Tag: Travels

Following the Scent of AI to Vienna

Written by: Katherine Sanders

Studying abroad in the spring gets cold quick. In the first weeks, every country we traveled to sat around 35F°. Walking around and admiring architecture was entertaining until the cold overwhelmed us. To escape into warmth while staying entertained, we retreat into Sephoras. At the Sephora in Prague, Baran wandered over to the perfumes while I swatched lip liners on my hand. Baran is picky when it comes to scent, so I went over with her and asked what makes a scent “good.” There’s different concentrations of elixirs… and some notes are better than others… but I still couldn’t grasp what makes a scent objectively great. 

Since my nose can’t pick up on the best scent for me, I let AI pick. Cosmotecha Vienna is a perfume shop located in Vienna. It’s run by EveryHuman, a company that creates personalized perfumes based on customers’ results to a personality quiz. With Baran’s love of perfume, my love of personality quizzes and our shared CS 3600: Introduction to AI class, this was the perfect activity for us to escape the Austrian cold.

Cosmotecha is a small, narrow space in the heart of the city. On the right, a sleek machine fills small viles with different liquids as the conveyor belt moves. Grey stools line the wall, seating customers as they complete the quiz and watch the machine. EveryHuman’s founder Frederik Duerinck says the machine is AI-enabled and learns how to create new scents with different ingredients. It understands what scents work well together, but takes liberties in creating new fragrances.

The personality quiz starts with multiple choice questions: words to describe your personal style, where you grew up (suburbs, city, countryside) and your hobbies. Then, there are questions similar to personality tests like MBTI. From not at all to very much, customers declare how much they relate with statements like, “is shy,” “easily distracted” and “is curious.” The quiz asked where we would rather be at that moment. The beach? The countryside? Baran and I chose the center of a bustling city. We didn’t want to be anywhere else.

Baran and I took our time answering each question. We added insight to make sure we both had a mix of our own personal vision and the perceptions from those around us. I usually think of myself as a dark, deep purple, but I’m more lavender than I thought. Baran is much friendlier than she thinks. The quiz ends by asking what scents we would enjoy in our fragrances. I chose to have more oud and musk and less citrus and fruit, but the machine had a different formula in mind.

Soon, three perfumes were created, boxed and handed to me. Spraying them on strips of paper, I was schocked. Each one was exactly how I wanted to smell. They weren’t just “fine” or “good,” they were right.

“636” is complex and grounding, reminding me of the luck I have; “audrey” is elegant and admirable; and “vitality” is youthful without smelling immature. While there was some intuitive reasoning behind the names for my scents, the main reason for their names was the reminders I needed. 

I cycle through each perfume now, reminded not just of their meanings but of the experience of exploring a friend’s passion.

Katherine in Metz

Written by Katherine Sanders

Emily in Paris is a show you hate-watch. Flashy, funny and cliché. I watched the show with my mom every time a new season came out. We snarked at her crazy outfits and carelessness–yet I was Emily for Halloween in 2022. Emily finds herself in stereotypical “American in France” situations a lot. I dismissed these scenes, believing they were a lazy way to point out the differences between countries. For years, I laughed at Emily Cooper. I gawked at her poor decisions and her inability to conform to French culture. But now, I’m in France, and I’m getting deja vu. 

After our arrival at the dorms, my friend knew his room was on the second floor. He went up one flight of stairs, because the ground floor should be “1” and the next should be “2,” only to arrive at a door that was not his. In France, the first floor is floor zero. From there, it then goes to the first floor, second floor, etc. Emily made this same exact mistake in the pilot. She counted five flights of stairs before arriving at floor six, where her apartment should be, and trying to force open the door to Gabriel’s place. When I heard his story, I giggled at the thought of Emily. 

Maddie, Baran and I went to Carrefour the next day to get some essentials for our four month stay. The Costco-size store organized in a foreign way was overwhelming. We wandered through the aisles, squinting at French brands. After finally finding the skincare section, I didn’t want to spend any more time searching. I saw what looked like face wash, convinced myself it was face wash, grabbed it and moved on. That night, I opened up my “face wash” and it dripped into my hand like water. Maybe it was just the formula. I rubbed it in my hands but no bubbles were formed. I put it on my face and my skin grew dry and tight. The face wash I got was actually toner, a good skincare item, but definitely not the same. Emily bought dog shampoo instead of human shampoo in a later season of Emily in Paris. There was a dog on the bottle, too. My mistake was the same amount of silly. “Tonique” definitely means “toner.” I thought about Emily on the way back to Carrefour.

In my Introduction to AI class, we looked at a binary tree together and discussed the different ways to search for an item. The nodes on the tree were labeled A, B, C, D… all the way to O. As we discussed the path of Depth First Search, my professor asked what the sixth node explored would be. “J,” I thought. She declared, “G.” Why was it G when it was obviously J? Did I learn these algorithms completely wrong last semester? When I stared at the tree and thought harder, I remembered back to French 2. “J” is pronounced like an American “G” in France.

My Computer Organization class experienced a similar confusion. As we discussed state machines, we created a table of State 1, State 2 and State “Prime.” They were written S1, S2 and S^ respectively.  Writing the state table out, I grew more and more confused as S^ took on the values I thought S1 was supposed to have. I looked around the room in hopes of finding other confused faces, but it seemed I was the only one lost. A student in my class soon raised their hand and asked what was going on with S1. My professor asked them to point to what they referred to, and they asked exactly what I wondered. The number “1” in French is written so similarly to the carrot (^) that they started to blend together. 

That weekend, my friends and I arrived at Gare de Metz bright and early for our train. We picked up breakfast at the café and we all tried to order in French. When it was my turn to order, I sounded more American than before. I ordered “un americano et un croissant.” The cashier first stared at me in horror, then smiled. She promptly corrected me: “UN americano et UN croissant.” Emily also tries ordering a pasty in an American accent, heavily pronouncing the “n” in “un,” making it sound closer to “une.” The baker corrects her: “UN pain au chocolat.”

With un americano and un croissant, I walked away from the café thinking about Emily Cooper. She used to seem so ridiculous–silly outfits, bad pronunciation and an inability to change. But I just got clogs in Amsterdam and I can’t pronounce “un croissant,” so maybe Emily isn’t that weird.

A Day Pass for a Prague Pump

Written by Katherine Sanders

Maddie woke up on the night train with a nail missing. Ever since she learned how to do her nails in the summer, Maddie always has her nails long and painted. When she turned to me with her finger up, I knew it was going to drive her crazy. Prague, one of the cheapest cities in Europe, also has the cheapest manicures. Baran was enthusiastic about getting her nails done, too. 

Whenever I have nail polish on, I find a way to rip it off. Acrylics might be different since they can’t tear off easily, but I’d probably find a way. Although quite cheap, it wasn’t in my best interest to get my nails done. My other option was to stay at our hotel and get some work done. Homework? Homework… no. 

I made a list of gyms in Europe during winter break because I thought that one day I might need a day pass on a weekend trip. Today was the day. I searched up the gym, Form Factory, and found a location two minutes from our hotel. I went to street view on Google Maps and didn’t see a sign or a door, so I went to investigate when Baran, Maddie and I split up. I walked around a small strip mall for a couple minutes. Before giving up, I passed a girl my age also looking around, confused. I backed up and watched as she entered through a side door. I followed her. As she held the door open for me, she said something to me in Czech, to which I responded, “ahaha, yeah!”

I walked up two flights of stairs before reaching the front desk. She took my passport, email and phone number. She said, “Do you need a drink before your workout?” 

“Do I need to pay?” 

My day pass was free. I ran back to the hotel and changed into–don’t think I’m disgusting–one of my sleeping outfits. It was my only option. I only brought one pair of shoes for this trip: my Dr. Marten Mary Jane’s. My gym fit was definitely questionable. I got weird looks, but gains are gains. 

The weight lifting area was a small spiral staircase down from the main lobby. One side was for dumbbells, cables and machines. It had the usual: chest and shoulder press machines, a couple cables, leg extensions and a hamstring curl. The other side had benches, large leg presses, a smith machine and hip thrust. 

Back in the states, I had a strict routine I followed consistently. I split up my body into four sections: back and biceps; glutes, adductors and quads; chest, shoulders and triceps; glutes, hamstrings, abductors and calves. I lifted heavy weights and pushed until failure frequently which is hard to recreate without a gym. For glutes and quads, I can fill up my backpack with the heaviest items I have and perform step ups with a chair. For my chest, I can do deficit push ups. For biceps and shoulders, I can do movements with resistance bands. I took this time in Prague to do the exercises I never get to do. 

The machines in Europe are identical to the ones in the states. The only difference is the weights are exclusively in kilograms. In my head, I multiplied the numbers by two to get a rough estimate of how much I was lifting. The conversion from pounds to kilograms is actually 1lb to 2.205kg, so in the end I lifted much more than I thought. 

I stayed at Form Factory for about an hour. The five minute walk back to the hotel left me with time to clean up and relax. Maddie and Baran returned, showing off their new nails. The price was low for how well they came out. I hope they get their nails done again soon.