A coherent existence

A close family friend told me years ago that she was moving back to the place of her birth after years of travelling because she'd found that the day-to-day business of life, once it settled down, felt day-to-day and business-like wherever you were in the world and that you might as well live it in the place you know best and be near to your friends and family.

When I heard this conclusion as a 17-year-old I was appalled. I hated the idea of settling in with what you knew best rather than continually taking on new adventures. Now, though, I think I know what she meant - although I don't totally disagree with my former self; life settles into a routine but I think that's a good thing. And a routine in one place may fit you more or less than that in another.

All this is a roundabout way of saying that a kind of existence is opening up for me here. I've got a lovely flat, I cycle everywhere I go (having lost my month travel pass the same afternoon I bought it), I have wine, I make food, I play my piano, I look at books about Macroeconomics. It's not wildly exciting but then it'd probably be awful if it was.

Economics is proving, thus far, to be the right choice. I wanted to stretch my mathmuscles again and so far I've gone to bed most nights needing the equivalent of a hot bath and a Ralgex rub. It seems like a good science to be involved in because, unlike biochemistry, astrophysics or molecular biology, the current state of the art is that we don't really know very much about the world, and the models that we have to describe it aren't very good. The credit crunch is a great example of how poorly defined the science currently is. It's the economics equivalent of the lobotomy as a cure for schizophrenia: the success rate shows that there's lots more work to be done.

In my other great educational frontier, progress seems slow. I'm past the enthusiasm of base camp andclose enough now to the mountain to see how far it really is I've got to climb. Yes, my German has reached the great intermediate barrier (is that the term? I know there is one). The advancements I make seem pitiful in comparison to the task of understanding my flatmates or reading even the simplest brochure. There's just so many god damn words. Still, grinning and bearing it is currently the plan of action. I've been here before with French (although actually I was infinitely further on before I realised the size of the challenge that time). I came through it and now the idea that the language is unconquerable seems laughable. Cela me fait rire.

So - I raise of glass of Apfelwein to a coherent existence in this country or the next. I drink also to the sense of hopelessness that comes from being at the start of two massive educational projects.

Prost!