musings of my mind
My schedule over the past 5-6 days has looked like this:
…and repeat.
Tomorrow (today?) won’t be much different, just replace "Go to class" with "Move lots of heavy furniture." Six more weeks…
After attending and pretty much owning the career fair today I wanted to pass on some tips to some of my younger, more inexperienced readers…
How to Work a Career Fair
With these simple tips you are sure to score some interviews at any career fair. Or be removed promptly by security.
Ice climbing to me was always one of those sports that seemed out of reach. I’m not sure if it was the stigma, the price of equipment, or the simple idea of climbing up a sheer wall of ice up to thousands of feet tall. Either way, experiencing it pretty much shattered any preconceptions I had previously had.
When registering for courses for the Spring I realized I needed another ‘activity’ in order to graduate. I was pleasantly surprised that Ice Climbing was being offered, and was the first to sign up. After a brief meeting in the Red Barn (our on-campus climbing gym) we met on friday afternoon to head to the Adirondaks. Only four souls were brave enough to embark on this journey, which was very nice. Along with our instructor and a TA (my age), there were six of us total.
I was pretty psyched the whole way up, about five hours from Rochester. We stayed at a ski shop in their bunks downstairs and got up early on Saturday for a day’s climbing. Our first wall was down into a canyon from the outlet of Chapel Pond. Anybody familiar with my pics from hiking Giant will remember seeing this pond, very visible for most of the hike.
We briefly reviewed tying knots and belaying basics, and George (the TA) scrambled up around the wall to set up the top rope. We waited (im)patiently for them to come back so we could start.
I was naturally the first to volunteer to go, and started making my way up the choppy middle section of the wall on the right. I progressed pretty well about 2/3 of the way up (guess I’m a natural) before my hands started getting really sore from gripping the ice axe so hard. Then I decided to go up the right side of the uppermost central rock face, and ended up falling after an axe placement slipped. After a 50 foot fall or so I brushed myself off and went back at it. Good ol’ combat roll at the bottom saved me from injury.
Haha, ok so of course when you fall the rope simply tightens and your belayer (the person controlling the rope at the bottom, see my pics) catches you. Falling was still unacceptable to me and I went about 9-10 times before doing it again (incidentally on my last climb of the weekend). The next few climbs I made it to the top, taking just about every route I could.
The beauty of ice climbing is that you’re not restricted to finding holds in the wall like in rock climbing. You just pound your ice axes into the ice for handholds and kick your crampons (spikes sticking off your boots, they’re pretty badass) into the ice for footholds. This allows you to take just about any route to the top. Usually I just want to get to my destination when i’m in the woods (in the case the top of the wall) so I usually just head straight up. Either way, it’s extremely taxing on your upper body, especially your hands and arms. Come to think of it, it’d be a really fun yet effective method of working out. Sweet.
I had taken an outdoor rock climbing class a couple summers ago, long before this blog detailed my life’s story, and was quite unimpressed with my classmates. It was a similar trip, we went to Rattlesnake point to the west of Niagara Falls in Canada to do some climbing. They seemed mostly uninterested in climbing and I ended up doing by far the most. This time was different, though. There were only four of us and it was clear that we all enjoyed the outdoors and a challenge, not to mention handling standing around for hours at a time in sub-freezing temperatures. We all gave it a shot time and time again, which was admirable, especially at a nerd-filled school of engineers and techies like RIT.
The next day we spent climbing on Pitchoff Rock. Anybody who has driven into Keene from Lake Placid will have probably noticed this wall, it’s on the left side opposite of Cascade Lake. According 
to Tony it’s one of, if not the most climbed wall in the Northeast. This is because of it’s accessibility and approachable dimensions. The ice here was even more beautiful than on saturday, esepcially because the sun was shining. However, the sun has a very dramatic and fast effect on ice, and after about a half-hour it was dripping pretty badly. The column especially was dripping pretty badly, and we joked (well half-joked) about kicking it right over when climbing. A column is simply a free-standing pillar of ice formed from a giant icicle, like at left. Here it was difficult to maintain your lateral balance on since it was so thin, and I ended up flailing my axe a few times to keep my balance. Overall it was pretty easy though. After a few climbs the ice started getting really soft and difficult to manage, and eventually I started pulling my axe right through the ice. This led to my second and last fall of the weekend, and I decided to call it a day due to fatigue and some serious soreness.
Afterwards we headed to the Noonmark diner for lunch and pie and then headed home to the sounds of NPR.
I’ve decided that ice climbing isn’t something I’m going to jump right into yet, as it’s still not as much fun as simply climbing mountains and is incredibly inexpensive. Rope, boots, carabiners, ice screws, ice axes, crampons, and belay devices will make you self-sufficient, to the cost of $1000+. However, I figure that once I start climbing peaks tall enough to be glaciated I’ll need this stuff anyway. All in due time.
I was in Berlin for four days and four nights near the end of February. Most cities would not be able to provide four days’ worth of entertainment for your typical 21-year-old American male. Well, in fact I didn’t cover even close to everything I wanted to. And this was four days of my ridiculously fast, subway-cruising tourist pace.
My Mom and Dad graciously came to visit me for a week in February, and we made our way from Amsterdam to Osnabrück, Hannover and finally Berlin. Amsterdam was nice but brief. The Van Gogh museum was fantastic; I would call it my favorite art museum (and artist) of all that I have seen. After a single night there we took a train to Osnabrück in the late afternoon. I was a bit curious as to how we would keep busy in Osnabrück but it actually wasn’t bad; luckily, we claim a few very fine restaurants. Unfortunately I had a million clerical things to do those last couple of days, so finally leaving Osnabrück was bittersweet yet relieving. So on Wednesday we drove to Hannover as kind of a pit stop on the way to Berlin. We didn’t have much time to do anything and just kind of walked around the city for awhile before dinner.
Finally on Thursday we made it to Berlin. First stop was Checkpoint Charlie and it’s adjacent museum, which was fascinating. It provided a good, quick history of the city that would end up being supplemented and reinforced several times at the other myriad tourist attractions. Afterwards we walked to Unter den Linden, the main street of former East Berlin. This street contains several of Berlin’s many museums and is terminated at one end by Berlin’s icon, the Brandenburg Gate.
At this point it sounds like I’m just going to be retelling each of the touristy things we did in chronological order. Well, that’s boring so I’ll just hit the high points:
Several things stood out for me in this city:
After two nights my parents needed to get back so they could make it to work on Sunday. I wanted to get on the same flight but it was prohibitively expensive, so I hung around for an extra couple of days to catch a cheap mid-week flight back to the USA. Naturally, I stayed at a youth hostel for dirt cheap and hung out with a bunch of like-minded traveling international kids. The first night I met a few kids at the hostel bar and we ended up going out at around midnight. After wandering around for a while we stumbled upon one of the hundreds of techno clubs of Berlin. It was big and very open, but at the same time had a bit of a cold atmosphere. I chalked up the lack of dance floor inhabitants to the fact that it was a sunday. Eventually we ended up at this reggae club down the street, and it was pretty much the exact opposite of the first club: warm, small, chill, and absolutely packed with people. Mind you, this was at 4 AM on a sunday night, and there were at least 150 people. I didn’t make it back to the hostel til after 5 (which, apparently, is early for Berlin). The next night I kinda took it easy since I had to get up early for my flight, and ended up downstairs at the bar singing karaoke with and to a rather large crowd of Dutch kids. This reaffirmed my opinion that Dutch people are cool.
The flight home was long and boring, and the initial jet lag really took it out of me. I was quite depressed near the end, especially when we finally touched down in New Jersey and it was completely clear that my European journey had at last come to a conclusion. All good things, alas, must eventually come to an end.
The day has finally come. On Tuesday I set my first foot on American soil in over five months, at Newark International Airport. I was pretty meloncholy for most of the (excruciatingly long, 9 hour) flight and am still getting over it. The things that I expected to be strange — not having to switch languages anymore, fighting crowds of fat people — haven’t actually been that bad. Just a lot of minor things that I have gotten used to are adding up to create a substantial feeling of disorientation. However I doubt it will take long to get back into school mode when I head back to RIT next week.
I’m writing this from home after my second full day back in Lewis County. It is, of course, as boring as it always been, with the addition of a large, ugly Walmart Supercenter on route 12. I don’t like the direction that’s going at all. So on Tuesday I landed, took a bus to Manhattan, helped a German girl get oriented with the city, and made my way up to Queens after meeting up with Brandon briefly. I was an exhausted, fatigued mess for most of the night and not very good company, but it was still great catching up. An extra six hours awake combined with some serious partying the last few days in the fantastic city of Berlin led to a sound night’s sleep. My parents picked me up in Utica after a 4.5 hour train ride (one of the stops was Amsterdam, NY…*sigh*) and we went out to eat and headed home.
Soon I’ll post about Berlin, complete with photos. It was a great choice as my European farewell city.
Last Friday Kevin and I embarked on our long-envisioned trip to
France. Kevin had mentioned wanting to go to Normandy to check out the
beaches and museums and whatnot to appease his self-proclaimed "WW2
geek" self; I figured it would be a cool trip, and said "what the
hell." So after not mentioning it for a few months we decided a
post-finals trip was in order. In typical Alec fashion, I organized
the logistics for the trip: transportation, accomodation. We would
both use rail passes and stay in cheap hotels/hostels. After
discussing the matter with our French friends, we decided to stay in
Caen, probably the largest city in Normandy, and then stay a couple
nights in Paris. After all, you can’t go to France without visiting
Paris.
Unfortunately we had to take separate trains, since my rail pass didn’t include Benelux (Belgium + the Netherlands + Luxembourg).
He booked a night train, while I couldn’t since I had to go way the
hell down to Frankfurt and then cut over so I wouldn’t go through
Belgium. This added an extra four hours to the trip, which sucked.
Thirteen hours on three separate trains wastes a good chunk of a day.
At around four PM we rendezvoused in our hotel in Caen, then promptly
took off to check out this castle in the middle of the city. It was
pretty sweet, and enormous. The walls were fully intact and the (dry)
moat remained. Soon thereafter it got dark so we started wandering the
city scouting out restaurants. After walking around a corner, we saw
this:
Just
in case you had any doubt as to the heritage of my name. Oh, and a
Brasserie is a type of Restaurant (actually we never quite figured out
what the distinguishment meant). It even had the space after "La" like
I was taught to spell it. However it was too expensive for our
tastes so we ended up having dinner near the castle, an exquisitely
delicious three-course meal complete with wine. I had this
potato-ground sausage concoction and Kevin tried the duck. Both were
fantastic. My escargot and sorbet were equally delicious; in fact, I
have never had a finer sorbet in my life. The hostess even called up a
friend who spoke English so we could have the menu translated. I
didn’t see this as necessary but Kevin actually wanted to know what he
was eating. I just assumed anything I ordered would be fantastic. I
think I would have been right.
The next day we got up early and headed to the car rental place down
the block. After 20 minutes we were cruising around Caen in a Renault
Twingo. It was a very basic car, but sufficient. We had a couple
pastries at a nearby bakery (you haven’t had a real croissant until
you’ve tried a French one, they are amazing). Afterwards we went to a
WW2 museum, and then took to the highway to the beaches. Unfortunately
speed limits exist in France so I only pushed the Twingo up to 160 or
so, briefly. Not driving for four months made me giddy. It was fun.
So we went beach-hopping for the rest of the afternoon. It was really
interesting; remnants of most parts of D-Day had been preserved, from
bombed-out fields to German artillery to the artificial port and
bridges constructed by the allies. Pictures are abound in the photo
album at left.
The next day we took off for Paris. Our amazing streak of good weather
came to end that day (I had been 4 for 4 with weather in France) and it
ended up being rainy and/or cloudy the entire time we were in Paris.
After adeptly navigating the Metro we found our hostel and checked in.
The hostel was tiny with about 5 floors of rooms, but only 2-3 rooms
per floor. It was noticeably cramped and our room hadn’t even been
cleaned before we got it. Whatever, it was cheap. So we took off for
lunch and to do some sightseeing. First stop was the Louvre.
The Louvre is one of the, if not the most well-known museum in
the world, and for a reason. The place is absolutely gigantic. It
takes up about five city blocks. However, I wasn’t really that
impressed. I can only see depictions of Jesus so many times before I’m
bored to tears. And there was so much to see it was rather
overwhelming. Somehow I wandered into the Italian wing, which was
noticeably more popular. I didn’t even know the Mona Lisa was there
until I saw the crowd of people gawking at it. I was unimpressed: it’s
about the size of a pillow and I had seen a million prints beforehand.
Not sure what the big deal is with that painting.
Afterwards we checked out the Arc d’Triumphe, this enormous arch built
to celebrate the French revolution. Surrounding it is the largest
traffic circle I have even seen, with room for about 15 lanes of cars.
Watching the traffic was hilarious since there aren’t any lanes for
cars and about 10 exits on the outside; we witnessed about five
near-accidents in as many minutes.
Next was the Eiffel Tower. We approached it from the Metro so it
really snuck up on us; when turning a corner it just presented itself
about 100 yards away. By this time it was dark and the Tower was lit
up spectacularly. We declined to go up to the top since it costed
11€. Friggin tourist attractions anyway. We only basked in the glow
of the Tower for a few minutes since it was cold and raining, and
subsequently headed back to the hostel to watch the Olympics over a few
(overpriced) beers.
Having already seen the main things we wanted to see, we slept in on
Monday. At around 10 we went to a bakery for some breakfast goodies,
and in the process of ordering I left my wallet on the counter. I
didn’t notice this until we had left, and started freaking out. After
a quick deduction of possibilities as to where the hell I had left it,
we went back to the bakery, where the cashier had seen it and
graciously placed it behind the counter. A string of "Merci"s later,
we hit the Metro again. First stop: cemetery. "Why the hell would you
go to a cemetery" you ask? Why, to pay my respects to Jim. Morrison.
And apparently the guy’s still quite popular, because there were a
couple dozen bouquets of flowers on his grave. Afterwards we trained
over to the Notre Dame. It was remarkably similar to the other large
churches I have visited throughout Westerm Europe: large, ornate, and
swarming with tourists. We didn’t stay long, and after lunch, walked
about 50 blocks to the Musee d’Orsay. This was actually the museum I
had had in mind when we went to the Louvre, since it has more of the
stuff I’m interested in. Unfortunately it’s closed on Mondays. This
pissed me off quite a bit since we had walked for about 40 minutes to
get there, and instead resumed wandering the streets of Paris. I tired
of this after a few hours and we headed back to the hostel to shoot the
shit with the French bartender and watch more Olypics. That night
Kevin took off on his night train back to Osna and I hung out with a
few backpacking Aussies and Canadians down at the bar.
I wasn’t really impressed with Paris; in fact, I enjoyed Caen more.
Maybe it was the weather, maybe the fact that I got to drive a car, or
maybe because it was cheaper and less touristy. In a broader sense, though, I really liked France, and solidified my outlook on it’s people, cuisine, and appreciation of the finer things in life. And I can’t get enough of that super sexy French accent. Yum.
…and my (seemingly) insurmountable workload ceases to exist. A semester of almost no work or studying yields a week of nothing but work and studying. I wouldn’t have it any other way, and apparently neither would the Europeans…
No travel means nothing really interesting to write about. Well, actually not true, just nothing suitable for the (mostly) high standard I have set for this blog. Over the next 2-3 weeks I will be visiting Caen, Paris, Amsterdam, Berlin, and possibly some other cities in between. Gotta go out with a bang.
February 28 I return stateside.
Blog. I’m quickly growing tired of the term. It’s kind of like "hot" in pop culture ("omg that’s soooooo hot") or "stress" of the 90s ("dude, stop stressin’ it"). In reality it’s just a "hip" way of saying web-log, or web-journal, or the space you can rant about whatever you want to the entire world.
Over the past few days I’ve learned quite a few things about blogs in general (through a former RIT student’s new company that I just happened to stumble upon via Google), as well as my own audience for this blog. I’m proud to say that I didn’t learn a thing from the aformentioned site’s "writing for the web" article (guess I’m just a natural), but his views on human interfaces and the world of blogging were quite interesting. Also, I had thought that my audience was almost entirely family, but in reality it’s only a part. This was due to the large proportion of comments coming from family rather than friends. After all, comments are my only form of direct feedback relating to the blog, so through them I perceive my audience. Tell me what you think!
I should mention that TypePad keeps fairly detailed statistics on the traffic coming to the site (including referrers), so I have a fairly good idea of the volume of visitors I get to the blog and related photo albums. However, it’s impossible to tell exactly who has been frequenting this site, so all you freaky voyeurs out there are safe (well for now, until I install an automated IP-address identification tool…hahaha, kidding…I’m not that vain).
All in all, though, I am pleased with the traffic and positive feedback, and am very glad I started this site in the first place. But we all know communication is a two-sided activity, and each party motivates the other…so don’t be afraid to drop a line.
Blog bliggity blog blog bloggity bliggity blogg!
Right before Christmas break started our Methods of AI class was assigned a programming assignment, to be due the second monday of classes after break. This left the class an ample four weeks to do the necessary research, ask questions, and program a solution. Naturally, I never even glanced at any of my course materials over the entire break (it’s called vacation for a reason). These three weeks of zero academic responsibility weren’t very good for my self-motivation skills; thus Friday rolled around and I still hadn’t started the assignment. In class, near the end, someone spoke up about having a lot of tests next week and how it would be difficult to study and complete the project over the weekend. We had a short discussion and our professor said he would think about it and to keep an eye on our email inbox over the weekend. So, saturday rolled around and I spent a few hours working on it, getting accustomed to the domain of the problem (a formal logic representation of a travel problem). I hosted a party that night, which was great, and left me rather hungover for a good chunk of Sunday. At around 3-4 I started really attacking the problem, and by 11 PM or so I was ready to start the programming aspect (after completing the logical representation part). Midnight rolls around and I’m progressing well, until I hear that the extension had indeed been given. Just before midnight the professor had emailed everyone in the class to give the extension, 12 HOURS before it was due! This was so outrageous (extensions of any sort are laughably improbable at RIT, not to mention weekend communication with professors) that I immediately ceased working on the project, and instead am writing what you’re currently reading. Hahaha, oh yes.
Europe is great.
But it’s too bad I just chugged all that coffee…
Skiing in the Alps lives up to it’s hype…and then some. It was easily the best skiing I have enjoyed in my life, and I don’t think there exists a better place for it…there’s a reason why all the winter olympic alpine competitions are dominated by the Austrians and Swiss.
I spent five full days and six nights in Bad Gastein, Austria. The train ride down was around 10 hours, but passed fairly quickly as I had reservations on each train and slept for at least half the ride. Very nice, since I was battling a pretty fierce cold at the time. I changed trains at Hannnover and München, and rode all the way into Bad Gastein, directly south of Salzburg and in the heart of the Alps.
In total there are three villages and five very skiable mountains in the spectacular Gastein valley. Some of the mountains are connected by trails, but most you have to take a bus to. Check out this link for a map of the area (Just download the .gif provided at the bottom if the navigation doesn’t work). Each mountain has it’s own character, and fantastically varied trails are abound (supposedly 860 km of them total in the valley).
So at 4:30 PM or so I arrived in Bad Gastein. By then it was dark out and snowing very heavily. Hardly anything was plowed so I had to haul my enormous suitcase through 3-4 inches of snow until I finally reached the hostel. After checking in and taking a shower I headed upstairs to have some dinner and a few beers with a few English dudes, who I ended up hanging out with for the first few days. The hostel was really great, the dorms were downstairs and had a nice, big, clean shower/bathroom/washroom area. Upstairs there was the reception area connected to a large, cozy TV room area with a few computers for internet access. I must say I have missed TV in my few months here in Germany, so I spent a lot of time soaking up its glow. Also there was a dining room (serving delicious Austrian food) and two bars, the downstairs one looking more like a sauna than a bar. It was completely decked out in wood from ceiling to floor and was pretty cozy. In another room was the (free) breakfast-eating area, with a view of the slope across the street.
Sometime that night I had a weird feeling of fluid build-up in my ears…turns out they had gotten inflamed during the day. Thus, the next morning I woke up early and sought out a doctor (never had an ear infection that I can remember), who gave me some antibiotics. After picking up skis and a lift ticket, I headed to the mountain.
The view from the hostel, looking at the bottom of
Stubnerkogel (click to enlarge)
The lift you see there is the one I headed up after a short wait. It is a nice, fast gondola going all the way to the summit. I never timed how long it took, but I want to say around 10-15 minutes or so (Definitely longer than it would take to get down 
So I skiied all day, all on Stubnerkogel’s front slopes. It was a pretty messy day and I spent a good part of it tumbling down the slopes after mishandling a ski/myself/my speed. Soon this would change, and by the end of the day I had almost gotten my legs back.
The next day I got up early (it had snowed all evening) and was determined to hit some of the fresh show. And did I ever, oh my. It was a bit clearer that day (first day at the summit the visibility was about 20 meters) so I realized there was a trail I hadn’t realized existed going to the back of the mountain. I took it and was rewarded with the finest skiing of my life. The slopes were nice and steep, but more importantly with a fresh 3-4 inch layer of white, crisp, virgin snow. I was in ecstacy the first few runs; it’s indescribable how enjoyable carving nice long turns is in such snow. Furthermore, it was still snowing, and the kind where you can see the unique character of every single flake as it lands on your glove. Fantastic. After a view luscious runs I made my way down to Skizentrum Angertal, then up the facing mountain, Schlossalm, for the first time. It was still early enough that the wait was short, and I headed up. For the first run I took one of the intermediate side trails all the way to the bottom, and it was great. Like skiing through butter. It wound back and forth, both down gradual and very steep pitches under arched bridges and sharp, narrow paths to the bottom. That ended up being the most enjoyable run of my life, and I never did run it again because I knew it wouldn’t compare to the first. At the bottom I waited forever to get onto the lift up (by this time I was in Bad Hofgastein). The lift here was actually a kind of railway shuttle that took 85 people at a time. Once you got off that there was another wait for the next type of shuttle to carry you to the top (Think of a gondola, but 15x bigger and carrying 85 people at a time). At the top I did a few runs and spent most of the day on Schlossalm, eventually skiing my way back to Bad Gastein by 4 PM.
The next day was clear and beautiful. The downside was a lack of fresh snow to ski on. Ah well, I can’t have everything. My goal for the day was checking out the rather intimidating expert trail on Stubnerkogel as well as the 14km (8.7 mile)-long H1 trail on Schlossalm. The expert trail was kinda dumb, just a steeper version of the trails above and nice and icy where everyone had scraped the snow off. My solution was finding pockets of collected snow to turn on, otherwise I would just slide down the ice and wipe out. The H1 trail was legendary (it runs behind a large shoulder of Schossalm, separated from all the other trails) and I took a lot of pictures. Eventually I made it back up and wanted to take advantage of its layout without stopping to take a picture every 100m. So I bombed down it like it was meant to be skiied.
By the fourth day I had tired of Stubnerkogel/Schlossalm and wanted to check out something else. At this point I was a better skiier than I had ever been and was feeling pretty confident, so I was looking for some more challenging runs. Apparently Sportgastein had some unmaintained "natural" runs so I wanted to take a bus over there. Unfortunately (at the time), the first bus I hopped on went to Graukogel instead. So I thought I’d check out the runs and head over to Sportgastein for the afternoon since this would be my last day of skiing. Well, after a few runs I realized that Graukogel was pretty kickass in its own right (even though the lifts were slow 2-seaters). It had 3 real nice expert-level trails, 2 of them covered in moguls. I was totally into moguls by this time as they were the only real challenge left, and ran them for most of the day. The blue side trail was very nice too, winding with lots of room for creativity (read: taking "shortcuts" through the woods). I never made it to Sportgastein for I was having far too much fun.
Most of that evening was spent at the bar, and eventually at a club down the street with a few Aussies and other Americans. The next day was pretty slow, so I sat around watching movies and eventually checked out the spa cuz it was supposedly world-renowned. Well, it was pretty damn nice and put the spa here in Osnabrück to shame. The best part was the outdoor heated spa area. You sit in a pool of bubbly, 32°C water while breathing in the fresh, crisp mountain air. Then you go and run around in the snow for awhile, pegging one another with snowballs until you realize you’re freezing, at which time you jump back in the water. Fun stuff.
That night I was to catch a 9 PM night train to Essen in northern Germany. Well, I showed up at 9 and looked at the board (each train station has a board listing the daily train schedule for the stop) and realized my train wasn’t there. This put me off a bit but I waited for a half-hour or so anyway, then walked back to the hostel thinking the train didn’t exist. The really nice kid at the desk heard my story and called Die Bahn, who said the train was late, really late. So I headed back to the train station and waited for an hour or so before running into the conductor, who graciously told me my train had come and gone. Thanks for the announcement at 9, asshole. So I booked another night at the hostel and took a 9 am sunday train back to Salzburg, München, Hannover, and eventually Osnabrück. Sans reservations, which sucked.
Looking back on it, I should have bought a five-day pass and explored Sportgastein that fifth day. No matter though, for I will be back. Someday, I promise. It’s just that good.