Wednesday, December 22, 2010

The ghost of Christmas Future

Sitting at my desk minding my own business my cell phone just rang.  I looked at it to see a random local number on the caller ID.  Normally I would ignore it, but since the number was local I picked up thinking it might be someone I don't know actually trying to get in touch with me.  Imagine my surprise when a preteen voice exclaimed out to me after I said hello, "hi Dad?"  In the nanosecond that followed I saw what could one day be my future and even pondered a number of impolite, snarky, and amusing responses.  Instead I simply responded, "sorry you have the wrong number." 

Monday, December 20, 2010

What is responsibility?

I was listening to a podcast about finding one's purpose in life and I also read a blog post about tipping that led me to this post.  The podcast proposed that the question in my title and wondered about whether responsibility was defined as fulfilling societal obligations or by fulfilling one's desire.  By desire I'm not referring to buying a pair of shoes that you really want, but seeking out your bigger purpose.  The blog post was centered around the common practice of tipping those that regularly aid us in our daily lives (doormen, hair stylists, postal delivery people, garbage workers, etc.).  The poster's argument was framed around doormen in NYC who provide a service and are not paid particularly well for often going beyond the call of duty and helping out residents.  The poster argued that in appreciation for their services doormen should be tipped handsomely at year's end and one commenter argued that the doormen should instead get "a real job".  This brings me back to my original question what constitutes responsibility and similarly what defines a "real job".  

Are we as individuals responsible to the conventions of society?  Am I an irresponsible member of society if I'm 45, renting, single and working as a barista?  I would likely be considered to not have a "real job".  However, what if I was 45, renting, single, a recovering addict, and working as a barista?  In that case I think I would be viewed as someone who was doing a good job to turn their life around and was on the track towards positive change.  Perhaps the question is how long had I been a barista.  Maybe a responsible member of society is one who is paying taxes and law abiding.  However, if they do that, but are not being true to themselves while living a life as a corporate drone then are they sacrificing personal responsibility for societal responsibility?  Does earning a college degree equate to responsibility?  As my coworker asked me this past week, how many engineers can a country really have before it no longer matters?  The Bureau of Labor Statistics says that in 2006 there were 1.6 million EMPLOYED engineers in the US.  So I would estimate the number would be near 2.5 million if you factor in unemployed, engineers that are not working as engineers, and retired engineers.  Maybe the idea of responsibility comes down to my personal definition regardless of what the societal definitions are around me.  A very inspirational family in my life with 6 members has at any given point only 2 or 3 people who are in full time employment.  I consider them to be the benchmark of responsibility and 'real job holders'.  They are all tax paying and law abiding, but they are also holding true to themselves.  There is an adage in engineering that you can only get 2 out of 3 options: good, fast, or cheap.  In my life right now I think there are also 2 out of 3: societally responsible (law abiding), self responsible, and self indulgent.  If I plan to be societally responsible and self responsible then I need to find another career path, which means I cannot indulge in the things that I always want.  If I want to be self indulgent and self responsible then I possibly will not be a good citizen.  If I'm going to be a good citizen and indulge myself then I will not be true to who I am and that is where I am right now.  

Thursday, December 16, 2010

Random observations

I had a few thoughts, but none of them will stand on their own in a post so they are just a few random observations.

-I was surprised the amount of Indian influence in South America this time.  I saw Mahindra trucks, a Bajaj shop, and a Bata store (though technically Bata isn't an Indian company, but I associate them with India).  I even saw enclosed three wheel scooters that were nicer versions of the rickshaws that we use. 

-It is interesting to see how small South American people are.  Or perhaps it's us Americans who are raised on a diet of 3 glasses of milk a day that are larger.  I've had the same observation in India, but for some reason it surprised me somewhat in South America.

-The features of Inca descendants are very striking and noticeable.  It is surprisingly easy to tell who comes from a family that was mixed with Spanish blood at some point and who is strongly descended through the Incas. 

-Who knew that there were so many varieties of corn?  As a typical American I'm used to seeing white, yellow, and the few assorted colors during Thanksgiving.  However, for the most part all the kernels are the same size.  In South America the kernels are enormous.  I might have even blogged about this during my previous trip to Peru, but it merits a second mention.

Trip to site

Yesterday I made my first trip to the site of an as yet to be built project.  The project is about 3 years from being a recognizable mine and about 5 years from operation. 

The drive up started at 7am when we went to the project office in town.  If there is one thing that Peruvians love to do it is fill out forms.  I have filled in so many forms with my name and passport number you wouldn't believe it.  So we checked in to announce our intention to go to the site.  Mines are notoriously paranoid about photos and cameras so we had to declare that we had two cameras with us.  Ultimately no one actually checked the camera with the paperwork so we could have gotten away with not saying anything.  However, as my coworker said this is the difference between security and the illusion of security.  Anyways about half way through the drive we departed from the main (paved road) and embarked on the most bone jarring drive I have ever experienced.  I did a drive similar to this earlier this fall, but it was only a 5-6 miles and it was flat.  This was uphill, single lane, and I felt like I was riding a paint shaker.  Yesterday evening my legs ached from having to brace myself so rigidly.  The purpose the seatbelt served during this ride was to make sure I stayed in my seat during each bounce.  Everyone has heard the stories of the precarious drives in South America as they fly around hairpin turns and this would have been like that, but it was physically impossible to do more than about 10mph.  Upon arrival at the site there was more checking in and paperwork.  Then we were finally on the property.

These mine properties are enormous.  To provide some scale the largest ski resort in North America (Whistler Blackcomb) is 32 square kilometers, the city of Oakland is 202 square kilometers (land and water), and this mine's neighbor is 251 square kilometers (it is also the second largest gold mine in the world).  So this conveys how enormous an area we are looking at.  One of my proposed lines will be 2km if it goes the short way and 6 if it goes the long way.  So we spent the day driving around the property and comparing topographical maps to what we could see.  Topos are interesting, because on paper seeing two lines that are close together with 10m increments is one thing, but when you see it in reality you realize that's a cliff. 

I thought the altitude would be hard for me, but other then making it harder to walk from point A to point B it wasn't that bad.  It was incredible to think that we were about 300m shy of the elevation at the peak of Mt Shasta.  Based on this description it might seem as though I was in the Andean peaks, but it didn't look all that different from the hills in the Bay Area. 

Eventually we finished up and began the bone jarring journey home.  I will post a few photos once I get back. 

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Infectious laughter

I'm back on the road for a few days visiting a mine site.  In preparation for that I had my physical this morning.  I don't think I have ever received a physical in a foreign language.  It was somewhat difficult, because I know the basic spanish words and I also know engineering words, but not medical terms.  I made it through without any issue.  The funniest part was when I had my first EKG.  I have never had an EKG so I didn't know what to expect.  The two tiny Peruvian women explained that I had to remove any metal from my person or clothing.  Then I had to take my shirt off.  Bear in mind that it's pretty cold (50ish in the morning), the building wasn't heated, and they had doors wide open.  Then they wanted me to lay down on this bed and one lady started smearing the gel on my chest.  Then she took little suction balloons squeezed the air out of them and stuck them to my chest.  Perhaps they don't get very hairy people here, because she was having trouble getting them to stick.  About this time I couldn't take it anymore.  Between the cold temps, the cold gel, the suction things, and them smearing gel where i feel ticklish I just started giggling.  It was very funny.  I held it as long as I could and then I just started laughing.  They laughed also, but I couldn't explain to them why I was laughing.

Saturday, December 4, 2010

The evolution of education

Most of my posts are usually rants about something that annoys me.  However, today I'm just blown over inspired by something that I thought I would write about it.  

During my parents generation a basic education could be expected by children at almost any societal level.  However, beyond the basics people started to be filtered out based on income level or societal status.  To me this peaked during with college and regardless of how interested you were if you didn't have the money your accessibility to the information was drastically cut.  The same more or less exists today with people being boxed out of pursuing a college degree by cost or maybe their own academic limitations.  However, there are two new tools that I think are truly changing the face of education.  The first is the Khan Academy.  Started by Salman Khan (not that one), who has had the best quality higher learning possible, he seeks to provide quality education on any topic for free in the form of YouTube videos.  These tutorials extend through just about any topic from basic addition to calculus to chemistry and even history.  There are also lessons for the math topics so that one can test their understanding.    Naturally this isn't meant to replace traditional schooling, but it serves as an amazing supplement, refresher, or substitute (for those that are outside of the school system).  The second is iTunes U.  iTunes U is literally a library of lectures and seminars on anything from the foremost experts and thinkers on the topic.  Do you want to learn about the history of a place you are going to visit?  It's there.  Did you read about a seminar on energy that Stanford was having?  It's there.  Do you want to learn about African American history from top professors around the country?  They are there.  I know I sound like an advertisement, but this is something amazing in my mind.  My iPod has long since fallen into disuse, but this is certainly reason to resurrect it.  As I prepare for a business trip where I will be spending a lot of time traveling I am definitely searching to build my playlist of lectures and podcasts.  

To tie this back to my original point the degreed form of higher education is still not perfectly accessible to everyone.  However, the material that is taught in those institutions is rapidly being made more and more accessible.  

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

The dilution of the word "friend"

Conventionally a friend is someone who you hang out with, do things with, help out if they need it, and enjoy spending time with.  Obviously the degree to which we are friends with different people varies on a number of things, but I think the first sentence is true for all of my friends.  The advent of Facebook or social networking websites in general has, in my opinion, significantly diluted the word friend to include just about any random person that you have any interaction with.  Previously if I met someone at a party or somewhere and we discussed meeting up the act of simply connecting was a filter to determine who really wanted to hang out.  If someone said that they wanted to hang out simply as a courtesy they would likely not make a strong effort to get in touch, which is fine by me.  Now with the prevalence of social networking everyone immediately connects on Facebook, most often, and sometimes will do so during the initial meeting.  Jimmy Kimmel had an interesting monologue about people who have several hundred to a thousand plus friends on Facebook.  He pointed out that your true friends are those that will come out if you post, "moving today can anyone come and help?"  My true friends are probably no more than about 50 people and can be determined by checking who I call, text, and email (in that order) most frequently.  There are probably also a couple of dozen people that I don't have regular communication with that still fall into the true friend category. 

Friday, October 29, 2010

What is higher education?

Living in California we know an enormous number of extremely smart people.  I feel like there is a greater concentration of smart people here than in other parts of the country.  There are 3-4 world class education institutions within a 40 min drive of our apartment, there are dozens headquarters of companies on the cutting edge of their industries in the area, and there are several major research laboratories developing the next generation of technology so it is no surprise that we meet so many brilliant individuals in the Bay Area.  But I'm not trying to brag about the people I meet, but rather contrast my disinterest in education with their interest in education.  I feel like my experience in a technical college left me with little or no interest in organized education.  We have several friends that take classes for personal growth and many that take classes to elevate their careers.  I myself have taken classes to work towards a career change, but those seemed more like vocational training classes.  The few classes that I have taken for personal or career development after college I have struggled to maintain any interest in.  The HyWy made a good point though that she feels I learn best independently by absorbing what I stumble upon on the Internet.  I highly doubt that I will ever have the interest to pursue further organized education programs, but my thirst to learn more about certain topics will likely never be quenched.  As the HyWy has pointed out the trick is to find the way that works best for me and indulge myself that way. 

Sunday, October 3, 2010

What makes art? The tools or the artist?

As a photographer one of my biggest pet peeves is when people tell me that they want a nicer camera so they can take 'better' pictures.  I believe that if someone is good at art regardless of the tools that are used their talent will show.  I'm not speaking to anyone's artistic abilities, because I'm also a firm believer that with a few simple tips anyone can take amazing frame-worthy photos.  When I first started taking photos that I thought were good they were with a standard point and shoot camera, but eventually I moved to a better camera.  I switched to a better camera not because it would make my photos better, but it would allow me more control over my own photos.  Once someone learns the way to control the parameters of a camera they can make their own photos better with a better camera.  I think learning the basic techniques and developing your eye with a simple camera is the best way to start.  The artist is the one who makes the art good. 

True Blood

A few weeks ago I decided to watch the first season of True Blood which I borrowed from a coworker.  I doubt anyone on this blog will watch the show, but if they do stop reading this post as it has some episode spoilers.  For those that don't know the series is about the coexistence of vampires and humans in a small parish of Louisiana.  The humans have found that the consumption of vampire blood has hallucinogenic and euphoric effects, which results in it being an illegal drug. 

One of the characters on the show is a wavy granola Berkeley type hippie.  She goes on about the interconnectedness of life and Gaia.  This already proved annoying to me, but what killed me about her was when she started taking vampire blood as a mind opening and expanding substance.  The way she acquired her drug was by capturing a vampire who lives a rather isolated life.  He keeps to himself and doesn't interact with others.  The girl keeps the vampire tied up in a basement and periodically extracts blood for sale and consumption.  She justifies her enslavement by saying that he is not alive and therefore can't be a slave.  This level of hypocrisy was the most disturbing thing about the show.  I know shows and movies are written such that they play with our emotions, but I've never been made to feel so furious at a show.  I think what angered me more is that I'm sure people in reality would believe this.  It bothers me that a distinction is made in order to justify slavery and that someone would be so blind as to not realize that such a fine line separates them from their slave.  By stealing another's blood the girl is in essence a vampire herself. 

Journeys (Part IV): What is reality?

This is the last post in the series started from my reading part of Invisible Cities by Italo Calvino. 

I'm paraphrasing what Calvino wrote, we all must reserve space in our hearts for that which we are and that which we dream to be.  Both are assumptions.  One is necessary, but not yet reality and the other is dreamed, but exists only while the moment exists. 

This reminds me of a thought that I really like from a movie called Waking Life, which questions whether we are sleeping walking through reality or wake walking through a dream.  In both thoughts the question is raised about how we perceive reality.  Reality is necessary, but what is our awareness in that reality.  Conversely in a dream the only 'reality' that exists is in that moment.  So what is this moment?

Sunday, September 19, 2010

Journeys (Part III): Past vs. Present

In keeping with the theme of the previous two posts I'm writing this based on a passage from Invisible Cities by Italo Calvino.

Paraphrasing what Calvino wrote he states that if a person is shown two photos: one of a city in the past and the second of the city in the present the viewer must prefer the past to the present to avoid offending the owner. However, a fine line is being walked, because the viewer must balance their preference in admitting the beauty and prosperity of progression shown in the present photo while also lamenting the loss of innocence shown in the past photo. To me this seems that we are increasingly seeking growth in the name of progress, expansion, and development all things that equate to success. Once in the future with the realization of these goals we lament the past, the loss of innocence, and simpler times.

As children many would look to the future, imitate adults, 'play house', and we often couldn't wait for the next phase of our lives. As kindergartners or preschoolers we are praised for being 'big kids' and regaled with the promise of elementary school. Following elementary school the process takes on a life of it's own as we look to the upper grades and eventually to the prospect of middle school or junior high. Once in junior high seeing our siblings or friend's siblings we watch in awe the 'cool' of the high schoolers. In high school we are taught to dream big and plan for the future, because college is around the corner. College, often thought to be the 'best times of our lives', might be on of the few times where if we are lucky we took the time to really enjoy the experience mostly because many do not want to 'join the real world'. Once we leave college after undergraduate studies or post graduate we likely get married and begin families of our own. At some point in the later phases of all of this (during college or after) everyone begins to reminisce and often lament about their childhood and simpler times. "It was so much easier back then. I didn't have so many responsibilities." Some will now learn to embrace life and really enjoy every moment and others will spend the remainder of their lives trying to regain or capture what made our lost childhoods so wonderful. In short as children we look longingly toward adulthood and as adults we wistfully remember our childhood.

Saturday, September 18, 2010

Journeys (Part II)

This post doesn't have much to do with it's title, but it is continuing with the theme from the previous post about things that I resonated with from a book I read. 

In each new place does one find again a past of theirs that they did not know they had?  The foreignness of what you no longer are or no longer possess lies in wait for you in foreign unpossessed places.   I think this is the essence of travels.  Through our travels we discover parts of ourselves that we didn't know existed or more importantly we rediscover parts of ourselves that we have lost.  Nearly 10 years ago I was an engineering student that traveled to visit my parents in Singapore.  On that trip we took a family vacation to Cambodia and a small nearly imperceptible moment on that trip has forever changed my life.  As we wandered the ruins of Angkor Wat I took a photo.  At the time I didn't consider myself an artist and never had.  I didn't think I could match the artistic talents of my aunt who creates beautiful paintings and 3-D art pieces, my cousin who also paints beautifully, or my mom who has made amazing stained glass lamps and pieces.  After I returned home and developed my photos I found something amazing my photo was beautiful.  The lighting was right, the angle was right, and the colors were perfect.  Suddenly I found I could artistically express myself and I embarked on a journey in discovering photography.  The amazing part about that photo was it was taken with the simplest point and shoot camera.  I found a past of mine that I did not know I had in Cambodia. 

Journeys

The next several posts are all somewhat related, but at the same time unrelated.  What does that mean?  I started reading a book, Invisible Cities by Italo Calvino, which was about the fictitious conversation between Kublai Khan and Marco Polo as the latter describes the cities he encounters on his explorations to the former.  There were some interesting thoughts which I gleaned from the book and I'm intermingling into the aforementioned posts. 

Do we move forward with our heads turned back?  Do our journeys only take place in the past?  To me this is asking whether while we move forward are we fixed on our past.  Do we live in our past despite embarking on a bright future?  Does our past constrain us?  Sometimes I think that our journeys forward are only meant to serve as means to right our past or forgive our past transgressions.  For better or for worse I think our past has made us who we are and though our actions in the past may not have been admirable we cannot let them dictate our future.  Naturally this is easier said than done. 

This afternoon we watched a powerful, albeit at times hokey, movie called My Name is Khan.  This movie is a Bollywood movie that was filmed in San Francisco, which was the driving factor behind my wanting to see the movie.  Anyways without giving away too much of the movie it ever so slightly touches on the idea of forgiveness following an extremely grievous act.  Of course it is far easier for me to preach about forgiveness from the comfort of my life where all is well, but it is a heavy burden to bear if you hold onto the pain of that act.  I'm not saying to not hurt or grieve, but forgiveness is the key to continuing on our journey.  The roots of hatred, anger, and animosity are in our past or actions that have hurt us and the only way to live with our heads turned forward is through forgiveness. 

Thursday, September 16, 2010

A little boy's dream (Part 2)

In June while on assignment in Vancouver I blogged a post about how awesome it was to watch a construction site in operation. Over Labor Day the HyWy and I were in San Diego for fun and there were two things that I wanted to see: the San Diego Zoo and the USS Midway. The zoo brought out the HyWy's inner child and it was great watching her get excited about the animals. The next day it was my turn and I was so excited to be on the aircraft carrier. Two years ago I toured the USS Hornet in Alameda, which was impressive but nothing like this. The Hornet was a WWII era Essex Class aircraft carrier and the Midway is a post WWII, Vietnam/Gulf War era Midway Class aircraft carrier. As far as I can tell the Midway is the largest publicly accessible aircraft carrier, which was a big part of why I wanted to tour it. I was just blown away by how enormous these ships are. The cliche is that they are a city at sea and I can see that firsthand. It was as if I was a 10 year old all over again itching to run all over the ship looking in each corner. In the moment I was very aware that I felt like a kid again, but then I thought perhaps my excitement is because I'm a mechanical engineer. Naturally this I really understood how the majority of the ship worked, which was amazing to me. I was able to explain the propulsion system to the HyWy, I understood the emergency wiring, and the takeoff procedure for the planes.

The aircraft carrier is one of the few places that I know (maybe the only one) where engineers are cool. The fighter pilots are basically engineers as are the officers in charge of getting them off the carrier and back safely. Picture this a 5 year old kid is asked in his kindergarten what his dad does. He responds he goes to his office and sits around doing nothing all day. This actually happened and that kid acknowledges years later that while his dad did important things it was not easily distilled to a kindergartner's understanding and hence 'boring'. So now you can imagine my vindication as a now 'boring' engineer when I realized somewhere there is a kindergartner whose dad is an engineer, but the kid tells his teacher that his dad helps planes takeoff a carrier in less than 3 seconds. That is so cool.

Friday, September 3, 2010

Have you ever had any problems with the police or immigration?

This was the question that was posed to me on my return from Santiago. I stopped off in Toronto to visit family for an overnight and then headed back to San Francisco. Ironically the last time I was annoyed by the security at an airport was also in Toronto.

Anyways this time I went through the "regular" line and thought I was good until as I was trying to go to Customs I was informed that I should go into a side room. I looked around as I was informed this thinking that the agent was referring to someone else, but it was clearly yours truly. The side room was overflowing with hopelessness as students, new immigrants, or foreign travelers sorted through their stories. One student had all his paperwork out, another person had recently changed passports, and the problems went on. It seemed strange to me, at 530AM, that I would find myself in this room, because I didn't share anything in common with these people. At the counter I began to get the third degree. Where are you coming from? Santiago. Where are you going? Toronto. Where do you live? California. How long are you here? One day...doh! The agent asked to see my return ticket. This is where it got good. I didn't have a printout of my ticket. It's an electronic ticket why would I have a copy? He suggested I check my PDA or smartphone. Little did he know that he had one of the least technologically forward people in front of him. I informed him that I didn't have such a device, but my ticket was only in my email. He asked if I could pull it up. I told him that I didn't have access unless he had a suggestion. He scoffed at what he assumed to be a request to use his computer, but what was in reality a jab at blocked off wireless service in this side room. We moved on. What "company" are you traveling with? The obvious answer to me seemed to be the name of my employer. He looked confused and restated the question. I responded with an emphatic, "did you mean what AIRLINE am I traveling with?" If you are dealing with weary travelers getting off a 10+ hour flight, half awake, and often speaking broken English it might be good practice to have patience and phrase your questions in the simplest most obvious way. The flip side is that I should have patience for him b/c he's probably been working 12 hours talking to a bunch of frenetic travelers. However, that is a fault of the system...too few workers = tired/snappy workers. Anyways we finally reach the end of our stalemate with the agent stating that he needs my ticket and conceding when I give him my uncle's name and wrong place of birth. The conclusion was later reached that I was deemed suspicious for only being in the beautiful city of Toronto for one day.

What is a salad?

In my mind a salad is a reasonably healthy food option, which contains a majority of vegetables. There is often a dressing involved to give flavor to the mostly raw vegetables. The reason I ask this question is because I was in a fast food restaurant the other day and noticed their nutrition facts. I enjoy reading this to see what is at either end of the spectrum. In my mind a salad belongs at one end of the spectrum, but I think that I place it at the wrong end. I never thought that the most unhealthy item on a menu would be the salad. The two salads on this menu had the most calories of anything on that menu. Naturally these salads break my "definition" of a salad by including fried meat (chicken strips, fried chicken, fried shrimp, or some related item) and they usually have a significant amount of dressing. The HyWy made a good point that the serving sizes were not considered so a 300 calorie small item might contain more calories/oz than a 900 calorie larger item. The funniest part in all this is to see the people who are watching their weight order "healthy" and get a "salad".

Thursday, August 19, 2010

A milli a milli

For those that don't follow hip hop the title of this post is a reference to a song by Lil Wayne in which the background chorus has someone chanting "a milli" or a million dollars.  Another song has the Yung Joc talking about, "a couple grand".  Last but not least is Travis McCoy singing about how badly he "wants to be a billionaire."  Please note that I've added links to all of the songs if you want some more context.  Anyways in Chile the Chilean Peso exchange rate is 1 dollar to 400+ Pesos.  So the prices for everything are listed in astronomical quantities.  I have 10000 peso notes in my pocket.  You can see where this is heading.  I walked by a store today and I am dead serious the sign literally translated to "Everything inside for 1000 pesos."  In Spanish the sign was even funnier, because 1000 is "mil".  That was a moment I wished I had a camera to show all the cheap stuff that you could get for a "mil".  Somehow the Mil Store doesn't have the same ring as the Dollar Store.  After I walked by I was thinking about the above mentioned songs and how they can't possibly have the same appeal here where you "drop more than a G on a drink".  I laughed to myself with images of rap stars attempting to "make it rain" when "making it hail" is more appropriate given the amount of bills necessary. 

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

En Santiago

Well I'm in Santiago for a few days so I thought I should put out a few dispatches.  A bunch of random thoughts from the trip and a few about Santiago.

First maybe I'm naive, but I didn't realize that so many people are down with popping some sleeping pills, having some booze, and then getting on a long flight.  I had heard my friends talk about it and I figured it was just them.  At the airport I heard a couple talking about it and saw some others "prepping".  I see the advantage and even attempted to take some sleeping pills, but they were largely ineffective.  I managed to sleep about 4 hrs, which was good solid sleep.  I still had to deal with another 7 hrs of flight time.  Somehow I'm still reasonably awake right now and dreading the crash that will happen later tonight.  I'm not sure how I will manage to stay awake until dinner as many places here don't open until 8 or 9. 

Why are people SO self absorbed that they can carry entire phone conversations while practically yelling into their phone.  Don't know what I'm talking about?  Look around you when you're waiting to catch your next flight.  If you are in any major city during the week you're bound to see the "important and powerful" businessman/woman carrying on a conference call on their Blackberry (on Bluetooth also) while tapping away on their laptop.  Don't get me wrong I have done all of the above (conference call and laptop) in the last month, but I can't imagine I'm as loud as most of these people.  I was in the middle of a terminal in San Francisco where American Airlines had tons of flights coming and going (so massive crowds, kids, PAs, etc.), but I could still hear and follow clearly the conversation this guy was having 10 ft away from me. 

Have you ever noticed some random person in the airport and wondered where they are going or what their story is?  I think about that and how after that moment when I see that person I will almost certainly never see them again in my life.  What I think is most interesting is when I see a person and then they end up on my flight or even more amazingly right next to me.  The story this time was when I went to enter the security line a young Indian kid (early 20s) dressed in street clothes thanked me for visiting the US and wished me a good journey.  I immediately started laughing, because he was doing this to everyone for a reaction.  He immediately started laughing too.  I then noticed that his friend, another young Indian, was laughing and waving to a young kid (their cousin, friend, etc.) whom I presumed they had seen off at the airport (or maybe just thanked for visiting the US).  The kid ended up in my security line and even got in trouble with the security woman.  I didn't pay much attention, because she was just another traveler and there must have been at least a dozen flights leaving in the next hour.  Once my flight started boarding she turned up again.  On the plane she was seated right behind me.  However, the story ends there and at my connection she was no longer there.  I wonder what her story was and more importantly who was the random guy thanking me for "visiting"? 

Santiago is an interestingly mixed city.  It mixes the modern western look with parts of India.  It mixes urban with enormous mountains 40km away.  It mixes European culture with South American culture.  I see a lot of similarities to other places I have been or maybe it's just the more places you go the more they look the same. 

Saturday, August 14, 2010

Coming Soon: Superbad IN 3-D!!!!!

Ok that's not really going to happen, but the way things are going it might.  I feel as though EVERY single movie these days is coming in 3-D.  I think 3-D is cool, but I don't need to see everything that way.  I would even like a choice with some of the movies that "are supposed to be watched in 3-D".  The other night we went to see Despicable Me (in 3-D :P) and the funnier part was how amazed some of the people around us were.  I don't consider myself "with the times", but I've seen 3-D movies before in Disneyland or wherever and this was really no different.  I expect the ooing, ahhing, and reaching out to "touch something" from 10 year olds not from a middle aged person.  What's even more frustrating about 3-D is that it's significantly more expensive than regular, which is another reason I think they should be offered both ways.  The HyWy and many other people's problem with 3-D is the damn glasses.  I can't believe it's 2010 and we're using something that is one step further than the cardboard red and blue lens glasses of the past.  We should easily be using some cover that goes over the whole screen instead of crappy plastic glasses.  So there you have it...I hate 3-D (most of the time). 

Thursday, August 5, 2010

Hey Joe!

Steven requested a retelling of a classic story from my days at the sporting goods store. 

We had a call in customer who would call to ask about BMX bikes in stock.  The problem was that he never made good on his calls and he took up valuable time that we could be selling on the floor so the all of us would fight to avoid taking his calls.  A typical call would go like this:

Sales Associate: Ski Bike and Marine how may I help you?
Joe (in a rapid fire delivery reminiscent of an over caffeinated or meth addicted individual): Yeah hey this is Joe.What kind of BMX bikes do you have in stock?Do you have any Haros?I love Haros.Do you have any camo bikes?I don't want no pink bikes.Do you have any with pegs on them?
SA: Hey Joe.  Let me see what we have.
(attempts made to solicit other associates to check and take the transferred call at another phone).

This would go on often for 15 or 20 minutes.  One day Joe actually came in and even bought a bike, but I wasn't there to witness this.  I was there to witness Joe return a week later to try to return the bike.  As I stood there I saw a mid 40s black man sweating profusely in shorts and a t-shirt with a shaved head and a sweatband ride up to our department.  He attempted to tell us that he had wrecked on this nice high end BMX and thus wanted to return it.  If we had taken it back then we would have never been able to resell it so my manager was trying to get out of taking it (knowing full well that there was no reason for Joe to want to return it).  We noticed that the bike had undergone an upgrade.  The crankset (pedal and big sprocket connected to the chain) had been upgraded to a very nice 300 dollar crank (probably about half the value of the bike).  We told Joe we'd take the bike as is and he said he needed his crank back and we told him that it gets returned as is or not.  He gave in.  Another time he came in babbling on about how he was an architect and had designed a building down the street so he wanted to buy a 500 dollar gas powered scooter.  He bought it and took it home.  He came back a few days later trying to return it with gas in it claiming that he couldn't store his new scooter in his building.  We told him that we couldn't take a return with gas in it and off he went again.  I wonder what Joe is up to these days.

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Excuse me is that a gun in your bag?

An odd title for a post that I'm writing while waiting for a flight,
but that was the scene that played out in front of me in security.
Not quite the way you think though. I watched a young couple plead
with the security staff over a water pistol, that in their defense
looked nothing like a gun, which was in their carry on bag for their
young son. This scene brought back images of another young father
coming back from Arizona with a toy pistol, that incidentally looked
much more like a real gun, for his young son. That was a long time
ago and that young father admitted that he neglected to move said item
to his check in. That was also more than 10 years before 9/11 so
times were less strict, which is why it blew my mind that in this day
and age a passenger would conscientiously try to argue to be allowed
to bring their water gun on the plane. Eventually the mom conceded
and left the toy, which the did not seem to bother the son in the
least. Perhaps when he grows up and sees a similar scene play out
he'll remember his water gun.

Taking a roller coaster ride down memory lane...

On our most recent trip to Atlanta the HyWy and I took a roller
coaster ride down memory lane. I say that instead of the usual
'stroll down', because at one point the HyWy said that it was an
overwhelming amount of memories. In my case I only went to two places
on memory lane, but in her case we visited her high school, one
elementary school, and several apartment complexes from younger days.

After I got out of college I was unable to find employment and worked
at a sporting goods store on and off for a few years. After I
relocated the chain of stores was sold to another company. Since I
left Atlanta I had never been back to the store I worked in, which was
an enormous 3 floor or 60 ft tall building. One night I happened to
be in the neighborhood so I decided to stop by and see whether the
interior had changed under new ownership. I was amazed to see that
other than a few small shifts the store was essentially the same. All
the departments were in the same places and my department looked
unchanged after nearly 8 years. It was a very surreal feeling to walk
the floor that I knew so well. Everything felt familiar, but none of
it felt right. It was a bit like trying on something you haven't worn
for years that you haven't exactly outgrown. Riding in the elevator
and touching the buttons for the floor I could feel myself flashing
back to the end of a long shift. Looking down from the upper floors I
remember hanging out with other associates and shooting the BSing to
pass the time. Those were fun times, but I'm glad that that article
of clothing doesn't feel right anymore.

Saturday, July 17, 2010

What items define our generation?

As I went to sleep last night I was thinking about what the definitive items are of our generation.  The three items that I came up with were a CD, a cell phone, and an email address.  I think everyone I know has or had at least one of each of these.  Then I started to get more specific and I realized that we don't fit many of the more specific details.  Almost everyone I know has a Facebook account (including my parents) so that could easily be considered something definitive about this generation.  A good number of our friends have iPhones, but not as many as have Facebook.  I could make a case that social media itself is something definitive and then we could include all the "previous" Facebooks (Myspace, Friendster, etc.) and even current trends like Twitter.  In any case I think this all goes back to the email address.  I still remember my family's first email address: madhatt285@aol.com.  In 1992 we were using probably a 14.4k modem to dial up to AOL and internet browsers barely existed.  Now all of the aforementioned sites function off of your email address.  It is amazing to look back on our short lifetimes and realize how much things have changed. 

Sunday, July 11, 2010

What is a sport?

According to the Oxford English Dictionary the word "sport" means:

An activity involving physical exertion and skill in which an individual or team competes against another or others for entertainment.

To me it seems that the things that make a sport a sport are skill, physical exertion, and the act of competition.  Naturally for sports that are more subjective and requiring judging of style some set of guidelines must be established in order to determine the winning competitor.  Anyways where I'm going with this is this short piece for E:60 that I saw on Parkour.  I find it interesting that there is so much discussion against why parkour and there is even a mention of rock climbing not being a sport.  I think that if rhythmic gymnastics, figure skating, or any other Olympic sport that requires judges awarding points for artistic performance can be a sport than so can parkour.  Another point that is made that anything that you can do while eating is not a sport to which the very appropriate response was have you seen baseball.  One of the first comments that the anti-parkour lady makes is that do people not have anything better to do with their day than jump off buildings.  That blind argument can be made the first time someone sees anything new.  Anyone with an Indian grandmother has probably heard them say while watching basketball, why don't they give them all balls so they don't fight over one?  American football is the most glaring example of is there nothing better to do, but it just so happens that it is ingrained in our culture.  If American football was reinvented today the complexity of the game would greatly diminish it's ability to succeed.  The height of this argument comes when the anti-parkour lady (who happens to be black) states that parkour is something that white people do and there are no black people that would take part in this.  Obviously she is making a gross generalization, because some of the most influential traceurs (practitioners of parkour) are black.  Whether black people participate or not is a topic for another post, but what she was driving at is that it is not something that interests her race.  She is probably the same person that would have argued that before Tiger Woods black people weren't interested in golf or before the Williams sisters they weren't interested in tennis.  I think that should be the goal of ESPN to open our eyes to a broader variety of things, because they have the means to make them known to us.  Well I digress.  Watch the piece if you have time and decide for yourself whether you think parkour fits your definition of a sport. 

Friday, June 25, 2010

Most Valuable Helper

An eloquent tribute to a larger than life figure that I remember seeing play at my first NBA game. I wish more players embodied his spirit. Original article here.

Most Valuable Helper - Op-Ed Columnist

By Nicholas Kristof

Sports stars often make headlines with spectacular misconduct, and they don’t use their celebrity enough to make the world a better place. But every now and then, along comes a star as gifted ethically as athletically — and I’m thinking now of one of the greatest basketball players ever.

Certainly not one of the best shooters, for he averaged only 2.6 points a game. But Manute Bol, at more than 7 feet 6 inches tall, was a moral giant who was unsurpassed in leveraging his fame on behalf of the neediest people on earth.

Bol died on Saturday from a noxious mix of ailments, exacerbated by his insistence on working in Sudan to build schools and forestall a new civil war. Bol’s great dream was to build 41 new schools across Sudan (he admired the first President Bush, hence the No. 41).

It’s a lofty dream, particularly because he is no longer around to speak at fund-raisers. It’s almost as inconceivable as the dream he had when he was an African cattle-herder aspiring to play in the N.B.A. — and this too can be a slam-dunk, posthumously, if his fans help out.

If each admirer chipped in the cost of a ticket to just one game, if each of his former teams agreed to match donations, if a few current and former N.B.A. stars agreed to stand in for Bol at fund-raisers, why then schools would sprout all across Sudan.

The first of Bol’s 41 schools is now approaching completion in his childhood village, said Tom Prichard, executive director of Sudan Sunrise, the charity that Bol used to build his schools. Forty to go.

Bol grew up herding cattle. Twice he ran away in hopes of attending school, but he never got much formal education. He moved to the United States and played in the N.B.A. from 1985 to 1995, setting a rookie record for blocking shots. He was a curiosity, the tallest player in the league when he started.

As Bol began playing before large crowds in America, his homeland exploded in violence. Northern Sudan waged a savage war against the South, costing roughly two million lives. American officials and news organizations mostly looked the other way, but Bol worked passionately to ease the suffering.

One summer, Bol button-holed more than 45 members of Congress, trying to get them to pay attention to the slaughter. He donated most of his basketball wealth to help the people of southern Sudan, and he flew into war zones to highlight their suffering. Sudan bombed camps that he visited, perhaps in an effort to assassinate him.

Some 250 people in his extended family were killed in the war, Bol estimated, many of them by Sudanese soldiers from Darfur. Yet when the Sudanese Army turned on Darfur in 2003, he was one of the southern Sudanese who led the way in protesting the slaughter in Darfur.

Bol envisioned co-ed, multifaith schools in which Christians in southern Sudan studied alongside Muslims from northern Sudan. Darfuri Muslims have been helping to build the first school, in Bol’s hometown of Turalei, a two-and-a-half day drive from the nearest paved road.

Robert McFarlane, a former national security adviser to former President Ronald Reagan, traveled late last year with Bol to Turalei and gushes about what a “giant heart of gold” Bol had. Mr. McFarlane told me: “The people of Turalei almost worshiped Manute for his commitment to make schools available for their kids.”

Critics sometimes derided Bol’s kooky publicity stunts, like participating in a celebrity boxing match or putting on ice skates to become the world’s “tallest hockey player.” Bol shrugged off the scorn because he seemed to care less about his dignity than he did about raising money for schools.

Bol made his American home in Olathe, Kan., and a local paper, The Kansas City Star, made a larger point a few weeks before he died:

“Bol symbolizes an unfortunate side of our sports obsession and how we measure the worth of those who play,” The Star noted. “The best athletes get the love, most times regardless of what they do away from sport. Bol, doing the work of a saint, is largely ignored.”

A new civil war may be brewing today in Sudan: The South is expected to secede early next year in accordance with an international treaty, and many fear that the North will unleash war rather than lose oil wells in the South. President Obama and his administration have been weak and ineffective toward Sudan in ways that make another horrific war there more likely. We can only hope that President Obama and his aides will be bolstered by Bol’s gumption and moral compass.

Bol will never be able to cut the ribbon at the schools he dreamed of. But we can pick up where he left off. In a world with so much athletic narcissism, let’s celebrate a Most Valuable Humanitarian by building schools through his charity, www.SudanSunrise.org.

Thursday, June 24, 2010

Have you heard this one (Part 2)??

A SKINNY INDIAN GUY WALKS INTO AN ELEVATOR...

...following 7 grandmothers. Again the odd one out this time going up to our floors the grandmothers all were fumbling for their keys to trigger the elevator to go to the right floor. They were going to the 3rd floor and I was going to the 8th. One of them asked me where I was going. Before I could respond the others chimed in, "he's going to his room!" Without missing a beat another responded, "why? Do you want to join him?" Naturally there was much laughter and I didn't really have an opportunity to counter with anything and to be honest I was somewhat speechless.

Though both of the above incidents sound as though they are jokes I assure you that I can't make up stuff like this.

Have you heard this one (Part 1)??

A SKINNY INDIAN GUY WALKS INTO AN ELEVATOR...

...and is greeted by 7 big guys all wearing black.  I was the only person wearing any color (red and orange).  There were four guys wearing Daisy Duke style cutoff shorts, sneakers, fake (?) long brown hair, sleeveless leather jackets without shirts, and headbands.  The remaining guys were dressed more "normally" in jeans and black tshirts.  I was immediately asked whether I was "going to the Iron Maiden concert?"  As if my appearance (slacks, dress shoes, dress shirt) didn't give it away I responded that I wasn't.  They proceeded to jovially discuss how they planned to sneak various illicit items into the concert.  Outside the hotel it was madness in the streets with numerous metalheads making their way down the street to the GM Place.  I reflected on the situation and thought that if I had the choice to be randomly outside a concert before or after that was either a large hip hop show (Snoop, Dre, etc.) or a large metal show (Metallica, Iron Maiden, etc.) I think I would rather find myself at a metal show.  If metal fans get drunk and angry they pretty much just fight and if I'm sober and caught nearby I can easily get away from the situation, because it mostly involves fists.  Conversely if the same situation happened outside a hip hop concert I can't be sure, but I would be very wary that there would be a gun pulled out very soon.  Naturally these are big generalizations and people get fatally injured at metal shows all the time and there are countless safe hip hop shows, but this was my thoughts. 

Sunday, June 20, 2010

The perils of sharing dessert...

There are two perils, as far as I can tell, with sharing dessert that I have run into.  The first was really more unfortunate for the HyWy, because often I would get carried away in my enjoyment of our shared dessert and she would find it more than halfway finished.  Now I've learned to eat slower and also periodically check in to see how she's doing.  The second peril as I found out tonight is not so much about sharing, but rather what happens when your "sharer" is not present.  I ordered a dessert tonight and got about halfway through it when I realized I still have to finish the other half.  Perhaps I should have thought ahead and portioned some out for the person sitting next to me;). 

Brazil v. Ivory Coast

I met up with a few Couchsurfers to watch the Brazil match this morning in an area of town known as Commercial Dr.  It's similar to the Mission in that they are both very international.  The masses of Brazilians heading to the bars was amazing.  They had flags as capes, hats, and the rest of the get up.  Cars would drive down the street honking at them and they would cheer.  We ended up at a bar that would only let the exact number of people in that there were chairs available.  I've never heard of a bar/pub doing that.  We moved our tables out from the corner so we could better see the TV and we were repeatedly chastised by the waitresses.  Anyways once the match started the Brazilians were vocal with every touch and positive move that their side made.  There was a small contingent of Ivory Coast support or maybe they were anti-Brazil.  In the end the Brazilian fans came off a bit pompous though as they taunted the Ivory Coast fans and even flashed "L" hand gestures.  Don't get me wrong I'm all about talking smack, but that usually happens when there is history between the teams or when friends are involved.  I'm not really in favor of taunting random strangers in a bar supporting a team we don't have a rivalry with.  Regardless though it was fun to watch the match in a bar full of fans and everyone cheering.  There was definitely one shared enemy at the end of this one and that was the referee whether for Kaka's second yellow or the double handball of Fabiano. 

Bowen Island

After a week of rather crummy weather it warmed up dramatically on Saturday so I went ahead with my plan to go kayaking on Bowen Island.  Getting there was a bit of an ordeal has I had to take an express bu, which was almost an hour and then wait at the ferry terminal for ferry that came once an hour.  As it turned out I arrived just as the other ferry had left so I had an hour to wait.  The ferry ride was only about 20 minutes and once on the island the kayak rental place was right there. 

The funny thing was that the kayak rental guy swore up and down that he was convinced I had more experience in kayaking than I was letting on.  I told him that I had kayaked once or twice.  He didn't believe me so I told him that the first time was in Jamaica up and down a beach (doesn't really count) and then once in the Bay Area.  We had a river tour in Belize, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't a traditional kayak.  He finally concluded that I had a confidence about me that suggested I had been more. 

Once I got out onto the water it was exhilarating to be such a small boat in such an enormous body of water and surrounded by mountains.  The water was calm in the protected cove and even for a while once I ventured out to the next bay.  However, as soon as I got into the unprotected waters it started to get pretty choppy.  The owner told me to stay 15 meters or so off the shore.  The next thing I knew I looked up and I was easily several hundred meters off the shore, because I had cut across the bay and not along the shore.  When I decided to turn around I saw an enormous ferry starting it's 20 min journey over to where I was heading.  I knew that he would reach at the same time I would so I meandered about so as not to get in his way.  The return trip was against the wind so I was really fighting and man could I feel it in my core.  The shop owner said that if you are sore in your arms from paddling you're doing it wrong so I guess all my kayaking "experience" paid off. 

Where do you look in your hometown?

In a new city I can't help but look all around me as I walk down the street.  I look at the buildings, the stores, the people, the streets, the cars, the parks, the signs, etc.  I've noticed that people tend to stare straight ahead when they walk in Vancouver, but I think that that is because this is what they are used.  I've been thinking about what I do when I walk through San Francisco and I think sometimes I look around, but for the most part I stare ahead.  I know that after doing the same commute for months or years there might not be anything new to see, but the commute is never the same twice so there's always something to see.  Here's to looking like a wide eyed tourist in whatever city I am in. 

Saturday, June 19, 2010

How Friday unfolded...

Yesterday after I got off work I thought I would walk back to the hotel and perhaps soak in the hot tub.  As soon as I walked out of the building and onto the main street I saw tons of people on the sidewalk.  It turns out that the power had just gone out and everyone was walking out of the stores/restaurants trying to figure out what was going on.  At the hotel the power was also out so I thought I would do the only logical thing: have a beer.  Inside the bar one of the barmaids that was not working was hanging out with one of the regulars and I sat near them.  The regular, Gary, made a reference to working in a "studio".  As anyone that knows me well knows the minute I hear the word "studio" my ears perk up.  I asked Gary what he does and it turned out that he works as a recording engineer in the CBC (Canadian Broadcasting Company) TV and radio studio that was a block away.  Over the next 10-15 minutes as his friends/coworkers came through I met a lighting guy and someone who travels with the Canucks to do sound for hockey games.  Then Gary offered to give me a tour of CBC studios, which I naturally readily accepted.  Once we finished our drinks we walked over to the second or third largest studio in Canada.  We walked in from the loading bay where he pointed out one (the TV one) of the two mobile rigs that the CBC uses, but the mobile audio rig was out for a gig.  From there we went into one of two stages similar to what I imagine the Letterman Show or the Tonight Show would be recorded on.  There were a set of bleachers for an audience of a couple hundred to sit and there was a band doing a sound check for a concert on Saturday.  Gary showed me how they route the sound from the mics to a splitter, to the live mixer, and then upstairs to the TV control room.  I had never seen a live TV control room so he explained how the master control operator takes direction from the director and assistant director.  We also saw the enormous lighting grid on the ceiling and how the lighting supervisor can select lights to use.  From there we went to the post production studio that handles the audio for the TV broadcast.  Then Gary took me into a series of rooms that they use for radio dramas.  The rooms were filled with foley (sound effect) props; it was something straight out of A Prairie Home Companion.  There were sinks, a bathtub, a set of stairs with two different surfaces, doors of all kinds, two sets of stoves, etc.  Next we saw where Gary works (he's been with the CBC for 35 years), which was a live room where they have concerts that are recorded for live release on CD, live radio broadcast, etc.  Next week the Jazz Festival is in town so Gary was saying that he has a lot of shows set up.  In the control room Gary pulled up some live recordings he has done and put them up on the studio monitors (speakers).  Man did the sound amazing!  We talked about their recording methodology, equipment used, etc.  The last area we toured was the news area and that was AMAZING.  I've always seen the news, but never seen a news studio.  Funny after living in Atlanta for 7 years I never toured the CNN studios.  The CBC studio has double studios of EVERYTHING because they have one for the French broadcast and one for the English broadcast.  I saw the news studio, teleprompters, news desk, weather desk, and all the radio booths.  Once we were done with the tour Gary mentioned how the band that we saw rehearsing was going to have a concert on Saturday evening and if I wanted to come they seemed to be short on audience members.  Unfortunately I spent the day kayaking so as I write this I'm too tired to move from my bed. 

However the adventure doesn't end there.  Parting ways with Gary I started to head toward Gastown where I intended to eat dinner.  Along the way I walked by a guy and two girls when the guy asked if I knew how to to get to the "Night Market."  I confessed to him that I didn't as I wasn't even from the area.  He asked where I was from and we started talking.  He introduced himself as Lee (or Leigh) and introduced the two girls (whose names I don't remember).  Leigh explained that the night market was a outdoor evening Chinese market in Chinatown.  When I told him where I was going he informed me that we were heading away from the direction I needed to head and I told him that was fine and I'd walk with them for a while.  When we found the night market Leigh ran into several groups of people and introduced me as his new friend.  The night market was ok and it kind of reminded me of all the stores in SF Chinatown setting up a market.  Eventually I told Leigh I was going to go back to my search for food and we went our way. 

The thing that sticks in my head about these chance encounters was how as the HyWy pointed out this is what traveling is really about...meeting new people and having new experiences.  I'm glad that even on a work trip somehow I've had some real experiences.  Today and tomorrow are more adventures, but that's for another post. 

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

TMI Facebook/Twitter

Last August I wrote a post about the cell phone crutch and the last few months I have seen people Tweeting or Facebooking in random situations that leads me to write a somewhat connected post.

In a reasonably high profile situation recently where a group of us were together for a few hours and had the opportunity to bond I noticed one of the players repeatedly checking her Facebook. I don't think any set of circumstances allows me to justify the public checking of your Facebook. What could possibly be going on there that is more important than talking with the people in front of you? I feel like this instantaneous form of communication is actually distancing people more as they spend so much time 'connecting' that they forget the real true connections in front of them.

On occasion I check in on a few Twitter feeds to see what someone said about a soccer match or if there is any new bouldering routes at my gym. As with most things I read if I see something on a page of interest then I click that link, which sends me down a rabbit hole of links. One twitter feed I found had an individual talking about how they can't believe how many people get in touch with them in a night to see where they are going. I think Twitter feeds people's self importance. They look on their Twitter and it says that 500 people are following them so they feel more important. Someone told me that they think 95% of tweets are garbage and a few actually are relevant and useful. I agree.

Two down one to go

While in Vancouver I find myself without two things that I use so regularly their absence leaves me feeling a little lost.

The first is my cell phone. I'm sure I can find a way to get service in Canada or I can probably just use my phone to text, but as luck would have it I forgot my cell phone charger. Instead of freaking out, buying a new charger, or worse yet getting a cheap phone and inserting my SIM into it I took the simplest way out and turned my phone off for the duration of my trip. In the past few days I have noticed small ways in which I "miss" my phone. Can't remember the name, address, or phone number of a restaurant? I can't just GOOGLE text anymore. Need to know the time at some random moment walking on the street? Probably doesn't really matter because other then being on time to work I have nowhere that I need to be on time to. How do I get in touch with the HyWy or people I want to meet? They call the hotel or email me.

The second item is my car. I'm not as much lost without as getting used to the idea of not even being in a car. Usually when we go to India I don't drive for a month or so. When I was in Peru I was taking taxis everywhere. In Vancouver I haven't set foot in a car since Monday. That is practically unheard of in my life.

Now the thing that I need to separate myself from is my laptop, but that is much harder than it seems as I actually need it at this point.

A little boy's dream

I can't believe the amount of development going on in Vancouver. It's as if every block has some construction going on, which makes me wonder how they managed during the Olympics. I'm sure that most if not all of this work wasn't going on then as it would probably really snarl the traffic.

Across the street from our office is a standard high rise apartment size plot of land which is in the first phases of construction. They have just laid the foundation and are working on the first and second floors it seems. To me this seems like every little boy's (and perhaps some little girl's) dream. I could spend endless hours just watching out the window as the crane turns and moves concrete into place to set the supports. We are literally across the street so I can see the crane operator from our 5th floor windows as he skillfully maneuvers the enormous boom from about 10 stories up. For years I had never seen one of these cranes operate up close and wondered what it looked like. The other day as I stood there he was moving the concrete drum forward and it almost looked like it could come crashing through our windows (that would have been disastrously cool). The one thing our offices lack right now are tables and chairs set right in front of the window where we can sit with our lunches and watch our childhood dreams.

Monday, June 14, 2010

Dispatches from the Field: Vancouver, Day 1

So I found out last week that I was going to have to come to Vancouver for 10 days starting today. In many ways this is a better assignment than my previous one in Lima, but in other ways it is worse and this is purely from personal perspective. Regardless I figured that another long term assignment of sorts means I should resume my blogging of interesting things.

The morning started at the airport with the Netherlands/Denmark World Cup match and was emblematic of one of the reasons I'm excited to be going to Vancouver. I enjoy being in another country during the World Cup to see how people get more worked up than in the US. Strangely enough 8 years ago during the World Cup I was in Toronto. At the airport it was fun to see how there were a few passengers interested in this game, but all the staff in the restaurant were watching and discussing the weekend games.

My arrival into Vancouver was uneventful and I made my way to the office after dropping off my bag at the hotel. Lunch was the most blog worthy part of the day as my coworker took me Japadog. The best way to describe the food at Japadog is that it's a traditional hot dog joint running head first into a sushi restaurant. I'm sure some of you are thinking, "raw fish with a hot dog? Ugh!" But this was more seaweed, radish, soy sauce, etc. with a hot dog. I'm sure most still are not sold and I was skeptical. However, I was won over by the reasonably good ideas that they concocted. However, the real funny part was that once I placed my order with the tiny Japanese girl she yelled it out to her compatriots in a barely intelligible JapEnglish hybrid and her compatriots yelled it back in confirmation. The staff of the little hole in the wall restaurant seemed to actually be having fun in the middle of their Monday lunch hour madness. One girl accidentally threw her pen across the room while working and just burst out in laughter. I feel that this kind of combination of jovial and high pressure atmospheres don't really exist in the US.

Another thing that caught my eye was the number of small restaurants in Vancouver. This isn't something new, because on numerous trips to Toronto it blows my mind the number or restaurants that there are. I've been to New York and I'm sure that there are more restaurants in New York than in either Toronto or Vancouver, but for some reason it doesn't feel like that is the case. Every block seems to have a kabab/falafel shop, Chinese food, Japanese food, pizzeria, and sandwich shop. I long for the days when my home office has this kind of food selection nearby.

That's all for now. More tomorrow.

Monday, May 10, 2010

So long and thanks for the memories...

For the past 2.5 months the HyWy and I have been trying to get a new car, because the Celica has pretty significant repairs required and with my parents in town a 4 door car is more practical.  While we have been looking I've been pushing to just get rid of the Celica, but now that the buyer is practically knocking on the door I can't let go.  The Celica was my first car that was my car, because prior to this the wagon I had was left to me by parents when they moved overseas.  It was the first car that I picked.  The Celica has been with me through plenty of good times and a few bad ones.  I know exactly how it feels on certain turns that I drive regularly.  I know the perfect position to drive when I'm tired.  There is a spot on the steering wheel that is well worn from my repeatedly holding it in that same place.  We've taken it to LA, Oregon, Tahoe, and several coastal trips.  I was driving it on the Bay Bridge when I saw an accident happen right in front of me and come to a rest within inches of my bumper.  It was the car I drove the HyWy in when I surprised her and proposed to her.  It was the car we drove around to look at wedding venues.  We were sitting in a parking spot above our neighborhood Trader Joe's when the HyWy found out about the passing of her cousin.  We drove to a meditation center to sit in pray/meditate when I found out about the passing of my uncle.  It was the car my little niece rode in and exclaimed, "Wheeeeee!!!!" as we descended San Francisco's hills.  It was the car that the HyWy entered with a new engagement ring while a friend sat and realized in the back seat what happened and started screaming.  I picked the HyWy up from the airport when she moved here in this car and it also took us to the airport before our wedding.  My parents have stuffed themselves in the car and driven it around.  People have complained about being stuffed in the back and have even tried to stuff an extra person in the back (not possible).  I've gotten 3 tickets (2 stop sign and one illegal left turn) in it.  On stressful days at work I've sought refuge in the car in the form of a nap, a book, or sports talk radio.  I learned how to change the oil, replace bulbs, and about the diagnostic connector on this car.  I've watched sunsets and sunrises over the Bay in the car.  The list goes on and on, but as the end draws near it will be only thing I keep. 

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

On the Turning Away

On the turning away
From the pale and downtrodden
And the words they say
Which we won't understand
"Don't accept that what's happening
Is just a case of others' suffering
Or you'll find that you're joining in
The turning away"
It's a sin that somehow
Light is changing to shadow
And casting it's shroud
Over all we have known
Unaware how the ranks have grown
Driven on by a heart of stone
We could find that we're all alone
In the dream of the proud
On the wings of the night
As the daytime is stirring
Where the speechless unite
In a silent accord
Using words you will find are strange
And mesmerised as they light the flame
Feel the new wind of change
On the wings of the night
No more turning away
From the weak and the weary
No more turning away
From the coldness inside
Just a world that we all must share
It's not enough just to stand and stare
Is it only a dream that there'll be
No more turning away?

-On the Turning Away - David Gilmour and Anthony Moore

Friday, March 12, 2010

Is global warming real?

I work in a conservative environment, which doesn't mean necessarily that there are a lot of conservatives but rather there are a few very vocal conservatives.  I tend to keep out of political discussions at work and in general, but I saw an article and I've heard a good deal of talk at work about the idea that global warming/climate change is not real.  I don't know the basis of the argument, but the net result is global warming is not real so I can do what I want, drive what I want, consume what I want, etc.  My question is what difference does it make whether global warming is real?  Don't get me wrong I think global warming is very real and I'm all for changing our behavior as well as convincing others to change.  However, for those that want to continue denying whether global warming exists why not just look at the simple facts about efficiency?  Everyone likes to save money and that's what it comes down to.  Make your home more energy efficient, reduce your water consumption, make your car more efficient, etc.  So it doesn't matter to me if people want to change for the global climate or for their bank account. 

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Do we take our legs for granted?

Recently I have started indoor rock climbing more because I joined a new gym.  The type of climbing that I do is called bouldering and does not use ropes, because our feet are never more than about 8-10 ft off the ground.  Bouldering is typically about technique and refining your climbing skills for top roping or lead climbing (climbing heights greater than 10ft with ropes).  When watching new climbers and even when being aware of my own climbing I have started to realize that the difference between us and experienced climbers is that we rely primarily on our arms.  An experienced climber will use their legs for most of their climbing strength and their hands serve to balance them or support them in between foot holds.  I think the reason we rely so much on our hands as novices is that we take for granted the strength that our legs actually have.  We spend all day walking, standing, squatting, running, and climbing stairs (even if we work in an office) so our legs are significantly stronger than our arms.  However, we are probably more conscious of what our arms do because they are not lifting, pulling, or supporting us as often as our legs.  Consequently I think as a beginner climber and even as everyday people we take our legs for granted until there is some problem.

Friday, February 12, 2010

Feeling the plight of the little man

I often give my Canadian cousins a hard time about Canada just because it's fun to see them get irritated.  Truthfully I really enjoy my visits to Canada and I love the cities of Vancouver and Toronto.  However, I often notice during my visits that people (not necessarily my cousins) feel the need to talk up Canada and all it's greatness.  I won't make fun of Canada with people I don't know so these situations usually occur out of the blue.  Similarly on our most recent trip to India there were several occasions when people touted the virtues of India over America.  As with the previous situation in these cases I was likely in full agreement, but people were still very vocal about why India was so good.  Both situations seemed to be cases of a little man's complex where Canadians or Indians (living in India) feel like Americans are in someway overbearing and need to be stood up to.  This is all just my interpretation.  Anyways I have never been in the position of feeling like I need to defend my space against something that is viewed to be 'better' until I realized I live in Oakland.  A friend has friends coming in from San Francisco to hang out in Oakland/Alameda and we were talking about how we feel a bit vindicated and happy when San Franciscans hear about things in the East Bay and come over.  I constantly feel the need to fluff up Oakland's feathers when describing things going on here or places to go to others especially San Franciscans.  I now understand what Canadians or Indians might feel like when they talk up their regions to Americans as I have my own little man's complex with Oakland. 

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

The Anonymity of Life

Last weekend I went out with the HyWy and some friends to an amazing art exhibition on graffiti with hip hop DJs and random 8 year olds breakdancing.  While I was there it struck me that that moment was exactly why I would never want to be super famous.  I'm not saying I don't want to be successful, but I want to stay out of the spotlight.  Celebrities are always saying how they can't go to the store or the movies without being recognized and I didn't think about how much I would miss anonymity until this random night out.  I enjoy finding new things, doing different things, and having new experiences so I'm not sure whether the trade off would be worth it.  Of course the people that make that trade have found something that they are so incredibly good/passionate at that they are willing to trade anything for it.  On the other hand I have found that thing, but if I was able to successfully do it I would still maintain a completely behind the scenes role.  This is even more in my mind with the entire Tiger Woods debacle.  I don't intend to make any judgment on what he did and whether it was right or wrong, but I can't imagine living his life where he is so recognizable that the only way to have an existence is by sequestering himself.  Of course then there is the bigger shift that comes with this immense change as someone becomes larger than life and that is what stars are always trying to counter by 'staying close to their roots', singing about being 'Jenny from the block', or maintaining that they are 'raw as hell.'  The beauty of anonymity is that in a way it grounds your ego, because you can't ask, 'do you know who I am?'  No one knows and more importantly no one cares who you are when you are anonymous. 

Sunday, January 24, 2010

The Never-ending Labor Pool

How do you think the job market would change if there was a endless
supply of affordable labor? To me the answer is it would be like
India. There such an enormous supply of labor that there is an over
saturation of employees. This is most evident in retail related
positions. At the malls there are 'security' guards at every corner
of the parking garage waving you in the direction of available
parking. I can see how in theory that streamlines the process of
finding parking, but that really only works in situations where no one
is leaving at the same time (ie sporting events and concerts). As we
would drive through the garage 'directed' to turn at a particular
corner we saw a spot open up next to us, but we were chastised for
trying to park in it by the 'security'. The presence of these guards
adds no value to the parking situation. In the stores the number of
staff outweigh the number of customers at least 2 to 1 and maybe more.
However, what good are sales reps if they have no interest in helping
the customer? In both cases it is as if people have been employed
just to fill a quota or to give the impression of something being
done. Is there a point in paying someone to do something if there is
no value added?

Saturday, January 16, 2010

One man's trash...is still that man's trash

While in India I was faced with one of the most repeatedly troubling aspects of travel to India that I always experience: littering. It will come as a surprise to Westerners, but for those of us that travel to India regularly there is nothing new in the fact that everyone litters in India. For the first time on this trip did I actually notice that one of the main causes of the litter problem in India is the fact that there are no garbage cans or waste bins anywhere. On several occasions we would be in the car with some trash and the instinctive response from those in the car with us would be, "just toss it out the window." No matter how small the piece of paper, gum wrapper, or toothpick it is I have never been able to toss it out the window. So I did what I do in the US when I can't find a trashcan I kept in my pocket or hand (assuming it wasn't wet, dripping with chutney, etc.) until I could find somewhere to toss it. It seems like such a fruitless exercise when I am witness to things such as entire plastic bags of leftover food being thrown from a moving train, but every little bit counts. One person told me, when they saw me collecting and holding onto the trash, that the reason they throw it out the window was because they want to make sure that the people that sweep and clean up "have work to do". I think that that is a cop out excuse to avoid taking responsibility for one's own actions. I know
the argument can be made that if I take the trash home or to any other receptacle it will likely be thrown on the street when the receptacle is emptied. Being an outsider I can only take the fight so far though and maybe I should take my relatives to the task of properly disposing
of it, but that's another battle.

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

The following posts were all written during a trip in November and left on my work email for me to send when I had Internet access.  However, I didn't get to them in the pre-India travel madness so they are all going out now.  Expect several more India related posts soon.

Sporting Experiences

After writing the above post about a sporting experience at the Big House I was thinking about other events that I would like to attend:

 

-A baseball game at Fenway Park

-A baseball game at Wrigley Field

-A hockey game for one of the Original Six NHL teams (Detroit, Boston, Toronto, Montreal, New York City, Chicago)

-A soccer match in between Celtic and Rangers (one representing Protestant and the other representing Catholic Glasgow) or between Boca Juniors and Riva Plate (rival teams in Buenos Aires)

-A soccer match in Camp Nou (home of FC Barcelona)

-A college football game at Auburn

-A college football game in Austin

-A college football game in Baton Rouge (LSU)

-A college football game in South Bend (Notre Dame)

-A college basketball game in Chapel Hill (University of North Carolina)

-A college football game in Eugene (University of Oregon)

-An FBS Bowl Game (Rose, Fiesta, Orange, or Sugar)

-A series of games in March Madness

-A World Cup match

 

Many of these will be difficult or near impossible to get tickets for, but I have a lifetime to work on it.  Anyone want to join?

The Big House

Whether you like college football or not one of the best experiences in sporting events is to find yourself in Ann Arbor, Michigan on a fall Saturday when the University of Michigan Wolverines are playing a home football game at the Big House.  In other college towns such as Gainesville, Athens, or Eugene people spend the whole day tailgating in preparation for the game, but in Ann Arbor where there has never been a night game (the stadium has no lighting) the tailgating started well before I was even up.  At 8:30 in the morning I could hear the sound of fans heading towards the stadium to get ready for the noon kickoff.  Walking to the stadium there were the undergrads all dressed up and half drunk spilling out of fraternity houses along the way, the alumni that organize enormous tailgating spreads and travel in huge RVs, the visiting fans proudly sporting their colors impervious to the jeers of the hoards, and wide eyed visitors like myself that incomprehensible at the fact that nearly everyone around me was going to the same place.  Passing the Big House the night before my hosts pointed out a stadium that was surely a high school stadium.  It was no more than 50-80 feet high and certainly not capable of containing over 100,000 fans, but it was then revealed to me that one enters the stadium nearly 2/3rds of the way up and then walks DOWN towards the field.  Sure enough we entered when we entered the stadium, which was almost full we just walked up a dozen rows to our seats looking down on nearly 80 rows of fans.  This is where the real experience began to sit amongst 110,000 people who were all singularly focused on the activity of about 30 individuals on the field.  I have been to other games where the crowd gets into the game as much, where they are just as passionate, just as crazy, just as loud, but never had I seen this many people congregated in one physical space.  There was also an amazing historical context of being in a space that for the most part has not been changed for over one hundred years.  Only now are modern luxury boxes, press boxes, and a lighting system being installed.  I enjoy imagining fans watching games 40-50 years ago where the only difference is the clothes being worn.  In the end the experience was everything that I imagined and then some. 

The Electronic Buzz

A few weeks ago we had an apartment full of guests, which led to unusual sleeping arrangements.  During this time the HyWy and I were sleeping for a few days in the living room.  One night when we went to sleep I was perturbed by a rather continuous hum in our new “bedroom”.  Unlike the HyWy I don’t sleep with earplugs so falling asleep with this humming sound was going to be difficult.  I looked around the room at the potential culprits: the DVR, two laptops, an external hard drive, and several cell phones.  It struck me then how prevalent it is to have a battery of electronic gadgets surrounding us at all times.  It is one thing to be connected at all times, but I didn’t realize how much technology had made itself a part of the background in my daily life.  Even in our normal bedroom I use an old cell phone as an alarm so I sleep with it nearby.  In the past I have slept with my active cell phone near me at all times, but that was when family or the HyWy lived in other time zones.  The omnipresence of electronics in our apartment is so common that until I focused on it I wasn’t even aware that something was running.  In the end I concluded that the best option was to find and turn everything off.  The HyWy stresses (and for very good reason) the fact that our bedroom is to be free of electronic stimulus. 

 

This abundance of electronic stimulus is not unique to the home as I found out when I was in the airport today.  Maybe it is the preholiday travel rush or the end of the week road warrior trip home, but I was amazed at how many people there were in the airport and more importantly how nearly every person was nursing some device (yours truly included).  The terminals were lined with people camped out on the floor seeking precious real estate by power outlets of all things.  To close I see a great deal of irony in my writing this reflection on my own laptop.