round and round and round i go

2010-09-22T12:21:00.003+01:00

R.I.P. Professor Dunn

I just received a link from an undergraduate friend. Apparently one of my favorite professors passed away this February.

An engaging and humorous teacher, Professor Dunn was also one of the most challenging. He didn't mess around, he didn't tolerate distraction, and he demanded punctuality, attention, focus, and complete mastery of the material he taught. At the same time, he would give a real-world anecdote to almost every important concept, often drawn from the more odd and funny things out there, including his own student days (when it seemed he learned how to have a pretty good time, and spent a lot of time and money on beer). He also had this smirk on his face much of the time (especially outside of class) that was pretty funny in and of itself. You can sort of see it in the photograph in the linked articles.

A hard grader, it was often said that you would receive a D for Dunn in his classes. However, his demanding style pushed me more than most at the university, and as a result I always got good grades, but more importantly learned a lot. My father sat in on one of Dunn's lectures when he came to visit me early in my freshman year. He was really impressed, and that experience probably went a long way towards his willingness to foot that ridiculous GW tuition in semester after semester where all I seemed to do was play ultimate. I've often told people that the education you get at GW is as good as you want it to be, but you have to seek out the good professors who will push you. Dunn was one of those professors, and made a big difference in my college experience. Somewhat belatedly, thank you.

Rest in Peace, Professor Dunn.

2010-08-31T09:54:00.009+01:00

Quick Photojournal from Buxy

David mowing the lawn

I- regent of the land - do some gardening with my entourage - the bravest prince in all the land (Claire).

Time for a mid day nap in the blanket fort.

Gudrun makes egg pancakes for dinner with a little "help" from her daughters.

Claire showing off the paper show she made me.

My grandmother, and the "little cousins"

2010-08-27T13:33:00.002+01:00

For those who have trouble growing facial hair

Here are some customizable solutions:

http://www.etsy.com/listing/53961509/custom-bearded-beanie?ref=sr_gallery_7&ga_search_query=bearded+beanie&ga_search_type=handmade&ga_page=&order=&includes[0]=tags&includes[1]=title

In other news, I'm off on vacation tomorrow. A week in France: visiting the cousin and her daughters, then canoeing the Ardeche with some Good Lord! teammates, and finally competing in Grenoble with Good Lord! And by competing, I mean hanging on the sidelines sans alcohol, because I'm injured and can't drink with the meds. Maybe I'll even have time to squeeze in some writing and finish the WUCC series, but I wouldn't count on it.

2010-07-06T22:42:00.003+01:00

Day 3 - Tuesday, July 6th

All games after 12 pm canceled due to lightning, then water logged fields. Rescheduled for tomorrow, playing 3 games. This is very disappointing because of instead f playing in a 30,000+ football (soccer) stadium, we will now be playing on the worst fields in the tournament. Although those fields are still quite good, I wanted the big field, the stands - even if empty - and my name on the scoreboard after I catch the score. I know it's vain and selfish, but it makes me dream of a day when this sport is hugely popular and games do occur in hug stadia. I won't be playing anymore when that happens, but just once I wanted that feeling....
Other than not playing, I splashed out on a ton of gear at the 5 ultimate tent today. Not all that fiscally responsible, but the stuff feels amazing. Later I watched the Clapham (UK) vs Nomadic Tribe (JAPAN) showcase game, officiated the Dublin 100-meter sprint at halftime (they were all wearing proper trousers, blue collared shirts, and ties) which was globally viewable via a web stream, and received a text from Kat Smale (hi Kat!) in the UK after she saw me on the stream.

Alex Ong made an incredible stir fry for dinner. My stir fries are pretty good, but after tasting that, maybe I should just retire from making them.

Off to bed now, three important games tomorrow!

2010-07-06T09:18:00.013+01:00

First Set of Pictures from WUCC 2010

Lily (ICENI), Jon Cater, Charlie and Alex Meixner (HERD) on the plane. Go Wizz Air (I swear I'm not ting the piss)

Oh, look, Nice Phil (CLAPHAM) is here too!

Late night arrival at the hostel, where discussion about fields ensues with Fergus Weldon and Gash (both CLAPHAM), among others

The first thing we do in the apartments is get our player pack.... and start throwing around the mini disc in it.

That's Herdcore, Kos!

Germany game on the big screen on the Old Town Square

Germany wins!

Misha's all kit'ed up now in the double XL cowprint

Opening ceremony - weird but the guy doing handstands was impressive

About half the crowd - there are 3600+ players and staff at WUCC 2010

Max Woolf (QUIET COYOTE) shows off the corn

Now Spears is doin' it in the Herdchendise

2010-07-05T23:08:00.002+01:00

Day Two - Monday, July 5th

After a night in which we had a thunderstorm that made me think a building nearby had exploded and correspondingly bad sleep, we breakfasted and made our way up the athletic complex for a game against a Zagreb team. Not too much to say since they were bottom of the pool, and we knew we needed to win both games of the day in order to advance into the top 20 and power pools for the rest of the tournament. We came out hard, played crisp offense and hard man D, leading to a 9-1 score at half. We then stayed strong and focused in the second half, although they were able to hit a couple of their deep shots, and finished the game out 17-5.
After ultimate games they do this thing named "The Call", where both teams stand in a big circle, ideally interspersed so no one adjoins a team mate, with arms slung over each others' shoulders. Each team then has one player speak (normally the captain) about the game. It's often gratuitously complimentary, but it helps keep the Spirit alive because you know that after a game you can't walk away from the opposition, but rather will still be engaging with them. Yeah, this is a hippie sport at heart, even though it is athletic and competitive on the field. The Zagreb captain gave the most excited and positive call I've ever witnessed. It was pretty awesome, and it showed through how, although their young team is being destroyed each and every game, for them it is an incredible opportunity to learn and be inspired. Also, the spirit of the game was incredible, everyone so positive and any potentially contentious situation resolved quickly, with lots of smiling, hand shakes and hugs. A really fun game to be part of.
Getting off the field early and putting in some time in the shade while refueling our bodies was appreciated for our showdown with CUSB, the Italian champs out of Bologna. For both teams, it was win and move into the top 24, lose and you've missed out on an amazing opportunity to play some of the world's top teams and grab some bragging rights and glory for your team.
Unfortunately, the showdown ended in a disappointing loss, and we are now in the bottom bracket. We came out extremely anxious and jittery, not looking like our normal selves on offense and taking a long time to adjust to their long game on D. I definitely was one of the main culprits in that respect, being so hungry for a layout D on an under cut that I gave up multiple long cuts that ended in scores to for them. However, these Worlds games are long, the weather hot, and you're never done until the last score is caught. Down 9-4 at half, then 10-5, we fought back to 16-15, disc on their goal line but unable to convert. Final score of 18-16, I think.
I really picked my game up in the second half, denying cuts, dumps and long throws while getting a few Ds, too. It all started when I was fouled going for a catch in the endzone, was fouled in blatant manner, but he then contested the foul (their team is known for poor spirit, but this was far from the worst game I've had against them in that respect). Alex Ong stepped up with some massive layout Ds and Alex Meixner had a HUGE layout score - her first true layout! Congrats Alex. Riley was all over, and was awarded MVP (a big mortadella) in this game. Harry is laying out like a madman, and his body looks the bit, he can no longer yell or laugh because it causes the wounds on his hips to re-tear, which is extremely painful. It hurt to lose this game, because although we are the better team (says Ben Spears, see next paragraph), we were unable to make that count. They came away with the shots they needed and we couldn't take advantage of the fact that they didn't have many quality subs. I think anyone who's played with me in big tournaments knows how much I hate losing, and how personally I take it, and this really hurt. I also threw what became our last pass of the game, where a defender saw what was happening and came off his man to jump in front of Amy Bartlett and got the D. I sometimes worry that I've developed the EVL syndrome, an affliction that a lot of us from GW are affected by - I think that throw from regionals 03 will always be in the back of my mind on those big points. The Rook was saying the same thing.
During the first half of the CUSB game, two of my g-dub (GW) team mates came to watch. Big thank you to Ben Spears and Tom Manowitz (The Rook!) for being an awesome sideline with quality banter and heckling. It's amazing to see that g-dub has sent multiple players from the same generation to this tournament, and apparently Faust turned down an invite to play with Boston's Ironside. Great to come from a program that churns out quality player after quality player and where we stay friends after we leave school and come out to support each other at these events, although Regionals are the ultimate proof of this as alumni come from around the country to see the team play every spring.
On a personal level, I saw myself as the inofficial Mr. Irrelevant of this tournament coming into it: last roster spot on the last team offered a spot. I've since heard a few other teams were given their spots even later, but more importantly, I belong here. The way I'm playing, I no longer I have any doubts about whether I deserve to play at this level. I speak enough languages that I can hear the other teams warning their players when I mark them, and conversely telling defenders that they have to stay on their toes when I'm on O. I was voted MVP of the Iku (Japan) game, and players are looking to trade arm bands with me, which I think is a big sign of respect. I've had three turnovers all tournament. It's inspiring, because I know I'm still ascending, far from peaking after the years I didn't play. I need to start hitting the gym to increase the distance on my flick, adding vertical leap - I want to go back to dunking basketballs - and becoming a lock-down defender whose player never even gets thrown to because there are no openings. I know it's not nice, but I stuck the game disc from the CUSB game into my bag: once it's on the wall of my room, it will be a daily inspiration to work as hard as I can and come back in 4 years as a better, stronger, faster player than I am today.

On a last note, thank you to those of you who have written me emails and/or are following the games and stats on the WUCC website. The stat keeping isn't perfect - they've missed some of my assists, for instance. But it's awesome to know you're "watching" from afar, and I'll continue to do my best to give you something to cheer for.

2010-07-05T09:32:00.001+01:00

Sunday July 4 – First Day of games

I could barely sleep last night, I was so nervous and excited for today to come. Finally, after months of working myself as hard as possible in sprint sessions, endurance runs before work, and daily strength exercises just t be considered for the team, no to mention what I’ve done since my selection, the day had finally arrive. We had our first game at 8.30, which meant a 7.30 start to warm ups on the field. And yes, that meant I was sweating hard and putting in serious effort well before the time I usually show up to work.

The first team was against Iku, the Japanese mixed champions. We played a fantastic game, with momentum swings back and forth. At one point we were even up a break, but unfortunately we were unable to keep our foot on the pedal, and ended up losing 17-13. Although a respectable score, we had drawn first blood and knew we could beat our seeding (28^th), with top 20 being a highly realistic goal.

I myself played very well in this game, being awarded the MVP by our opponents and scoring a sweet hat for that. I’ll post a pics when I have the opportunity. My D was strong, and I was turnover free for the game – a rarity for me, but something I’ve consciously been working on.

In our second game we matched up against Quiet Coyote out of Boston. This team features a good friend of mine whom I have known since my sophomore year of college, Misha Horowitz. If you had told me the day we met that we’d someday be facing each other at Worlds, I would have laughed in your face, so preposterous the idea was at the time. But today it became reality, and the surreal feeling that had surrounded this matchup since I saw it on the schedule was lifted when we slapped hands on the field. Misha and I have always matched up well, and today was no exception: we battled back and forth, each knowing the other’s moves all too well, which meant we both had to work hard to get what we wanted on the field. It was awesome. I wa also glad to see that after all his injury problems, Misha looks lean and fit, and he certainly proved that it is more than looks on the field. I don’t think he’s been this fast and nimble since he started getting injured, and he confirmed what I saw: he feels great and ready to play at this level. So good to see a friend get back on track like that.

Ultimately, we ended up losing to QC by a final score of 17-10, which I think was fair. Herd kept building throughout, as evidenced by the fact that they took half 9-3 but we went back and forth with them in the second half, each team delivering runs to keep the game exciting. Following the games, I gave Misha the full Thundering Herd kit I’d bought him, including the highly coveted cow print shorts – we’ve been receiving offers left and right for those things.

I finished out the day by drinking beer and having fun with QC, who hooked me up with a fitted hat, first in the Strahov stadium – HUGE – and then at the show game before returning to the flats for Si’s amazing spaghetti Bolognese. A solid start into Worlds, and we move on to Monday with the expectation of winning both games, against Zagreb and Bologna (CUSB) and moving up. I’ll start the day by watching Ben Spears and Chain, which is great. It’s amazing how many friends and acquaintances I have here! Max Woolf is playing on QC, also, and I ran into The Rook a.k.a. Tom Manowitz, who’s here with the Melbourne, Australia, team Redbacks that also features Herd 2 team mate Glenn Monauer.

I’ll keep you updated.

2010-01-14T21:16:00.002Z

Today Our Thought Go Out to You

I only heard about the massive quake in Haiti today, due to differences in the news cycle in the UK and my travel to the US yesterday. Speaking with the Jewish Palestinian today, I found him as stressed/distressed as usual, but for an entirely different reason. His flat mate and friend Greg, who studies African diaspora populations in the Americas for his Ph.D. is off the radar in Haiti. He was down there for research, and no one has heard from him since the quake, no one even knows where he was prior to the quake, whether in Port-au-Prince or the countryside.

Not that I know him all that well, but from my interactions with him I think Greg is a great guy, fantastic cook, and all-round first class act. As I told the Jewish Palestinian, Greg is probably on the front lines trying to help people, not thinking of whether his friends and family in the States are worrying about him. Here's hoping that that is the case, and he can access food and water while he assists other.

Our best wishes are with you Greg.

2009-12-17T11:29:00.005Z

14th Annual International Siem Reap Half-Marathon

I have played a lot of sports in my life: competitive basketball and tennis tennis year-round in Germany growing up, intramural baseball, basketball and soccer at FIS as a kid, swimming in our backyard pool and the local team, trying out for an American Football team in Frankfurt as a 14year old (and getting explicitly asked to return after only 20 minutes of the first practice, but not having enough money or time to afford the twice-weekly commute, and never even thinking to ask my parents), basketball, football, rock-climbing, and ultimate frisbee in high school, ultimate and intamural basketball in college, and everything else with a ball or a team in a less official capacity throughout my life. But there is one thing I never enjoyed, nor truly gave a shot: running.

In the 4 years at GW, I always ran harder than I wanted or even was smart in practice, but only went on distance runs if there was no way to avoid them. I always felt I could make up for that in practice, working harder than anyone realized, playing on a broken toe my senior spring that no one except Brody knew about (and that's why he always picked me up from practice after everyone else left - I physically could not walk home). So really, the longest distance I had ever run in my life was an 8 mile run Faust put us through my Junior year.

Until a few weeks weeks ago that is. When planning for my month in Cambodia, I very explicitly asserted that I would not visit the temples of Angkor Wat at Siem Reap during this trip. Since they are the highlight - and reason for - most trips to Cambodia, I should probably explain why I t would say that: Anytime I get into museums or archaeological sites I spend hours upon hours there, reading every printed word and trying to absorb as much of the place as possible. Given that my time in Cambodia was going to include no more than free weekends to explore things outside of Phnom Penh and I didn't feel that such a short time would do Angkor Wat justice (I think it's about 30 square miles in total), I told anyone who asked what I planned on seeing that I would not be heading to Siem Reap. Instead, I planned on getting to know Phnom Penh a bit, maybe going for a weekend (or two) at the sea by Sihanoukville. Angkor Wat would still be there on my next trip....

But then I was out for drinks my first weekend in town with the core of what became my regular P.P. crew, and one of them mentioned a half-marathon amongst the temples of Angkor Wat - with proceeds going to charity. The White African and I looked at each other, and though neither one of us committed right away, it was pretty clear to me that both of us would participate if our research/field work schedules didn't interfere. For me personally, the desire to complete this race were threefold:
- As I am missing, through the Cambodia and USA trips, the first 3 months of Burro training for next season I felt compelled to do fitness work on my own. Given my previously stated aversion to running, I thought that preparing for the half marathon would be a good way to motivate myself to go out and do the running work, at least.
- I didn't want to half-ass the temples in 2 days, but I felt this way I would at least see some of the temples without short changing them as the goal wouldn't be to actually see them. Rather I would be able to go and accomplish a specific task - the run - while still getting to see at least some of the temples.
- Not previously having run such a distance, a new challenge presented itself. More and more people I know are doing marathons, and I wanted to see what distance running is like. Plus, I believe you should try everything once and the fun things twice.

So how did it go?
- Prep was a disaster. Working in an office where the hours are 7.30 am to 5.30 pm, it was dark already when I would leave; and I wasn't about to run before work, homey please! In total, my preparation ended up consisting of an attempted 10km run on the Saturday the week before the race. Unfortunately, I attempted this run at noon in a tropical climate and polluted city. Running to the Olympic Stadium (more on that edifice/complex if I ever find the time) was ok as i was able to more or less stay in the shade. But once I was running in the big empty stadium, alone on the ash track with the scorching sun beating down on me I couldn't do much distance anymore. It was so brutal that I could only do 1200 meters (3 laps) at a time and would then have to rest in between. It was painful and despiriting, and after a few of these sets I gave up and began running back towards home, stopping for a fresh cococnut (about 1 liter of juice!) on the way. Total distance run was maybe 6 or 7 km, where i had intended to run 10 in the stadium plus the run there and back.
- On Friday night, 2 days before the race, The White African insisted we go running, so we once again headed to the stadium. It was going fine, this time running in a dark stadium, until we got kicked out. Total run? 4-5 km.
Neither the White African nor I had registered beforehand, and when we showed up at the on-site registration we were told it was closed as they had run out of spaces. This despite their insistence on the phone all week that registering on site would not be a problem. A girl who'd bussed down from Bangkok was in the same boat and the three of us got together to beg, demand, and cajole our way into the race, even as others around us were being turned away left and right (literally). We didn't get the timing chips, but we got to race, and that's all we really wanted.
- TLS and new wife (whom I'd never met before) were in Siem Reap the same weekend as the run, so we met up on Saturday evening for drinks and dinner. everyone else hit the sack early, but I ended up drinking with TLS until midnight. Mind you the race began at 6.30 am and out tuktuk was booked for 5.45 am, so I was getting up at 5.15
- The run itself was amazing. Running through/between the temple complexes along 1000 year old walls lining the smoothly paved roads with a forest canopy above much of the run and lots and lots of Cambodian children lining the side, extending their tiny arms for high fives/hand slaps it was an amazing first distance race experience. You'd be running along, especially after the 10k mark, just focused on putting one foot in front of the other and happen to look to the side, where beautifully carved temples were collapsed and eroded, their large carved rocks spilling down what once must have been a massively impressive facade all the way to the edge of the road. My descriptions really can't do the sensation of running there justice, so I'll just stop, It was amazing.
- Since my preparation had been so horribly sub-par, I did not have very high expectations for myself going into the race. I wanted to finish. I wanted to complete the first 10 k without stopping and walking. And in an ideal world, I thought maybe I could manage those first 10 k in 50 minutes despite the fact that I had only managed 6 minute kilometers in the two training sessions I undertook. Indeed, I expected to manage the first 10 to 12 k running, then walking until about 17, then running the rest. What actually happened was quite different:

I asked another runner for my time at the 6k mark, where I stood at 32:30, and decided to pick up my pace. I saw the same runner again at ~11k and decided to trail her as I was beginning to fade and she had come up from behind and passed me. At 12k I asked the time again, now at exactly 64 minutes flat. From then on we ran side by side as she clocked out kilometer splits, all of which were between 5:15 and 5:20 until about 17.5k when i told her to run on ahead as I knew I couldn't sustain the pace. I made the mistake of stopping to pee and coudln't get started again, so I just began walking, mixed with short runs, until a guy grabbed me from behind at about 19.5 and grunted "keep running!" I soon had left that guy in the dust and as I approached the finish I got faster and faster, concluding with a speed that I heard other runners and people in the crowd comment on very positively ("Look at how fast that guy's going!" was hear from someone in the crowd).
Ultimately, I crossed the finish line about 1:55 (one hour, fifty five minutes) after I crossed the starting line, surpassing all my expectations and feeling very good about myself. I now know that I can run a half marathon without training in under 2 hours. But I paid the price in pain over the following days. And yet I would do it again.

Here we are before the race

2009-12-17T10:49:00.002Z

Really Sabhumanimamyamagaga?!?

So right now I'm sitting in BKK airport (look up the full name for yourselves, it looks something like the above spelling although I added a few syllables.... but be advised that the pronunciation of the name is nothing like the spelling). I flew in from Chiang Mai. In order to enter the terminal in Chiang Mai, you go through a security screening. Then you have the full screening for regular security. Arriving here in BKK transit passengers are then herded through another full security check before being allowed into the terminal. And now they have a seperate bag inspection - by hand! - at the gate to enter the gate waiting area. Security is important, but this is flat out ridiculous.

The annoyance with this security is compounded by the fact that I had a bottle of water that I brought from within the secure area at the Chiang Mai airport, which of course I had to get rid off. You know how preoccupied I am with dehydration, so I stood at security and chugged the liter, rather than dump it. And within BKK, there is no access to water other than of the environmentally unfriendly and wallet-raping bottled variety. Add that the concessions here are expensive, and it;s not a great transit experience. Also, I walked for an hour to get to my gate, which remains closed 15 minutes before boarding is to start, with something like 50 seats to be split amongst the 200+ passengers; several hundred empty seats languish just beyond a low glass wall.

The Australien ladies next to me are discussing how many cigarettes they can bring back on their return home. This is going to be good.....

2009-12-14T05:10:00.003Z

East Coast Trip Q1-2010

As some of you may already be aware of, I'm coming to the U.S. during January and February 2010. I will be spending a total of just over 3 weeks in a variety of locations. Currently, I have booked flights into and out of NYC, with definite stops in DC and Florida planned at the moment.
Here's the itinerary:

14 Jan - arrive NYC
15-18 Jan - G-Dub Ultimate alumni weekend, DC
This is where it gets messy: between the 19th and 29th I will be splitting my time between Naples, Florida and anywhere else I am interested in visiting, so I need your help:
Will you be around? Where do you live? Are you saying I should come visit? I'm pretty open to ideas here, and I will be working during normal business hours, so you needn't worry about my visit interfering with your paper making abilities. Please get in touch!
29 Jan-5 Feb - NYC
5 Feb - depart NYC for LON

I look forward to seeing people, let me know if you have any requests from the UK.

2009-12-14T04:37:00.003Z

What I'm Doing

So I'm kinda, sorta back to traveling. Except of course that I do not select the destination, nor the length of time, as it is in fact my job that has sent me this time. That’s right, a business trip. To Phnom Penh, Cambodia and Chiang Mai, Thailand - try not to gulp all that Haterade at once.

The intent of this trip was for me to a) learn more about microfinance in practice, as it is executed in my employer's first investment, and b) check out/begin our due diligence on a potential investment in Thailand. Total time is 5 weeks, I've got 3 days left before I begin my return journey, a 3 day mega-marathon of flights and layovers that includes stops in Bangkok, Phnom Penh, Seoul and London before getting to Switzerland for a family Christmas including the Chinese Anthropologist, who is coming all the way from her research site in rural Xi'an Province (China's coal district). Looking forward to seeing her, and the rest of the family, very much.

2009-12-14T03:57:00.003Z

Three months is a long time not to post

Especially as I've promised the occasional readers of this blog - should you guys still be coming back at all - a number of wrap-ups and summaries of things that were going on in my life. This despite my own disappointment that many of my friends who blog have recently dropped their output to near zero, so procrastinating has become just that much harder - and I feel just a little bit more out of touch with my college friends. As for myself, I'll just stop torturing you and say that those posts most likely are not coming. Done and done.

Recently, I've heard of people actually checking ths thing occasionally to find out what's going on with me. That's great news, because it means: I'm not just unnecessarily occupying space in the cloud; this page is being utilized for its purpose. In light of this I will try to go the Calvinball route and deliver shorter updates as opposed to the long tomes I used to post. (Several weeks of editing what grew to be a monster of a healthcare reform write-up could not generate a good post, so I gave up). On the other hand, don't expect me to start tweeting either though.

2009-09-08T12:11:00.002+01:00

My First Appearance in a Comic Strip

You want to know how I felt in Dublin during my grad course? Something like this:

But because that'd be just boring, I added some resentment, loneliness, and just a dash of self-loathing to complement the incredibly depressing weather.

On another note, xkcd is awesome. Love that stuff. That's where the above image is from.

2009-08-29T01:38:00.002+01:00

Just Now

Like 30 seconds ago.

Me: We may have to decide between Oktoberfest [in Munich] and a soccer game [in Frankfurt].
Ms. P: Oktoberfest is pretty much just drinking and eating, right? You want to do that, you're excited for it?
Me: Have you ever known me not to be excited for eating and drinking?

2009-08-24T12:51:00.003+01:00

Highlight of my Weekend

Just wanted to share this short film, courtesy of Kos (of Thundering Herd), that depicts what may or may not have been the highlight of my weekend. Ms. P thinks that it is possibly the lowlight of my life. Since she also happened to call me approximately 4 minutes after I finished, she warned me to expect a heart attack in the next 20 minutes. The heart attack never materialized, but I'm sure my arteries are hard as steel.

Back story:

Several years ago I read about the ten burgers that you have to try before you die (incidentally, they all will contribute to an early death). One of the burgers mentioned utilized Krispy Kreme doughnuts instead of bread buns, and was subsequently tossed in the deep fryer. Not too surprisingly, this is a Southern delicacy, I think it was Mississippi or Arkansas. While I've never been all that keen on having my burger deep fried, I have since that fateful day dreamt of tasting that meaty, glazed delicacy - bacon and cheese included of course. We were having a few pints after Thundering Herd* practice on Saturday, and I mentioned this life goal to J in the context of meals he may miss as he is moving back to the Marshall Islands, where he grew up. This suggestion caught his fancy, and after a few extra pints, Burger Kreme beat out Boudins BBQ as the evening's choice meal. Kos (Kosovo) joined our endeavor. We even bought Justin a bean burger so his vegetarianism wouldn't stand in the way of his quality of life, although he wasn't there when we got back, and the bean burger had disappeared by the time he returned. The rest is, as they say, history. Or EPIC WIN in this case.

* Thundering Herd is one of the top UK mixed teams, and will be playing at next month's European Club Championships in London. Afraid that they might be short on men, they had initially included me in a group of players that might fill in. As it turns out, they will have enough of their regulars for ECC, but as my season has ended I am now training with them for fun. There are also three of my Burro Electrico team mates that play with Herd, as they are known. Fashion Bonus: Herd wear cow-print shorts.

2009-07-20T12:22:00.003+01:00

Interlude

Just some interesting reading links:

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/07/12/magazine/12whales-t.html?_r=1&pagewanted=1&em

Fabulously interesting, and just one more reason to go to Mexico.

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/07/19/magazine/19healthcare-t.html?scp=6&sq=peter%20singer&st=cse

I think Peter Singer is an ass, but from time to time he makes a good point. I thoroughly enjoyed this article, and I think we need a better and more open discussion of what health care rationing means, and how our current rationing (based on personal wealth) might be reformed under a new healthcare system. And the argument that you can't put a price on human life is a red herring: when our society denies its poor(er) members access to life saving or at the very least life-enhancing medical care, we are simply saying that the price of human life is equal to that persons net assets plus projected future earnings. Sounds like a price has been set, and for millions of uninsured Americans, that price is far lower than it would be using the NICE metrics.

I'm still on pay-as-you-go, because I simply cannot convince myself that the initial purchase costs and crappy contract are worth owning an iPhone for. Maybe if it ran push-notification for incoming Skype calls and Apple didn't keep applying for new patents suggesting another iphone update, possibly by the end of the year. However, this bad boy I can get excited about: free on a contract, much better contract than the iPhone, free European roaming (at least until the end of September), and supporting video conferencing on the phone, this is basically a mobile computing solution, not just a phone. So I'll probably be buying that in the coming days.

2009-07-07T20:35:00.011+01:00

Shocking News about Ernesto Guevara

So you've probably seen that guy before. ....but have you ever heard him speak?

Here's what we know: he was Argentine, from an established porteno family, i.e. a family from Buenos Aires. Spanish speakers will also know that portenos are famous for their distinct accent as well as the many local slang words they use. One of these later became the nickname of the man above, namely "che", a term that's akin to man/dude/bro. Ernesto was given this nickname in Cuba for his frequent use of the word, so clearly distinct from the others around him.

Then, over the past week I've seen the Steven Soderbergh directed Che: Part I and Che: Part II starring Benicio del Toro. These films are neither amazing nor atrocious, I'm glad I saw them but it really didn't add anything to my understanding of the person or politics of Ernesto Guevara. Two aspect were quite commendable though: First, the fact that the films are in Spanish, except where appropriate (although none of the Bolivian indigenous people ever speak indigenous languages, not even amongst themselves - if you've been to Bolivia, you know how ridiculous this oversight is, given that Spanish remains a second language in many of the rural areas even today); Second, the emphasis on Guevara's struggles with his strong asthma, a near-fatal problem on several occasions and source of great anguish to him personally as he felt his body fail him while his will to continue the lucha never waivered*.

However, after watching them and realizing that del Toro won the best actor award at the Cannes Film Festival last year, I was incensed. Why? Well, for one thing the word "che" rarely is used, especially in the second part. Furthermore, although del Toro uses a number of Argentine idioms, he does so without an accent. "Foul!" I cried. "What blatent misrepresentation of a historical character! And whatever happened to the notion that actors ought to be held to standards of authenticity when playing historical figures?" And that is how the idea for this post was born.

However, before I decided to post what I wrote about the issue, I chose to reassure myself that my outrage was justified. He spend good parts of his childhood in the family's summer home in the mountains (because of his asthma), I told myself. Not all of Argentina has a porteno accent. Maybe his mannerisms and idioms were porteno, but his accent wasn't?
First, I turned to fellow study-abroad people. Unanimously, they claimed Guevara as "100% porteno", accent and all. Then I began viewing film and recordings of his public speeches. Lo and behold, I was shocked to find that he didn't have an accent at all! So, I'm glad I didn't make a judgemental ass out of myself by posting false information here. However, all the recordings I found are post-revolutionary, i.e. after he has spend a great deal of time in the Cuban movement, where his national identity was at times a source of conflict, which at least gives rise to the idea that he may have subordinated his accents, much as he did other traits of his identity, to the necessities of the revolutionary cause.

So I'm wondering: does anyone out there knows more about this issue?

* On a related note, while observing street protests in Salta, Argentina, a few years back, I saw a protester hold a sign reading "Ser argentino significa luchar" ["to be Argentine means to struggle"], a wonderful caption for the long-running political struggles btween competing forces within that country: authoritarianism-democracy, conservativism-liberalism, indigenous rights-historical oppression, etc.

The above photograph is taken from the website of the Malta-Cuba Society (http://www.maltacuba.org/links.html)

2009-06-21T15:21:00.008+01:00

You Know You're a Procrastinator When....

it's the first day of summer and you're struck by the feeling that it is time to undertake your spring cleaning.

Granted, until very recently I did not have any shelves or anything like that in my room so that all my things had to be in my closet, in boxes piled all over the room, or on the desk. Predictably, the room was a mess when that was the situation, but thanks to my overpriced Ikea shelves, I should be able to do better now. Or is that actually true? Ultimate tournaments the past two weekends (Tour 1 with Burro Electrico and Windmill Windup with Johnny Chimpo) and the extra days I took for the bike ride to Windmill have left me with a very messy room once again.
Below you can see a "before" shot of my room, taken a few minutes ago. Hopefully by tonight I'll be able to post an "after" picture.
UPDATE: I completed the cleaning of my room almost a week ago by spending all Sunday cleaning furiously. I never took a picture, and now it;s somewhat messy again, although multiple vacuums and mopings have left the place much cleaner. As the Brazilian (my brother in law) commented: "I knew you cleaned because when I walked past your room, it smelled clean. You know, different from the rest of the house."
I'll try and pick up, then take the "after" picture this weekend.

2009-06-01T23:58:00.002+01:00

Yet another month

Yet another month of what, you ask. Well, failure. Complete and utter failure. At least as far as this blog is concerned, since it has yet again turned into more than a full calendar month between posts. And this despite the fact that I have been steadily gathering material for a number of different posts covering such varied topics as work, ultimate, sports generally and the NBA specifically, group vs. individual dynamics, food, travel and politics. I’ll try and post some more in the coming days, particularly as ultimate is concerned: I’ve got some real highlights of the season coming up, and one of them will most likely be combined with some travel, the other with none. Confused? I’ll explain later.
And for those of you still reading not only this boring blog, but this ultra-boring housekeeping post, let me reward you with a great clip I found while aimlessly stumbling from one part of the interwebs to another:
http://ifuxwitit.blogspot.com/2009/05/watch-this-1981-2020-expose-on-rap.html

2009-04-22T17:07:00.003+01:00

End of a (very tall) Era

It's a little bit like looking at a dead deer on the road, isn't it? For those of you who haven't heard the news yet, last night Dikembe Mutombo messed up his knee. Well into his forties at this point, the injury ends his career as he admitted after the game. For anyone in their mid twenties who grew up watching NBA ball, this means an end of an era, as one of the more iconic figures of the past 20 years is lost.

But honestly, I just wanted to post about Mutombo and have been looking for a reason to do so for quite some time (almost did a story on his philanthropic work some time back, but decided against it - but who knowns, maybe in the future). The reason: one of the dopest kicks of all times, the Adidas Dikembe Mutombo sneaker. This was one of the first pairs of basketball sneakers I owned for the purpose of playing ball (I was 9 when they were released), and even after they were replaced on the court I wore them daily until my mother forcibly took them away - by then, they were thoroughly destroyed.
This sneaker is cool for a number of reasons, but most importantly, its coloring and the materials used on the top are all a nod to Mutombo's heritage and youth in his native Congo (or Zaire, as it was known then). It was also really, really, really, warm and padded from what I remember and therfore incredibly comfortable, and I used them as winter boots for a year. Anyway, if you ever see a size 12 of these bad boys for sale or Adidas decides to re-issue them, please think of me and hook it up. Here the bad boys are in living color, so you know I'm telling the truth:

2009-03-30T00:24:00.004+01:00

I'll Miss You, Pete

On Saturday the 28th of March, 2009, g-dub teammate and fellow Londonite Peter Hoffman passed away after battling cancer. I know that within the g-dub family, his loss will be felt tremendously.
However, even beyond that tight-knit group, Pete's positive attitude, kindness, and charisma will be remembered by those who met him. Via a couple corners, I know several former ASL students who knew Pete years ago. Mentioning his struggle to them and seeing their reactions, it is clear that the way he lived his life touched those around him even if they did not know him well. He was a young man with a bright future cut short before his promise could mature to fruition.
At this year's Alumni Weekend, we made a video in which people recounted some of their favorite stories with or about "Big Pete"; however, I cannot think of a single event that really captures the complexity of who he was. But looking at the picture above gives a good idea of him and one of his most memorable characteristics - his smile.
Those of you who have spoken to me about my move know that one of the things I was really looking forward to in London was the opportunity to spend more time with Pete. Sadly, this is something we all will now have to do without. All we can do now is live life to the fullest, as Pete did.

2008-08-14T11:14:00.002+01:00

Back on the bike

I rode the 60 miles from our flat in London to Cambridge in under 4 hours yesterday. I was quite happy with that, and really noticed a tremendous difference between traveling with my full kit, as I had done all summer, and just a small overnight bag. The reduced weight and wind resistance made the ride through hilly countryside on small, winding roads far easier than I had expected.
Now I've been seeing the various colleges here in town, as well as dining at high table with my relatives, who are here this week. Also pissing off my sister's boyfriend, as we're interfering with his thesis writing, or so he says.
OK, I know this is a miserable post, but at least I tried. I'll try and think of something more interesting to post on in the next few days.

2008-07-31T15:59:00.005+01:00

Today is a Good Day

..... at least as far as internet links are concerned. While the past weeks have supplied the "slouvaki made me do it" (which included an ouzo shout-out, holla) among other treasures, today's first - and greatest - find was the "best movie trailer" with Baron Davis and Steve Nash, which you can find here (Both links via TrueHoop). Let's be honest - this is hilarious. It also manages to fulfill the comedy stereotype that both Canadian and black dudes are funny. I'm now looking to the likes of Marko Jaric and Gregg Ostertag to make a move and smash that prejudice, but I'm not holding my breath.
Next comes this piece, courtesy of Snausages, that illustrates exactly why Ludacris is the best mainstream rapper: funny and poignant, his lyrics also convey a general feeling. Don't believe me? Try these lines:
Yeah I said it 'cause/
Bush is mentally handicapped/
Ball up all of his speeches/
And just throw them like candy wrap/
'cause what you talkin'/
I hear nothing even relevant/
and you the worst of all 43 Presidents
And that definitely leaves me looking forward to the new album, too. Also in music news, Optik Records is disbanding and the new Prinz Pi will have major label distribution - I'll vote favorably on both counts despite some concerns. (via hiphop.de and mzee.com)
The newest Uniwatch features this fantastic photo. It also reminds us that there was a time when the Pirates didn't just give away their talent for free, and actually aspired to - and succeeded in - winning games.
Then there is this article, which is one more example of Bush's blah blah but inactive attitude to human rights (remember when he made Darfur his thing?) but also shows that even those we consider too barbaric to be part of society learn: After Rwanda and Srebrenica, you better believe these fighters know what they're doing: By testing the international response to killing UN peacekeepers, they can now see nothing will be done against them regardless of their actions. As in the aforementioned examples, I believe this is a prelude a new and larger campaign of ethnic cleansing and/or genocide. I hope I'm wrong, but history suggests the opposite.
And finally, a piece that illustrates how the corporatization of our society negatively affects long term policy and undermines ethics in favor of profit. Another good example is the IOC, now backing down from any last claims on journalistic freedom and human rights originally conceded by China in order to win the 2008 games.

That's all for now, just thought I'd leave a short one to remember me by.

2008-07-23T17:52:00.001+01:00

So many topics….

….so little time, and even less internet. First order of business: changed the picture on the blog, thought this was appropriate. Obviously, it is appropriate because I’m traveling by bike. Also, it is shot by the Deutsches Eck in Koblenz, where the Mosel runs into the Rhein – for the oenophiles out there, this is to you what the Bombardero is to Maradona worshipers, except more German. And if you don’t know what an oenophile is, well that’s like saying ….saying…saying….fool, you just ignant! Back to what I was actually talking about, Deutsches Eck literally means “German corner” which really can’t be more than a glorified and amplified version of Willis’ corner – a visual guide, if you will?
Next order of business: The Karadzic arrest. This is fantastic news, very glad to hear it. And while we’re talking about international warrants from the Hague – beautiful and hospitable city, but a different blog post – I just want to laud the ICC for bringing charges against Omar……, the leader of Sudan. I know there’s a lot of criticism because haters are saying it could endanger the peace in Darfur, but really – what peace are they talking about? And indictments against civil war leaders in Uganda and more analogously in Sierra Leone (against then-President Robert Taylor) actually sped along conflict resolution and helped put both countries back on the path to stability and, inshalla, prosperity. And have you noticed who most those haters criticizing the indictment are? Let’s see… we have Mugabe in Zimbabwe, the Chinese government, the Russian government, Ghaddafi, Mubarak in Egypt – all democratic leaders whose human rights and rule-of-law records are beyond reproach. It baffles me what they could possibly be objecting to, they could never end up in that kind of a situation….
Finally, I’ll turn my attention to films. I’ve been “in” the cinema twice in the last two nights and saw two somewhat morbid but very good and touching films. Yesterday I saw a German-Japanese that carries the title “Kirschlblueten / Hanami.” Those are the German and Japanese words for cherry blossoms, respectively. At least I think that’s what hanami means, but I won’t know for certain until I ask Mrs. Liss, one of many questions I plan to ask her after this film. Also, one of the characters in the film claims that homelessness in Japan is a choice, which seems absurd: is this a cultural prejudice against society’s weakest members, or is the social safety net actually that strong?
The reason I put the in in quotation marks above is that last night, my parents and I went to Kino am See (“cinema at the lake”) here in Zurich, which is an open-air cinema that is temporarily installed during the summer, so weren’t technically in the cinema at all. Beyond the screen, which is folded upwards during the performance from its normal horizontal position on the lake, the area includes outdoor restaurants and bars by some of the best caterers and restaurants in Zurich. Although performances don’t begin until after 10 pm at this time of year, the gates open at 6.30 and the general admission means that by the time we arrived at 6.45, most of the seats had already been reserved with place cards, sweatshirts, blankets, bags, etc. However, you can leave again and return later for the performance, although we chose to eat there, overlooking the lake and watching the sunset, which colored the cumulus clouds above the distant peaks of the high alps (3000+ meters) in brilliant hues of yellow, orange, lilac and purple. During the performance itself the sky was clear, so that you could not only see lights shining around the lake and the romantically lit commercial ferries on the lake (part of the public transportation system, like trams and subways), but a beautiful star-studded sky above. I know other cities have outdoor films in the summer (London’s Cinema on the Green, DC’s Cinema on the Mall, whatever it’s called in NYC) but I doubt that the backdrop is as stunning, or that the organization is as relaxed yet perfectly executed as in Zurich. The movie we watched was “The Bucket List”, which like “Kirschblueten” is about fulfilling one’s lifelong dreams before passing away, both covering a time span of about 6 months, both witty and touching in their dialogue and action.
That’s all for now.

2008-07-21T16:50:00.005+01:00

A New Side to an Old Debate

As most of you probably know, I am strictly pro gun control. Why this is so, or at least two of the principal reasons I feel the second amendment of the US does not cover modern firearm possession, is that the right to “bear arms” at the time the Constitution was written had vastly different implications from modern firearm possession in two senses:

1. There were no (common) multi-round weapons that could be carried by individuals at the time of American independence. The revolver – which featured six shots between reloads – was not invented until the 1820/30s, and represented a tremendous leap forward in killing power over the heretofore common musket. Indeed, the musket required a fairly time consuming reload, and although I don’t know the exact amount of time, I believe even the best trained soldier could fire only about one round per minute. Today’s fully automated weapons can fire several rounds per second, and even simple firearms, such as a .22 hunting rifle, have multi-round clips, which means a deranged or angry person can harm – or kill – far more individuals with comparative ease.

While the framers of the Constitution believed that individual ownership of “arms” would help establish a “well-regulated militia” this was in part because farmers who were accustomed to using muskets could reload far more quickly than those who were not. In pitched battles where the soldiers literally stood across from each other on an open field, this made a tremendous difference. Today’s weapons, especially the AK-47 and its derivatives, no longer feature such a great difference, and moreover are easy enough that even children can easily be trained to use them to great efficacy.

2. Individual ownership of arms is often justified as a deterrent to government intrusion, or rather, as an individual’s last resort in the face of government assault. While this may have been true when it was musket versus musket, I believe the government-citizen power imbalance is far more pronounced today: our government not only has the ability to gather information from our genetics to financial information to personal conversations, but is know to have done so (the legality isn’t really of importance here, but the fact that they did so illegally and got away with it illustrates this point further). Moreover, satellite surveillance complements CCTV in our cities, our “security” apparati are manifold and technologies like GPS allow us to be identified by location at any location from anywhere in the world (hello OnStar) and attacked with massive remote weapons, from unmanned flying vehicles (drones) to ballistic missiles: we realistically do not have the power to escape government intrusion and assault…. at least not till we all have our personal missile defense system in the back yard. Thus, as far as I can tell, individual gun ownership does not actually protect us from the government in any way, it simply represents a threat to the other humans who share our living space, be it family, friends, neighbors, classmates, colleagues, or even just people from the same town or urban area (we needn’t know them personally).

If you are still reading this – which would be pleasant surprise, because I didn’t mean to go into such detail above – you are probably saying to yourself: “none of this is new, we’ve heard it all from you before, how does this relate to the title of this blog post?” Well, the answer is that the first day of my trip included an experience that gave me a new perspective on the issue of gun control. Well, not so much a new perspective as an experience that now allows me to empathize with those who believe gun control represents an overreaction by people and government to the irresponsible use of firearms by a small group. Here is what happened:

Keith (of Jabba the Huck, also headed to Windmill) and I decided to take the ferry from the UK to the Netherlands and then ride our bikes from Hoek van Holland (Hook of Holland) to the tournament site in Amsterdam. Upon arriving at the English port of Harwich and checking in for the ferry, my camping knife was confiscated as an illegal weapon. Why? Because it is a locking blade, which are illegal in the UK (remember that I was leaving the country!). Why are locking blades illegal, even though they represent a far safer knife for people who are camping because they won’t snap closed on your fingers? Because kids also use them for stabbing! Now, I could understand if I was walking through the center of London, carrying a knife, that this might be a problem. However, I was on a fully loaded touring bike, with tent, cooking equipment, etc. clearly visible, which makes it abundantly clear that I am using the knife for it’s intended purpose of food preparation and camping generally and not to kill people, a fact the customs agent even conceded. Moreover, the many restrictions on hunting knives in the UK are not accompanied by restrictions on kitchen knives: thus it is no surprise that the day before I left the UK, I came across a documentary that illustrated how kids are buying large kitchen knives (12") and using them for stabbings. Moreover, as these knives are extremely cheap - an 8" knife costs as little as 4 or 5 pounds - they are considered disposable by criminals. So, in reality we see that knife control on hunting and other specialty knives fails to achieve its intended aim when a cheaper, equally lethal alternative is easily available. This is particularly confusing to me as kitchen knives clearly have a fixed blade over 4 inches, thus violating both restrictions for hunting knives.

So, have I changed my opinion on gun control? The answer is no. Do I believe these restrictions on hunting and specialty knives should be reduced in the UK? Yes. How do I justify such apparently contradictory opinions? For me, there needs to be a balance between reasonable use and the danger to others around us: Can you explain to me an everyday situation that justifies having a firearm in the house? Especially an everyday situation that requires a loaded multi-shot weapon? I can't think of one. On the other hand, a kitchen knife is integral to a functioning household, and it is a short-range weapon when abused - no sniper, no school rampage. And this doesn't exclude the restriction of knife purchases: Why not make the purchase of all knives conditional on age, as few 14-year olds really need these knives for cooking, or if they do, their parents should be willing to purchase it for them. Moreover, by allowing for the responsible use of specialty knives in their proper context, we introduce our children into the difference between correct and incorrect use, instead of decrying a whole class of tools as inherently dangerous.

2008-07-12T22:21:00.002+01:00

Tomorrow: German Ultimate.... "Four Little Piggies"

Just thought I'd let all of you out there know I'll be playing a tournament in Marburg, Hessen, tomorrow. That marks the first time I'll be playing in Germany. A friend of mine who started playing at a German university and now plays in Frankfurt invited me to play.

It's a small 4-on-4 tournament, and I have to get up very very early to take the train there (about an hour from Frankfurt main station) but I'm psyched.

Here's the link. not much subbing....

2008-07-09T15:22:00.005+01:00

Windmill Windup Was Wonderful

Part II

So this post is about the actual ultimate that was played in Amsterdam, as well as the team. First off, I'd like to say that the level of competition - at least in the upper part of the standings - was quite good. This was to be both good and bad for our team, "Pookas."

For starters, it should be understood that this was basically a pick up team. Following UK nationals, Ben and I were in House 40 having a beer when both of us expressed dismay at having played our last tournament of the year. We also both expressed interest in Amsterdam based on what we'd hear of the tournament. In the next 5 minutes, we established a basic core of 5 or 6 player - Rickard being the first - and then filled out the roster via group emails within Ireland. Unfortunately the Ireland captain forbade the national players to participate, even though he played with us, so mainly we had people who no longer are playing for Ireland, are taking a year off from playing for Ireland, or are new up-and-comers. Plus me and Freshman Rob, who hasn't been a freshman in years but still brings that same cRAzY from back in the day when he steps on the pitch.
The level on our team was quite high, although we had trouble converting throughout the weekend. Contributing to this was the fact that we were an Irish team - and Irish teams do Irish things at night, and then they play Irish ultimate in the first game of the day a.k.a. they "represent" at the social events, and then have trouble with hangovers/tiredness in the first game. I think this was epitomized by the fact that D-Man couldn't play at all by the third day of games, sitting on the sideline and mumbling with a cooky crooked smile on his face. The greater issue was that we still had to establish a group dynamic, that we all play different systems, and thus our dump was kind of sketchy, leading to easy turnovers and unnecessary scores by the opponents.
Overall, however, we played some good ultimate and some bad, but mainly the former. We even pushed our way up into the top 8 for a minute there beore we were paired against the eventual winners of the tournament, whom we had to face for the first game of day 2. As it turned out, it was the German national team (DNT) playing under an assumed name (Inside Rakete), who were using this as a tune-up for Worlds in Vancouver. Unlike us, they arrived at the pitch well ahead of time and warmed up properly. Our groggyness (I believe I started the game with an untied cleat because we couldn't get enough people on the line) was noticable as they quickly dismembered us, resulting in the embarassing final score of 15-2. However, they handily won the final 15-6 and had a bunch of bagels throughout the weekend, so I guess we actually did respectibly against them.
For me presonally it was nice to play DNT so I could see where the bar is set if I want to make a push and try to play internationally. Basically, they have one amazing, tiny little Asian-German handler (Hans) surounded by a bunch of guys who look like me: all over six feet, slim, athletic. Unlike me they are in amazing shape, jump through the roof, have clearly sniffed an interval training in the past few months and they never stop running, just keep tearing the D down cut after cut. A bunch of them also have long, curly hair, which means I should either kidnap a player and assume his identity or get myself in shape if I want to play DNT. The first option sounds soooooo much easier....
But back to whatever I was talking about...... yes, team Pookas. A Pookas is an Irish ghost/spirit that most often appears in the form of a horse, and sometimes can spit fire from its nostrils. Unsurprisingly, this makes for a popular motíf in an ultimate scene where spirit is still valued above success (refreshing after playing in the US, but imagine the naíveté..... by thé wáy, do ýoú líke thése? Í dú, théý máke me féel so sophísticáted). As a whole, the team dynamic and tournament in general is fittingly described as "good craic" (pronounced "good crack"): We began shaping our team identity in the very first game, against the French masters team, when the sideline yelled following encouragement as a disc got hung up in the wind: "Get high!" Our success over the weekend eventually led to the modified call "Stay high!" which of course also carries a graffiti reference, fitting for a city as artistically innovative and progressive as the man himself. Basically, we went to go play a fun tournament without too many expectations for success, although we did all realize that we could make waves if we tried hard enough. When things went poorly, we laughed, when they went well, we celebrated. It was like playing TSGH before we took ourselves too seriously at Sectionals and imploded, and it was thoroughly enjoyable.

I'll stop here and if you have any further need for information, we can clarify this in the comments section. All of the above (and the other Windmill post) have already led to excited email exchanges about next year's Windmill, for which I want to put together a top-flight team comprised of people from the US, Ireland, and Germany who can ball for realzzzzz. Besides Ben, we already have at least one Irish national player lined up (Perfect Dave has given me a definite yes), and I'm confident I can get a few more (Cean, Tommy, Rickard), as well as the Eintracht Frankfurt captain. Add to that a few DC guys like Cracky, BiggieShorty, das Shelf, the Glove, Mr. Maki, Q.P. Live, Kazan, and you see where the team could go....... better reserve your spot early!

2008-07-07T22:00:00.003+01:00

Windmill Windup Was Wonderful

Part I

OK, so for the first of the more eurocentric blog posts, I've decided to write about a topic that most my (American) readers understand as well or better than myself: the sport of ultimate frisbee. Particularly, I'll write about Windmill Windup 2008.

Windmill Windup is one of Europe's premier tournaments, for many different reasons:

The organization was amazing. We'll begin with a look inside the team bags: Inside, a large number of goodies could be found, as well as the tournament manual, a useful tool to have as it included information not only on game times and locations, but on the city itself, the night activities at the tournament, food options, bicycle rental (it's Holland, after all, and they ride their bikes more than Kobe rides his teammates), etc. One of the goodies was a tournament disc..... for each player. Being as that the design is sweet - the profile of an Asian elephant with a bomb strapped to the back - and available in a bunch of colors, that was a kind keepsake. Moreover, the organizers had purchased a number of pre-rolled joints for each team, a gift that was supplemented by...... a Windmill! Now, if you don't know what a Windmill is, please picture a traditional four-bladed windmill; next, replace each of the blades with a joint, all of which are lit simultaneously and must be rotated (like a windmill) while smoking so they burn evenly. Those things are tough to make, and it turned out ours didn't work very well when the team fired it up during the final (we weren't playing). However, as it turned out the most impressive aspect was that one guy had made all of them, and he was given a well-deserved special tournament shoutout the night before. If you consider there were close to 50 teams, each team got one, meaning he rolled 4 joints for every team, plus 50 connectors, not to mention rolling filters, prepping everything - rumor has it he took time off work in Copenhagen, flew down a week ahead of time and got it done. The man is a champ, and if you ever meet a lookalike of Kep's friend Utah with blond hair, make sure you congratulate him on a job well done. And for you professional recruiters out there, the Cuban cigar factories should hire this guy. It still boggles my mind that one person did all of that...

The tournament had also moved from its traditional spot, and despite this the facilities were impressive: massive amounts of fields, both natural and artificial, with nearby showers and camping on-site, as well as a huge Oktoberfest-tent that could fit nearly all the players (1000+) for the nightly parties made up the main site. Inside this tent til whatever time I went to bed (3? 4? 5? No one knew what time things had ended the night before) you could also purchase more sophisticated foods during the day, and I don't believe their beer tap ever was turned off, as it seemed to run whenever I walked into the tent, from breakfast unThere also were satellite fields, for which there were team buses, where they would make sure to find the team, escort it to the bus, get all the players on, and get them to the fields for a punctual game. Then there was free breakfast every day, with enough extra to make lunch out of, meaning big food savings (Dutch food is rather expensive, and not very good - they can't even get a damn döner/shwarma right) and minimal complication, and one of the evenings we got a huge free meal of something really really delicious, although I can't remember what it was, although I do believe I indulged in at least one vegetarian Korma, and a good 4 or 5 brownies, which were among the best ever made*. This food was prepared in a huge converted 1960s bus, made from organic and local produce, and they had been cooking since I woke up around 9 in the morning. However, my frequent return trips for multiple servings left me feeling a bit like House.

Moreover, the organizers had EM (European Championship) games on in one of the buildings - actually, a bar next to the fields - and projected the Holland match onto the tent roof, and they had a steel drum band play one of the night-time parties. During the day time there was music on almost all pitches, all pitches were lined and had cones, and the tournament board featured all kinds of information on various games. This last point was particulalry important, as Windmill uses the Swiss draw format: The basic idea is that instead of pools, teams play each other based on previous performance during the tournament, with each team receiveing points for each game (based on score differential), and then playing another team with an equal (or nearly equal) point total. The details are here, but the idea is to create as many close games as possible, where every game is played to 15 without a time cap. Effectively, you don't know what team you will be playing next until about 15 minutes before the match, which is interesting psychologically, as there is no game du jour and every point counts, whether you are winning or losing. I certainly enjoyed these games.

Free massage and physiotherapy (which I forgot to take advantage of! What an idiot!)

Evenings also included what is supposedly the largest game of MingleMingle in the world (it was awesome watching, but next year I'll participate) and some other foolish games. All in all, one of the best tournaments I've ever played in, surpassing Mars and at least on par with Poultry Days, although I would choose Windmill everytime because of the location, international diversity, unique format, and amazing spirit, all of which combine to make it a more fun tournament, in my opinion.

As this post is becoming rather long, and I need to go out to the garden to pick fresh berries for Inge (my aunt) and my desserts, I will end it here and continue with the description of our team and the actual play in a second post, which hopefully will follow in the next days. I'll also invite my teammates to comment on the posts once they're finished.

*The hard day of ultimate may have influenced my perceiption here. I'm pretty sure you could serve ultimate players cat food at the end of the day, and they'd be happy. But this food really was amaying, and if I remember correctly the company's profits go to a charitable cause, plus the cooks were really nice, and it's always great to have your food handed to you by a smiling person.

2008-07-05T11:55:00.002+01:00

Holy Smokes!

It' been a long time since I posted. Sorry about that, let's just say the past months have been busy and stressful (exams, resit exams), disappointing (exams), busy again (leaving Dublin, visiting the US), and finally, busy and relaxing (Netherlands/bike tour).

In lieu of any other information I will post a preliminary biking schedule here so all of you out there have an idea of what I may be doing the next few weeks:

Today :: Düsseldorf
Sunday (and possibly Monday) :: Solingen
8 July :: Cologne
9/10 :: Cologne to Mainz by bike
10/11 :: Mainz
12-16 :: Frankfurt area (instead of Splash!)
16 :: train from FFM to Zürich
16 - 20 :: Zürich
21 .... :: ?

Ideas? Going to be around/naerby? Let me know!

2008-03-31T14:55:00.002+01:00

Irish Inter-Varsity Champions

We went out and won the national collegiate championship yesterday. Good stuff. Let a lay-out Callahan slip through my fingers, much to my disappointment. At least I got the D. I got a medal, so my success, measured in medals, at Irish tournaments has been quite good so far: 2 played, 2 medals in the closet. Makes me feel like I'm back in little league or something, because we always used to get medals there. I'll send more info when I'm not in exam week and haven't just walked out of another exam without answering the majority of questions...

2008-03-28T19:15:00.007Z

Things I Learned Last Weekend

I went to London last weekend for my mother's birthday, which also was Easter Sunday. In addition, I hadn't left Dublin this semester except for the trip to Hull for the UMON (UK Mixed Outdoor Nationals*), despite my hopes of doing so. I also stayed in London on Monday night to check out a CD release party of the Mystery Jets, which certainly didn't seem like a release party.

[Disclosure: I would not have gone to the release if not for the fact that my sister and almost everyone I know in London was going, since they all went to high school with the band's bassist. So for me it was more of a social event than a musical one.]

Here are a few things I learned over the weekend:

- Camden is gentrified, but they still have street dealers
- I have better hair than any member of the Mystery Jets. I haven't cut or trimmed my hair since October.
- My sister has 400 condoms, 120 rape whistles, and 30 things of pepper spray in her closet. They must really like her in Oxford
- Never having been in school in London, I can't study very well at home.
- I'm never going back to The End. What's the point of paying in to go to a concert if the sound is horrible?
- Ryanair is crap, never believe a word they say.
- Due to the previous bullet point, I learned I am physically fit enough to sprint the entire length of both terminals at Gatwick while carrying a filled bike box. Or desperate enough**.
- My sister described herself as a "pusher" of pepper spray: she takes a few cans to every party to sell because people never think ahead; she also sells more to guys than to girls.
- I had forgotten how good it feels to have something hard under my ass. In case you are thinking what I think you might be thinking, let me assure you that's not what I meant. I'm talking about exchanging my crappy, broken suspension-bicycle for my fixed gear.

OK, I'm out. I've got exams starting Monday morning, wish me luck. Or even better, pray for me - that might be the only thing that can still help me.

*I want to eventually write something about UMON, since it was a pretty interesting affair, and very different from any analogous tournament in the US (where I'm guessing most of the readers of this blog have experienced flatball).

**That's another topic worthy of a post. Rest assured that an unbiased and informative debate on the pros and cons of Ryanair will follow here at some point. Now replace unbiased and informative with the words irate and bitter. Then the replace debate with rant.

2008-01-22T16:49:00.000Z

Dark and tasty

At some point in November, Kep came to visit me, which was an excellent choice on his part, because we both had fun during his stay. And in case you're wondering, the title does not refer to Kep, because that would be really weird and kind of queer; see below for details...The initial plan was to go and do something cultural every day, but of course that plan went to pieces after his first evening here, which also was the first night we went out, being a Friday night and all.

The night had begun with take-away Indian food that was extremely tasty, after which we headed out so we could explore the legendary night life. Unfortunately, I am a poor guide in that respect as about the only place I could give a reasonable tour of is the library. However, we started out by going through Temple Bar, the central nightlife district of Dublin, and grabbing a couple Guinness in a small pub. Next stop was a place called Cafe En Seine, named after the French river that runs through Paris. The Irish however, cannot pronounce that name, so it comes out as "Cafe Insane," and it's a reasonably known nightlife spot I was introduced to by my god father. The place has incredible decor though, and that's why I actually took Keo there, for what I expected to be one drink, but we ended up there for most the night. Kep was quite popular with the Irish and foreign ladies, and eventually I lost him because he'd been dragged to nearby bar by a bunch of Spanish women, and we spent the rest of the night alternating between the two localities.
Saturday we nursed our hangovers (I also went to the library, I think) until evening time when we had a couple cans at my flat and hung with my comic flat mate, Barry. Upon heading out, Barry recommended a place called Hogan's, which since has become my favorite weekend night spot. There, we chilled out the evening grooving to the mellow old school hip hop sounds the resident DJ infuses with soul, funk and Motown samples, as well as the occasional guitar riff. A less eventful, but more relaxing night that was equally enjoyed.

Sunday we finally got out and did our cultural event: The Guinness Factory tour! (Funny how our cultural event also included alcohol. Find the link here.) Unfortunately, the tour doesn't actually allow you to see where the beer - sorry stout - is brewed, but you do learn a fair amount about brewing in general and the Guinness brand in particular. You also got to try things like roasted barley, an important ingredient in stout and what gives it the distinctive coloring. In fact, the barley roasting could be smelled from my flat the day before we went on the tour, as the wind often carries the smell from the St. James brewery into the city centre. It was always a pleasure to get outside and on my bike in the morning to be greeted by the sweet and wholesome smell of this process, a gentle - and necessary - reminder that there is more to life in Dublin than just endless mind-numbing, painful, depression-inducing study. There also is Guinness (and someday I hope to take advantage of that).That's a lot or barley!

The coolest part of the tour is probably the building itself: they have converted one of the old storehouses for the grain, which sits atop the hill of the brewery and overlooks the city, into the museum, so there is a huge atrium, which is probably about 14 stories high, with various exhibition halls going off it. While we were there, there also was a special temporary exhibition on John Gilroy, the guy who created all the iconic Guinness ads with the animals and so forth, which was pretty cool. In fact, the St. James' Brewery, where Guinness is still brewed today originally didn't belong to Arthur Guinness. Instead, he leased the land for the brewery for a couple hundred pounds - and 7000 years. Now considered the most astute real estate deal in the history of the British Isles, this means that Guinness now sits on some of the most valuable land in Europe, at the heart of one of Europe's most expensive real estate markets. In fact, the company is thinking of moving to a different location and selling the land, which is valued above a billion Euros! They had an original copy of the lease recessed in the ground of the entry hall, which you can see to the left.

One thing I didn't realize about the Guinness drought we drink today is that that particular beverage wasn't created - or at least, released onto the public - until 1959. Previously, there had been various forms of Guinness, predominantly bottled for export, such as "Foreign Extra" and "Extra Stout." Sometimes you can still ind these in pubs here in Dublin, although it is rather rare. Moreover, Guinness runs a continuous Brewhouse Series of slightly altered brews - currently the "Northhouse," of which we received a sample - and also some crazy new stuff in the works like Guinness Red (my pub in London actually turned down an offer as a sampling point for that new one last year, and I have yet to try it).
The final part of the tour is a complimentary pint of Guinness on top of the factory in a round glass bar, with views over all of Dublin.
Bottoms up! Too bad we didn't have the views.

Unfortunately for us, it was both dark and raining, so we couldn't see anything. But on the upside, some English girls next to us didn't want their pints, so we had a couple pints each. We then purchased some Guinnes Foreign Extra bottles - at a whoping 9% alcohol - for our walk back into town. At that point Kep and I split ways, as I had to go to the library to write a paper critique avec buzz while he found himself a sports bar and watched the NFL.

Every few hours Kep would call me, and each time he would sound a little more drunk, until eventually he called in order to tell me that he had a bunch of girls and I should join them. I finally left the library at 1.30 in the morning and went to find Kep, who immediately infused me with a Vodka Red Bull. Unfortunately, I think the bartender had cut him off at this point, so I drank a pure Red Bull, which meant that I ended up sleeping quite poorly. that was the first time I was happy there there is a closing hour to the nightlife here, because if there weren't, I don't think God himself could have moved Kep out of the bar. Then he and the girls unsuccessfully attempted to convince me to join them at the girls' hotel, and I was glad to see Kep a few hours later, still in one piece after he returned to m.y place after having been at theirs. I should add that most of them were quite attractive, despite their North English accents.

2008-01-15T15:07:00.000Z

Eye of the Storm

Where have I been, where have I been, you ask yourself in vain as you pick up the broken pieces of your once promising life and academic career.....

As for myself, I have been engulfed in a storm the size of which is hard to imagine. Think of the movie The Day After Tomorrow and that huge storm - and we all know how awesome that movie was, what with its predictable story lines and marvelously lousy acting - well, I just passed through the eye of that storm (the storm total seemed to cover the entire northern hemisphere). Except where the storm in the movie is a snowstorm, mine is a shitstorm. This was driven home to me Tuesday when I entered the fecal smelling graduate reading room, where apparently the toilets that haven't been renovated since 1937 and have plywood floors had flooded the basement of the building. True shitstorm.

Anyway, since I last posted here, I had a ton of projects due before the end of the term on December 14. I had hoped to relax at that point, but it turns out the end of the term is not actually the end of our work, since I had to hand things in the following week, so I stuck around Dublin and completed the work, and ended up moving houses again the day before i left for London - stress stress stress. Then I went to London for my break .... no, wait, I didn't! Because our course, in the words of the head of our department, "is about breaking your balls" so we have our ridiculously long and difficult exams after the "vacation" that is not a vacation.

To add to the stress of these exams, my youngest sister decided to get married over this winter break. So I'm now coming to you live and direct and with a brother in law. Anyway, the stress of the exams really made it hard to enjoy the wedding and all the visitors that came to town - most of my family, and the lady friend (for whom we still need a good blog-alias, please feel free to post suggestions) - stress stress stress and more stress. But at the end of the day it all went off well.

Then came the exams themselves, which were last week- stress stress stress stress. 3 classes - 3 exams - each 3 hours long. 3 unmitigated disasters, in which I managed to stress myself out and get so nervous I couldn't even do the simplest of tasks, and failed to answer a single question correctly on any of the three exams. This despite the fact that we had been given some of the questions beforehand. In retrospect, the days and nights I put in in the library weren't nearly enough, nor do I feel I would have done any better had I spent more time. When you can't even answer the questions that you knew beforehand would be on the test.... it says a lot about you.

The eye of the shitstorm was this past weekend. After the final exam, we went out for drinks, then home for a belated birthday dinner, followed by more going out at Hogan's and the excellent late-night DJ there, not to mention Jacobo the Italian Principella's dance performance, an experience I cannot even begin to describe. Let me just say it was good enough for me to commit to some kind of concert this weekend, type of music unknown, in hopes of seeing that again. It was awesome.
The following morning, I was woken by some kind of loud noise, which turned out to be my alarm. I had set the alarm because I had an 11 am flight to Germany with one of my classmates from the course in Dublin, which was going to be my little mini-vacation. I was psyched for this trip because i hadn't been to Frankfurt for 2 years. 90 minutes later, I was once again awoken by some kind of loud noise, again coming from my phone, but this time it was actually ringing. Since I was too gone to understand the person on the other end of the line, I asked him to repeat everything slowly. It turned out to be Ollie, who had forgotten his passport for the flight, and wanted to know if I was at the airport yet. I asked him what time it was, and freaked out when he told me 9.30. Somehow, both of us still managed to catch the flight.
By that night we were in Frankfurt, and after chilling with my cousin for a bit, I headed out towards the Taunus, where I grew up. First I missed the train, so I spent 30 minutes at the main train station (Hbf). I always forget how much English is spoken in Frankfurt, it's really incredible. Even the doener (shwarma/kebab) salesman earlier that day switched to English when he realized Ollie couldn't speak German - and the dude's English was better than his German. I then picked up Moritz, whom I hadn't seen in 5 or 6 years, on the platform at FFM West by yelling for him to jump on the train, and we began reminiscing and catching up as we headed out to Bad Soden to meet Steph, who met us at the station. We decided to skip food (I was still pretty full from the doener) we headed over to my hometown Oberursel and went to Chris' house. This entire evening was a huge throwback to when I still lived in Oberursel. Not only is Chris' room still the same, but we just talked about all the old people, caught up on each other's travels and looked at pictures, both new and old. Obviously, Lena's wedding was the really big story. But really, it was all like back in the day: Chris and his room, Mo had stuff from his father's stash, and we just kicked it real laid back.
We had arrived around 10 pm, and aside from a walk out to a field know as the Stierstaedter Heide up the road, just been talking when I asked what time it was. It turned out to be 3.30 in the morning, meaning I couldn't get back into Frankfurt, and despite constantly saying "we should go home" we weren't out the door for almost another hour. Overall, it was one of the most pleasant evenings I've had in a very, very long time, despite the fact we still had to walk Steph's dog when we got home after 5.
The next day included oversleeping. Instead of being up at 10 or 11, it wasn't until 12.30 that I awoke, and only with help. After a nice breakfast, we went to Stuff and Axel's place in Frankfurt for a few hours, then back to Oberursel to have tea with my relatives. Of course I was a) late and b) baked from Stuff's homegrown, so that was somewhat awkward, but nonetheless nice. Then one of my cousins and I went to a theater performance, and I headed back to Stuff's since it happened to be in the same neighborhood as the theater. After several more hours, a paper and doener run, and the introduction to a computer program that allows you to design ultimate plays, I headed for my cousin's to crash. (I think I'll have to do a separate post on this program, and of course Bert will be addicted immediately.)
The next morning I rose early enough to catch the 7 am bus from the city center to Hahn airport, 2 hours away. Shockingly, Olli made it also, and by midday we were back on Irish soil. Much to my disappointment, i may add.

That was my "eye of the storm" as now the fury of the second semester is upon me.

Basically, I now have a 6 week sleep deficit that I'll have to try and make up somehow, because the term can't continue how it began, with me sleeping through my 4 pm lecture Monday, and a constant threat for zzzzzs during class Tuesday. Moreover, I now have to do more than just the standard workload, as I need to begin preparing to re-sit the exams, provided they even permit me to do so. Oh, and I've been sick since Thursday, something I've seen coming for weeks, and finally my body gave in to it.

Hope everyone is having a good alumni weekend, wish I could be there.

2007-12-05T20:34:00.000Z

Quick one for Bert

I'm working on a complete rundown of the Guinness factory visit with Kep (they've been roasting barley again, I've been able to smell it from my apartment the last 2 days) a couple weeks ago. However, this was too good to be true - at least for Bert's anti-hippy campaign.

Check out this naming vote for humpback whales under way by Greenpeace. Nothing too fishy going on there except further proof that democracy may not generate the best choices by the masses - seriously, Mister Splashy Pants ? - but then I noticed something odd: Take a look at when the voting closes.

That's right folks, Greenpeace officially runs on Amsterdam time!

I'll be back with more soon. And if you were wondering - of course I voted for Mister S.P., ruler of the sea and official supplier of Neptune's Grand Golden ShowerTM.

2007-11-06T13:23:00.000Z

Rumble in Rebel City

Wow, one thing I've noticed recently is the precipitous drop in readership on this forum, to the point of being dropped out of links sections on other peoples' blogs. I suppose I really don't have anyone else to blame for this than myself, since I didn't post for an extended period of time. As you probably have noticed (since you are, in fact, reading the blog right now) I have made an effort to blog more frequently again in the past weeks, although I find it very difficult to bring forth the time and effort in light of the amount of work i have for the masters course. So please be patient and show some understanding.

Regarding the masters and the work for it: this very moment I'm procrastinating on a microeconomics homework sheet (due tomorrow, 10 am) and a macroeconomics problem sheet (Thursday, 11 am). I think I'll be ok for micro, but unless someone bails me out on the macro by walking my incredibly unintelligent self through it step by step, I definitely won't be able to complete the work - just like every week so far.

In part I got myself in this position by deciding to take the weekend off from econ and go down/out to Cork - the Republic's second city and also the rebel city, where they drink Murphy's instead of Guinness - to play in what was billed as "the best ultimate tournament in Ireland." There were a lot of pros and cons to going, some of the most important ones being:
PRO:
- I get to play ultimate. I haven't gotten to do this much since the less than satisfactory ending (severing?) relationship with Truck Stop, a disappointing event for me not so much as a player, but more so personally. And with all the talk about the UPA series in recent months, I've been feeling the drive to go back out there and prove to myself that I may be out of shape, but I'm not yet the old, fragile, boring man I pretend to be these days.
- We were going to bring a returners-only big-boy (and girl) team and play some top competition in Ireland, So I knew I wouldn't get stuck playing shwag ultimate, which I hate.
- I'm incredibly stressed out, and I thought it would give me the opportunity to release some stress.

CON:
- It's far away, I had loads of work to do, and taking 2 weekends in a row off may not be a good idea. (I go to London this weekend.)
- Despite what we said earlier, the captain decided to enter 2 teams and thus I would be stuck playing with a bunch of beginners, which generally leaves me frustrated and not the funnest team mate. think of it as summer league in DC, but without Brody as my dump and him to make sure I'm less-than-sober for every fixture.
- Michael was throwing a birthday bash, and I knew that was going to be good.
- Co-ed team. Don't get me wrong, i like having female team mates, I just don't like playing ultimate with most the women out there. Co-ed's fun and all if there is coed juice involved, but when I want to play serious games, I prefer all male teams (or incredibly good women).

So late Friday afternoon I went home, threw some gear in a duffel bag and took the last bus of the day to Cork, arriving there around midnight. I used my Spanish skills to get directions to the hostel the team was staying in (I use so much more Spanish in Ireland than I ever would have imagined.... I go entire days speaking nothing but), and got to bed around 1, only to be woken by drunken room mates twice during the course of the night as they stumbled back in, and not recognizing me, make awkward conversation with themselves for a few minutes. After they had finally gotten to bed, I received a call from P., which they must really have enjoyed.

Saturday began with a game against Bologna, a top European team. Expectations for us were low (over-under on points scored was set at 2), but in a battle attrition we came out on top behind some strong play on the part of Dave (Irish national selection player) and this kid from Emory, Arville, who apparently has played with Sanda and Faust in BUDA. He was a huge asset to have around, as he could provide me with a passable dump, and between his flick and my backhand, we had an excellent deep game all weekend; despite being a split squad we made it to quarters. It was also during that first game that it became clear that I would handling most the weekend, also a new tournament role for me.
Weather conditions were about as perfect as they could be at this time of the year in Ireland, as we had about 12 degrees Celsius, and no wind to speak of, and it didn't rain at all in 2 days! I made it all the way down to playing in just a short-sleeved jersey in most games, and wore a baseball hat and not a winter hat. Considering pictures like this, and how warm it was that day, I was quite surprised by myself.
Overall, the tournament was worth attending, although I have to say that even the best tournament here would be considered a logistical disaster on the US college circuit, although the fields here were very nice and even were lined. if anyone remember Connor from Mary Washington - their one really tremendous played - I played him this weekend and we marked each other all game, and I also got to play and mark the top 2 players in Irish ultimate, both of whom were repping Johnny Chimpo - a worthwhile reference if ever there was one. Playing against that caliber of player also illustrated exactly how out of shape I have become, and how my vertical ability has decayed, so now I have targets to work on for the remainder of the semester.

The Saturday tournament party was themed as the Seven Deadly Sins, and so our teams decided to show up as a pride of lions - as did about 3 other teams. (Sloth was the other popular costume, for fairly self-explanatory reasons. I decided to go as a slothful lion, and just wore yellow shirts and had a whisker or two drawn on my face.) Nonetheless, the yellow body paint many people used gave Sunday morning a decidedly Simpson's look, as the color apparently had soaked into the skin and couldn't be removed anymore.
As usual, the party left me underwhelmed, until I was standing at the bar and decided - due to some bad advice - to just start taking bottles of cordial from behind the bar. Armed with those and a shot glass, Tommy and I then prowled the fiesta inducing young and old, male and female alike to take shots of "tequila/SoCo and lime" or "Jaegermester," depending on whom we were selling what color of cordial to. This was great fun and culminated in the following exchange:

German girl: "that isn't jaegermeister"

Tommy: "Yeah it is!"

Me: "definitely jaeger."

German girl: "No it isn't."

Me: "if it weren't jaeger, why would I do this?" [I chug half a Murphy's, grab the shot glass off the table, throw it into the pint glass, chug the other half of the glass, slam it on the table; then I raise my arms and yell:]

"jaegerbombs, I could f&€*ing shower in that shit!"

2007-10-28T01:25:00.000Z

Now with 100% more GUINNESS in me

Hello! So living in Dublin for a year, it would be a real pity if I didn't spent at least a little bit of time exploring the legendary nightlife: pubs and live music abound, and so I must do my best to steal a few nights from the reading room (don't get jealous - I'm all yours Monday to Friday) and experience this.

One think you'll notice immediately going out in this city is that it is incredibly expensive. Even the most normal pub here is the cost of a fairly expensive city centre place in London, which is incredible in and of itself. However, on the glass half full side of things, I should note that Guinness is in fact the cheapest drink in any establishment here. Unbelievably, unlike the rest of the world, Guinness is actually cheaper here than lager beers and spirits, so at least I get the feeling of getting a really good deal when I go out - despite the fact it really isn't so at all, and I can get Guinness for less in many English pubs (although it's not as good there).

Taking the lead in the going out crew from my program is Michael. The mystery about Michael is this: He's from California, and he's only been living in Dublin for about a year and a half. However, he knows every pub and bar in Dublin, more so even than the kids who grew up and went to college here in the city. No one can figure out why exactly he is so familiar with all the watering holes, but those of us in the program are taking full advantage of this "insider knowledge" to build some familiarity with the local night life. Beyond that, Omar - one of the people I was staying with during my "homeless" period - and I have been going to a couple different places, including a couple parties at his house and that of others. the result of hanging with him is that I actually speak more Spanish here in Dublin than I ever did anywhere but on my trip and Argentina, something that I'm pretty psyched about because it means that this time I might not lose all my speaking and comprehension abilities.

Coincidentally, Lena also knows Omar from Guadalajara. And as a bonus to all the g-dub readers out there - and proof of how small the world really is - here's another thing about Michael. Remember when we went out to Pres day in 2004. Warming up for game 2 or 3, all of a sudden Rackett (spelling?) showed up, surprising us by having driven from San Francisco to San Diego to offer his support. But he had shown up not alone, but with his lady friend and another random kid from the Bay area. And that kid was Michael. Dwell on that.

Also, congratulations to those guys on Truck Stop and Boston.

2007-10-28T00:52:00.000+01:00

No, I DON'T want to see you tomorrow

So this M.Sc. is absolutely killing me. And it is doing so by overloading me with work. Yesterday another guy was talking about celebrating a real breakthrough: after a couple hours of intensive study, he cracked it! And by, it, we were talking about the notes we took in class, not some kind of difficult question we had been asked. That being said, every week we have a take-home due - for each one of our classes. So far, that probably doesn't sound too bad to you guys, right? Well, just know that each one of the 3 is roughly 10 hours (easily), and on top of that we need to read just to be able to start answering these questions, and these reading consist of pages and pages of mathematical proofs, not nice analysis or other prose that might actually be of interest. And then there are our other projects and stuff.... student life in undergrad and post-grad really couldn't have been more different for me.

So to the title of the story: leaving the graduate study room (that's right, we have our own library) last night around eight, one of the other guys in the program comes up to me as I'm bent over my books like a slave in the galleys of a roman warship and says to me - smiling, without irony, and in an almost giddy way - "awesome, I'll see you tomorrow."

Yeah, I'm really looking forward to that.
Because I love suffering for hours over a single line of matrix algebra.

2007-10-17T15:34:00.000+01:00

Blogction

Tuesday, 16 October 2007 was Blog Action Day, when bloggers all over the world teamed up to address all different aspects of a global problem: the environment. Not that i'm saying the environment is a problem, but rather its destruction and dangers facing it.
Although I didn't get around to posting yesterday due to a homework problem set I had to hand in this morning, I'm fgoing to write about it today - after all, they say it's the thought that counts. Moreover, I even got someone else to write something about the environment, although it then degenerated into dribble on diseased prostitutes.... this is why we love you QP.

Recently, my classmates have begun to criticize me for my carbon footprint. This first began after I revealed to them that i was going to London one weekend, and then heading to NYC the following Friday for my short break. If you don't know what a carbon footprint is, you most likely are American, or you just hate mother earth straight up. basically, it is the idea that each person, product or service results in CO2 emissions over time, which then compose a footprint. While my shoes are normally in the 11.5 size range, my class mates ranked my carbon print at least Shaq sized. Now, I don't think they're really earnest, I think it's more that they are taken aback by more lifestyle of bouncing from place to place - this is an Island you can drive across in 3 hours, and it only takes that long because the roads are so bad - so they're just taking a piss, really. But on the other hand, I am a someone who makes an effort to not waste and avoid harming the environment whenever I can. Here some examples:
- I avoid styrofoam whenever possible; for instance, I stop eating at places that use containers made of the material.
- I recycle whenever possible, and hate the feeling of not being able to do so in Dublin because it isn't offered in the city.
- I ride my bike, even preferring so to public transportation such as trains and buses.
- Cold showers.
- I finish my beer.
On the other hand, I can't deny that I do fly considerably more than other people do, or at least more than other non money-earning bums like myself, and as such I can't entirely deny responsibility.
So what am I to do? I'm going to be self-serving here for a moment and say that I already use less energy and have a smaller carbon footprint that just about everyone else I know in daily life, so I don't feel that bad about flying in order to see friends and family. For me, it's also a cultural thing: Many of the people I know and value come from multilingual, multicultural, and multi-locational backgrounds, so for us to live "our life" means that there will be some travel. And I don't care what anyone says, Skyping with Prachee and not seeing her for 8 months is not the same as one week together. You cannot continue preexisting relationships long distance in the same way, whether it's with family, friends, or partner. What I do think is interesting is that for businesses, travel is becoming increasingly the way to go despite the obvious ability to video conference and other communications tools.
So what is guy to do? Should I only fly with Virgin, so I can contribute to Branson's alternative fuel program? Do I simply stop flying, and none of you people see me again? Do I ignore the problem for now, wait for CO2 emissions to be included in economic cost structures, and go on as I have? Let's be honest: at under 500 dollars for a transatlantic flight (and that isn't much money anymore these days), only the most dedicated will do anything but the last of those 3 things....

OK guys, sorry about the miserable post, I'll be back soon with something more interesting.

Peace.

2007-10-15T15:45:00.000+01:00

Resurrection V1.1

Hey everyone! I know it's been quite a while since I last let anything be heard from me, but some of you may have been receiving phone calls over the past few weeks and such, so you know I actually am still alive. Somehow, we managed to survive the trans-Siberian train and all, although I have to say that as hectic as my life was in the last weeks of travel, it has only been more so since I got back to England. In case anyone still reads this, here's a short round-up:

-Got home, started tutoring lessons the next day, continued that a couple days a week and spent time studying on my own.
-Went sailing in Croatia with the family. Unfortunately, this did not represent a reprieve from study, but just meant study plus seasickness. I should add that only mathematics was actually able to induce sickness, which says more about math than about the ocean.
-Moved to Ireland, spent the first couple weeks trying to find a place to live while being in classes all day long and studying at night.
-Found a place to live, but still struggled with classes.
-Had a week off from school and went to see Prachee in NYC, which was loooong overdue and had an absolutely amazing time.
-In week 2 of the main part of the program now, and I am very much overwhelmed by what I do on a daily basis.

For those of you who don't know, I'm currently doing an M. Sc. Economics at Trinity College in Dublin, Ireland.
Before i started here, I didn't realize exactly how quantitatively based the course is, and as such I've been having trouble with that. Here's an example of in-class material:

So, we do a couple of pages per hour like this. I think the above page was 10 minutes worth of work. And if you don't really understand what's going on, that's ok - I don't really know either.

2007-07-26T09:16:00.000+01:00

Mutton Mania

So this post comes to you direct from Ulan Baatar. Since you probably don't know where that is, or of which country it is the capital, I will simply enlighten you: Mongolia. However, I will pick up the story from where I left off:

I never did find Charlotte in Shanghai, because she had already left for Qingdao, a place I couldn't get a bus ticket for. As it turns out, I was probably lucky since I ended up enjoying Shanghai, and they didn't like Qingdao, aside from the tour of the Tsingtao brewer, the largest in the world. While I was there, I was particularly impressed by the Shanghai Museum, which has an excellent collection of Chinese artifacts of many different time periods, and in a more frighteningly way, the Shanghai City Planning Museum. Essentially, the government is trying to grow a city of 20 million people by another 10+ percent in the coming years, all without explaining what public transportation will carry the already bursting city and the expanding surrounding cities. And of course, because it's a government that doesn't need to act accountably, there is absolutely not one mention of costs in the entire place, or environmental impact. the government just talks about "ecologically sound development" without any evidence or explanation of what that means to them.

Once I got to Beijing - this time a "soft sleeper" train, which was most excellent (they give you soft slippers to take home!), meeting Charlotte worked out beautifully and we went back to her place since it was really early in the morning.
Visiting in Beijing with Charlotte and Michal (her boyfriend) was wonderful, in part because it was their final days so that we went to all their favorite restaurants. Therefore, my time in Beijing was absolute the most delectable culinary experience of my trip: we ate at one amazing restaurant after the other, I was constantly full of wonderful food. It was almost like Thailand, except that the food was far more varied in terms of the types of food we were eating (Japanese, Yunnan, Persian, fish and chips - and that last one made no sense to me at the time or now, since we'll all be back in England soon, just like our Doner yesterday; however, I did enjoy both AND I realize that this use of the semi-colon was wrong). We also saw some cool sites, although I skipped the Great Wall. Firstly, it's not that cool a site to visit on your own, which I would have had to do, and second because I don't think it's going to pick up and leave anytime soon. On the day we went to the Temple of the Clouds, we actually had pretty much the best weather since Charlotte got to Beijing: as a result, we could see all of the skyline as well as the mountain ranges to the West and North, a rare event in a city so smog covered that even blue sky essentially never exists no matter how "clear" meteorologists say the weather is. Also, it's a really cool and important site that no one ever hears about until they get to Beijing, which i find quite strange.
Then, on Monday morning we boarded a train to Ulan Baatar, the first leg of our trans-Mongolian train journey. However close the two cities might look on a map, they are 28 hours apart. Unlike my first trip of that length though, I was in a sleeping car with Charlotte and Michal, plus their enormous amounts of luggage. As a result, we were in pretty tight, but it was a lot more comfortable than the other ride, believe me. However, Mongolian trains are not to be compared to Chinese soft sleepers: those are the best, as i found between Shanghai and Beijing.
The scenery between the two cities is quite amazing. My favorite parts were the Gobi desert, which was just a huge brown sand expanse that was coming in our window as I woke up in the morning and was covering everything with a thin layer of fine sand, as well as the steppes that came to the north thereof, with the wide valleys of green grass, occasional gers/yurts, and plenty of horses as well as some cattle.
The city itself has impressed me. I guess my expectations weren't that high, as I expected an old, dusty city of Soviet housing blocks (like Biysk) but with yurts scattered around. As it turns out, the city is very modern, people are really well dressed for the most part, by which I mean that the clothing styles are more akin to Europe due to the Russian influence here than in other parts of Asia. Basically, they are tasteful. Also, Mongolian women do not get the credit they deserve: I'm on the verge of declaring them the most attractive of the countries I've visited.

ok, I'm being kicked out of the internet cafe, leaving on the train tomorrow, I'll arrive in Moscow in 4 or 5 days, I think. we'll see how it works out with the luggage and us in the compartment.

2007-07-16T10:47:00.000+01:00

Mad dashes

I've had a really crazy week or so (how long has it been?) that has seen me cross most of Asia in very little time. Here's a quick filler, I'm sorry I can't be more informative right now, as I'm far too worn out:
From Thailand, I crossed early morning into Laos via the Friendship Bridge, only 20 or so km from Vientiane, the capital of that country. It's a capital, but real small and not very hectic (especially by Asian standards), where there isn't much more to do than see a couple Wats (monasteries) and the National Museum. Having Watted myself out in Thailand, and headed to Luang Prabang next - a city full of Wats that the UNESCO has protected - I got myself a) A Vietnamese visa (in all of 15 minutes!), b) a bus ticket, and after visiting the national museum, c) a pleasant buzz as I sat on the bank overlooking the Mekong, eating and drinking Beerlao, the cheapest beer I've ever encountered, but without doubt also the best on my trip, except for a few microbrews in New Zealand and Kunstmann in Chile. Beerlao on it's own may be enough to justify a trip to the country. But the weirdest thing was stepping off the municipal bus I had taken from the border to the Morning Market in the center of town (if you can call it that....) and ducking inside to escape the hounding of tuktuk drivers - only to be standing in front of dozens of cases/vendors of cell phones, PDA's, and other potable communications devices generations ahead of what there is in the USA. Weird to see that, especially as a first sight of the country.
After an overnight bus I arrived in Luang Prabang, where I spent the day seeing a few Wats, before picking up a book (David Copperfield), and after 2 nights on cramped buses, finally caught some sleep in a bad. Bright and early the next day, I headed off for Hanoi - which looks only 300-400 km away in a straight line, if you check a map. However, there are no direct connections, and so I spent 10 hours going SE, leaving me 3 hours shy of the Vietnamese border (all of 130km! Lao is not for those in a rush....) at Phonasavan, another UNESCO world heritage site, where I had to stay the night. Found a decent bed for 2 US with a shared toilethole, and a cool owner who shared his rice whiskey with me - yumm! I only wish I'd have had time to stay and see the Fields of Jars, the big archaeological thing there, but I was trying to meet Charlotte in Shanghai, so I had to keep pushing on. Also, and just as an aside - in much of Laos, and especially this part, you can NEVER EVER step off the path - the country is literally full of UXOs (unexploded ordinances) from the USA's "Secret War" - more ordinance was dropped per square kilometer here than anywhere else in the world, ever. This was between 1963 and 1975, and most of that ordinance is still lying around. Quite frankly, I don't understand what they were aiming for, the whole country is just farming villages, and since the US couldn't hit the Viet Cong in Vietnam, I don't know why they thought they'd be able to do so here. In continued ridiculousness, the US has never taken part in removing the mines. There's a non-profit - principally funded by the French - and the UN doing all the work here, but more than 80% of the country is still dangerous, so I've been told. As one of the few non-signatories to the anti-landmine convention, you'd think the least the US could do is help this little country out a bit and pay for some of the removal, but no, the US won't clean up after itself, will it. Wonder what's going to happen on global climate change and the UXOs in Iraq. Well, here's your first vision people, and this vision has lots of people, from children to ancients, running around without hands, feet and legs - or for many, crawling along the streets.
6.30 the next morning, I was on a 12 hour bus to Vinh in Vietnam, where I caught a 6 hour bus to Hanoi, arriving shortly after midnight, not a cent in my pocket, but 10 dollars in debt to a German girl who was on the same mission as I and had lent me the money.

The next morning, I tried to buy train tickets directly from there to Beijing - sold out. So instead I went to see the Palace of Literature, which was first built in 1070 and became the first national university 6 years thereafter - a fine old temple, at the gates of which rides must dismount, as is written there. Although this temple was mostly inscribed with Chinese characters, it generally was really nice to be back in a country that uses Latin script - maybe there is something beneficial to colonialism? No, just kidding, but being able to match up words or show people writing for directions makes a huge difference. But I digress....
Next I tried to see the dead Ho Chi Min. I figured that going through Hanoi, Beijing and Moscow, I could make a nice little tour of seeing various dead communists in their differing state of being made of wax (Lenin is believed to be more than 99% wax at this point). Unfortunately, it was Friday, and thus the mausoleum was closed, and I was running around sweltering Hanoi in long pants for nothing (hottest place on the trip). The mausoleum is also closed on Mondays, apparently as days of rest, although I'm unclear why a dead person needs rest. But at least with the rest coming on Mondays and Fridays, it's evenly distributed throughout the week, just as Communism has successfully distributed the Vietnamese wealth equally among its people..... wait a moment! No it hasn't! Lots of Mercedes Benz in Hanoi, and lots of really really poor people. An all these "communist" countries - Laos, Vietnam, China - seem to have a far more thriving entrepreneurial spirit than anything I've seen in the West. Unfortunately, since leaving Thailand, I've also come to realize that most communist economies are also rip-off economies, so you always have to double check everything, write down every price (a spoken word is worth nothing in the face of corrupt police), and always make sure to count your change. It's quite annoying, to be honest, and makes me appreciate the land of smiles all the more in retrospect, although Bangkok certainly contained many of these elements. It's interesting to contrast Laos and Bolivia in that respect: Both are the poorest, landlocked countries surrounded by others that attract most the tourists, and thus are apt for comparison. In Bolivia, the people are genuinely happy you came, impressed that you did, and generally honest in their business with you. In Laos, you're a big walking dollar sign and everyone wants a piece - including monasteries and monks!
Being disappointed by not seeing Ho and not having a ticket, I left in the early afternoon and headed to the border, where I crossed and then got a bus to Nanning, only to find out that everything is full. The following day I got on a 28 hour train ride to Shanghai - and all that was left were standing tickets. I will say that this ride was by far the most unnerving and uncomfortable in my life. Also, if SARS ever makes a comeback, all the Chinese are f&^%ed, because what observed there nearly made me sick. The trains are overcrowded, people spilling all over the place. And you'd think that would mean some people would sit on the ground, but you'd be wrong if you thought that: the same people who would benefit most from a clean floor - those standing - liberally put their waste there, spit, and generally act as though they are in the mighty outdoors, not a cramped train. This is abetted by the attendants, who every so often come through and sweep up the floor, which means they just spread around the grime as they go, making it really really nasty. The result is that you quite literally have to stand. However, people squeeze together on the benches and get up to stretch occasionally, letting some of the standing passengers get a couple minutes of rest. Only at night do some people sit - but only between cars, near the bathrooms on the metal floors; these areas have had people walking out of the bathrooms (once again toiletholes) and over them, spreading god knows what all day long (the floors inside were always wet), so that was a decision I really didn't understand. I also saw one guy lie down on his stomach, then make like a snake and slither under a bench of seats, not to be seen again for several hours (but then, with a big brownish-black mark on the front of his white shirt), a feat I was quite impressed by if only for his agility, not to mention willingness to sleep on the floor.

Once I arrived in Shanghai, I tried to reach Charlotte by phone, but since she still hadn't sent me her mobile number, I had to call Prachee in the States, where I woke her up at 4 am. Because SkypeOut somehow doesn't seem to work in China, and I can hear other people but they can't hear me, she got on the computer and then called my mother for me, thus supplying me with the appropriate mobile number - thank you again to the 2 most important women in my life. However, it was for naught as Charlotte did not have enough credit left on her phone to receive calls, and so I went to find a hotel near the main railway station, which was another nightmare. Now, I'm staying in a somewhat shady place where not a word of English is spoken. I wonder if my bag will still be there when I get back tonight? I locked it up with my PakSafe and all, but who knows.....

As for China, Nanning really impressed me: it's huge (the name wasn't familiar to me, I have to add, although certainly I must have read of it somewhere), and it was seemingly all new. The bus terminal was amazing, and the new high rise section of the city was like nothing else I've ever seen. I also stayed in a hotel that had a computer in the room, although most the sites I like to use - like blogger, for instance - are user-content oriented and thus not necessarily accessible in China. That said, I really hope this post comes through, because I can't see my own page here, but I'm hoping I can post to it.
As for Shanghai, it too is huge, but even on a clear day like today, you can look at the sun without problems because the air is so filthy. I've also noticed an overabundance of McDonald's. Strangely enough though, trying to find an internet cafe here is akin to seeking out a barbacoa burrito in Tel Aviv - it's probably not going to happen (for those that don't know, barbacoa is string barbecue pork). Moreover, most people here can't even understand the concept. When I try to explain it, I draw blank stares, and the best I have been able to do is the business center at major hotels, although these aren't really what I'm going for since they are kind of expensive and not really oriented to long term use. I think the problem is that China is too connected: every little store here has a computer with internet and printer, and most people have internet on their phones (not to mention at home), so they don't need an internet cafe. Only near the South train station did I find an internet cafe, and I'm contemplating returning, although it's on the far side of the city, 30 minutes by subway.

Wow, this has turned into a really long post. But I still ahve to add a few final notes:
I've gone about 4000km in 4 days, most of it through rural areas - I have seen a lot of Asia, and buses and trains have given me an interesting view of the life of those who get on and off them.

I'm still shocked at how few travelers in SE-Asia are aware that Thailand is no longer a democracy (technically a constitutional monarchy), but that it's democratic leadership was done away in a military coupe last October, and the promised new elections (that were to follow within 6 months) still haven't happened. Now the militaries are trying to solidify their position as political heavyweights, here an article from today. Also, the term People Republic pretty much means top-down autocracy, but that hasn't reached the travellers yet, either.....
In Laos, having a good time is not part of the government's plan. Everything closes early, and the bar in Luang Prabang kicked everyone out 25 minutes before "close" because they said the police was coming in "2 minutes". 15 minutes later, still no pigs on the horizon..... I've used this one at house parties to clear out space, and apparently so do bars in Laos.
Why is Rob Hughes the best football writer on earth? Well, beyond his unique access to the biggest players in the game - both on and off the field - here a sample of his writing: "Far from the maddening nonsense of the Beckhams touching down on a distant Galaxy, in the Asian Cup tournament soccer has real meaning on planet Earth." Delicious.....

2007-07-09T07:51:00.000+01:00

The Flying Farang

So on my way towards Laos, I decided to stop off in a city called Nakhsin Rachisima, or something like that. It's known as Khorat, and it's the second largest city in the country, although you wouldn't know from visiting, because there is nothing to see in the city itself, and it has to be the deadest city of 2 million anywhere (kind of like Naples, FL is the deadest city in America). At least according to Lonely Planet, because Wikipedia has a very different opinion. But there are some Angkor cities and monuments nearby, supposedly the best in Thailand, so I thought I'd get a taste of that because I won't get to Angkor Wat for a while. And also, because it was sort of on the way and I'd only seen so little of Thailand despite being there for a full 2 weeks.
In order to get there, I decided to forgo public transportation and rent a motorbike instead (you know, one of those little scooters) with which to race around the countryside. I had a lot of fun doing so, except at one point I was caught in driving rain for about 90 minutes. And starting at a certain speed (not sure which, my speedometer and odometer didn't work) rain drops become really painful when they hit you, so that was not a great experience.
Because I was off the tourist trail, everyone wanted pictures with the white guy, so countless Thais now have pictures with a slightly befuddled looking, grinning German guy two heads taller than anyone else in the picture - all of which was accomplished without a common language.

Right now I'm sitting in an internet cafe in Vientiane, the capital of Laos. I arrived in the border town at 4 am this morning and voila! a mere four hours later I was in a crowded minibus on the Laotian side, headed towards town. Once there, I immediately got my Vietnamese visa, a process that took no more than 15 minutes. Therefore, I'm now set for the rest of my journey, at least as far as crossing borders is concerned. From now on, I'll be sightseeing by day and busing by night - sounds fun, huh?

Here are some final thoughts about things I'll miss from Thailand: the food, standing on the back platform of the saewethang instead of riding inside it, the vast expanses of green rice paddies (especially when they flood after rain), and the commonality of English. But on the upside, I do have YouTube again (it's banned by the military government in Thailand).

2007-07-07T17:15:00.000+01:00

Getting a hang

One of the biggest differences - actually, by far the greatest difference - between my travels so far and my time here in Thailand (and from here forward) is the level of immersion in the local culture. While I am not trying to suggest that I have been "part" of the social fabric of the countries I've visited, I have enjoyed some priviledges most other backpackers didn't: I spoke the language, had studied the history, and understood some of the cultural idiosyncracies in the various places I visited in South America, and New Zealand to a lesser degree. In fact, I'd often watch other gringos suffer horribly in trying to ask for basic things, laughing hard on the inside, before helping out a few minutes later (yes, this was my revenge on all the couples travelling together, of whom I was and still am jelous). Most notably, I don't speak the language here, so beyond looking foreign, I really can't communicate with the people, either - I'm definitly a full blown farang.
However, coming to grips with this problem has been easier as I've just decided to give up any pretense of cultural, and especially linguistic, competency. Thus, I now mercilessly employ English, body language, and waving arms in my attempts to convey questions and ideas. All the while, I smile, which is really important in this country- the name means "land of smiles." While not perfect, I have found this approach can win friends also. Today I stopped off in a market where I was probably the first white person in many weeks, if not ever. I ate really spicy food (to the shock/amusement of the local vendors) and laughed along with all their jokes - despite the fact they were making fun of me, and I knew it. By the end of the meal, I was being invited to try meals at other stands - a bite here, a bite there - and a bunch of peoploeinvited me to stay and drink beer with them all night. However, I still had to drive my rental motorcycle back to town, so I only had a beer and moved on.

Tomorrow I head to Laos. Know anyone who's been there? Me neither. All the things I've experienced here in Thailand should be amplified there, and with a little luck I'll find a mosquito net at the border, too. I have no idea what the internet situation will be like, but hopefully I can keep you up to date on the goings on....

2007-07-03T19:04:00.000+01:00

Love the Empire Day

I'm in high spirits right now, although I'm sure that will wear off shortly. the reason is that I just checked the baseball standings for the first time this season, to discover a pleasant surprise: going into the all star break, not only is Boston on track for 100 wins, but more importantly, the Pirates aren't last in their division. Can you feel the passion!

Just so no one complains that this post doesn't involve anything about my travels, I'd just like to point out that you learned that I haven't been following baseball. But that really isn't anything new. But today I also had a wonderful culinary experience, one so strange I must relate it, especially as a number of the ingredients aren't my favorites. I had a waffle filled with sweet corn (yellow maize) and shaved fresh coconut. It was amazing, despite the weird combination that it was.

2007-07-02T09:34:00.001+01:00

In case you're blind (which would mean you couldn't read this anyway)

My blog has undergone a change! On the right side, you will now find links. Not that these are spectacular in any way, but the first one is a link to my Flickr account, where I've been saving all the pictures from my trip. Si check those out when you get bored at work, or if you want to see (i mean, really see) what Willis is talkin' about.

I know that many of the pictures aren't that great, or don't mean much without some introduction, but I'm sorry, I already spend way too much time in internet cafes, so I haven't yet labeled the 1500+ pictures. Nor have most been geotagged, but that may yet happen sometime in the future.

Have fun procrastinating!

2007-07-01T15:20:00.000+01:00

I got duped today

So after about 6 months of travelling (a little more, actually, but who's counting....), I figured I'd be a pretty savvy traveller by now. Well, you'd hope so, or else I need to go buy one of those t-shirts on Khosang Road where a monkey has a bandaged stump for an arm and is juggling a chainsaw with the other arm, and the caption reads "I'm a slow learner." I may do that anyway though. Or maybe Ed deserves that one for his blog earlier about the doctor.

So today, I visited a temple and was then going to go to the palace to check it out. As I'm leaving the monastery compound, the ticket guy starts talking to me, which isn't that unusual since almost all Thais are extremely friendly and super helpful. So after a few minutes of chit chat, he tells me that the royal palace is closed for some kind of holiday or something. This seemed entirely plausible as parts of the monastery I had just visited were closed also. So he suggests these other Wats (monasteries) instead, and says I can go by the travel info center on the way to get some errands I had done. He also gave me a suggestion on which markets might yield good prices for technology stuff, as I needed a storage card for my camera. He also helped me out by negotiating an excellent price with a tuk tuk (motorized rickshaw) driver to run me to these places before dropping me back off at the Royal Palace. Well, I thought it was an excellent price ($1.30) that probably is normal for locals.
Now, at the time I thought "cool, that was nice" but after my first errand, the guy keeps mentioning a specific tailor. Now, I'd been interested in maybe talking to a tailor here, but more out of curiosity than anything else, and it begin to dawn on me that I've fallen for a classic Bangkok scam, one so frequent it's even detailed in my guide book, because there is no way the 40 Baht will cover gas expenses. After another stop, this time at a Wat, I quite frankly tell the driver that I can't take any clothing with me since my bag is full, but he plays it real cool: He straight up tells me that he gets a cut if I go, regardless of whether or not I buy anything, and that's what makes the ride price possible. I tell him I'll take a quick look, but he shouldn't get his hopes up, and indeed, after talking to the tailor for 2 minutes it's clear he won't provide the services I would consider, and so I stroll back outside and the tuk tuk shoots off to the next sight. This was a really cool Wat, located/built as a hill on the top of which is a shrine in which remnants of the Buddha himself are kept (if I understood correctly) and which is topped with a gold spire. From there, you have a fantastic 360 degree view out over the entire city, and I am really happy that I've gotten there.

However, when I descend back down, my driver has disappeared. But since I got a city map that includes the bus lines, I am no longer dependant of the taxis and tuk tuks, and can make my own way around the city for much less money. Moreover, it turns out I'm not that far from the palace anyway, and there is some other stuff even closer by that I wouldn't mind seeing.

So let me summarize the situation: I got an errand done and saw two sites I probably wouldn't have seen otherwise (but am glad I saw), then got dropped down the block from the Democracy Monument (which I felt I had to visit for irony's sake) and did not have to pay for any of this. Pretty much, I got scammed but ended up winning out in the situation while the scammers got nothing. Sweet. If they hadn't "scammed" me, I probably would have spend twice as much (as I didn't pay at the end) just getting to the tourist office to get the bus map. Savvy traveller indeed!

But the best part of the day hadn't even begun: Using my new map, I easily walked over to the Democracy Monument, where I found a huge protest going on. It was a big pro-democracy rally that was moving down the street from the royal palace past the monument and towards the royal residence, as I was to see. So since the protest was going in the direction I needed to head, I walked with them for a while, then decided to stay on and ended up having a great afternoon. The protest was an interesting experience. First and foremost, I think the gratitude of the people there will remain in my mind: Everyone was friendly, someone gave me one of the yellow headbands and a flag, and many people took pictures of me, or even came up to thank me for participating. Clearly, people here feel that they have a better chance of returning to democracy if the international community is on their side. I was offered water and everyone wanted to know where I am from. I got hugs and smiles left and right.
The overall protest was interesting, also. When the protest arrived at a police blockade of the road, the organizers used human chains for a number of purposes. The first one I saw surrounded the main vehicle, presumably in case anyone would try to take control of it. Beyond that, another human chain kept the protest divided so that the people in the front wouldn't be pushed up against the police, creating a confrontation. Instead, space was left so that neither side would feel threatened, and the police did not try to fill that space, either. Then a lot of stuff ion Thai followed, so I'm not exactly sure of what was going on. There was a lot of chanting, back-and-forth calls with speakers on the vehicles, sitting down and standing up. I think the protest was demonstrating unity. Finally, the front of the protest began moving up on the police while the main train of people stayed where they were (being the tallest person in the whole march gave me a good overview of what was happening). Then, as the protesters came close, the police just backed away to the side, blocking off another street but letting the march pass on along its preferred route. I saw some people leave the main vehicle earlier who had returned just before this happened, so I think it may have been a negotiated retreat.
Sever hundred meters further on, the same scenario repeated itself, except that the police did not let the march enter into the grounds of the race track adjoining the royal residency. Instead, the protest turned left, and I turned right, headed towards the tech market (where I found everything I wanted and more).

Good day, saw lots of the city, had a great experience on the use of non-violence (this definitely relates to what we've been discussing on Spears' blog).

2007-06-27T17:57:00.000+01:00

Hi Daffy

So I referenced the movie The Beach in my last post. This may be the best movie ever. Well, not really, but it can be good in certain situations. And i think it's actually a disturbingly large part of the reason I came to this country.

So here is a picture of me in the hostel. Man, do I look ridiculous, or what? I should mention that on the first night, I kept thinking I would run into the blood-soaked Daffy character every time i turned a corner, or see blood running out under the doors.... ok, so I'm a little crazy, but we all knew that already, right.

Here's some other stuff about Thailand: The country name means the land of smiles, and indeed, lots of teeth visible here. People are really friendly, except that a lot of cab drivers try to rip you off. And apparently the organ trade is alive and kicking here, so I'll try and stay out of that. But aside from that, things are great. Also, the food is relatively clean here compared to other countries in the region, and especially compared to Latin America. they also have a weird calendar: they use Western days and months, but count the years from Buddha's enlightenment. Therefore, I am a time traveler and am writing to you from the year 2550. Also unusual are the large number of girlie boys here. If you don't know what that is, imagine walking up to a counter staffed by a pretty girl. However, when she speaks you realize she isn't really a she. And she has big feet. Also, not all girlie boys are in the same state of transformation, making things.... interesting. Bert, it might not be for you. Also, I'm very close to the james bond Island. If you are asking yourself "which one?" and then continue with "that one?" the answer is yes.

And here's a picture I just felt I had to add. My caption is: "Naked Gun come to life". If anyone has other/better suggestions, please feel free to share them.

Last but not least, shout outs to Prachee, who continues to be amazing every day.

2007-06-26T12:08:00.000+01:00

....and I'm back!

No, not in Europe, you sillies. I'm back to blogging. But then again the two people who still read this knew that anyway.

I've decided that it's pointless for me to try and play catch-up, so I'm just going to skip the rest of my time in South America and New Zealand for now, and start talking in the present.
I arrived in Phuket in Southern Thailand last night. The food here is amazing, I can already tell that the ASia section oif my trip is worthwhile just from a culinary perspective. While South America was ok, this is great: I started my day with a curry over rice, and it's been heaven ever since.....

I also want to say that although New Zealand was very nice and all - and ammentities like drinkable tap water and smooth roads, English spoken commonly, ets - I'm really happy to be back in an LDC. I walked past a canal this morning that smelled of stale water, rot and maybe a little bit like human waste... and was happy it did. Weird.

I'm staying in the hostel from the movie "The Beach" with Leonarde DiCapri. When I saw last night that it's here in town, I just had to stay there. And I'll tell you, it's just as creepy and grimy as in the movie, theyt didn't have to bring in any set-building whizzes to get it like that. I keep thinking i'm going to run into Duffy's body in the hallway or find blood running out from under the door. The only thing they've changed is that the mosquito netting between the rooms (at the top, where Duffy pokes through to smoke weed with Leo's character) has been replaced with wood. I'm guess too many people were reenacting the movie scene......

2007-06-03T01:39:00.000+01:00

Bad Blogger

Many of you are probably wondering why I have such few posts (and am so many months behind) on my blogging. The truth is I have become disenchanted with Blogger. It constantly loses my posts when they are in draft mode, and sometimes when I click "publish" half the text I've typed disappears.

Thus, each post takes forever to complete (and I have to write it about 4 times) - the last post is a perfect example. I'd spent an additional hour adding photos, links, and far more text, all of which got lost when I published the post.

So in conclusion, sorry I haven't ben more consistant, and I'll rework that last post so that it actualy males sense.

2007-05-18T07:52:00.000+01:00

Uyuni salt flat tour

From Uyuni, I booked a 3 day/2 night tour that would end in the salt flats.

The environments you see on that tour definitely seem otherworldly to Europeans and Americans, as we really don't have much like it at home. Reading Mae's description will give you an idea of what I mean. (At this point I should add that her diligent blogging has been inspiration to my, although it has not sufficed to make me equally diligent.) I've also put together all my photos from the tour in an album on my flickr page, so you can see what I saw - minus the boredom and whatever I saw after my camera battery gave out.

Also along on the trip were 4 Israeli girls (the Israeli percentage of travellers in Uyuni has to be at least 90%), as well as two American guys, which gave us the opportunity to talk about the NCAAs, starting that weekend. Weird as it sounds, that was really enjoyable for me, although it probably won't have the staying power that the environment had.

One thing that has really stuck with me - both from the train ride to Uyuni and the salt flat tour - is my continued wondering what the people on the side of the road/track must feel like and think. Most of Bolivia's residents live in what is known as the altiplano. Much of Bolivia is in fact altiplano, although my guidebook indicates that most of it is not. Either way, it's areas above 3500 meters. Not too much grows at the altitude and climate. For the most part, particularly in the part of the altiplano we saw, that meant that quinoa and potatos grow, and llamas can be herded. And that is about all.

So these people who live in the altiplano, who often need to attend boarding school in order to go to secondary school (the state provides these, although I'm sure some fees are involved), really have little expectation of ever leaving the country and travelling the world. But at the same time, trains and SUVs full of tourists from all over the world pass by several times a day. What must these people think of the tourists they see, many of whom are broke or in debt, but cary a digital camera and mp3-player with them? I really can't say what that must feel like to those who are in a very real sense standing by the roadside of globalization, but can't catch a ride. I imagine it's worst alongthe train tracks though, because at least cars sometimes stop and the foreigners interact with the locals (to the degree possible) whereas the train is just a big metal box with hands holding digital cameras out the windows passing.

As for the salt flat tour itself, it was definitly a highlight of the trip, and anyone who misses out on the opportunity to see the environments on that tour is a fool.

2007-05-18T07:34:00.000+01:00

Nothing quite like it

When I awoke in Uyuni the following day, I had already missed all opportunities to leave for the salt flat tour for the day, so all I had left to do was schedule departure for next day (easily done through the hostel) and explore the town. It turns out Uyuni has pretty much nothing to offer. There's one small museum, where among the few items they have is a remarkably well preserved mummy. Well, I'm not going to lie to you....nothing brightens your morning quite like staring at one of these:

Oh, and they love displaying mummies in the high Andes regions - I've seen plenty in my time there.

2007-05-09T01:11:00.000+01:00

I have a future

I got into graduate school today! Yay! I'll be doing a M.Sc. in Development Economics at Trinity, Dublin. If anyone else will be on the emerald isle next year, holla!

I'm really excited about this, as those of you with whom I've spoken about this know, I actually didn't expect to be admitted anywhere, let alone such a good program. This ends weeks of anxiety regarding the issue. Now I just have to prove worthy of the honor and avoid flunking out.... just kidding (ljctkoj?) - I plan on taking this one a lot more seriously than the time at GW, and actually will do well. It also means that my schedule posted on the blog will stand as is, at least all the big legs.

p.s.: I know this post stinks, but it's the best I can do.

2007-05-06T01:51:00.000+01:00

The Bolivian frontier

From Salta, I planned on travelling through to Uyuni in Bolivia in one swift go. As it turned out, Bolivian travel is rarely swift, and the single go included a number of frustratingly long pauses. However, I was lucky to meet two other people from the same hostel in Salta who planned on making more or less the same trip (they would be getting off the train a little earlier). Between the three of us, we had a nice little travel group, something we noticed as we boredly stared at the tiny TV screen at the hostel, as our bus didn't leave until 12.30 am. For those of you that are confused, that's 00:30 or half past midnight.

There were also other reasons for not wanting to travel alone: while Chile is definitely safe, and I feel comfortable in Argentina because I more or less fit in both physically and linguistically, I was a lot less sure about Bolivia: it's straight 3rd world, plagued by what Lonely Planet calls the "triple crown" of underdevelopment (illiteracy, low life expectancy and something else I've now forgotten - probably extreme poverty, of which I saw plenty), a country where everyone is indigeno and Spanish is more of an afterthought than lingua franca - and my Quetchua is mighty rusty. At least that's what I'd heard about the country.

At the very least, I'd quelched (is that even a word?) any remaining fears I had about not having the little piece of paper that foreigners need to leave the country without paying a big fine. I told you about how I didn't receive that document here. In Buenos Aires, I'd gotten the phone number of the German consular section and gotten in touch with them about my problem - on about the 15th try. (The upside to having the phone number in my passport for so long had been that it got me out of a bribe attempt by Argentine cops, who visibly fretted upon opening my passport and seeing the name, address and phone number on a paper therein. But that's another story all together.) When I finally did reach the consulate - I'd had to call the emergency number in order to actually get someone on the phone - I was told that if Germans are given any papers at entry, they are just statistical questionnaires, and only Americans are forced to suffer the pain of holding onto the special entry paperwork.... haha!
So the three of us set off from the hostel in Salta, A German, a Czech, and an Israeli.

The first thing you notice when you take a bus to the Bolivian border is that it's probably the worst bus in Argentina. Otherwise, the Argentine bus system is amazing, but the buses up to the border are pieces of crap. Moreover, there were more Bolivians and Israelis in the bus than anything else, something that holds for Bolivia in general. Also, the normal order of the buses begins breaking down: tons of campesinas had huge bags and blankets full of god knows what being loaded into the bus, and most of them had one or two dirty, snot-nosed kids tagging along, too - and they were of the opinion that they shouldn't have to pay for the kids. The conductor saw this differently, and soon there was a massive argument about who exactly needs tickets immediately in front of me at the bus door. The conductor pointed out that the lady can't bring two kids on for free and expect all the other foreigners to pay, then looked at me for confirmation, which is something I felt obligated to agree with. Anyway, the bus driver let me on, then continued his fight with the woman, but not before she pushed one of the kids in the door behind me and when the bus driver pulled it back out, claimed it was my child.....riiiiiiiiight.

We arrived in the Argentine border town of La Quiaca at the beautiful hour of 5 am, an hour early and two hours before the border would open. Chilling at a wonderful 3400 meters above sea level, it was really cold there, so we grabbed our packs and headed into the station in hopes of finding something warmer. All we found was a station full of Bolivians huddled under blankets and a vile smell. Tom (the Israeli guy) and I also found that some kind of weird, hot motor-oil smelling fluid was on our packs, something I'd noticed when I pulled my jacket out in the cold and dark, but not realizing the extent. Like I said earlier: not the best bus. I was fortunate in that although I got the mystery fluid all over my bag, that where it stayed - on the outside. Tom was not so lucky, and as he pulled the pieces of clothing out of his bag, horror was written all over his face.

Before we knew it - or had fully assessed the damage to Tom's property, it was time to head towards the border, so we strapped on our packs and got going. This decision was aided by our being freezing cold, so we wanted to move. It actually was pretty cool walking through the dark city as dawn came over the horizon, and it got light really quickly, so after some pictures at the border, we were able to cross in to Villazón, the Bolivian border town.

Once you cross the border, you know right away that you are in a different country - and this country's a lot poorer. Everything's really dirty, people are trying to sell you anything that can be made from llamas at the border, and buses are ratcheted up about 4 feet in order to make it across the Bolivian "roads." And despite being a border town and transport hub, Villazón doesn't have a single ATM open to foreign cards.

We ended up camped out at the train station for a couple hours, during which time Tom fully inspected the damage to his bag - hilarious damage, I may add. Each pair of pants had a dark crotch stain, while every shirts was embellished with dark areas around the armpits. Eventually, however, our train departed, and the fun had to end. I will add, however, that the one good thing about Villazón was my first exposure to Bolivian food: for a whopping 6 Bolivianos (the name of the people and the currency...), which totals some $.75 American, I had a 2 course meal that was quite tasty. In the train (which moves at about 20 miles per hour - 9 hours to Uyuni, a grand distance of 160 km) they had a) toilets and b) TVs/movies. While either one of those may seem normal to you, believe me, in Bolivia they aren't.

The first movie they showed was "Blood Diamond" starring the always arresting Leo DiCapprio. I'd hoped that my first viewing of the film wouldn't be on small screen 35 feet away with incomprehensible audio, but despite this I was able to enjoy the film. The second movie was some Bolivian production, and I use that term loosely: they apparently don't have audio editing equipment in the country, and much of the movie consisted of people conversing in the middle of the altiplano, in other words in the middle of nowhere and all I could hear was the wind in the microphone. This was topped only by the scenes in "Buenos Aires," which were actually a Bolivian pig stall. At that point I wished they didn't have TVs in the train.

We finally arrived in Uyuni at shortly before 1 in the morning. One of the things about Bolivian public transportation that makes it so special is that all departure and arrival hours are at the most horrid times imaginable. In this case, I than had to find a hostel , and after following some Israelis for a while in an unsuccessful attempt to find a hostel with heating, I went to the HI. It was slightly warmer there than outside, and that did the trick for me.

2007-05-05T00:38:00.000+01:00

the MAAM - or how national identity can evolve

While I was in Salta , I also visited a number of museums, including a very new - and quite well done - one by the name Museo de Archaelogia de Alta Montaña, the MAAM (Museum of Archaeology of High Mountain Areas.... the English acronym of MAHMA just isn't that sexy, is it? Does that reflect the fact that Argentine ladies are generally more sexy than English one? I don't know, but feel free to weigh in on this subject in the comments section). This museum is so new it isn't in most guidebooks, although it should be. On the one hand, it has a number of excellent exhibition items, but almost more interestingly, it illustrates how Argentina's attitude viz-á-viz its own history is changing, particularly regarding the original indigenous inhabitants of the southern cone.

The reason the museum was created was for an Incan ice-mummy that originates in the Salta region. The Incas had this crazy thing where they made human sacrifices, though not on the scale of, say, the Aztecs, although their way of doing it was pretty loco. First the kids - and I mean children, usually between 6 and 12 - would be selected from different regions of the huge empire and be blessed by the Inca (emperor) during the Inti Rami (sun festival) in June in Cuzco. From there, the children, priests, and entourage would walk in a straight line to the sacrificial sight - straight across rivers, through valleys and over mountain tops, and whoever has seen the landscape here knows that isn't easy today with mountaineering equipment. (In the meantime, Jeremy Piven would be handling the logistics.) These sacrificial sites were of course significant in their own right - they lay atop the highest peaks in the Andes, usually above 6000 meters over sea level. The peaks were both home to gods, and also these high peaks were revered as deities themselves by the Incas. Although northern Argentina was among the furthest places from Cuzco still in the Incan empire, a disproportionate amount of these sacrifices took place in what is now Argentina, because some of the highest mountains in the Andes are there, including Aconcagua, which is the highest peak in the Americas although no sacrifices have been found there.
The little girl that is housed in the MAAM was first unearthed in the 1930s, but then sold to a collector in Buenos Aires, where she was soon forgotten and badly abused. Eventually, it was purchased at a yard sale in the mid nineties for an astounding U$S 25 - that's right, the same price as two movie tickets and a medium popcorn, and a far better investment considering that the buyer received an invaluable archaeological artifact that to locals is a semi-goddess. The museum was created to house her remains and explore the Inca influence in what today is Argentina.

The museum emphasizes the continuity of the belief system that led to the girl's being sacrificed, which among peasant indigenos in the area are still maintained. In fact, videos that form part of the display have interviews with campesinos who talk about how the girl's spirit appealed again and again to local people to return her body home during her decades in exile. According to these locals, those visions and dreams have discontinued since the body's return to Salta, although she did appear to one woman to thank her and affirm her spirit is back at rest. The exhibits also emphasize t he girl as a person, on not simply an object to be stared at, and so the room in which she is displayed is treated like a tomb: visitors are asked to remove hats and keep their voices low. Moreover, she isn't lit all the time, but visitors push a button that lights her up for several seconds.
Speaking of that lighting button, it's actually quite funny: There is a thick panel of glass, and behind it darkness. Since most museum exhibits aren't right up against the display screen, most visitors lean down and really close to the glass before pushing the button - only to find themselves 3 inches from the girl's half-decayed face, with her mouth and eyes torn wide open, screaming. I think it's about as cos e to a horror flick as any museum will take you. I certainly jumped at that, then decided to hang around the room and see what others' reactions would be. I wasn't disappointed, as most visitors not only jumped back from the glass, but most the girls would scream, also. I know the museum organizers wanted to give the girl dignity by keeping her obscured, but the result seems rather counterproductive.

I think the approach of the museum, particularly acknowledging the girl's continued importance to local peoples, is a tremendous step forwards for Argentina. This after all is the country that a) managed to kill almost all black descendants of slaves in a war with Paraguay and where many people say that if they're black, they simply can't be Argentine because there are no black Argentines, b) waged a war of extinction against indigenous peoples, know as the Conquista del Desierto, that today would probably be condemned as genocide, and c) not only has Catholicism as a state religion, but continues to ban all forms of abortion (and where many feel embarrassed to buy condoms!) and pays the country's bishops out of state coffers.
In essence, government money is supporting something that implicitly (or even explicitly) acknowledges - and even emphasizes - the country's polyethnic and polyreligious past and present. This goes along with the generational gap I've observed in how Argentines perceive themselves, with youngsters feeling more connected to the rest of South America than to Europe, and decrying anti-Bolivianism as outright racism, hypocrisy in a country that itself has indigenos and needs to embrace its Latino identity. Sure, much of this is the result of Argentines coming to terms with their new found economic position in the world (way farther down, and no longer on par with countries from Southern Europe or akin to the USA, and now being outperformed by Brazil and, even more so, Chile) that in many ways have made it more South American, but the affects are as much cultural as anything else.

2007-04-15T21:18:00.000+01:00

Barney Gomez a.k.a. Barney Gumble

As I couldn't remember if we (and by that I mean Brad and Ben and I) had visited Salta during our foray to northern Argentina on fall break 04 other than to catch the Cope Libertadores match, I decided to check it out. After all, everyone speaks well of it. A 24 hour bus cama from Bs. As. later, I arrived. But only after tearing myself away from Buenos Aires with great difficulty.

When I arrived, I saw a city I really had no memory of whatsoever. I therefore headed towards a hostel recommended by another traveller. Of course, it turns out that there are actually 3 hostels by the same name in Salta, and I of course ended up at the wrong a.k.a. the boring one. But that didn't really matter since I would only be staying in town for one night before heading towards Bolivia and the great unknown.

One problem I encountered immediately upon arriving in the city was one of profound stupidity. Think of it as some kind of euphoria-less feeling of being stoned. Or the daze of bright sunlight on your eyes after pulling an all-nighter with Australian backpackers; read that as after drinking heavily all night. Anyway, i was entirely unable to express myself in Spanish, and even my English seemed a little off. Now, all the locals would laugh and say it's the altitude that affects all travellers; I think that's crap as Salta really isn't that high up. I think it's the combination of 24 hours on a bus, which means on and off low-quality sleep, plus hunger (the breakfast was small and not very good), plus the general damage Bs. As. did to my system are to blame. Whatever the cause may be, however, the effect was that my Spanish was greatly diminished, to the point of appearing laughable even to myself. But a nap later, this problem had dissipated, a further indication that it was not the altitude affecting me.

Rested, I thus went to explore the city. My first reaction to the city was that it seemed entirely new to me: even the beautiful central plaza and the gondola that connects downtown with a viewing mountain above the city didn't recall any memories. In fact, nothing I saw or did in Salta was at all reminiscent of 2004 - until I was on my way home after dinner that night, that is. I was looking at a little map/guidebook of the kind given out by hostels and found a bar by the name of Barney Gomez, a character from The Simpsons known to anglophones as Barney Gumble. The name brought back memories of a post-rafting evening with all the trapping of being our best night out on that 04 road trip, so I decided to check out the place. Indeed, it was the same bar we visited back in the day, except that it was pretty dead. But just being there brought back some memories of that road trip that had been long forgotten, and wouldn't be appropriate here.

The next morning I decided to take the gondola to the top of the hill that sits immediately above town, on e of the main in-town tourist attractions. (There are also some nice museums, but more on that later.) The elevation going up is an extra 250 meters, i think, and you do indeed go up in the gondola much like when skiing. Anyway, from the top you have an absolutely gorgeous view of the city, and beyond it the valley that stretches down from the Andean highland towards .... well, I don't really know, but in the direction of the pampa/sea, I suppose. After all, both of those are lower than Salta, and valleys tend to have some kind of incline. I then hiked down the mountain, which made me really glad that I hadn't hiked up; it's abut 1000 steps, plus some incline parts. Unfortunatly the nature trail on the back side of the mountain was closed (for no apparent reason), so I had to be happy with the flora and fauna I saw on the descent. This wasn't particularly spectacular other than the large amount of incredibly HUGE spiders. Some were definitely larger than my hands, and not being a huge fan of arachnids, this kind of creeped/grossed me out.

Other than that though, the city is quite lovely, and not totally unlike Cordoba, in that it has a beautiful central plaza, and the rest of city is sort of a mix between older, nice buildings (including plenty of churches) and more modern, less attractive ones.

2007-04-04T22:42:00.000+01:00

Damn you, homogeneity!

So i spent 2 days trying to get a falafel lunch in Palermo at a place the the whole study abroad crowd frequented.... and by frequented, I mean pretty much camped out in once we had discovered it. The reason I so desperately wanted falafel is that it is one of my favorite foods. Moreover, the food in Argentina is best summed up in the following two adjectives: repetitive and bland. So i had been pining for a good falafel and some hot sauce for quite a few weeks, really looking forward to tucking into about 3 sandwiches the first time I'd be eating there.

Here's what you need to understand about food in Argentina: I'm not saying it isn't good, because for the most part it's absolutely delicious. The only problem is the lack of diversity, and the lack of spice. In terms of food variety, your choices are pretty basic: Steak, pizza, past, or empanadas. Moreover, the main spice the country uses is mayonnaise. Mayonnaise! In lots of cheap restaurants, they don't have salt or pepper on the tables, and when you ask for it, you may even elicit a surprised stare - and they may not even have any. Sometimes I really wonder how they even cook in that country.

I couldn't find it the first time, and thought it was just a fluke, because even though there was a place that looked a lot like it from the outside, it sold empanadas, so I didn't go in. Then after spending the following day's lunch time looking for it again, I decided to go into the empanada place, and indeed it was the former Lebenese restaurant, complete with the stairs and bathroom in the same places, but nothing even remotely vegetarian or spicy on the menu. I was pretty upset, but even more so, disappointed. In a city already teeming with empanada places, why not remove the only cheap and accessible Halal food place and replace it with something you can get on every street corner!

2007-04-04T20:48:00.000+01:00

Home Sweet Home

I took an overnight bus from Cordoba to Buenos Aires, where i arrived early in the morning. There were several minor problems facing me when I arrived: Even though I had tried to book a bed at Milhouse Hostel - recommended to me by both Looney and a very experienced backpacker - they had somehow not received my first request and thus I didn't yet have a place to stay for the first 3 days. I also hadn't been in touch with my host family from study abroad, Josefina and Nacio, because when I got back to the States after the semester, my computer with the email addresses had been stolen; and since it was 6.30 in the morning, I didn't feel like it was an appropriate time to stop by for a surprise visit. Moreover, I didn't really have a game plan for what I wanted to do while in Bs As, except for my desire to eat falafel at our "establishment" up in Palermo (more on that adventure in another post).

Anyway, I hauled my rear end to Milhouse anyway, thinking they might reserve some beds just for stop-ins (a.k.a. people who just show up) since many hostels do this. Unfortunately, they do not. However, another person had recommended a hostel around the corner from there, which for all its other charms has the unfortunate nomer "The Clan House." However, I can certify that no Imperial Wizards or the like are hiding out there: it's just yet another example of Argentines' trouble with the English language, where certain phrases just don't carry over. I ended up really liking the feel of the hostel and more importantly, the people living there, so I stayed there for most of my time in Bs. As. even returning after my 3 nights at the Milhouse, which I found overly institutional and was populated by about 90% English and Irish. Coincidentally, I ran into the group of travelling Englishmen (and -woman) that have been trailing me around the continent: from checking into Casa Roja in Santiago on the same day to seeing them in Pucón, Puerto Varas, sharing a hostel in Chiloe, and the Bs. As., it's getting a little weird. They're good people though, so it's ok - though like many British travellers in these parts, they speak little Spanish and drink a lot.

Anyway, the first day in Bs As I decided to take a look at Plaza Francia/Recolleta and the design center there (my favorite shops in the world? probably...) and on the way back stopped by and luckily found both Nacio anf Fina at home, so hung out there for a couple hours catching up with them. Since it was Friday, Nacio said he'd drum together the old gang at their new bar, and we'd try to make it an early night. As it were, it was an early night for Argentines - we met at 12.30 am. I think I got home at 8.30 am.

I spent most of my 9 days in the city visiting old haunts and just generally walking around parks and visiting museums. Then, on the weekends, hanging out with Nacio and the other guys I met through him during my study abroad time there, which was awesome, and the best part of being in Bs. As. During my time there, I realized that the city really does feel almost like home to me. I realized that I've spent about as much time living in Buenos Aires as I have in London, and my knowledge of London is hardly any better than that of Buenoas Aires. Plus, which my various accents in various languages, I probably get no more strange looks - less actually - in Argentina than I do in London. And because I speak like a porteño, I don't get messed with like i do in the UK for having an American accent, people expect that I know the city. So hopefully, one of these days I can get a job in Buenos Aires and spend another couple months - if not years - there.

2007-03-29T23:47:00.000+01:00

Cordoba

Cordoba is known for its UNESCO world-heritage site status and its many prestigious universities, particularly the O.G. of Argentine universities, the Jesuit University that was among the first in South America. This university was later shut down but then reopened a hundred years or so later, after the Spanish crown - which had kicked the Jesuits out of all of Latin America - no longer controlled the country.
In Argentina, it is also known for the beauty of its residents, if such a thing is even possible in that country (for those that don't know, Argentines are considered attractive despite their preference for the mullet haircut).

My personal response to Cordoba is disappointment: although there are some nice areas of historic buildings, most of the city is quite modern. This isn't to say that attending the university int he historic buildings wouldn't be spectacular, it's just that relative to the size of the city (1 million) a few building don't really weigh in heavily. As for the cordobesas - because i was only in town for a short while, and during the week, i really didn't get to meet any, since most of downtown is full of students who come from all over the country. Moreover, my argie friends tell me that what makes them sexy are their accent and inflection in speech. As a result, I think that special something is unlikely to be picked up on by foreigners. This reminded me of one of the many lessons gleaned from all those anthropology classes I took as part of my major: Sex and sexuality with all they entail are, like race, cultural constructs.

Also, the city sounded like it was in the middle of a civil war. There were constantly loud bangs that sounded like cannon shots. The reason for this was an ongoing protest by remis drivers, who blocked roads with their vehicles, burnt tires on the road, thew eggs at those remises that didn't join their protest, and burnt tires in the middle of intersections. They also besieged the municipal government's building so there was a constant stand-off between drivers and heavily armed riot police. That's when they weren't sitting on curbs drinking fernet and cola and verbally harassing the female traffic wardens.

For whatever Cordoba lacked otherwise, it made up for in the people I met. Principally, there were Paul, Frank and Kendal. Frank and Paul are British, Kendal is Australian, and Frank and Kendal are engaged. The two of them are travelling around the world from London on their way to Oz, where they will be married. Paul decided to join them for some time in Latin America as a way to spend time with them. Anyway, they are buena onda as they say in Argentina. The last evening in town, before catching our respective buses, we went out for a steak dinner. The food was delicious, and the steaks were huge - so large in fact that I couldn't finish mine or I would have missed my bus, which I just barely made as it was. I think this was the best steak I had in my entire time in Argentina. And as Frank pointed out regarding the size of our bife de chorizos (sirloin steaks): "It was about the size of a newborn baby...... roughly."

2007-03-25T20:09:00.000+01:00

Hard feelings?

The Argentines are none-too-happy about how IMF support eroded their country.

At least that's how they see it. Under President Menem in the 1990s, Argentina pursued an open economic policy that favored foreign direct investment. As it turned out, many businesses were bought up, and so the Argentines feel that they were forced to sell out on their own assets to protect the IMF loans, which eventually they ended up defaulting on anyway.

However, I think economists see the situation somewhat differently: It was the unsustainable currency-exchange board that locked the Arg. Peso 1:1 with the US$ that ran the country into ruin, because businesses' costs weren't equal to actual value. Moreover, the corruption surrounding the abandonment of the fixed rate angered many, but was no more than emblematic of the great corruption under Menem's economic regime. But when everyday Argentines saw their assets depreciate by 70% in 24 hours, saw their bank accounts frozen so the government could appropriate the money in a last-ditch effort to service debts, saw the political leaders and their cronies flee with immense wealth, and saw their once wealthy country decimated, factories shut, the public sector's workers unpaid for months, and no politicians willing to step up to the challenge, that they came to associate all these policies - whether good or bad, actually imposed by the IMF or not - with that organization and rejected it.

Now I can see both sides: On the one hand, I understand the value of the IMF as a last-resort lender to countries at risk for debt default. I also understand criticism of the IMF that says in the case of Argentina, it should have force the Menem government to give up the fixed exchange rate, as it simply wasn't viable in the long run. What's the point of structural adjustment if you aren't willing to make the dumbest of all ideas part of history?

Well,regardless of what I think, those former middle-class teachers and professionals now living on the street in Argentina have little love for the IMF. It has some of the best educated cab drivers in the world - often university educated, articulate, travelled and intelligent. But because all of this, popular culture in Argentina remains angry at the IMF. Just check out the above artwork, displayed at Mendoza's municipal museum for modern art, and entitled The Queen of the IMF.

2007-03-25T19:23:00.000+01:00

Bingo and other on-board entertainment

So on my bus from Mendoza to Cordoba - which despite the poor geographic logic of going there before heading to Buenos Aires was my next stop - we spent the first hour playing. In this case, we played a bastardized form of bingo that took about 5 times as long as it normally does, because before the bus steward (yup, like on a plane) made the passengers guess what number he had drawn before actually calling out the number.

The above is just one of the many forms of "entertainment" provided on public transport in Latin America. here's a short list of others:
Chile - Steven Sigal movies; best when 3 are played immediately in a row, revealing that the story line is always the same: terrorists threaten America, Steven kicks ass despite impossible odds.
Argentina - by far the best movies and entertainment; if you're lucky, you will catch both a good movies (as in: from the last 6 months and running for an Oscar) and an aspiring stand-up comic - the steward.
Bolivia - indio-pop music blared on bad speakers for a long time against the wishes of every single passenger. Another highlight is Bolivia cinema, although this cannot be found on the buses, which have neither TVs nor bathrooms, but is played on the trains. These movies are just plain horrible, make no sense, and they can't edit sound, so you have no idea what people are saying since it's all filmed in the altiplano, and all you hear is the wind on the microphones. For visual entertainment on buses, here are your options: Watch the landscape go by - very amazing; play spot'em - from whom is the smell originating, and what is it? Fecal matter? Coca leaf? Urine? Industrial solvent?; Watch people pee - the lack of sanitation in this country means people take care of business outside, whether your fellow passengers or people on the side of the road. My favorite so far was a little boy in Potosí, in the middle of the city street, pants around his ankles, scratching his head and his butt. He turned to walk away and fell into the dirt. Priceless.

I'll let you all know what they do in Peru when I get there.

2007-03-20T15:51:00.000Z

On Mendoza

Just a really quick note on Mendoza: It's a really beautiful place, I happen to think it's one of the more attractive places around. It's not that the architecture is spectacular, because it most certainly isn't, but rather each street is lined by trees, there are sort of streams that run in gullies along the sidewalks, and they have some very nice plazas and parks evenly distributed throughout the city. Particularly the central plaza is nice: there is a free museum underground displaying modern art by various Mendocinos, and outside there is an open air market that has artisan crafts from jewelry to bottle holders. At the same time, bands play in the little amphitheater, and various street performers are all around the plaza, showing of their various acts. It's really nice in the evenings.

2007-03-20T15:18:00.000Z

I'm cured!

Ever since arriving in South America, other travelers have been telling me to chill out - apparently I was constantly on the move, or when I was sitting, I couldn't sit still. Anyway, I think this is because of all the work I did in the year before travelling, with balancing IFPRI/Google/ultimate, and then all the double shifts in London. Once I got down here, I always felt that if I wasn't doing something, I was disappointing myself and others, which is a pretty ridiculous notion since this is my trip and I can do or not do whatever I please. As you might imagine, this made the travelling quite grating, and not so pleasant at times, since I always was exhausted.

Once I checked into the hostel in Mendoza, I met a bunch of Chileans and Argentines who were just relaxing in their last days before university or job vacations were to end. After watching me for a day or two, they took it upon themselves to make me relax and get into a more latino pace of life. Well, thanks to their intervention, I have since been able to just hang for a day, not stress too much and maybe just spend an afternoon watching Champions League matches and having a cold beer.

In continuing this theme, I went to the mountains above Mendoza, ad stayed in a small town by the name of Uspallata, where I pretty much just read, lounged in the little river they have, and one day made an excursion to the Puente del Inca, a rock and sulfur formation that spans a river about 2800 meters above sea level. The myth is that the Inca was bringing his sick son to a healer but couldn't cross the river, so his soldiers formed a human bridge over the gap and then turned into the rock formation. It also has some hot thermal sulfur baths that are great for the skin. Or at least had....

Upon arriving at the Puente, it turned out that it has been closed for foot traffic for about a year and a half now. Apparently, the 300,000 visitors a year crossing the bridge have structurally weakened it, and they fear eventual collapse. Moreover, because the thermal baths are on the other side, there really isn't much to do there anymore. So, if you're going to Mendoza - make the Puente part of one of those all day tours where you'll only spend 20 or 30 minutes there.

2007-03-18T21:32:00.000Z

Patience, my friend

Well, so I took a 20 hour bus ride from Bariloche to Mendoza. Or at least it was supposed to be 20 hours. Unfortunately, I awoke in the middle of the night to a stopped bus without heating a.k.a. it was freezing, even wrapped up in 2 sweatshirts, a winter jacket and a winter hat. Moreover, I had no idea why we were stopped.

When I looked outside, I saw that we were on the border of the Province of Mendoza. There were a bunch of signs welcoming people to the province, and signs indicating that spraying had to be undertaken to ward off any transfer of agricultural diseases from province to province. Since it was the middle of the night, I assumed that we were standing because the bus, which had been falling further and further behind schedule during the previous day (for instance, departure had been scheduled for 11 am but didn't happen until 11.45) had simply failed to arrive on time for the spraying and was now waiting for the station to open the next morning. Peeved and to cold to sleep, I resigned myself to reading crack - Harry Potter.

However, when these exceedingly annoying German-speaking girls from the back of the bus asked me what was going on, I vented my frustration over Argentine tardiness in about a 3 minute soliloquy about how the companies need to get their act together. It wasn't pretty, but at least I delivered in German so no one else understood, and even the girls, who had been mocking everything Argentine for the past 12 hours or so (this is what made them annoying) looked taken aback by my reaction.

About 90 minutes later I felt like a total jackass. The on board steward (like on a plane) came upstairs and told us that the replacement bus had arrived, so we could change buses and continue onward. Apparently, we had been stopped due to a mechanical fault in the motor, not incompetence. It made me feel really bad that I had gotten so upset over something that wasn't the fault of either driver or steward.

More importantly, it showed me that I still need to go a long way in relaxing and accepting the daily problematic of travelling in Latin America. In this sense, it was a major eye-opener. And since then, I've really worked hard on relaxing and taking things as they come. Moreover, now that I'm in Bolivia I'm very glad I had that epiphany in Argentina, as travel here is a complete mess. But more on that later.

2007-03-18T21:02:00.000Z

¿Cuando...ahem, Wann? wait, When?

So while in Bariloche, I was walking down the street after getting some groceries, when I was thinking about something I have by now long forgotten. (this was, after all, about a month ago), when suddenly I realized I was thinking about it in Spanish.

That was pretty sweet since I had hopes of really improving my Spanish on this trip. In fact, it was a major motivation. I then thought about the last time I had spoken German or English, and realized I was on my 3rd day of Spanish only. Excellent....

I have to thank the hostel I was staying in, Bolso de Deportes. As I mentioned in my penultimate post, they are real nice and have a lot of information. Moreover, they have great kitchen facilities and comfy beds free of bugs. Most importantly, they attract a great group of people: Mainly Argentines, Chileans, as well as some Europeans (2 Italians who cooked for the whole hostel every night!), and a bunch of cool Basques, as well as friendly Spaniards like Roger. Moreover, the lingua franca of the hostel is Spanish, unlike most other hostels. Although now that I've been through all of Argentina and am in Bolivia, I have to say that the large number of Chileans travelling in Patagonia and generally in the west of the country helps tip the balance in favor Spanish as the main language in hostels, something I missed in Buenos Aires and since.

2007-03-16T02:49:00.000Z

Different forms in different countries

As anyone who has studied South American history knows, Chile and Argentina are traditional enemies. Historically, Argentina has had the upper hand in most respects: It is larger; more fertile; more populous; and its geographic position at the head of the Rio de la Plata and the Atlantic to control exports to Europe. However, the past century has seen a Chilean ascendancy: With the growth of the American West, there was an export market for agricultural products; sitting upon some of the richest fishing grounds in the world (the Humboldt stream), refrigeration and instant freezing allowed for a fishing industry for export; and after annexing the Atacama desert from Bolivia in the War of the Pacific, it was a principal nitrate exporter in the world (this actually was the first of the 3).

Today, many people consider Chile the wealthier of the two countries, and GDP per head confirms this I believe. In fact, these days Chilean businesses actually own major stakes in many Argentine companies - they bought up massively after the 2001 currency collapse. On the other hand, Argentines are proud of their quality of life, and maintain that Chile, for whatever success it's had in the last few decades, lacks much of what makes Argentina a great place to live. Chileans on the other hand praise their incorruptible police (very unlike Argentina - more on this in another post), their responsive government, and their progressive country.

Here's a major difference I've noticed in the "wealth" of the two countries:

Argentina had 150 years of infrastructural investment, starting with the train concessions given to the British. The road network is excellent, you can drink the tap water in just about all parts of the country, and the administrative infrastructure, particularly in regards to agriculture, is great. For instance, contaminated honey can be traced to the hive from which it originated, even if the contamination isn't discovered until months and thousands of miles later, abroad. Moreover, Argentina can produce almost all food needs domestically, due to the incredible breadth of environments within the country. Schools and telephone and internet services exist just about everywhere. Unfortunately, ever since 2001 many of its people have had to live in bitter poverty, although this is visibly becoming better.

Chile on the other hand, has great personal wealth; although many of the places I went still lacked paved roads, people were skeptical of the quality of drinking water, and waste water management remains an "idea to be explored in the future," people had many personal accessories that are great luxuries elsewhere. For instance, a digital camera, though not rare anymore in Argentina, is pretty much standard even for backpackers in Chile. In fact, the whole country was packed with Chileans travelling around - from15 year old girls in brand name gear to families in new cars. And on top of the digital camera, everyone was rocking one some form of m3 player, to boot.

2007-03-13T01:56:00.000Z

Freezing on the Frey

So while I was in Bariloche, I stayed in hostel where a lot of outdoorsy type people stay, and they have good maps and excellent information on a number of outdoor activities in the area. Moreover, the vibe is really laid back and everyone is of "buena onda" i.e. everyone's cool. So one of the popular hikes in the areas takes you from the the base of the main ski area (Cerro Cathedral) to a refugio at 1700m altitude, something that's claimed to take about 4 hours. Refugio Frey is one of the best rock climbing locations in Argentina because of it's rock facades immediately above the lake, or in the adjoining valleys. You can also use it as a jumping-off point for multi-day hikes that eventually take you back down to the town - or at least to places where there's a bus to town a couple times a day.

Although you can do Frey and back as a day hike - although a very tiring one - I was convinced by another guy to go up there for two nights and hang out, maybe borrow someone's equipment and do some climbing. Moreover, the guy I was going to go up there with had a friend who was living on the mountain as a climbing guide. So with that in mind, I headed out from Bariloche with Roger, a cool Spaniard from Barcelona. The two of us being in decent shape (mine in acute decline over the trip, I should mention, but apparently still living off the alumni weekend game), we actually reached the peak in about 1.5 hours less than is considered "normal" - and indeed, we were going fast, with only short breaks.

The refugio itself is a small stone house that sits by a beautiful lake almost entirely surrounded by high rock formations in rough shapes. On one side, it spawns a small stream by the side of the building. You can either stay at the refugio itself, or you can camp alongside the lake. Roger and I pitched our (separate) tents and made our respective soup dinners - he rocked some very good miso, and I was impressed. I instead opted for an old favorite, tomato cream, but is' since come off the list - you will see why.

First of all, my soup didn't really desolve properly, and thus was a little chunky for a cream soup. And almost the moment I finished the soup, I began feeling a little ... funky. Nonetheless, we chilled for a little while longer before retiring to sleep. I however, was having difficulty sleeping, which i chalked up to the cold. Despite my sleeping bag's claim to be comfortable around freezing and work until -8 C, I will at this point acknowledge that the Polish manufacturer is quite frankly wrong. So I was comfortably huddled up in my sleeping bag in sweatshirt, winter hat and pants, but began shaking more and more, in tune to my stomach becoming more and more uncomfortable. Finally, I decide that I needed out of the tent - and quickly. After opening the tent and crawling about 3 feet to the end of the portal, I vomited immediately in front of the tent in the strong wind. A storm was brewing, Roger heard me and asked if I was ok, even came out to check on me. He said he would probably head to the refugio soon, as his tent (a second hand Argentine contraption he'd picked up in Bariloche) wasn't keeping him dry. I instead decided to stick it out in the tent, as the fresh air was actually quite nice. Moreover, having vomited I didn't feel nearly as cold, so I actually was able to fall asleep once I'd crawled back into the tent (my lower half never left the sleeping bag).

Unfortunately for me, neither my stomach nor the weather held. The wind increased more and more, beginning to drive heavy raindrops in front of it, until finally the rain turned into hail. My stomach settled into a rhythm of demanding an "emergency action" every two hours, and so I passed the night in and out of the tent, in and out of the hail.

By the next morning, the weather was foul. Low clouds made climbing impossible, and any views towards above impossible. I slowly packed up my gear, got a tea at the refugio, and began my descent while Roger decided to stay. It took me more than an hour more to descend than it had taken me to climb the mountain, plus I took some long breaks (including a 30 minute nap) and I was a wreck by the time I got down. Luckily for me, a bus to town was leaving just then; unluckily for me, i was at the back of the line, so I had to stand, making me feel like I was going to either get sick again or faint.

I'm glad I went down that day though: the next day there were 20 cm of snow at the Frey that had fallen overnight, which made for beautiful pictures (Roger showed me), but would have been a miserable descent in my sneakers. On the upside, from Barloche itself, the views were spectacular: Instead of either green or brown mountain tops, all around the city and the lake the hills were crowned in white.

That's summer in Patagonia.

2007-03-06T04:41:00.000Z

Fixed the comments settings

yeah, so I went the was of House and have opened up comments to all readers, reardless of blogger membership. So feel free to leave me a note, or as always, you can hit up the email.

2007-03-05T19:28:00.000Z

Oh Argentina, you're so silly

One thing about Argentina that I'd forgotten is how totally incomprehensible illogical some organizational aspects of this country are. Or rather, what lack of simple common sense underlies these administrative decisions. I was immediately confronted with two examples in the first 3 hours in the country:

You can't trade Chilean to Argentine pesos in Chaitén. I doubt you can in Futaleufú, but since the bus from Chaitén arrives after the bank closes, and the morning bus to the border goes before it opens, it wasn't possible for me, even if there is general availability. The border of course is in the middle of nowhere, and so you are dependent on the bus to get you from there to the nearest towns of Trevelin or Ezquel. However, this bus costs money, and can only be paid in local currency, which you can't get anywhere within 2 days travel of the border. Wonderful, and well thought out Argentina.

So I was able to overcome the above problem through the generosity of two other travelers (2 Israeli girls, actually). Unfortunately for both them and me, when we arrived at Ezquel, it turned out that the nearest ATM is about a km away. So I rushed off to get cash and repay them as well as buy my onward bus ticket. So with my heavy backpack, I began running down the street until I finally reached the first ATM, where there were approximately a bazillion people were standing in line to use it - a common Latin American feature, I might add. So having waited it out to use the machine, I then sprinted back to the bus station, because I had a feeling that I would miss the next bus if I didn't.

By the time I had returned to the bus station, the bus had already left. (this resulted in a 6 hour layover for me, and non-payment of my debt even though I spent part of the next day going hostel to hostel looking for the girls). So here's my question: How do two such obvious points of interest not appeal to independent ATM operators who charge a small fee? If not at the border, then at least at the bus station where people from abroad arrive? And it's not like the bus station was old and didn't have space. The thing was brand new, in gorgeous condition, and all other traveller amenities were built in, including a rather large internet cafe. But in a country where a quite a number of bus operators do not take credit/debit cards, or where the window of time between arrival and departure is designed to be small, you would quite simply expect something like an ATM, which would make so much sense.

So, Argentina: Why are you so silly?

2007-02-27T21:45:00.000Z

Chaitén -> Futaleufú -> Ezquel -> Bariloche

After my tent pole snapped in Chaitén, it was clear to me that I wouldn't be able to repair it on the carretera austral, because quite frankly, there really isn't anything there. So instead of sulking about the tent and my rapidly disappearing money, I decided to make a move for the border and get my rear over the cordillera and into Argentina, which at the very least has to be cheaper then Chile, right? So I spent the following morning checking out the local museum - dedicated to the construction of the carretera and local settlement, and based on the army base that is responsible for road maintenance and construction - and a nearby waterfall before taking the one daily bus to Futaleufú which serves as the border. I'd already realized that I lack the equipment to undertake Torres del Paine, so I know I'll be back to Chile. (Christoph und Steph, falls ihr das hier liesst ist das der direkte Aufruf, mit mir naechsten Dezember/Januar in Suedamerika Wandern und Bergsteigen zu gehen.)

The ride from Chaitén to Futa is amazing. The dirt track winds its way through pristine temperate rain forests/pine forests, which are crowned by glowing blue glaciers on the mountains above - and shimmering blue lakes below. The ride takes about 6 hours for the 100 or so km, and of course, it gets dusty in the bus. By the time I reached Futa it was too late to cross the border, so I had to find a boarding house, which I was able to do. The following morning I caught an 8 am ride to the Chilean border post, and then on to the Argentine border post. I have been told that crossing this border can be very stressful - stressful to the tune of 3-4 hours between Santiago and Mendoza, where every piece of luggage is x-rayed and hand luggage searched by hand. However, at the Futa crossing, you drop your backpack on the lawn in front of the border post, walk in, and get your passport stamped. They don't even give you the little piece of paper you need to leave the country again! When I asked them about it, they said they didn't do that there, and none of the other extranjeros (because most people crossing there were) hadn't received one either, so I figured I wasn't being picked on more than others, and didn't aggravate the guards any more. For people who have extremely little to do, they seemed quite irritable about their low workload. As for luggage being stolen, it's really not possible: although I wouldn't trust the guards standing outside to stop theft, everyone there is waiting on the bus (and by everyone, I mean all 20 people) so it's not like the thief could make off with your stuff.

As soon as the passport is stamped, one realizes that one is in Argentina. How, you probably are asking? Well, the bus is late..... very argentino. About 45 minutes late, which is impressive for a bus that only has to go about 2 hours total. So everyone lounges around on the front lawn, waiting for the bus, with a number of people drinking mate.

Once on the bus, it turns out each passenger needs to pay either a) 10 pesos to get to Trevelin, which is useless or 15 pesos to get to Ezquel, from where buses run north and south. Oh, and they don't accept payment in Chilean pesos. This presented a considerable challenge to me, as the only arg. pesos I had remaining were the change I had left in my wallet when I left the country after studying abroad there more than 2 years ago. Basically, I had 10 pesos, but getting stuck in Trevelin was not an option as far as I was concerned, particularly as I did not know whether they have cash machines there (probability: fair, desire to be stuck if wrong: zero). So I figured I'd do what probably every other mochilero (backpacker) in my position would do: I hit up the other mochileros for help. And indeed, the first group, two Israeli girls) were willing to spot me a 5er, and I promised them to go straight to the ATM in Ezquel in order to pay them back.

Eventually, I arrived in Bariloche that night after an unexpectedly long lay over in Ezquel. However, during that time I was able to get replacement/fixing parts for my tent pole, as Prachee had kindly been in touch with the tent makers and gotten instructions on how to get around the problem. I walked to a nearby hardware store, and about 20 minutes later I not only had what I needed to fix the break, but 4 additional pieces of the same piping in order to repair any future breaks, should they occur. When I asked the guy what I owed him, he just shrugged and laughed. The way he saw it, the 20 cm of copper piping weren't even ringing up, since they usually sell by the dozen meters to construction companies. Sweet, already the argentines were living up to another stereotype, that of the friendly outgoing middle class. And also, the stereotype of disorganization/general nonsensical organization, which I will elaborate on at another point.

Finally, I caught the 5 hour bus to Bariloche, where I arrived exhausted at about midnight, as 5 hours in Argentina actually means that the bus will leave 30 minutes late, and it will take five and a half hours to arrive. Arriving in Bariloche at night at the height of the tourist season really isn't a problem - if you have a reservation. I of course did not have a reservation. Normally when you arrive at a bus station, there are people standing around offering you alojamiento (housing) in any number of hostels, hotels, and home stays. Unfortunately, at Bariloche there wasn't a single offer, which generally means everything is full. Faced by this unexpectedly bad situation, I swung my heavy pack on my back and began the 4 km walk into the town center. As usual, my luck held and the first place I asked at actually had one bed remaining, though by that time I'd already spend 45 minutes walking, sweating, through some good and some less-than spectacular neighborhoods worrying about the prospect of being on the street for the night, because although I had the replacement pieces for the tent, I had not yet had the opportunity to make the repairs. It was called Bolsa de Deportes, and I would seriously recommend that hostel. However, I was exhausted, went out for a quick lomito, and hit the hay.

2007-02-24T03:46:00.001Z

Sovereignty, Electricity, and the North Face - Parque Pumalin

Well, as most of you are probably aware of, not everyone thinks that nature parks are a great thing. In the West, this seems to be primarily the misguided notion of extraction industry idiots who would like to drill, mine, and clear-cut every possible part of the earth in order to enrich themselves without regard for the loss of natural environment which may or may not be permanent and affects everyone, generation for generation int the future. I think there is little validity to these people's arguments, as they are overwhelmingly selfish. However, in the developing world, there are oftentimes other arguments against preserving land and environmental habitats from human interference. On the one hand, amost always when LDCs (lesser developed countries) consider creating such environmental sanctuaries, they must also consider the impact on indigenous populations that have lived there for hundreds of years, if not longer. Moreover, politicians argue that the West developed due to its exttractionist use of its environmental resources, so it is unfair to expect LDCs to remain in poverty just because the rich want some nature preserveed - after all, they've already destroyed all of theirs. So it might be fair to say that poor countries are at times unwilling or financially unable to create nature parks.

Well thank God for the Washington consensus and the spread of capitalism - or maybe not, you'll have to make up your own opinion:
In South America, there remain a lot of natural environments that are still predominantly intact, though under constant threat of human destruction. With all the corruption and political popularism, it is also unlikely that governments will step in to effetively preserve what reamins of the often unique natural splendor placed under their care. Then there are immensely rich Westerners who are environmentalists. Now I'm sure you've all been asked by an organization, friend, or chain email at one point or another to support the purchase of an acre or two of threatened Amazon rainforest. Maybe you participated; maybe you didn't. Maybe you saw that call for action and thought to yourself "I won't do that, but I'll buy hundreds of thousands of acres of equally threatened land in order to prevent human exploitation. I'll pay for the park rangers and prosecute anyone who dares operate on my land by using my highly paid lawyers. In effect, I'll do what the government can't or won't do." If that quote sounds like you, youmight be called Douglas Tompkins.

Douglas Tompkins first made a name for himself by co-founding an outdoor gear company called the North Face. As you can imagine, he made a pretty penny from that when he sold his stake. He then went on to found Esprit du Corps, netting him some more cash. And then he dicided he would start buying land in order to preserve it. In the early 90s, his now wife - the former manager of Patagonia outerwear, and not too cash strapped herself - joined him in the quest. They have purchased huge tracts of land in Argentina and Chile, some of which they have turned over to the respective governement in return for promises of conservation.

One of the most controversial land purchases Tompkins has been involved in is now the Parque Pumalin, just to the north of Chaiten, Chile (and several hours south of the much larger Puerto Montt). This park sits at the northern end of Chilean patagonia. It is also a contentious issue for the local and national governments: Because the park stretches from the border with Argentina to the ocean, some argue that it represents a threat to sovereignty; because locals are no longer permitted access to the resources within the park, some argue it is a threat to the local way of life; because a huge power company wants to build a massive hydroelectric plant on the Futaleufú river to the south of the park but most the target population lies to the north of it, some argue that it impedes development as Tompkins will not allow power lines to be built across the park. At the same time, the park protects remote mountain peaks down to ragged coastline, in a cold, inhospitable climate where even the summer is rainy and, for the most art, pretty cool as I experienced myself. Nonetheless, this temperate rainforest is full of living creatures and beautiful plants, and no other park exists in this part of Chile. However, the Chilean government, which in principle seems to agree that the preservation of its natural treasures is a worthwhile cause, recently refused the sale of a large tract of land to the Parque Pumalin Foundation, instead selling it for less money to a different bidder. I think this is an interesting case where local, regional, national, and personal interests clash. It is also the conflict between human expansion and environmental protection. Below I will take a look at some of the arguments that are made about this park.

The argument of sovreignty:
Because Parque Pumalin goes from the border with Argentina to the ocean, critics argue that the country has been sliced in two, and that in case of armed emergency (say, a war with Argentina) troop movements would be impossible. I personally think this argument is bogus. While I can understand the sentiment, in an armed emergency martial law would certainly provide the military with the legal authority to cross the area. Moreover, the Carretera Austral, which I've already mentioned, runs through the park already, which means there is the means of crossing from north to south, and vice versa. The weak point in the link is the ferry system, because from the north of the park one must take a ferry to the main part of Chile. I think this argument is just plain xenophobic and has little validity as clearly, it is possible to traverse the park.

The argument of local custom:
Some people say the park has affected locals' abilities to take advantage of resources in the area and has changed the way of life. Once again, I think this argument is somewhat faulty. For one, you need to consider that 15 years ago, when the carretera austral first connected the town of Chaiten to the north, only a few hundred people lived there (now it's somewhere between 6000 and 10,000, people's opinions differed on that matter). Basically, the people would only have been able to access whatever resources for about 2-3 years before the park was opened. Moreover, the same people who argue against the park do not argue against the carretera austral, which had a far more profound influence on the life in Chaiten and surrounding areas than the opening of the park. The only people I can imagine being affected are fishermen, but I don't think that the park includes the ocean-based resources.

The argument of development:
A large power company wants to build a dam on the Futaleufú river and run the power north to Puerto Varas and surrounding areas, some of the fastest growing parts of Chile. I think this idea is flawed in two major ways: For one, the Futaleufú (or Futa) is considered South America's best rating, and already supports a solid economy based on that, although it remains small compared to other places because it is so remote. To undermine this local economy - which is environmentally sustainable - in order to help an already quickly growing area grow even faster seems unjust to those who have invested in the Futa. Secondly, even if the company were to build the dam, it could run the electricity through Argentina: Futa is only a few miles from the border, and there are ample crossings further north between the Bariloche area and Puerto Varas area. Once again, the only argument against this is sovreignty, because the Chileans don't feel they can trust the Argentines due to their history of animosity. I think they should both just get over themselves and sign a long-term peace deal, demilitarize their countries (seriously, who's going to give them trouble? Evo Morales or Chavez? The US has tons of "military advisors" a.k.a. special forces units in Bolivia and Colombia, and would love a reason to intervene in either country...) and invest in their human capital.

As you can probably tell, I side with Tompkins, although I don't think I'd particularly like him in person. I think he has every right to invest in property and manage it as a nature reserve if he wants. That's the result of opening the local markets to capitalism and foreign investment - foreigners have the same rights as locals. Chile chose this path for itself, and I don't think Tompkins should be treated any differnetly than foreign franchisees of fast food chains which are ubiquitos in downtown Santiago. And here's the real clicher for me: He has offered to turn the property over to the Chilean government if they recognize it as a national park and protect it as such. They don't want to do that, so the property stays in Tompkins hands. When they are ready, he'll return it to Chileans, but if they don't want to protect it, don't fault him for trying to do so.

2007-02-24T03:37:00.000Z

Hi, Aunt Flo

And it wasn't the visitor from South Park.... but the appearance is just as unnerving as the disappearance.

Sometimes the flow of events isn't what you want it to be, and it just comes up and jumps you. This happened in Chaitén. I was there to camp and hike in the controversial Parque Pumalin (and I will give a more detailed discussion of the issues involved in another post). The night I arrived my tent pole snapped, leaving me about as super-homeless as someone who doesn't live in any one place can be. That was a huge downer. And being on the Carretera Austral meant I couldn't get the replacement pieces I needed.

2007-02-20T23:20:00.000Z

Chilly Chiloe to Chaitén

So I went to the special southern island of Chiloe (Chile), which is supposed to be "remarkably different" from the rest of the country. Now, if this were from the guide book once again, I wouldn't really be surprised to find that this is untrue. However, everywhere I met Chileans, they confirmed this, usually be pointing out that `si no has visto a Chiloe, no fuiste en Chile´ (if you haven't seen chiloe, you haven't been to Chile). Well, you know what.... it's just like the rest of Chile. Really no big difference from the other parts of the country, except that it rains more than elsewhere.

However, Chiloe wasn't all bad. For one thing, I ran into Ed - a real cool English cat I met in Pucón - on the street. We laughed ourselves stupid when we realized later that night that we'd just bought a bottle of Pisco and two liters of Coke for 3 quid, then engaged in some excellent conversation while the owner of my hostel kept referring to us as her hijos (sons).

I also went camping on the beach of Parque Nacional Chiloe. It rained intermittently all night (in fact, it seemed to rain every two hours 24 hours a day there) and camped in some massive sand dunes near a huge beach. I thought it was freezing cold, but someone else I was travelling with decided to go swimming, and by swimming I mean dip in the freezing water. It generally was quite cool/cold in Chiloe, I might add, and once I get all my photos and videos posted, you'll all see what I mean.

Eventually, I decided to head towards the Carretera Austral. The C.A. has to be pretty unique in the world. It's a 1200 km road - mostly dirt and gravel - that runs South from Puerto Montt to Villa O'Higgins. Throughout the journey, the road winds through ageless temperate rainforests and beteen huge glaciers, and even during summer months can become impassable due to it's high rainfall. As the military museum at Chaitén regarding this massive undertaking points out, there really wasn't much economic justification for the decades and dollars spent on the project - it pretty much was just something Pinochet really wanted to do. And as dictators are wanton to do, he did.

In order to get to Chaitén, I took a ferry from Chaiten. now, ever since I had started travelling with Breanne a week earlier, she had been a big proponent of going to see penguins. I've already had massive penguin exposure in Ushuia, the pictures from which should be up on facebook. Anyway, I wasn't really that keen on the feathery little fellows, so I maged to defer any specific trips to see them. However, sitting on the ferry, talking to this German guy I'd met at the hostel the night before, I looked over the side of the ship and casualy asked "aren't those penguins?" And indeed, in those lattitudes penguins simply raom around, trying to find some grub. Anyway, we both started getting up so we'd have a better look when this little Chilean girl figuered out what we were talking about. She thus started a full sprint towards the side of the ship. While this may not sound alarming, I'd like to point out at this point that the ship lacked true railings - all they had were two thin chains, with plenty of space for a little child to slip through and fall into the cold, cold water. Luckily, her father intercepted her before anything happened, and she certainly enjoyed the sight of the penguins - I think she was still laughing and shrieking a full 30 minutes after we saw the last of them. I, in the mean time, vowed to keep all comments about so-called "adorible animals" to a minimum from then on.

2007-02-20T22:35:00.000Z

This isn't what I signed up for

All the guide books agree. I will paraphrase, but basically, they all say: "Chile's lake district is probably the most beautiful place you'll ever visit. And it's totally unique."

Well, I disagree, and because I went to the area based on that description, I feel cheated. Imagine going to watch agent Zero and him putting up a big zero for the game. Or worse, getting married and finding your now-husband aseep next to Q.P. Livingston before the night is out. But before you file this away as a random rant, let me explain myself.

Beyond doubt the lake district is amazingly beautiful. However, as I and a number of other (German) travellers have agreed upon, it is not that different from the Alpenvorland in southwestern Germany. However, there is one remarble difference: There are active volanos here! I guess I shouldn't really belittle that difference, since, you know, they can kill you. And indeed, as more time passes betwen my having been there and my thinking about it, I do realize how spectuacular that region was, especially compared to dry browns that constitute most of Argentina.

2007-02-17T15:38:00.000Z

Pucón: Worse than fly tape

You know that double sided fly tape you can hang from above, but is really easy to get stuck to? And then once you're stuck to it, it's really hard to free yourself, and you'll definitly be left with some of that sticky residue on your skin, clothes, and hair? Well, maybe you aren't as physically inept as I am, but that's how it is for me.

Anyway, I went to a place in the Chilean Lake District called Pucón, a town that exists because and for tourism, and serves as a base for a number of outdoor activities. Located on the shores of the lake Villarrica and immediately beneath the smoking cone of the volcano Villarrica, it is set amongst mountain, lush fields and verdant forests of ancient Auracacia trees. It is without doubt a beautiful place, with low houses, many made of wood and a semaforo del vulcán - a volcano traffic light that indecates how soon you might die a.k.a. if it's safe to climb the volcano.

Well, Lonely Planet and all the other guides warn that this town in "easy to get stuck in," and they definitely aren't lying. I originally planned on staying only 2 nights, but I think I ended up staying 5 and ended up just leaving out of fear that I'd end up there for another week. At the same time, because it is a tourist town, the cost of living there is about the same as in the US - NYC not included. In return, it offers a lot however: many day trips into the surounding area, climbing the volcano (more on that at another time), a black rock beach on a gorgeous lake, and an incredible nightlife.

Definitely woth a visit, but be warmed of the flytape - I'm still being drawn back there weeks and thousands of kilometers later.

2007-02-11T21:46:00.000Z

Reflections on Chile

Well, I was going to call this post "reflections on Pinochet's legacy" but I think that's a little over the top and unnecessary. Nonetheless, the results of Pinochet's rule are visible everywhere in Chile today.

For those of you who are less politically inclined, Pinochet was the one-time military dictator of Chile who took power in a bloody putsch in 1973, supported, among others, by the Central Intelligence Agency - yet another example of the "home of the free" doing all it can to deny others freedom. He deposed the democratically elected Salvador Allende, a Socialist. But you don't need to get your history lesson here, there are plenty of places you can find this information if you're more interested. (Pinochet also is an interesting example of international human rights justice. During his dirty war, many thousands disappeared or left the country. He was later granted immunity for life in Chile, but a Spanish judge was able to get him arrested in London on a Spanish warrant for abuses against Spanish citizens. It was a big deal.)

Anyway, Pinochet pushed through some very pro-business, pro-US reforms that sparked the economic upturn in his country that is now among the wealthiest in Latin America, although there as elsewhere people feel that the middle class is being squeezed out. As a result, Chile today is strongly reminiscent of Spain, among other places. Whereas the ownership of a digital camera in Argentina two years ago was definitely something that drew attention, it sees that in Chile everyone has one, and some kind of mp3 player, to boot. In reality, the country hardly feels Latin American: despite the at times appalling infrastructure (lots of dirt roads, and weak septic systems, for instance) the appearance of people, and even more shockingly to me, the costs, were extremely high, close to US levels even. This was particularly true in Santiago as well as a number of tourist destinations around the country.

Another aspect of Chile that differentiates it from everything else I've experienced or heard about South America is A) the general safety of the country and B) the low level of police corruption; I don't think these two factors are arbitrary. While Isabel Allende's "House of Spirits" suggests that police corruption in Chile was minor even before Pinochet's regime, it now it virtually unheard of. I spoke to a lot of Chileans and asked them about it, as my experiences in Argentina have prepared me for bribing, if necessary. All of the Chileans strongly recommended that in Chile, of confronted by an officer, it is better to just go to jail - according to them, an attempt at bribery will only land you in a ton more trouble. It also is clear that Chileans take great pride in this. However, they understand that "western" attitudes about Latin America are such that they really aren't that upset when you ask about it. I thought it was interesting that they were so accustomed to the prejudice towards their law enforcement, but it probably comes from their own experiences in the countries to the North and East of them....

As for general safety, I'd say Chile was definitely, 100% safer than Washington, DC. Not that that's really saying much, but it's also safer than any other place I can think of in Europe or North America. In a lot of towns, people just leave their hiking backpacks sitting on the street, sometimes for hours; I don't really think I saw many bikes locked up; and there's tons of teenage girls travelling alone, camping. In general, although there were a lot foreigners travelling in the country, their numbers were dwarfed by the number of Chileans on the road. Of course, it was summer vacation, but nonetheless, there were many groups of 2 or 3 14/15 year-olds going across the country with a sleeping bags and a tent, including a group of 4 totally clueless kids trying to hitchhike on the Carretera Austral, a 1200km road that winds itself through some truly inhospitable but absolutely beautiful lanscape in the south of the country. You definitely wouldn't see that kind of behaviour in the US, at least not with the same frequency, or so it seems to me.

2007-02-11T21:06:00.000Z

¡Bienvenidos a la locura!

Welcome, one and all, speakers of all different languages to my blog about my experiences travelling once around the world. I will assume for practicality's sake that most people reading this know me in one form or another and will spare you - the reader - a self indulging soliloquy. If you don't but would like to know more, holler via email.

I've decided that the format here will be less focused on sequential storytelling than on the relating of various observations or anecdotes of experiences that have occurred and will occur to me over the next few months.

Just to give you an idea of the path of my travels, here is a rough outline:
December 18, 2006 - January 23, 2007; USA
January 23, 2007 - June 15, 2006; South America
June 17, 2007 - June 25, 2007; New Zealand
June 26, 2007 - August 8; Thailand to Moscow overland via Beijing

Obviously, it's still early in my trip, and plans are plans....they can easily change, either intentionally or due to circumstance, some of which I've already experienced since I arrived in Chile.

Well, I'll stop boring you with logistics and get to narrating.