On intellectual autonomy, bogs and jungles, or How I escape the bell jar

Doing your PhD is a solitary journey, I was told. And the intonation implied that it was somehow a bad thing. Yes right, thought I. But I LOVE solitude. Please leave me alone and let me get on with the thing. Lock me in an office, better a bunker. Give me some books, better a […]

On dancing with the shawl, faux pas, and being chiselled through research training

El mantón, the flamenco shawl, refuses to do my bidding. It refuses to levitate in the air in front of me, in order to then fall softly on my chest – like it levitates in front of my teacher and then falls on hers, right under her collar bones and covering her entire wide-open arms. […]