Spem in Allium*

Je suis Logicien, et je vais aller au Paris, afin d'assasiner la langue francaise.

Or something like that. I am giving a talk with the grand title "Towards Identity of Proofs, via Herbrand's Theorem". I haven't written any slides yet. Bum.

I have strong hopes of taking my friend and colleague Kai to Au Pied de Cochon tonight, as we will arrive in Paris after 10pm, and so won't be eating 'till 11ish. Plus, Kai is such a hardcore meat eater that he eats rare pork, and uses supermarket minced beef as steak tartare. He grew up in Dresden, and I think he was maybe part of some Cold War project to protect the population in case of biological warfare.


As to the punning title, last Monday was the Zibelemärit, or onion market. The people of the outerlying villages come to Bern and set up onion stalls, and then the population of Bern get up at 4 in the morning, and go out into the streets to drink beer and mulled wine, eat a traditional onion cake that's basically a quiche, and (in the case of children and youths) throw confetti at each other and hit each other with squeaky hammers.

I'm not joking.

We arrived at 6:15, and the streets of Bern were fuller than I had ever seen them. Of course, it was completely dark outside, so it could have been 10pm (except theat Bern's streets are empty at 10pm.) I bought some onoins and made french onion soup. Yum.

After Paris, I have Munich, and then Burton-on-Trent, then Southern California, then London, then home. I feel tired already.


*Hope in Garlic, Onions, etc

All the rage