Schematic Food Planning

A blog entitled Cooking for Engineers takes recipe writing to a new level!

Dandy Map

Google has made navigation much like flying a super-fast and intelligent spaceship right at the location your screamin’ out!

Found a Perch

As I packed the final boxes and moved them into the truck, Dad and Zon bid me farewell and left for their walk.  Hah, I bet you thought I was the one leaving!

No, no, it seems i have overleft my welcome.  Now it is just assumed that I’ll be moving somewhere else again in the next month and trying to use it as leverage to get hugs and cookies.  What’s wrong with goodbye hugs!? 

It was probably in the inchoate stages of my travels that i began forming this delusion.  I assumed that no matter how far I was going that when I got to the kitchen I would be bombarded with love.  Furthermore, i assumed that upon arrival to my destination, no matter how precisely i packed my bags, there would always be a treat Mom managed to sneak into one of my boxes. (I wonder what the airlines would say about this…).

But it wasn’t the love that was missing, Dad and Zon both yelled ‘see ya dude’ over their shoulder as they took off.  And though there was no See’s Milk Chocolate with Marshmallow at the bottom of my guitar case, i found a gift card surreptitiously waiting in my wallet to treat me at Trader Joe’s.

All that I’m trying to say is that if you travel a lot, there comes a time when a trip to the airport gets treated like a night at the movies. 

My new perch is downtown Palo Alto.  I live in the cottage (garage) of a Shingle Style house with Carpenter Gothic interiors (i’ll work on figuring out what this means too) in Professorville (though I am only a lecturer).  Close enough to home that I don’t feel like i’ve left, close enough to work that I don’t feel like i’m there,  and close enough to Stanford that i can still feel like i’m climbing the ladders of academia.

Here’s Someone to Watch

Well, don’t say it wasn’t expected.  Hugo Chavez is heading forward with his plans of land reform in Venezuela.  Apparently, Chavez has promised to put an end to ‘idle’ latifundios.  That is, estates of 5000 hectares (12,350 acres) that aren’t being used efficiently.  You can take your guess at what efficiently may mean.  Especially when the land in question is 6.6 million acres of private holdings.

The claim is that there is too much land in the hands of too few people.  As the government hasn’t enforced property rights in the past, there should be low expectations to see a drastic change in the future.  In one case, where the government ignored demands to remove a few squatters from private land, the number of squatters grew to several hundreds, now equipped with housing settlements and yucca crops.

The wisdom behind these acts is best summed up by Chavez’s motives to "tax farms into productivity."  Unfortunately, such wisdom is having a hard time being implemented since the government doesn’t even have a registry of land ownership.  Hey, there’s a policy that might work for a start—respect of ownership!

China Outsourcing to US

Go figure, China looking to outsource to the US and several municipalities trying to woo in their investment.  I wonder if the University students in China will stand up for this abuse of foreign labor.

It is likely that the US could benefit a great deal from Chinese foreign direct investment.  If more Chinese companies were investing in the US there would become more reason for Chinese firms to respect the property rights and contracts of US firms invested in their country.

McKinsey agrees with DeSoto

McKinsey and Co. states that high corporate taxes and obstacles to entry and exit are pushing businesses into the informal marketplace and undermining "enterprise-level productivity."  This article focuses on business practices in Asia but clearly is model is applicable to the stagnation of Latin American development as well.

Tree Hunting

The phrase at the end of the clip reads:

    Pa-ri-zek /puh-ree-zeck/ n : a little stump.  You know, when you cut down a tree:     what you have left.

This is how a nice Czech girl once explained me the meaning of our last name.  It is only fitting for the abridged (in length and in frames-per-second) story I share with you here.  It is the story for the season and a story of the journey my family took this year in order to fill our living room with pine needles.

So, without further ado: seb_2004DecXmasTreeHunt.mov

It is only a specimen of the video’s original quality but byte-brevity is necessary from this remote land-line that I work.  Happy Holidays.

Foreshadowing January

I had my first nightmare about teaching economics last night.  It was my first class and it took me over a half an hour to take role.  I first handed the role sheet around and afterward, I decided to call it aloud.  Unexpectedly, everyone’s name was spelled something like ‘Ooogggcckkknnnn.’  How the heck do you pronounce that?  And then, regardless of whom i called on, another student would ask me a simple question I couldn’t answer and while I wasn’t answering the question I would lose the role sheet amongst the variety of torn papers I was holding.  As the role call drew out toward infinity, my fear of the lecture portion of class increased because I knew that I would have to explain a few things using the chalkboard and, go figure, the entire front of the room was barricaded with desks so I could not approach the board.

The prelude to teaching principles courses: what trauma.  I could only imagine what my nights would be like if I got a job in a truly savage job like commercial fishing in Alaska or a route as a US postal worker.

To Blog

My mom, on a quest of reason to determine how the word blog may be derived, came to the following insight:

Blog:

(v) to log one’s blah-blah’s.

(n) a blah-blah log.

Jersey City, NJ

I think Nietzsche called it the ‘eternal return.’  I just know that as Amanda was driving me to the airport in New York, all of a sudden, the sign said Jersey City with some dastardly crooked arrow signaling pointedly into a muddle, and we were lost in the dirty city again.

My last adventure began this way and I am beginning to fear how Jersey City might sneak up on me the next time! 

Our (Jersey City and me) last encounter involved a case of six German wines.  The U.S. government stole them from me right out of the mail; held them hostage in a wherehouse down a tortuous, stop-lighted road in a vacated, numbered lot; and charged me two dollars to retrieve the care package that was sent to California in the first place.

Our (Amanda and me) time in Jersey City was mostly spent photographing streets with names like ‘Vroom’ and the undersides of the freeway from dirt roads that we came across in the multitudes of circling and where-the-heck-are-we’s we did around the dirty city.

Luckily, this time Amanda maneuvered free of the dirty city’s grasp with an ingenuous U-turn, obvious and round—an artless move that would insult the craftiest of ugly concrete mazes.

Yes, I am expressing triumph.

Halloween: Pittston, PA

The streets were quiet, but potential, while Amanda and I snuck out with her grandmother to the Olive Garden for dinner on Halloween night.  Leaving a note for the candy hunters on the door, telling them when we would be back, seemed more dignified than my effort the past year.

Although I learned many things in school, I do feel academia sheltered me from any exposure to these lil’ ones who are so potent and lifelike.  This became clear to me as I answered a knock on my door in San Jose last year: two trick-or-treaters.  With a shocked look on my face I greeted the dashing beasts with an “Is today Halloween?” and before they could reply asked them to hold on.  I closed the door and turned to Silvio quickly telling him to help me search the house for anything sweet and giveable.

After a little sweat and a twice over of the cupboards we returned to the door with the option of a banana or canned garbanzo beans.  Already halfwaydown my walkway the little beasts politely declined my offer and scampered off for a chance a sweeter plunder next-door.  Silvio and I quickly turned the lights out and hid in the backroom until we established a plan and proper escape route from our cornered situation.

Despite being in a State with arguably less youth, the return from the Olive Garden this year went a bit smoother—the neighbor greeting us to tell that the streets were quite calm this year.  “Not to many Haloweeners,” he said.  I quietly let go a sigh of relief, currently disregarding the fact that they refer to ‘trick-or-treaters’ as ‘halloweeners’ over here (I guess it is more appropriate for their average size). But Amanda’s grandmother wouldn’t let go so easy. 

This halloween I witnessed the type of compassion they don’t teach in academia.  Within minutes she was out on the porch with the candy bucket yelling at kids who looked like they might be passsing without getting the generous handful of sweets they were due: “Hey, come ova here!” she yelled to the ghost.  “I’ve got candy for ya!” she yelled to the zombie.  With plenty of effort she emptied that basket, mostly on the neighbor who also got a few extra handfuls to give to friends, though an eloquent bout of pro-active halloweening.

Meter Maids and Company

Two train ticket from New York to Philadelphia cost $35.00.  Amanda and I paid it.  But that I guess is not interesting.

My friends across Southern Europe had different interpretations of their public transportation systems.  Let me give you a list of our trips savings:

Barcelona: +16 Euros.  (Tickets to Sitges 6 Euros, but you can get on for the price of a metro ticket, 2 Euros.) Lyon: +6 Euros.  (There is no barrier in the Metro Station) Paris: +10 Euros. (Here you just jump, it is very circus like) Milan: +4 Euros (You validate the ticket in a machine on the Bus)—————————- Total Debits: +36 Euros in metro-hopping savings, a gift of local knowledge

But here comes the catch, the grand equilibrator (Yes, I’ve tactfully hidden information from you).

Milan: -34 Euros (A gift of foreign knowledge.  As we pulled up to a station and saw a handful of ticket checkers collaging the doors, we decided to jump off as to not be on the bus with them, though as it goes, they didn’t want on, but to see our tickets once we got off ((sad music)) (Yes, this is my story, i can choose the music).—————————- Total Credits: -34 Euros in metro-hopping slappings

Grand Total: +2 Euros!

Some people play Bingo or go to the Horse Track.  I ride public transportation while in foreign countries ((trail off with Hawaii Five-O type music)).

Introduce: Jean

Lyon, France.  Jean welcomed Amanda and I as we descended from the bus, greeted us warmly and treated us to our first metro ride a la Parisiansans ticket.

It was 6:00am by the time we reached Jeans apartment, late enough to get a wink of sleep (as the bus isnѕt always conducive to a full nights sleep) and early enough for a two-hour breakfast and some catching up.  We drank tea from bowls as it is done and as Jean head off for work, Amanda and I slept from 8am to 4pm and then went for breakfast again.  This time, croissant and pain au chocolat, or what was left of the pickings at this hour.

We met Jean back at his place after work, and along with his brother, had a Lyonese feast of quenelle, gnocchi, roquefort and friends, wine, cava (the Spanish bubbly), a homemade vodka, and chocolate.

City Folk

Along with a Scottish anarchist with a sharpened umbrella, we left Barcelona.  A good stay.  Please check out my visually imprecise, yet emotionally cordial pictures of Gaudis Casa Battllo.

I would also like to mention that they sell chickens - yes, real live chickensin the streets of Barcelona at 10 o’clock at night.  I am unsure where anyone who purchases a chicken in this city might keep it, as I am unsure of what type of farmer traffic frequents downtown Barcelona (the last time I checked the full-grown chicken wasn’t much the pet you give to a child on his birthday).  Though, contrary to the presumed falsity of most urban legends, I am sure they sell chickens.

Order

Yes, order. What of it?  I presume, as this is a diary of travels, which in itself is a linear experience, that, as one day we may meet and discuss a story or two from the breadth of our disordered recollection, an incongruous presentation is a minor detail.