Mediterranean Mocha & Molybdenum

I’ve mastered the art of pinpointing ugly industrial pockets in otherwise gorgeous locales. First my crane-and-concrete suburb of Lake Geneva in the Swiss canton Vaud--featuring otherwise stunning views of mountains, lakes and vineyards--and this week’s business trip to the refinery skyline and container-laden Italian port town of Vado Ligure--on an otherwise elegant sweep of hillside villages and beachfront cafés overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. Hey, I’ll take what I can get. Monday’s miserable cold and rainy conditions gave way to clear and cold on Tuesday, which at least improved the views.

I’m providing more moral than technical support as my company’s service rep wrestles with his toughest installation in 10 years. I’m attempting my best salesperson-y effort to sometimes charm the various managers and supervisors to keep them at bay (charming is easier when you’re an exotic foreigner like me). An occasional cultural intermission breaks up our tedious 12-hour workdays in a dated laboratory staring at a computer monitor. In the lab’s back cubicle, the technicians (or “lab rats” as they’re affection- ately known) prepare authentic Italian mocha coffee and educate me on its finer points. There is no chocolate added to mocha, heavens no. Mocha is a particular type of coffee bean, renowned for its naturally chocolaty flavor notes, ground coarsely and prepared in a special stovetop chrome Italian percolator (there are plenty of hotplates in a lab); barely an ounce is served to each person and most importantly, it must be enjoyed while sitting. The second type of Italian coffee, espresso (maybe you’ve heard of it), is finely ground, prepared with hot water under 6-7 bars of pressure (never in the stovetop percolator) and can be enjoyed while standing. The third and final type of Italian coffee is Napolitano from the south, somehow very different but we didn’t go into the details. I’m served on average two mochas per day during breaks waiting for data, unless we want to walk three flights of stairs down to the espresso machine, which we also do on average twice per day.

The plant’s slightly dingy cafeteria is a funny cousin to our spotless Swiss kitchen in Lausanne. Yesterday’s fare was naturally Italian ravioli and osso bucco instead of French rabbit or pheasant. Everyone eats packages of thin grissini breadsticks, and two types each of olive oil and vinegar sit on every table to dress salads, cold cuts or vegetables; we have neither breadsticks nor olive oil in Lausanne. Can’t wait to see what tomorrow offers. Dinners at night between the service rep and me have been fish, fish and fish in various forms and wine, wine, wine, also in various forms.

Also in case you were wondering, molybdenum is element #42 on the Periodic Table and if we’re really lucky sometime today or tomorrow, we’ll find some in our customer’s samples like they’re requesting. Ciao for now!