Noctilucent Clouds.

During the summer months in Scandinavia, a very peculiar phenomenon can be observed at times in the night sky. If the conditions are right, the twilight heavens are illuminated by light, shining clouds. Such was the occasion this past week. As I was getting ready to turn in for the night, closing the living room window, a sight of pearlescence in the sky - resembling platinum glowing waves - greeted me.

Called Noctilucent Clouds, these consist of ice crystals and are the highest known clouds in the atmosphere. Positioned in the mesosphere at altitudes of around 76 to 85 kilometers - literally at the edge of space - they are not fully understood and are a recently discovered meteorological phenomenon; there is no evidence that they were observed before 1885.

Noctilucent clouds can be seen by observers at a latitude of 50 to 65 degrees and seldom at lower latitudes. Occurring during summer, from mid-May to mid-August in the northern hemisphere and between mid-November and mid-February in the southern hemisphere, they are very faint and tenuous, and can only be spotted in twilight at sunrise or sunset in the north cardinal direction. At this time the clouds of the lower atmosphere are in shadow and the noctilucent clouds are illuminated by the sun.

This was my second sighting, much better then the one I observed last June, particularly as the position of the clouds occurred in my immediate view to the north-northwest, on the still sunset coloured night sky.

To those who found this subject intriguing; please visit this audio slideshow on BBC page.

(Please click the image below for a larger view)

From Fair To Stormy.

Last week we experienced an unusual change in air pressure. According to the meteorologists, the variation in atmospheric pressure was unique in its extend. Within 24 hours, the pressure fell from 1044 hPa down to 990 hPa, a rare fall of more than 50 hPa.

I have an old barometer that I purchased, I believe, in Best (Home Furnishing) while living in North Carolina. It is combined with a thermometer and hygrometer as well, the last measuring the humidity of the air. I could clearly follow the fall in pressure as the indicator on the middle dial kept moving from fair to stormy.

I find it quite intriguing that the air which surrounds us and feels light and weightless actually has a certain mass. The force of the weight that it displays upon a certain area is what is called the air pressure. The air can also be compressed, that is the tiny particles, or molecules of various gases take up less room and thus the pressure elevates, or vice-versa.
The standard atmosphere (symbol: atm) is a unit of pressure and is defined as being equal to 101,325 Pa or 101.325 kPa, which corresponds to the weight of 14.696 lbs/sq2 (1.0333 kg/cm2) and is the average air pressure at sea level. This means hundreds of pounds of pressure are pressing at us from all sides and at all times. We are able to survive this pressure because the air in our bodies is under the same pressure as outside us. However, it can happen that the air around us can change suddenly and our bodies might not follow, such as when we ascent or descend in a plane. This is why we feel our ear pop, as our bodies try to equalize the difference.

Air pressure can also help us forecast the weather as well. If a high pressure system is on its way, this means cooler temperatures and clear skies. If a low pressure system is coming, the weather will be warmer, accompanied by storms and rain. Which is exactly what happened with our weather last week; we went from beautiful sunny day to a dreadful winter storm just within a course of twenty four hours.

The Days Of Twilight.

As the fall turns slowly into winter, we are experiencing a lack of daylight in Scandinavia. Not only have our days decreased, but the late autumn weather is usually very gray and rainy. The cloud cover can last for days, actually weeks, without us getting even a glimpse of the sun. In fact, I have not seen the sun for almost two weeks now.

The lack of sunshine effects the population of the North. It is considered one of the primary causes of seasonal affective disorder (SAD), a serious form of the "winter blues".
Foreigners from southern Europe, who spend extensive period of time in Scandinavia often say that they can deal with the bad weather and the cold, but the absence of sun and light makes them feel very depressed.

On a happier note, I can say that eventually, one can adapt. To a certain degree. I deal with the dark days days better today than I did about a decade ago. I try to find something positive in the season of the twilight days. Just like the nature and animals enjoy a certain kind of dormancy in the winter period, I guess even we can look at this season as a laid back time, when we get the privilege to rest and enjoy a time of tranquility.

The below image taken around 5PM out of my living room windows this past weekend, compared to the same views taken almost eight hours later, past midnight in June, illustrates very well the difference in light between summer and winter in my part of the world.

Colour Countdown.

The colours are ever so palpable all across the nature in my surroundings. It is now only a matter of a couple weeks before the foliage has lost every trace of green. It has been a calm Sunday weather-wise. There is almost no wind, which is very unusual and the sun is there in intervals. This is a quiet a difference considering that last week stormy weather passed through Denmark. It did some damage, even to our front yard, where it ripped off branches from a magnificent ash. It is indeed a shame as that tree displayed the most stunning red foliage in the end of October. Most of the tree still stands, as seen on the picture on the right, but it can not be compared to its former glory.
The branches that came down has been collected and are now lying in a pile in front of our birch tree. They will not go to waste but will be cut in a few weeks (hopefully with a help of a strong, handsome Irishman) into smaller pieces and will be stored on my terrace. Next year, after drying, the branches will become a great fire wood for my fireplace.

Below yet another update on our majestic birch tree. Most of its golden leaves were ripped away after last weeks storm, still, the colour countdown of its foliage turn is in full progress.

Stormy Weekend.

The storm is continuing today as well. Although it is partly sunny, the wind is very fervent. I do not like the wind. There is something about it that makes me anxious. A gentle breeze or a majestic wind that fills my lungs with fresh air and caressed my face upon a brisk walk is very welcomed. But a fierce wind, that can be damaging and devastating to trees and to people holds very little of my affection.

I hate seeing the birch trees just outside my windows bending to the bursting point and the sound the heavy gusts create in my chimney fills me with extreme unease. Even more unsettling is seeing the window pane of my windows facing west, against the wind, flex in and out, as if made of cardboard. I guess this fear comes from the fact that here autumn and winter wind storms can be destructive and have caused floods and damages to houses and people before. Our European storms, just like the Atlantic hurricanes are categorized and named. The last major storm, called Anatol occurred about ten years ago, just a few days prior to when I was returning from my nine year long stay in the US. It devastated parts of Scandinavia. The storm that I remember best from my years in my white house on the hill was Gudrun in January 2005. It vividly brought back my two hurricane experiences in the 90's and reminded me of the fact that nature's fury can never be underestimated.

Below my ongoing update of the birch tree, that slowly gains more colour by every passing week.

Summerlike 1st Of September.

The 1st Of September was a special term in my childhood.
It meant a "back to school" day when I was a child in Czechoslovakia. It symbolized the end of summer and the beginning of autumn, when the swallows would gather and fill the skies, while preparing for their long relocation to Africa.

Today, the first autumn month has begun. But today feels anything but autumn-like. The summer seems to have returned, even for just one day. And indeed, what a difference 24 hours can make.
Yesterday, for the first time in months, I had to turn on the head lights of my car while driving home from work. This always signifies the onset of the fall season, when the light is disappearing with an increasing speed. Each day, multitude of minutes are removed from our days and added to our nights.

I guess the weather Gods must have taken pity on us and decided to bestow upon us one last summer day. The sky is blue and clear, the air is warm and the sun is shining. Its rays are milder and coming from a lower angle then in the midst of June, but it is there.

And my mood was improved even more when I opened my mailbox and discovered a surprise surface mail.
A postcard.
A beautiful, hand written art by - and from - steviewren, my very talented blog-friend. I have seen numerous of her pictures and drawings on her blog, but let me tell you, it is nothing like seeing one in reality. Her style is so very unique; I love the way she uses colours and how she captures the essence of the people she draws.

Thank you so much 'Stevie' for taking the time to write to me and for the privilege of receiving a hand made card. In the modern world, when technology is moving forward with light speed and electronic correspondence has taken over the way we communicate, it feels unique to receive a handwritten mail.
Reading it is so much more personal and candid in every way.

The Danish Wind.

I do not like the wind, in fact I dislike everything about it. The way it rips through my hair and face, it creates one of the most unpleasant weather types I know. And unfortunately, I live in one of the most windy parts of the world.

I have learned to accept the obvious fact; it is almost never wind still in Scandinavia. As with every rule, there are exceptions. A few days in the midst of the summer, noticeable for being unusually warm, the wind is absent. But, these days are few and far between.
The Danish wind is one of its kind. And the Danes have very early on realized that it holds power, which can be harboured and used to supply us with energy. A leading nation in both manufacturing and the use of wind mills, Denmark is world renowned for capturing the incredible power, which the moving air holds within.

But to live in a windy country is not at all pleasant. At least not unless one is born here. To the natives, the wind is good and welcomed. Often the Danes tell me how much they enjoy the way the wind moves the air around. They love the feeling of it against their face and skin when taking refreshing walks along the beach. When I then list all the things I hate about the wind, they will state the very obvious; there is no wrong weather, only wrong clothes.

I live on the east coast, facing across a narrow sound islands and land, which make up the eastern Scandinavia. Therefore, these parts are still relatively protected from the direct hits of autumn and winter storms. However, the west coast and the north of the peninsula I call home are exposed to the raging waters of the Atlantic. Those parts of Denmark experience strong hurricane force winds on regular bases.

There is however one advantage that the windy conditions provide at all times. The air quality. It is constantly superb and pristine. Anyone living in a large metropolis knows how the pollution can obscure the sun and the sky, giving rise to curfews and causing long term effects on the health of its population.
Such problem are unheard of here. We do not use any air quality indexes or codes as the air is always clean and clear, in cities or in the country side. This is a fact that I try very hard to remember every time I walk out of my door and feel my hair sticking to my lipstick, smearing my makeup and making me freeze as I yet again underestimated the Scandinavia weather and am wearing the wrong clothes.

The below is taken a couple of weeks ago. What some would consider being a storm in progress, is only an absolutely regular Sunday afternoon weather.

A Thunderstorm.

I am not sure how I feel about thunderstorms. They both frighten and fascinate me. Yesterday morning, I awoke to the sound of a thunder in the distance. Thunderstorms are not uncommon in Denmark, but severe ones are.
This one turned out to be severe.

As I was having my breakfast some thirty minutes later, heavy, tropical rain was already pounding at my window panes. It looked like someone was poring water straight down from the skies. I immediately noticed that my cat started to behave strangely. He seemed very upset and anxious, crouching in the corner, his eyes large and dark as the night. I talked to him with laughter as he has experienced multitude of thunderstorms previously and has never acted this way when they were approaching. I guess I was becoming a bit nervous myself at this point, as the air grew suddenly very still; despite the fact that the rain has receded, menacing, low clouds were just overhead.

The thunder was by then really close and I could feel the storm was about to pass over my house. As I was finishing that thought, I was almost blinded by a strange electrical light and within a fraction of a second almost deafened by the incredible roar that followed, while the whole house shook. At this point, Batcat had already found shelter under my bed.

I am not sure if I received a direct hit, or if it was the neighbours recently renovated house and the brand new flag pole that was the target. All I know is that it scared the living daylights out of me. I learned later in the day that this was one of the worst thunderstorms on record in Denmark and it gave rise to destructive tornadoes further up north, something unheard of in this part of the world.

I feel that any powerful phenomenon in nature is fascinating, particularly when it can be watched safely. Thunderstorms are definitely natural light shows that fall under this category.
Already as a child, we were told that they were very dangerous and stories about "Balls Of Lightning" were circulated in our family, claiming to have been experienced directly by my aunt and cousin in their cottage in the Czech countryside. The lightning ball rolled down over the roof of the cottage; a scary encounter during a hot summer night about thirty years ago. Apparently in some of the neighbouring houses it even entered the house and flew across the room injuring its occupants.
I became severely afraid of thunderstorm when living in North Carolina and made sure I was never ever caught in one while outside.

The scientist in me is always interested in cold facts and therefore I can not help but quote the first few sentences about lightning, as listed by wikipedia:

"Lightning is an atmospheric discharge of electricity accompanied by thunder, which typically occurs during thunderstorms, and sometimes during volcanic eruptions or dust storms. In the atmospheric electrical discharge, a leader of a bolt of lightning can travel at speeds of 60,000 m/s (130,000 mph), and can reach temperatures approaching 30,000 °C (54,000 °F), hot enough to fuse silica sand into glass channels known as fulgurites which are normally hollow and can extend some distance into the ground. There are some 16 million lightning storms in the world every year."

Interestingly this means, that in the immediate vicinity of a lightning bolt, the temperatures are about 3x higher than the surface of the sun. I find it utterly fascinating, that such high temperatures can be created, even for a fraction of a second, here on Earth. Likewise, the fact that to this day it is not completely clear to scientists how lightning forms amuses me.
And I guess we all know that the safest place to be in a thunderstorm is inside a car, thanks to Mr. Faraday and his cage.

In recent years, more serious injuries and fatalities than ever before are reported as a result of lightning even as far up north as Scandinavia. Hoverer spectacular these natural events might be, I guess eventually one should at all times express a deep respect for nature and never underestimate its hidden fury.

Rhapsody In Rain.

Sunday On A Monday.

Thank you everyone for all your best wishes on my birthday! I appreciate them all, but I would very much like to thank the lovely and sweet Valentine for making me this special card (see below) - it is beautiful and so much me. Thank you again dear Valentine!


So why Sunday on a Monday? Because everyone was cheated out of my clematis update yesterday, therefore I am posting it today. (If anyone out there still follows this crazy update of mine.) This time around the photo has to be studied carefully, but it is very obvious that the honeysuckle is now being covered by a veil of clematis buds. They are just about to bloom, perhaps in a couple of weeks, depending on the weather.

And the weather is a topic for sure as it has turned for the worse. Yesterday it was still warm and partly sunny, but today, the winds are changing. Coming from the west, they bring cold humid air and that means unstable, cold, windy and wet weather.

I am split in my opinion on what I feel about this change. Part of me loves the heat and wants it back, but looking at the nature, I see it is suffering. The Scandinavian fresh and lush green is gone and everything appears dry and lifeless. The rain is vital in these parts and one can say almost a necessity. No matter how much I water my plants, they lack the vital benefits of the liquid of life that a summer rain brings.

A Taste Of The Tropics.

Scandinavian summers are short and elusive. This far up north, we live for the sunshine and can be found frolicing in it as soon as the first rays shine down on us in the early spring.

The climate here can be described as one long autumn season. The Gulf Stream keeps the climate temperate and very even and stable throughout the year. The winters are long, dark, windy but relatively mild and the summers are short, rainy, full of light but cold.
However, once in a while exceptions will defy the rule. In the winter, we can get hit by heavy snowstorms, which can cause traffic havoc and will confine us in our homes. Likewise, comes July, there can be weeks - and if we are lucky - months of very warm weather, once the wind blows from the right direction bringing hot and dry air and allowing the high pressure settle in over Scandinavia.
Such is the weather right at this moment. The air is still and hot, the sun is strong and everything is vibrant and alive. People as well. It is amazing what a change in the mental state of the mind good weather can bring. Combined with the light nights, this is the summer of my dreams. The only cloud on my blue skies is the realization that it is Sunday and I have to go back to work tomorrow; how unfair life can be at times. Additionally, this heat makes me lazy and at this point some of my plants are in need of trimming and pruning. As I sit on my terrace in the shade of the perfumed Honeysuckle and Jasmine writing this, I am already making excuses for why the gardening can wait until perhaps next week.

I also know, that in the evening my house will turn into a furnace, due to the large windows facing west. They act as the glass of a green house and comes evening, the temperatures inside rises at times to about 40C (104F), making it feel like a desert. Air-condition systems are not common in Denmark and the only relief is to open all the windows, hoping for a draft. However, I do not mind. While I sit inside in the early part of the night, and sweat profusely watching yet another magnificent sunset, I savor every minute, as I know that in a few months, this will all be a distant dream. I will be sitting in the same spot, submerged in darkness, covered with five blankets (at least) still freezing, while watching the cold city lights below.

Now back to my weekly clematis updates. Changes are less obvious with each week as the plant is now growing less and all its energy is spend on forming flowers. There are plenty of buds at this point, so lets hope they will all turn into lovely blue flowers in a few weeks. The honeysuckle is also unusually rich and majestic this year, hiding most of the clematis at this point.

As the changes are less pronounced, I decided to post a picture of the same spot as it looked some months ago, just to illustrate the big change the summer season brings each year.

My "Hurricane Radio".

I have a lot of objects in my home. Lots of stuff, as one would say. I guess I have developed affection for my possessions. Mostly this comes from the fact that I have moved around so much, I try relentlessly to hold onto objects as they make me feel safe.

Do you ever look around your home and see familiar objects around you and immediately feel waves of recollections streaming back? Almost everything in my house has a memory linked to it.

So does my hurricane radio.

I have experienced two hurricanes in my life and none of these experiences is something I want to relive again. The first one was hurricane Marilyn in 1995, while vacationing in the US Virgin Island. I was literally in the eye of the storm and have described this extensively in a previous post.
The second one was barely a year after in North Carolina. Although it was not a direct hit at that time, as I lived inland, it was still a very unsettling experience. In the autumn of 1996, the east coast was devastated by hurricane Fran. I lived in a second story (and the upper most) apartment and spend most of the night hugging my cat while sitting in the bathtub. The storm was strong and I felt at all times that the roof above me would be lifted by the strong winds and disappear. Most likely, the winds were never strong enough so far inland to do that, but I guess after living through one devastating storm, one gains respect for Mother Nature and its fury.

As with every storm of this kind, or any natural catastrophe for that matter, the worst is the aftermath.
Nothing is ordinary. There is no power, sometimes no water and everything comes to a stand still. The stores are closed and there is a state of emergency declared, with curfews implemented. It feels like being part of a war zone.

I will never forget the drive to work the following morning, seeing all the fallen trees and damages and collapsed power lines.
I also recall to this day my drive to the only open store in the area, the nearby K-Mart. We were let in one by one, given flashlights and let literally loose into the dark isles. All one could hear was the eerie silence, interrupted only by voices in the distance and dripping water from damage pipelines. I went there that day as I realized that it was terrible to be without power, but even more devastating to be without any communication. No radio, no TV. I wanted something that was powered by batteries so my mission that day was to purchase a battery driven portable radio. As luck would have it, I found one right away without needing to venture too far into the store. It was almost as if finding a treasure.

To this day the radio still works and use it every summer on my terrace. It works both on batteries and power, but I have never ever used it plugged. Considering that the power is different here, I most likely never will.

My Front Terrace.

It is a strange Saturday in every way. A far cry weather-wise from last weekend, when the air was warm, no wind to speak of and the sky was clear.
I am always amazed how wrong the meteorologists seem to be at all times – almost. When I woke up this morning and checked the weather forecast, they promised full sun. However, now it is mostly cloudy with a threat of rain. Not my kind of weather at all.

Yesterday was a bad day for me; expecting a quiet day at work, I found myself instead dealing with a serious problem with one of the instruments, while I was all alone in the lab and the boss being currently out of town. This incident ruined not just my day, but also my night, which was sleepless and restless. Even today I can get a “creepy” feeling from time to time. I know I did the best I could, but I cannot help but wonder in retrospect whether I did all that I could anyway.

But, it is all in the past and if I have learned anything at all from previous experiences, it would be to try not to worry about something that is done and over with.

Even though it is cloudy now, this morning was sunny and I got to enjoy a moment of brief sunshine sitting on my front terrace, while having my morning coffee. As much as I love my back terrace, I have in recent years started to enjoy quiet mornings at my front terrace as well.

My house is a one out of five chain houses, all attached to each other forming an L shaped enclosed yard, which we all share. Each house however owns a small piece of land both in front and in the back of the houses. Although they all look the same from the outside, the houses are very different from each other both in size and layout. The size of land owned varies as well. I guess mine is the biggest front terrace. For many years I did not get to use it to its full extend as it was way to open and not very secluded. Five years ago however I realized that the two small decorative trees lining the terrace were attacked by some sort of a disease and were dying. Upon a visit of my parents and their advice and help, I decided to cut down the sick trees and plant four Cherry laurel bushes, which are sturdy and beautiful evergreens that bloom with white fragrant flowers in May. Well, actually I planted two in the autumn of 2004 and two in the spring of 2005. As January through March 2005 was a very cold period with huge amount of snow, I was really worried that my two newly planted (and expensive!) laurels were not going to survive. They were lying down for almost a month under the heavy snow and in the spring they lost all the leaves. But to my astonishment, in May that year they grew all the leaves back and today they line my terrace, creating a wonderful serene spot. The front garden is facing southeast, meaning it receives sun mostly in the earlier part of the day. Considering that the wind here almost always comes from the west, it is a wonderful, shielded spot and visitors that pass the bushes in bloom often stop to look at them with awe and admiration.

While spending those few precious moments of sunshine there this morning, my mind was slowly put to ease.

Spring At Its Peak.

This is the last day of April, which has been the most beautiful spring month on record, at least here in Denmark. With more sun hours and less rain than normal for even the summer months, it has also been extraordinary warm. Honestly, if June and July will be anything like our April was, we can conclude that the summer was better than good.

Almost as if on cue, there is a weather change in store for us comes the weekend. The wind is shifting, bringing in humid air from the large Atlantic ocean in the west, which means we are back to the somewhat normal Scandinavian spring; rain, cold air, wind and clouds.
Well, it was good as long as it lasted. Hopefully May will not be a total washout.

I found this little quiz, titled "What part of spring are you?" on the lovely blogthings site and considering that we have reached the middle of the spring season by now, I decided to post it.
I have to say that the result is spot on, at least for me.

You Are Blooming Flowers

You are an optimistic person by nature. In even the darkest times, you are hopeful about the future. You feel truly blessed in life and can sometimes be overwhelmed with emotions. You have an artist's eye. You are always looking for beauty in the mundane. You have a good sense of aesthetics, especially when it comes to shapes and color.

What Part of Spring Are You?

All Good Things...

"All good things must come to an end...”.
Well, at least that is how the saying goes. And there is some truth to it. The past week has been wonderful, but too short and the end was bittersweet. But that is the definition of true happiness; those brief, fleeting moments in time, which are precious and seem to elude us defiantly.
I find consolation in the fact that one day in the future this happiness will return to me. Every end has a beginning and everything goes in circles; I prefer to be happy for a few fleeting seconds in what seems like eternity, than never have to have the privilege to know happiness at all.

The Irishman brings not just sunshine into my heart and soul, but he also brings true, real sunshine with him every time. The weather breaks all the records upon his visits.
And this time was no exception; the last few days were filled with blue skies and plenty of sun.

Nature has changed significantly and visibly in the last couple of weeks. I took a picture of my fast growing clematis this past Sunday and the difference a week has made is blatantly obvious. A small collage further signifies the alterations that the warm April brought to my garden.

We are now on the threshold to the summer months, with the long days, white nights and the unique kind of magic that is so symbolic of Scandinavia.

Cloud Front.

I waited for that sun, that was promised to us, the whole weekend.
But - it never came.
It was foggy and rainy the whole Saturday and Sunday. Until Sunday evening that is. Just when the weekend was ending, the clouds were retreating, creating a clearly visible front. Typical.
Today is sunshine and warm, but that doesn't help much as I am heading back to work.
But at least my Monday is sunny.

Hot Chocolate.

Hot chocolate is the "Drink of Gods". That is what the lovely BPG calls a version of it in one of her posts (and I absolute agree with her), where she shares a delicious recipe. I have completely forgotten about that wonderful beverage this winter season. And today is a day as if made for a cup of hot, creamy, wonderfully scented chocolate, to be enjoyed at home in front of the fireplace.

I woke up to a very windy and dark morning. Honestly, it was on of those mornings when I do have a dialogue in my head with myself; one part is persuading me to finally get out of bed, the other is saying it is inhuman to be dragged out of bed and I should just call in sick.;) Well the first part always wins eventually.;)

While driving to work, I was contemplating whether it will even get light today. The ocean, that I pass on my way, was raging. It was a magnificent sight; the waves were crushing against the shore violently, the color of the water was a mix of dark green and grey. The white foam made the ocean look wild and free, while the sky was very low and thick with clouds the colour of ashes. The wind is so strong it takes hold of everything and moves the air around and anything with it.
As this weather was truly frightening, I came to think about drinking something warm and comforting. I therefore picked up box of hot Chocolate during my usual Friday grocery shopping and made myself a cup as soon as I came to the lab.

Below is a very "overdue" quiz that I took around the holidays. I stumbled upon this quiz in December on a wonderful blog of the lovely Gal Friday. It is simply entitled "What Holiday drink are you?" and considering the outcome, I can still share it anyways.;)

You Are Hot Chocolate

Your holiday personality is generous. The holidays are your favorite time to practice the art of giving. You enjoy picking out presents, sharing treats, and making everyone's day a little brighter. And you don't even notice if you don't get anything in return.

What Holiday Drink Are You?

Cool Meteorologist And Cute Cat.

The clip below is from a recent weather forecast on the German channel ARD.
Suddenly, in the middle of the forecast, a cat owned by one of the employees wandered into the studio. The popular TV-meteorologist, Jörg Kachelmann, kept his cool and picked the cat up without hesitation. He completed the forecast with the cat in his arms, without any apparent problems. He even finished by adding jokingly, that he hopes the cat has a heavy winter coat to endure the coming cold nights. The cat seemed to have utterly enjoyed the attention of the host and (quiet indifferently) those almost 2 minutes of fame.

Hurricane Marilyn.

As hurricane Ike made landfall in Texas this weekend, causing extreme devastation and menace, I got reminded of my own experiences when it comes to these raging storms. I have been confronted by two hurricanes in my life, when living in the US. One of them was hurricane Fran, that hit the coast of North Carolina in 1996 and even caused significant damage further inland, where I lived at that time. I remember how frighten I was, wondering whether the roof of my second story appartment will suddenly take off or if the windows will shatter. I was scared, mostly as I knew what a total devastation a hurricane can cause. This because just a year prior, I was literaly in the eye of hurricane Marilyn. What started as a wonderful vacation on St Thomas, one of the three US Virgin island, ended with days of terror and fright exactly 13 years ago today. The hurricane was already formed on the day of our departure, September the 13th, but its heading was more westward and it was no threat at that point to the islands. However, this scenario quickly changed and before we knew it, we were stuck in a beautiful, first class resort experiencing mother nature at its worst. It was one of the longest nights in my life. I was honestly worried whether we will make it. But even worse was the aftermath. Not just seeing concrete buildings being ripped to pieces, 90% of houses missing roofs and large heavy ships being thrown around far inland like toys, but also our extraordinary reaction to the shock and the stress of the situation. I have heard that under shock, the body rejects the severity of the situation as a protection mechanism. We honestly considered continuing our holiday and kept driving aimlessly around the island on debris littered roads to find an undamaged hotel. But all we found was a devastation I never seen before or since. Yes, we even asked at the almost non-existing front desk whether they had any excursions we could attend. The hotel concierge looked at us confused and with disbelieve. Finally on the 4th day after the storm hit, we were airlifted by the US army and evacuated to Puerto Rico, where we spend 2 wonderful weeks. I never managed to visit St Thomas again.