Gorehorn, the Adventure Pony

If you’re looking for an activity to soften a long drive, I recommend an extravagant Mix CD Challenge!  Our trip was from Arlington, Virginia to Durham, North Carolina.  The challenge was simple: invent two album names and assign them to other people on the trip.  Each person takes the album names they are given, contemplates for a while, stirs up a vision, and creates the perfect mix for such an album name.  The results can be stunning and add a whole new dimension to the music you once thought you knew.  While I can’t share our concoctions so easily, the album names should reflect how we made four hours speed by in a flash:

• Euclid’s Last Stand
• Genghis Kahn and the Band Wagon
• Goodnight Spoon
• Gorehorn, the Adventure Pony
• How To Dismantle a ‘71 Ford Pinto’
• Jeanne Kirkpatrick Overdrive
• Kind of Periwinkle
• The Longings of Seedless Watermelons

Update: April 2008

A re-posting of a recent letter that I sent to family and friends.

Well into the new year, so much has changed and I just wanted to pause a moment, greet you with a note, and share a few stories (likely with too many references to economics!).

Two years ago I moved out to the mysterious land of Virginia (where people introduce themselves with their full name).  It’s no California, but it was good enough for Thomas Jefferson and has turned out to be quite good to me.  I have benefit from good company, plenty of opportunities, and, pleasantly, an enjoyable dance scene (where I have lead only one, fortunate, relationship-commencing, knee injury).

Up until this past October I worked at the Institute for Humane Studies.  My main responsibility was to manage our globalization education project which included maintaining a website and directing several summer seminars on the topic.  The job gave me the opportunity to work with several top notch faculty members and hundreds of bright, enthusiastic students.  In the process, I have increased my fondness of teaching basic economic principles and developed a strong interest in alternatives to our traditional methods of education.

In the spirit of education, this past Fall greeted me with some new opportunities.  I made it over to Switzerland for a one week conference on sustainability.  I won’t hazard a guess as to whether I will remember the bike rides through the Alps or my hosts’ Malthusian diatribes with more clarity, though if I were to recommend a memorable experience, the way the layers of clouds pattern the valley below Braunwald is indeed striking.

On my return, and with my blessing, it was decided that we cancel the globalization project I was working on.  It’s a challenging decision to terminate something you have worked hard to make succeed, yet my economics training never fails to remind me that if you can’t increase the value of the resources you are using, you are best to let those resources find a higher valued use elsewhere.  The shocking part came as I realized half of my job was contingent on this decision.

While it is only human nature to be somewhat frustrated at the occurrence of unexpected change, I responded in another way only something as savvy as human nature could suggest: I didn’t sleep for three days.  After a handful of conversations with close friends (and with myself), somewhere between insomnia and bliss, it became clear that I too was a misallocated resource and due for some new goals.

Programming, animation, web design: they all got put on the top of my list.  I started training in a variety of internet technologies and began the process of beginning my own information design business aptly titled: Information is Beautiful.  And it is.  (Nicely, the seminar half of my job at IHS is also still on my plate.)

In a year or so, I’m sure I will have a few more stories to share.  I’m sure they will be full of romance, intrigue, and the struggles and triumphs of a protagonist and his trade.

In the meantime, I wish you many beautiful days.  I hope you are in good health and spending time with the people and pursuits that you love.  Let me know if you will be in Virginia in the near future and I promise I won’t geek out (too much) about productivity blogs, the wonders of Javascript libraries, Edward Tufte, or Settlers of Catan.

Dinosaurlandia

Deep in the heart of Virginia, six friends find themselves in a land unfamiliar and rare…  Their task: 1) Shoot a bunch of video, 2) Share that video amongst everyone, and 3) Let each person tell the story as it was.  Here’s my take on the fiction-enhanced memories.

UPDATE: Another fine entry: Dinos Alive!

Hopping New Year

Good day and happy New Year!  I hope for you, at least; I missed it this year.

In fact, my whole trip went well besides that little glitch, of which I have now become quite proud.  Upon leaving California the Tuesday after Christmas, the rain stopped.  I had arranged Jack (my car, in the spirit of Kerouac) into the ultimate travel machine.  I laid the back seats flat dividing the hatchback into two parts: 1) a row of boxes, topped with the essentials and 2) two pieces of egg-crate style foam bedding decorated just as you would a bed, in a little less space.  Conveniently, my passenger seat also folds flat, so I could comfortably pull into any rest-area type space and snuggle under the warmest of comforters for a good night (or mid-day) sleep.

I enjoyed the sunrises of Flagstaff, Arizona; Santa Fe, New Mexico and the grasslands of western Oklahoma.  On the flipside I enjoyed the sunsets of Memphis and Nashville, Tennessee.  Georgia OKeeffe’s New Mexico is the autumn of landscapes.  While perhaps I like the grasslands for the same reason that Andy Warhol likes mechanized art: its very repetitive, but there are so many imperfections.  In Nashville, I caught the Grand Ol’ Opry, the staple of live radio shows for your bluegrass and country diet.  And, having had such a pleasant evening, I decided to wrap up my New Years celebration right there at 9:00pm.  I hit the road.  As I had been stopping at internet cafes and surfing Craigslist, scheduling house visits for potential places to rent upon my arrival in Virginia on New Years day, I still had a long road ahead of me.

Around 11:45pm is when it hit me.  I believe its called teleportation.  I was trying to decide on the best way to start violently honking my horn and flashing my headlights at the nearest car on the desolate highway without provoking that person into a road-rage-like response (to share the celebration of the New Year, of course).  But then I saw a sign.  Not just any sign, but a street sign.  It read: Crossing into the Eastern Standard Time Zone.  Poof.  12:45am.

By any means I arrived safely in Virginia.  Within a half-hour I had a room and after a few trips to IKEA (I finally understand), I am happily situated in Arlington.  Take a look. I live right near that little red arrow.  I work down at the green one.

And that gets you close to up to date.  I haven’t told you about how much I enjoy the details of work, or why.  Nor have I told you much about the place I live and my mysterious and pleasant roommates.  Those will be stories for another time.

Corrections

It turns out I wasnt entirely robbed.  Just the chocolate.  And my favorite big bench is gone as well.  These last two facts are the hardest to take.  I had a photo shoot planned for this wonderful bench.

Also, I might point out that my diffuse labeling of ”those grey double-holed bricks” was not an attempt to be poetic.  I have since been informed that these items are known to most English speakers as ‘cinder blocks.’   (Thank you for the correction.)  May the image be a bit clearer for everyone now.

Living Large Though Short on Rent

My keychain now reads “Christo Vive!,” a careless pastel sunset and the silhouette of a couple of sailboats and seabirds seasoning the cutout of the letters.  It was more by a matter of chance that these keys come upon me, the visiting professor who inhabited this flat before me being called home, and the convenient month window of my stay slipping nicely in before the visiting professor of the year to come arrives.

Along with the artistries of a prehistoric skateboard and a multiple broad-ended canoes, I enjoy a spacious two-bedroom, two-bath, two-balcony house with a study and spacious, interconnected kitchen, dining room and living room.

All within a five-minute drive from the University, a five-minute walk from a very nice bakery, and a five-minute strut from what is called the ‘zona viva’ which is conveniently placed just out of ears distance from my ajar windows.

I was even provided a mobile phone and four large vases of colorful flowers upon arrival and I probably began to take this all for granted as when I returned home this past evening to find I had been something akin to robbed.  The flowers I had signed off the day before, though the living room table, a chocolate bar and my laundry basket have now also vanished.

I wont miss the living room table, as the kitchen table along with its behemoth of a bench has been my social home, although the chocolate bar (macadamia nut) and the laundry basket will be missed.

All of the information that can be derived from my forensic apartment-dweller wisdom is that the phantom of the apartment is smart (there were three other chocolate flavors to choose from and they chose macadamia) and kind hearted (having removed my dirty clothes from the laundry basket before making off with it) aside from their kleptomania.

Possible Moral: there are costs to complementary rent; stationary furnishings and chocolate are commensurate with the proper monthly dues.

Carlos Alberto Montaner

This past week, we have enjoyed the visit of Carlos Alberto Montaner, a well-known Cuban writer, here in Guayaquil.

His prosaic words have taken us between the heights of the Bankers Club, the Oro Verde and the Hilton Colon, and lead me to enjoy some of the best meals to be found in these parts.

His book, Liberty and it’s Enemies, will accompany me on my trip north.

Productivity Live

Double Sided Photocopies:  Nope.  What requires three button presses in the US required 3 stores and a day and a half wait down here.

Plane Ticket:  I went to the travel agency and purchased a ticket.  Well, not exactly, I needed to pick it up the following day.  I learned this after sitting in the travel agents office for an hour while she called 5 people for various reasons and then we had to walk down to the main street to use a better photocopy machine than the one in the office.  Then, she had to call and make sure I live where I told her I was living and confirm that the eTicket (I don’t know if this is the best way to have a ticket down here as maybe you too have realized the travelocity-like fluency to this transaction) can be sent to her, but she couldn’t do that until the people at that office got back from lunch.  It was 3:00.

I returned the following day to pick up the ticket.  This lasted about a half-hour while she finished a phone call, gave me a print out of all the information I needed, and then insisted that I wait until another, very similar, paper be printed out.  She did not have this paper.  She tried again calling those people that were probably still out to lunch although, even though they said they would send it right over, nothing arrived for twenty minutes and then I was assured that what I have was good enough to get on the plane.

Yellow Fever Vaccination:  On reaching the vaccination center at 9:00 in the morning the whole staff had left to vaccinate some boat.  A nice man in the street was kind enough to ask me if I actually needed the vaccination or just the certificate.  I guess, depending on your situation, this could be a more productive or less productive an option.

I returned the following week for a more successful experience, you simply pay somewhere up on the third floor, they fill out two papers saying that you have paid, then you walk back down to the ground floor, go outside, and walk halfway around the building.  The room at the end of this trek is where you get vaccinated.  They fill out two more papers to say you have been vaccinated.

Insulation and Dreams

The 3am speedsters, the motorcycles, the bottle guy (botellas, not albondigas), the neighbors doorbell, the incessant honks at the neighboring intersection…; they’re all right in my living room.  I can’t even be sure they are outside until I get up and check to see the front door isnt wide open.

I have received several semi-tours of the city.  Guayaquil is a port city with several salt-water estuaries that meander their way through the city and it’s outskirts.  The main waterfront is known as the Malecon 2000 and stretches from the Hot Wok restaurant franchises of my co-worker until Las Penas, a wonderfully attractive hill with four hundred and some steps (yeah, intelligently, theyre numbered but of course I forgot to pay attention in the final moments of the ascent) which culminate in leading you to a petite church and a pirate ship.

On the outskirts of the city there are a series of private housing projects, very American in nature if you ask me (large tracks of land and similar houses, great for bringing down costs with economies of scale I suppose), and all walled in with their own social sundries.  The houses here, unsurprisingly (due to the heat), yet surprising to me (due to my shallow ethnocentric architectural expectations), have no insulation.  They are built with brickՑbut not red brick, those grey double-holed bricksand this brick is covered with something that looks more aesthetic, such as inners and outers of walls.

Of course, the house where I live also has this fascinatingly empty structure.  You cannot knock on the wall and determine anything about studs; the entire wall is simply hard.  The most cultural sounds that make their way to my living room must be the intersection honking.  That is, here in Guayaquil, as you near an intersection, you honk.  If you are going faster, you honk more times.  Itѕs probably proportional but I havent done any calculations.  It is a form of communication.  The honk supposedly says, “Watch out!  Coming through.”  Though, falling under the similar phenomenon of the grandfather clock in the living room, after enough honks, they somehow gain the special power of invisibility and near uselessness, save for their perpetual barrage of the unsuspecting traveler.

A Few Fun Facts On Ecuador

Ecuador doesnt allow part time work.  And then there are a bunch of people that try to have a sensible discussion about why there are low-income countries that aren’t developing. 

In 2000, Ecuador dollarized their economy.  This means that all the people turned in the old currency to the central bank and received US dollars instead. The value of the last currency, the sucre, was reminiscent of a kangaroo fleeing unpredictable.  This has had a very helpful stabilizing effect in the economy.

The central bank was not in favor of dollarization.  Most institutions don’t like it when you tell them they are useless.  They even released a study that claimed the US dollar wasnѕt suitable for the Ecuadorian climate.  This reason wasn’t good enough, so-

The biggest function of the central bank now is its Cultural Center.  I don’t know how to explain this one.  One would think the majority of necessary functions of a central bank might decrease in the absence of a local currency.  This is not the case.

The US dollars used here look much more worn than those in the US.  This may be due to the fact that the central bank is the only body that is allowed to collect them and trade them for new ones at the US federal reserve.  And perhaps they are busy with their Cultural Center activities.

Tango is not supposed to be danced in a straight line.  Nor in a perfect, uni-directional circle.  To do so would be considered funny.

Measures of Language Success

I have made a short list to help you understand how I measure my progress in spoken language acquisition.  The list is ordered from easy to difficult.

• The American tourist mistaken for an Ecuadorian
• That local who realizes youre from the States and starts talking to you in horrible broken English.
• A one on one conversation (mostly silly questions with textbook answers)
• Talking to a group of two (in a triangle formation, nothing bus-like)
• A phone conversation with a friend from a non-echoey room
• The ability to sing along with (rehearsed) popular songs
• Talking to a group of four (with only moderate jokes being told)
• A phone conversation with an unexpected telemarketer
• Lunch with a group of four at a busy restaurant with a horribly loud television in the background
• Talking to a group of six (none of them using “hip” lingo)
• A multi-person teleconference from a payphone in a busy street
• Talking to a group of greater than 10 (maybe in a place with padded walls)
• The ability to sing along with unrehearsed (but catchy) communist tunes
• Talking to a group of six who have been drinking Scotch Whiskey for the last 6 hours
• The speeding cabbie who is driving in two lanes with all four windows down, the dashboard rattling like gunfire and three springs poking you from the seat.
• An introduction that includes my name (which is pronounced something like “baiyn” in Spanish).

I guess I’m somewhere in between the unexpected telemarketer and the catchy communist tunes.  I will be a true Spanish speaker if I can ever get that last one right!

Food and Memory

As I have survived a few weeks now without bumping into a stomach virus (or greater corporal trauma), I am beginning to feel my days are numbered. (This feeling is based on a sampling of numerous travelers experiences in Latin America.)  That said,  I will reveal my plot to make the best of any situation to this regard that may confront me.

I have always found that, when traveling, its good to keep track of what I eat.  This way, when I hear my stomach rumble and evaluate the situation with my uninformed, amateur medical biases, I can blame the food I like the least.  I can then use this unapprised accusation as leverage towards the classical conditioning of intuitive responses so I am more likely to avoid these foods again, such as the street-side vendor selling ice-cream out of a bucket.

Following this rigorous personal philosophy, I am keeping a list of foods that I have recently eaten in my short- term memory to call upon in case of a demise in my health.  I am prepared to stumble through them in a crude, mumbly fashion while in a keeled position before selecting my least favorites for eternal bias.  Here is a short list:

• Maduros (fried bananas, these are my favorite!)
• Tortilla Maduros (yes, I have invented some of these names)
• Rice and Beans (staple)
• Bread and Butter (I made this one)
• Sausage in a sauce made of Coca Cola, Salsa and Sugar (traditional)
• Jack Daniels (is Tennessee an Ecuadorian province?)
• Bacon Chunks (by far the most popular, it was like watching those little birds follow the tractor around while cutting grass)
• Chicken Wings (Straight out of Florida)
• Fish-Throat Soup (this might be a bad translation)

(Note:  There are also some foods that I found very flattering on this list.  They are there because, just like many other human beings, I enjoy consolation in times of excoriating pain.  Hopefully my mind is not too cloudy (if such a fate is to find me) that I elect one of those foods dear to my palate.)

Vacation and Productivity

Pedro, a friend from work, and I caught the bus to Montaitas this weekend.  When I say bus, I don֕t mean something like the local buses because these buses actually have fixed locations where they stop.  To catch the local bus you just wave at it from whatever curb you happen to be standing when you see it trucking by.  (Sometimes I even walk twenty feet from where I caught it the day before just for fun).  The bus slows down as it nears you and your job is to not hesitate and jump right on.  Getting off the bus is quite similar; you just stand up and yell, “Pare!” as you’re walking (or maneuvering) toward the door and the bus drivers job is to try to slow down to a reasonable speed before you lunge from his moving vehicle.

Montanitas is a wonderful little traveler֕s town on the Pacific, full of people heading North and South and those that seem to have lost track of time.  And time is somewhat of an anomaly there; we were there for less than 36 hours yet it seemed like three days of vacation.  The patio at our hostel probably got the most of my time, the sea humming, a fresh breeze, the people coming and going, and a book on productivity.

The same book served as a marvelous lead for contemplation on the bus as well.  The bus, similar in shape and function to any bus you may now have as an image in your head, was driven by a man and his two sons while three other people collected money, arranged luggage and ran through the streets looking for riders.  It doesnt always require six people to operate a small bus down here, but it is often more than I am used to and dramatic measures help draw out the productivity juxtaposition here.

It would be fine if you want to compare this experience to a US bus experience, though I am going to continue with a more precarious contrast.  Google recently released the beta version of a program that guesses what web pages you are going to visit (from your past habits), preloads them (while you are using the web for other things), and then records how much time it saved you by having the pages preloaded.  I will let you conclude what you wish about the relationship between productivity and development.

We may have increased our own productivity on the ride back.  As we rode we watched the new Batman movie.  Yep, the one that just came out last week in the movie theaters - already showing on the bus, in your living room or available for two dollars from that guy with all the gum and cigarettes two doors down from the movie theatre.

Ventures into Ant Biology

I am used to the type of ants that come with freeway style habits - a long distance, semi-sinuous, bi-directional breed.  These are not the ants of Ecuador.  Here, they apparently come in bands, not colonies (at least from my empirical evidence).  Instead of smashing a generation who by chance were assigned to somewhere in the middle of the long line where you stamp your foot while cursing the presence of the little numb-skulls, you actually can squash an entire community.  Or at least it feels this way, as there is no sign of any more around once you are done and no apparent ‘source.’  They just sort of ‘appear’, all walking in different directions, and then they’re gone.  And then they’re back.

Trajectory

By the way, if I have yet to mention it, this is what Im doing down here:

During the week, I am at the Ecuadorian Institute for Public Policy helping out on various projects and working on my own.  Recent themes have been free-trade, labor markets, translation and economic education.

When I head up to Guatemala, much of my time will be spent at Francisco Marroquin University.  I will hopefully get to know the school, which is a very innovative economic/business school, the faculty and much more about many of their projects which include lots of technology in the classroom, an economic education seminar and developing a PhD program with San Jose State University.