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| Sweden_ISMRM |
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Stockholm in Pictures
Album with my photos, plus a few gratefully poached from friends with better cameras and better photography instincts!
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Life on a boat
For my last night in Stockholm I looked for cheaper accommodations, since my roommate at the very central Best Western Hotel Terminus (guess where it is...) flew back to the states a day before me. Seeing as hostels are annoying on weekends, and the attractively low prices usually get bumped up with extra fees for sheets, towels, and breakfast, I decided to go with my gut: I officially moved onto the Malardrottningen, a massive yacht semi-permanently anchored off of the old city island. (credit Dan Bulte for this pic)
My cabin was small but cozy, with two curtained portholes overlooking the broad Malar and the city's southwestern skyline. My two portholes were surprisingly close to the water level, and a small sign below them warned that leaving windows open may lead to flooding problems... I left them shut. The bathroom was quirky, with one wall on hinges to section off a shower area. The key to my cabin was attached to a (buoyant) piece of cork, and a bottle opener. Ahoy :)
When I first moved in, I admit to an overwhelming urge to giggle. (I live on a boat!) (This is a boat!) (Holy crap, I live on a boat!) I wish that I had moved in sooner, but at least I had the one night. The narrow staircases and decorative rope knots in glass displays, the figurehead perching out from a wall near the entrance, the steady buzz permeating the floors and walls from the engines... I live on a boat!
I was a little intrigued by how much or how little I was affected by the rocking of my boat-hotel. Granted, the waters were reasonably calm during my stay there, but there was a definite (subtle) sway. When sleeping, I could barely notice any movement. But standing over the sink, eyes closed to wash my face, I felt as if I might fall over at any minute. Funny how the brain translates such a minute motion.
The boat was given to Barbara Hutton for her 18th birthday (Hutton is famous for her, um, prolific string of boyfriends and husbands, including Cary Grant, as well as her daddy's obscene amount of money). I believe that her 19th birthday involved discovering a one million dollar check under her pillow. Sometime after her ownership, I believe the British army used it as an anti-submarine vessel, and then it was passed around numerous times until settling into the hands of a hotel-savvy family. To anyone visiting Stockholm, I recommend the experience. There are other boat-hotels, but my boat is the one in All the pictures. I can even see my portholes on some of the guidebooks!
My cabin was small but cozy, with two curtained portholes overlooking the broad Malar and the city's southwestern skyline. My two portholes were surprisingly close to the water level, and a small sign below them warned that leaving windows open may lead to flooding problems... I left them shut. The bathroom was quirky, with one wall on hinges to section off a shower area. The key to my cabin was attached to a (buoyant) piece of cork, and a bottle opener. Ahoy :)
When I first moved in, I admit to an overwhelming urge to giggle. (I live on a boat!) (This is a boat!) (Holy crap, I live on a boat!) I wish that I had moved in sooner, but at least I had the one night. The narrow staircases and decorative rope knots in glass displays, the figurehead perching out from a wall near the entrance, the steady buzz permeating the floors and walls from the engines... I live on a boat!
I was a little intrigued by how much or how little I was affected by the rocking of my boat-hotel. Granted, the waters were reasonably calm during my stay there, but there was a definite (subtle) sway. When sleeping, I could barely notice any movement. But standing over the sink, eyes closed to wash my face, I felt as if I might fall over at any minute. Funny how the brain translates such a minute motion.
The boat was given to Barbara Hutton for her 18th birthday (Hutton is famous for her, um, prolific string of boyfriends and husbands, including Cary Grant, as well as her daddy's obscene amount of money). I believe that her 19th birthday involved discovering a one million dollar check under her pillow. Sometime after her ownership, I believe the British army used it as an anti-submarine vessel, and then it was passed around numerous times until settling into the hands of a hotel-savvy family. To anyone visiting Stockholm, I recommend the experience. There are other boat-hotels, but my boat is the one in All the pictures. I can even see my portholes on some of the guidebooks!
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Physicists know how to party, aka ABBA!
The closing farewell reception of the annual ISMRM conference is a massive affair--there are, after all, over 6 thousand people in attendance. However, the "entertainment" is often comparable to background white noise, or worse, just plain bad. Last year we had a talent show, and not even the epic skills of a professional didgeridoo player cum scientist could balance the poor showing of the "stand up comedians" that emerged painfully from the MRI community. However, Stockholm's organizers broke the mold and produced perhaps the greatest farewell reception in the history of the conference.
After opening with drinks and a buffet, the organizers emerged to award the "Not-So-Nobel" Prize to one of the many entrants in the poster competition for the worst MRI ideas ever. For example, self-operated scanning, homeopathic MRI, cooking an egg using faulty coils at 7T, etc. Then, the local chief organizer fulfilled what must have been a childhood dream, shouting things like "Are you Ready to Rock" to the crowd of primed scientists. The show was two-part. Part I: The ice-breaker. Waterloo, the "most famous ABBA cover band," played every ABBA hit complete with several costume changes. From tiny skirts to lycra body suits to hideous long dresses, the front women lured in the normally uptight science nerds with their good looks and choreographed Dancing Queen. PIs from all over the world were "singing with their eyes closed" while dancing pressed up to the stage until the very last number. While several exhausted presenters and moderators (or party poopers) drifted back to their hotels at this stage, a crowd of a few thousand remained for an all female rock cover band, culminating in a sea of bespectacled nerds jumping up and down to "Highway to Hell." Who knew we geeks had it in us?
After this epic spectacle, fully photo-documented by all male audience members who were entranced by the lycra-wielding ABBA singers, most groups found their way to various pubs and bars along the tunnelbanna and pendeltag arteries of the city. And around 2am we turned into pumpkins and tottered back to our respective hotels. Friday morning sessions were surprisingly well attended, but most participants were bleary eyed and incoherent. The presenters were blessed with very few questions :)
After opening with drinks and a buffet, the organizers emerged to award the "Not-So-Nobel" Prize to one of the many entrants in the poster competition for the worst MRI ideas ever. For example, self-operated scanning, homeopathic MRI, cooking an egg using faulty coils at 7T, etc. Then, the local chief organizer fulfilled what must have been a childhood dream, shouting things like "Are you Ready to Rock" to the crowd of primed scientists. The show was two-part. Part I: The ice-breaker. Waterloo, the "most famous ABBA cover band," played every ABBA hit complete with several costume changes. From tiny skirts to lycra body suits to hideous long dresses, the front women lured in the normally uptight science nerds with their good looks and choreographed Dancing Queen. PIs from all over the world were "singing with their eyes closed" while dancing pressed up to the stage until the very last number. While several exhausted presenters and moderators (or party poopers) drifted back to their hotels at this stage, a crowd of a few thousand remained for an all female rock cover band, culminating in a sea of bespectacled nerds jumping up and down to "Highway to Hell." Who knew we geeks had it in us?
After this epic spectacle, fully photo-documented by all male audience members who were entranced by the lycra-wielding ABBA singers, most groups found their way to various pubs and bars along the tunnelbanna and pendeltag arteries of the city. And around 2am we turned into pumpkins and tottered back to our respective hotels. Friday morning sessions were surprisingly well attended, but most participants were bleary eyed and incoherent. The presenters were blessed with very few questions :)
Monday, May 3, 2010
Education, Her Majesty, and smoked raindeer
And so commences my fourth annual meeting of the International Society for Magnetic Resonance in Medicine. Stockholm is quite different than last year's destination (yeah, well, not many places can compete with Hawaii on it's terms) but I am gently smitten with the city. It has a calm and friendly charm, and while I am spending a small fortune in kroner to simply eat and take the trains (and have a few pints, I admit) I think that this is one of my favorite European destinations so far. I see the city as an ideal place to try out my new verb: flaneur. My understanding is that this guy decided the best way to really see and feel a city is to organically wander through its streets, and an entire movement of flaneurs and flaneuring agreed with him in some earlier decade. Stockholm is utterly walkable, and the narrow cobbled streets of the old city, the numerous bridges with uniquely stunning views of the broad waters winding their way through the center of town, and the church spires and wide painted window shutters that add details to landscape all make being a flaneur an addictive endeavor.
But, I am not technically in Stockholm to see the sights. I am more or less resigned to keeping sight seeing to a reasonably low level until the conference winds down. This morning was an early start, as I made my way on the commuter train to the conference center in time to see the opening awards ceremony and plenary lectures. Her Majesty, the Queen of Sweden, graced us with her pleasingly queen-like presence and officially opened our proceedings. She was beautiful, and said a few prepared cliche words before being a very magnanimous medal presenter. Pretty cool.
In the main Lauterbur lecture, named after one of the scientists who was awarded a Nobel Prize (also in Sweden!) for initiating the field of MRI, the speaker ended his talk on the "Future of MRI" by covering the precise area of research that I am trying to break into. That was highly satisfying.
I am not quite in conference mode yet... I went to a few good talks, barely kept my eyes open through a few bad ones, and did come back up to my hotel for an afternoon nap at one point! The evening played out successfully, as my study section meeting of MR of Cancer provided a full Swedish buffet dinner of salmon, herring, fishy noodles, meatballs, potatoes, and (yes!) smoked raindeer with a lingonberry horseradish topping. The study group had a surprising program this year, focusing on how to navigate finding funding and moving up in a career in MR Cancer research, before ending with an almost heated debate over how to get oncologists to actually use MRI for routine cancer diagnosis and prognosis. (You can imagine that a room full of scientists, steeped in bitterness at not having the lifestyle generally associated with the medical profession, had a few choice words about our medical professional colleagues :-p )
After that I joined up with friends at the "Brit Party," a London lab-derived annual pub outing that I am indirectly "invited" to via my grapevine of UK friends. No matter where in the world we are, we can find an Irish pub to invade en masse (or en queue, perhaps?). I'd like to give a big shout-out to my good friend Manus, who is not only awesome, but patient and nice enough to let me tag along in the hopes that his awesomeness is contagious. After both of us left England only to spend months of living about an hour away in the US and never managing a visit, it was fantastic to catch up with him. He was excited at the prospect of being blogged about, so here you go. Hopefully I will visit him and his family back in Maryland and have future posts with adorable pictures of a toddling Megan and tales of Annapolis crab feasts.
After some quality Oxford-reminiscing, I'm now back in my hotel and acutely aware that my language skills really should not have been applied to a blog post! Thanks for bearing with me, more to come soon!
But, I am not technically in Stockholm to see the sights. I am more or less resigned to keeping sight seeing to a reasonably low level until the conference winds down. This morning was an early start, as I made my way on the commuter train to the conference center in time to see the opening awards ceremony and plenary lectures. Her Majesty, the Queen of Sweden, graced us with her pleasingly queen-like presence and officially opened our proceedings. She was beautiful, and said a few prepared cliche words before being a very magnanimous medal presenter. Pretty cool.
In the main Lauterbur lecture, named after one of the scientists who was awarded a Nobel Prize (also in Sweden!) for initiating the field of MRI, the speaker ended his talk on the "Future of MRI" by covering the precise area of research that I am trying to break into. That was highly satisfying.
I am not quite in conference mode yet... I went to a few good talks, barely kept my eyes open through a few bad ones, and did come back up to my hotel for an afternoon nap at one point! The evening played out successfully, as my study section meeting of MR of Cancer provided a full Swedish buffet dinner of salmon, herring, fishy noodles, meatballs, potatoes, and (yes!) smoked raindeer with a lingonberry horseradish topping. The study group had a surprising program this year, focusing on how to navigate finding funding and moving up in a career in MR Cancer research, before ending with an almost heated debate over how to get oncologists to actually use MRI for routine cancer diagnosis and prognosis. (You can imagine that a room full of scientists, steeped in bitterness at not having the lifestyle generally associated with the medical profession, had a few choice words about our medical professional colleagues :-p )
After that I joined up with friends at the "Brit Party," a London lab-derived annual pub outing that I am indirectly "invited" to via my grapevine of UK friends. No matter where in the world we are, we can find an Irish pub to invade en masse (or en queue, perhaps?). I'd like to give a big shout-out to my good friend Manus, who is not only awesome, but patient and nice enough to let me tag along in the hopes that his awesomeness is contagious. After both of us left England only to spend months of living about an hour away in the US and never managing a visit, it was fantastic to catch up with him. He was excited at the prospect of being blogged about, so here you go. Hopefully I will visit him and his family back in Maryland and have future posts with adorable pictures of a toddling Megan and tales of Annapolis crab feasts.
After some quality Oxford-reminiscing, I'm now back in my hotel and acutely aware that my language skills really should not have been applied to a blog post! Thanks for bearing with me, more to come soon!
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