  I'd seen Ricardo making signals to the dancer, and was thinking "uh oh, what now...?"

The flip side of being the exotic import is that I'm the weirdo foreigner, the one who's always out of step culturally and doesn't speak the language well.  When I had a moment of nervousness, my friends reminded me that I'd be fine, I am unique.  I replied that I've never felt so unique in my whole professional life!  Happily, the others have made me feel comfortable, and have indulged me patiently while I've struggled to chat in Spanish.

Conferencistos in the magnificent restaurant where we've been dined

At this conference, my duty has been to give an 8 hour systems biology workshop, spread out over four mornings, and a plenary lecture.  My students were an utterly an outstanding - if small - group.  25 students had signed up for my workshop.  Ultimately, I had three (for one hour, that was up to four).  In part, this reflects the early hour of the lecture, 8-10am for four mornings in a row.  But, I'm also told that this is utterly Peruvian: one could have 25 students sign up and 4 show up, and next time one could have 4 students sign up and 25 show up.  In addition to  Wolfgang and Ricardo.   Naturally, the two professors were my worst students, the ones who can never just follow directions during the hands-on exercises!

Now, the conference is over, Jorge is due to arrive at any minute, and the next phase of this adventure is due to begin!

Photos, at last!

The cathedral in the Plaza De Armas

Cusco looking incredibly lovely in the evening

I set out to merely take a picture of a mannequin in a traditional costume.  But no, Ricardo insisted that I should get in the picture with the mannequin - and pose!

A religious procession in the Plaza de Armas today

This Inca wall features an intricate jigsaw pattern of rocks.  Inca walls are held together without mortar, sheerly by the rocks being shaped to fit each other perfectly.

Today, I've moved uptown.  The conference had arranged for me to stay in a fancy hotel near the plaza.  There are two striking things about the hotel: in-room wifi and history.  The in-room wifi speaks for itself.  As for history, this hotel, Hotel Garcilaso, was once home to the famed local historian El Inca Garcilaso de la Vega.  The hotel still featues beautiful colonial architecture.  Sipping mate de coca in his old courtyard gives one a sense of wonder.

Mi Ponencia

On Friday, I had my last session with my Spanish tutor, Lyda.  After 20 hours, I´d absorbed enough Spanish that filling out the evaluation forms in English felt unnatural. My Spanish is halting and full of grammatical errors, but I can make myself understood much better now.

I´ve also been learning more vocabulary for my situation. Today is the first day of el congreso (the conference), where I will give a una conferencia (a workshop) y una ponencia (a presentation).  I knew that I´d be giving the 8 hour workshop (to about 25 students), and that´s all prepared. I also knew that there was something more that I would be doing, but it wasn´t clear exactly what.  The email from the conference organizers said that I´d do the workshop for two hours in the morning, and a 45 minute "conference", and I´d wondered if that was some networking event I was expected at.  Then, all became clear when Ricardo showed me my name on the conference schedule, said that there would be about 1000 people in the audience, and asked me for the title of my presentation!  I´m proud of what happened next: without blinking, I told him that I´d speak on systems biology in cancer research. Then when I got back to my computer, I took a quick inventory of the presentations I already have (by other people in my group) on systems biology in cancer resarch, and looked at where I would need to fill in some holes. I emailed a plea for help to Charlie, creator of a beautiful method called Paradigm, asking for more background material.  Charlie, my hero, promptly prepared for me a hefty zip file full of presentation material complete with speaker notes and had it ready for me to download within a couple hours of my plea, despite the fact that he was flying out of town!  Thanks to Charlie - and to Ted, Josh, and Evan, who´d already shared some of their material with me - I´m now prepared to give a great 45 presentation!  It´s great to work with talented people!

In between studying Spanish and preparing a workshop and presentation, I´ve been seeing a little of Cusco with a local guide!  Ricardo has been a wonderful guide, and has been generous with his time.  He is Cusceño, seems proud of his city, and seems to enjoy sharing its sights. He also knows what public buildings one can stroll through in the evening for a look at some beautiful artwork, and the places where one can and cannot walk in reasonable safety (which can be a difference of a couple blocks).  An extra bonus for me is that a gringa accompanied by another person is less of a target than a gringa traveling alone, and a gringa with a Peruvian is even less of a target than a gringa with another foreigner. Locals also know the secret codes of how and when to cross busy streets. Last night, I met Ricardo´s girlfriend Jacqueline, who is beautiful, warm, and intelligent (lucky guy, Ricardo!). At one point as we were crossing a busy street, she took my elbow to guide me across, saying "I´ve known the streets here longer than you".    

What have I seen?  On Wednesday, after Ricardo and I finished working, we went to the Plaza Des Armas, the main square of the city, for a fresh juice (one of the local specialties, the climate here seems harsh, but there are a lot of microclimates and many things grow well somewhere nearby) and a stroll.  As we were strolling past the cathedral, I asked about some strange looking scuptures outside. It turned out that they were fireworks, to be set off in about an hour!  The occasion was some sort of recital or festival of school bands.  When we saw the fireworks an hour later, it was amazing!  The fireworks going off in front of the cathedral made for an unspeakably lovely sight - and there I was, still, with no camera!  I had to laugh, because unlike firework displays in America, the land of liability, these fireworks were going off just a short distance from the crowd, with ashes flying dangerously close to the spectators!  For the climax, a person in a bull costume ran through the crowd carrying a firework shooting off sparks in each hand!  I survived intact. I´d already had my brush with death in the shower that morning (ah, nothing like South American on-demand electric hot showers, with live wires sticking out from them!).  But then, I decided that I was just going to carry my camera with me the next day!

The next day, my Spanish tutor Lyda took me to the market - but warned me not to take pictures, because the locals (understandably) don´t enjoy feeling like animals in a zoo.  The market was an amazing sight, although I´ll have to rely on my own memory.  There were numerous stands for fresh juice of many sorts.  There was corn and potato in a rainbow of colors.  And there were frogs!  Lyda says that "jugo de rana" (frog juice) and "caldo de rana" (frog soup) are local specialties, although not ones she cares for or recommends!  Ricardo says that in traditional medicine, jugo de rana and caldo de rana are favored treatments for mental instability.  He says that there is also sceintific basis for the tradition: frogs are rich in phosphorous, and the brain requires phosphorous for healthy function!  All of this makes me imagine what it must be like to have your family members pour frog into you at a time when you´re already feeling mentally shaky - is the treatment worse than the affliction?  I´m not going to offer any first-hand accounts, sorry!

What happens when you go out without a camera

Most tourists who are robbed in Peru are robbed in Cusco.  The pickpockets work with partners who have elevated the act of distracting their prey to an art form. Then there are bag-slashers, fake taxis, bag-snatching motorcyclists, and so many others who´ve become skilled at separating tourists from their valuables (today as I was walking down the street with Ricardo, I noticed that he carefully positioned himself between me and the traffic). The prevailing wisdom is to leave your valuables somewhere safe, and go out with only what you need for the day. So when Lyda suggested that we should take a language study field trip to the market, I considered bringing my camera but decided against it.  So what did I find when I arrived at the language school, with half an hour to spare, and no camera? A traditional funeral procession!  The casket was carried for many blocks on the shoulders of six hefty-looking pallbearers.  Were they hired, or does everyone need to make sure they leave behind a quorum of strong young men in their circle of friends?  The casket was followed by mourners dressed in black and throwing handfuls of flower petals, and a brass band playing lively music.  It was like a New Orleans jazz funeral, with different music.  You never see stuff like that when you have your camera ready!  So ironically, I was glad that mine was back at home.  Lyda and I will finally go to the market tomorrow, perhaps without a camera.

Today I visited Ricardo´s university and saw the computer lab where I will be teaching. Ricardo was once again in a suit, while I was in a trekking shirt I´d purchased used at The Thrift Center.  The door is secured with metal grates and a heavy chain and padlock worthy of a corner store in the hood.  Inside were about 30 PCs running Windows in Spanish. I was helpless!  I can barely figure out how to do anything on an English version of Windows.  With help, I got my teaching material loaded onto the hard disk of the instructor´s machine.  Then when it came time to run through a test Powerpoint slideshow, I was utterly lost trying to figure out first what menu to look under and then what the right words would be if I even found them!  All the while, two student organizers watched with bemusement as the struggling of the imported expert was broadcast onto the large screen in the front of the classroom.  At least I learned one thing today: where to find the magic "Start Slideshow" icon.

As we left, we stopped to watch a group of students practicing a traditional Andean dance.  To me, that was much more interesting than most of the fancy performance venues that my dollars can get me into.  And once again, I had no camera.

Getting Here

In the middle of the night, I disembarked in the Lima airport with a mixture of excitement and dread.  I had six hours - from midnight until 6am - to spend in a place I remember as unrestrained chaos, where Jorge and I previously broke all the main rules of travel within an hour of arrival.  Customs and immigration killed only an hour, even with the nearsightedness test which is the Peruvian immigration form (I barely passed).  Luckily, the LAN terminal was not Lima at its worst.  I waited in a quiet corner of the food court, with a fundamentalist minister from Virginia who believes in intelligent design.

In Cusco, my airport rendezvous worked!  My language school, Projecto Peru, arranged a homestay for me at "Casa Gloria", the home of Willy and Gloria, where I get comfortable lodgings, three delicious meals per day, and great company for the price of a flea-bag motel room in California.  Willy met me at the airport, as I was just waking up from finally getting one hour of sleep.  He brought me back to Casa Gloria for a quick settling in and a quick breakfast. Then, to my dismay, I was whisked off to my first language lesson without a chance for a nap!  I swilled strong instant coffee, met my tutor Lyda, and muscled through hours of ser and estar with hopes that sleep deprivation would somehow make my mind more permeable.  Finally, I went back to Casa Gloria, ate a superb lunch, and had a long nap.

Later, I met Ricardo, the pharmacy professor who arranged to bring me here.  Over email, he told me that he´d fallen in love with systems biology, although falling in love seemed silly for a man of his age.  I replied that new love at any age is worthy of celebration.  Some time before that, Ricardo read a paper on which I was the first author, and contacted both me and the senior author with questions. I replied. The senior author didn´t.  Now, I am here and he is not.  Trey Ideker, thank you!

When Ricardo showed up in pin-striped suit, I truly knew I wasn´t in Santa Cruz anymore!  This may be typical academic attire here.  I was aware of this when I packed to come here and deliver a workshop, and packed accordingly.  Sort of. Let´s just say that it turns out that I own two polypro tops that can pass as dressy shirts when worn with just the right accessories, and those tops and accessories are now in Casa Gloria.

Happy 2012, everyone!  Here's wishing you all the best.

Me and my "altera sorora" Jeanne

This year, I actually rang in the New Year in Santa Cruz!  Last year, I was visiting my family for Christmas and was supposed to be back for New Year, but the weather gods had other opinions.  So instead I rang in the new year in New York with my sister - and got to catch up with my "other sister" Jeanne, who always manages to keep things from becoming too serious.  We couldn't have that...  I also got the pleasure of skiing with her son Nate, my favorite (not so) little man.  If the best skier on the hill is the one having the most fun, then Nate seriously outclassed all the other skiers, including me!

A summertime food festival in Vienna

On the serious side, I'm still working at UCSC, with as many as four jobs crammed into an alleged forty hour workweek. Jorge says that my abundance of jobs makes me economic recovery plan personified!  I'm now down to three jobs (insert heavy sigh of relief!).  Nowadays, when I'm not studying alternative splicing regulation, or annotating the genes in the human genome, I'm curating genomic annotation data for cancer researchers, or doing some side work at predicting which genomic mutations might lead to disease.  All of it is fun and interesting.  I'm still one of the lucky people who don't really mind going to work.

Outside of work, I have enjoyed lots of travel and sports.

A miracle: at the Charles Bridge at 6am without coffee!

This year, work took me to Vienna to give a presentation at a conference. Vienna itself is a great city, but what made the visit even better was the opportunity to catch up with my old friends Hanna and Klaus and their beautiful daughter Nora. On the way to Vienna, Jorge and I tacked on a vacation in the Czech Republic. We spent a few days in Prague with Jorge's old friend Gerardo. I was happy for Gerardo's company the day Jorge led us on a marathon hike through the city in search of absurdist art, including: the moving statue of two men peeing, and the statue of a car on legs visible from the woods behind the Swiss embassy. Jorge insists that Gerardo and I lack appreciation of true art.

In Český Krumlov, Jorge and I enjoyed an entertaining canoe trip down the Vltava River, in the company of many Czechs on their summer drinking trips (which they refer to less accurately as "river trips"). The river was full of riverside cafes and bars you could paddle right up to for your next "pivo".  In Tabor, we stayed in a hostel that was left deserted when the owner went on holiday, and the staff apparently decided to take a holiday as well. We were able to check in by sheer chance: we approached a guy serving beer at a cafe in the plaza, asked him where we might find a public phone to call the hostel, and discovered that his girlfriend was one of the (absentee) hostel employees. Late that night, we were surprised when an off-the-records guest showed up to stay in our room. After we took the intrusion in stride and told her to just take one of the empty beds, she invited us to the Medieval faire that she was in town organizing. This faire proved to be the only thing going on in a town that had emptied out for the summer holidays, which just underscores how the most interesting travel opportunities are often the surprises.

As avid skiers, Jorge and I both enjoyed

Trying out new skiing attire at the  Bear Valley Telly Fest

California's outstanding snowpack during the 2010-2011 ski season. In addition to many superb ski days in California, we spent a week visiting our friend Brooke and her parents in Salt Lake City and getting spoiled by sublime champagne powder in the Wasatch range. The trip ended on a down note when Jorge injured his shoulder, and ultimately had to have surgery later that summer. While he was recuperating, I was off to enjoy my other favorite sport, mountain biking, at the annual Tahoe trip of Mountain Bikers of Santa Cruz (MBOSC). Jorge told me to go have fun and not worry about nursing him - but didn't have to tell me that twice.

Fat Tire Girls showing off scraped knees on the Flume trail

My love of mountain biking has branched into community service as I've become treasurer of Trips For Kids Santa Cruz, an organization that introduces disadvantaged, at-risk youths to mountain biking in a supportive environment. Despite having a lot of start-up work to do this year, we managed to get about twenty kids out on seven rides. The impact is evident on one kid who's come to trust and respect the trip leaders, and has been making wiser choices in his life thanks in part to their guidance. In recognition of his progress, we're awarding him his own bike for Christmas. For anyone looking for a good cause, we could use both volunteer labor and financial support - and thanks for your support.

A lush garden after the wet winter

 Jorge and I have both been healthy this year, give or take a shoulder injury or two. My sister is doing well, and my parents are in amazing health for folks in their eighties. But my cat Neige has been to the vet so many times this year that we coined a new term: Neige-xpensive. This term describes something that isn't merely pricey, it's also expensive beyond expectations - anyone who's ever been through home remodeling will know this concept well. If the cost of Neige's health is the bad news, the good news is the state of her health. In October, we celebrated that she's cancer-free, two years since she lost her leg to vaccine-associated sarcoma, and is now an official "long term survivor". She has mild asthma, currently under control. She also has a mild case of hyperthyroidism, and is scheduled to go to "the spa" in January for radioactive iodine treatment. She also has a pet health insurance policy now. It won't pay for conditions that are pre-existing within the last eighteen months, but that still leaves so many possibilities!

When Neige comes home from the radiation spa, she'll still be a bit hot, enough that I've got special instructions on limiting physical contact at first and special instructions for disposing of her kitty litter.  Nerd that I am, when I look at this situation, I see all sorts of things that would be fun to measure and graph!  Thanks to one of my amazing co-workers, I have a geiger counter on loan so I can measure the cat's radioactivity over the next weeks.  I took my first background measures of her tonight.  She wondered what I was doing coming near her with this thing that wasn't food.

In 2012, I'm looking forward to a river cruise with my mother in Provence - and I'm hoping that it will snow in California one of these days!

All the best - Melissa