Attending a scientific conference is always a big opportunity—and a bit of an adventure—for a PhD student. It’s exciting, sure, but it also comes with a fair share of responsibility and effort. First, there’s the funding to sort out (which can be a real challenge for some of us—kudos to the organizers who usually provide at least some financial support).
Then comes the mountain of paperwork required by different institutions, often made harder by the fact that, at the beginning of your PhD journey, you have no idea what you're doing.
And let’s not forget the scientific presentation itself—where you’re supposed to confidently present results you’ve spent months (or years) doubting. Are they even “good enough” to share without being eternally embarrassed? Then, as you’re setting up your poster or slides, someone walks in—someone whose name you’ve cited repeatedly in your thesis—and you realise you're about to show them how you've (probably) misinterpreted their work. Suddenly, going home seems like a very reasonable option.
For more experienced colleagues, this might seem funny, even nostalgic. But for early-career researchers, it’s a roller-coaster. And all those kind, encouraging people around you probably don’t even realize how much it means to the nervous wreck standing in front of them. That said, I have to admit, my experience with the scientific community so far has been overwhelmingly positive: open, friendly, and genuinely supportive.
And if you really want to feel that welcoming atmosphere, smaller conferences are where it’s at. The big ones, with parallel sessions and hundreds of posters, are impressive—but they can also be pretty overwhelming. At smaller events, the “big names” suddenly become approachable human beings. And it turns out—it’s actually great to get to know them.
The recent FEBS Advanced Lecture Course 'Biological surfaces and interfaces: biointerfaces at lipids, proteins and polymers' in Sant Feliu de Guíxols, Spain, was exactly that kind of event. One lecture at a time, around 40 posters in total—calm, cosy, and incredibly friendly. What made it even more special was that it didn’t take place in a university building. The sea breeze drifted through the lecture hall, waves visible through the windows (honestly, is there a better place to discuss biological membranes and interfaces than by the sea which visualizes it perfectly?).
Outside the formal programme, there were plenty of opportunities to connect in an informal setting. You’d find yourself having breakfast next to senior researchers as well as fellow PhD students. In just a few minutes of casual conversation, you’d discover shared hobbies, learn that someone visited your home country, or find out they know your supervisor. Or you’d simply get to hear a fascinating story from someone living on the other side of the world. These off-topic chats really break the ice—and make it much easier for early-career researchers to feel more confident around scientific ‘celebrities’.
Even the lunch break came with shared sea swims, and the afternoon lectures sometimes featured slightly wet hair as part of the unofficial dress code. It was refreshing—literally and metaphorically. You weren’t talking to distant academic icons; you were talking to real, interesting, flesh-and-blood people. The free afternoon—some of us went kayaking, others explored historic Girona—was another great chance to connect as humans first, scientists second. And that’s the kind of connection that makes every future scientific discussion more open and meaningful.
Now, while the social atmosphere was easy-going, the scientific programme was anything but simple. It covered a broad range of biomembrane research: from simulations to experimental studies, from the most basic model systems to living cells. It took some mental flexibility to absorb all the approaches and perspectives, but it was incredibly inspiring. I left with a much richer mental map of the field.
Sometimes, I was just proud to follow the basic storyline. Other times, I was eager to dive into the details because a talk was so close to my own work. And anything I didn’t catch during the lectures? Easy to ask about during coffee breaks, because the smaller size of the event meant you could truly talk to anyone.
I discovered a few research projects I had completely missed in my literature review, and that turned out to be surprisingly relevant for me. And, since I’m approaching the end of my PhD, it was also a great opportunity for networking—figuring out potential collaborations or even postdoc directions.
In the end, I’m truly grateful I got to be part of it all. To hear all those diverse perspectives, to see how differently people approach the same challenges, and to feel like part of a scientific community—that’s something that will stay with me for a long time.
For more information about the FEBS Advanced Courses programme visit the FEBS website.
Top photo provided by the course organizers.