From Heather to Heights: Ireland to the Alps

Moss and Music: Ireland’s Wild Warmth

I arrived in Ireland beneath a sky brushed with silver clouds, the light shifting quietly over soft hills that have held their secrets for centuries. In Kilnary, I wandered along winding trails bordered by ancient stone walls, moss heavy and thick with time. The air was crisp with peat and salt, carrying the calm steadiness of the land itself. Sheep grazed lazily like scattered thoughts, and the earth beneath my feet felt both solid and alive.

In Galway, music spilled from doorways and street corners — raw fiddles, wailing pipes, laughter that tangled in the evening air. Pubs glowed like hearths against the chill, and I found myself lingering just to listen, to let the melodies wrap around me like a warm shawl. Over thick slices of brown bread and sharp, tangy cheese, I felt the city’s heart beat steady and wild all at once.

Stones and Salt Air: The Aran Islands & Cliffs of Moher

The Aran Islands offered a different kind of magic. On Inis Mór, I pedaled past weathered forts and endless stone fences, the Atlantic’s breath fierce and unrelenting on my face. The island’s isolation wasn’t loneliness, it was a space to breathe deeper, to remember the weight of the world as it shifted around me. The sea stretched infinite in every direction, a wild, living thing I could neither tame nor turn from.

At the Cliffs of Moher, I stood on the edge where earth falls into sky and sea, wind tugging at my jacket like an old friend trying to pull me back. The cliffs dropped sheer and endless, sharp and raw against the roar of waves below. Above, seabirds traced invisible currents, their wings catching the wild air with effortless grace. The moment was loud, cold, and beautiful — fierce in its quiet way.

Sunstruck Cities: Zurich in a Heatwave

Switzerland greeted me with a different light — cool, clear, and steady — but caught in an unusual heatwave. The early July sun poured down in relentless waves, a strange warmth for Zurich that made the city shimmer in a haze. The streets moved more slowly, softened by the heat, as if even the stone and glass had to pause and catch their breath. I hadn’t expected it, but it made the cool river all the more inviting.

July is typically the warmest month in the Northern Hemisphere, but this heat was exceptional. Western Europe was under the grip of a high-pressure system, trapping dry air from northern Africa and pushing temperatures far above seasonal norms. The result: soaring heat, drought in some countries, surging pollution, wildfire risk, and a public health toll. MeteoSwiss issued amber alerts across much of the country. The heatwave — part of a broader climate crisis — caused 2,300 deaths across 12 cities, with 1,500 directly attributed to the heat within Europe. The intensity reached from North America to North Africa, the Middle East, and Central Asia — a global reminder of a changing climate, etched into daily life.

Stone and Water: Zurich’s Timeless Charm

Zurich’s clean streets and trams moved with quiet confidence, a city perfectly at ease with itself. In Old Town, I traced painted facades along cobbled lanes, watching sunlight scatter on the Limmat River. I couldn’t resist its pull — slipping into the cold current for a swim, the water wrapping around me like a crisp reminder of summer’s fleeting sweetness. Above, the Zytglogge clock tower stood in silent vigil, marking time with elegant precision — hours that felt both urgent and eternal.

Mirror Lakes and Mountain Castles: Lucerne & Thun

Day trips carried me deeper into this alpine world. Lucerne welcomed me with its wooden bridge and a lake that mirrored the shifting sky — blues and grays and golden clouds that stilled the breath. In Thun, I wandered narrow alleys and climbed castle walls, stone steeped in centuries of stories. The lakes here weren’t just beautiful — they felt precise and deliberate, framed by mountains that leaned in close enough to whisper.

Granite and Gold: Into the Alps

And then the mountains.
A moment that I have longed for, I stepped onto trails that rose past treeline into a world carved from granite and ice. Some days, the sun lit the peaks like molten gold; on others, mist rolled in without warning, soft and eerie, a quiet reminder of the wild’s unpredictability. My first taste of the Swiss Alps — excitement and a longing to return.

Power and Place: Life at ETH Zurich

Now, I find myself at ETH Zurich, in the Power Systems Lab — a place where questions about energy, resilience, and the future take shape. From the lab’s windows, the city unfolds toward the peaks, a living reminder that even the most technical work is rooted deeply in place — in weather, in landscape, in human lives.

Here, I’ve been welcomed into one of the most vibrant and generous work environments I’ve ever known. Each day brings something new — thoughtful conversations over coffee, laughter at lunch, the shared rhythm of ideas and experiments. I attended my first European dissertation defense (congrats, Dr. Milos Katanic!). These defenses are full-day celebrations, my favorite part being the whimsical, custom hat your labmates make to reflect your PhD journey. Milos, from Serbia, was joined by his warm and generous family, who shared traditional Serbian food and homemade rakija — a memorable and fiery experience.

I’ve also joined the [Speed2Zero][https://speed2zero.ethz.ch/en/] project as part of the Climate Scenarios, Compound Events, and Impacts on Climate-Resilient Energy Systems research team. It’s meaningful work, exploring the edges of our energy future while rooted in collaboration, rigor, and hope. More on this in the next blog! Other exciting news, is that this Fall I will be heading to Malta to present my work about AI and weather-induced power outages.

In Between the Lines: What I’m Learning

I came to study power, but I’m learning about balance: between motion and stillness, certainty and mystery, the old and the new. Between the wildness of Ireland’s hills and the precise calm of Swiss peaks, between the music that fills Galway’s streets and the quiet hum of machines shaping our future.

Posting this from a train, heading back into the Alps for another weekend of running and exploration. This first month has felt like something of a whirlwind, but with the chaos of migration meetings and settling into a new place slowly easing, I’ve begun to feel genuinely excited each day. Whether it’s a long day at ETH with labmates I’ve already grown close to, evening runs through the forests of Zürich, or weekend trips to mountain villages (which will always bring me a deep sense of joy), I feel incredibly fortunate to be here.

And through it all, the world keeps turning, patient, unyielding, and endlessly beautiful.

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