Onto the IMAX - Avatar

When it comes to movies, I've always been a sucker for an 'epic' film. Grandiosity and hype are two elements that will always get me excited about a new release. Hell, I get all worked up in Independence Day when Bill Pullman gives his climactic speech about fighting aliens. On the flipside is the massive disappointment I experience when an epic attempt doesn't live up to the hype. Needless to say, I was very curious which way Avatar would go.

There was a nutcase I used to work with who would shout insane exclamations like "Sweet Mary Mother of Jesus" and "Good Night Nurse" when he got riled up at work. Well...even these amazing exclamations couldn't do justice to the feeling I had as I tossed away my 3D glasses and walked out of the theater. My friends who had seen it earlier had all been tremendously positive about it, but a facebook status update of "Avatar = Awesome" didn't really tell me what I was getting myself into.

It really is difficult to explain the experience that you undergo during the movie, but that's the only way to describe it: an experience. You literally are transported to another world that was only been previously accessible in the parking lot of a Phish show. The 3D took a few minutes to get used to, but after maybe 15 minutes you completely forget that you're even wearing the glasses and just indulge yourself in Pandora. You soon encounter weird animals, sparkling shrubbery, epic battle scenes, and even alien creatures doing it.

The only way I can try to describe the experience is what happened after the movie. I was with my mom and two cousins and we all went across the street to a Chili's. Everyone sat there and wanted to talk about the movie. I've been in similar situations after a great movie where afterwards you can dissect the plot, characters, acting, etc. However, over this El Presidente Margarita, there was just nothing to say. It completely affects you without having any trace of a remarkable story. You can't even call the acting really special.

But that's not the point. Nowadays, with massive home tv's and surround sound systems, it's been a while since I felt the grandeur of the movie theater. Things like having popcorn in your hand, a dark theater, the previews, the anticipation walking in followed by the awestruck smiles walking out...Avatar reminded me what "going to the movies" is all about.

I saw the film in regular digital 3D. I am very curious as to how people are feeling about it in a regular 2D showing. I'm also most definitely going to get tickets to a 3D Imax showing, making the first movie ever, where I will see it in a theater twice.

Also, now that I have my own Avatar in FIFA, I've decided that if the humans try to invade the world of the soccer playing FIFA characters, I will probably side with them in the ensuing battle.

The Triple Peanut

Is it the big man on campus of the peanut world, or the genetic freak that is shunned by the rest of the peanuts in the bag?

Finis SwiMP3 Review

Along with doing a whole host of weird stretches and exercises on the mat for my physical therapy, I've had to return to an age old nemesis for cardio: swimming. My sister always was part of our town summer swim team and loved the sport so much she went on to captain our high school team. My mom made me join her on the town team when we were kids, and I would find any excuse I could to get out of the practices.

Once my ph

ysical therapist told me that I'd need to get back into swimming I decided I'd need something to help out with the monotony of going back and forth in a pool indefinitely. Naturally, I turned to my loves of gadgetry and music to help me through these dark times and found the Finis SwiMP3 underwater mp3 player.

The Finis SwiMP3 is not your standard iPod. Rather than a mp3 player with headphones, it's two connected pieces that you press against your skull (attached through your goggles). According to the website, the technology "is revolutionary in that it relies on bone conduction of sound. When the device is placed on any bones of the skull (i.e. the cheek bones or the mastoid tip) it leads to vibration of the fluid in the inner ear."

Yes...you read that right, it relies on 'bone conduction' technology. After reading this absurd description and some positive reviews I decided to try it out.

At first, it was a little difficult to comfortably set the pieces up with my goggles. After a good deal of arranging, I turned on the player. It is seriously one of the most odd and amazing sensations with technology I have experienced. Above water, you barely hear the sound...only as though its being played through a really crappy cell phone speaker. The second that you submerge yourself, the sound instantly becomes crystal clear. It was almost jarring how weird the sensation was at first. After a lap or two of total amazement, I got into the rhythm of things.

The device is almost "Apple-like" in its user-friendliness. Between the two ear/temple/skull-pieces is a little USB connector with a waterproof cap that you can plug directly into your computer. It reads just as an external hard drive, and you can drag over an iTunes playlist.

Swimming with music can go on forever and is almost relaxing. I realized early on that, unlike running, rather than intense techno type music, you can go through even Radiohead or Sigur Ros albums. The only caveat is I attempted a podcast and spoken word doesn't really translate to well to the swimming experience. Other than that, I would strongly recommend this device to anyone looking to add a little life to the repetitive world of swimming.

Grassroots

Doing volunteer work with the Obama campaign last year gave me an opportunity to try to translate my obsession with reading about politics into actual tangible activism. However, the extent of my work was limited to Manhattan, and it can get a little difficult to get that warm, fuzzy grassroots feeling while phonebanking from fancy hotels or checking in Anna Wintour at a fundraising fashion event.

Well, there's a special election to fill Ted Kennedy's Senate seat, and my friend Josh had been volunteering for the campaign of the US Rep Mike Capuano. I was a little on the fence about Capuano as a candidate, but last Tuesday was the big Democratic Primary and I was excited to help Josh out on voting day. It was grassroots time, baby.

We began the day at 6am, driving to donated political office space in a small city I'd only known of from seeing exits on the highway. The goal of the day was purely a Get Out the Vote operation: Phone calls, organizing rides, reminding voters, providing information, etc. As we set up the office with some munchkins and coffee, our first two volunteers showed up: Two guys from the Bricklayers Local 3.

They assumed they'd be given some signs and told to just hang outside in front of a polling booth, but the campaign specifically had said they needed everyone making phone calls. It was kind of awesome watching Josh, in full "young hotshot politico" mode was in a suit (no tie, you know, to be relaxed), try to explain to them the complicated phone banking system. Somehow we were soon cranking out phone calls and within minutes began getting both lauded and berated by voters.

The Bricklayers soon filtered out to get to "a job", and there was a steady rotation of some extremely random people. There was a 65 year old guy who had to use scissors to push phone buttons due to a lack of feeling in his fingers, the daughter of a local politico who I imagine will soon be seriously on the scene, and a few random older women in business casual. Most entertaining was probably the mid-life divorcee who had apparently once lived in the grandeur of D.C. in with her British diplomat husband. After "cleaning her husband out", she now does volunteer work to meet people and repeatedly asked me to friend her on facebook.



The phone banking technology was surprisingly much more advanced than that used during the Obama campaign. The technology around us, however, was not. Proudly displayed on the shelf was a Netscape Communicator box, now with "Internet compatibility" and to be used with Windows 3.1....about as grassroots as it gets. Another favorite piece of technology I found was a document shredder that had an option for "CD/DVD/Disk" shredding as well....only in politics.







Capuano lost by the margin expected and we missed the concession speech as we rushed to get over to the hotel where the main campaign event was taking place. It was fairly anticlimactic as we knew the results via Twitter way before arriving. I guess sometimes real-time information has its drawbacks. In the end, one similarity existed between the grassroots organizing of a local race and big-city, fancypants politicking. Win or lose, everyone involved in the campaign went straight to the bar in the aftermath.








Josh in fancy pants suit

It's All Relative

A bunch of my classmates were partaking in the time-honored Movember tradition last month, and had me "remotely mustache" for a video they were making. I have always had a soft spot for ridiculous mustaches and couldn't turn down such an opportunity.

I only had nine days to grow it before they needed the submission, so took the standard route of growing a beard and then shaving it into a mustache at the last minute. During the process my mom was complaining every day about my beard...labeling me both "terrorist-like" and "homeless". However, the day I shaved it into a mustache, she said "okay, well now you at least look proper".

Only then did it occur to me, she is an Indian woman, and consequently a mustache is completely normal to her (we all know the Indian population is not lacking in mustaches). It then hit me, there are entire generations of women who would consider a man more attractive with a mustache. If a woman who came of age in the 1970s or 1980s (I'd consider this late teens to your 20s) does she still find a man with a mustache to have an irresistible appeal to him? How can there be such a discrepancy in the continuity of what is physically attractive? Shouldn't biology somehow control for growing hair on your upper lip ever being attractive?


The 3rd eyebrow



*Disclaimer: I will concede this is a standard "I will philosophize about mustaches to post mustache pictures of myself" blog post. I feel it must be an institution among bloggers.

4th and 2

Sunday night wasn't fun for Boston sports fans. Bill Belichik's call to go for it on 4th and 2 from our own 28 will seemingly be debated for weeks. When it happened I was completely shocked. However, with a few days of reflection and obsessive reading I'm slightly more okay with the decision but still confused with the overall play-calling around the series.

The Monday after had Boston in an awful mood. One thing that I'd forgotten since living away from Massachusetts was the ability of a tough sports loss to palpably affect the entire mood of the state. The Boston Sports Club Locker room where I've been going to the gym was no exception.

I've been going to a BSC location in Waltham with amazing facilities, especially compared to the kinda dingy city locations I'm used to. The clientele is definitely different, as the daytime scene at the BSC is all retired old people who make the gym their hangout.

One thing I've learned....old men don't fear nudity. The majority will walk around with a reckless naked abandon. I've unfortunately come to realize that the ageing process shrinks one's frank while exponentially growing the beans; in ways I never thought medically possible. If any medical folk have any insight into this, please let me know.

Normally I've found the sauna is off limits for conversation with strangers. Monday was definitely an exception. There were five of us...the other four all old men sitting towels unfolded and totally relaxed. One guy started it simply with, "I can't believe he went for it." That was it, a solid 10 minute discussion analyzing the minutiae of 4th down percentages, clock management, and Peyton Manning followed. The intensity of emotion in everyone threw any awkwardness out the door.

It made me wonder, after seeing the NFL pregame shows trying new angles like broadcasting from Afghanistan, would the public be receptive to this as a new angle of sports shows? Cris Collinsworth in there with Shannon Sharpe (naturally with a super flashy towel) and Herm Edwards all sitting around bantering? It really could be the Best Damn Sports Show. Period.

My Life is Complete

My physically induced house arrest has naturally led to very little person-to-person interaction in my daily life. After moving from a job where you are constantly surrounded by people to the massively social b-school environment, my Thoreau style solitude has definitely been an interesting transition.

Luckily, Electronic Arts and the PS3 have resolved this dilemma for me. I've been a huge fan of the FIFA franchise on the gaming system, playing obsessively for the last three years. The recently released Fifa '10 has a new feature where you 'become' a virtual player in the game. After uploading a front and profile image of yourself, you enter a 'lab' online to create a 3D rendering of player based on yourself. The final output is both freaky and amazing at the same time.


The first draft that you edit

I've been playing FIFA against my friend Corey online for years now, and he instantly joined me in the excitement of creating a virtual player. We've since consistently been playing against each other (usually Roma vs. Liverpool) with both of our virtual players on the field. Corey and me played soccer regularly in New York, and now this is pretty much exactly the same. I find it no different than meeting up Sunday mornings in Brooklyn for pickup or playing in a league at Chelsea Piers.



From a "gamer's perspective" (and I gladly will wear the label 'gamer') having 'yourself' in the game adds an unreal level of experience. I'm pretty convinced that the future of video gaming will head in this direction. I will not deny that I hit a dangerous level of excitement when I scored my first goal and Fernando Torres ran across the field and jumped and hugged me. Yes, my life was finally now complete.

The Wall Came Tumbling Down

Today is the 20th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall. Much like most foreign geopolitical events of the 1980s, I don't really have concrete memories of "where I was when it happened", but have vague recollections of various moments throughout the chain of events.

It was only years later that I first discovered quite possibly the most earth-shattering of footage from the time. There are few moments in the annals of history that so perfectly capture, and I can't think of how else to phrase this, "what I like", better than the video below.

The most significant of geopolitical news. Large, jubilant crowds. Barriers, whether physical or mental, being broken down to allow people to again remember our common humanity. Music and performance. One man, wearing a jacket made for a god, singing to the people about their quest for human freedom.

If we can only weave this absurdity into the tapestry of the history we record, we will eternally prove our generation worthy of 4.75 stars.

One morning in june some twenty years ago

I was born a rich man's son
I had everything that money could buy
But freedom - I had none

I've been lookin' for freedom
I've been lookin' so long
I've been lookin' for freedom
Still the search goes on
I've been lookin' for freedom
Since I left my home town
I've been lookin' for freedom
Still it can't be found

I headed down the track, my baggage on my back
I left the city far behind
Walkin' down the road, with my heavy load
Tryin' to find some peace of mind
Father said you'll be sorry, son,
If you leave your home this way
And when you realize the freedom money buys
You'll come running home some day

I paid a lotta dues, had plenty to lose
Travelling across the land
Worked on a farm, got some muscle in my arm
But still I'm not a self-made man
I'll be on the run for many years to come
I'll be searching door to door
But, given some time, some day I'm gonna find
The freedom I've been searchin' for

Damn Yankees

Living in and loving New York City as a Red Sox fan is a complicated situation. 2003 and 2004 were the absolute height of emotional intensity and conflict as I was still new to the city and it was the apex of baseball drama for the rivalry. My mother's friends sometimes ask me if I became a Yankees fan from living in New York for so long. My stock answer is, "Do American soldiers who come back from Iraq come back with a love of Iraqi culture?" Maybe a little extreme, but I hope you get the point.

Living in enemy territory is additionally complicated, because there is the part of you that realizes the absurdity of some of your more closed-minded friends. I've had friends from Boston argue that Derek Jeter is a terrible player and "no way would I every sign him", which is simply a ridiculous statement. You learn to be more impartial in your appreciation of the game.

However, you're also on the front lines and deal with Yankees fans on a daily basis. As a coworker who's a Mets fan once put it, "Yankees fans are all dicks. There are lifelong Yankees fans who were formerly nice people that became dicks during the winning 1990s. Then there are people who are just dicks and don't give two shits about baseball. However, they became Yankees fans as another channel through which to express their dickishness". Truer words hath never been spoken.

This year felt a little weird. In the past I would've been rooting with every ounce of my being that the Yankees lost. However, after seven years in NYC, I have enough friends who are lifelong Yankees fans who I knew would be genuinely ecstatic over a win. There was a part of me, that as Mariano took the mound in game 6 that actually thought, I guess I'm happy for them. Picturing an old boss with his family, watching his son's first Yankee championship, or close friends who are intense baseball fans celebrating with their friends and families, or even friends in Asia rooting away in their mornings, made me for a brief moment actually think that I didn't mind the Yankees winning. Maybe its the painkillers, or the yoga and meditation I've been doing in physical therapy, but I felt I'd achieved an internal peace that made me happy for everyone.

Then, high in the stands, I saw a massive sign, "New Home, Same Destiny!"

I hope it pours down rain on today's parade.

Saturday Night Fever

I've found my current status as a quasi-invalid has escalated my former game of Red State - Blue State to a whole new level, a sort of exotic destinations vs. sedated suburban amusement. This past weekend was the first break of classes at INSEAD, and accordingly, most of my classmates facebook status updates involved statements about Hong Kong nightlife, trekking through Burma, or dining on Balinese beaches. Would my Saturday night rival these adventurous journeys?

Well...kinda.

My back is getting better but not to the point that I'm ready to go, as they say, "out out". Saturday night I decided to revisit a destination I hadn't been to in a long, long time. The Boston Science Museum. What exactly is the Saturday night science museum scene? Well, I'm here to tell you.

First up was the 7:30pm "Laser Queen" show. The Planetarium has a series of laser shows where they coordinate a fairly elaborate laser display to a specific type of music. The last time I had been to one of these was sometime in high school when a group of us went to the Pink Floyd Laser Show (I will allow you to interpret the inspiration for such decisions). As I stood solo in line for the show, I realized that if I had a mustache, I might be attaining true child molester status. There were three distinct groups in line with me:

1) The semi-"cool" music parents who were taking their pre-teen kids to the event to get them more into music. Having been involved with music growing up, I've often seen this parental type, wearing a vintage rock t-shirt (and by vintage I mean actually from 1983, not pre-faded and selling for $200) under a sensible Gap woolen pea coat, brimming with enthusiasm about when "music was good"....and to these parents, I salute you.

2) 30something French tourists. Maybe this was a random coincidence and not too common, but somehow it made total sense. There were two distinct groups, both identically fashionable and eager. I'm guessing a French version of the Lonely Planet strongly recommended this as a pre-going out activity.

3) Hipster / Stoners. I'm not sure whether I was observing more of a hipster contingent or pure high school stoner contingent, but there was a large group of skinny jean, mod haircut types. This group did not disappoint, as , one of their clan passed out and had to be carried out of the planetarium after the show. He then proceeded to puke everywhere once they got outside, totally unironically.

The show itself was amazing and reminded me how great of a band Queen is. I was a little disappointed that there wasn't a large Saturday night gay contingent considering the band, but I guess you can't have everything.

Being the aggressive partyer that I am, I didn't stop with the Planetarium show. I stepped it up and got a ticket for the 9pm Omnimax showing of "Adrenaline: The Science of Risk". For anyone who hasn't been to the Boston Science Museum IMAX theater, I'd strongly recommend it. Instead of just a large IMAX screen, its a huge domed screen that dwarfs the traditional variety.

The movie was perfectly suited for the medium as it's all about adrenaline junkies, mostly focused around skydiving and BASE jumping. There is a number of intense scenes of jumping off planes and cliffs which in that environment which were not for the weaker of stomachs. I left with a few observations:

1) The introductory sequence is still similar to when I was a kid, with Leonard Nimoy still providing a bit of comic relief. However, I noticed that instead of the narrator just asking "Leonard Nimoy, what's he doing here?" had to clarify "Leonard Nimoy, the guy who played Spock in the original Star Trek series, what's he doing here?" I guess they're working under the assumption that the hipster who puked everywhere has no idea who Leonard Nimoy is.

2) There really wasn't any science involved other than providing about 2 minutes of explanation of how adrenaline works via neurotransmitters. Are all IMAX movies just an excuse for gratuitous nature and adventure footage, labeled as scientific in order to justify school field trips?

3) I feel an IMAX movie has to be the ultimate creative date. It's only an hour so not too long, it shows some demonstrated interest in science/knowledge, and it's certainly different. Please feel free to take this advice next time you've run out of ideas and feel free to implement it.

4) As cool as the whole BASE jumping thing appears to me, I still don't get that whole scene, at all.

How to Eat a Pop Tart

I've always been a fan of Metrosexual Manorexia, the act of always talking about how you should be cutting back on calories and complaining about 'feeling fat', while still working out regularly and consuming pretty much whatever you want. I believe this general obsession about what I'm eating is the result of a little bit o' chubbiness in my earlier years.

During middle school, the purgatory of schooling, I definitely carried a few more pounds than I should of. While not exactly the type of fat where you constantly breathe heavily, my pants were bought in the "Husky" section (for those who don't know, back in the day there was a size above XL called "Husky").

I imagine this was partially the result of the standard, awkward puberty years, but it was also helped out by an Indian culture that shows it's love through food. Not only is not finishing your plate the biggest insult you could give, but an Indian mother will often show her affection by allowing her child to eat whatever they desire.

Mine was no exception, and a favorite routine of the eleven year old Ranjan was having two Frosted Brown Sugar Cinnamon Pop Tarts before school. Every day.

During this time I perfected a technique to achieve optimal enjoyment from each individual Pop Tart. It has laid dormant for years, but I will share it with you this morning:

1) Toast the Pop Tart

2) Eat the edges off, much as some people cut the crust of bread while making a sandwich.

3) Carefully peel the back, "bready" layer off, maintaing the structural integrity of the front side. This is the most difficult step and should be undertaken with caution.

4) What you are left with is a large piece of hardened frosting, covered with brown sugar and cinnamon, and ideally piping hot from Step #1. What better way to start your day?

It's Soooo Cute

As one may have noticed from my posting all summer, I was a huge fan of Asia. I am also a massive carnivore and believe that vegetarianism is often an irrational decision made by those with the luxury to do so.

However, sometimes even my limits may be tested. This summer I saw dog on the menu only once, at a Korean restaurant in Beijing. I tried scorpion and snake but just couldn't get myself to do it. I think the idea of discriminating what meat you eat based on the cuteness of the animal is ridiculous, and often just the decision is often just the result of cultural differences. I still feel at some point I may try it out, but a web discovery may have forever repulsed me from such a path.

I told you I'd be searching the far corners of the web, and this discovery came as the result of the following conversation. My friend who runs the pizzeria in Kansas was telling me how people often come into his store and just ask for "meat" on their pizza. He'll ask what kind of meat, to which they will simply reply "No idea, just meat." I joked that he should keep a supply of dog in the back for these very situations, maybe call it the "AJ's Special". Naturally, the followup question was "I wonder how much dog meat costs and if it's available in the U.S.?"

It is available...and the top google result could very well have not only turned me off from trying dog meat forever, it's so intense that for a split second, I may understand where vegetarian's are coming from.

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you:

www.puppybeef.com

I won't include the pictures here, but I would recommend (or maybe warn you) to check out the "Recipes" page.

Also of note, is their sister site: www.kittybeef.com

Where, if you're buying a whole spit roast cat, you can differentiate between fish-fed cat or chicken-fed cat. Apparently, much like the grass-fed beef craze hitting high end restaurants, the true kitty connoisseur is extremely selective about what their cat eats before consuming it.

Crazy, crazy Asians.

God Bless America

As a self-proclaimed connoisseur of television, I plan on spending my time under house arrest catching up on some quality shows that I never had the chance to watch from the beginning (Dexter and Mad Men come to mind). In the meanwhile, I'm trying to avoid the trap of just watching random, retarded television. I found myself watching about 15 minutes of some horrible new VH1 show called "Real Chance at Love", featuring the "Stallionaire Brothers", Real and Chance. Yup, moments like that definitely kickstarted the East Coast, arugula-eating, latte-drinking, elitist liberal in me and had me worrying about the state of American cultural exports.

But then...god bless the NFL. Not only did it allow me to watch about six straight hours of television (plus Red Sox playoff baseball which I care to not speak about) and not feel guilty, but it reminded me of one of America's greatest products: television advertising.

While it sometimes became a little annoying watching old men talk about their erectile dysfunction, it only occurred to me after about my fourth hour into the marathon that I was seriously craving three products that I had seen repeated ads for (and Taco Bell's blackjack taco is absolutely not one of them):

1) Sometimes technology and utility converge in such a manner that makes one truly wonder about whether mankind's potential is limitless in its nature. Such an instance was shown to me this Sunday. The Bud Light Speaker Box. A 24 pack that has a speaker built-in to its side that you can plug your iPod/shitty, generic MP3 player directly into. Instant party. 24 beers and music. What more do you need? I mean, this could be the most genius product combination of our lifetimes. It will revolutionize packaging and could create an entire new culture of instant, random parties. I wonder what my parents would think if they come home to find me about 16 deep, blasting the new Mika album out of a cardboard box.

2) You may see a pattern, but another Bud Light product...their new Golden Wheat beer. I'm definitely not a huge beer guy, but have always a soft side for a tall, Hefeweizen. I have to try this product before I can believe it (it's a light beer as well, making it even more suspect) but I won't deny the strong urge the entire day to head out and grab a six-pack of this.

3) KFC's Grilled Chicken. I have no idea how this will actually be, and it doesnt really make sense now that I'm at home and have unlimited access to a grill, seasonings/spices, and Costco bags of frozen chicken breasts. However, I always was a little annoyed that getting a basic grilled chicken breast seemed an impossibility in any fast food place other than Boston Market and am glad they took up this strategy. Has anyone tried this?

J'ai un Hernie Discale

It's been a while since my last post and the past six weeks have seen some highs and lows. The first month and a half at INSEAD exceeded all expectations and my experience with the program will be documented going forward. Unfortunately, I'm sitting in Lexington, Massachusetts currently watching the Red Sox try to stay alive against the Angels on a crisp, New England autumn day.

Three herniated discs (with one being prolapsed) and severe sciatica put me on the MBA Disabled List. I started having problems early in the summer, which progressively got worse and worse. I'm not sure if this was some extension of the corporate atrophy that I mentioned way back when, but after strong recommendations for surgery by Singapore doctors and pain that is almost fascinating in how strong it was, I made the trip home to the U.S. to try to figure everything out. INSEAD has been great during the entire process as they will be letting me restart this January, assuming a normal recovery, with no problems or additional costs.

I imagine I'll let you all into the world of orthopedics, chiropractors, herniation, and the American health care system as time goes by. In the meanwhile, I'll be documenting how I work to entertain myself while in suburbia over the next few months. It's been a long time since I've spent an extended time in Lexington, and as I'm unable to drive a car at the moment, my PS3 and DVR will be used like never before. I am looking to exhaust every corner of the internet as well, add a few blogs to my Google Reader, work on my Chinese, and maybe get into some really esoteric interests. I invite you to join me as I devolve into maybe madness, perhaps greatness, and hopefully along the way, the owner of a straighter spine.

The Asian Squat

We've all seen it in Chinatown. We've all wondered could it possibly be comfortable. Well, it's everywhere out here; from Thailand to China to Hong Kong to India. The Asian Squat.


Artistic Squat, 7/10


The squat technique involves both feet being firmly planted on the ground to provide a solid foundation of balance. Both knees should be pointed at an ever so slight outward angle, just obtuse enough so one's elbows can be rested on the inside of the knees. The butt should be pretty much as low as possible to the ground without touching and still maintaining balance.


Hang off the stairs and look mod squat, 8/10


Knee strength is one crucial element as I can maybe put it 2-3 minutes top of squatting before my knees start killing me. The most crucial element is however balance. If you attempt the position you will notice a tendency to either fall forward or backwards, depending on your back's position. I believe a straight back is required though adds a level of difficulty.


Climb and Squat, 9/10


If you reach that exact point, where somehow you fall neither backward nor forward, where you can either rest your elbows on your knees comfortably with a straight back, where you can smoke a cigarette, read a newspaper, drink a coffee, drink a beer, play cards, play mah jongg, maybe even take a dump (if you're in India), or just squat around and discuss the latest bout of political oppression inflicted upon you, my friend, you have learned the Asian Squat.



Mother and Child Squat, 10/10

Welcome to the Ladyboy Cabaret

We've all heard of the famous Thai ladyboys. I never quite understood what the fuss was about until you actually see a few of these fascinating creatures. My first exposure was in a touristy strip of an island, Koh Samui, where as a solo male traveler walking around, the harassment was fairly constant. Many of them would be quite beautiful women, but a British dude provided me the sage advice "always remember....no Thai woman should be above 5'6".

A family friendly element of the Ladyboy experience is the Ladyboy Cabaret. I attended them in both Koh Samui and Koh Tao with the safety of female friends, as the idea of heading into one of these solo would be a little nervewracking. The cabarets themselves were tremendously entertaining. Basically, the ladyboys perform a series of song and dance numbers, minus actual singing. They chroeograph fairly complex dance routines and costumes with music ranging from popular hip hop to Bollywood, to naturally, a ton of disco.



The dancing and costumes definitely ranged in qualty as the Koh Tao ladyboys were definitely minor leaguers compared to Koh Samui. Timing was off, dancers looked nervous, and man, some of those ladyboys really looked like kinda scary men (and lets not even start with the 'tuck jobs'). I am still curious to this day if there are any Frank Bruni or Rogert Ebert style "Ladyboy Cabaret Critics" as after two viewings I felt I could distinguish what was quality.

The highest quality moment came in the Koh Samui show, as a ladyboy came out in full ladyboy regalia to Frank Sinatra's "My Way". As heshe danced and lip-synced through the number, they removed articles of clothing and put on men's clothing. Towards the crescendo-laden finale of the song, they even wiped off their makeup and combed their real hair, and became a very regular looking Thai man in a suit. An example of the postmodern Ladyboy arthouse performance genre at its finest.

(I randomly found a clip on Youtube of the conclusion of I think the same performer)

The Koh Tao cabaret however did provide one interesting twist. With about 100 people in the audience, at the conclusion they needed just a few 'volunteers' (or victims more accurately). I was sitting kind of near the front and as one of the manlier ones scanned the audience with those Thai ladyboy eyes, heshe locked in on me and walked over and tapped me on the shoulder. I provided the obligatory hesitation, but as most of you who know me well would know, I figured I could handle whatever was in store. They picked me, two British guys, and I think an Aussie and took us back to the dressing room. We were provided costumes involving, with mine involving a purple wig, long purple skirt and some sort of bra top. We were brought out behind the curtain and told to stand there as a familiar disco beat found its way through the speakers. Yes, the curtain opened to the words "young man" and it was our time to walk out and dance to YMCA with the ladyboys.


We rocked it.

The Island

Picture this: Crystal clear blue water, white sand beaches, cheap but good food and drink, and a place composed solely of young hippies just hanging out. This place does exist, and it is called Koh Tao.

Much like the passengers of Flight 815 and their journey to "The Island", my journey to Koh Tao was somewhat of a disaster. It involved a 1.5 hour ferry ride from Koh Samui that was a horror unlike anything I've ever experienced. The high-speed ferry ride was absurdly choppy and created a situation that was so disgusting, it was almost funny. About 30 minutes into the ride I heard the first heaving vomit from the back of the passenger area. What happened next was unreal. If you've ever seen one of those Family Guy clips where everyone starts puking, this was the closest I think I'll ever get (hopefully) as one person's vomiting led to a chain reaction with at least 20 confirmed vomiters out of maybe 100 passengers. I've never experienced motion sickness before and thankfully avoided it, but as I witnessed lady directly to my right puking into a bag, I definitely didnt feel awesome.



Once we got there, everything changed. The beaches are beautiful, the island isn't overdeveloped, and there's one long strip of beach that has a bunch of bars and restaurants. Each bar has a large outdoor seating area of bean bags and lounge chairs that are full of people, probably with an average age of 22, hanging out all day drinking and just relaxing. At night there are fire jugglers everywhere and all the restaurants open up dance floors. There are fire jugglers and fire limbo and booze is served in buckets. The beaches are that idyllic crytal blue water and white sand you only see in brochures. What more do you need?


Bean Bags on the Beach





Fire Limbo


Fire Jugglers


I don't know if its the sarcastic New Yorker in me, but I was convinced the entire time something had to be wrong. It was just too perfect. I even shared this theory with a number of people we met, and most people almost agreed when confronted with my theory. A few running theories were: the bathwater occasionally literally smelled like crap and some people were suspect as to how sewage is treated on the island. Another guy was convinced that the volcanic nature of the rock on the island somehow was slowly giving everyone cancer. The easy theory was we'd all be the murder victims of Thai drug lords, a la The Beach. Other than that, maybe this really was paradise. Maybe this was a never-never land for the hippie in us all.

.,...and just maybe, The Island heard me questioning its worth, and that's why it cursed me with a perforated eardrum.

Perforated Eardrum

.....is not the name of my new band. It is the disastrous result of my attempt at scuba diving certification. This endeavor began with an extremely interesting few classrom sessions, continued with an introduction into the world of Finding Nemo, and ended in temporary hearing loss and "ear discharge".

While spending time on Koh Tao in Thailand, I decided I would (horrible pun alert) take the plunge and sign up for a scuba certification course. I signed up with the Phoenix Divers group, after a solid sales pitch from an American who worked there and saw me inspecting a brochure. The class is four days long, with the first day solely in the classroom, the second day split between the classroom and a pool, and the third and fourth days spent in the ocean diving.

I was anticipating the classroom time to be fairly boring but important, but it was nothing of the sort. I was never a huge fan of physics and science in general in high school, but the direct real world application of physics to scuba diving was fascinating. If nothing else, I finally have a solid understanding of why one's ears pop on a flight, after a lengthy discussion on water and air pressure. The physics perfectly translated in the ocean as how heavily you breath and fill your lungs with air notably affects how you rise and fall in the water due to the changes in your density.

Unfortunately, the real world application of the physics became all too real for me. The 45 minute dive was spectacular, the feeling of suspended weightlessness in the water is unlike anything I've felt before and swimming along with schools of fish and seeing all the life of the coral reef up close was spectacular. The second dive, well, that was where the disaster took place.

While we've all learned the lesson to listen carefully to the teacher, I had about five minutes of waiting at the beginning at the surface of the water while other students were taking "skills tests" you need for certification. I decided to kinda screw around to the side and practice one of the skills, "filling the mask", that involves allowing water into your mask and blowing it out with your nose. It happened fairly quickly, but I basically descended too quickly into the water with a mask filled with water, and BAM, I felt a shooting pop through my right ear.

After a few seconds of total disorientation, which was admittedly kind of cool in a crazy way, as with no center of gravity and surrounded by water I literally had no sense of direction or space for a few seconds, I surfaced. I went over to the teacher and said "um..something might be wrong". I told him what happened and as an examination, he took me underwater and had me "equalize" (which is basically holding your nose and blowing, like on a plane to clear your ears). It definitely wasnt a good sign that small bubbles were coming out of my ear, but he reassured me it was the most common of diving issues but I couldnt finish the course.

Even with the subsequent "ear discharge" (which is not a fun or pretty occurrence) and annoying slight temporary hearing loss, that is thankfully coming to an end, I still fully intend to finish the scuba course and get my license. I long to get back to the world of Nemo.

I am a Flashpacker

Me: "Can I take your iphone off the charger and use the outlet for my netbook?"
Friend: "Hold on, I'm syncing some new music I just bought. I want to take advantage of our guesthouse having wifi"

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to flashpacking. What exactly is flashpacking? It's a way of traveling for quarter-life crisis types and beyond. You've worked a few years. You've saved up some cash. Suddenly you have a chunk of free time to go see the world.

Many remember summers or semesters spent abroad as broke college students, backpacking around Europe and Southeast Asia. The crucial limitation on these travels was a dependence on parents or a finite savings account that forced one to carefully budget out dorm-style hostels, drink specials, and limited tour activities to the penny/ However, as a 29 year old who's just left the workforce, you've earned the luxury to stay in remotely liveable accomodations. You've not looking for a penthouse suite, but chances are, you'll spring for a private room at a hostel rather than the dorm style beds. You can now afford a variety of day tours and activities that are offered. You're old now; staying out til 4am and waking up at 8am for a day hike just doesnt seem to work anymore.

The other major change from the backpacking lifestyle is the introduction of somewhat comfortable travel. If it costs another $15 to upgrade from the 3rd class sleeper train to the 2nd class one, you'll take it. Southeast Asia has proven itself to be a flashpackers paradise with a bounty of low-cost airlines that allow for the ultimate flash-packer luxury: heavily discounted, last-minute airline tickets. While still slightly more expensive than an "18 hour bus ride + ferry", these airline companies have created an extremely comfortable way to quickly travel around. You also can avoid serious planning as you no longer have to follow a logical geographic plan, as you would traveling by bus or train.

The final, and most crucial characteristic of a flashpacker is an arsenal of technology. Hostels and guesthouses appear to be in tune to this trend, as majority of these places now have wifi in their lobbies and sometimes even rooms. On that budget flight, you'll find flashpackers listening to their ipods, viewing digital pictures, and uploading them to their netbooks. The travel journal / scrapbook that was so common as a collegiate backpacker is now replaced with the blog or the extra-long group email. When you meet other flashpackers, you instantly facebook friend them on your smartphone for which you've bought a local data SIM card.

The other crucial question for the flashpacker is that of luggage. We've all seen the oversized hiking backpacks, complete with Canadian flag patch and multitude of buckles and straps; the more buckles and straps one's bag has, the more intense a backpacker they are. I felt the standard large backpack was no longer my bag of choice. Instead.,I found a large suitcase type bag, with rolling wheels, but that has a strap compartment to convert itself into kind of a backpack. The flashpackers place in life is exactly that, not quite ready to travel the world with a Tumi suitcase, but no longer wanting to be associated at every juncture with the hippie backpacker. A friend asked a poignant question, "Is that a suitcase with straps, or a backpack with wheels?" That truly is the question.....

If you've recently found a good deal of free time and want to see the world, but aren't quite ready to sign up for a bus tour of 60 Japanese adults. If you've saved a little bit of money and are looking to travel cheaply, but don't want to be the "creepy, old dude" at the hostel. If you're somewhere between Under the Tuscan Sun and Eurotrip, fear not. Join the flashpacker movement.

My flashpacking tech list:

HP Netbook
Unlocked Blackberry with local SIM cards
iPod Nano (stolen, replaced with an "iPop" ripoff, bought in Bangkok)
Amazon Kindle
Casio Exilim digital camera

La Vita e Bella

I knew the day I accepted the offer from INSEAD for business school it would present some unusual "international" situations. Some friends joked that my likely occupation after graduating would be carrying briefcases full of cash across oil fields in Africa. I will admit though, I was a little surprised when I found myself studying Italian, in Singapore, on a streetful of brothels.

For a little background, INSEAD has a requirement of knowledge in three language, including English. After some last-minute debate, I decided to pursue Italian as my 2nd as the test was heavily grammar based (I had originally planned on using Bengali which I speak at home, but I'm fairly unfamiliar with the written language). After not paying attention to deadlines, I had to cut my Mandarin lessons a week short and headed to Singapore to take the Italian test. The plan was simple, I had 8 days to do nothing but try to relearn a language. I had started perusing a textbook while still in Beijing, and found a budget hotel in Singapore and actually made a plan, day by day, of what I'd need to cover.

Things got interesting when I arrived in Singapore. Now, I had been here before for work never really left the financial district area. I'm not really familiar with names of neighborhoods and found a great looking budget hotel on tripadvisor. It got great ratings, had wi-fi, air conditioning, a full-size bed, and was about $35 USD a night. It seemed perfect for the task at hand so I booked it.

The taxi driver looked at me a little oddly when I gave him the address and told him I'd be staying there a week but I didnt really think much of it. When I got to the hotel it definitely looked to be a shady area. In other areas I seriously might have rethought the reservation, but I figured that it's Singapore, if you can't chew gum I probably won't get shot.

There was a strong stench throughout the air that I couldn't place as I walked up to the check-in counter. In front of me was an old, kinda pasty white guy with a young Asian girl in a short skirt and heels asking about "transit rates" which apparently means by the hour. Things were getting sketchier. I held my belongings close and checked in, and headed up to the room, which turned out to be as nice as advertised. I was still weirded out by the entire situation but the room was perfect for the week so figured I'd stay here but take a walk around the neighborhood.

It turned out I was staying in a neighborhood called Geylang, which is apparently a famous Singapore red light district. It's a series of numbered blocks, with apparently each block being run by a different ethnic Asian gang and with a different ethnicity of women (according to wikipedia this would include one block of ladyboys). The area was definitely not full of Eliot Spitzer style establishments as it's pretty jarring to walk around. There's trash everywhere and that smell wafting through the air. It turned out the smell was a tropical fruit, Durian, that has an unbelievably strong odor and is really popular through Singapore and especially in Geylang....I guess a delicacy among Johns?

There was a subway station close by and I managed to make it out around 9am every morning to a nicer area with great coffeeshops for studying. Yes, there are guys standing outside at 9am trying to get you into their brothel. Even through the stench of durien and hookers, I was able to get in about 10 hours of review a day and eventually passed the test.

Welcome to INSEAD. Welcome to Singapore.

Some random thoughts:

- for practicing listening and speaking I found a really good language podcast on iTunes: LearnItalianPod.com. For all my love of technology, I've never really gotten into Podcasts but this series was amazing. I would like to thank Massimo and Jane for their help in the process.

- Not only do people here drive on the other side of the street, while riding escalators, the "standing/slow" line is on the opposite side from America. I wonder how that stuff gets communicated.

- I'm convinced you can tell the level of freedom of political expression in countries by how observant they are of Don't Walk signals. There can seriously not be a car in sight and people will wait for the Walk signal here. I dont want to get caned and don't really know the territory yet, so even with the agitated New Yorker in me, I wait out the signal.

Walking Tours

While roaming "off the beaten path" could be the most cliched phrase in traveling, I did not exactly seek to make my way to the Empire State Building every Sunday while living in NYC. One summer, a friend recommended a mp3 walking tour by a company called Soundwalk.com, geared towards Ipods which were just getting popular. Their tagline is "Walking tours for people who don't like walking tours" and I was instantly intrigued by the idea of hipster-tourist activities. I'm not sure if this foreshadowed my current travels, but I began with the Chinatown NY walking tour.

It was downright amazing and I strongly, strongly recommend the NYC tours to anyone living there. They begin with a disclaimer that removes them from the responsibility of any physical harm you may experience during the tour, which of course made me more excited. It takes you through different neighborhoods and into very random situations. One of the first things on the Chinatown tour had the speaker say, "okay, keep walking. Do you see a grey door with Chinese print on your left? Open it. This is the (forget the name) coffee shop. Look over in the corner, is there an old Chinese man reading a newspaper," and YES there was an old Chinese man reading a paper, "that's Mr. Chang, he's been sitting there every day for over twenty years since his sons have taken over running the shop from him." Basically, throughout the tour there are these amazing situations that seem to almost be coordinated just for this tour. The legitimacy is almost made more real as some doors are sometimes in fact locked or people or stores on the tour aren't there.

I've since done the Little Italy, Meatpacking District, Wall Street, and Lower East Side tours, each having its own highlight. You have to be somewhat mentally ready to approach the tours as some of the situations are extremely awkward. For example, walking into a tiny butcher shop in Little Italy where there's a 90yr old Italian guy chopping meat, and just standing in the corner with your ipod silently, isn't for the faint of heart. However, if you're willing to engage in a little conversation and step out of your comfort zone, they've resulted in some amazing conversations. Supposedly there's a great Yankees tour (no way in hell for me, but I figure some of you would enjoy this) as well as a "Bronx Grafitti Walk".

I was happy to realize they've extended their tours to international locations, randomly partnering with Louis Vuitton for a series of Chinese tours. The Beijing tour was unbelievable and Soundwalk apparently has taken the previous tours to a whole new level. What they've done is add a new element of a running play for the duration of the tour. As you walk around, you actually learn about different sites through seemingly a movie script, narrated by a famous Chinese actor. Gong Li narrated the Beijing version that takes you through the Beijing Hutong, which are villages that have been around for hundreds of years and still very much occupied. I could not get over how well they created the feeling that you are essentially walking through the set of a movie as its happening.

Louis Vuitton Soundwalk --- Beijing with Gong Li
Uploaded by LouisVuitton08. - Explore exotic destinations and travel videos.

You learn about the history of the neighborhoods and meet some crazy people. My crowning achievement was introducing myself in Chinese to a 90yr old man with a long white beard who raises crickets that was mentioned on the tour. I also climbed a ladder that was mentioned and actually there, and found a huge pigeon farm. Apparently in the Hutong, people train their pigeons for flying contests, just because that's how shit goes down in the Hutong. By the end you actually feel like you've just witnessed an amazing play or show. The Beijing one has the best reviews and won some awards so I'm not positive that the quality of the storytelling in the other tours is as high, but this one wa definitely intense.



Naturally, the more popular these tours get, the less effective and interesting they will become. Well.....as all good hipster tourism goes, it's always better to have been there "before it went mainstream".

Language Observations

Six hours a day. It's been a good combination as Alan is fairly understanding of my beginner status, while Zhao You (and of course, her English name is 'Zoe') is the she-devil. She barely speaks English and my two hours every afternoon with her are fraught with fear and nerves. However, I've definitely been picking up a decent amount of Mandarin and would consider myself able to "order at restaurant", "direct a taxi", "ask for directions" and "order at a bar" which are the four fundamental building blocks of any language instruction.

Some observations of the Chinese language during my study:

I'm a big Diet Coke person. I think it was late in college, due to a general distaste for coffee, that I began to utilize that artificially refreshing taste of Diet Coke for caffeinating purposes. I would consider myself enough of a connossieur to rate the quality of the mix of syrup and soda water at a foutain dispenser. I asked Alan about how to translate Diet Coke, and apparently, the literal translation is amazingly "Wu Tang Ke Le", with Wu Tang literally meaning "without sugar" and "ke le" obviously meaning cola. I can't tell you how excited I've been at every opportunity to be ordering Wu Tang soda. Apparently what the RZA and GZA actually meant to be involved with is written is more closely pronounced and written as Wu Deng.

If someone asks you a qualitative questions and your answer is "eeehh" or "so-so", the word is MaMaHuHu, which translates literally to "Horse, Horse, Tiger, Tiger"....because you're actually telling the person, "not quite a horse horse, not quite a tiger tiger". In a thick Chinese accent it's even better.

The most interest and somewhat controversial observation: the first few days I incessantly heard people, old and young, saying "Nei Gah" almost every sentence. I definitely felt a little uncomfortable and was wondering what the hell was going on. I've since found out that it is just another language transitional phrase. I've seen from Italian, Spanish and English there are many random phrases that are said constantly while people are thinking/transitioning thoughts. In Italian, the number of "allora"s or "comunque"s, or in Spanish the "entonces" or "pero"s, or in English I guess the "like"s or "umm"s are far more frequent than basic grammar would demand. "Na ge" translates to 'that there' and is pronounced 'Nei Ga' in Beijing. It's still kinda uncomfortable and racist in my mind, but the idea of looking at a menu and then looking at a waitress and saying "nei ga, wu tang ke le" is still weirdly exciting.

As the foremost trader of the Hong Kong Dollar during my epic days as a trader, I was naturally curious to find out the translation in Mandarin. Turns out, it's "Gang Bi" (pronounced Gahng Bee). I won't get further into it, but I found this funny.

That first day of Alan playing a song for me was no fluke. His Asian love for the crooner song has definitely made class much more interesting, as early on in class I noted that I wouldn't mind learning some Chinese songs to belt out during karaoke. Alan has taken this to the next level as every day, at least thirty minutes are spent going through two songs. The first translates to "I Love You Like a Mouse Loves Rice". This one, as ridiculous as it sounds, was pretty easy for a beginner in Chinese to learn and easy to sing, and was actually a major hit apparently about four years ago. We've since been working on a more intense song about a historic battle of the Three Kingdoms in about 250 AD that is kind of a Rock Opera by a group named "Tank". The best part of this song is that there's a bridge that, well let's just say, is meant to be sung by either a woman or an eunuch. Alan does not hold back as in that quiet classroom and with only the faint sound of his budget speakers backing us, he'll belt out those ever so high notes as I cower to the protection of a lower octave.

This is the "I love you like a mouse loves rice" song that we sing together. Just picture it, Alan and Me, alone in a classroom, heartfully singing these words:

Man-dating

Note: the next few posts were from a few weeks back. Blogspot is blocked in China and I had a Kansan post the last two entries, but have now left Beijing and am working on catching up on the blog.

June 14th, 2009


Beijing has certainly more than lived up to expectations up to this point. One aspect of traveling I had completely forgotten about was the ease of socializing and making friends while abroad. I planned my trip here with absolutely no expectation or contacts in Beijing, and of course assumed, "I'm gonna just study the entire time and maybe have dinner out a few times." Well, one after the other, friend of friends keep popping up via facebook and word of mouth and its taken this from simply language study to truly experiencing the city.

I imagined this past weekend would have me eating dinner at some Lonely Planet recommended restaurant, followed by some random wandering and heading home around midnight. I'd wake up early and go sightseeing all day long. Well, it turned out someone from my high school had been living here for the past six years and his work in PR allowed him for both an extensive network of both locals and ex-pats, along with knowing a good deal of local bar and restaurant owners. My quiet weekend turned into two nights of three hour-long dinners, drinking at a series of bars, and of course, karaoke (Yes, I did get some sightseeing in).

What I was reminded of from this past weekend was the ease of the "man-date" while abroad. Nowadays, movies like "I Love You, Man" have brought man-dating and bromance to the forefront of pop culture but this is certainly an issue I've thought about since I lived in NYC. I remember my first year there, a good college friend was in town, and his best friend from high school also turned out to be living in the city. We all went out as a result of my friend's visit, and at the end of a great evening, that fateful question was asked, "um dude...this was fun. we should hang out. um...can i, um...get your number?"

Now, this was a new phenomenon. In college your friends are just "kinda there" via classes, dorms, greek life, etc. Suddenly this seemingly intrusive question had an immense utilitarian value. I knew a decent amount of people thanks to an analyst class and other random connections, but I realized that this new, non-school life, might actually demand exchanging numbers with guys you think you might enjoy hanging out with, and yes, go on man-dates with. It became even weirder realizing that the early part of a man-tionship was even similar to dating a woman.

What I've remembered is, man-dating while abroad is an entirely different situation than in your permanent city of residence. If you're out with a group, if you remotely hit it off with another guy in the group, it's totally not gay to ask them for their number. Everyone understands your situation, and, I think helped out by an intense concept of hospitality that's part of the Beijing culture, is extremely willing to hang out or keep you informed with stuff to do. Many of the people I've met are either ex-pats who are downright excited to help you out, or are locals who are of the variety that enjoy meeting westerners. I'm fairly excited as I've been able to experience Beijing the way I would show NYC to any visitor: the West Village or Soho vs. Times Square and the Circle Line. Only one week left and not sure I want to leave.

Other observations:

In total contrast to my entire post above about experiencing the 'local' culture, is the awesome fast food I've been eating. McDonalds has a "Spicy McPork" sandwich, which, I'm not going even begin to compare to a Momofuku Pork Bun, but it's a world better than your basic McChicken. I imagine to a native Chinaman it could be just as bland a taste as the aforementioned McChicken, but damn is it good to me. The fast food highlight has to be the "KFC Peking Chicken Wrap". To those who have had the pleasure of proper Peking Duck at either any Chinatown establishment, or the trader version at Mr. Chows, this is definitely something to be experienced. Hoisin sauce, sliced cucumber, a thin wrap, with flavorful fried chicken strips instead of duck. The Colonel always did kinda look Chinese.

As evidenced by the subject of much of my writing, I've been eating a lot. The metrosexual in me had defnitely been feeling disgusting and I'd decided I needed to exercise in some capacity. The nearest gym was about 45 minutes via public transportation for me so that was absolutely not happening. I decided I would just need to get back into running, but running shoes had not made the cut due to limitations on packing. I went shopping in a mall that had a Nike, Puma, and Reebok store in addition to a few random Chinese atheletic brands. I never thought my size 12 feet would be of a freakish quality, but let's just say, I'm currently the proud owner of a really ugly pair of black Reebok running shoes.

Alan and Me

Alan and Me

Studying language abroad can go any number of directions. For those who attempted this endeavor in some capacity during college, you understand the massive spectrum of experiences that can take place. Some people go the homestay route and spend their time in a small town with a family and come out fluent. Some go in with no knowledge of the language and come out having learned basic conversational skills. Some just go to Australia and don't even try. My junior year, I went to Rome having taken a good deal of Italian. I studied incessantly before leaving, with high aspirations of coming out fluent. Well...I drank a lot, made some lifelong friends, had one of the best experiences of my life, and came out of the semester having forgotten much of what I had previously known

I kept this in mind while choosing a Chinese language class. I heard Shanghai was the coolest city in China, but a friend who lives there gave her earnest opinion that if I really wanted to try to learn any Mandarin, I needed to spend time in Beijing (or maybe she just didn't want me moving there and pestering her). I decided to take the plunge and looked up language classes here in Beijing. Much like many other well researched decisions in life, I basically took the route of "highest google result" and "best website" to choose my school. I read some reviews that said that the school was full of "hard partying Koreans and Japanese" but figured that I'd already chosen Beijing over Shanghai, and it wouldnt hurt to have some fun people around.

I arrived in Beijing on Sunday night and the school had a car pickup service at the airport. They helped me get set up in my room (which is adjacent to the school) and I went to bed with that giddiness that comes before the first day of school. What crazy ass Asians would I meet out here? Would I learn any Mandarin? Would the hard partying Koreans cower in fear of a large brown person?

I reported to the school office in the morning where my teacher was waiting, and he told me "let's head over to the classroom." We walked over and I began wondering, would the Jet-setting Japanese be already in the class? We walked in and sat down. Yup, it was just us. I nervously looked around wondering if I was about to get Hostel'ed or Turista'd. It then got even more awesomely weird. The teacher's name
was Alan, and he's a local Beijinger who was wearing a pink t-shirt that said "Volunteer Blood Donor" with an olympic logo on it. He attached some old school Labtec looking speakers to his laptop and said "we'll start your experience with a song". He then played this song, "Beijing Huan Ying Ni" (Beijing Welcomes You) which was apparently the song 'sung' by the cute little girl in the Olympic Opening Ceremony controversy. We sat there, just Alan and me, for the full 7:03 of the song, just kind of looking at each other. This was definitely his routine normally and he was not diverging. I sometimes forget that the gawker.com sense of irony, or Bill Simmons "unintentional comedy scale" certainly don't exist in the minds of the Chinese. There are generally 3-5 students in the other classes, but I am the only beginner starting in June. Four hours a day, just Alan and me.

Needless to say, my Mandarin is coming along splendidly.

Some other observations:

A major style for men is to sit outside in the heat and roll your t-shirt up to the chest area and just let your sweaty belly hang out, often patting it, with a cigarette hanging out the side of your mouth. I'm not gonna deny, they really look happy in this pose and at the rate I'm eating the amazing food here, I may be able to join them in a week's time.

Walking around Tiananmen Square on Tuesday, on two separate occassions I was stopped and people took pictures with me. They looked to be kinda the 'country or redneck' version of Chinese, and I guess they were just fascinated and perhaps never seen an Indian before? The city/rural distinction is definitely large here and I wonder if there's currently people playing Red State - Blue State, the Chinese edition.

Normally, if you're heading out for the afternoon and look at your window at a sea of people with umbrellas, you'll make sure to grab one. Definitely not the case out here.

Outbreak

While the H1N1, Mexican Flu,Swine Flu scare, or whatever Sanjay Gupta is calling it these days, may have subsided in the U.S., my flight to Beijing proved a different environment. Now, the sight of an Asian wearing a germ mask in Chinatown is probably as regular as an umbrella on a 90 degree day, I definitely noticed a large percentage of passengers wearing them on the Tokyo leg of my flight. The fear is alive and well here in Asia, and they are certainly playing a strong defense. What was remarkable was the difference in defensive techniques among Japan and China, a dichotomy more intense than the Prevent vs. the Goal Line.

Last time I made the east coast of U.S. to Asia trip I was flying business class and loving every minute of it (work trip to Singapore). Now that this is my life 'after trading', I had the pleasure of a coach flight with two layovers (in NYC and Tokyo). When we landed in Tokyo, after a 14 hour flight where I of course had the middle seat, they didn't let us get off and announced that there would be members of the quarantine team coming through. Two guys walked through the aisles with masks on and some weird outfits and machinery. It struck me that they just walked up and down while the announcement said that "if you are experiencing any symptoms like fever, swelling of the glands, nausea, or diarrhea, please raise your hand and identify yourself." Ummm...okay. I guess things just worked a little differently out here. I could just imagine raising my hand and informing them, "yeah, on that last point, I don't want to jump to conclusions here, but I did eat your airplane Japanese seafood curry for my dinner. I'm just saying." Needless to say, no one raised their hands and we were out within minutes.

China...a different story. A similar announcement that the quarantine team would board the plane when we landed. This time it took a little longer. The 'quarantine team' representing the People's Republic of China went through, and had this weird plastic gun-like thermometer that they stuck in front of everyone's forehead one by one, and I think it took your temperature (I hope that's all it did). Someone near the back either had a slight temperature, or was suffering from Ebola, as about six members of the Q.T. all congregated back there and talked very seriously. In the end, we were all given a card saying "you may be exposed to communicable diseases. if you experience flu-like symptoms in the next 7 days please take this card to a doctor." Ruthless defensive efficiency.

If I'm not blogging in a week from now, please email or call to check up on me.

Other observations:

It was pretty awesome on the car ride to the airport, hearing my Indian parents make amazingly sweeping generalizations on China and Chinese people. Exchanges like, "It's disgusting, they eat absolutely everything over there. I heard they eat dogs." "But mom, you've told me in India you guys have eaten goat brains." "Yeah, but that is SO different, those are good." My father also warned me they will probably confiscate my hard drive upon entry.

I heard Keri Hilson's "Knock Me Down" three times in the Tokyo airport. Watch out for this to be the official song of the summer.

I was telling some people during my last flight that SkyMall magazine is definitely a 'boom time' magazine as I can't imagine during a recession people are buying a 20 ft. x 10 ft. world map for their child to practice world capitals. That being said, if you thought SkyMall had some ridiculous shit in it, you should see the Japanese Airlines version of SkyMall. I don't even know where to begin.

Is it the same woman working at every Hudson News location? She is about 40something and looks maybe Moroccan or a darker Arabic? She looks like she might've been pretty back in the day in an exotic way and I swear, at the JFK location it looked like she was working with her twin. I think she also works at most Dunkin' Donuts locations in
the Boston area.

Say It Ain't So, Doc

Part of the fun of planning for a global excursion has been the number of doctors visits involved in the preparation. Between blood tests, vaccinations, and a general checkup, the costs and time spent have been high. Singapore even requires you to get a chest x-ray to determine if you have any previous exposure to tuberculosis. Now, I know I'm headed outside the U.S., but do people even get TB anymore? My trip to the Travel Health Specialist for typhoid and malaria vaccines even ended up with me even paying an extra $65 for a Polio vaccination. It got to a point where I was waiting for a doctor to prescribe me an antidote for the Plague.

Anyways, as I was scheduling the chest x-ray, I had informed the doctor of my ITBS-symptomatic hip problem that is still annoying the hell out of me even four months later. He recommended I get a hip x-ray as I was going to the radiology department for my chest already, just to be safe.

On Tuesday I went back for the followup, and thankfully, no tuberculosis. Then he pulled out a sheet of paper with the hip x-ray results and told me that there was absolutely nothing wrong. I asked him if he could provide any more color as to why, even after easing off the capoeira and running, I was still having regular pain and "pins and needles" throughout my leg. He calmly turned to me and uttered words that, short of being informed of a terminal disease, are the words that no one ever wants to hear. "Ranjan, you're in great health. What you have to be aware of is that you're heading towards 30 and not getting younger. The body can't do what it did at 20. You can still play soccer, go running, and be completely active, but if you maintain the same level of activity as before, it's necessary to compensate with more stretching and rest. You just can't ignore those physical necessities and get away with it anymore. It's just natural." 

Fuck. 

Kansas Blogging Two: Red State - Blue State

AJ's New York Pizzeria is based off a simple premise: getting a NY style slice of pizza in the middle of nowhere Kansas. I have to say that before moving to New York, even living in suburban Boston, pizza to me was Pizza Hut or Papa Gino's, and the differentiation in quality was generally based on the toppings included. The idea that there was a real difference in two slices of just plain cheese pizza was completely foreign. As pizza has certainly been on my rotation of "kinda meals/snack" and late night drunken eating, I became familiar very quickly with a number of places throughout the city and have of course, in NYC fashion, strong opinions about different places (Frank's on 1st ave and 20th st still being my favorite).



As Adam slowly realized that he didn't really want to pursue his career as a fashion buyer in women's denim at Barneys (I kid you not, that was the pre-pizza career) he started mulling other options. He eventually settled on the idea of trying to bring quality pizza by the slice back home to Kansas. Second row seats during Fashion Week and mornings spent looking at models showing off jeans in SoHo showrooms was to be replaced by brick ovens and quality cheeses. Adam very randomly found one of the nation's leading experts on pizza dough, the Dough Doctor (completely serious), himself a midwesterner, who helped him plan his business-to-be. While a great idea, we were all definitely curious as to whether he could pull this off.

As the restaurant was getting built and we began that battle that happens every four years called the Presidential Election, Adam and me came up with a game called Red State / Blue State. Often on Friday mornings, via gchat (which somehow for all my time at BofA was never blocked...thank you Steve Humble) would talk about our previous night. One of the best instances was when, going first as the Blue State (warning: obnoxious trader sentiment ahead) I recounted a Nobu dinner, followed by cocktails by a 'mixologist' at some trendy new bar, followed by meeting a bunch of eurotrash at some club. The Red State response was about as contrastingly awesome as it gets: Adam had spent the day getting a car sawed in half at a junkyard to be used as decor in his restaurant, then offroading in his 4x4 as part of an offroading club, finishing off with a six-pack while watching tv at the end of the night.



Red State / Blue State went on all throughout the rest of my working days, as even with a physical move to One Bryant Park, my gchat was never blocked (maybe this has a connection to why I'm now writing a blog called life AFTER trading?). As of last summer AJ's NY Pizzeria opened and after my epic travel across the state of Missouri, I finally had the opportunity to sample a slice.



*The pizza was actually very good and very comparable to what I'd consider above average NYC slices. I'm definitely curious as to whether Adam is able to franchise the concept across the midwest. I have to say it was pretty impressive to see the mostly finished product that was built from scratch, and hopefully AJ's will do for pizza what Chili's did for Tex-Mex. As Adam said, I'd rather own the Darden Group (owners of the Olive Garden among others) instead of Cipriani's.

**The meat-lovers pizza Adam affectionately calls the "18th and 8th", to pay homage to a block right near where we lived. The Kansans hopefully will never get the joke.

- Street signs used as table markers so the food runners know where to send which orders. A little bit of NYC kitsch.

***You know you're in the midwest when: after a night of drinking at the K-State bars I woke up on Adam's couch to what smelled like urine. Now, as most of you know, I enjoy a cocktail or two. However, I've so far been spared the indignity of waking up having, as the kids say, pissed the bed. After slightly panicking, I thoroughly researched the couch and vicinity with no sign of dampness anywhere, yet the smell of urine still wafted through the air. Adam walked out and I asked him if he had any theories. He calmly responded that this had happened before and, "I think the neighbors might be making meth." Kansas, I will miss you.