A few nights ago, I had dinner with a dozen people I'd never met before. All were either at university, or completing post-graduate or post-doc work. We hailed from 10 different countries.

In addition to politics, sport and other religions, the conversation wandered to what each person was studying. The young-un's (and myself) could simply state which course we did, but the challenge came for those in research. Particularly, they had to explain their topic, why they chose it and how it was relevant and practical in the real world within a minute.

Additionally, the conversation (and explanation) was in English, the mother-tongue of only two people at dinner. The topics ranged from applying spin theory to neural association networks, to the solar treatment of waste water.

As a pharmacy student, I remember my frustration with a PhD student not being able to explain clearly the principles of Pharmacokinetics. This wasn't because they had savant-like intelligence (which I'm sure happens for some), but because English was not their first language. And seriously, some ideas require a very fine handle on a language, both to explain and to understand.

Unfortunately, I was the sole-monolinguist present at dinner. Whilst this didn't hinder the students' explanation, I was humbled. Clearly, one of my goals whilst en Suisse is to develop a functional level of French.

Long-haul travel is surely one of mankind's oddest examples of selfharm. Nonetheless, after several 8+ hour flights, almost as many hours in stopovers, I'm in Springtime Switzerland.

While "summering in Europe" is usually the stuff of decadence and holiday, I'm here for my Elective. I'm placed at a hospital in South-west Switzerland for eight weeks of Adolescent health.

Before that kicks off, however, the plan is to spend some time with Batman, who's been Medical-globetrotting for the last rotation, aswell as watching some Bicycle Racing in the Dolomites.

So, a few quick observations from the last week;

1. Sure, it's cool to have a soft-toy attached to your stethoscope, but if you only put it on for the exam, then maybe you're missing the point.

2. Exams. If you're in the final year of medicine, then a) you've done more than 100 exams in your life, b) they now closely mimic professional practice, and c) they're only looking to weed out the bad eggs. This means you shouldn't freak out at the word 'exam'.

3. If you can't speak the same language as the person serving you at a cafe, be prepared for the service to take just a touch longer. You'll be madder if the wrong food comes out, right?

4. Cycling Paradise as Europe is, I still can't understand why no-one wears a helmet.

5. Something I already knew, but was yet to see in action from a first person point of view, is the speed at which face-grazes heal vs. ankle-grazes.

6. When airlines lose your bag, they really don't care. Whilst it might turn up eventually, you're still stuck in the same clothes for two six days. Bad luck Batman.

Switzerland is a truly beautiful place in the Spring; wildflowers, waterfalls, azure lakes, snow-capped peaks and the ringing of cowbells. Next week, to the Giro!

About the time the last [Anaemic] post went up, I looked like this. I'd been in a crash at the local cycling club's criterium circuit and been knocked for six.

Keen cricketers and cyclists alike will appreciate that if a red, round ball goes for six, it's good. If, however, it's a red, hairy head getting smashed out of the park, well, that's usually a bad thing.

I took it - literally - on the chin. After unexpectedly slowing from 40kmh to zero in a matter of two meters, I sat dazed and confused on a cold black and white part of the road as cyclists variably whizzed past or stopped and asked are you all okay? I was in outer space. One bloke fractured his collar bone, I'm told.

The next person to ask 'are you okay?' didn't really expect an answer. He wore a green jumpsuit, and had a nice white van with sirens and flashing lights.

I don't remember much of the next part at all, aside from being schlepped up to the Coast Hospital in a C-spine collar and with a 16g cannula providing my sore head and neck (and, as I found out shoulder and leg) with morpheus sensations.

The DEM team poked and prodded me appropriately, fired good amounts of x-rays at my shoulder, ankle and brain and concluded that I was "within normal limits".

With the headaches presently being replaced by memory, thankfully, my noggin hasn't responded too badly to the abrupt 'Hard reset' it received. Touch wood.

This morning I'm sitting my Paediatrics exam, and from Tuesday I'll be reporting from my Elective placement in Sunny Europe. Stay tuned.

It's a week until my paediatrics exam. I've enjoyed the rotation tremendously; it's had the challenge of internal medicine, the wonder of babies and, above all, hope.

Hope is something that tends to be forgotten in hospitals; prognosis boils down to a chance number, a percentage, a fact. Of course that applies to kids too, but the odds seem so much better. A small difference now makes a huge difference down the track. Of course that statement goes both ways, but hey, I'm an optimist.

Paediatrics has been hard. In fact, it's been the most intellectually challenging and rewarding part of medicine I've done. Part of it, I know, is about gaining more experience, thinking systematically and broadly. The other part, I can't explain. The part that gets me out of bed in the morning and to the hospital full of beans (and biscuits). The part that finds me the energy to study late into the night. The part that gets me out cycling for hours at a go, not to avoid study, but to have a clear, sharp, focused mind when the books again fall open in front of me.

I know that, in the wide world of paeds, I have so much to learn. I want to learn it. I'm willing to take my time, soak up the experiences on offer, talk to kids, mums and dads, consultants and junior docs.

Paeds isn't about wolfing down a ginormous meal and digesting it, nor is it about finding a magic key to a hidden lock; it's a long, hard, intellectually and emotionally challenging road. I don't expect to wake up and be the best, nor will I get top of the class in this rotation, but I want to be good at this for a long, long time. I am ready and I am willing.

The last seven weeks has crystallised what I already know;

I want to be a paediatrician.