Day tripper: El Nicho

Posted on December 10, 2009 by Cath@VWXYNot?

When we first started planning our trip, Mr E Man did a lot of online research, and picked Baracoa as his first choice destination. However, its location on the far Eastern tip of the island meant that we would have lost too many days to travelling, and we decided to defer the delights of mountains, pine forests, and waterfalls to our next trip instead.

Intent on swimming by a waterfall anyway, Mr E Man then picked El Nicho, near Cienfuegos. As with our trip to Habana, we chose an organised tour – but in this case, it really was the only option as we were repeatedly told that most Cuban cars can’t handle the road in, which is winding, steep, and in poor condition. Our brand new, Chinese-built minibus had enough problems, creaking and groaning its way up and down the steep grades. As it turns out though, the tour was great. We chatted to the other people on the bus (a mother and son from Ontario, two guys from Israel, and one German), to our wonderfully smiley guide, and to the musicians we picked up en route (no meal or other experience in Cuba is complete without a live band, and this was no exception).

The drive was amazing. On the bus down from Varadero we’d seen how lush and green the countryside is – and much wilder, less intensively farmed than I’d imagined. But this drive into the mountains was something else, and the driver stopped a few times for photo opportunities.

Upon arriving at El Nicho, our guide led us into the woods on a nature walk. She was an encyclopedic source of knowledge about the local plants and their medicinal uses, and local folklore about the plants and birds we saw. We ate fresh berries from the coffee plants growing wild in the reserve, and heard wondrous stories about the delicious fruit of the mamey tree:
“It is the most delicious fruit in the world. Everybody in Cuba loves it, we are so happy when the mameys ripen. It looks good, it smells good, and it tastes so very, very good. But it is not in season, so you can’t have any”.
Our new German friend said “do, please, keep telling us how amazing this wonderful fruit is that we can’t have”, and she waxed lyrical for another minute or two, laughing heartily at our jealous faces!
Luckily, the main attraction of El Nicho soon came into view, taking our minds off delicious forbidden fruit:

 
There’s a series of pools, and we lost no time getting into the biggest, bluest, most waterfall-y of the group. Having told several Cubans where we were going, we expected the water to be extremely cold. Everyone had told us how beautiful it was, but said it was “muy frío” even in August, when most Cubans visit. To go in November? You Canadians are crazy! We were warned repeatedly by our hostess Esther and her daughter, and started to take the advice to heart. 
But really? For Canadians? It barely even counted as “refreshing” (well, until you swam under the waterfall). Our German companion agreed with us, but our two new Israeli friends were significantly slower to get in!

 Mr E Man took this photo of me taking a photo of the mother and son from Ontario
Our guide said that for those who can stand the cold (she couldn’t get past her ankles), this was actually the best time of year to visit – during the rainy season, and for a few months afterwards, the pools are full of mud, vegetation, and other debris washed down by the rain. But we were treated to beautifully clear water.
 
We went from pool to pool for around an hour, before being summoned for lunch at the reserve’s one and only restaurant. We sat in the sunshine and had a delicious meal of pork, potatoes, and salad, to the sound of a band playing that wonderful Cuban music, before getting back into the bus for a picturesque ride back to Cienfuegos. After dinner we met up with the German and Israelis for beers and more music.
The only low point in the whole day was the sorry sight of a female dog in the restaurant, obviously nursing, who was a pathetic mess of skin and bones. Every single one of us in the group took pity on her and fed her large chunks of meat. There was another nursing female too, less skinny than the other but not in good condition. She got some smaller pieces of meat and a couple of potatoes. There was also a happy, healthy, bright-eyed bushy-tailed male, who we thought looked rather pleased with himself.
We didn’t give him anything.
Posted in food glorious food, furry friends, music, photos, travel | 7 Comments

Say what?

Posted on December 9, 2009 by Cath@VWXYNot?

On Sunday, we had brunch with Mr E Man’s oldest brother, plus his (hilarious new) fiancee and two sons. Crammed into a booth in a busy restaurant, the conversation turned to misheard song lyrics, and from there to a story about someone mishearing the word “hamster” as “cancer”, with hilarious consequences.

I sat back and waited, with a smug little smile on my lips.

I always win these things.

Yeah, so the hamster story was good, and HNF thought she’d won. But then I played the ace up my sleeve; the story of a misheard question that no-one has yet been able to beat.

The other grad student in my lab in Glasgow was called Mike, but everyone called him Mikey Boy. One day I was walking through our building’s main lobby area (reception desk, glass doors, bike racks outside) towards the stairs to the lab area. Our IT guy (who was friends with all the students and postdocs) was standing by the doors, coat on, and looking at his watch. As I approached him, he said something to me.

What he actually said: “If you see that Mikey Boy upstairs, can you tell him to move his fat arse?”

What I heard: “See that bike of yours outside? You can tell it’s made for a fat arse”

Can anyone beat that?

Posted in silliness | 20 Comments

The Twelve Days of Funding: A Nature Network Christmas Carol Collaboration

Posted on December 8, 2009 by Cath@VWXYNot?

In a post last week, I told you that I was working on a grant budget and budget justification based on rather less information than one might deem necessary. While waiting for feedback from the boss and some additional information to help me write the abstract, I mused on Twitter that it might be better to just give up and write the damn thing as a Christmas carol:
“On the first day of Christmas, the CIHR should give to me…”
Encouraged by Samantha Alsbury, and remembering all the fun we had with Brian’s poem this time last year, I think we should complete the carol, to reflect what we all need to help us do good science (or editing, or science writing, or whatever it is you do) in 2010.
In the interests of international inclusivity (and scansion), I have altered the first line as follows:
On the first day of Christmas, you need to fund for me:
Some chocolate and a nice cup of tea.
On the second day of Christmas, you need to fund for me:
Two MacBook Pros,
And some chocolate and a nice cup of tea.
What do you want from your true love favourite funding body this Christmas?
Contributions in bold italics please, and remember that this song is only annoying fun if you repeat all the verses, every time!

Posted in Uncategorized | 35 Comments

Hockey pool, week 10

Posted on December 7, 2009 by Cath@VWXYNot?

Typical!

I have my best ever week, thanks to Team Alex (Burrows* and Edler), and That Damn Alyssa (her official new name) matches me point for point.

Bah Humbug!

—————-

*my favourite Canuck

Posted in hockey pool 2009-2010 | 4 Comments

The “why?” that came in from the cold

Posted on December 7, 2009 by Cath@VWXYNot?

It’s a beautiful morning here in Vancouver – sunny and cold, with an emphasis on the cold. It is in fact a “holy shit!” on the international scale of coldness, and all the smart cyclists1 are wearing balaclavas and looking like ninjas. So it’s a good day to ask a question about a cold-related phenomenon I’ve noticed in myself and others over the years.
When you’ve been out for a while on a cold day, and then come back inside, why does the first blast of heat make you shiver?

1 Not me. My face was so cold when I got to work this morning that I couldn’t talk properly for the first five minutes of the meeting I was chairing.

Posted in Uncategorized | 26 Comments

Cuba: Cienfuegos

Posted on December 7, 2009 by Cath@VWXYNot?

After checking out of our resort, we headed South to the city of Cienfuegos, on the Caribbean coast. We took the Viazul bus, which turned out to be clean, comfortable, and reasonably cheap. It was a pleasant drive, taking us through some small and completely untouristy towns, through the gorgeous lush green countryside, and giving us a tantalising glimpse of the mountains.

We’d decided to spend our second week staying in Casa Particulares – private homes whose owners have purchased an expensive license and pay a substantial monthly fee in order to rent out rooms to tourists. It’s by far the cheapest option, and also gives you the experience of staying with locals (although the homes and lives of the relatively well-off people who can afford to start a Casa operation are almost certainly not typical; the homes marked with the official Casa sign were significantly nicer than others in the same town). We chose a likely option from the (excellent) Lonely Planet guidebook, then shouldered our backpacks, said “no thank you” to all the people who’d met the bus to offer accommodation / dinner / cigars, and walked off toward the old square at the heart of the city.

The owners of the Casa answered the door, and ushered us in to their home. It was gorgeous; the internal rooms opened up onto a balcony looking down into an internal courtyard filled with plants and lounging cats. The owners – Armando and Leonor – poured us a glass each of delicious tropical fruit juice, and told us their philosophy: “friendship between nations begins with friendship between people”. They asked where we were from, and told us of their travels around the world (Leonor was a physics professor before she retired). They showed us a short video highlighting the sights of Cienfuegos, and extolled the virtues of Cuba and its free education for its citizens, and citizens of other developing country.

And then they told us that they did not have any vacancies.

They were very apologetic, but someone was coming from Havana with a reservation. Armando told us that he hated to turn people away from his home, but it could not be helped. But not to worry, they would call all the other Casa owners they knew, and arrange something for us. While we were waiting, they gave us some small gifts – a black cat necklace for me, and a Che portrait necklace for Mr E Man. We gave them some of the New Scientist magazines we’d brought in exchange.

About ten minutes later, Leonor’s friend Esther appeared to take us to her Casa. Armando shook our hands, and Leonor kissed us both. They told us to come to them if we needed anything while we were in town – any time, for anything at all. We walked past their house a few times in the next couple of days, and saw Leonor out on the balcony overlooking the street. She always called to us by name, asked if we were having a good time, and told us “we love you!”

Communists?

Not so scary, actually.

Anyway.

Off to Esther’s place we went, just around the corner. She barely spoke any English, but Mr E Man speaks enough Spanish to (more or less) cover the basics. A tiny lady of 90 years, she barely came up to my chin, and she told us that she’d lived in this house her entire life* and that yes, she had seen a lot of changes. The house was full of faded glory – ornate plaster work, high ceilings, old family photos and degree certificates and an ancient untuned piano. Our room had a crazy spiral staircase up to the roof terrace;

it felt like it might come loose and topple over at any minute, but the view from the terrace was worth it.

Unfortunately, the bed you can see in the top photo turned out to be The Most Uncomfortable Bed In The World. I would be willing to bet good money that the mattress came with the house. After two nights we couldn’t take it anymore, and decamped to a hotel for our last night. But Esther and her family were excellent hosts, letting us store our bags there on our last day, and even letting us pay a little late when we ran out of Cuban money and the bank had already closed**. She also called ahead to a friend in the next city on our itinerary, who met us off the bus and took us to her own Casa.

But I’m getting ahead of myself!

Cienfuegos was lovely, but Sunday and Monday were not the best two days to visit. The central plaza was absolutely gorgeous,

Cuba – where the lions play football, and a good mechanic is a God

but its music venues were either quiet or closed. (We did get to see The Worst Musician In CubaTM, but since I’m going to devote a whole post to our musical experiences, I’ll save that story for later!) The museums were also closed, so we spent some very pleasant hours strolling the back streets and main streets instead, enjoying the architecture and Caribbean views and sunshine.

From the street…

…and from the roof

There may or may not have been some beer breaks involved.

Overall, this was a very nice introduction to “the real Cuba.” But if you go, skip Esther’s bed of torture, and try to stay with Armando and Leonor instead!

———————–

*after the revolution, Cubans who owned their own homes were allowed to keep them. Business owners, and foreigners who owned property in Cuba, were not so lucky.


**no ATMs, credit card payments, or other normal features of Western finance here; we took cash (Canadian dollars, you can only get the Cuban Convertible Pesos from within the country) and changed it as and when we needed it. It took a bit of getting used to, I can tell you!

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Book Review: Zombies and Ninjas and Balls, Oh My!

Posted on December 4, 2009 by Cath@VWXYNot?

“Pride and Prejudice and Zombies“, by Jane Austen and Seth Grahame-Smith

In 2001, or thereabouts, I took a trip from Glasgow down to Oxford to meet up with some high school friends. I was horribly hungover, but luckily the first train I took was relatively quiet. By the time I changed trains in Birmingham, I was feeling a bit better. This was lucky, because the two trains ahead of mine had been cancelled, meaning that three train-loads of pissed-off commuters were crammed into the two carriages. The aisles were packed, and there were even two or three people standing in each bathroom, necessitating much reshuffling of people whenever anyone needed to go. I found myself a seat – cross-legged under a table, with one other traveller – and cracked open my book.

It was “Bridget Jones: Edge of Reason”.

I couldn’t help myself. I laughed out loud a couple of times, interspersed with loud snorts through my nose. Curious faces appeared under the table, saw what I was reading, and disappeared, laughing and relaying the news to other travellers. One woman two tables down happily proclaimed “I loved that book!”

I haven’t had that kind of reaction to a book since. Until, that is, I started to read “Pride and Prejudice and Zombies” on the beach in Varadero. I caused several people on neighbouring beach chairs to look over to see what I was reading, and even inspired Mr E Man to pick it up when I’d finished.

The book is a riot. The very simple premise is that this is the familiar P&P story, but set against a background of a plague of “unmentionables” (I love the period language euphemisms) who are infesting the English countryside. All the original elements are there, with large chunks of the original text intact, but the five Bennett sisters have been trained in the deadly arts by Shaolin monks, and Lady Catherine has her own ninjas. (“Wady Caferine very respectable… sensible woman”). Oh, and there are some double entendres from Mr. Darcy that surely would have made Ms. Austen blush fire engine red. I’ll even forgive the description of a chipmunk in the English woods (Americans! Honestly).

Marriage is, of course, still the chief object for the young ladies of England, despite the recent unpleasantness. One such lady states, “all I ask is that […] I be permitted a husband who will see to my proper Christian beheading and burial”, and all the original balls, schemes, and other shenanigans are in place (although some of them are interrupted by the untimely demise of the kitchen staff).

The book’s kind of gory, but if you can deal with that, then I highly recommend it. The illustrations are also a hoot, and even the Readers’ Discussion Guide at the end made me laugh. I’ve read the original novel many times, and can quote large chunks of the BBC adaptation by heart, and I think this added greatly to my enjoyment of the zombie version. However, Mr E Man has only seen bits and pieces of the BBC adaptation, and found my comparisons to the first Bridget Jones novel more useful in getting the relationships straight in his head. And he still enjoyed this book, and made a few curious heads turn towards his own beach chair. I do think that I appreciated the book more, though!

SPOILER ALERT

(Actually, is it a spoiler if I tell you something that didn’t happen? Anyway, read on at your own risk)

My one gripe with the book is that the zombie story was never resolved. Some events that happened on Elizabeth’s journeys to and from Charlotte’s place, and some other hints, made me think that this narrative thread was building into some kind of climax. I even imagined that there might be a massive battle at the wedding, leaving Jane and Elizabeth as the sole surviving Bennetts, and thus removing any objections that Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley might have about their low connections. But no, the book ended with the plague still unresolved and continuing to bother the good people of England.

Perhaps a sequel is brewing?

Mr E Man and I came up with some ideas:

“Romeo and Juliet and Werewolves”

“War and Peace and Witches”

(Vampires are so cliche)

Anyway. Highly recommended for a silly, light-hearted read. Read in public at your own risk.

Posted in book review, silliness | 6 Comments

Reverse engineering

Posted on December 3, 2009 by Cath@VWXYNot?

I’ve been in my current job for two years now, and I’ve lost track of the number of grants I’ve worked on.

  • I’ve done first drafts, final proofreads, and everything in between.
  • I’ve been present from the first planning meeting for some grants, and done little more than handle the assembly and final submission of others.
  • I’m learning how best to track the progress of grant-funded projects run by large multidisciplinary teams, and by single distracted clinicians.

Somewhat obviously, I’ve learned the most from the applications and resulting projects in which I’ve been most heavily involved. For the purposes of your amusement this post, I can sum up my findings in the following equation:

I find that tracking the progress of the blue stuff is relatively straightforward, if I’ve been involved in (or at least party to) the PIs’ decisions about how to balance the individual elements of the red stuff1.
The hard part is the reverse engineering.
One of my current projects is to help write detailed in-house specimen collection and processing instructions, as well as an ethics application, for a grant we were recently awarded. The grant was originally submitted before I joined the group, and was revised and resubmitted last year. I was spending most of my time and energy on two other grants submitted to the same competition, and was therefore spared too much involvement in this fairly straightforward resubmission.
So, when I had to come up with a very detailed description of the blue part of the funded project, I only had the first element of the red side of the equation to work from. I have no idea which experiments make up the bottom two categories.
While this has been a somewhat frustrating experience, my reverse engineering efforts have certainly taught me a lot that I didn’t know about grant writing. The primary lesson is the importance of a cleverly constructed budget.
I’m now trying to use this hard-won knowledge in one of my other current projects: drafting the budget and justification for another (five year, six figure) grant application, using only the single line item and sad-face emoticon provided by the PI.
Red stuff, blue stuff, and black holes.

1 the balance is usually sometimes never ever ever influenced by the rigour of the funding body’s financial and scientific progress reporting procedures

Posted in Uncategorized | 8 Comments

More K’naan for you

Posted on December 1, 2009 by Cath@VWXYNot?

From NPR’s Tiny Desk Concert series. The second song, Fatima, breaks my heart. I well up every single time I hear it.

K’naan’s touring right now, so keep an eye out for concerts near you. We saw him in March, and it was the stand-out concert of the year (yes – better than U2), and also made it into my top five gigs of all time.

Posted in music, video | Comments Off on More K’naan for you

Daytripper: La Habana

Posted on December 1, 2009 by Cath@VWXYNot?

We’d already decided to head South after our week in the resort, making the compulsory visit to Habana / Havana easiest to accomplish as a day trip West from Varadero. A couple of friends who’d been to Varadero before had suggested approaching our resort staff and asking whether they or someone they knew could drive us there, the theory being that this would work out cheaper, and with a more personal touch, than taking the official tour. We tried to follow this plan, but the first three people we talked to referred us straight back to the official tour, saying that this would work out much easier and more comfortable, and give us more time in “the good parts” of Habana. (I wonder if they were on commission…) We obviously talked to the wrong people, as we met a couple of groups of tourists later that week who had succeeded in finding a private driver and guide in this way.

In the end, the official tour had its advantages and disadvantages. On the pro side, our tour guide spoke excellent English, and gave us lots of insights into local industries, agriculture, history, and social issues, both on the drive and in the city itself. And the bus was very comfortable and clean, with air-con and a toilet on board. The cons: being herded like cattle around the prime tourist hotspots, with 45 minutes here, an hour and a half there, and a mere five minutes for photos in a rain-soaked Plaza de la Revolucion;

Viva la Revolucion! (Unless it’s raining)

time wasted in places we had no real interest in, such as a slow drive through a very wet cemetery and a half-hour stop at a cigar shop; no choice in where to go or where to eat lunch (included); not enough time in general. If we were to do the trip over again I’d spend more time trying to find an alternative option, but overall I’m very happy that we made it to this beautiful and interesting city.

Habana is a UNESCO world heritage site, and that worthy organisation has been providing funds to help the Cuban government renovate the older parts of the city. I do hope this money continues to flow; the areas that have already been fixed up are just gorgeous,

 
 
 

while other areas of the city have such obvious potential. Gorgeous facades and intricate plaster work crumble sadly away, crying out for a coat of paint, or try in vain to mask the sight of water from a tropical rain storm cascading through the hollowed out rooms and down a stone spiral staircase.

You missed a bit!

It must have been something to see in its heyday. At the moment, though, it’s obviously still a work in progress!



The workmen we came across were very happy to let us photograph them at work, and shook hands with Mr E Man when he identified himself as a carpenter. I saw a glint in his eye that made me think he might be dreaming of swapping Vancouver’s dreary grey gloom for a life spent restoring Habana’s buildings to their former glory!

A Canadian connection from more capitalist times

We’d been warned before we left Canada about constant harassment from beggars and hustlers. There was a wee bit of that in Habana, but really, Paris and Rome are far worse (and so are other parts of Cuba – stay tuned!) And I never once felt unsafe, even when we ventured into the teeming, hot, sticky side streets, and had to duck into a wee bit of a seedy bar to shelter from a sudden downpour, before making a mad dash back to the bus along cobbled streets suddenly flowing with a couple of inches of water! A steamy bus full of wet shoes, oh joy!

One warning, if you go: take your own toilet paper! Habana was a great introduction to this most important rule of Cuban travel. In our two weeks in Cuba, I only saw the magic combination of paper, seat, soap, running water, and paper towels or hand dryer once or twice outside of the resort (and not always inside!) Even in nice restaurants and hotels, packed full of Western tourists, you have to either get your TP at the door from the ubiquitous attendant (they hand out 2 or 3 sheets max of the local sandpaper), or supply your own. Some loos didn’t even have a flush mechanism, meaning that the attendant would have to come in after you and fill the top tank with water from a bucket. (Needless to say, I did not enjoy this aspect of the authentic local colour!) I quickly realised that, in the absence of a good-sized bag, it was best to stuff the pockets of my waterproof jacket full of small change for tips (required even if you take your own paper), a roll of TP (brought from home after reading the guide book very carefully), and hand sanitiser. I got some odd looks (and snarky comments from Mr E Man) for always carrying my jacket, even on hot sunny days, but really, such discomforts are very minor, and well worth the inconvenience.

Posted in photos, TMI, travel | 6 Comments