Wednesday, December 22, 2010
The ghost of Christmas Future
Monday, December 20, 2010
What is responsibility?
Thursday, December 16, 2010
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
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
Saturday, December 4, 2010
The evolution of education
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
The dilution of the word "friend"
Friday, October 29, 2010
What is higher education?
Sunday, October 3, 2010
What makes art? The tools or the artist?
True Blood
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?
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
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)
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
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)
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?
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?
Thursday, August 19, 2010
A milli a milli
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
En 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!!!!!
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Hey Joe!
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?
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...
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?
Sunday, July 11, 2010
What is a sport?
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)??
...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)??
...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...
Brazil v. Ivory Coast
Bowen Island
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?
Saturday, June 19, 2010
How Friday unfolded...
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
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
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
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
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...
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
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?
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Do we take our legs for granted?
Friday, February 12, 2010
Feeling the plight of the little man
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
The Anonymity of Life
Sunday, January 24, 2010
The Never-ending Labor Pool
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
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
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
-A baseball game at Wrigley Field
-A hockey game for one of the Original Six NHL teams (
-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
-A soccer match in
-A college football game at
-A college football game in
-A college football game in Baton Rouge (LSU)
-A college football game in
-A college basketball game in Chapel Hill (
-A college football game in
-An FBS Bowl Game (Rose, Fiesta,
-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.