Since we lost a majority of our soccer players (and I'm not sure where I'll be in the next few months), our co-ed soccer team didn't attempt a third season at the YMCA. Instead, I started looking online for random pickup games. Yesterday was my first pickup soccer game and there were striking differences from the organized games that I've grown accustomed to. Instead of a sport ladened by nugatory rules and regulations, it felt like futbol the way it was meant to be played.
On Monday night, a friend and I went to the designated spot and approached a motley group, asking if it was the same meetup group that posted online. A terse "Yes" was all that was said from one of the players.
The group of random people consisted of all age groups, genders, and ability. They gathered for the sole purpose of playing a good game; there were no introductions of names, rules, or even a single referee. Almost instinctively, teams formed with dark shirts vs. light shirts and the game began instantly.
What I found most interesting was that there were no limits on 'ball touches' based on gender. In most of my past co-ed games, guys were usually limited to three to four 'touches' of the ball before someone else needed to touch the ball. This forced limited ball control with guys while girls had unlimited touches. The rule implied that all guys were more proficient than all girls. I found it to be an antiquated concept that could easily be seen by certain girls who could dribble endlessly around talented guy players.
It felt incredible playing without the imposed handicap. It was mentally and physically rewarding in that I didn't have to count each touch. If a ball came high, I wouldn't have to worry about using my chest to stop the ball (first touch), kneeing the ball to gain control (second touch), and begin dribbling (third touch), before I needed to pass the ball (fourth touch). Throughout the night, I was able to use my speed to catch up to attackers or to pass defenders, and I had unlimited touches to control the ball!
For the majority of the game, I played defense with a random stranger that happened to hang out back with me. With no goalie, we were able to defend with 2 defenders versus 2-5 attackers. Although I had never met this person before, we were able to read each other's moves and cohesively defend against the odds. Without a word, one of us would cut off the pass while the other would rush the ball. For the first hour, they hadn't scored at all while we scored over 3 goals.
It was bizarre how few words were communicated throughout the night. There were a few shouts of "Man on", "You have help on your back", or "Across". It was just pure soccer. We started playing with sunlight and left at night, with cars flashing their high beams onto the otherwise unlit field.
Everyone played clean and we finally called it a night (promptly after someone was accidentally kicked from the lack of visibility). We all exchanged concise "good game" goodbyes and left as quickly as the game had started.
Showing posts with label Stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Stories. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Monday, July 26, 2010
Altitude Sickness
I took a few more languid steps, then stopped again to catch my breath. At 11,000 ft of elevation, my head felt swollen and each additional movement felt like a hammer pounding against my skull. With only 500 ft. of elevation gain left, we would summit the mountain. After 5 arduous hours of steadily climbing uphill, I didn't want to turn around when we were so close.
However, I couldn't physically keep going either. For the past mile, I felt dizzy and nauseous. As I kept pushing myself, my chest started feeling pains. It was shortly followed with some dry heaving. I finally asked my partner to hike up ahead so she could summit while I would wait in the cool shade. She declined, insisting that we head back down immediately. I reluctantly agreed and we started the 8 mile journey downhill.
I've been on hikes up to 10,000 ft elevation before and would consistently get headaches. However, whenever I started the descent, I would immediately feel better. Any signs of altitude sickness would pass by the time I descended a few thousand feet. This wasn't the case.
Going down, my body still felt so depleted of oxygen that I would need breaks to catch my breath. To make matters worse, the dry heaving and headache didn't stop. My stomach started to knot up in pain. It wasn't an easy descent, but we finally made it to the car. The headache and shortness of breath lingered even when I was sitting in the car.
After a hot meal and a good nights rest, I still felt the effects of altitude sickness. My mind felt slow and I had trouble thinking. I made a visit to the doctor and took the remaining part of the day off work.
As I laid on my couch drinking gatorade, I watched "North Face", a movie about two German climbers and their daring ascent of the north face of the Swiss massif - The Eiger. It was a gripping story.
I look at the climbing gear in 1932, with no synthetic materials to wick away sweat, no carbon fiber ice picks, and no climbing helmets. Climbing has come a long way since then. Despite the advances in technology, Mother Nature is still as fierce and real as ever.
However, I couldn't physically keep going either. For the past mile, I felt dizzy and nauseous. As I kept pushing myself, my chest started feeling pains. It was shortly followed with some dry heaving. I finally asked my partner to hike up ahead so she could summit while I would wait in the cool shade. She declined, insisting that we head back down immediately. I reluctantly agreed and we started the 8 mile journey downhill.
I've been on hikes up to 10,000 ft elevation before and would consistently get headaches. However, whenever I started the descent, I would immediately feel better. Any signs of altitude sickness would pass by the time I descended a few thousand feet. This wasn't the case.
Going down, my body still felt so depleted of oxygen that I would need breaks to catch my breath. To make matters worse, the dry heaving and headache didn't stop. My stomach started to knot up in pain. It wasn't an easy descent, but we finally made it to the car. The headache and shortness of breath lingered even when I was sitting in the car.
After a hot meal and a good nights rest, I still felt the effects of altitude sickness. My mind felt slow and I had trouble thinking. I made a visit to the doctor and took the remaining part of the day off work.
As I laid on my couch drinking gatorade, I watched "North Face", a movie about two German climbers and their daring ascent of the north face of the Swiss massif - The Eiger. It was a gripping story.
I look at the climbing gear in 1932, with no synthetic materials to wick away sweat, no carbon fiber ice picks, and no climbing helmets. Climbing has come a long way since then. Despite the advances in technology, Mother Nature is still as fierce and real as ever.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Homeless Steve
It's been relatively hot in San Diego. The weather isn't so bad compared to other places in the world, but when you're confined to living inside a small Toyota Tacoma, it gets pretty unbearable. The afternoon heat regularly melts the sticky velcro on my truck's curtains and I'm constantly needing to reassemble it at night when the weather has cooled down a few degrees.
I've been thinking about different solutions to the heat problem and in theory have come up with using Reflectix, a radiant barrier (poor transmitter of infrared waves) that is commonly used in homes. The problem is locating where I can buy a small quantity at a low price (I'm trying to be frugal after all).
I was on the way to Target in search of the material when I spotted a dirty white colored van sitting isolated in the parking lot. The location made perfect sense despite being in the wide open parking lot:
1.) It was far enough from any particular business that normal shoppers wouldn't disturb the person(s) inside the van
2.) Even business owners might think that the van's owner was simply shopping at another location
I pulled around and decided to investigate further. I slowly circled the vehicle and did a quick analysis. The side curtains were drawn, but the windows were open. The back door was cracked to allow ventilation, but not enough to directly see inside. Laying across the roof was a cargo box and an open vent. Even though I couldn't physically see in it, I was confident someone was living in the vehicle.
I stopped a few parking stalls away from the van and approached the vehicle on foot. I wasn't sure how to start off a conversation so I loudly asked "Hi, is anyone in there?". As soon as the words left my mouth, I immediately felt bad; I probably startled the hell out of this person. I heard some faint scrambling noises inside.
I quickly followed it up by saying that I've been living out of my truck for the last month and that I wasn't a guard or a tow truck guy. I continued to have a one way conversation explaining that I came to ask for some advice on escaping the summer heat. After a couple minutes of what felt like talking to a rock, I saw a bearded man in his late 50's pop out into the driver's seat.
The homeless guy was friendly and said, "Hey, I didn't see you there. How's it going? So you're homeless too? Where's your truck?"
I pointed to my truck and explained my setup. He confirmed what I learned in my past month homeless; trucks are good for blending into an environment, but aren't good for extended homeless stays (since you don't have enough room to do anything in it). His opinion was that I wasn't going to last in the truck for long.
We traded notes on how we've been living so far. I told him some of my stories and favorite/worst places to park. He had a good laugh on my 'exploration' of sleeping areas, which included Wal-Marts and near police stations. He commented that parking in Wal-Mart lots would inevitably get your vehicle towed, but that parking at a McDonalds overnight never caused him any trouble.
He was quite frank on how he lived. He said that if he needed to pee, he peed in a giant fast food cup lying around. If he needed to go number two, he just used a plastic bag and threw it into a nearby trash can. He kept constantly moving to make sure that police didn't catch him (since it was illegal to live in a car).
As we continued talking in the blistering heat, I got a better idea about the guy; he had a raw, primal, and sincerely simple energy about him. He seemed like he could live off of practically nothing (which he probably did). There's something about a person that can take a shit into a plastic bag and not worry about things like hand sanitizer. Despite logic, the man had survived five years of van dwelling; even the 'necessities' that I thought I needed weren't really that necessary. (FYI: I respect his living style, but am not anywhere near adopting many of his lifestyle philosophies)
He had bought his vehicle for approximately $2000 about 10 years ago and has lived in it ever since. He was vague about how he got into his 'situation', but as we got deeper into our conversation, he expressed genuine fears about how anxious he was getting. At times he'd lose sleep over whether his car would start up the next day.
As soon as his car can't start up, he'd be dead in the water. He would be towed and wouldn't have the money to bail his car out. He explained that even though he didn't have many material possessions and despite how meager those possessions were, it was still all he had. He said that he was getting too old for living in his car and was finally looking for a place to stay.
I wished him luck in getting a room to rent. Before I walked away, I asked him what his name was. He replied "Steve" and I thanked him for readily sharing his sage advice. I extended my hand, ready to shake his, when both of us glanced at each other. For a second, we shared a telepathic link that said "Oh yeah, Steve shits in plastic bags in his car". I instantly retracted my hand shake and waved goodbye, saying "I'll see you around... maybe at a McDonalds parking lot."
Good luck Steve, I wish you the best.
I've been thinking about different solutions to the heat problem and in theory have come up with using Reflectix, a radiant barrier (poor transmitter of infrared waves) that is commonly used in homes. The problem is locating where I can buy a small quantity at a low price (I'm trying to be frugal after all).
I was on the way to Target in search of the material when I spotted a dirty white colored van sitting isolated in the parking lot. The location made perfect sense despite being in the wide open parking lot:
1.) It was far enough from any particular business that normal shoppers wouldn't disturb the person(s) inside the van
2.) Even business owners might think that the van's owner was simply shopping at another location
I pulled around and decided to investigate further. I slowly circled the vehicle and did a quick analysis. The side curtains were drawn, but the windows were open. The back door was cracked to allow ventilation, but not enough to directly see inside. Laying across the roof was a cargo box and an open vent. Even though I couldn't physically see in it, I was confident someone was living in the vehicle.
I stopped a few parking stalls away from the van and approached the vehicle on foot. I wasn't sure how to start off a conversation so I loudly asked "Hi, is anyone in there?". As soon as the words left my mouth, I immediately felt bad; I probably startled the hell out of this person. I heard some faint scrambling noises inside.
I quickly followed it up by saying that I've been living out of my truck for the last month and that I wasn't a guard or a tow truck guy. I continued to have a one way conversation explaining that I came to ask for some advice on escaping the summer heat. After a couple minutes of what felt like talking to a rock, I saw a bearded man in his late 50's pop out into the driver's seat.
The homeless guy was friendly and said, "Hey, I didn't see you there. How's it going? So you're homeless too? Where's your truck?"
I pointed to my truck and explained my setup. He confirmed what I learned in my past month homeless; trucks are good for blending into an environment, but aren't good for extended homeless stays (since you don't have enough room to do anything in it). His opinion was that I wasn't going to last in the truck for long.
We traded notes on how we've been living so far. I told him some of my stories and favorite/worst places to park. He had a good laugh on my 'exploration' of sleeping areas, which included Wal-Marts and near police stations. He commented that parking in Wal-Mart lots would inevitably get your vehicle towed, but that parking at a McDonalds overnight never caused him any trouble.
He was quite frank on how he lived. He said that if he needed to pee, he peed in a giant fast food cup lying around. If he needed to go number two, he just used a plastic bag and threw it into a nearby trash can. He kept constantly moving to make sure that police didn't catch him (since it was illegal to live in a car).
As we continued talking in the blistering heat, I got a better idea about the guy; he had a raw, primal, and sincerely simple energy about him. He seemed like he could live off of practically nothing (which he probably did). There's something about a person that can take a shit into a plastic bag and not worry about things like hand sanitizer. Despite logic, the man had survived five years of van dwelling; even the 'necessities' that I thought I needed weren't really that necessary. (FYI: I respect his living style, but am not anywhere near adopting many of his lifestyle philosophies)
He had bought his vehicle for approximately $2000 about 10 years ago and has lived in it ever since. He was vague about how he got into his 'situation', but as we got deeper into our conversation, he expressed genuine fears about how anxious he was getting. At times he'd lose sleep over whether his car would start up the next day.
As soon as his car can't start up, he'd be dead in the water. He would be towed and wouldn't have the money to bail his car out. He explained that even though he didn't have many material possessions and despite how meager those possessions were, it was still all he had. He said that he was getting too old for living in his car and was finally looking for a place to stay.
I wished him luck in getting a room to rent. Before I walked away, I asked him what his name was. He replied "Steve" and I thanked him for readily sharing his sage advice. I extended my hand, ready to shake his, when both of us glanced at each other. For a second, we shared a telepathic link that said "Oh yeah, Steve shits in plastic bags in his car". I instantly retracted my hand shake and waved goodbye, saying "I'll see you around... maybe at a McDonalds parking lot."
Good luck Steve, I wish you the best.
Monday, June 8, 2009
Futbol
I met my team five minutes before the game started. I knew a few of them, but for the most part, we were still trying to figure out each others' names when we got onto the field. Names and faces were extra important to me since we were the green team and the opposing team was red (and I'm partially red/green color blind)
Slight color blind genetics was probably the least of my worries since I had a host of other problems. For one, I lacked any real soccer experience. I haven't played soccer since middle school. At the time I remember making the soccer team... and promptly quitting since the video game 'Crash Bandicoot 2' was just released on the Playstation. You shouldn't ask a nerdy student whether he preferred running laps or helping a bandicoot save the world from Doctor Nitrus Brio!!! So I didn't quite remember the rules, no big deal.
We warmed up by kicking the ball on the field for a couple of minutes. I immediately felt out of breath and tired. I mentioned it and I think people thought I was joking. Ok, maybe I'm a little out of shape, no big deal.
I was still optimistic. I saw some elderly ladies in the parking lot, maybe they were the red team. The reality of the situation dawned on me as some of the red team appeared onto the field. One person was wearing a San Diego State soccer jersey and another had on a US Marine Corps soccer shirt (and that's just what some of the girls were wearing). The guys had custom names and numbers. Thinking it was a 'beginner / intermediate league', I was almost ready to show up in my sandals. I didn't even know that shinguards were required until an hour before the game.
I can describe in detail how the red team kicked our ass, but I'm sure no one wants to hear about that! We ended up losing 15-3 (the scoreboard stopped keeping track after they hit 15 before half time). Apparently they were in the league's final match last year.
In the end, what really mattered was that it was really fun. It was neat meeting new people and jumping back into something active. I also realized that all the stuff that I've normally been doing hasn't even been remotely competitive; yoga, rock climbing, running, slacklining, surfing, and hiking. All of that has been very mellow and relaxed. I guess its good to change things up a bit.
Slight color blind genetics was probably the least of my worries since I had a host of other problems. For one, I lacked any real soccer experience. I haven't played soccer since middle school. At the time I remember making the soccer team... and promptly quitting since the video game 'Crash Bandicoot 2' was just released on the Playstation. You shouldn't ask a nerdy student whether he preferred running laps or helping a bandicoot save the world from Doctor Nitrus Brio!!! So I didn't quite remember the rules, no big deal.
We warmed up by kicking the ball on the field for a couple of minutes. I immediately felt out of breath and tired. I mentioned it and I think people thought I was joking. Ok, maybe I'm a little out of shape, no big deal.
I was still optimistic. I saw some elderly ladies in the parking lot, maybe they were the red team. The reality of the situation dawned on me as some of the red team appeared onto the field. One person was wearing a San Diego State soccer jersey and another had on a US Marine Corps soccer shirt (and that's just what some of the girls were wearing). The guys had custom names and numbers. Thinking it was a 'beginner / intermediate league', I was almost ready to show up in my sandals. I didn't even know that shinguards were required until an hour before the game.
I can describe in detail how the red team kicked our ass, but I'm sure no one wants to hear about that! We ended up losing 15-3 (the scoreboard stopped keeping track after they hit 15 before half time). Apparently they were in the league's final match last year.
In the end, what really mattered was that it was really fun. It was neat meeting new people and jumping back into something active. I also realized that all the stuff that I've normally been doing hasn't even been remotely competitive; yoga, rock climbing, running, slacklining, surfing, and hiking. All of that has been very mellow and relaxed. I guess its good to change things up a bit.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Hobo Travels
My buddy Jim finished his Peace Corps service about a year ago and ever since he's been traveling around the world. Just recently, he came back to the States to crash with his sister for a month in Los Angeles, CA. Since he was nearby San Diego and his birthday was coming up, we decided to meetup and go surfing at the San Onofre beach. We spent the day eating burritos, surfing, and chilling at a night bonfire.
I suggested that we take a trip over to Yosemite National Park. It sounded like a great idea so in October, I took a week off work, picked Jim up from LA, and we drove to Yosemite to do some hiking/camping 'on the cheap'.
Now let me say that I respect everyone's need to plan to different degrees; some people need to have an itinerary for every hour with reservations already setup and on the other hand, some people only need to know where they're going. Jim and I thought the same, we were the latter of the two trains of though and the only planning we needed was that we'd start driving on the 5 freeway to Yosemite.
Since I was going with Jim, a cheap ass almost to the extent that I was (and maybe even moreso), we knew that we weren't going to spend more than $10 a day. Since $10 a day for food and shelter wasn't a large amount, we knew we had to prioritize our needs; we needed to cover food, shelter, and fun with our $10 a day budget.
Shelter:
I had been to Yosemite National Park before and had stayed at one of the cheapest 'rooms', which was pretty much a canvas tent priced at $89/night in Curry Village. On my last trip, I was with some of my family (including some younger cousins) so I didn't hesitate on spending the money. Now, it was different.
For this trip, a friend from work let us borrow a tent for free (Thanks Sara). The problem was, where do we pitch the tent without park rangers coming over to give us tickets? We thought about pitching our tent out in a random trail, but knew that my truck would get a ticket (vehicles could only park in certain locations unless they had a wilderness permit).
The solution? We drove outside the park, parked on the side of the road, and slept in the back of the truck (although it was freezing outside). Despite the harsh conditions, we slept pretty well that first night. After that night, we got up early and registered a spot at Camp 4 (a well known spot for dirtbag rock climbers) where we were able to pitch our tent inside the park for about $7 a day.
Shelter - Check!
Food:
Being the bums that we are, we decided not to spend much on food. Instead we brought our own supplies. I had my camping gear (camping stove, pots, and fuel) and lots of food lying around the house; some clif bars, oatmeal, mac & cheese, and packets of instant noodles (the good kind - I spare no expenses when it comes to instant noodle!). Jim snagged a lot of smoked pork and chicken at his sister's party just before we left LA.
For meals, we would sit in the truck bed making our food while watching people walk by their cars. Instead of buying our food at Camp Curry, we shifted our food money and instead used it on what any other sane individual would've done; buy a beer everynight.
Food - Check!
Fun:
Our first full day in Yosemite, we decided to hike Half Dome... in flip flops. People advised us to start no later than 9 am. We started closer to noon and knew we had to hurry if we were to make it up and down that same day. We made it to the top (where its necessary to 'climb' up), rested a bit, and shared some of our spare water with others. The view was amazing. On top we met Godzilla, the park ranger lady who went around kicking people's stone shrines down.
On the way down, we passed by people who were already on the way down when we were still hiking up. We made it back to camp for our well deserved beer just as it got dark.
For the rest of the trip, we did a little bouldering, saw a bear cub close up on a trail, helped some German hitchhikers get to a far off trail (they laid on the truck bed hiding under our sleeping bags), met a hilarious French husband/wife, shared stories with an Irish rock climber over a campfire, never once took a shower, had farting competitions inside the tent, raced across trails, and incessantly made fun of 'punters' (tourists who spend a lot of money needlessly - for example, taking the bus tour through a trail)
Fun - Check!
After a week up in Yosemite while sleeping in a tent and hiking everyday, we weren't the cleanest of individuals (not to mention the farting competitions didn't help our cause). So on the way back to LA, we stopped by my first home, good ole Reedley! Even though Jim and I had our fair share of traveling the world, it was always nice to return home for a hot shower, a comfortable bed, and some home cooked food.
I suggested that we take a trip over to Yosemite National Park. It sounded like a great idea so in October, I took a week off work, picked Jim up from LA, and we drove to Yosemite to do some hiking/camping 'on the cheap'.
Now let me say that I respect everyone's need to plan to different degrees; some people need to have an itinerary for every hour with reservations already setup and on the other hand, some people only need to know where they're going. Jim and I thought the same, we were the latter of the two trains of though and the only planning we needed was that we'd start driving on the 5 freeway to Yosemite.
Since I was going with Jim, a cheap ass almost to the extent that I was (and maybe even moreso), we knew that we weren't going to spend more than $10 a day. Since $10 a day for food and shelter wasn't a large amount, we knew we had to prioritize our needs; we needed to cover food, shelter, and fun with our $10 a day budget.
Shelter:
I had been to Yosemite National Park before and had stayed at one of the cheapest 'rooms', which was pretty much a canvas tent priced at $89/night in Curry Village. On my last trip, I was with some of my family (including some younger cousins) so I didn't hesitate on spending the money. Now, it was different.
For this trip, a friend from work let us borrow a tent for free (Thanks Sara). The problem was, where do we pitch the tent without park rangers coming over to give us tickets? We thought about pitching our tent out in a random trail, but knew that my truck would get a ticket (vehicles could only park in certain locations unless they had a wilderness permit).
The solution? We drove outside the park, parked on the side of the road, and slept in the back of the truck (although it was freezing outside). Despite the harsh conditions, we slept pretty well that first night. After that night, we got up early and registered a spot at Camp 4 (a well known spot for dirtbag rock climbers) where we were able to pitch our tent inside the park for about $7 a day.
Shelter - Check!
Food:
Being the bums that we are, we decided not to spend much on food. Instead we brought our own supplies. I had my camping gear (camping stove, pots, and fuel) and lots of food lying around the house; some clif bars, oatmeal, mac & cheese, and packets of instant noodles (the good kind - I spare no expenses when it comes to instant noodle!). Jim snagged a lot of smoked pork and chicken at his sister's party just before we left LA.
For meals, we would sit in the truck bed making our food while watching people walk by their cars. Instead of buying our food at Camp Curry, we shifted our food money and instead used it on what any other sane individual would've done; buy a beer everynight.
Food - Check!
Fun:
Our first full day in Yosemite, we decided to hike Half Dome... in flip flops. People advised us to start no later than 9 am. We started closer to noon and knew we had to hurry if we were to make it up and down that same day. We made it to the top (where its necessary to 'climb' up), rested a bit, and shared some of our spare water with others. The view was amazing. On top we met Godzilla, the park ranger lady who went around kicking people's stone shrines down.
On the way down, we passed by people who were already on the way down when we were still hiking up. We made it back to camp for our well deserved beer just as it got dark.
For the rest of the trip, we did a little bouldering, saw a bear cub close up on a trail, helped some German hitchhikers get to a far off trail (they laid on the truck bed hiding under our sleeping bags), met a hilarious French husband/wife, shared stories with an Irish rock climber over a campfire, never once took a shower, had farting competitions inside the tent, raced across trails, and incessantly made fun of 'punters' (tourists who spend a lot of money needlessly - for example, taking the bus tour through a trail)
Fun - Check!
After a week up in Yosemite while sleeping in a tent and hiking everyday, we weren't the cleanest of individuals (not to mention the farting competitions didn't help our cause). So on the way back to LA, we stopped by my first home, good ole Reedley! Even though Jim and I had our fair share of traveling the world, it was always nice to return home for a hot shower, a comfortable bed, and some home cooked food.
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Offices Wars!
So I inadvertently started an office prank war. It all started with April Fool's Day when two of my coworkers stepped away from the office.
I took a PrintScreen (PrtSc button) of their desktops. I opened up Microsoft Paint, pasted the picture, saved it, and set it as their desktop picture. I then hid all their desktop icons into a temporary folder. This way, they see a picture of their desktop, but the icons aren't actually clickable.
When they came back and started clicking on the desktop icons, they noticed that something was wrong. Another coworker and I played ignorance, but I'm so bad at lying. I ended up laughing and they finally caught on.
They fought back. They retaliated with blue tape. Let me explain; I share an office with one of the coworkers that I played the first prank on (technically, she's my immediate boss). As a joke, she used blue tape to separate the room between 'my office' and 'her office'. I slowly moved the tape inch by inch and 'my office' slowly grew larger.
It got to the point where our Executive Director, who was more than happy to abide by our 'office rules', finally pointed out that my office was much larger than my boss'. I confessed to moving the tape little by little.
I came to work on Monday and the tape on my side barely covered my desk. I didn't even have room for my chair. In fact, my chair was gone too. My boss hid my chair and in its place, there was a piece of blue tape with black text that said "STAND HERE". I laughed a hearty laugh while my mind raced with revenge schemes!
The pranks have gone on from taping the light to always on, a pretend Earthquake, taping a laser mouse so it won't move, and a lot of emails with fake complaints using an automatic complaint generator using http://www.pakin.org/complaint
On the latest prank I called in to the newest hire and told her I was sick. It also happened to be the day that we pulled in all our agency administrators so I could train them. I said she had to cover for me. She's really nervous about public speaking so she panicked. I walked in a couple minutes later. She was not happy.
The new and old Executive Director is on their side as well; they've been changing my seat height and unplugging my computer. I need to watch my back... and make allies fast... because this is WAR!!!
P.S. I have a secret weapon: They all drink coffee and I drink tea... someday, if push comes to shove, the coffee maker will be held ransom!!!!
I took a PrintScreen (PrtSc button) of their desktops. I opened up Microsoft Paint, pasted the picture, saved it, and set it as their desktop picture. I then hid all their desktop icons into a temporary folder. This way, they see a picture of their desktop, but the icons aren't actually clickable.
When they came back and started clicking on the desktop icons, they noticed that something was wrong. Another coworker and I played ignorance, but I'm so bad at lying. I ended up laughing and they finally caught on.
They fought back. They retaliated with blue tape. Let me explain; I share an office with one of the coworkers that I played the first prank on (technically, she's my immediate boss). As a joke, she used blue tape to separate the room between 'my office' and 'her office'. I slowly moved the tape inch by inch and 'my office' slowly grew larger.
It got to the point where our Executive Director, who was more than happy to abide by our 'office rules', finally pointed out that my office was much larger than my boss'. I confessed to moving the tape little by little.
I came to work on Monday and the tape on my side barely covered my desk. I didn't even have room for my chair. In fact, my chair was gone too. My boss hid my chair and in its place, there was a piece of blue tape with black text that said "STAND HERE". I laughed a hearty laugh while my mind raced with revenge schemes!
The pranks have gone on from taping the light to always on, a pretend Earthquake, taping a laser mouse so it won't move, and a lot of emails with fake complaints using an automatic complaint generator using http://www.pakin.org/complaint
On the latest prank I called in to the newest hire and told her I was sick. It also happened to be the day that we pulled in all our agency administrators so I could train them. I said she had to cover for me. She's really nervous about public speaking so she panicked. I walked in a couple minutes later. She was not happy.
The new and old Executive Director is on their side as well; they've been changing my seat height and unplugging my computer. I need to watch my back... and make allies fast... because this is WAR!!!
P.S. I have a secret weapon: They all drink coffee and I drink tea... someday, if push comes to shove, the coffee maker will be held ransom!!!!
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Motorcycle Class
What do you call a doctor that passes medical school with all D's? We still call them a doctor.
That's how I feel about me and my motorcycle class. After I completed the course, the Department of Motor Vehicles says that I know the basics of how to operate a two wheel vehicle with a 50cc or larger engine. Even though I passed their test, I really don't know why they let me; I AM NOT SAFE ON THE ROAD! I'm not even remotely close!
Throughout the riding portion of the class, I kept stalling my Kawasaki. I never learned how to drive manual on a car and let me tell you, riding a motorcycle is much tougher. Not only is there this 'clutch' and 'shifting' required, but you also have to worry about balancing a 350 pound bike.
I had no previous concept of balancing the clutch, throttle, or how to manually shift. Throughout the first day of riding, I was easily the worst guy to be around. I kept stalling whenever we stopped and my engine could always be heard roaring above the other motorcycles since I hated switching to higher gears. My foot kept missing the shift and in order to reach a higher gear, you have to tediously switch through neutral to get to second. Everyone was very patient and by the end of the day, I was doing all right.
We learned and practiced everything from the basics of starting up a motorcycle to advanced topics like how to brake while cornering. The one that had me a bit nervous was when we rode over large pieces of wood on our bikes.
By the end of the course, I had seen my first motorcycle 'accident'. It wasn't what I expected at all. I expected someone to take a spill on a sharp corner where the motorcycle and driver goes scraping against the asphalt across several yards and finally rolls to a dead stop. (And partly I expected that person to be me)
Well, it turned out to be quite the opposite (and thankfully not me). I was behind the unfortunate student on an exercise to practice quick motorcycle braking. The guy revved up his engine, started zooming along a straight line, shifted to second, and quickly braked hard when the instructor gave the sign.
The bike abruptly stopped similar to a car slamming hard on the brakes. The only difference is that the car has four tires to stabilize itself, whereas the bike managed to fully stop, yet the balance wasn't maintained. As if in slow motion, the bike fell slowly to the left. The rider extended his foot, but the power of the stop must have caught him off guard as he and his bike slowly hit the floor. (The student had bought motorcycle armor so he walked off fine; it was also a very slow fall)
Our final test started with a couple tight U-turns in a small box, swerving and changing paths, quick braking, and basic cornering. Again, all of us passed, but I don't know how. I easily rolled outside the box while doing the U-turns and if it were a real life situation, my abrupt stopping speed would likely land me into another car's rear window. Hmm.. maybe I'll check out scooters.
When we left the course, I saw the guy who had fallen and dropped his bike. The reason why he had motorcycle armor was because he already owned a motorcycle and that's how he got to class...
I guess it's no joke that California let's anyone get a license.
That's how I feel about me and my motorcycle class. After I completed the course, the Department of Motor Vehicles says that I know the basics of how to operate a two wheel vehicle with a 50cc or larger engine. Even though I passed their test, I really don't know why they let me; I AM NOT SAFE ON THE ROAD! I'm not even remotely close!
Throughout the riding portion of the class, I kept stalling my Kawasaki. I never learned how to drive manual on a car and let me tell you, riding a motorcycle is much tougher. Not only is there this 'clutch' and 'shifting' required, but you also have to worry about balancing a 350 pound bike.
I had no previous concept of balancing the clutch, throttle, or how to manually shift. Throughout the first day of riding, I was easily the worst guy to be around. I kept stalling whenever we stopped and my engine could always be heard roaring above the other motorcycles since I hated switching to higher gears. My foot kept missing the shift and in order to reach a higher gear, you have to tediously switch through neutral to get to second. Everyone was very patient and by the end of the day, I was doing all right.
We learned and practiced everything from the basics of starting up a motorcycle to advanced topics like how to brake while cornering. The one that had me a bit nervous was when we rode over large pieces of wood on our bikes.
By the end of the course, I had seen my first motorcycle 'accident'. It wasn't what I expected at all. I expected someone to take a spill on a sharp corner where the motorcycle and driver goes scraping against the asphalt across several yards and finally rolls to a dead stop. (And partly I expected that person to be me)
Well, it turned out to be quite the opposite (and thankfully not me). I was behind the unfortunate student on an exercise to practice quick motorcycle braking. The guy revved up his engine, started zooming along a straight line, shifted to second, and quickly braked hard when the instructor gave the sign.
The bike abruptly stopped similar to a car slamming hard on the brakes. The only difference is that the car has four tires to stabilize itself, whereas the bike managed to fully stop, yet the balance wasn't maintained. As if in slow motion, the bike fell slowly to the left. The rider extended his foot, but the power of the stop must have caught him off guard as he and his bike slowly hit the floor. (The student had bought motorcycle armor so he walked off fine; it was also a very slow fall)
Our final test started with a couple tight U-turns in a small box, swerving and changing paths, quick braking, and basic cornering. Again, all of us passed, but I don't know how. I easily rolled outside the box while doing the U-turns and if it were a real life situation, my abrupt stopping speed would likely land me into another car's rear window. Hmm.. maybe I'll check out scooters.
When we left the course, I saw the guy who had fallen and dropped his bike. The reason why he had motorcycle armor was because he already owned a motorcycle and that's how he got to class...
I guess it's no joke that California let's anyone get a license.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
100% Hippy?
Despite the hair cut, I still feel as hippy as ever. Since we moved here, Adrienne and I have made it a tradition to visit the local Farmer's market every weekend to support the local farmers and to buy inexpensive, good food. Farmer's market is only a few blocks away so there really is no excuse for us not to go.
Last week I tried a large spicy beef gyro that reminded me of when we went backpacking through Europe. This week I got a little carried away and tried a hearty British chicken curry pie, a well seasoned and beautifully grilled chicken kabob, and some sweet Thai coconut milk pancakes (rice flour, coconut milk, sugar and salt). Along with tasting the prepared food, we also bought basic ingredients that Adrienne's been turning into fancy delicious meals throughout the week! :)
Ok, maybe Farmer's Market isn't really that hippy, but it sure makes me happy. Whenever I pass by the makeshift tents, I get a certain sense of peace that's attributed to the stereotypical carefree and stressless hippy. Shortly after putting our groceries back home, we walked over to Balboa Park to celebrate Earth Day with 50,000+ of our San Diegan neighbors. Since Balboa Park was only a mile away from our house, it was only a simple walk for us. Within traveling two blocks, we immediately saw congested traffic and were once again thankful for where we lived.
The event was already gathering crowds of people and throughout the rest of the day, Earth Day sent two very different messages. The large signs, the laminated pictures, and the text on the brochures claimed how organization X was protecting and saving the environment. However, when one just looked past the messages and looked simply on the ground we stood on, you could see an entirely different message of empty wrappers and discarded fliers.
Now I'm not saying this is the fault of the organizations. No, I just find it sad that some San Diegans don't manage to see the true meaning behind Earth Day. They either picked up information packets knowing full well they wouldn't read them when they got home or they somehow couldn't connect Earth Day to recycling the wrappers from the food that they just bought.
They seemed too caught up with trying out meatless BBQ ribs or visiting the familiar Ben and Jerry Ice Cream stands located every 30 feet apart. Before I could create more judgemental thoughts, we met up with one of Adrienne's friends (and her parents) to explore the rest of the park. With the good company, my mind didn't dwell on the negative thinking.
We witnessed everything from pure electrical cars to organizations focused on saving our wildlife foundations. There were rock to reggae concerts, food courts, people simply lying around, and even some that were boldly and publicly celebrating 4/20 in true 420 style. There was one thing that I didn't expect though...
Just past the Clif bar stand and right before the political activists tents stood a large group of people holding picket signs. I walked in for a closer inspection and read the large billboard "WARNING: Protect Your Children - Gruesome Images Ahead: The following protesters are not part of Earth Day and have refused to leave".
Hmm.. who would put up gruesome images at a public event? Heck, just 30 yards away, there were Jedis and Stormtroopers putting aside their petty differences to pose for pictures with all the kids. Can you believe that; even Stormtroopers, representatives of the evil Galactic Empire, had a heart and thought about the kids first!
I walked over to see who was holding up the signs. There were people holding up pictures of half aborted children and even a group claiming that all worshipers of Islam were part of a political movement and that Islam is truly not a religion. I didn't even know what to say so I'll just type a bunch of dots...........................................
I wish I could describe their lack of respect or their ignorance better, but I really have trouble coming up with articulate words. I really think there is no hope for those people so let me throw in a few more dots...
As we were walking home, I decided that I wasn't a true hippy. I might have stopped looking the part after my hair cut, but even before then I knew I was way too judgmental of others. I'm definitely all for peace and loving, free speech, and anti-government, but at that moment when I saw the protectors holding up their ignorant signs... I would have no problems looking the other way if someone slapped some sense into them.
Last week I tried a large spicy beef gyro that reminded me of when we went backpacking through Europe. This week I got a little carried away and tried a hearty British chicken curry pie, a well seasoned and beautifully grilled chicken kabob, and some sweet Thai coconut milk pancakes (rice flour, coconut milk, sugar and salt). Along with tasting the prepared food, we also bought basic ingredients that Adrienne's been turning into fancy delicious meals throughout the week! :)
Ok, maybe Farmer's Market isn't really that hippy, but it sure makes me happy. Whenever I pass by the makeshift tents, I get a certain sense of peace that's attributed to the stereotypical carefree and stressless hippy. Shortly after putting our groceries back home, we walked over to Balboa Park to celebrate Earth Day with 50,000+ of our San Diegan neighbors. Since Balboa Park was only a mile away from our house, it was only a simple walk for us. Within traveling two blocks, we immediately saw congested traffic and were once again thankful for where we lived.
The event was already gathering crowds of people and throughout the rest of the day, Earth Day sent two very different messages. The large signs, the laminated pictures, and the text on the brochures claimed how organization X was protecting and saving the environment. However, when one just looked past the messages and looked simply on the ground we stood on, you could see an entirely different message of empty wrappers and discarded fliers.
Now I'm not saying this is the fault of the organizations. No, I just find it sad that some San Diegans don't manage to see the true meaning behind Earth Day. They either picked up information packets knowing full well they wouldn't read them when they got home or they somehow couldn't connect Earth Day to recycling the wrappers from the food that they just bought.
They seemed too caught up with trying out meatless BBQ ribs or visiting the familiar Ben and Jerry Ice Cream stands located every 30 feet apart. Before I could create more judgemental thoughts, we met up with one of Adrienne's friends (and her parents) to explore the rest of the park. With the good company, my mind didn't dwell on the negative thinking.
We witnessed everything from pure electrical cars to organizations focused on saving our wildlife foundations. There were rock to reggae concerts, food courts, people simply lying around, and even some that were boldly and publicly celebrating 4/20 in true 420 style. There was one thing that I didn't expect though...
Just past the Clif bar stand and right before the political activists tents stood a large group of people holding picket signs. I walked in for a closer inspection and read the large billboard "WARNING: Protect Your Children - Gruesome Images Ahead: The following protesters are not part of Earth Day and have refused to leave".
Hmm.. who would put up gruesome images at a public event? Heck, just 30 yards away, there were Jedis and Stormtroopers putting aside their petty differences to pose for pictures with all the kids. Can you believe that; even Stormtroopers, representatives of the evil Galactic Empire, had a heart and thought about the kids first!
I walked over to see who was holding up the signs. There were people holding up pictures of half aborted children and even a group claiming that all worshipers of Islam were part of a political movement and that Islam is truly not a religion. I didn't even know what to say so I'll just type a bunch of dots...........................................
I wish I could describe their lack of respect or their ignorance better, but I really have trouble coming up with articulate words. I really think there is no hope for those people so let me throw in a few more dots...
As we were walking home, I decided that I wasn't a true hippy. I might have stopped looking the part after my hair cut, but even before then I knew I was way too judgmental of others. I'm definitely all for peace and loving, free speech, and anti-government, but at that moment when I saw the protectors holding up their ignorant signs... I would have no problems looking the other way if someone slapped some sense into them.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
My spider senses are tingling!
After moving into our new place on Sunday, Adrienne and I noticed that our apartment felt as cold as a cave! (Consider this a warning to all potential visitors! Our place is now dubbed "The Bunker")
Normally I would laugh and mock my girlfriend's inability to generate body heat while I would sleep warm and snuggly. This time I even felt cold so I decided that something had to be done immediately and that this was no joking matter.
I looked at the bunker's aging gas heater, wondering how to operate it. Where do I log in? Where's the power switch? Man, I wish I wasn't out sick laying on the ground drooling on myself when the landlord showed us the place.
With my numb fingers, I tried to ignite the fire with the small switches. We would try to turn the knob from an ignited pilot switch to the "ON" position, but with each attempt the fire would just die out. After numerous attempts, we finally understood how it worked. I just need to light the fire while pumping the gas! The heater rattled alive and we quickly rejoiced as our fingers regained sensation. We had conquered this ancient technology with our mighty brains of the future!!
Still, the heater was warming up too slowly for our impatient bodies so we pulled up our mattress next to the heater. We laid out blankets and I quickly fell asleep with only a small headache and sinuses, naively thinking that I'd be ready for work the next day.
I woke up worse. I called in sick. Adrienne had a sore throat, but left the Bunker early to take care of shopping and help clean up the remainder of our old apartment (she's so sweet!).
Throughout the day, I kept waking up feeling a bit worse. At 7 p.m., my body instinctively told me that I had to get away from the Bunker and get some much needed fresh air. I also secretly wanted some Kung Pao chicken. Even though I had been resting all day, it wasn't doing me much good. The more I slept, the more I felt.. tired.
When I stood up, my head become instantly dizzy and throbbed with pain. It was like I had a midget in my head kicking me every time I tried to get up. For the first time in a long while, I felt the surging sensation to throw up. I climbed the stairs leading to our apartment and was barely able to stop myself from puking all over my neighbor's plants. (I heard in some cultures, that's how you properly greet your new neighbors?)
A couple more blocks brought me to the local Henry's market. They didn't have any ibuprofen or Kung Pao Chicken), but my nausea was starting to disappear even without it. I started feeling remarkably better by the mere act of walking around and getting fresh air. After traveling a little less than a mile, I found a Ralph's that had some Advil.
Adrienne and I returned home pretty much at the same time. She had gone shopping at Bed Bath and Beyond, Home Depot, and Target. She bought everything from color complimenting bathroom rugs to a carbon monoxide detector. She went on about how this color would match with this color, but my headache still drowned out her voice.
I had joked on the first night that we would die from carbon monoxide poisoning during our first night in the bunker. Since it was an invisible and odorless gas that caused death, we wouldn't know that that we were even dying! Adrienne didn't sleep so well after that joke. She couldn't find the humor in it (just like most of my Peace Corps friends couldn't find the humor in a falling coconut related death)
As soon as I plugged in the carbon monoxide tester, 4 high pitched squeals went off. Ouch, it hurt my ear!!! Moments later, another 4 chirps went off in quick succession. I looked at the instructions. 4 quick chirps mean that there is a harmful amount of carbon monoxide. Oh shit. As quickly as we moved our mattresses towards the loving warmth of the Bunker's friendly heater, we just as quickly opened our windows and pulled our mattresses from the invisible cloud of death.
With the carbon monoxide releasing into the open environment, we hoped that our new (and fairly distant) neighbors wouldn't catch a wiff of death mixed into their dinners. Due to the large amount of foilage, we doubt it would travel far (according to myNon-existing...Limited... well read knowledge about how lethal gases would dissipate through the air into non lethal doses). Ok, now with perfect hindsight, maybe we should have warned them and called 911. (Though we figured it was ok since the alarm stopped crying at us) At least I didn't throw up in their plants.
I learned a couple of very important lessons after all of this. Sure, you should be really careful about old gas heaters. However, you should really be on the lookout for danger if you ever have a craving for Kung-pao chicken.
Normally I would laugh and mock my girlfriend's inability to generate body heat while I would sleep warm and snuggly. This time I even felt cold so I decided that something had to be done immediately and that this was no joking matter.
I looked at the bunker's aging gas heater, wondering how to operate it. Where do I log in? Where's the power switch? Man, I wish I wasn't out sick laying on the ground drooling on myself when the landlord showed us the place.
With my numb fingers, I tried to ignite the fire with the small switches. We would try to turn the knob from an ignited pilot switch to the "ON" position, but with each attempt the fire would just die out. After numerous attempts, we finally understood how it worked. I just need to light the fire while pumping the gas! The heater rattled alive and we quickly rejoiced as our fingers regained sensation. We had conquered this ancient technology with our mighty brains of the future!!
Still, the heater was warming up too slowly for our impatient bodies so we pulled up our mattress next to the heater. We laid out blankets and I quickly fell asleep with only a small headache and sinuses, naively thinking that I'd be ready for work the next day.
I woke up worse. I called in sick. Adrienne had a sore throat, but left the Bunker early to take care of shopping and help clean up the remainder of our old apartment (she's so sweet!).
Throughout the day, I kept waking up feeling a bit worse. At 7 p.m., my body instinctively told me that I had to get away from the Bunker and get some much needed fresh air. I also secretly wanted some Kung Pao chicken. Even though I had been resting all day, it wasn't doing me much good. The more I slept, the more I felt.. tired.
When I stood up, my head become instantly dizzy and throbbed with pain. It was like I had a midget in my head kicking me every time I tried to get up. For the first time in a long while, I felt the surging sensation to throw up. I climbed the stairs leading to our apartment and was barely able to stop myself from puking all over my neighbor's plants. (I heard in some cultures, that's how you properly greet your new neighbors?)
A couple more blocks brought me to the local Henry's market. They didn't have any ibuprofen or Kung Pao Chicken), but my nausea was starting to disappear even without it. I started feeling remarkably better by the mere act of walking around and getting fresh air. After traveling a little less than a mile, I found a Ralph's that had some Advil.
Adrienne and I returned home pretty much at the same time. She had gone shopping at Bed Bath and Beyond, Home Depot, and Target. She bought everything from color complimenting bathroom rugs to a carbon monoxide detector. She went on about how this color would match with this color, but my headache still drowned out her voice.
I had joked on the first night that we would die from carbon monoxide poisoning during our first night in the bunker. Since it was an invisible and odorless gas that caused death, we wouldn't know that that we were even dying! Adrienne didn't sleep so well after that joke. She couldn't find the humor in it (just like most of my Peace Corps friends couldn't find the humor in a falling coconut related death)
As soon as I plugged in the carbon monoxide tester, 4 high pitched squeals went off. Ouch, it hurt my ear!!! Moments later, another 4 chirps went off in quick succession. I looked at the instructions. 4 quick chirps mean that there is a harmful amount of carbon monoxide. Oh shit. As quickly as we moved our mattresses towards the loving warmth of the Bunker's friendly heater, we just as quickly opened our windows and pulled our mattresses from the invisible cloud of death.
With the carbon monoxide releasing into the open environment, we hoped that our new (and fairly distant) neighbors wouldn't catch a wiff of death mixed into their dinners. Due to the large amount of foilage, we doubt it would travel far (according to my
I learned a couple of very important lessons after all of this. Sure, you should be really careful about old gas heaters. However, you should really be on the lookout for danger if you ever have a craving for Kung-pao chicken.
Sunday, April 29, 2007
Green Triangle C cannot be third in line!
For a lot of the jobs in IT, tests are given to determine one's technical aptitude. The position that I might be offered as software programmer for random phone company was certainly no exception. No worries I thought, I've always been pretty decent at taking tests.
The test was like any other programming test. It covered basic programming logic to simple math skills. I was doing fine until a logic question hit me that caused me to slightly panick.
There were 5 objects that had to be arranged in order. The 5 objects were labeled A, B, C, D, E and each were assigned a unique color and some shape (2 circles, 2 triangles, and one square total)
I was fine with the logical portion of these questions and actually preferred them thanks to studying the "Power Score Logic Games Bible" when I was preparing for the LSAT. Anyways, these questions required a careful setup of the diagram, making some fairly simple inferences, and after which the questions were easily answerable.
The question asked to place the objects in order given a following rule set:
For example, Rule1: two circles cannot be next to each other.
Rule2: Blue Triangle cannot be the last one, etc.
When I read "Green Triangle" cannot be third, I started to worry. It wasn't the logic that confused me. I just didn't know which one was the green one? I think that one is brown? Wait, the last time I said something was brown, a friend had pointed out that my browns and reds were mixed up.
Hmm... not good. Oh wait, I think someone said my shirt is green! I placed my shirt against the test. Yes, they look similar! The looks that I might get from pressing my shirt up against the test might have people questioning my sanity, but at least my logic is solid. Green Triangle C cannot be third.
[Updated: I got an offer, but I declined. I don't really see myself working as a programmer for a phone company. There's gotta be more to life than this. I'm also not that desperate for a job... yet]
The test was like any other programming test. It covered basic programming logic to simple math skills. I was doing fine until a logic question hit me that caused me to slightly panick.
There were 5 objects that had to be arranged in order. The 5 objects were labeled A, B, C, D, E and each were assigned a unique color and some shape (2 circles, 2 triangles, and one square total)
I was fine with the logical portion of these questions and actually preferred them thanks to studying the "Power Score Logic Games Bible" when I was preparing for the LSAT. Anyways, these questions required a careful setup of the diagram, making some fairly simple inferences, and after which the questions were easily answerable.
The question asked to place the objects in order given a following rule set:
For example, Rule1: two circles cannot be next to each other.
Rule2: Blue Triangle cannot be the last one, etc.
When I read "Green Triangle" cannot be third, I started to worry. It wasn't the logic that confused me. I just didn't know which one was the green one? I think that one is brown? Wait, the last time I said something was brown, a friend had pointed out that my browns and reds were mixed up.
Hmm... not good. Oh wait, I think someone said my shirt is green! I placed my shirt against the test. Yes, they look similar! The looks that I might get from pressing my shirt up against the test might have people questioning my sanity, but at least my logic is solid. Green Triangle C cannot be third.
[Updated: I got an offer, but I declined. I don't really see myself working as a programmer for a phone company. There's gotta be more to life than this. I'm also not that desperate for a job... yet]
The Job Search
So reality is finally setting in; I've been back in the States for a few days. The last few dollars that I exchanged for Euros doesn't seem like such a great idea anymore. My money is running low; I need a job! Seeing as how Reedley was not the best place to find a job for someone with a Computer Engineering degree, I decided to take my cousin up on his offer to crash at his place in San Diego.
So off I went to San Diego with my one bag of possessions! After 6 hours of driving and arriving to a few LAN games of "Company of Heroes", I decided that I should start doing some work to justify 'moving' to San Diego. I typed up a quick resume and cover letter, posted them on monster.com, then promptly went back to playing more "Company of Heroes" before going to sleep.
I woke up the next day at the crack of 10:30 a.m. to the sound of a phone ringing. Hey! That phone sounds distinctly familiar... I think it's my phone. Being the lazy ass that I am, I ignored the call. A half hour later I decided to roll out of the futon to see who called. Oooh, I had a local call!
I called back to find that I had a month contract position from RandomCompany if I wanted, as long as I was ready to start the following day. My Peace Corps 'experience' must have stood out! Wow, I've never had jobs contact me back that quickly. Oh wait... what do I have to do?
Set up a computer center?! Are you serious?! I just did that!!! Ugh, that's irony. My first job offer in the States is for the same position as what I was doing in Tonga. Umm, let me think about it.
The next job was for a tutoring position. I went to the interview quite ready to tackle almost any problem that was thrown my way! English? I did well on the LSAT. Teaching? I got my CBEST. Umm... Calculus II? Oh snap, I haven't taken that for a good 4 years at least and even then I only received a B. They want me to do what with an nth degree Taylor Polynomial of f(x)? Umm... sure... next?
As I was about to start reviewing my Calculus II, I got a call from randomGameCompany. Oooh, sweet! I got an interview with them! The interview was simple, followed the next day with another interview with same randomGameCompany that was really fun. I can't believe I just said that I had fun at an interview! Anyways, one comment was "Wow, you'll fit in here"... I take it that he meant it as a compliment! I'll hear back next week.
I also had heard from a phone company that wanted a software programmer and some random computer programmer company in Wisconsin. All of this was within 5 days! My resume and my school is fairly lame; I'm not an Ivy League graduate or even from a respectable University of California. It's just San Diego and a good economy right now!
I <3 San Diego, it's such an awesome place for broke IT students looking for jobs!
So off I went to San Diego with my one bag of possessions! After 6 hours of driving and arriving to a few LAN games of "Company of Heroes", I decided that I should start doing some work to justify 'moving' to San Diego. I typed up a quick resume and cover letter, posted them on monster.com, then promptly went back to playing more "Company of Heroes" before going to sleep.
I woke up the next day at the crack of 10:30 a.m. to the sound of a phone ringing. Hey! That phone sounds distinctly familiar... I think it's my phone. Being the lazy ass that I am, I ignored the call. A half hour later I decided to roll out of the futon to see who called. Oooh, I had a local call!
I called back to find that I had a month contract position from RandomCompany if I wanted, as long as I was ready to start the following day. My Peace Corps 'experience' must have stood out! Wow, I've never had jobs contact me back that quickly. Oh wait... what do I have to do?
Set up a computer center?! Are you serious?! I just did that!!! Ugh, that's irony. My first job offer in the States is for the same position as what I was doing in Tonga. Umm, let me think about it.
The next job was for a tutoring position. I went to the interview quite ready to tackle almost any problem that was thrown my way! English? I did well on the LSAT. Teaching? I got my CBEST. Umm... Calculus II? Oh snap, I haven't taken that for a good 4 years at least and even then I only received a B. They want me to do what with an nth degree Taylor Polynomial of f(x)? Umm... sure... next?
As I was about to start reviewing my Calculus II, I got a call from randomGameCompany. Oooh, sweet! I got an interview with them! The interview was simple, followed the next day with another interview with same randomGameCompany that was really fun. I can't believe I just said that I had fun at an interview! Anyways, one comment was "Wow, you'll fit in here"... I take it that he meant it as a compliment! I'll hear back next week.
I also had heard from a phone company that wanted a software programmer and some random computer programmer company in Wisconsin. All of this was within 5 days! My resume and my school is fairly lame; I'm not an Ivy League graduate or even from a respectable University of California. It's just San Diego and a good economy right now!
I <3 San Diego, it's such an awesome place for broke IT students looking for jobs!
Friday, March 30, 2007
The Email that Never Came
The Email that Never Came
So after "The Paris Train Incidient", we discovered that we forgot to tie up some loose ends. Before Adrienne hung up the phone on her parents at the Paris Train Station, she told them that she would call back in 15 minutes. Her plan was to call back at the hostel. At the hostel, we discovered that there were no phones that could dial out internationally. In our tired state, we ended up just eating and sleeping while her parents were still expecting a phone call.
We forgot to follow up. We also overslept our train to Milan, Italy and were already tackling our next problem of "Where do we want to go?". The person checking for available seats just looked at us with an incredulous stare each time TravelingPartner and I opened our mouths and sprouted out that we whimsically wanted to visit said country. The conversation went like this:
William: "We overslept our train to Milan, Italy. Is there any more available seats today for Milan?"
Train Employee: "Let me check... nope, not for today"
William: "How about to Italy in general?"
Train Employee: "Let me check..."
Adrienne: "I've already been to Italy. Can we go somewhere else?"
William: "How about Bern, Switzerland?"
Train Employee: "Let me check... fully booked for today"
William: "You want to go to Barcelona?"
Adrienne: "Sure!"
William: "What about Barcelona, Spain?"
Train Employee: "Um... let me check... none available today"
Adrienne: "What about Vienna, Austria?"
Train Employee: "Let me check... yep, I can get you two to the next train in an hour and a half, but it leaves from another station"
William and Adrienne look at each other.
William: "Perfect, we'll take it!"
We asked for trains to Bern, Switzerland all the way to Barcelona, Spain. and ended up just going to Vienna, Austria. It was pretty hilarious at that point; we were so accustomed to going wherever the train would take us that it was beginning to be fairly routine. Paris was also starting to get very expensive so we just wanted to get the hell out of there.
While we were contemplating where to go, Adrienne's parents were still concerned about the welfare of their daughter. Before we left, Adrienne had left her parents the contact information to reach my parents in cases of dire emergencies. This situation neatly filed under the "Dire Emergency" category.
Last they knew, their beautiful daughter was in a foreign country where she did not know the local language and had no place to stay. They knew that it was nightfall, we had little cash, businesses were closed, and we had never been to that part of Paris before. I was also a mysterious person who they've never met and who only knew their daughter through Peace Corps.
So Adrienne's parents called my parents. Little did they know of me and my reclusiveness. The call did not alleviate their concerns, but only frustrated them more. From what I've asked around, here's what happened:
AP = Adrienne's Parents
MP = My parents
MC = My cousin
Adrienne's Parents call up my house.
Ring Ring!
My parents pick up the phone.
My parents: "Hello?"
AP: "Hi, is this William Liu's parents?"
MP: "Yes. William's not here right now, he's in Europe somewhere."
AP: "Yes, I know. This is Adrienne's mother. William is traveling with my daughter."
MP: "Yes, William is in Europe."
AP: "Yes. The last I heard from them, they had no place to stay, they were in a train station they've never been, they didn't have much cash, and they said they would call me back in 15 minutes, but I haven't heard from them in a couple days. I've emailed them and I haven't gotten a response. It's not like my daughter to ask for help, and then stop all communication. When was the last time you heard from William?"
MP: "William's in Europe, he'll be back later. Don't worry, William always finds a way out of sticky situations"
AP: "..."
MP: "Do you want to talk to his cousin? She knows computers, they might have contacted each other."
AP: "Umm... Yes please"
My parents pass phone over to my 16 year old cousin.
My cousin: "Hi"
AP: "Hi, when was the last time you heard from William?"
MC: "Last week"
AP: "Do you know where he is and if he's ok?"
MC: "Yeah, he's in Europe. He'll be back later."
AP: "Have you talked to him recently?"
MC: "No, but he always manages to get by. Don't worry"
Adrienne's Parents repeat our dire situation.
MC replies back "No worries, they'll be fine."
AP: "........."
AP: "Ok, thank you. Bye"
MC: "Ok, Bye!"
Adrienne received an email from her parents and her friends. I received not even a single email! Let's not go into further details about that...
[Updated] It's been a few days since I've been back and during a dinner my mom casually said, "Oh, while you were gone, someone called for you. It was someone's mom. They wanted to know where you were."
I laughed.
So after "The Paris Train Incidient", we discovered that we forgot to tie up some loose ends. Before Adrienne hung up the phone on her parents at the Paris Train Station, she told them that she would call back in 15 minutes. Her plan was to call back at the hostel. At the hostel, we discovered that there were no phones that could dial out internationally. In our tired state, we ended up just eating and sleeping while her parents were still expecting a phone call.
We forgot to follow up. We also overslept our train to Milan, Italy and were already tackling our next problem of "Where do we want to go?". The person checking for available seats just looked at us with an incredulous stare each time TravelingPartner and I opened our mouths and sprouted out that we whimsically wanted to visit said country. The conversation went like this:
William: "We overslept our train to Milan, Italy. Is there any more available seats today for Milan?"
Train Employee: "Let me check... nope, not for today"
William: "How about to Italy in general?"
Train Employee: "Let me check..."
Adrienne: "I've already been to Italy. Can we go somewhere else?"
William: "How about Bern, Switzerland?"
Train Employee: "Let me check... fully booked for today"
William: "You want to go to Barcelona?"
Adrienne: "Sure!"
William: "What about Barcelona, Spain?"
Train Employee: "Um... let me check... none available today"
Adrienne: "What about Vienna, Austria?"
Train Employee: "Let me check... yep, I can get you two to the next train in an hour and a half, but it leaves from another station"
William and Adrienne look at each other.
William: "Perfect, we'll take it!"
We asked for trains to Bern, Switzerland all the way to Barcelona, Spain. and ended up just going to Vienna, Austria. It was pretty hilarious at that point; we were so accustomed to going wherever the train would take us that it was beginning to be fairly routine. Paris was also starting to get very expensive so we just wanted to get the hell out of there.
While we were contemplating where to go, Adrienne's parents were still concerned about the welfare of their daughter. Before we left, Adrienne had left her parents the contact information to reach my parents in cases of dire emergencies. This situation neatly filed under the "Dire Emergency" category.
Last they knew, their beautiful daughter was in a foreign country where she did not know the local language and had no place to stay. They knew that it was nightfall, we had little cash, businesses were closed, and we had never been to that part of Paris before. I was also a mysterious person who they've never met and who only knew their daughter through Peace Corps.
So Adrienne's parents called my parents. Little did they know of me and my reclusiveness. The call did not alleviate their concerns, but only frustrated them more. From what I've asked around, here's what happened:
AP = Adrienne's Parents
MP = My parents
MC = My cousin
Adrienne's Parents call up my house.
Ring Ring!
My parents pick up the phone.
My parents: "Hello?"
AP: "Hi, is this William Liu's parents?"
MP: "Yes. William's not here right now, he's in Europe somewhere."
AP: "Yes, I know. This is Adrienne's mother. William is traveling with my daughter."
MP: "Yes, William is in Europe."
AP: "Yes. The last I heard from them, they had no place to stay, they were in a train station they've never been, they didn't have much cash, and they said they would call me back in 15 minutes, but I haven't heard from them in a couple days. I've emailed them and I haven't gotten a response. It's not like my daughter to ask for help, and then stop all communication. When was the last time you heard from William?"
MP: "William's in Europe, he'll be back later. Don't worry, William always finds a way out of sticky situations"
AP: "..."
MP: "Do you want to talk to his cousin? She knows computers, they might have contacted each other."
AP: "Umm... Yes please"
My parents pass phone over to my 16 year old cousin.
My cousin: "Hi"
AP: "Hi, when was the last time you heard from William?"
MC: "Last week"
AP: "Do you know where he is and if he's ok?"
MC: "Yeah, he's in Europe. He'll be back later."
AP: "Have you talked to him recently?"
MC: "No, but he always manages to get by. Don't worry"
Adrienne's Parents repeat our dire situation.
MC replies back "No worries, they'll be fine."
AP: "........."
AP: "Ok, thank you. Bye"
MC: "Ok, Bye!"
Adrienne received an email from her parents and her friends. I received not even a single email! Let's not go into further details about that...
[Updated] It's been a few days since I've been back and during a dinner my mom casually said, "Oh, while you were gone, someone called for you. It was someone's mom. They wanted to know where you were."
I laughed.
The Paris Train Station Incident
The Paris Train Station Incident
Almost all of our traveling was done by train due to Europe's highly efficient and relatively cheap public transportation system. With a magical ticket called the "Eurail pass", we were able to travel with ease from country to country. While this was another way to cut cost and maximize our time (sleep on the train ride so we don't have to pay for a hotel), as we found out, traveling from country to country doesn't necessarily mean a place to stay in each country (Read: The Night at Bruges Train Station). This was the case once again after we finished our day trip to Lyon, France.
It was approaching late evening when we returned to Paris and Adrienne reminded me that we had no place to stay for the night. Argh, I forgot about that! I think the adventure of traveling is sometimes ruined by trivial questions like "Where are we going to stay for the night? Where are we going to eat?" Not only do you have to answer those questions, but they're reoccurring questions that keep coming back night after night or every 4-6 hours.
This was another one of those nights that I forgot to pay attention to those pesky questions. Normally we would reserve a place to stay a whole 12 to 24 hours in advance. Today was not one of those days. We needed a place to stay at that exact moment, but couldn't find any help to locate a hostel. There was no one to ask for accommodations and no Internet access around. We were tired, hungry, and we had all our belongings with us. It looked like we were carrying so little, but it began to weigh exponentially heavier as time pressed on. Businesses had closed, including the restrooms, and even the train station looked like it was about to close soon. It was a depressing situation.
Adrienne looked around and started a desperate plan. She had the look of a caged animal trying whatever was necessary to impede the fate of sleeping at another train station. She probably remembered her near death experience in the Bruges Train Station and used that as fuel to help us find a place to stay. She came up with an elaborate plan of calling her parents in the United States in order to give them an update on our sad predicament, hoping that they could locate a nearby hostel online.
Unlike Adrienne, who was coordinating her complex plan that involved communication across 3000+ miles and relaying information from the super information highway, I had a much simpler plan. I walked outside the train station and poked around.
To be honest, at that moment, even though it was 10 p.m., we had no place to sleep, we didn't eat in the last 6 hours, and there was a group of hobos forming at the base of the train station, I only had one thing that preoccupied everything; I needed to pee.
Fueled by my urge to relieve myself, I hastily moved out while Adrienne stayed inside the train station to rest. She must have thought that I was looking valiantly for a nearby hostel. I was mainly searching outside the train station to look for a place to pee. I can't believe the restrooms were closed! How cruel are the French to close restrooms?! As my bladder began to fill and verge on the point of exploding, I started hating France and its stupid design!
Why couldn't they put a dark alley here or there? Who needs a restaurant there when it could be a nice dark alley?! While normally any sane traveler would dread approaching any dark alley, I was running around looking for one. I thought about asking people, but that would be slightly awkward even for me. "Excuse me sir, can you point me to a nice dark alley? I'm friendly, I promise I won't mug you!"
In my search, I finally found a hotel! I went inside to inquire about the price. We were desperate, but we were also very poor. 70 Euros a night for two people?! You've got to be kidding me! I thanked the concierge and walked out. I visited 3 more hotels before I found out that hotels within the vicinity ranged from 70 to 100 Euros per night, which seemed normal, but still much outside our price range. Still too stubborn, I continued on my quest to find a reasonably priced sleeping accommodation when I walked around a corner only to see our luck change.
Not more than half a block away I saw my miracle flashing before my eyes in a bright neon orange sign clearing stating "HOSTEL". Woot! We're saved! I asked inside and the price was approximately 35 Euros for two people with breakfast included. We had to hurry though, they only had one room left, they didn't accept credit cards, I didn't have enough cash on me, and there was no bank open.
I made it back to the train station and found Adrienne still on the phone. She had reached a snag in her complex plan. Apparently, she didn't expect her parents to put her on hold. Adrienne was pissed off that her family had put her on hold when she was calling halfways across the world (though in all fairness, it was her sibling's birthday and they were bringing out the cake).
The news of finding a hostel made her beam with happiness. She hung up the phone and we left for the hostel. We ended up having to combine our cash in order to barely have enough to pay for the night. We were paying the last couple Euros by scrounging up some of the .20 Euro coins that we had in our pockets.
We later found an ATM and were able to get some cash for dinner.
P.S. I was finally able to pee. Best. Piss. Ever.
Almost all of our traveling was done by train due to Europe's highly efficient and relatively cheap public transportation system. With a magical ticket called the "Eurail pass", we were able to travel with ease from country to country. While this was another way to cut cost and maximize our time (sleep on the train ride so we don't have to pay for a hotel), as we found out, traveling from country to country doesn't necessarily mean a place to stay in each country (Read: The Night at Bruges Train Station). This was the case once again after we finished our day trip to Lyon, France.
It was approaching late evening when we returned to Paris and Adrienne reminded me that we had no place to stay for the night. Argh, I forgot about that! I think the adventure of traveling is sometimes ruined by trivial questions like "Where are we going to stay for the night? Where are we going to eat?" Not only do you have to answer those questions, but they're reoccurring questions that keep coming back night after night or every 4-6 hours.
This was another one of those nights that I forgot to pay attention to those pesky questions. Normally we would reserve a place to stay a whole 12 to 24 hours in advance. Today was not one of those days. We needed a place to stay at that exact moment, but couldn't find any help to locate a hostel. There was no one to ask for accommodations and no Internet access around. We were tired, hungry, and we had all our belongings with us. It looked like we were carrying so little, but it began to weigh exponentially heavier as time pressed on. Businesses had closed, including the restrooms, and even the train station looked like it was about to close soon. It was a depressing situation.
Adrienne looked around and started a desperate plan. She had the look of a caged animal trying whatever was necessary to impede the fate of sleeping at another train station. She probably remembered her near death experience in the Bruges Train Station and used that as fuel to help us find a place to stay. She came up with an elaborate plan of calling her parents in the United States in order to give them an update on our sad predicament, hoping that they could locate a nearby hostel online.
Unlike Adrienne, who was coordinating her complex plan that involved communication across 3000+ miles and relaying information from the super information highway, I had a much simpler plan. I walked outside the train station and poked around.
To be honest, at that moment, even though it was 10 p.m., we had no place to sleep, we didn't eat in the last 6 hours, and there was a group of hobos forming at the base of the train station, I only had one thing that preoccupied everything; I needed to pee.
Fueled by my urge to relieve myself, I hastily moved out while Adrienne stayed inside the train station to rest. She must have thought that I was looking valiantly for a nearby hostel. I was mainly searching outside the train station to look for a place to pee. I can't believe the restrooms were closed! How cruel are the French to close restrooms?! As my bladder began to fill and verge on the point of exploding, I started hating France and its stupid design!
Why couldn't they put a dark alley here or there? Who needs a restaurant there when it could be a nice dark alley?! While normally any sane traveler would dread approaching any dark alley, I was running around looking for one. I thought about asking people, but that would be slightly awkward even for me. "Excuse me sir, can you point me to a nice dark alley? I'm friendly, I promise I won't mug you!"
In my search, I finally found a hotel! I went inside to inquire about the price. We were desperate, but we were also very poor. 70 Euros a night for two people?! You've got to be kidding me! I thanked the concierge and walked out. I visited 3 more hotels before I found out that hotels within the vicinity ranged from 70 to 100 Euros per night, which seemed normal, but still much outside our price range. Still too stubborn, I continued on my quest to find a reasonably priced sleeping accommodation when I walked around a corner only to see our luck change.
Not more than half a block away I saw my miracle flashing before my eyes in a bright neon orange sign clearing stating "HOSTEL". Woot! We're saved! I asked inside and the price was approximately 35 Euros for two people with breakfast included. We had to hurry though, they only had one room left, they didn't accept credit cards, I didn't have enough cash on me, and there was no bank open.
I made it back to the train station and found Adrienne still on the phone. She had reached a snag in her complex plan. Apparently, she didn't expect her parents to put her on hold. Adrienne was pissed off that her family had put her on hold when she was calling halfways across the world (though in all fairness, it was her sibling's birthday and they were bringing out the cake).
The news of finding a hostel made her beam with happiness. She hung up the phone and we left for the hostel. We ended up having to combine our cash in order to barely have enough to pay for the night. We were paying the last couple Euros by scrounging up some of the .20 Euro coins that we had in our pockets.
We later found an ATM and were able to get some cash for dinner.
P.S. I was finally able to pee. Best. Piss. Ever.
The Night at Bruges Train Station
The Night at Bruges Train Station
I woke up feeling fairly refreshed - well considering I had just slept 6 hours in a train station. I quickly glanced at my watch; we had another hour to kill before the train to Paris arrives. Feeling quite jovial about getting some decent rest and waking up on time, I looked over at Adrienne to see how she was faring.
Oh Shit! Adrienne looked pale, an almost deathly pale! My heart immediately began to beat faster and my mind raced with logical explanations. Its one of those feelings that makes you wake up instantly regardless of how deep asleep you were moments before. Who needs coffee to start the day when you could wake up to see that the only person you know within a 300 mile radius just might be nothing more than a cold corpse?
There has to be a logical explanation though. Maybe she just saw a ghost walking by. Maybe its normal for Adrienne to sleep with her eyes open and I just didn't make that observation until now. Or it could be the more likely scenario and the one that I dreaded; maybe she's borderline hypothermia. Freezing to death in a train station during Winter in order to save 30 Euros, how am I going to explain that to her parents?
I thought back. Before I fell asleep, she had complained about how cold the temperature was. I had given her my warmest jacket, a jacket that I used before for snowboarding. That jacket kept me warm enough in the harshest environments and although it was cold, I was wearing only a fleece in comparison. I thought it should keep her warm enough to survive in a building. Along with my snowboarding jacket, she also wore both her jackets, a sweater, a scarf, a beanie, and her thermals. She looked like a hulking pile of mismatched clothes.
At the very least I thought she would be a hulking pile of warm clothes. I poked her to see if Adrienne was alive. Much to my relief, she was. The conversation went pretty much like this:
William: "Hey. Adrienne. Are you alive?"
*Few seconds of eerie silence passes by*
Adrienne: "Yes."
William: "You feeling ok?"
Adrienne: "No."
William: "Ahh, sorry to hear that. Anything I can do?"
Adrienne: "No."
William: "Did you even get any sleep?"
Adrienne: "No."
William: "Ahh... ummm... Hey by the way, thanks for watching over our stuff. Just to let ya know I got some good sleep in. Why didn't you wake me up when it was my turn? Oh, we should do this more often. You know we just saved 30 Euros?"
Adrienne stares daggers at me.
I got Adrienne to get up and walk around the train station to get some blood circulation going. Whatever it was, she ended up throwing up. To say the least, we never slept at another train station for the rest of our trip. At that point we had traveled to three new countries, seen a lot of amazing new sites, and been in a few interesting predicaments (one which involved some stranger trying to sell us some ecstasy in Amsterdam). Needless to say though, this was the first time in our trip that I was really worried, if even for just a fleeting moment.
----------
The Amsterdam Story - Sorry, but you'll have to ask me in person about this one. If I don't remember, jot my memory by asking me what was under my pillow.
I woke up feeling fairly refreshed - well considering I had just slept 6 hours in a train station. I quickly glanced at my watch; we had another hour to kill before the train to Paris arrives. Feeling quite jovial about getting some decent rest and waking up on time, I looked over at Adrienne to see how she was faring.
Oh Shit! Adrienne looked pale, an almost deathly pale! My heart immediately began to beat faster and my mind raced with logical explanations. Its one of those feelings that makes you wake up instantly regardless of how deep asleep you were moments before. Who needs coffee to start the day when you could wake up to see that the only person you know within a 300 mile radius just might be nothing more than a cold corpse?
There has to be a logical explanation though. Maybe she just saw a ghost walking by. Maybe its normal for Adrienne to sleep with her eyes open and I just didn't make that observation until now. Or it could be the more likely scenario and the one that I dreaded; maybe she's borderline hypothermia. Freezing to death in a train station during Winter in order to save 30 Euros, how am I going to explain that to her parents?
I thought back. Before I fell asleep, she had complained about how cold the temperature was. I had given her my warmest jacket, a jacket that I used before for snowboarding. That jacket kept me warm enough in the harshest environments and although it was cold, I was wearing only a fleece in comparison. I thought it should keep her warm enough to survive in a building. Along with my snowboarding jacket, she also wore both her jackets, a sweater, a scarf, a beanie, and her thermals. She looked like a hulking pile of mismatched clothes.
At the very least I thought she would be a hulking pile of warm clothes. I poked her to see if Adrienne was alive. Much to my relief, she was. The conversation went pretty much like this:
William: "Hey. Adrienne. Are you alive?"
*Few seconds of eerie silence passes by*
Adrienne: "Yes."
William: "You feeling ok?"
Adrienne: "No."
William: "Ahh, sorry to hear that. Anything I can do?"
Adrienne: "No."
William: "Did you even get any sleep?"
Adrienne: "No."
William: "Ahh... ummm... Hey by the way, thanks for watching over our stuff. Just to let ya know I got some good sleep in. Why didn't you wake me up when it was my turn? Oh, we should do this more often. You know we just saved 30 Euros?"
Adrienne stares daggers at me.
I got Adrienne to get up and walk around the train station to get some blood circulation going. Whatever it was, she ended up throwing up. To say the least, we never slept at another train station for the rest of our trip. At that point we had traveled to three new countries, seen a lot of amazing new sites, and been in a few interesting predicaments (one which involved some stranger trying to sell us some ecstasy in Amsterdam). Needless to say though, this was the first time in our trip that I was really worried, if even for just a fleeting moment.
----------
The Amsterdam Story - Sorry, but you'll have to ask me in person about this one. If I don't remember, jot my memory by asking me what was under my pillow.
Monday, January 1, 2007
New Year
Argh!!! My sharp bush knife dropped, thankfully not severing any of my fingers or toes while on its twelve foot descent down towards the sandy beach. That would have been a bad start to a New Year. I pushed the thought away and focused on the task at hand. The coconuts were just another foot out of reach, but since my blade decided to follow gravity at the worst possible moment, I was unable to claim my green treasures.
Twelve feet doesn’t seem far, but when you’re hacking into the resistance of the trunk of a tree every foot with your knife, then hauling yourself up a few mere inches, only to repeat the process again until you reach the top, it becomes quickly tiring.
The last time I had tried to climb a coconut tree was in Uoleva where I miserably failed to ascend (almost as badly as my pronunciation of Uoleva). There, I had done what my body instinctively told me to do; I hugged the tree with dear life, with the thoughts that if I fell, no one could really help me (since the earliest medical care that could arrive would be more aptly measured in weeks than days)
The fear caused me to hug too closely and thus fail in the vertical expedition up that blasted tree. (When you hug too close to the tree, you use a lot of inner thigh muscle, one of many underdeveloped muscles in my body.) For that trip, we had to improvise and poke the coconuts out of the tree with a long stick. That tactic only proved moderately successful. I had to change my tree climbing style if I were to be truly successful at surviving island life.
Now, I learned of my past follies. I didn’t have any less regard for my life, but instead I developed a more refined technique of climbing coconut trees. In order to climb the tree, I had to extend my back further out. I changed my style so that it allowed the use of more muscles, some of which I had even been developing from going to the 'gym'. I climbed without the knife this time, remembering that I could simply twist the coconuts off their stems. The knife only caused me to expend more energy so I dropped the dead weight.
Before I knew it, I was at the top of the tree and four coconuts were sitting on the bottom. I took a quick glance over the small island and it gave me a spectacular view of the surrounding islands. There was the swift channel that a few friends and I had swam / kayaked out with our camping supplies.
These people were the type of people you wanted to go camping with. If camping were a sporting event, these would be your first draft picks. Along with their expert knowledge in wildlife, their sound common sense, and their uplifting attitudes, they also did all the planning and decided what supplies to bring. You can’t go wrong there!
The food was excellent; their camping food was better than the best of my home cooked meals. Their company was great; I just can’t imagine a better way to start off the New Year in Ha’apai. A fellow camper even caught and released a small shark, that’s got to be a good sign! (It's so hypocritical for humans to blame sharks for eating us when there's so many of us that eat them)
Words can’t really describe how unfortunate it is that the two fellow volunteers would be leaving soon though. Even if they didn’t arrange trips, or make the best meals in Tonga, their down to earth personalities suggested that they would still be first round picks in camping.
To say the least, it’ll be tough without them here. With all of the unfortunate events in Tonga over the past year, with the earthquake, the hurricane, and the death of their best friend/fellow Peace Corps volunteer, I hope that this New Year could fare much better for them.
I like to believe in Karma and with their unselfish acts of improving the current program for future volunteers, I think they have lots of good events coming their way. Here’s to change and lots of coconuts!
Twelve feet doesn’t seem far, but when you’re hacking into the resistance of the trunk of a tree every foot with your knife, then hauling yourself up a few mere inches, only to repeat the process again until you reach the top, it becomes quickly tiring.
The last time I had tried to climb a coconut tree was in Uoleva where I miserably failed to ascend (almost as badly as my pronunciation of Uoleva). There, I had done what my body instinctively told me to do; I hugged the tree with dear life, with the thoughts that if I fell, no one could really help me (since the earliest medical care that could arrive would be more aptly measured in weeks than days)
The fear caused me to hug too closely and thus fail in the vertical expedition up that blasted tree. (When you hug too close to the tree, you use a lot of inner thigh muscle, one of many underdeveloped muscles in my body.) For that trip, we had to improvise and poke the coconuts out of the tree with a long stick. That tactic only proved moderately successful. I had to change my tree climbing style if I were to be truly successful at surviving island life.
Now, I learned of my past follies. I didn’t have any less regard for my life, but instead I developed a more refined technique of climbing coconut trees. In order to climb the tree, I had to extend my back further out. I changed my style so that it allowed the use of more muscles, some of which I had even been developing from going to the 'gym'. I climbed without the knife this time, remembering that I could simply twist the coconuts off their stems. The knife only caused me to expend more energy so I dropped the dead weight.
Before I knew it, I was at the top of the tree and four coconuts were sitting on the bottom. I took a quick glance over the small island and it gave me a spectacular view of the surrounding islands. There was the swift channel that a few friends and I had swam / kayaked out with our camping supplies.
These people were the type of people you wanted to go camping with. If camping were a sporting event, these would be your first draft picks. Along with their expert knowledge in wildlife, their sound common sense, and their uplifting attitudes, they also did all the planning and decided what supplies to bring. You can’t go wrong there!
The food was excellent; their camping food was better than the best of my home cooked meals. Their company was great; I just can’t imagine a better way to start off the New Year in Ha’apai. A fellow camper even caught and released a small shark, that’s got to be a good sign! (It's so hypocritical for humans to blame sharks for eating us when there's so many of us that eat them)
Words can’t really describe how unfortunate it is that the two fellow volunteers would be leaving soon though. Even if they didn’t arrange trips, or make the best meals in Tonga, their down to earth personalities suggested that they would still be first round picks in camping.
To say the least, it’ll be tough without them here. With all of the unfortunate events in Tonga over the past year, with the earthquake, the hurricane, and the death of their best friend/fellow Peace Corps volunteer, I hope that this New Year could fare much better for them.
I like to believe in Karma and with their unselfish acts of improving the current program for future volunteers, I think they have lots of good events coming their way. Here’s to change and lots of coconuts!
Saturday, November 4, 2006
The Seat less Wonder + Refrigerator High + Ice Cream Medic
Saturday, November 04, 2006
Duct Tape. If you've ever watched Star Wars, you might make the far off connection that duct tape has a few similarities with the 'Force'; they both have a light side, a dark side, and they both hold the world together.
Ok, maybe duct tape can't hold the fabric of the space-time continuum together as well as the 'Force', but it was an essential tool in solving the "Seatless Wonder". The "Seatless Wonder" is another Peace Corps volunteer's bike that I had brought down to Ha'apai.
Like its name implies, it has no seat. There's only a dangerous metallic stump where the seat should be attached. Since we had no wrenches to remove the stump, it only served as a shining warning to any rider that it was quite capable of tearing a new @-hole to anyone who dared sit down.
We never bothered to solve the problem until now, mainly because of our innate laziness and now only out of necessity; another volunteer and I needed a means of transportation to Sandy Beach, the only 'palangi' beach nearby. We had two bikes, one fully operational and the other being the 'Seatless Wonder'. We were too cheap to pay for a taxi and too lazy to run so we had to fix
the 'Seatless Wonder' with the only other wonder we had at hand, the wonder of duct tape.
To form the new seat, I used leftover pieces of cardboard (from when I was making my Optimus Prime Halloween costume), the soft packaging that Nathan used to protect the CD's he sent over, a soft sandal that we found lying on the street, and the bubble wrap package (that a Tongatapu volunteer used to send me a can opener).
This was all combined and held together with enormous quantities of duct tape. I wish I could say that the project was a complete success. However, it was not. I realized this as soon as the bike went bumping into potholes after potholes. At that moment, I realized how I was going to die. It wouldn't be some random coconut that would fall on my head, or some tsunami that appears too quickly before I'd be able to follow the expert advice of my Safety and Security Officer to "climb a coconut tree."
No, my cause of death would be some form of internal bleeding. There were simply not enough cushions for the bumpy dirt roads of a developing country. My design was flawed in more ways than one though. The seat had been moved up a bit so as to be slightly awkward and very
uncomfortable.
It was as if I were riding a bicycle that was comically small, like one of the clowns performing their act with the traveling circus. The rider's knees are bent and arched slightly outwards. Each pedal works enough strange muscles that it finally makes you wonder if the bicycle is really causing more effort than simply walking.
We finally scrapped the plans to go to Sandy Beach because of our flawed engineering. Instead, we bought ice cream, got light-headed off the vapors of a now broken refrigerator, and made quesadillas.
Note: Do not clear the frozen ice in a refrigerator with a machete. We accidentally destroyed a pipe filled with coolant, which released a vapor that made us instantly light-headed.
Duct Tape. If you've ever watched Star Wars, you might make the far off connection that duct tape has a few similarities with the 'Force'; they both have a light side, a dark side, and they both hold the world together.
Ok, maybe duct tape can't hold the fabric of the space-time continuum together as well as the 'Force', but it was an essential tool in solving the "Seatless Wonder". The "Seatless Wonder" is another Peace Corps volunteer's bike that I had brought down to Ha'apai.
Like its name implies, it has no seat. There's only a dangerous metallic stump where the seat should be attached. Since we had no wrenches to remove the stump, it only served as a shining warning to any rider that it was quite capable of tearing a new @-hole to anyone who dared sit down.
We never bothered to solve the problem until now, mainly because of our innate laziness and now only out of necessity; another volunteer and I needed a means of transportation to Sandy Beach, the only 'palangi' beach nearby. We had two bikes, one fully operational and the other being the 'Seatless Wonder'. We were too cheap to pay for a taxi and too lazy to run so we had to fix
the 'Seatless Wonder' with the only other wonder we had at hand, the wonder of duct tape.
To form the new seat, I used leftover pieces of cardboard (from when I was making my Optimus Prime Halloween costume), the soft packaging that Nathan used to protect the CD's he sent over, a soft sandal that we found lying on the street, and the bubble wrap package (that a Tongatapu volunteer used to send me a can opener).
This was all combined and held together with enormous quantities of duct tape. I wish I could say that the project was a complete success. However, it was not. I realized this as soon as the bike went bumping into potholes after potholes. At that moment, I realized how I was going to die. It wouldn't be some random coconut that would fall on my head, or some tsunami that appears too quickly before I'd be able to follow the expert advice of my Safety and Security Officer to "climb a coconut tree."
No, my cause of death would be some form of internal bleeding. There were simply not enough cushions for the bumpy dirt roads of a developing country. My design was flawed in more ways than one though. The seat had been moved up a bit so as to be slightly awkward and very
uncomfortable.
It was as if I were riding a bicycle that was comically small, like one of the clowns performing their act with the traveling circus. The rider's knees are bent and arched slightly outwards. Each pedal works enough strange muscles that it finally makes you wonder if the bicycle is really causing more effort than simply walking.
We finally scrapped the plans to go to Sandy Beach because of our flawed engineering. Instead, we bought ice cream, got light-headed off the vapors of a now broken refrigerator, and made quesadillas.
Note: Do not clear the frozen ice in a refrigerator with a machete. We accidentally destroyed a pipe filled with coolant, which released a vapor that made us instantly light-headed.
Thursday, November 2, 2006
Packages
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Good day.
I walked up to the post office for about the 6th time in the last two weeks. The post office employees were probably sick of seeing me so frequently. Today was the day that my package would come; I could feel it in the air! Jim, however, wasn't quite as optimistic about the Tongan mail system. Well, he did have a valid point since I had been hopelessly optimistic for the past week to no avail.
The mail system in Ha'apai seems to be even more faulty than in the rest of Tonga. Our mail comes once a week on the boat, and the last time the boat arrived, the mail wasn't retrieved. I questioned one of the locals, who replied in a surprisingly casual manner. "Oh yeah, no mail.
The guy who was supposed to get the mail was asleep. You might want to try next week."
Umm... ok
My parents had informed me about a package that they sent a while ago. For those that don't know, packages and mail in the Peace Corps are priceless to volunteers.
Here, in some weird way, it means a bit more when it comes to receiving things. Maybe it's because we have so much more time to go back through letters and reread them. Maybe it's because of how long it actually takes to send and receive items. Maybe it's because the material possessions that we are accustomed to are so hard to get here. Or maybe it's the knowledge that you're not just a four-hour drive away on the 5 from the place you grew up.
Whatever the reason, my eyes gleamed with renewed vigor when I saw that there was a fresh pile of boxes and mail. The pile wasn't very impressive by any standards; it was just a disheveled stack of maybe 50 envelopes and 4 boxes lying on the table, but it was a bright ray of hope for me.
My heart started to race as I asked the now familiar Tongan sitting at the front counter if there were any packages for the Peace Corps volunteers. She waited a few seconds before giving me a reply (or before doing anything for that matter). It seemed as if she was relishing every
moment that I was waiting in anticipation. Then she said a quick "No, sorry, maybe next time".
Darn. I turned around and started to leave, but then I remembered how 'specific' you have to be when asking Tongans anything. I reworded the question and asked if I had any mail (instead of
packages). Before she even so much as glances at the pile of letters, she says "Oh yes you do!"
Argh, she was one step away from letting me leave the post office, all the while knowing that I had mail!
She rummaged through the mail and took out a few pieces of mail. In turn I thanked her and headed back to the Peace Corps office, expecting the inevitable "I told you so" reply from Jim about the expected package. Before I could step out the door again, she quickly exclaimed... "Oh wait, Jim has a box." The post office didn't have my package, but they had one for Jim! Gee, what an ideal opportunity for him to rub it in.
I went back to the office to let Jim know that he had a package waiting for him. When I got there, the phone rang. He answered it and left the room for a moment. I wasn't sure if he was joking, but he walked in, and said that the lady from the post office called. The message was that I did have a box! WTF?! I couldn't tell if he was joking or not. Oh well, this is Tonga after all and I had nothing better to do than to make another trip...
So I went in again to the post office really hoping that they had something else for me, more so now so that I didn't give the false impression that I was a crazy guy who keeps coming back for mail that never arrives. Low and behold, I didn't have a package, I didn't have mail, but instead I had a 'parcel'. Lesson learned; be particularly careful with wording
questions in Tonga...
This package... err, parcel, had 'Family Guy' episodes, lots of movies that my family and I used to watch, a couple of language books (so I could try to pick up a bit of Mandarin), a 230 Gigabyte hard drive (larger than all the hard drives in my computer center put together), and some cooking spices.
I had asked for my family to send me the DVD box of 'Family Guy' that we had lying around, although it was scattered about the house and would probably require the use of a shovel and treasure map to recover. My cousin went above and beyond my request; she downloaded the entire series and put it on the hard drive!! Woot! Thanks to everyone, especially Dora =)
Good day.
I walked up to the post office for about the 6th time in the last two weeks. The post office employees were probably sick of seeing me so frequently. Today was the day that my package would come; I could feel it in the air! Jim, however, wasn't quite as optimistic about the Tongan mail system. Well, he did have a valid point since I had been hopelessly optimistic for the past week to no avail.
The mail system in Ha'apai seems to be even more faulty than in the rest of Tonga. Our mail comes once a week on the boat, and the last time the boat arrived, the mail wasn't retrieved. I questioned one of the locals, who replied in a surprisingly casual manner. "Oh yeah, no mail.
The guy who was supposed to get the mail was asleep. You might want to try next week."
Umm... ok
My parents had informed me about a package that they sent a while ago. For those that don't know, packages and mail in the Peace Corps are priceless to volunteers.
Here, in some weird way, it means a bit more when it comes to receiving things. Maybe it's because we have so much more time to go back through letters and reread them. Maybe it's because of how long it actually takes to send and receive items. Maybe it's because the material possessions that we are accustomed to are so hard to get here. Or maybe it's the knowledge that you're not just a four-hour drive away on the 5 from the place you grew up.
Whatever the reason, my eyes gleamed with renewed vigor when I saw that there was a fresh pile of boxes and mail. The pile wasn't very impressive by any standards; it was just a disheveled stack of maybe 50 envelopes and 4 boxes lying on the table, but it was a bright ray of hope for me.
My heart started to race as I asked the now familiar Tongan sitting at the front counter if there were any packages for the Peace Corps volunteers. She waited a few seconds before giving me a reply (or before doing anything for that matter). It seemed as if she was relishing every
moment that I was waiting in anticipation. Then she said a quick "No, sorry, maybe next time".
Darn. I turned around and started to leave, but then I remembered how 'specific' you have to be when asking Tongans anything. I reworded the question and asked if I had any mail (instead of
packages). Before she even so much as glances at the pile of letters, she says "Oh yes you do!"
Argh, she was one step away from letting me leave the post office, all the while knowing that I had mail!
She rummaged through the mail and took out a few pieces of mail. In turn I thanked her and headed back to the Peace Corps office, expecting the inevitable "I told you so" reply from Jim about the expected package. Before I could step out the door again, she quickly exclaimed... "Oh wait, Jim has a box." The post office didn't have my package, but they had one for Jim! Gee, what an ideal opportunity for him to rub it in.
I went back to the office to let Jim know that he had a package waiting for him. When I got there, the phone rang. He answered it and left the room for a moment. I wasn't sure if he was joking, but he walked in, and said that the lady from the post office called. The message was that I did have a box! WTF?! I couldn't tell if he was joking or not. Oh well, this is Tonga after all and I had nothing better to do than to make another trip...
So I went in again to the post office really hoping that they had something else for me, more so now so that I didn't give the false impression that I was a crazy guy who keeps coming back for mail that never arrives. Low and behold, I didn't have a package, I didn't have mail, but instead I had a 'parcel'. Lesson learned; be particularly careful with wording
questions in Tonga...
This package... err, parcel, had 'Family Guy' episodes, lots of movies that my family and I used to watch, a couple of language books (so I could try to pick up a bit of Mandarin), a 230 Gigabyte hard drive (larger than all the hard drives in my computer center put together), and some cooking spices.
I had asked for my family to send me the DVD box of 'Family Guy' that we had lying around, although it was scattered about the house and would probably require the use of a shovel and treasure map to recover. My cousin went above and beyond my request; she downloaded the entire series and put it on the hard drive!! Woot! Thanks to everyone, especially Dora =)
Wednesday, November 1, 2006
Happy Halloween
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
The van traveled a few more meters, and then came to an abrupt halt. I couldn't quite make out the exact details on the driver's face because it was the middle of the night. However, the contorted facial features of the driver revealed either a hint of hysteria or the expression of someone trying desperately to hold in their laughter.
Whichever it was, I couldn't blame her reaction. Imagine being in a developing country where pigs roam the streets freely, a place so conservative that religion dominates Sunday life, a place where the majority of the population have probably never stepped foot outside their island, and where the concept of Halloween is unbeknownst.
Then imagine seeing a masked cowboy with a pair of fake six shooters belted at the hip, a cardboard robot barely held together with duct tape, a molikau with pipe cleaner legs and a wicked stinger, plus an intimidating eye-patched pirate walking alongside one another in the middle of the island's main road.
We must have been quite the sight because not only did the vehicle stop; it literally peeled back in reverse for a closer inspection! There went the possibility of hysteria gripping the driver and her passengers.
They came back and we saw some very amused, yet confused faces. Our molikau representative stepped up and explained to them that it was Halloween. I'm not sure if the Tongans fully comprehended Halloween, but they all nodded in agreement that it looked fun, if not slightly
insane.
Afternote: Halloween was a blast!! The Ha'apai volunteers kick ass. Some of the pictures that we got are priceless. I try to explain everything with words, but this is one of those moments where I don't think any words would do it justice.
Needless to say, Optimus Prime is now my new roommate. Who else can say that they have the supreme commander of the Autobot forces living a room away from them?
The van traveled a few more meters, and then came to an abrupt halt. I couldn't quite make out the exact details on the driver's face because it was the middle of the night. However, the contorted facial features of the driver revealed either a hint of hysteria or the expression of someone trying desperately to hold in their laughter.
Whichever it was, I couldn't blame her reaction. Imagine being in a developing country where pigs roam the streets freely, a place so conservative that religion dominates Sunday life, a place where the majority of the population have probably never stepped foot outside their island, and where the concept of Halloween is unbeknownst.
Then imagine seeing a masked cowboy with a pair of fake six shooters belted at the hip, a cardboard robot barely held together with duct tape, a molikau with pipe cleaner legs and a wicked stinger, plus an intimidating eye-patched pirate walking alongside one another in the middle of the island's main road.
We must have been quite the sight because not only did the vehicle stop; it literally peeled back in reverse for a closer inspection! There went the possibility of hysteria gripping the driver and her passengers.
They came back and we saw some very amused, yet confused faces. Our molikau representative stepped up and explained to them that it was Halloween. I'm not sure if the Tongans fully comprehended Halloween, but they all nodded in agreement that it looked fun, if not slightly
insane.
Afternote: Halloween was a blast!! The Ha'apai volunteers kick ass. Some of the pictures that we got are priceless. I try to explain everything with words, but this is one of those moments where I don't think any words would do it justice.
Needless to say, Optimus Prime is now my new roommate. Who else can say that they have the supreme commander of the Autobot forces living a room away from them?
Thursday, October 26, 2006
4:01 a.m.
Thursday, October 26, 2006 – 4:01 a.m.
It's 4 a.m. and although my opportunities to sleep has been both sparse and sporadic, I'm currently wide-awake. Approximately 30 minutes ago, I had the opportunity to repay the married Peace Corps volunteers that had helped me haul books and computers up two flights of stairs the night before.
(30 minutes ago)
Clunk Clunk Clunk!!! It was the sound of two empty oil drums rolling across hundreds of tiny rocks and pebbles in the middle of the night. No, let me restate that with a bit more emphasis on what actually occurred. It was the sound of two empty oil drums proudly declaring to the entire village of Pangai that they were in fact, two hollow oil drums rolling across hundreds of tiny rocks through the main street and boldly approaching the police and fire station.
Shadows were poking out of recently lit homes as Tongans started peeking out their windows to see who was stupid enough to create that much noise in that brief time of day when it was neither completely night nor morning.
It probably wasn't too shocking when they found their answer; it was two Peace Corps volunteers. It was two Peace Corps volunteers whose muscles ached from carrying the heavy 50-pound oil drums on their backs all the way from the wharf. It was one Peace Corps volunteer in particular, who learned that the empty oil drums weren't exactly empty per say.
With still a bit of sleep deficiency, the adrenaline beginning to wear off, and my hands soaked in some foul grease, I had decided that the oil drums needed to be moved off my back and transported with a bit more ease. While it wasn't our intention to disturb the entire village, we weren't exactly thrilled (or physically capable) of having to lug heavy oil drums for miles in our flip flops. After lugging them as far as we could, we finally decided to simply give swift kicks to the drums until we were at the police station. Once we arrived at the police station, we just decided to carry the barrels on our backs once again for the remainder of the trip to the Peace Corps office.
The oil drums will be used as trash cans on the outer island where the married Peace Corps volunteers currently live. It takes over 20 combined man hours of watching for the barrels, two trips by ship, carrying (and kicking) said barrels through a good portion of town, a taxi, and rolling the drums up a large hill before an outer island sees something as simple as a 'trash can'.
Peace Corps, it's definitely not a 9-5 job in Ha'apai. Over the last few days, my definition of 'a lot of sleep' has changed from 12 hours a day to a full 5 hours a day. I'll try to catch some naps while Windows and Linux is being installed onto the new computers.
As a side note, I went over to the business building and low and behold, there was no electricity in the computer room. For the time being, I'm running an extension cable from the far side of the building so I'm able to work on one computer at a time.
I bumped into my counterpart and asked him if he could turn on the electricity in that room. He nodded, but he gave me an incredulous look that said, "Great... first you want computers and now you're already asking for electricity? What am I going to do with you? How can I keep up with these weird demands?!" You Peace Corps volunteers sure are a strange lot...
It's 4 a.m. and although my opportunities to sleep has been both sparse and sporadic, I'm currently wide-awake. Approximately 30 minutes ago, I had the opportunity to repay the married Peace Corps volunteers that had helped me haul books and computers up two flights of stairs the night before.
(30 minutes ago)
Clunk Clunk Clunk!!! It was the sound of two empty oil drums rolling across hundreds of tiny rocks and pebbles in the middle of the night. No, let me restate that with a bit more emphasis on what actually occurred. It was the sound of two empty oil drums proudly declaring to the entire village of Pangai that they were in fact, two hollow oil drums rolling across hundreds of tiny rocks through the main street and boldly approaching the police and fire station.
Shadows were poking out of recently lit homes as Tongans started peeking out their windows to see who was stupid enough to create that much noise in that brief time of day when it was neither completely night nor morning.
It probably wasn't too shocking when they found their answer; it was two Peace Corps volunteers. It was two Peace Corps volunteers whose muscles ached from carrying the heavy 50-pound oil drums on their backs all the way from the wharf. It was one Peace Corps volunteer in particular, who learned that the empty oil drums weren't exactly empty per say.
With still a bit of sleep deficiency, the adrenaline beginning to wear off, and my hands soaked in some foul grease, I had decided that the oil drums needed to be moved off my back and transported with a bit more ease. While it wasn't our intention to disturb the entire village, we weren't exactly thrilled (or physically capable) of having to lug heavy oil drums for miles in our flip flops. After lugging them as far as we could, we finally decided to simply give swift kicks to the drums until we were at the police station. Once we arrived at the police station, we just decided to carry the barrels on our backs once again for the remainder of the trip to the Peace Corps office.
The oil drums will be used as trash cans on the outer island where the married Peace Corps volunteers currently live. It takes over 20 combined man hours of watching for the barrels, two trips by ship, carrying (and kicking) said barrels through a good portion of town, a taxi, and rolling the drums up a large hill before an outer island sees something as simple as a 'trash can'.
Peace Corps, it's definitely not a 9-5 job in Ha'apai. Over the last few days, my definition of 'a lot of sleep' has changed from 12 hours a day to a full 5 hours a day. I'll try to catch some naps while Windows and Linux is being installed onto the new computers.
As a side note, I went over to the business building and low and behold, there was no electricity in the computer room. For the time being, I'm running an extension cable from the far side of the building so I'm able to work on one computer at a time.
I bumped into my counterpart and asked him if he could turn on the electricity in that room. He nodded, but he gave me an incredulous look that said, "Great... first you want computers and now you're already asking for electricity? What am I going to do with you? How can I keep up with these weird demands?!" You Peace Corps volunteers sure are a strange lot...
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
The application of brute force
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
It was 3 a.m.; roughly 10 Tongans and 4 Peace Corps volunteers stood huddled around 5 massive crates at the Ha'apai docks. The beam emitting from an LED flashlight shined directly onto the group's collective fears; the keys that we held in hand did not fit into the crate's burly lock. It was the only obstacle that prevented us from retrieving our cargo.
Unknown to us at the moment, in those crates were approximately 10,000 books, 37 refurbished desktops, 40 Cathode Ray Tube computer monitors, and the combined admirable efforts of countless individuals who donated their time and material possessions to people they've never met.
Although the cargo had made the trip of over a thousand miles to some of the most untouched parts of the world, we still had to complete the final step of getting everything into the third floor of the business building before vandals or rain could ruin the contents inside. We all momentarily looked at the sky, hoping that Tonga's fickle weather would play nice.
I pondered the predicament. The reinforced steel lock could have been considered one of the finest crafted devices 1000 years ago. On the exterior, a logo of the manufacture had been delicately etched into a thin layer of brass before being encased in hardened steel. In the interior, chamber after chamber of tiny pins determined the current state of the lock. Given only a few ounces of pressure at specific internal locations and we would have been allowed access to the contents of the crates. We momentarily tried bashing the lock from the outside using hand sized rocks, but each attempt only lowered the groups' hopes.
I looked around at the rest of the volunteers. I image we all wore a sort of weary resignation; a look that was half the result of sleep deprivation and half the effect of looking into a high quality deadlock that wouldn't give. I could no longer feel the effects of the coffee that we drank a few hours past and I was just moments away from calling it a night.
Thud!!! The Tongans were reluctant to give up and were already improvising. We turned around just in time to see another clash between technology and primitive raw energy. This time the primitive raw energy came in the shape of a lead pipe that smashed against the lock to no avail. After a few minutes, the Tongans agreed that the lead pipe was virtually useless. However, the Tongans didn't skip a beat before their next plan was hatched.
Another Tongan had run off a few feet to grab a jagged rock weighing in at least 15lbs. I liked their thinking; if smashing something with a rock was ineffective, that means your rock was too small. This specific rock, a crude instrument probably used well over 1000 years ago, still proved to be very effective. With just three strikes, the primitive rock had successfully bypassed the different layers of complex chambers and pins built within the lock. In a final loud clank, the lock released its firm grasp, and hung loosely in defeat.
Over the course of the next few hours, we moved the contents of all the crates up to the third floor (which with our luck happened to be the highest point in Pangai). We had waited there all night and a couple of hours in the morning for the boat. By the time we were finished unpacking, it was 7 a.m and many of us had not slept for over 30 hours.
We all had a meeting scheduled at 10 a.m. and I had another meeting at noon with my supervisor (who just flew in from Nuku'alofa). I believe its karma making me work for all my lost hours in the last month. I have no complaints here; I'm glad I have something to do now.
Ironically enough, the same lock from the crate is still intact and now secures the iron-gate to the third floor of our building. If it weren't for the faint scratch on the surface, no one could even guess that it had a previous encounter with a lead pipe and a massive rock. Inevitably the security that the lock provides, like any sense of security, is only an illusion.
It was 3 a.m.; roughly 10 Tongans and 4 Peace Corps volunteers stood huddled around 5 massive crates at the Ha'apai docks. The beam emitting from an LED flashlight shined directly onto the group's collective fears; the keys that we held in hand did not fit into the crate's burly lock. It was the only obstacle that prevented us from retrieving our cargo.
Unknown to us at the moment, in those crates were approximately 10,000 books, 37 refurbished desktops, 40 Cathode Ray Tube computer monitors, and the combined admirable efforts of countless individuals who donated their time and material possessions to people they've never met.
Although the cargo had made the trip of over a thousand miles to some of the most untouched parts of the world, we still had to complete the final step of getting everything into the third floor of the business building before vandals or rain could ruin the contents inside. We all momentarily looked at the sky, hoping that Tonga's fickle weather would play nice.
I pondered the predicament. The reinforced steel lock could have been considered one of the finest crafted devices 1000 years ago. On the exterior, a logo of the manufacture had been delicately etched into a thin layer of brass before being encased in hardened steel. In the interior, chamber after chamber of tiny pins determined the current state of the lock. Given only a few ounces of pressure at specific internal locations and we would have been allowed access to the contents of the crates. We momentarily tried bashing the lock from the outside using hand sized rocks, but each attempt only lowered the groups' hopes.
I looked around at the rest of the volunteers. I image we all wore a sort of weary resignation; a look that was half the result of sleep deprivation and half the effect of looking into a high quality deadlock that wouldn't give. I could no longer feel the effects of the coffee that we drank a few hours past and I was just moments away from calling it a night.
Thud!!! The Tongans were reluctant to give up and were already improvising. We turned around just in time to see another clash between technology and primitive raw energy. This time the primitive raw energy came in the shape of a lead pipe that smashed against the lock to no avail. After a few minutes, the Tongans agreed that the lead pipe was virtually useless. However, the Tongans didn't skip a beat before their next plan was hatched.
Another Tongan had run off a few feet to grab a jagged rock weighing in at least 15lbs. I liked their thinking; if smashing something with a rock was ineffective, that means your rock was too small. This specific rock, a crude instrument probably used well over 1000 years ago, still proved to be very effective. With just three strikes, the primitive rock had successfully bypassed the different layers of complex chambers and pins built within the lock. In a final loud clank, the lock released its firm grasp, and hung loosely in defeat.
Over the course of the next few hours, we moved the contents of all the crates up to the third floor (which with our luck happened to be the highest point in Pangai). We had waited there all night and a couple of hours in the morning for the boat. By the time we were finished unpacking, it was 7 a.m and many of us had not slept for over 30 hours.
We all had a meeting scheduled at 10 a.m. and I had another meeting at noon with my supervisor (who just flew in from Nuku'alofa). I believe its karma making me work for all my lost hours in the last month. I have no complaints here; I'm glad I have something to do now.
Ironically enough, the same lock from the crate is still intact and now secures the iron-gate to the third floor of our building. If it weren't for the faint scratch on the surface, no one could even guess that it had a previous encounter with a lead pipe and a massive rock. Inevitably the security that the lock provides, like any sense of security, is only an illusion.
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