Having lunch in a grad school cafeteria can be a traumatizing experience. I was hungry today so I decided to take my chance and eat in the "mensa" of a very famous Italian graduate school. Well ... that... hurt.
I've never liked the prison/church/sanatorium atmosphere that I encountered there every time I had to pay a visit. The Institute is situated on one of those beautiful hills surrounding Florence, but it is quite well insulated from the outside world. It has all the facilities one needs to study and nothing even remotely resembling living. Surviving for the noble purpose of producing a research - for sure. But living... not really. What strikes me the most is that I've never heard anybody laughing out loudly. There is this constant background humming, of moderately low voices, but not even accidentally somebody raises the tone to say something. No, no... I DO NOT mean yelling. I mean just somebody bursting into laughter, or saying something to somebody a bit farther. Or some uncontrolled giggle in the library. Just the civilized voice, a bit louder than whispering but not too much, only for the neighbours to hear.
At 2 o'clock they serve lunch and the disciples of science come to eat in the "mensa". They gather in small groups, based on two criteria - ethnicity and research interest. People are rarely quiet or alone - they need to make their networks, so they interact as much as possible. Still, they do not stare at the others. Of course they would notice their supervisor passing by, and then the ass-kissing job will take over, but otherwise... they are all ears and eyes to their group. If you start listening to some conversations, you find out that most of the conversations are either political debates or discussions about a thesis. Even when there are those gorgeous spring days, when the view is breath-taking, nobody simply stares at the scenery - at most, they start taking pictures of each other with the mobile phone, under the blooming magnolia tree.
The girls are almost all trying to be pretty. Dressed more or less casual, they try to prove that you can be both sexy and smart (I would like to point out that shaving those armpits might increase your chances .... and yes, this is for the girl who ate at the table in front of me today. Please, pretty please, do not EVER, under any circumstances, mix again a spaghetti dress with ... those things. However, thanks for keeping me slim and fit). I didn't manage to figure out why exactly, since most of the guys start looking interesting after at least one month of "robinson-crusoe-ing", but let's say it's just a matter of taste.
I tried once to go to the Friday evening bar, suggestively named "Fiasco". I do not know if it was purposedly called like this or it's just a weird concidence, but that bar is the best proof that there is life after death. Thanks God, they have alcohol and a table football. Oh yes, and a pool table as well, but after a lot of alcohol football does come easier. An evening spent with a bunch of highschool cheerleaders might be more rewarding. I can probably write a short novel about how each beer added improves the general perception, but I'll stop here. It's simply too boring to even yawn.
Today, while eating those sad spaghetti and staring at the people, I remembered Slawomir's skeptic eyes whenever we were talking about academia. I was at that time pissed that he is not more interested and active in my academic growth and development. He was my supervisor, he was bound to do this. Well... now I start getting an idea why he was so slow with this. He always helped me when I asked for help, but kept the incredulous look on his face. I noticed the same expression on my own face, while reflecting about my academic future. I know that having these ideas one year before getting my PhD is like wondering whether you actually want to be a parent in the 8th month of pregnancy, but they say it's better later than never.
I do not have any closing thoughts, I have not reached any conclusion. I'm barely starting to ask myself the questions... but who knows, maybe they are right when they say that half of the answer comes when formulating the right question...
At 2 o'clock they serve lunch and the disciples of science come to eat in the "mensa". They gather in small groups, based on two criteria - ethnicity and research interest. People are rarely quiet or alone - they need to make their networks, so they interact as much as possible. Still, they do not stare at the others. Of course they would notice their supervisor passing by, and then the ass-kissing job will take over, but otherwise... they are all ears and eyes to their group. If you start listening to some conversations, you find out that most of the conversations are either political debates or discussions about a thesis. Even when there are those gorgeous spring days, when the view is breath-taking, nobody simply stares at the scenery - at most, they start taking pictures of each other with the mobile phone, under the blooming magnolia tree.
The girls are almost all trying to be pretty. Dressed more or less casual, they try to prove that you can be both sexy and smart (I would like to point out that shaving those armpits might increase your chances .... and yes, this is for the girl who ate at the table in front of me today. Please, pretty please, do not EVER, under any circumstances, mix again a spaghetti dress with ... those things. However, thanks for keeping me slim and fit). I didn't manage to figure out why exactly, since most of the guys start looking interesting after at least one month of "robinson-crusoe-ing", but let's say it's just a matter of taste.
I tried once to go to the Friday evening bar, suggestively named "Fiasco". I do not know if it was purposedly called like this or it's just a weird concidence, but that bar is the best proof that there is life after death. Thanks God, they have alcohol and a table football. Oh yes, and a pool table as well, but after a lot of alcohol football does come easier. An evening spent with a bunch of highschool cheerleaders might be more rewarding. I can probably write a short novel about how each beer added improves the general perception, but I'll stop here. It's simply too boring to even yawn.
Today, while eating those sad spaghetti and staring at the people, I remembered Slawomir's skeptic eyes whenever we were talking about academia. I was at that time pissed that he is not more interested and active in my academic growth and development. He was my supervisor, he was bound to do this. Well... now I start getting an idea why he was so slow with this. He always helped me when I asked for help, but kept the incredulous look on his face. I noticed the same expression on my own face, while reflecting about my academic future. I know that having these ideas one year before getting my PhD is like wondering whether you actually want to be a parent in the 8th month of pregnancy, but they say it's better later than never.
I do not have any closing thoughts, I have not reached any conclusion. I'm barely starting to ask myself the questions... but who knows, maybe they are right when they say that half of the answer comes when formulating the right question...
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