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.

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.

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)

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.

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

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:

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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....

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!

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.

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!

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...

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.

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.

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.

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.