Category: Personal

Anything and everything about me and my life. You’ll have to hunt a lot for gossip-worthy tidbits, though.

Questions existentielles de voyageuse à Montréal [fr]

[en] As the editor for ebookers.ch's travel blog, I contribute there regularly. I have cross-posted some of my more personal articles here for safe-keeping.

Cet article a été initialement publié sur le blog de voyage ebookers.ch (voir l’original).

Me voici à Montréal. Troisième jour à l’hôtel, sans mettre les pieds dehors, parce que j’y suis venue pour y donner une conférence à l’occasion d’Intracom, qui se termine aujourd’hui.

J’ai ajouté une semaine de vacances à mon séjour. Quand on traverse l’Atlantique, autant que ça en vaille la peine! Et hier, pourtant, une fois ma conférence donnée, je me suis trouvée un peu démunie face à cette semaine à remplir. Inutile de dire que je n’avais rien planifié avant mon départ! Même pas mon logement, préférant nettement mieux m’incruster (gentiment!) chez l’habitant pour découvrir le pays de l’intérieur (entre le réseau des blogueurs, Twitter, et Couchsurfing, je sais que je cours peu de risques de me retrouver à la rue).

Crédit photo: Wikimedia Commons

Continue reading “Questions existentielles de voyageuse à Montréal [fr]“

Bonjour de Montréal! [fr]

[en] Gave my talk in Montréal this morning, now, holidays!

Disons plutôt, bonjour de l’intérieur de mon hôtel à Montréal… Je n’ai pas encore vraiment mis le nez dehors! Mais comme j’ai donné ma keynote à l’occasion de la conférence Intracom il y a quelques heures, et qu’il me reste une bonne semaine sur place pour me reposer et explorer… Rien n’est perdu.

Quelques articles à mettre en ligne — les dix jours avant mon départ ont été horriblement chargés, je l’avoue. Le dernier module de cours de la formation MCMS au SAWI (qui s’appellera MSCL l’an prochain… inscriptions ouvertes en passant, hâtez-vous!), une journée de formation à donner à Genève là au milieu, préparer conférences et cours, régler les affaires administratives en cours, faire les valises et sauter dans l’avion… j’avoue n’avoir pas vraiment eu le temps de souffler.

Les deux semaines qui viennent s’annoncent tranquilles, touristiques, lectrices et blogueuses.

 

Semaine chargée! [fr]

Quelle semaine!

Le dernier module de la formation SAWI que je co-dirige, pour commencer, de mercredi à samedi. Je suis vraiment très fière de ce que nous avons accompli avec cette formation, des étudiants qui se sont lancés pour faire partie de cette première volée, des First Rezonance organisés, des échos et retours positifs de toutes parts… et je me réjouis de remettre ça l’année prochaine! (Avis aux amateurs…)

Vendredi, je fais une infidélité à la formation SAWI MCMS pour remplir un engagement pris de longue date: deux formations destinées aux enseignants à l’occasion du séminaire de formation continue “Pollens pédagogiques” de l’IFP, à Genève — en anglais et en français dans la même journée!

IntracomSignature2011-AvecDate Dimanche, je m’envole pour Montréal afin de donner une keynote à Intracom, mardi prochain. Je compte en profiter pour assister à la conférence, bien entendu, et passer ensuite une petite semaine à découvrir la ville et la région (c’est la première fois que je vais au Canada, et donc à Montréal!)

Comme je suis super bien organisée, je suis encore à la recherche d’une bonne âme locale pouvant héberger cette suissesse aux cheveux roses du 13 au soir jusqu’au 20. Un grand merci à tous ceux et celles qui m’ont donné pistes et contacts à Montréal, je vais me mettre à les explorer, j’ai juste… pas encore bougé 🙁

Après (on n’est plus dans le contexte de la semaine chargée mais je vous dis quand même), je fait une escale d’une semaine à Londres pour y voir des amis. Et je compte maintenir mon rythme nouvellement retrouvé de blogueuse effrénée: il devrait donc y avoir de la lecture! (En passant: vous avez vu ce que je commence à faire sur le blog de l’eclau? là aussi, du mouvement en perspective.)

Rouverture des bureaux et reprise de la vie “normale” lausannoise: début mai.

Tears Do Heal — But Slowly [en]

[fr] Un retour d'Angleterre un peu difficile, des vagues de chagrin qui vont et viennent depuis trois mois que Bagha m'a quittée. Mais le chagrin, c'est notre réaction à la douleur de la perte. Le sentir, c'est avancer sur le chemin de l'acceptation.

I’ve had a handful of pretty miserable days upon my return from England. Feeling very sad again about Bagha’s death, and some other losses 2010 brought along with it. But this last couple of days have been better, because tears do heal, and spring is here.

Pencil Effect Sunday 26

Three months after Bagha’s death, I’m thankfully not bursting into uncontrollable tears in socially awkward settings anymore. It comes and goes. I might spend a week or ten days with hardly a tear, and then a wave hits and I’m going through stacks of tissues every day. I’m getting used to it.

I know I need to though, so I dive into the pain and grief when it comes — and when it’s appropriate to let myself do so.

When I’m “in”, it feels like my life is over, like it hurts so much that I’ll never get over it. It feels like some part of me will forever refuse to accept that he is dead and gone, refuse to accept that there is nothing I can do about it, and refuse to accept too that nothing will bring him back. It feels like I will never manage to move on and open my heart this much again, like I will be stuck in grief forever.

Of course I know this isn’t true, and outside of these moments of intense grief, I’m living my life pretty normally these days, despite my heavy heart.

But what I’m starting to understand — and understand really because I’m experiencing it — is that these moments of pain where I am so adamantly refusing to accept that Bagha has died, and I now have to live without him, are actually the very thing that is helping me accept it.

When I was told this it made immediate and perfect sense to me. I feel pain and sadness because I am facing the fact Bagha is dead. Even if my reaction (defense mechanism) to that pain is a futile refusal to accept that which is causing the pain (clearly a flavour of denial — “I want my cat back, I don’t want him to be dead”), it remains that if I am feeling that pain it is precisely because I am realizing or accepting a little more that my life from here onwards will be without him, and I have no choice in that matter.

That is why sadness and tears heal: they are the expression of a step forward in accepting a difficult reality. And though it feels sometimes that the steps are small and the road long, I know I am making progress, and that my heart will heal again.

Two Deaths [en]

[fr] Deux décès, l'un humain, l'autre félin, et mes réactions assez différentes aux deux.

Two heart attacks, even. The first is Bagha, you’ll have guessed. Jean-ChristopheThe second is Jean-Christophe, who was deputy head in the school I taught at and with whom I stayed in touch over the years: fellow blogger and lifter, I enjoyed our lunch-time conversations about social media, web technology, education and the various things of life. He was a really friendly, genuinely nice person. I didn’t know him very well, but we did hang out once in a while. He wrote a very nice piece about me for Ada Lovelace Day in 2009. He died almost exactly a month after Bagha.

I was very, very shocked by Jean-Christophe’s death — and remain shocked. You don’t expect young, healthy people around you to drop like a stone and die in the middle of a basketball match (he was 42, a regular player, didn’t smoke…). I was also shocked by Bagha’s death, but the grief was so great that I just couldn’t stop the tears for days on end, and it took over.

Two deaths, one human, one feline, one of a being who shared almost every single day of mine for 11 years, the other which I would see a handful of times every year. Two different reactions on my part. On a slightly “clinical” level, I’ve found it interesting to observe how I’ve been processing both these deaths. Beyond the obvious animal vs. human difference, I’ve realised that what really counts is the role they were playing in my life.

Jean-Christophe was a truly lovely person. His death pains me, and even though he was somebody I trusted (to the point of collapsing in his office during my first year of teaching when things were not going well at all) we weren’t close. He was somebody I knew and appreciated, a part of my network (our discussions revolved primarily around work and common interests, not each other’s lives). If I think of his family, my heart breaks for them, but I am not touched as if it were my family.

Not seeing Jean-Christophe is the normal state of my life, so beyond the shock of the announcement, I am not confronted much with his death. A couple of times I’ve thought “oh, I should ask Jean-Christophe if he knows somebody who…” and caught myself. Beyond the shock and discomfort of seeing the sudden death of somebody who is just a few years older than myself, and of knowing that a wonderful human being is no more, the impact of Jean-Christophe’s death on my life has been pretty minimal.

Maybe this minimal impact (compounded to the fact I was in India for the funeral so couldn’t attend and therefore share others’ grief) has allowed me to stay in some stage of denial — or maybe the fact he was a rather “weak tie” in my life simply makes the whole grieving process less painful and visible.

Eclau oct 2009 24Bagha, on the other hand, even though he was “just a cat”, was part of my everyday life for years and a primary emotional attachment. His loss is a huge disruption in my life, all the more because he was an elderly cat who had started to require care — some parts of my life were organized around him. Making sure somebody was there for him when I travelled, coming back home to give him his meds, being available to take him to the vet when things weren’t quite right.

Except when I was in India, I have not been able to “forget” his death much. The flat is lonely without a feline presence. Another cat naps on the couch at eclau (I’m happy about that, though). I’m still surprised that I can stay out when I hadn’t planned to. I can leave stuff lying around in the flat (even food) and nothing happens to them. Open cupboard doors are not important anymore. I’m not woken up at 6am by somebody furry who wants to be let out.

When somebody asks a group of people “who has a cat?” I have to keep my hand down now. I don’t have a cat anymore. I’m not a cat-owner. I’ve had a cat since I was nine, even though my first cat, Flam, lived at my parents’ for three years when I moved out, and I was briefly catless between her death and the moment Bagha officially became “my” cat. But being a cat lover and owner has always been a big part of my identity, which I feel I have now lost (risky parallel: does it feel like that to long-time smokers who give up the cancer-stick?). Of course, I will have cats again (after India early 2012 is the current plan), but right now, I’m part of these petless people.

Almost everything in my life reminds of his death. I still have a photo of him as background image for my iPhone, because I’m not sure when the right moment to change it would be, and what to replace it with. Though I’m slowly rebuilding a layer of habits and memories of my new life without him, I feel his loss almost every day — some days worse than others.

This makes me realize that in a way, it is less the intrinsec value of the being who died (who would dare put a cat’s life before that of a human being?) than the role played in one’s life and one’s emotional attachment that determines the amount of grief. Sounds obvious, uh, nothing new under the sun here. But it has another taste when you’ve reached the conclusion all over again by yourself.

Frustrations comptables: banques et logiciels, c'est pas encore ça! [fr]

Pour diverses raisons sur lesquelles je ne m’étendrai pas, je songe à la possibilité de reprendre en main ma comptabilité, après l’avoir déléguée (avec bonheur) durant plusieurs années.

Ma comptabilité n’est pas très compliquée: des factures pour mes clients, des frais à déduire, hop. Je pourrais faire ça dans un tableur (<3 Google Docs, c’est ce que j’utilise depuis deux ans pour la compta de l’eclau et ça va très bien).

Oups, ça vient de se gâter. Voyez, moi, la compta, c’est pas mon truc. Ça me fait un peu l’effet que doivent faire les médias sociaux à certains d’entre vous: important, mais compliqué, et bon sang, par où on commence, et ça s’appelle comment, ça?

Ça vient de se gâter parce que j’ai dit “compta” au lieu de “faire les écritures” ou quelque chose comme ça. Mon bilan, je vais laisser faire ça aux professionnels. Mais c’est les écritures, et le côté “garder un oeil sur les sous”, qui m’intéresse.

Donc, tableur, très bien. Je note les entrées et les dépenses, je fais des petites catégories qui rentreront dans le plan comptable, nickel.

Sauf que Philippe (coworker de l’eclau, justement) me montre qu’il y a des programmes qui arrivent à causer avec Postfinance ou d’autres banques et à importer directement les écritures. Vous imaginez comme ça me fait saliver, ça.

Hop, ni une ni deux, je pars en exploration. Chez Crealogix, PayMaker, le programme dont m’a d’abord parlé Philippe. Je fouille un peu, je demande sur Twitter. MacPay. Crésus semble un poil cher. Je télécharge les deux premiers en version d’évaluation.

Premier constat, désolée, mais c’est pas très user-friendly. (“Moche”, je me permettrai pas — mais un peu clunky.) Probablement que c’est pas très user-friendly parce que je suis une complète pive quand il s’agit de finances et donc que je ne comprends pas bien à quoi doit servir le programme, ni les différentes choses qu’on peut faire avec.

Deuxième constat, ça semble surtout être des programmes de saisie d’ordres de paiement. J’en ai rentré un dans MacPay mais impossible de trouver comment “l’envoyer” (j’utilise probablement pas le bon vocabulaire).

Bref, c’est décourageant.

Je retourne à mon plan initial, le tableur. Ma compta n’est pas bien compliquée… Mais j’ai eu l’espoir de ne pas avoir besoin de recopier toutes les écritures déjà saisies dans mon compte en banque, et j’avoue que j’ai de la peine à lâcher l’idée. Mais oui! Il y a une fonction d’exportation des transactions, non?

Je me précipite dans Postfinance. Misère, on nous sert du PDF. La BCV, ça semble plus prometteur: exportation vers Excel. Bon sang, pourquoi n’ai-je jamais utilisé cette fonctionnalité? J’exporte, et j’ouvre dans NeoOffice. Ah oui, je me souviens: ce n’est pas un joli petit tableau bien propre qu’on nous sert, mais une espèce de machin qui ressemble plus à du Word fait dans Excel qu’autre chose.

Messieurs les banquiers (ou plutôt, messieurs les qui-développez-des-interfaces-ebanking), serait-ce trop vous demander de pouvoir simplement exporter mes transactions en format .csv? Tout bêtement?

On ne va pas baisser les bras, je suis une acharnée. Peut-être qu’en copiant-collant les transactions listées dans mon interface e-banking je peux m’épargner quelques précieuses minutes de frappe. Ben là aussi, déception: la BCV est laconique au possible dans ses libellés de transaction (“BCV-NET”, ça indique bien que c’est le paiement de mon assurance maladie, juste? et “BCV-NET”, c’est aussi les paiements de ma facture téléphonique? oublions…) et Postfinance pèche par excès de zèle dans l’autre direction, me donnant jusqu’à dix lignes d’informations dans le libellé de chaque transaction (je vous juge, j’en ai même vu une qui indiquait la date de naissance du créditeur… presque).

Bah.

Comme me l’a fait remarquer Julien, c’est quand même dingue que ce soit aussi mauvais: on a tous des comptes en banque. On utilise tous (bientôt tous) l’e-banking. On a tous besoin de garder un oeil sur ses finances, même si ce n’est “que” à titre personnel. Et les outils qu’on a à disposition pour le faire sont franchement pénibles à utiliser — mauvaise UX autant que fonctionnalités inadaptées.

Développeurs et spécialistes UX, je crois qu’il y a un besoin à remplir, là.

Sinon, prouvez-moi que j’ai tort de me plaindre ainsi amèrement. Montrez-moi l’outil facile à appréhender, agréable à utiliser (et à l’oeil, ça ne gâche rien), qui automatise au maximum le suivi des mes finances, tout en me laissant suffisamment de flexibilité pour l’adapter à ma situation personnelle. Dites-moi ce que je n’ai pas compris et qui fait que je ne trouve rien, peut-être, parce que je cherche au mauvais endroit. Je serai ravie de m’être lamentée pour rien sur ce blog.

Things I Enjoy Doing For My Friends [en]

[fr] Une liste de choses que j'aime faire pour mes amis, comme démonter les ordinateurs, aider à déménager, remplir les coffres de voiture ou lire la carte.

– Putting together ikea furniture
– Fitting stuff in cellars, car boots, suitcases, fridges or other limited spaces (makes me a valuable asset when moving)
– Taking computers apart and putting them back together (preferably upgrading bits and pieces in the process)
– Installing and upgrading programmes or the OS (mac only!)
– Reading the map
– Explaining finer points of French grammar or spelling
– Light DIY (no drilling in walls)
– Unboxing things

What are yours?

Of Grief and Travel [en]

[fr] Retour d'Inde, et je pleure mon chat comme il y a un mois, après une sorte d'interruption où le deuil a gentiment glisser sous le tapis. M'habituer à son absence alors que je suis ailleurs, dans un contexte complètement étranger, c'est une chose. A la maison, cela va prendre nettement plus de temps.

As all of you must know by now, my cat Bagha died just ten days before I was due to leave on a month-long trip to India, my first “real” (understand: three weeks or more) holiday in many years. It’s been a horrible, horrible loss for me — and if at this stage you’re thinking “just a cat”, switch to “11 years of life together”. I cried every day until I left, and was still very upset when I arrived in India.

Ready to Pounce

At some point, in India, I stopped crying. Different context, people around, not much privacy, but mainly, I think, lots of exciting Indian life and people to keep me busy. Over a month, I had plenty of time to settle down in my holiday-life over there — and holiday-life and travel clearly never involved having Bagha around.

When Bagha was alive, I would miss him when I was travelling. The first days would be the worst, and then I would get used to it and stop thinking about it. After a few weeks, though, I’d be really looking forward to seeing him again. It was part of what would draw me back home.

So, maybe I was just following my normal travel-pattern here too.

Coming back has been really hard. In all honesty, it feels pretty much like I’m back to where I left off before my travels. A few things have changed, though — the work of time: I’m not in shock anymore (I’ll talk about shock in a later post about another recent death), and I don’t really expect to see Bagha sleeping on the couch or on the bed when I enter a room. I still have “where’s the cat?” or “I need to get the cat” moments, though. Many times a day. and I’m going through a lot of tissues again.

I don’t know if this “break in grief” was a good thing — not that I regret going to India at all, and I immensely enjoyed my time there — but I remember wishing I had “more time” before leaving while I was preparing my bags and departure.

Bangalore 142 Fancy Buildings.jpgWhat this trip has shown me, though, is that life goes on. Or at least, that I can rebuild a life for myself. This is very similar to what my year in India showed me: that I could start from scratch somewhere and find friends, have a life, be happy enough. (I write happy enough because generally, that’s how I am — “happy” on its own has not often been a general state in my life, though it’s a regular short-term feeling.)

But life elsewhere without my cat and life at home without my cat are not the same thing.

I'm Home [en]

[fr] Je suis rentrée. En Suisse, il fait gris et froid et Bagha est mort. Retour à prendre au jour le jour, en me félicitant d'avoir prévu une reprise en douceur après ce mois de décrochage.

I’m home.

Back in cold grey Switzerland, back to my dead cat and other losses that were put on the back-burner while I was in India.

Sorry for the gloom. There isn’t even snow to make things a little fun and exciting.

To be honest, I don’t feel really home. “Home” has lost a bit of its “homeness” without Bagha.

Part of the love I’ve had for my cozy flat these last ten years was because Bagha was here. Not all of it, but part of it. I used to always look forward to coming home after a trip, because it would mean being back with my cat. I missed him when I was away.

OK, maybe I’m painting the picture a little rosy in hindsight. Maybe I didn’t always look forward to coming home from my travels. But I was always happy to see Bagha again. I always looked forward to that.

Of course, it’ll get better in the coming days. I’ll see my friends again, rediscover the comfort of Swiss life, get working on my projects here (both personal and professional).

And scatter Bagha’s ashes in the garden.

Even now, all is not bad. It’s quiet. I have privacy. There is cheese.

I miss India already, though. You know, Nicole, I think I understand what you meant a couple of months back when you told me that you loved and hated it here, because I think I feel the same about India. I love it there. But some things also drive me nuts and make me thing “OMG I’m so glad it’s different at home”.

I’m going to spend more time in India. Two weeks scheduled in October (Delhi, Hindi tutoring) and most certainly January 2012, like this year. I have plans. Go back to the lovely homestay in Mysore. Visit a village near Pune where a friend has relatives. Go to Goa (yeah, even though it’s your cliché tourist destination). Spend a couple of days in Mumbai with Reality Tours and Travel. Plan a trip to Rajasthan (a lead and contacts showed up a week ago). In Pune, visit Parvati temple, the Aga Khan Palace, and one of the hill forts without giving up halfway there. Take Marathi classes. I could go on.

India is huge, diverse, exciting, chaotic. It’s a mess. The disregard for safety and rules can be maddening, but it’s also a healthy release from our coddled and controlled lifestyle here in the West.

I’m home now. A little anxious about how the next days will go, but I’ve decided to take it day by day. Today: unpack, check the state of my bank account and bills to pay, make a few appointments, go to judo. Tomorrow: go to a few appointments. Wednesday: dive into three days of Lift.

Indian Stretchable Time [en]

[fr] En quelques mots? Pas envie que mes vacances se terminent.

You what what they say about time in India: IST doesn’t stand for Indian Standard Time, but for Indian Stretchable Time. I think it’s pretty obvious to anybody who spends enough time here that the perception of time is very different here than in Europe, for example.

Pune 142 Laxmi Road Shopping.jpg

Holiday-time is also different from work-time. Days stretch ahead when your holiday is long enough. You forget what day of the week it is. You lose track of how long you’ve “been here”. You spend a whole day in Lightroom and fooling about online without worrying about being “productive”. You get up when you get up, don’t worry too much about mealtimes (especially if that is taken care of by your hosts), forget about your upcoming plans and deadlines.

And suddenly you realize there is less than a week left before you’re back in Switzerland, back to work-life, back to processing e-mails, back to a catless flat, back to earning money and paying attention to how much you spend, back to the cold and grey winter, back to everything you left behind.

Let me say it clearly: I don’t want my holiday to end and I don’t want to go back.

Of course, I look forward to seeing my friends again — but I’ll miss the people I love here. And I am very grateful I took example (partially) on danah and decided to send all my holiday e-mail into the black hole — meaning I will be coming back to work without an e-mail backlog to catch up on.

But right now I really don’t want to go back to my life.

We had a really nice time in Bangalore and Mysore. My Bangalore photos are online now, but I haven’t got around to sorting through the Mysore ones yet, or writing all the articles I want to write — as if putting it off was going to extend my holiday. (Articles? Bangalore Walks, Hillview Farms Homestay, Security Theatre in India, some thoughts on Indian culture in the light of independence and colonial legacy, a whole bunch of Indian recipes…)

I’ll go back to reading my book or hanging out on Quora now, while Nisha makes lovely-smelling chapatis next to me and the dogs nap on the cool stone floor.