Continues Remaining = -1

Been a while, but I'm about to break out the passport and find the other side of the world again. I figured this was a good opportunity to see if this blog still functions.

So this year continues to look to be one of the most interesting of the twenty some odd that I've found so far. Several reasons, but those as of late and those to come are all that I will mention here.

Starting anti-chronologically I will begin with future type happenings. In about one month I will be heading once again to the land of the rising sun. I will be working on an R&D team for a chemical company called Toagosei. This means I'll be located in Nagoya until mid May-June of 2009, so if you've never been or you just can't help yourself . . . come pay me a visit. As entertaining as that may end up being, it has yet to happen, so I will spend the remainder spinning a tale about my last two weeks.

My research has allowed me to spend the last couple weeks wandering through a piece of western Europe. I was selected to be part of the organizing/logistics team for the fourteenth incarnation of the international congress for women in engineering and sciences (heretofore referred to as ICWES). Now you might be asking yourself, "Kyle, why did you go to an international conference for women?" (asking said question means you are either 1) a girl or 2) you just don't like ladies . . . not that there is anything wrong with that). The answer is thus; I am working with my professor on a research project which entails preparing for and creating an international conference for women in nano-technology, energy systems and simulation based engineering research fields, and I needed to use the money given to me by the university to travel for the sake of this research. ICWES provided a great opportunity to network a bit and see how a successful conference of this type is run (not to mention the obvious fact that I go to Georgia Tech and couldn't turn down the chance to take a two week break in Europe at a conference full of women). With why out of the way, I move on to a piece of how and what.

I found out I was going to the conference on a Thursday, bought my ticket on Wednesday and flew out of Atlanta on Thursday at 10:14 (effectively putting a sizable dent in my active debt, but the university will reimburse for about 60%). After a pleasant two hour flight I touched down in lovely Detroit, Michigan. After taking a more detailed look at my flight plan I realized that I now had the privilege of spending the next 5 hours waiting for my trans-Atlantic flight. Luckily updating myself with the goings on of AIESEC US, via email updates from the Google group in very tiny print on my phone, kept me occupied for a solid hour/hour and a half. I spent the remainder of my time watching a combination of Japanese tourist groups and morbidly obese airline patrons wander/struggle through the terminal (getting something of a foresight of my next 10 months and further increasing my disdain for people who are too fat and lazy to stop eating and get some exercise). After throwing up in my mouth a little and taking a nap, I made my way to my gate and climbed on board.

After an oh so delicious in-flight meal and four movies, I found myself in Frankfurt, Germany.
*Ah right, forgot to mention, while I was in the Detroit airport checking my email I found out that one of our LC friends, Claire, was going to be in Paris for the weekend, so I sent her an email letting her know I would be there.*
In the Frankfurt train station I went to find out about routes and reservations to Paris. When I asked the ticket girl about a train to Paris, she informed me that all trains from Frankfurt into France (not just Paris, all of France) were broken . . . So, instead I had to make a couple stops in order to find my way into Paris. I got on my first train on my way to Karlsruhe and found an empty compartment. After sitting down and closing my eyes for a few moments, the compartment was suddenly filled with Chinese tourists. After chatting briefly about eurail passes, though I knew it would lead to problems, I lost the battle with fatigue and fell asleep. I woke up when the train was stopped and looked out the window. Hooray, the sign said Karlsruhe. I had managed to sleep right to my destination, so I grabbed my bag and ran to the door. Much to my dismay the door would not open, and the train began to move forward . . . I went back to my compartment. Realizing that the residents had changed a bit (and looking like a fool running around the train), I confessed my incompetence and started a conversation about travel with one of the kids, who turned out to be from Mexico City and on his way home. After about 10 minutes the train stopped again, and I got off to find my way back. While waiting at the train station 5 different people came to me asking questions about the trains. I say they were questions about the trains based on body language, because my German vocabulary consists of about 10 words, none of which were present in what was said to me.

Little to no incidence followed, and I found myself in Paris. Something to note here is that, while I wasn't thinking about it at the time, I turned my phone off on the plane and left it that way. In my email to Claire I told her that I would be arriving in Paris at Gare de L'Est around noon. This estimate required that all trains were functioning and that I made no mistakes (a poor assumption on my part). Needless to say, these were not the conditions, and I arrived at 17:00. I wandered around the station looking for Claire for about 15 minutes, then I decided to go check out the other station nearby, just in case. I had just about given up when I turned my phone on to check the time, and I saw that I had a message from Claire at 16:45 that she was at the station . . . the time was currently 17:25. . . I sent her a text asking if she was still around. She said she had just left with Ludi (a friend of hers from here and there). I then consigned myself to sleeping in the train station, as I was not expected in Lille until the next day. Claire sent me a message asking if I wanted to meet later and if I had seen the Eiffel Tower. I said yes, and we decided to meet up at Notre Dame. I looked at a map and began walking. With about 25 kilograms on my back it took me about 45 minutes to walk 5 kilometers, which worked out to be almost perfect timing. Claire and Ludi got there a few minutes after. From there we walked around a bit, and stopped for a drink, dropped Ludi off at the train station and headed home. On the way we took a picture in the same place that Clarie and Wan had taken one the same weekend a year before. We got to Elodie's place and had some pasta, it was quite delicious. The three of us then went for a post diner stroll to Montmartre (an excellent nighttime view that I had missed the last time I was in Paris, 10 years earlier). Then a premier showing of calabria to madame Claire and some much needed sleep. In the morning we had some delicious baked goods, and I jumped on a train to Lille.

I made it to Lille without incident, arriving around 16:45 at Le Polytech'Lille (the venue for the conference). I was told to be at the residence hall to check in between 15:30 and 17:30, so I was close but in time. I wandered around the residence, which five buildings, unable to find anything resembling a check-in or reception desk. I had a phone number to call, so I whipped out my trusty mobile and began typing a txt. Low and behold 5 words into the message my mobile died. . . Somewhat disappointed in the situation I wandered back over to the Polytech, found a bench and resigned myself (once again) to spending the night outside. This blissful resignation lasted about 15 minutes until a security guard from the building came out and began to accost me in French (any of you who have seen me when I am geared up for travel can understand why he was worried). So once more the saying goes that I know enough french to get myself into trouble but not out of it. I stopped lying on the bench, and that seemed to appease him. Another 15 minutes passed, and I bolted into an open door. I was lucky enough once inside to run into the conference chair (who did a fine job of convincing the security guard that I was not a bum trying to break into the Polytech. From here it was easy enough. I met a couple of the kids I would be working with, and made my way to register for a room. The unfortunate thing about that whole registering task is that I wasn't on the list of attendees for whatever reason, so I was fortunate enough to be the only person involved with the conference that got placed in the basement . . . It was nice though (the ice cold showers reminded me of my days in Romania). And so in those two pre-conference days I began to cement my place as the only white guy and the person ready to help fix any problem.

The conference went as conferences do. The only thing of significant note is that the apparent advantage of experience and wisdom through age of those organizing and participating does absolutely nothing to effect the number of problems or the level of disorder behind the scenes. I met some people, learn a few things and was privy to some interesting opinions on various topics. Also, as tends to happen at most conferences, I got my hands on a bit of alcohol. The first night of the conference, following the opening ceremonies, there was a cocktail party at the Lille chamber of commerce and industry (an impressive building of murals, mosaics and bell towers). We, as the student organization team, were not invited . . . but I've never let that stop me, so a group of about 10-15 of us hung around until we could schmooze our way in. There were hors d'oeuvres (ranging from tasty prosciutto parmigiana rolls and delicious honey chicken skewers to god awful mayonnaise filled something-or-others) and an endless supply of french champagne. Now I'd like to say that I am a cautious and incremental drinker. . . but that would be untrue and I am not a liar. As we, as uninvitees, were closing down the party and I was picking up my eighteenth glass of champagne, the kind gentleman behind the bar asked if I would like him to fill my bottle. I stuttered at first in disbelief, and then handed my bottle over.From there I did a fine job of portraying the standard collegiate male as I stumbled down the street, while a group of about five of us headed to a pub near the central station to have a taste of the local brew (CH'TI). From here, the beer was quite tasty, I think I paid for mine (since I was 2 euro 50 poorer the next morning), I know Philippe stole some CH'TI glasses, I put a good dent in my canteen (literally the canteen, not it's contents), I forgot a conversation about salt with the Essex girl and a few someones drank my remaining half liter of champagne



















(not too upset about that last one. I certainly didn't need it, and there was plenty to come in the future). An entertaining evening, and no one got sick or fell off any balconies. Night number two was somewhat in the other direction.

This time the setting was the Musee des Beaux-Artes in Lille, and this one was a jazz party . . . Much like the previous night, people stood around chatting and noshing on finger foods (only this time there was a slight murmur of ambient noise from the band in the back of the room). Another notable difference between this night and the previous is that the catering staff went all out this time to make every single piece of food a mayonnaise slathered inedible nugget of hate . . . have I mentioned I'm not one for mayo . . . However there was once again much champagne (although I had left my bottle at home this time) and after quite a while, some of the tastiest finger sized deserts I have ever come across (I believe I ate about 30 of them). Fortunately for me, this night it was not my turn to be the ridiculous drunk. After we once again closed down the scheduled party, a group of about twenty of us headed off to find a beer (a better idea for some than others). After a couple corners and a few blocks we came to the Scotland irish pub. We went inside and surprisingly enough immediately got a table big enough for the lot of us. Beers were ordered and conversations started.Many things were spoken of, some more emphatically than others, and if memory serves me correct only one beer was spilled (3 times). The girl called Eva from Bulgaria took 3 solid tries before she poured her entire beer over the table. She told me the next day that after I had sponged it up and wrung it out back into the glass, she decided not to drink from that beer any more. After that little of incidence occurred (save for the girl Lauren from the UK hoisting threats of vomit and shouting out her window at a small group of us after we had returned to the residence). And what conference is complete without a gala of sorts.

The last night of the conference held just such an even, and it was everything I could have imagined (and sooo much more). The festivities began with about 250 women in fancy dresses standing in the rain waiting to board a charted city bus to the event site. Nothing quite as amusing as seeing 250 Cinderellas all dressed up for the ball climbing onto an extra large city bus. We arrive at what used to be a church, and as we walk inside the scene is . . . well . . . here's a picture
Our group sits at our table and quickly realizes why the chair and OCP were worried about some of the kids playing the part (many were present in jeans and t-shirts). After some slight of hand from a magician (yeah, magician . . . it gets better) walking about the room, some people on stage said what they had to say, and the first course arrived. I had spent the entire week cursing the french gods for sending me little more than bread and inedible mayonnaise products, but this meal was incredible. The first course was a flaky rolled crust filled with all kinds of delicious sea creatures sitting in a creamy cheese sauce . . . mmmm . . . I think I ate three plates of this one. Next came the duck. Slices of roasted duck with potatoes, blue berries and a tasty brown sauce.
Finally came the desert, which was actually pretty disappointing (a chocolate something that was bland and flavorless compared to the deserts at the museum). Thinking about that food got me distracted, I forgot to mention the night's entertainment . . . Magic . . . Straight from a Vegas stage, equipped with absurd french accent, tight pants, fog machines, ridiculous dance moves and scantily clad busty blond assistant. Standing before us was the last possible thought in terms of formal party entertainment (though the decor really should have given it away . . .). After that madness the party wrapped up and headed back to the residence. Four or five of us sat outside for a while chatting and drinking (the Bulgarian girl Eva had brought some vodka seasoned with bison grass . . . yeah, I'm not sure either, tasted a bit like gingerbread). At one point Philippe from Geneva was forced by Pia the German to make good on his bet, and walk in her shoes (6 inch stiletto heels a few sizes too small no less). I only wish I had the pictures to post . . . Oh wait I do
The party then made it's way into my basement room, where Pia and Philippe continued drinking bison juice out of stolen wine/champagne glasses, and Dzuli from Macedonia and I joined with them in conversation. Once again, fortunately enough, no vomiting. Though before we headed inside we were asked quite politely by a dreaded gentleman, smoking what was only said to be "not a cigarette", to stop being so very loud. The next day brought the end of the conference and an interesting turn.

Morning came, and with it came closing ceremonies and the last few hours of madness. During lunch I decided to go to Paris with Dzuli for the night. Once all the delegates had made their way away from the conference site, Dzuli, Pia and I decided it was time to go into town one last time. So, we went to the city center and eventually wandered our way to the area around the museum. Here we stopped to sit for a bit by a fountain (this turned out to be a brilliant idea, as we all napped for about an hour by the fountain). After waking up, it was determined that we needed some beers, so we found a grocery and purchased a six pack of CH'TI. We headed back to the fountain where I quickly opened the first bottle on a stone railing. The second bottle was less fortunate and ended up with a broken neck (I was then forbidden to drink from the broken bottle by both Pia and Dzuli. . .). After my failure to open more than one bottle on the stone railing, Dzuli broke out her lighter, and we managed our way through the rest, bottles and lighter intact. Then we returned to the Polytech, Dzuli said goodbye to everyone, I said see you later to everyone, and we left for the train station with Pia. After a bit of waiting, a bit of confusion and yet another failing of the french train system, we bid adieu to Pia and got on the train to Paris.

We got to Paris around 23:15, and went to catch a metro train to find a friend of Pia's called Hermione for a possible place to stay for the night. However, the ticket booth was closed, the ticket machines did not take bills, there were no change machines to be found and we did not have enough change for even one metro ticket . . . So naturally we set off walking. First was that same 5k walk to Notre Dame. En route I was saved from hunger, like so many of my comrades before me have been, by a late night doner kebab stand. The only thing open, and one of the most delicious things to be so. As we sat beneath the cathedral, we were serenaded from across the bushes with a dozen or so songs (ranging from wonderwall to come as you are) by a man who reminded me of a not so Portuguese Seu Jorge (in both talent and style). After about an hour of rest beneath the Paris sky, Dzuli deemed herself ready to push on, so we headed for the Tower. This walk was about 7k, and for those who've not done so, I'll say this. If you have never taken a midnight stroll through Paris along the Seine with a beautiful someone at your side, add it to your list. We stayed at the Tower until about 5:30, when Dzuli gave up on the idea of walking back, and we took a 10 euro cab to the bus stop. Oh yeah, forgot that one. Dzuli arrived to and left from Paris by bus (2 days by bus to Skopje). She got on her 8AM bus, and I headed to the train station.I caught the 10:00 to Lille. Consequently this was the fourth train I had taken in France (3rd between Paris and Lille), and I finally got caught. You see, even though I purchased a Eurail pass valid in France, Germany and Benelux, I was still required to make a 10-15 euro reservation on EVERY French train . . . I hate the French train system . . . Anyway, I arrived in Lille around 11:00 and headed to the Polytech. I gave handshakes and hugs where they were merited and was on my way to crash for the night (had been awake for about 28 hours at this point), when I ran into Charlotte. I asked if there were any plans for diner (since I had to eat sometime), and she said I could come hang out with her crowd for the evening. It was her and her two friends' birthday bash, cookout and a beer sounded great. So I went to shower, pack and sleep for about 6 hours. She came to pick me up, and we headed to her place to grab her brothers and then on to the party. Entertainment, food, drink and some good people; can't argue with that. Was about a dozen people sitting around chatting eating and playing Sing Star, my kind of party. Also as Charlotte seems to be trying to turn her flat into a carnival, she was gifted a cotton candy maker (matches well with the candy claw machine she already has). After a while about 8 of us headed off to go to a secret club hidden in the fields of Belgium. Definitely not to be found if you don't know where you're going and pretty entertaining, we stayed for a couple hours. As Charlotte and I were both falling asleep at the table we headed out, and I spend my last night in the basement of the residence.

At 4Am when I went to sleep, I of course saw no issue with waking up for the 7:30 train . . . Unfortunately when 6:00 came around and it was time to rise, I changed my mind. I ended up getting out of bed around 6:30. Which, after gathering the remains of my things and dropping off my key, left me about 10 minutes to walk to the metro stop and ride to the station . . . just the ride to the station take 15 minutes. Needless to say, I didn't catch that one. Next train to Brussels was at 11:10, so I had a nap at the train station. I had just enough time in Brussels to grab a waffle (I highly recommend you do the same) and wander up and down through a street market. Next stop was Rotterdam. Once there I found a computer and with it directions to the AI head office (luckily only a few blocks away). I found my way to the street right away, and after about an hour of my search efforts being thwarted by a closed front gate (which consequently blocked the building number . . .), I realized that the office was closed.
What kind of AIESECer takes days off? I found out later that my ghost visit was likely due to the fact that the previous night held the transition party (too bad I didn't know that ahead of time).

I headed back to the station grabbed the most delicious piece of fast food I have ever come across, bami, (it's like a curry-ish rice, veggie and noodle ball that has been breaded and deep fried) and jumped on a train to Frankfurt. I got to Frankfurt around 23:00, gave Pia a call, dropped off my bag at her place and headed out with her for some late night schnitzel and apple wine. Next morning I jumped on a bus, just barely made it in time for my plane (apparently an hour and ten minutes is just not early enough) and headed for home. I yet again had a 5 hour layover in Detroit . . . much more interestingly than that, on marta I ran into a soldier on leave from Iraq who was drunk, stoned, looking for some 250 pound lovin' and quite eager to tell me how he ate a man's heart after hatcheting him limbless (somewhat disconcerting is that I wouldn't put it past this guy). Hard part over, I found my way back to lovely GT.

Looking ahead, with all the comings and goings, there is bound to be a bash in the next two weeks. Hopefully another monumental send-off