leaving France

For the last year, at least, I've agonized about whether I should leave Grenoble or stay, whether I just find a new job in another country or scrounge up another few months here when my contract is over. I guess scientists are often in this sort of a dilemma. Research is ongoing and never truly stops. One can always justify hanging on and doing a few more experiments in the hope of landing the big scoop - or just finishing the project cleanly. Of course, this never happens. We're always equally far for the next big idea. That's what science is about. At the same time you come closer to your idea, your develop your idea further and move it farther out there.

The bottom line is, you move on when the opportunity opens up. Unless you have a permanent position and have handed in all your ambitions, you are a mercenary of science. I have an opportunity in London, and will take it very seriously. Others will sure come as soon as I look for them.

What this means it that while I'm trying to see the temptation in other countries, I'm looking at France with a much more critical eye than usually. Two things occurred today that brutally shoved into my face the truths that France is not my country and the IBS not my kind of institute.

First the country. In Le Monde I read that "the Commission specialized in automobile terminology - composed of high civil servants, automobile professionals and journalists" will be busy translating the names of the newest innovations in the car maker industry into French. While the Japanese, the Koreans and the Germans innovate, the French translate. This explains much about France if you think about it.

Next the institute. Venki Ramakrishnan gave a talk at the EMBL today, a facility five minutes away that part of the same Partnership for Structural Biology as the IBS. In the audience, there was one other IBS dude. Now I don't say that you have to love the ribosome, but then again, you don't have to love it in order to eagerly attend the seminar. It's like Eric Clapton is coming to town and you just continue playing your guitar because you can't be bothered right now. I'm missing the devotion, passion, dynamics, ideas that I formerly associated with science. What a lame place.

...

I've been asking myself what happiness is. I don't know. But I know that I normally don't acknowledge unhappiness, come hell or high water. It'd be like conceding defeat. That I don't do either. Let's just say the next stop will be better.