Archive for the ‘adventures’ Category

So you’re in a dessert, but you’re bones, and it grows.

Sunday, September 5th, 2010

I’ve been in Seattle the past few days for Penny-Arcade Expo (PAX) and, as usual, the “Pitch Your Game” panel car­ries a spe­cial degree of import for me. The premise of the panel is that audi­ence mem­bers are given 15–45 sec­onds to pitch an idea for a video game and have it judged (harshly) by the panel. Those mak­ing it past this ele­va­tor pitch are admit­ted to the sec­ond round where they go into greater detail on their idea. Finally prizes are given to the best three ideas. It is impor­tant to note that the met­ric for deter­min­ing the best game idea is a com­bi­na­tion of hilar­ity and enter­tain­ment qual­ity, hav­ing noth­ing to do with mar­ketabil­ity or gen­uine qual­ity. Hilarity, of course, ensues.

“Pitch Your Game” is not just one of my favorite parts of PAX; it is a favorite for much of the Fort-Awesome crowd. Having come to PAX a num­ber of times, we’ve come to regard plan­ning ridicu­lous game pitches as a time hon­ored, evening, hotel room tra­di­tion. This year, in pitch plan­ning we came up with a num­ber of hilar­i­ous ideas, as well as a flood of hor­ri­ble and/or unspeak­able ideas. Additionally, we came to the real­iza­tion that any crappy pitch can be made more amus­ing by append­ing “with JRPG ele­ments; also, it’s a rhythm game” (ex. Angry Badger is like Sonic: The Hedgehog but you can’t run fast and the main char­ac­ters a drunk; also it has JRPG ele­ments and it’s rhythm game) (the real hilar­ity comes after numer­ous repetitions).

Eventually, we nar­rowed our­selves down to a rea­son­able num­ber of pitches: Mexican Gear Solid: Tactical Stealth Immigration, Underground Railroad Tycoon, and FEMA Presents Al Roker’s Hurricane Alley 2011. Eventually, these pitches all went splen­didly in the panel and made it to the sec­ond round. After call­ing Friday a night, head­ing to bed and falling asleep, Riad and I appar­ently kept pitch­ing ideas (this is much like other instances of my sleep talk­ing that I have been informed of). Amongst the ram­blings of my sleep, Bigtime, who was awake at the time, over­heard me say, “so you’re in the desert, but you’re bones, and it grows.” This phrase so intrigued me that I decided that it must be my pitch.

My ptich went a lit­tle some­thing like this:

Me: “I’m not entirely clear on some details since a lot of this was related to me by a friend who heard me ram­bling in my sleep. However to the best of my fig­ur­ing, the prophets of old came to me in my dreams and bid me pitch a game, in exactly these words: So you’re in the desert, but you’re bones and it grows.”

Entire room: [per­plexed silence for a few moments]

Panelist: You should stop sleeping.

Me: There’s more.

Panelist: Is that a threat?

Me: Maybe.

Panelist: No. Just no.

The end result, for me, was not the sec­ond round but to have con­founded the panel and the entire room into stunned silence was absolutely priceless.

Dignity is for those that do not travel

Thursday, September 2nd, 2010

Sitting, wait­ing to board my flight from San Francisco to Seattle for PAX Prime, I have already, once, for­feited my dig­nity to my over­lord, Police State USA. Standing up to the man as much as might still allow me to fly, I opted-out of soak­ing up the X-rays that aren’t backscat­tered and hav­ing my naked body put on dis­play for the highly trained elite that is the TSA. Opting-out, of course, sub­jects me to a manda­tory pat-down. During the pat-down, I am granted the dig­ni­fied cour­tesy of hav­ing my spe­cial places be pat­ted down by the back of the agent’s hands; lucky me. Dignity sac­ri­ficed at the alter of home­land secu­rity, I was per­mit­ted to wait for my plane.

At least I sprung for the slightly more expen­sive, exit row and free booze seats: now I can drink until my dig­nity doesn’t matter.

Mosquitoes are Maddening

Wednesday, July 14th, 2010

Being in San Francisco for so long, I have become accus­tomed, men­tally and phys­i­cally, to a sub­stan­tially less aggra­vat­ing envi­ron­ment than I had pre­vi­ously known. Being in Massachusetts–hot, muggy Massachusetts–again, I am recall­ing some of the things that I had left behind–some bad, some good. One thing that I had all but for­got­ten was mos­qui­toes; we don’t really get notice­able num­bers of mos­qui­toes in South of Market, San Francisco. Being here, and it hav­ing been rain­ing recently, the mos­qui­toes were out in full force, while I was work­ing on my boat’s trailer. As such, my sweet, deli­cious, George-blood has been con­sumed by a great many foul lit­tle beasts that have left behind their hor­ren­dous, anti-coagulating, inflammation-inducing, anti­gens of pain.

I’m not sure if my mem­ory is soft and mos­qui­toes have always been this unpleas­ant, if I used to be more adept at avoid­ing their painful bites, or if I had once devel­oped a tol­er­ance to their venom that has since sub­sided. However it may be, I hate mos­qui­toes far more now than I recall hat­ing them in the past.

I’m pretty sure that mos­qui­toes, like sand fleas, are some­thing that I wouldn’t mind sac­ri­fic­ing entire food chains to see go extinct.

A hole in the water into which you pour time and money

Tuesday, July 13th, 2010

One of the things that I’m look­ing to do as a part of this trip east is bring Synchronicity, my Hobie 16, out to California. Given that I haven’t sailed Synchronicity since 2007, the first orders of busi­ness were to free her and fix her up.

It took me about a week of on-and-off yard-work to exca­vate Synchronicity from the weeds that had over­grown her in my absence. Having exca­vated Synchronicity, it was dam­age assess­ment time.

Synchronicity’s trailer was struc­turally alto­gether but one of the tires was flat and both of the wheels were pretty thor­oughly rusted; addi­tion­ally, all of the lights and wiring were shot. So I bought new wheels and a whole new set of lights and wires. I’ve got the wheels swapped out and I’ll redo the wiring tomor­row, if it doesn’t rain. All told, not a lot of effort in repair­ing the trailer but a decent bit of expense, espe­cially when com­bined with the cost of buy­ing a trailer hitch and get­ting it installed on my car.

Thankfully, Synchronicity, her­self, seems to be hold­ing up pretty well. I had to replace all of the ropes and one of the shrouds that I dam­aged while clear­ing away the weeds, which is some expense and lit­tle effort. The main hal­yard also needs replac­ing and, on a Hobie Cat, it’s not just a sim­ple rope, so that’s another lit­tle expense. The mast, sails, tram­po­line, and hull struc­ture are all in good shape but the gel­coat on the bot­tom of the hulls is pretty sad. I might fix the gel­coat now but odds are pretty good that I’ll wait until I get back to San Francisco, as it may be a bit too time/effort inten­sive for my remain­ing week and a half

Between all of the repair costs and the expected decreases in fuel effi­ciency for the drive west, I expect that it’ll prob­a­bly cost me a good $500-$800 to get Synchronicity out on the waters of San Francisco Bay. Take that plus an esti­mated 30–50 hours of my time and ask me if it’s worth it.

Heck yes it’s worth it! There are few things in the world like sail­ing a catamaran.

2010 Journey East: Some numbers

Monday, July 5th, 2010

I’m rather fond of keep­ing metic­u­lous data about var­i­ous things and the list of such things cer­tainly con­tains sta­tis­tics about my car. Having fin­ished the trip east, here are some num­bers from the trip:

Odometer leav­ing San Francisco, CA: 1715
Odometer arriv­ing Austin, TX: 3532
Odometer leav­ing Austin, TX: 3540
Odometer arriv­ing Atlanta, GA: 4730
Odometer leav­ing Atlanta, GA: 4730
Odometer arriv­ing Concord, MA: 5837
Odometer leav­ing Concord, MA: 5850
Odometer arriv­ing Woods Hole, MA: 5947

The fol­low­ing num­bers are a lit­tle off because I started and fin­ished with par­tially full tanks of fuel:

Total diesel con­sumed: ~115 gal­lons
Total cost of fuel: ~$340

The astute reader will notice that I have been get­ting fuel econ­omy in the upper thir­ties of miles per gal­lon. This is cor­rect and, when observed on a more gran­u­lar level it does seem to be show­ing a trend upwards, though that trend is likely not sta­tis­ti­cally sig­nif­i­cant. As I intend to con­tinue mea­sur­ing my fuel con­sump­tion for the life of my car, I will be able to give bet­ter data later, when I am more than 6000 miles and 15 tanks of fuel in.

2010 Journey East: Here I am, I guess

Monday, July 5th, 2010

Well, I’m sit­ting here in our house in Woods Hole, sip­ping a beer, read­ing an inter­est­ing physics paper about the holo­graphic prin­ci­ple, and I thought that it might be good to take a few moments to update you all on the past few days.

Having left Matt’s place in Atlanta on Friday morn­ing, I jour­neyed up through the Carolinas, Virginia, Maryland, New Jersey, New York and into Connecticut on Friday. Baldr and I slept at a rest area in the back of my car in Connecticut and then went on to my par­ents’ place in Concord, MA on Saturday. Saturday evening, after din­ner, I fin­ished the jour­ney down to Woods Hole, MA so as to avoid any morn­ing traf­fic on Sunday (the 4th).

In the process, I man­aged to fin­ish Cloud Atlas and I am pleased to report that it was, in fact, quite good.

Anyway, leav­ing Atlanta, and dri­ving through Georgia for a while, I ended up in South Carolina. Driving through South Carolina on an inter­state, one sees quite a few signs adver­tis­ing the sale of fire­works. Initially, my reac­tion was mostly a ho-hum, fire­works are kind of fun but do I really care enough to stop and buy some. Thankfully, after pass­ing a dozen or so adver­tise­ments on the road, I came to my senses and real­ized that, of course, I want fire­works, big awe­some fire­works. Coming to my senses, and stop­ping at the next place I could find, I pro­ceeded to buy a bit over a hun­dred dol­lars worth of fireworks–primarily mor­tars and bot­tle rock­ets as those are my pref­er­ence. We went through about half of the fire­works yes­ter­day while we watched the Falmouth fire­works from Fay Beach. A num­ber of youths (young­sters, teenagers, hooli­gans, what­ever you want to call them) clus­tered around us and we were nice enough to share my fire­works with them. It was rather pleas­ant to share fire­works with a younger gen­er­a­tion and I cer­tainly know that I would have appre­ci­ated it had some­one done so with my when I was that age; I couldn’t help but also feel good about pos­si­bly instill­ing some tiny amount of respect for the proper oper­a­tion of things that have labels like, “Warning: Shoots Flaming Balls”. Subsequently, Dave, Paul, and I played a rous­ing game of Power Grid, which is an excel­lent board game.

That’s most of what I have to report of the past few days; it’s nice to be here after so long away. I should be here for about the next three weeks so it’ll be inter­est­ing to see how things play out.

2010 Journey East: Day 3: Austin

Wednesday, June 30th, 2010

Although exceed­ingly warm by my stan­dards, Austin is not an unpleas­ant place. The pri­mary events of the 3rd day of my jour­ney were lunch with Gautham and Ariel; the acqui­si­tion of nearly suf­fi­cient wardrobe items as will serve most of my needs for the sum­mer; a rather sub­stan­tial nap; and din­ner with Riad, Gautham, Cyrus, and Riad’s lady-friend.

Baldr has been hav­ing a good time hang­ing out with Nico and Shockley, as well as, gen­er­ally, not being in the car. Baldr mostly sits, stands, lies down, or naps in the car, which, prac­ti­cally speak­ing, is not alto­gether dis­sim­i­lar from what he does dur­ing the vast major­ity of other times.

Also, I fin­ished Moby Dick and it was awe­some. Moby Dick is, truly, a leviathan of lit­er­a­ture in every pos­si­ble sense.

Austin is serv­ing as a nice part-way spot to rest and, if it were the week­end, it might be pleas­ant to stay a lit­tle longer. In order to cover dis­tance, rather than wait while peo­ple work, Day 4 will, hope­fully, see the Louisiana shore and the city of New Orleans.

2010 Journey East: Day 2: In brief summary

Tuesday, June 29th, 2010

It’s 3AM Central Time and I arrived at Riad’s place in Austin, TX some­where between 30 and 60 min­utes ago.

It being 3AM, I shall keep this brief and, per­haps, go into greater detail tomorrow.

There were a few notable things that occurred dur­ing the day:

There was a US Border Patrol inspec­tion point on I-10E an hour or so East of El Paso, TX whereat I was first asked if I was a US cit­i­zen, then asked where I was from, where I was going, and what the pur­pose of my trip was. My car was visu­ally inspected from the out­side and sniffed by a dog. I was asked Baldr’s age and I was sent on my way. The line of cars wait­ing to be inspected, the time spent per car, and the inter­rup­tion to my cruis­ing speed prob­a­bly cost me a half hour or so. I’m not sure whether this is an indi­ca­tion that the ter­ror­ists or the anti-immigration crack-pots have won.

Somewhere in the midst of Texas, among the scrub­land and the mesas, in the mid-afternoon, I hit bore­dom for the first time; it was an odd, unpleas­ant feel­ing that I haven’t felt in a very long time but its explo­ration and com­ing through the other side are chief ele­ments of this vaca­tion. After hit­ting that point, I drove in my bore­dom with the music and audio­books off for a time before the bore­dom passed and Moby Dick resumed. Speaking of Moby Dick; I am on the 18th or 18 discs, near­ing the final chap­ters and absolutely riveted.

Sometime shortly after my bore­dom passed I encoun­tered a rain of insects. Droplets, or what seemed to be droplets, began hit­ting my wind­shield at the rate of a mild shower but, some moments later, when I decided to use my wipers to remove the droplets, they merely smeared across the wind­shield. This hor­rid rain per­sisted for a good fif­teen to thirty min­utes, even­tu­ally leav­ing my wind­shield with sub­stan­tially dimin­ished clar­ity, in spite of many appli­ca­tions of wind­shield wipers with fluid.

Due to my own lazi­ness and my cars extreme econ­omy, those insects remained on my wind­shield through night­fall, on into the night, and only finally were extri­cated by an actual rain­fall about a hun­dred miles out from Austin. I say a hun­dred miles out because that is where the rain began; it was not, how­ever, very local­ized. For the last hun­dred miles of the drive, the weather vac­il­lated wildly between mild mist and rains so tor­ren­tial that I haven’t seen their likes since last I saw the outer fringes of hur­ri­canes in New England. I have heard that there is a trop­i­cal storm off the coast now and this truly felt like its outer edges.

There were plenty of other sights and events dur­ing the day but, as I said before, the time is late and I must sleep.

2010 Journey East: Day 1 addendum: Nope

Monday, June 28th, 2010

That I am in the Buckeye Motor Hotel in Buckeye, AZ should answer the ques­tion of whether or not I suc­ceeded in sleep­ing in the 90°F weather present at that rest area.

Overall, $55 ($45+$10/pet) isn’t a bad price to pay for a room with air con­di­tion­ing. Given my cur­rent needs, I prob­a­bly would have paid $55 for a 6.5’x6.5′ closet with air con­di­tion­ing; I’d be grip­ing about it in this post but I prob­a­bly would have done it. I guess, alter­na­tively, I could have left the engine idling and the air con­di­tion­ing on in my car; the fuel prob­a­bly would have lasted the night and on to the near­est gas sta­tion but the main­te­nance costs down the line would not have been worth it.

I’ve been tak­ing I-10E since LA, which passes straight through Phoenix. Since I’ll be dri­ving in the morn­ing, I have no desire to hit traf­fic, and Buckeye’s half-way between I-10 and I-8, I think that I’ll divert myself around Phoenix on I-8E so as to meet back up with I-10 south of Phoenix.

Ok, the air con­di­tion­ing seems to have cooled the room suf­fi­ciently that I can get some sleep.

With luck, my next post will be from Riad’s place in Austin.

2010 Journey East: Day 1: I suck at remembering stuff

Monday, June 28th, 2010

Right now, I sit in my car, typ­ing to you on my work lap­top over my phone’s Internet, in a rest area where I plan to sleep, approx­i­mately 50 miles easy of Phoenix, AZ, hav­ing dri­ven 703 miles in just shy of 10.5 hours, hav­ing used less than two tanks of fuel.

So far, bar­ring two issues, it’s been an alto­gether pleas­ant trip. Due to tar­di­ness in pack­ing and clean­ing, I set out around noon-thirty, which was about three hours later than I had intended but there isn’t really any time crit­i­cal­ity to my jour­ney, so it’s not a big deal. A cou­ple hours into the jour­ney, when I set about get­ting break­fast, lunch, my first meal of the day, or what­ever you want to call it, that I had for­got­ten to bring Baldr’s leash and pinch col­lar; as a result, Baldr’s short walks dur­ing the trip have been either off-leash or using a bungee-cord as an impro­vised leash; I will have to buy a new leash and pinch col­lar some­time tomor­row; so it goes. We encoun­tered hints of traf­fic near LA but noth­ing too both­er­some and, oth­er­wise, have had smooth and fast paced travel.

I have been lis­ten­ing to Moby Dick on audio­book and am cur­rently on disc 8 of 18. I must, truly and hon­estly, say that this work of prose is truly an amaz­ing thing. Moby Dick is, at times, for that mat­ter, most times, rather slow paced, such that I expect I wouldn’t be able to man­age this degree of devo­tion were I not a cap­tive audi­ence with a great deal of monot­ony on my side. However, see­ing as I am a cap­tive audi­ence, I have been greatly enjoy­ing the work for its vari­ety, depth, descrip­tive­ness, phi­los­o­phy, and sheer grav­i­tas. At this rate, I should have fin­ished this mon­strous epic well before I make Austin.

Sometime, approx­i­mately two hours ago, I was think­ing about whether or not I would change my clothes while on the road when it occurred to me that I had no rec­ol­lec­tion of load­ing my suit­case into my car. On fur­ther inspec­tion, I can, in fact, con­firm that I also for­got to put my suit­case in my car. Man, do I feel like an idiot. Thankfully, my suit­case con­tains only clothes and toi­letries, which are rel­a­tively eas­ily replace­able for the pur­poses of such a jour­ney; though it is supremely both­er­some to have to do so unin­ten­tion­ally. My lap­top, charg­ers, and every­thing else are thank­fully in my mes­sen­ger bag, which leaves me still able to per­form the var­i­ous tasks that I intend to per­form and, to be entirely hon­est, I was think­ing, just yes­ter­day, that it was about time for me to buy some new clothes; call it unfor­tu­nate prov­i­dence, I guess.

I won­der what else I will come to dis­cover that I have forgotten.

Anyway, now it’s time to see if I can get any sleep in this abom­inable 90°F Arizona night; hope­fully it won’t dis­tress Baldr too much either.

Woods Hole, MIT, Virgin America; it’s a small world

Monday, December 28th, 2009

Yesterday, in return­ing from a week long, Christmas related stint in my home state of Massachusetts, I had a par­tic­u­larly intrigu­ing synchronicity.

I was fly­ing Virgin America, which is an excel­lent air­line but that’s an entire dis­cus­sion of its own right. As a mat­ter of good for­tune, I was fly­ing Main Cabin Select, which pro­vides, amongst other things, the option of check­ing in through the First Class line. The reg­u­lar line was pro­ceed­ing rather quickly and a young lady behind me in line made a com­ment to the effect of it seem­ing a mis­take to be in the First Class line. My moti­va­tions being as they are, I took a few moments to chat with this nice young lady but didn’t make it far before it was my turn to go for­ward and check my baggage.

Conversations cut short are unfor­tu­nate but such things hap­pen. I pro­ceeded through secu­rity, got to the gate, waited a while and boarded the plane where who should end up in the seat next to me but the very same young woman who had been behind me in line. This was a pleas­ant coin­ci­dence but not ter­ri­bly sur­pris­ing inso­far as there are not very many Main Cabin Select seats on any given plane. Shortly after tak­ing her seat, this young woman says to me, “nice ring” and, as I glance over, it turns out that she’s an MIT grad­u­ate as well; there’s a pleas­ant extra level to this coin­ci­dence and a good source for con­ver­sa­tion topics.

As we’re chat­ting about var­i­ous things, this young woman (who I am going to refer to as Margaret because it’s eas­ier than con­tin­u­ing to use qual­i­fied generic nouns), men­tions that she was on the crew team and I men­tioned that I had been on the sail­ing team. Somehow, in dis­cussing sail­ing, I men­tioned spend­ing sum­mers on Cape Cod, which raised the ques­tion of where. My answer, of course, is Woods Hole and, lo and behold, Margaret’s fam­ily also has a place in Woods Hole. I should note that Woods Hole is a very small town and it’s quite rare that I encounter some­one in Woods Hole that I have not met before, espe­cially some­one within 5 years of my own age. As a result, rather unsur­pris­ingly, it turns out that Margaret and I have at least a dozen mutual acquain­tances and friends.

Overall, it was a fan­tas­ti­cally sur­pris­ing coin­ci­dence; so much so that it makes me wish that Mr. Data were on hand to tell me what the odds of the coin­ci­dence were. Certainly there exist cer­tain biases to cor­rect for, which make it such that the coin­ci­dence isn’t purely ran­dom but I am not ter­ri­bly inclined to enu­mer­ate all of the non-random fac­tors that may have con­tributed. Why such a coin­ci­dence hap­pened, I can’t say, but it did, and that’s great. The end result is that I’ve nar­rowed the gap of peo­ple that I don’t know in Woods Hole and made a con­nec­tion with a pleas­ant new per­son in this world.

Influenza Influence

Saturday, May 23rd, 2009

Arising from a nap taken while sprawl­ing across three seats on MX976 from Guadalajara to San Francisco, I am reminded of a desire to com­ment on the so-called swine flu. Of the five flights taken dur­ing my trip, none have been at capac­ity and two have pro­vided me with full rows for myself. The true uti­liza­tion is in stark con­trast with the near full planes that were described when I pur­chased my tick­ets; I under­stand Mexicana was allow­ing refunds of some sort on account of the flu.

Cancun was, I have been led to under­stand, empty rel­a­tive to other years at this time. The resort at which I stayed was likely at no more than 30% occu­pancy; near full capac­ity is the norm. Other resorts and hotels were closed due to a lack of guests. This, of course, meant that we large­ley had the resort to our­selves but, self­ish­ness aside, it also means that the local econ­omy is suf­fer­ing an absolutely hor­ri­ble col­lapse and any locals with­out suf­fi­cient sav­ings may need to seek other work. Compounding with the gen­eral global down­turn, there will likely be a pro­foundly neg­a­tive effect on Cancun and other Mexican resort areas.

The response of the Mexican gov­ern­ment is rather inter­est­ing as well. The gov­ern­ment had health check­points set up at air­ports and state bor­ders. Individuals are required to fill out a ques­tion­aire as to whether or not they are suf­fer­ing any flu symp­toms and then have their tem­per­a­ture checked by ther­mal cam­era or infrared probe; nei­ther of which I sus­pect is par­tic­u­larly accu­rate. What they would do to one who fails such test­ing is unclear as they did not seem set up for any sort of quar­an­tine. Furthermore, a few tylenol, aspirin and lies ought to be enough to get any­one through. The whole exer­cise reeks of secu­rity the­ater, a topic which I fear rais­ing lest I rant far beyond your patience.

Dreams have flowed like sand down a beach dune

Friday, May 22nd, 2009

Something that I have been acutely notic­ing is that I have had extremely vivid dreams every time that I have slept or napped. The dreams have been vivid to a degree that might be described as bor­der­ing on hul­lu­ci­na­tion. I sus­pect that the dreams have been present on account of the ade­quacy of the sleep that I have been receiv­ing. I am inclined, how­ever, to attribute the vivid­ness to the potency and des­i­ca­tion of the sun and heat. It is, per­haps, as if I had ven­tured into the desert to under­take a vision quest of sorts.

I am enjoy­ing this dream­ing to an extent that strongly sug­gests the adop­tion of a decent sleep regimen.

myStress = 0; myEnlightenment += 1;

Thursday, May 21st, 2009

Today, shortly after spend­ing ten or twenty min­utes fol­low­ing a sea tur­tle and lis­ten­ing to another thirty min­utes of the Heretics of Dune audio­book, I found mirac­u­lously that my per­sonal stress lev­els had reached zero. This stress level turns out, as one might sus­pect, to be wholely pleasant.

I am inclined to sus­pect that this state is not dri­ven purely by the vaca­tion; the Dune books tend to put me in a par­tic­u­lar philosophical/spiritual state. In this case, I blame the com­bi­na­tion; that is, I sus­pect that some trig­ger was pushed whilst I was in a recep­tive state.

There exist other aspects to my cur­rent state, which extend beyond a lack of stress to a calm clar­ity. This clar­ity and calm may well be of greater import to me than the pleas­ant lack of stress. The ques­tion that I find arises for me now is, how can I make myself recep­tive and inten­tion­ally self-trigger; this will, hope­fully, serve as a con­tin­ued avenue of self-inquiry in the future.

Cancun trip thoughts, so far

Thursday, May 21st, 2009

Today is Wednesday of my Sunday through Saturday week in Cancun. It is cur­rently the evening, about 11p and, before I go to sleep in prepa­ra­tion for tomorrow’s activ­i­ties, I thought that I should check-in with y’all. I think that Im going to struc­ture this as a sum­mary of some of what’s been going on and fol­low with some more gen­eral thoughts that have been crystalizing.

It being Cancun, the oblig­a­tory sun bathing, swim­ming and strong, frozen bev­er­ages have been hap­pen­ing but, as that is largely not inter­est­ing in any detail, I’ll leave it at that. I have been stay­ing with friends at the Royal Sands, a time­share resort. This is one of five time­share resorts owned by this com­pany and I have to say, it’s pretty sweet; hon­estly, if my fam­ily didn’t have prop­erty on Cape Cod, I would strongly con­sider sign­ing in to this whole time­share thing. The ameni­ties are nice, the weather is fan­tas­tic and, let me tell you, the water is amaz­ing. Evenings here have pri­mar­ily fin­ished off with games of Dominos, Fluxx and Set,which has been a wholely pleas­ant expe­ri­ence, and makes me want to play more casual games with friends.

This morn­ing, we trav­eled to the Mayan ruins at Chichen Itza, which were truly fan­tas­tic to see. The degree of engi­neer­ing, archi­tec­tural and astro­nom­i­cal knowl­edge expressed by the struc­tures of the ruins is truly impres­sive. I am cer­tain that the expe­ri­ence was greatly enhanced by the qual­ity and char­ac­ter of our tour guide. One of the major things that caught root in my mind as a result of the expe­ri­ence is the imper­ma­nence of every­thing that I am doing with my life. Even a rel­a­tively mod­est Mayan dwelling still exists and expresses some­thing about its inhab­i­tants; what mark have I left on this world that will not be gone two gen­er­a­tions from now? For that mat­ter, what mark am I really leav­ing now?

Certain, deeper things seem to be gain­ing focus for me as well. One that seems truly clear is the degree to which I have missed the Atlantic Ocean and Woods Hole. Hopefully, my plans to work remotely from Woods Hole this sum­mer will suc­ceed and I shall get some sub­stan­tial time there.

Another thing that occurs to me is that I need to spend more time with my good friends and, per­haps, make a few more.

Leg two: ugh, customs

Sunday, May 17th, 2009

Today, for the first time, my travel was slowed down as a result of not check­ing bag­gage. With a two hour shift, it is now 4:00p, and I am eat­ing a so-so ham and cheese with a freely pro­vided Tecate. Having just left Mexico City, I feel as though I almost didn’t make it.

So, I debarked my first flight, passed through immi­gra­tion and pro­ceeded in the direc­tion of “Connecting Flights”. Before reach­ing my gate, I encoun­tered a check­point where I was asked how many bags I had checked. Having checked no bags, with the intent of expe­dit­ing my jour­ney, I said as much and was told to go back through immi­gra­tion and go to cus­toms. Passing immi­gra­tion again, I was told to con­tinue as I had the first time. Please real­ize that my inabil­ity to speak or under­stand Spanish was not to my advan­tage. Returning to the check­point, again, run­ning out of time to catch my flight, I was turned back once more. This time, ask­ing for very pre­cise instruc­tions from the quite com­pe­tent English speak­ing head of the check­point. It turns out, what I had to do was go through immi­gra­tion, again, ignore “Connecting Flights”, and pass through cus­toms as though Mexico City were my des­ti­na­tion. It was then nec­es­sary to turn around, pass through a dif­fer­ent entrance and find my gate as a domes­tic flight. With about twenty min­utes before depar­ture, I was very pleased to catch my flight.

All is now well and that was a mighty tasty Tecate.

Mexicana Air, a positive review

Sunday, May 17th, 2009

As I write, I am sit­ting in seat 20E on a Mexicana Airbus A318 en route from San Francisco to Mexico City. It is 9:30a; I am writ­ing on my Nokia N810 (a device, which I will have to tell you of some other time); I have just con­sumed a wholely decent omelette; and, I it is my inten­tion to pub­lish this as soon as I next encounter Internet access. The omelette has arrested my atten­tion and is what prompted this post.

Though the omelette fell some­where between edi­ble and pass­able, this really is more of a “thought that counts” sort of thing. I have become so accus­tomed to the nickel-and-dimeing of bank­rupt United States air­lines that I was aston­ished to be offered food: “omelette or enchi­lada?” It took me two tries to under­stand through the Mexican accent, but that’s prob­a­bly a fail­ing on my part. Not only is there food but there appears to be free beer, though, it being 9:30a, I opted for milk.

Based on my expe­ri­ence thus far, I’m lik­ing Mexicana and feel­ing rem­i­nis­cent of British Airways. If you’re read­ing this, as is, noth­ing has inter­fered with my opin­ion suf­fi­ciently to jus­tify revision.