This is the unsolicited perspective of an outsider looking in. I will accept your views on the matters but I am not necessarily able or willing to discuss all of them.
One thing that strikes me as rather peculiar to the US is the extensive use of credit cards. Almost every facility in the US accepts credit. People pay for parking with their credit cards, they pay for metro card top-ups, train tickets, small item dispensers, shopping... Just about anything can be paid for by credit cards.
It is a pretty worrying trend, if you ask me. Few people are good at keeping their finances in shipshape. Most people tend to squander their money away, swiping their cards at their purchases thinking that they are able to well-afford the service or the item when they don't.
I paid for most of my shopping with cash this time around. I reckon there was no point keeping dollars any raking up a card bill. So what if there were frequent flyer points given for the expenses? With the economy that bad, the airline is cutting back on capacity. What happens then is that you've got the points but they hell have no free seats.
The worst of the financial storm seems to have passed. But my US friends and I share the common perception that the current fiasco was resolved in a way that it felt more like a blimp in the larger scheme of things - giving the impression that this was a one-off anomaly - than a deep puddle of shit, which requires new sanitation lines and facilities to handle.
We agreed that the rut should be allowed to last a year or two, let the market really and truly correct itself, let the perpetrators go off with punishment bruises to remind them to behave, and let the people have time to reflect on their own actions.
Just last night, when the ad nauseum airing of the first series episodes of Boston Legal ended on hotel TV, paid commercials came on. Among them was for a real estate auction for housing properties in the northeastern regions. Man, I could afford those houses if the other buyers do not bid me out of my range. And they look like pretty nice houses too. Even better, the auction company is helping buyers pre-qualify for bank loans. Er...
Immediately today, I saw a news claiming that the housing market seems to have turned a corner because prices have fallen far enough.This is a self-fulfilling prophesy game that some powers that be are playing. And if people fall for the housing trap again...
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Temptations
New York City seems recession-proof. Macy's NYC has hardly anything on sale, unlike the other Macy's in Chicago and in Washington DC. And the NYC staff are so high and mighty about us tourists. Elsewhere, I've got sales associates coming up to ask me if I needed help with my shopping, over in NYC, they simply pretend you do not exist. I guess this is the beauty of it all - big city, big crowds, no attention.
I picked up about 3 items in Macy's yesterday and as I walked, I junked one, put back another and left a Timberland shirt on the CK counter. I then made my way down to the household department for some shopping.
Martha Stewart has a grand collection in turquoise (whoever knows and can describe the colour better than me, please correct me; I'm only good at colours of chemical ions). The prices turn me turqoise. I also found the kitchen rasp that many a cook on Asian Food Channel (e.g. Anna Orson, Robert Rainford) use but the rasps are the wrong size and the wrong price. Should have picked up the rasps when I first went grocery shopping with my "brother" in New Jersey.
And if you think about the lack of discounts - DC Macy's extended their additional 25% discount to me in the men's department, allowing me to buy $28 shirts at 50% plus 50% plus additional 25% off. I only paid $5.25 for each shirt. Furthermore, if you visit the US and shop, here's some info: State tax for Chicago is 10.25%, Washington DC is 5.25% and New York is 8.375%. That means, after your spoils are tallied up, the tax is slapped on the total. Before you know it...
I was saying, I would have cleaned out Macy's DC if I had bought a larger luggage bag by then. Trust me, I would have filled it up with lots of shopping items. Alas, I didn't have a bag yet and lugging another full bag isn't something that my shoulders might be able to take, I suppose.
I digress but my main point was that I left Macy's NYC empty handed. It is a first in US shopping history that I left a clothing store without a single item!
Earlier in the day, I was at Century 21 - New York's best kept secret - at WTC. It was like going to shopping mecca for another pilgrimage. I was early; I arrived at 9.15 am and the temperature was showing a nice 77 F. This is the earliest I have set off for the entire trip, actually.
There was a very thin crowd in C21 initially and so I thought I'll find a luggage bag before I did my clothing shopping. When I got my bag about an hour later - man, choosing a luggage bag is such a bitch - I went up to men's and was rudely welcomed by a thronging crowd of men in varying levels of dressedness, women pushing men around to get their hands on men's clothes and children running around. OMG.
It was a mad mad world out there and I began picking up what I wanted. I tried to get a cashier to hold my luggage while I shopped but he refused, saying that he had no space. This was not what happened the last time I visited. Oh well. What the *beep*.
I started browsing and if one looks hard enough, like in Chicago, one can find pretty good items at incredible prices. I typically don't like shopping unless it is for grocery but if I don't put in the effort to shop here, then I absolutely can't find anything in Singapore that does not cost an arm and a-leg-and-a-half. So I patiently trudged through the store, combing it many times...
Hey! I found a USD11.99 Tommy Hilfiger chinois slacks in Navy. It costs nearly USD70 more if not on sale. How can one not grab it, even if there is no fitting room? I pulled the waist around my neck and there is some slack. I think it'll fit. USD11.99 won't be enough to pay for the cloth even!
I piled on more men's underwear and then made the fundamental mistake of a male shopper. I did not buy a few items I liked because I thought Macy's had them on sale. And Macy's didn't. At least not when I was there.
So, I sit here wondering if I should make another trip down to C21 to pick them up, since it's only 9 am now and my check out is not till 3 hours later. A trip to C21 will at most take an hour and a half, assuming I instil military discipline on myself. Oh, forget it. I should just sit here and chill. I don't even know if I would wear them pyjamas pants if I bought them.
Another item that was really exciting to have is the single shot expresso machine. It's going at US90 at Macy's but then a new problem cropped up. You see, the US has a 2 pieces of luggage rule. Each piece can weigh up to 50 lb (or 23 kg)and I have two pieces. The expresso machine does not weigh much but it certainly is bulky. It is not likely to make it into my bag, and I do not want to risk paying USD125 for excess baggage. People will suggest that I unpack the entire machine... yeah right. It's a one piece thingy that is spring loaded and all. The last thing I want is to bring back something damaged.
Shopping here is fun and there are temptations galore. Many Americans probably do not know how good their lives have been. Yet, there are times when regardless of the temptations, a rational shopper will never be tempted. And I for once managed to be that rational shopper.
I picked up about 3 items in Macy's yesterday and as I walked, I junked one, put back another and left a Timberland shirt on the CK counter. I then made my way down to the household department for some shopping.
Martha Stewart has a grand collection in turquoise (whoever knows and can describe the colour better than me, please correct me; I'm only good at colours of chemical ions). The prices turn me turqoise. I also found the kitchen rasp that many a cook on Asian Food Channel (e.g. Anna Orson, Robert Rainford) use but the rasps are the wrong size and the wrong price. Should have picked up the rasps when I first went grocery shopping with my "brother" in New Jersey.
And if you think about the lack of discounts - DC Macy's extended their additional 25% discount to me in the men's department, allowing me to buy $28 shirts at 50% plus 50% plus additional 25% off. I only paid $5.25 for each shirt. Furthermore, if you visit the US and shop, here's some info: State tax for Chicago is 10.25%, Washington DC is 5.25% and New York is 8.375%. That means, after your spoils are tallied up, the tax is slapped on the total. Before you know it...
I was saying, I would have cleaned out Macy's DC if I had bought a larger luggage bag by then. Trust me, I would have filled it up with lots of shopping items. Alas, I didn't have a bag yet and lugging another full bag isn't something that my shoulders might be able to take, I suppose.
I digress but my main point was that I left Macy's NYC empty handed. It is a first in US shopping history that I left a clothing store without a single item!
Earlier in the day, I was at Century 21 - New York's best kept secret - at WTC. It was like going to shopping mecca for another pilgrimage. I was early; I arrived at 9.15 am and the temperature was showing a nice 77 F. This is the earliest I have set off for the entire trip, actually.
There was a very thin crowd in C21 initially and so I thought I'll find a luggage bag before I did my clothing shopping. When I got my bag about an hour later - man, choosing a luggage bag is such a bitch - I went up to men's and was rudely welcomed by a thronging crowd of men in varying levels of dressedness, women pushing men around to get their hands on men's clothes and children running around. OMG.
It was a mad mad world out there and I began picking up what I wanted. I tried to get a cashier to hold my luggage while I shopped but he refused, saying that he had no space. This was not what happened the last time I visited. Oh well. What the *beep*.
I started browsing and if one looks hard enough, like in Chicago, one can find pretty good items at incredible prices. I typically don't like shopping unless it is for grocery but if I don't put in the effort to shop here, then I absolutely can't find anything in Singapore that does not cost an arm and a-leg-and-a-half. So I patiently trudged through the store, combing it many times...
Hey! I found a USD11.99 Tommy Hilfiger chinois slacks in Navy. It costs nearly USD70 more if not on sale. How can one not grab it, even if there is no fitting room? I pulled the waist around my neck and there is some slack. I think it'll fit. USD11.99 won't be enough to pay for the cloth even!
I piled on more men's underwear and then made the fundamental mistake of a male shopper. I did not buy a few items I liked because I thought Macy's had them on sale. And Macy's didn't. At least not when I was there.
So, I sit here wondering if I should make another trip down to C21 to pick them up, since it's only 9 am now and my check out is not till 3 hours later. A trip to C21 will at most take an hour and a half, assuming I instil military discipline on myself. Oh, forget it. I should just sit here and chill. I don't even know if I would wear them pyjamas pants if I bought them.
Another item that was really exciting to have is the single shot expresso machine. It's going at US90 at Macy's but then a new problem cropped up. You see, the US has a 2 pieces of luggage rule. Each piece can weigh up to 50 lb (or 23 kg)and I have two pieces. The expresso machine does not weigh much but it certainly is bulky. It is not likely to make it into my bag, and I do not want to risk paying USD125 for excess baggage. People will suggest that I unpack the entire machine... yeah right. It's a one piece thingy that is spring loaded and all. The last thing I want is to bring back something damaged.
Shopping here is fun and there are temptations galore. Many Americans probably do not know how good their lives have been. Yet, there are times when regardless of the temptations, a rational shopper will never be tempted. And I for once managed to be that rational shopper.
Tardy Updates
I know there are still many entries missing and I do intend to make up for them in time to come.
But today's quick update is this: Last week, I thought the US trip will never end. Today, I wish it will never end. Argh!
But today's quick update is this: Last week, I thought the US trip will never end. Today, I wish it will never end. Argh!
Monday, July 27, 2009
Chicago Contradictions 2 of 8
2. New but old; old but new
Like many cities in a perpetual state of renewal and transition, Chicago is also a mishmash of old and new. The thing about it is the new is not new and the old is not old. For instance, some train stations are being refurbished and parts of it look new whereas other parts of the same station look really old. The train tracks are mainly supported by metal I-bars and the trains run on metal tracks mostly laid on wood. Again, depending on where you are, old and new is quite telling.
In an earlier blogpost, I complained that the airport needed a freshening up. Surprisingly, as I leave for DC today, I noticed that the departure area was pretty, new and modern. Again, a contradiction within the same building. Downtown buildings are another study of contrast, though this observation would be rather moot.
One thing about older, refurbished hotel rooms is the fact that while the place can look new, unless something thorough is done, certain things like smells cannot be removed. My hotel room toilet smells of a “old sweaty ah pek.” It is quite sad that things look new but are so old.
Like many cities in a perpetual state of renewal and transition, Chicago is also a mishmash of old and new. The thing about it is the new is not new and the old is not old. For instance, some train stations are being refurbished and parts of it look new whereas other parts of the same station look really old. The train tracks are mainly supported by metal I-bars and the trains run on metal tracks mostly laid on wood. Again, depending on where you are, old and new is quite telling.
In an earlier blogpost, I complained that the airport needed a freshening up. Surprisingly, as I leave for DC today, I noticed that the departure area was pretty, new and modern. Again, a contradiction within the same building. Downtown buildings are another study of contrast, though this observation would be rather moot.
One thing about older, refurbished hotel rooms is the fact that while the place can look new, unless something thorough is done, certain things like smells cannot be removed. My hotel room toilet smells of a “old sweaty ah pek.” It is quite sad that things look new but are so old.
Chicago Contradictions 1 of 8
The clock on the huge direction panel in the Chicago O’Hare Airport reads 6:42. I am way too early for my 9:05 flight to Washington DC. Still, being stuck in the airport to wait a little of your life away sure beats sweating in the shuttle and cursing as the darned van you are in simply cannot move in the lattice structure called a gridlock, except in Brownian motion speeds. Being stuck like is would be considered a “happy problem”, as an ex-boss would call it. Contradictory? Yeah, but that has how my experience in Chicago has been.
1. Enabled but not enabling
Chicago has a well thought out, rather comprehensive transport network. The city and its surrounding areas are served by the Metro, the Metra (I suspect it was named as a pun because it supplements the Metro to the more outlying areas), buses and taxis. Car hire, both chauffeured and self-drive, are available.
One thing in particular caught my eye about the Metro stations. Like with many major US cities, their main city airport(s) and train stations are Metro-enabled. The Metro or its equivalent in that city serves the airport and the Amtrak station. In this regard, one would expect the transport planners to cater to travellers who have large bags. But no! Many stations do not have either elevators or escalators. In fact, when I collected a train ticket from the Chicago Union Station, the nearest metro station, Quinsy/Wells, did not have any! I saw poor passengers lugging their bags and trying to get down from the platform to street level on the treacherously narrow steps.
Another key feature of the Chicago Transit Authority Metro system is the need for extensive transfers. The purple line, which I use, only loops in the downtown during peak hours. All other times, one has to transfer to a red line and then to any other line, depending on where they need to go. A direct journey is pretty unheard of. And for a tourist like me, constant map reading is necessary to figure out at which station I should be alighting.
Another joke is the advertising pamphlets that major shops along Michigan Avenue, aka the Magnificent Mile, give out tourists. Unfortunately, attractive as some of the bargains might be, the maps are bereft of any supplementary transport information such as metre stations to help tourists get there. In the Singapore way of asking, how to get business liddat?
I had already known that Chicago was going to be “Bus 11” intensive. Bootedharleydude told me as such. But little did I expect that Chicago would also be a city suitable for aspiring mountain climbers. After you walk up and down umpteenth flights of stairs, you’ll understand what I mean.
This city that worked hard to enable convenient transport options must now look to enabling effective transport means. And that would pave the way to their 2016 Olympic bid.
1. Enabled but not enabling
Chicago has a well thought out, rather comprehensive transport network. The city and its surrounding areas are served by the Metro, the Metra (I suspect it was named as a pun because it supplements the Metro to the more outlying areas), buses and taxis. Car hire, both chauffeured and self-drive, are available.
One thing in particular caught my eye about the Metro stations. Like with many major US cities, their main city airport(s) and train stations are Metro-enabled. The Metro or its equivalent in that city serves the airport and the Amtrak station. In this regard, one would expect the transport planners to cater to travellers who have large bags. But no! Many stations do not have either elevators or escalators. In fact, when I collected a train ticket from the Chicago Union Station, the nearest metro station, Quinsy/Wells, did not have any! I saw poor passengers lugging their bags and trying to get down from the platform to street level on the treacherously narrow steps.
Another key feature of the Chicago Transit Authority Metro system is the need for extensive transfers. The purple line, which I use, only loops in the downtown during peak hours. All other times, one has to transfer to a red line and then to any other line, depending on where they need to go. A direct journey is pretty unheard of. And for a tourist like me, constant map reading is necessary to figure out at which station I should be alighting.
Another joke is the advertising pamphlets that major shops along Michigan Avenue, aka the Magnificent Mile, give out tourists. Unfortunately, attractive as some of the bargains might be, the maps are bereft of any supplementary transport information such as metre stations to help tourists get there. In the Singapore way of asking, how to get business liddat?
I had already known that Chicago was going to be “Bus 11” intensive. Bootedharleydude told me as such. But little did I expect that Chicago would also be a city suitable for aspiring mountain climbers. After you walk up and down umpteenth flights of stairs, you’ll understand what I mean.
This city that worked hard to enable convenient transport options must now look to enabling effective transport means. And that would pave the way to their 2016 Olympic bid.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
I give up!
I finally succumbed to my spoilt, bureaucratic ways yesterday.
After lugging my bags and taking public transport faithfully from the start of the journey to the end of my Philadephia leg, my bags probably travelled on more pavements and tarred roads than they had on all their trips past added together.
I hear them whine as their rubber-bare wheels are tortured by the gravel and the uneven roads. I see them shed whatever they have left of their rubber protection as they attempt to navigate the relative potholes that I didn't pay enough attention to. The poor baggies are faithful travel companions. They moan and groan and attract a helluva lot of attention in the hotel lobbies when I arrive - you could hear the wheels roar at the top of their voices to announce my arrival. But they have never complained.
I feel my arms aching and my left shoulder is in pain whenever I take on the weight of my carry on bags. I didn't pack a lot. A usual official work trip during my past civil servant days would see me lug around the same amounts of stuff - at least - but with a difference. On official duty, you can book private transport to ferry you from point to point. On your way in to the country, you only need to drag your luggage as much as from inside the airport at the baggage claim area to outside the airport to the waiting transport, from outside to inside the hotel check in desk, and then to your room. Reverse the baggie movemenets on your way out of the countries. And in between hotel, skip anything involving the airport.
It is not that I miss my good ol' civil servant days but, at PHL, I decided that I cannot survive another round of dragging bags from baggage claim to the Chicago Transit Authority (CTA) metro station and then change 4 trains to get to Davis, Evanston, and then drag the bags and walk a couple of blocks to get to the hotel. The hotel is only 15 miles from the hotel but the CTA tracks require me to go downtown first and then change trains to move north, taking about 22 or 27 miles in all. Crazy...
At that moment, I decided that paying USD50 for cab fare each way may not be that bad a proposition after all. But is there something more worthwhile?
As luck would have it, GO! Airport Express at ORD provided the answer. I managed to get a return booking for USD57. As I waited in line, I actually see local Chicago folks queueing for the same service, instead of taking the trains or the cabs, despite not having much to carry. I think I must be doing something right.
My transport arrived 15 minutes after I booked it. My American-Jordanian driver and I chatted when the traffic was not that heavy. My bags are comfotably seated in the boot of the vehicle and gently let off at the door of the hotel. The trip is 35 minutes (despite the traffic jam - Chicago is ramping up its infrastructure for its 2016 Olympics bid) - and 15 miles. Although the CTA would have cost USD2.25 each way, I face the prospect of a 90 to 118 minute trip (depending on how (un)lucky you are with the train schedules) and the need to make 3 transfers between lines.
Honestly, costly as it might have been, I have never found a more justifiable way of blowing away money than taking the transfer.
After lugging my bags and taking public transport faithfully from the start of the journey to the end of my Philadephia leg, my bags probably travelled on more pavements and tarred roads than they had on all their trips past added together.
I hear them whine as their rubber-bare wheels are tortured by the gravel and the uneven roads. I see them shed whatever they have left of their rubber protection as they attempt to navigate the relative potholes that I didn't pay enough attention to. The poor baggies are faithful travel companions. They moan and groan and attract a helluva lot of attention in the hotel lobbies when I arrive - you could hear the wheels roar at the top of their voices to announce my arrival. But they have never complained.
I feel my arms aching and my left shoulder is in pain whenever I take on the weight of my carry on bags. I didn't pack a lot. A usual official work trip during my past civil servant days would see me lug around the same amounts of stuff - at least - but with a difference. On official duty, you can book private transport to ferry you from point to point. On your way in to the country, you only need to drag your luggage as much as from inside the airport at the baggage claim area to outside the airport to the waiting transport, from outside to inside the hotel check in desk, and then to your room. Reverse the baggie movemenets on your way out of the countries. And in between hotel, skip anything involving the airport.
It is not that I miss my good ol' civil servant days but, at PHL, I decided that I cannot survive another round of dragging bags from baggage claim to the Chicago Transit Authority (CTA) metro station and then change 4 trains to get to Davis, Evanston, and then drag the bags and walk a couple of blocks to get to the hotel. The hotel is only 15 miles from the hotel but the CTA tracks require me to go downtown first and then change trains to move north, taking about 22 or 27 miles in all. Crazy...
At that moment, I decided that paying USD50 for cab fare each way may not be that bad a proposition after all. But is there something more worthwhile?
As luck would have it, GO! Airport Express at ORD provided the answer. I managed to get a return booking for USD57. As I waited in line, I actually see local Chicago folks queueing for the same service, instead of taking the trains or the cabs, despite not having much to carry. I think I must be doing something right.
My transport arrived 15 minutes after I booked it. My American-Jordanian driver and I chatted when the traffic was not that heavy. My bags are comfotably seated in the boot of the vehicle and gently let off at the door of the hotel. The trip is 35 minutes (despite the traffic jam - Chicago is ramping up its infrastructure for its 2016 Olympics bid) - and 15 miles. Although the CTA would have cost USD2.25 each way, I face the prospect of a 90 to 118 minute trip (depending on how (un)lucky you are with the train schedules) and the need to make 3 transfers between lines.
Honestly, costly as it might have been, I have never found a more justifiable way of blowing away money than taking the transfer.
City Hopping - Snap shots
I.
Philadelphia International Airport (PHL) looks amazingly fresh despite its age. The internal refurbishment work is really well done. The airport is bright and welcoming. I think Singaporeans should really learn from people around the world when they rethink comfort and modernisation. The Singapore Airport folks are doing the same by constantly refurbishing and upgrading its interior, while keeping the external walls and facade largely unscathed. However, while the Americans and the Europeans tear down the insides of buildings and give them new leases of life, Singaporeans tend to demolish the entire building and rebuild something new in its place. I am not saying that either way is superior but evaulate the merits of these cases. Resources are finite and if you don't have to destroy a building with architectural value, then why do it?
My only gripe is with security. Perhaps it is now time to come clean and admit to the people that liquid explosives are not exactly potent enough to bring down a plane. I mean, if we want to be purist about things, then why am I disallowed to bring water in but allowed to buy bottles of mineral water in the secure area?
II.
The UA flight to Chicago arrived 30 minutes late in Philadelphia today. After the passengers were deplaned, Chicago-bound passengers, including me, boarded. As we got on, we were repeatedly told to stow our cabin bags under the seat in front of us if they fit. The overhead compartments are for people with roller bags which take up too much space.
We were reminded that if we do not cooperate, leftover bags that cannot be fit in the overhead compartments will need to be checked in and the flight would be further delayed. Some passengers cursed UA, for it is its charging of check baggage that forced passengers to attempt to carry on everything. So there was a perpetual ding-dong about where the bags should go. I checked in two bags but I was lucky - Frequent Flyers with Silver (or Gold) membership need not pay.
I just feel that such "cost recovery" or "cost limiting/cutting" measures are limited in their effectiveness. But till someone with the power to change things has the foresight to know what's the problem and have the guts to change the policy, nothing positive can be expected from anyone.
III.
The United Airlines Flight arrived 30 minutes late today and took off at 1314 h instead of the scheduled 1238 h. Once in the air, the pilot went at maximum speed. The last time I was in a speeding aircraft travelling at such speeds that the cabin was filled entirely with the roar of the engine was on an Yichang - Chengdu flight in China. I guess it is only in domestic sectors that pilots can pull off such a stunt. There is probably the only air craft in the air at that moment on such a route at such a flight level. Any other traffic would probably only come in as the flight nears the destination airport.
It was pretty interesting to hear the pilot go, "Ladies and gentlemen, this is the pilot speaking. I've turned off the seat belt signs but I would urge you to keep them on as we are going as fast as we can to make up the lost time. We expect to arrive at 1.55 pm, meaning there is no delay on the flight. Connections will be fine." We finally made it to the gate at 1404h. To chop 30 minutes off a scheduled 2:17 flight means...
IV.
Chicago O'Hare Airport (ORD) is HUGE. Ginormous - a rather American portmanteau that is ugly to the core, at least in my opinion. Still, it could possibly describe ORD. It seems larger than PHL but it is also very much more run-down. I guess it cannot be helped. ORD and PHL are two of the world's busiest airports in terms of number of flight and passengers handled. But I believe users would want to see a refreshed ORD soon. After all, airport upgrading is the in-thing at this moment and such infrastructural work can help create jobs, direct governmental spending to more worthwhile causes and improve surroundings...
Philadelphia International Airport (PHL) looks amazingly fresh despite its age. The internal refurbishment work is really well done. The airport is bright and welcoming. I think Singaporeans should really learn from people around the world when they rethink comfort and modernisation. The Singapore Airport folks are doing the same by constantly refurbishing and upgrading its interior, while keeping the external walls and facade largely unscathed. However, while the Americans and the Europeans tear down the insides of buildings and give them new leases of life, Singaporeans tend to demolish the entire building and rebuild something new in its place. I am not saying that either way is superior but evaulate the merits of these cases. Resources are finite and if you don't have to destroy a building with architectural value, then why do it?
My only gripe is with security. Perhaps it is now time to come clean and admit to the people that liquid explosives are not exactly potent enough to bring down a plane. I mean, if we want to be purist about things, then why am I disallowed to bring water in but allowed to buy bottles of mineral water in the secure area?
II.
The UA flight to Chicago arrived 30 minutes late in Philadelphia today. After the passengers were deplaned, Chicago-bound passengers, including me, boarded. As we got on, we were repeatedly told to stow our cabin bags under the seat in front of us if they fit. The overhead compartments are for people with roller bags which take up too much space.
We were reminded that if we do not cooperate, leftover bags that cannot be fit in the overhead compartments will need to be checked in and the flight would be further delayed. Some passengers cursed UA, for it is its charging of check baggage that forced passengers to attempt to carry on everything. So there was a perpetual ding-dong about where the bags should go. I checked in two bags but I was lucky - Frequent Flyers with Silver (or Gold) membership need not pay.
I just feel that such "cost recovery" or "cost limiting/cutting" measures are limited in their effectiveness. But till someone with the power to change things has the foresight to know what's the problem and have the guts to change the policy, nothing positive can be expected from anyone.
III.
The United Airlines Flight arrived 30 minutes late today and took off at 1314 h instead of the scheduled 1238 h. Once in the air, the pilot went at maximum speed. The last time I was in a speeding aircraft travelling at such speeds that the cabin was filled entirely with the roar of the engine was on an Yichang - Chengdu flight in China. I guess it is only in domestic sectors that pilots can pull off such a stunt. There is probably the only air craft in the air at that moment on such a route at such a flight level. Any other traffic would probably only come in as the flight nears the destination airport.
It was pretty interesting to hear the pilot go, "Ladies and gentlemen, this is the pilot speaking. I've turned off the seat belt signs but I would urge you to keep them on as we are going as fast as we can to make up the lost time. We expect to arrive at 1.55 pm, meaning there is no delay on the flight. Connections will be fine." We finally made it to the gate at 1404h. To chop 30 minutes off a scheduled 2:17 flight means...
IV.
Chicago O'Hare Airport (ORD) is HUGE. Ginormous - a rather American portmanteau that is ugly to the core, at least in my opinion. Still, it could possibly describe ORD. It seems larger than PHL but it is also very much more run-down. I guess it cannot be helped. ORD and PHL are two of the world's busiest airports in terms of number of flight and passengers handled. But I believe users would want to see a refreshed ORD soon. After all, airport upgrading is the in-thing at this moment and such infrastructural work can help create jobs, direct governmental spending to more worthwhile causes and improve surroundings...
Bagel on Fire
The Microtel at the Philadelphia Airport offers breakfast for its guests and so this morning, I didn't have to buy breakfast before hand. Furthermore, taking the 12.38 pm flight out of Philadelphia to O'Hare meant I could sleep in a little. Throw in the free airport shuttle offered by the hotel and one has the makings of a great day ahead.
So, breakfast it is. To cut the long story short, after I took my cup of coffee and cranberry and orange juice, I picked up a bagel and toasted it. I was supposed to cut the bagel in half but the bagel seemed to be partially cut into two already. I could not separate the top half from the bottom half and so I dumped the entire bread into the toaster. You know, the kind that has a belt to bring in the bread to be toasted and then dumps it on a tray after that.
My bagel got caught on its way in and I smelt something burning. As I peered into the toaster, I see my poor bagel caught at the opening of the toaster - there was not enough headroom for Mr Bagel to pass through and he is on fire.
I took the tongs and dug out whatever I could from the toaster before the fire alarm is activated.
Such an exciting start to a morning.
So, breakfast it is. To cut the long story short, after I took my cup of coffee and cranberry and orange juice, I picked up a bagel and toasted it. I was supposed to cut the bagel in half but the bagel seemed to be partially cut into two already. I could not separate the top half from the bottom half and so I dumped the entire bread into the toaster. You know, the kind that has a belt to bring in the bread to be toasted and then dumps it on a tray after that.
My bagel got caught on its way in and I smelt something burning. As I peered into the toaster, I see my poor bagel caught at the opening of the toaster - there was not enough headroom for Mr Bagel to pass through and he is on fire.
I took the tongs and dug out whatever I could from the toaster before the fire alarm is activated.
Such an exciting start to a morning.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Memoirs of a Jetlagged-sha 4
Of course, by the time I got to part 3 of my memoirs, a blue-blooded American had to tell me to quit my "bitchin'". Ha ha ha... I knew this was going to happen and will I ever quit bitching? Only time will tell. One thing I know, I am now not as jetlagged as I was; I am amazed that I recovered this quickly. I bet the injured shoulder does contribute to that (more endorphines?) but I am now more concerned about my impending check out in about 40 minutes and my arduous journey to the next hotel. One can't stay at the Sheraton at almost USD 200 per night unless one had to; the next hotel is less than USD 100 per night. As reluctant as I am to reduce myself to the next place, I need to. USD 100 pays for many meals. Thus, this final part of the memoirs.
One cannot help but be very awed by the John F Kennedy Airport in New York. It is amazingly huge and there are many pieces of artwork adorning its walls. I am not artsy enough to know if they can be considered impressive but it goes give me a feeling that the place I am about to visit welcomes people from all lands and is tolerant of diversity. And before long, one enters the border control area where queues form rapidly and snake around the barriers.
I hate the wait. There is something about the US border control folks that I should... not bitch about this time. Amazingly, for all the grief that the guy manning the counter had given to all the visitors before me, checking them till heavens come, he cleared me in record time.
It was as though he had been expecting me and after a couple of questions - what is your purpose for visiting and how long will you be here - he fingerprinted me like a con, took my mugshot and cleared me. All with so much friendliness I thought I would faint. I was so happy that I promptly went to the wrong baggage claim carousel and begin wondering why there were so few Germans among the passengers waiting for their luggage. Before long, I realised my mistake and went to the correct belt. My bags arrived in less than 5 minutes. (Of course, when you wait for almost 45 minutes at border control...)
I grabbed my bags and was waved through the customs folks even though I declared I had meat products (pork jerky for my NJ friends). Compared to Newark, JFK was really a breeze to go through. Everything was bigger and brighter. People were friendlier and the atmosphere was more welcoming.
Yesterday, the US revealed a new, friendlier face to a traveller. And to this terribly tired and irate traveller who has another leg of rail travel to complete, it was very much appreciated.
One cannot help but be very awed by the John F Kennedy Airport in New York. It is amazingly huge and there are many pieces of artwork adorning its walls. I am not artsy enough to know if they can be considered impressive but it goes give me a feeling that the place I am about to visit welcomes people from all lands and is tolerant of diversity. And before long, one enters the border control area where queues form rapidly and snake around the barriers.
I hate the wait. There is something about the US border control folks that I should... not bitch about this time. Amazingly, for all the grief that the guy manning the counter had given to all the visitors before me, checking them till heavens come, he cleared me in record time.
It was as though he had been expecting me and after a couple of questions - what is your purpose for visiting and how long will you be here - he fingerprinted me like a con, took my mugshot and cleared me. All with so much friendliness I thought I would faint. I was so happy that I promptly went to the wrong baggage claim carousel and begin wondering why there were so few Germans among the passengers waiting for their luggage. Before long, I realised my mistake and went to the correct belt. My bags arrived in less than 5 minutes. (Of course, when you wait for almost 45 minutes at border control...)
I grabbed my bags and was waved through the customs folks even though I declared I had meat products (pork jerky for my NJ friends). Compared to Newark, JFK was really a breeze to go through. Everything was bigger and brighter. People were friendlier and the atmosphere was more welcoming.
Yesterday, the US revealed a new, friendlier face to a traveller. And to this terribly tired and irate traveller who has another leg of rail travel to complete, it was very much appreciated.
Memoirs of a Jetlagged-sha 3
Familiar sights greeted me the minute I stepped out of the LIRR into the Penn Station in New York City. Incredible. I was 26 hours into my odessey at that time.
I had to drag my luggage and navigate through the madding crowds to get to the booking counters. Alas, they were very crowded. I could book a ticket on one of those self-service machines but... is Philadelphia Station the same as the Philadelphia 30th Street Station? You see, there are many things in the US that do not make sense. Multiple naming of the same thing is one of them.
I could either queue up for a ticket and risk missing 665 Keystone at 1.17 pm and instead take 667 Keystone an hour later, or I could take a chance. So I decided to take a chance. I booked the ticket and went to buy lunch. And why does it cost USD20 more to book the tickets on the spot,one wonders.
Lunch... the familiar shops and the familiar produce in the familiar sizes. How I love coming to the US. So I picked up a cranberry muffin for lunch. I always loved berries and between a blueberry scone and a cranberry muffin both going for the same price, let's say I prefer the moister cake. It was a huge sized muffin, which I just finished eathing the second half as I was writing the last blog entry.
Once I scored lunch, the train was in station. It was hell all the way. I had to lug my 2 bags down a flight of stairs, and while it was fortunate that there is an elevator (or lift, as the British calls it) to bring me down to trackside. However, the safety bumps on the already narrow platforms made dragging the luggage an awful chore. But the worst is yet to be.
How Ameicans can name trolley lines by direction (East/West) when there is even no reference direction to begin with puzzles me. Imagine arriving at Philly Station and then have absolutely no inkling that the trolley (aka subway) is actually not part of the larger train station. Pity the poor traveller who don't know that. And worse, after you get into the paid area, you ask yourself - 36th Street East or West? And when you try to ask someone... Hello, anyone?
And horrors of the worst kind happened in 36th Street Station. The station does not even have a lift from platform to road level. My left shoulder is most likely sprained, if lightly, and I'm in some pain. Of course, I had to get out of the wrong exit and make an additional road crossing.
On a brighter note, I found the meeting place and I'm looking forward to the meeting later.
Time for bed part 2.
I had to drag my luggage and navigate through the madding crowds to get to the booking counters. Alas, they were very crowded. I could book a ticket on one of those self-service machines but... is Philadelphia Station the same as the Philadelphia 30th Street Station? You see, there are many things in the US that do not make sense. Multiple naming of the same thing is one of them.
I could either queue up for a ticket and risk missing 665 Keystone at 1.17 pm and instead take 667 Keystone an hour later, or I could take a chance. So I decided to take a chance. I booked the ticket and went to buy lunch. And why does it cost USD20 more to book the tickets on the spot,one wonders.
Lunch... the familiar shops and the familiar produce in the familiar sizes. How I love coming to the US. So I picked up a cranberry muffin for lunch. I always loved berries and between a blueberry scone and a cranberry muffin both going for the same price, let's say I prefer the moister cake. It was a huge sized muffin, which I just finished eathing the second half as I was writing the last blog entry.
Once I scored lunch, the train was in station. It was hell all the way. I had to lug my 2 bags down a flight of stairs, and while it was fortunate that there is an elevator (or lift, as the British calls it) to bring me down to trackside. However, the safety bumps on the already narrow platforms made dragging the luggage an awful chore. But the worst is yet to be.
How Ameicans can name trolley lines by direction (East/West) when there is even no reference direction to begin with puzzles me. Imagine arriving at Philly Station and then have absolutely no inkling that the trolley (aka subway) is actually not part of the larger train station. Pity the poor traveller who don't know that. And worse, after you get into the paid area, you ask yourself - 36th Street East or West? And when you try to ask someone... Hello, anyone?
And horrors of the worst kind happened in 36th Street Station. The station does not even have a lift from platform to road level. My left shoulder is most likely sprained, if lightly, and I'm in some pain. Of course, I had to get out of the wrong exit and make an additional road crossing.
On a brighter note, I found the meeting place and I'm looking forward to the meeting later.
Time for bed part 2.
Memoirs of a Jetlagged-sha 2
Clearing the Frankfurt Airport security once more was as bad as I imagined. Actually, a little more harrowing than I had expected.
You see, Mr USA grabbed his oversized bags and headed out towards the baggage claim area, giving me hope that he might be gone in Frankfurt after all. But NO! As I queued to re-check in, I saw him turn back and attempt to join the over bloated queue. It was then that I decided to go and get a seat change.
The Frankfurt Gate Hold Room was too small for the passengers of a B744. There were simply insufficient seats and too little personal space. There were meandering corridors which passengers had to navigate through to get to the seats and there was even a mobile deli-magazine-souvenir store inside the room. But there were not enough seats, no privacy, no computers offering free email, no water dispensers offering the parched travellers any free water.
Ok, I should blame Singapore Changi Airport for this. But then if we think about it, Singapore Airlines carry its Europe-bound passengers to the Lufthansa Hub in Frankfurt, where they starburst to their final destinations (pun NOT intended) on LH flights (mostly). Both airlines are Star Alliance members. So, why should there be a difference in the comfort levels for the passengers?
I should also reiterate the low ceilings of FRA, giving most of us a feeling of being boxed in. The perceived pressure is quite incredible.
This time, I was seated in an aisle seat with the adjoining seat empty (phew!) and across the same row of seats was a German granny. In fact, we had two empty seats between us and we were both happy. On my right was a family of 6 - a rather young couple and their 4 kids. If you didn't know, you might guess that the father was an elder brother to the son. But they were very independent and very well behaved. Dad was incredible. He ran the entire process of getting the kids fed, filling out their immigration cards, checking on them and so on with Hitler-like efficiency but with so much care and love. Mum seemed to have a relatively easier time.
The food on this FRA-JFK flight was pretty lopsided. The breads were dropdead gorgeous. Could be the age, could be the palatte, could be... But I've fallen in love in German breads all over again. It's light, yet it packs a pretty weighty load. The lightly crisp crusts and the buttery centres with the silky smooth German butter and strawberry jam. I could eat a dozen buns in the blink of an eye!
Breakfast was either mushroom crepe (oh no, I'm only doing crepes at Out of the Pan at Swissotel Stamford) or pork vermicelli. I had the latter and found there were more bean sprouts than there were vermicelli. Go figure.
The light meal was either Thai Curry Beef or Chicken in paprika sauce. As I don't eat beef, I went for the chicken. Wasn't too bad but thank god for the ice-cream dessert. That Walls Nugger - another German product - blew me away. Looks like it's time to visit Germany for food soon.
I could see the German family enjoyed their food and all. And as fate would have it, we left the plane "together", picked up our luggage "apart", "met" at the toilet and ended up on the same Airtrain. Father and eldest son were unsure if they were on the correct train. I shared my brochure with them and they were finally assured they were. As they reached Federal Circle to pick up the rental car, we wished one another good luck and went our separate ways.
In a while, I reached Jamaica Station and off I went to the LIRR to NYC.
You see, Mr USA grabbed his oversized bags and headed out towards the baggage claim area, giving me hope that he might be gone in Frankfurt after all. But NO! As I queued to re-check in, I saw him turn back and attempt to join the over bloated queue. It was then that I decided to go and get a seat change.
The Frankfurt Gate Hold Room was too small for the passengers of a B744. There were simply insufficient seats and too little personal space. There were meandering corridors which passengers had to navigate through to get to the seats and there was even a mobile deli-magazine-souvenir store inside the room. But there were not enough seats, no privacy, no computers offering free email, no water dispensers offering the parched travellers any free water.
Ok, I should blame Singapore Changi Airport for this. But then if we think about it, Singapore Airlines carry its Europe-bound passengers to the Lufthansa Hub in Frankfurt, where they starburst to their final destinations (pun NOT intended) on LH flights (mostly). Both airlines are Star Alliance members. So, why should there be a difference in the comfort levels for the passengers?
I should also reiterate the low ceilings of FRA, giving most of us a feeling of being boxed in. The perceived pressure is quite incredible.
This time, I was seated in an aisle seat with the adjoining seat empty (phew!) and across the same row of seats was a German granny. In fact, we had two empty seats between us and we were both happy. On my right was a family of 6 - a rather young couple and their 4 kids. If you didn't know, you might guess that the father was an elder brother to the son. But they were very independent and very well behaved. Dad was incredible. He ran the entire process of getting the kids fed, filling out their immigration cards, checking on them and so on with Hitler-like efficiency but with so much care and love. Mum seemed to have a relatively easier time.
The food on this FRA-JFK flight was pretty lopsided. The breads were dropdead gorgeous. Could be the age, could be the palatte, could be... But I've fallen in love in German breads all over again. It's light, yet it packs a pretty weighty load. The lightly crisp crusts and the buttery centres with the silky smooth German butter and strawberry jam. I could eat a dozen buns in the blink of an eye!
Breakfast was either mushroom crepe (oh no, I'm only doing crepes at Out of the Pan at Swissotel Stamford) or pork vermicelli. I had the latter and found there were more bean sprouts than there were vermicelli. Go figure.
The light meal was either Thai Curry Beef or Chicken in paprika sauce. As I don't eat beef, I went for the chicken. Wasn't too bad but thank god for the ice-cream dessert. That Walls Nugger - another German product - blew me away. Looks like it's time to visit Germany for food soon.
I could see the German family enjoyed their food and all. And as fate would have it, we left the plane "together", picked up our luggage "apart", "met" at the toilet and ended up on the same Airtrain. Father and eldest son were unsure if they were on the correct train. I shared my brochure with them and they were finally assured they were. As they reached Federal Circle to pick up the rental car, we wished one another good luck and went our separate ways.
In a while, I reached Jamaica Station and off I went to the LIRR to NYC.
Memoirs of a Jetlagged-sha 1
There is no two ways about it. Jetlagged or not, the first and foremost desire is to bitch. So here goes.
The flight started off really badly. The heavy flight traffic caused the plane to take off nearly an hour late and worse, I was seated beside some idiotic American man in his 50s. Burly and stocky, he insisted on taking over "my" right seat rest despite having two seats to himself in the middle of the centre block of the 747 flight. I could either stick out to my left and be knocked down by people walking down the aisle or food trolleys, or we can compromise and he moves a little to his right and I move to my left to the extent of not putting myself in mortal harm's way. But no, he can't. So we engaged in a tact elbow and shoulder battle throughout the entire flight from Singapore to Frankfurt. Trust me, we even stuck elbows into each other's midsections. And for jerks like him, he brings out the worst of me. I turned in my sleep and let off some air in his direction. He was completely non-receptive of any "kind" he gets. I was nice enough to not do anything beyond the sovereign airspace of the handle but he never knew to respect that. When he plonked himself onto that seat, he closed the overhead compartment! When I opened it, I realised he had two huge bags and on the huger of the two, he hung a PPS tag, suggesting that he is a First Class frequent flyer. But he certainly had no First Class EQ.
When I arrived in Frankfurt, I was pissed enough to complain to the airline representatives on the ground. They swapped me to another seat. And as I walk forward to the lavatory, I see the poor guy assigned the seat I last vacated, leaning out perilously because this f*ck*ng b*st*rd won't share.
... to be continued.
The flight started off really badly. The heavy flight traffic caused the plane to take off nearly an hour late and worse, I was seated beside some idiotic American man in his 50s. Burly and stocky, he insisted on taking over "my" right seat rest despite having two seats to himself in the middle of the centre block of the 747 flight. I could either stick out to my left and be knocked down by people walking down the aisle or food trolleys, or we can compromise and he moves a little to his right and I move to my left to the extent of not putting myself in mortal harm's way. But no, he can't. So we engaged in a tact elbow and shoulder battle throughout the entire flight from Singapore to Frankfurt. Trust me, we even stuck elbows into each other's midsections. And for jerks like him, he brings out the worst of me. I turned in my sleep and let off some air in his direction. He was completely non-receptive of any "kind" he gets. I was nice enough to not do anything beyond the sovereign airspace of the handle but he never knew to respect that. When he plonked himself onto that seat, he closed the overhead compartment! When I opened it, I realised he had two huge bags and on the huger of the two, he hung a PPS tag, suggesting that he is a First Class frequent flyer. But he certainly had no First Class EQ.
When I arrived in Frankfurt, I was pissed enough to complain to the airline representatives on the ground. They swapped me to another seat. And as I walk forward to the lavatory, I see the poor guy assigned the seat I last vacated, leaning out perilously because this f*ck*ng b*st*rd won't share.
... to be continued.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Bull...
The source of fuel for many an organisation.
I think this verbal excerpt is taken from some dialogue from some TV show. And I cannot seem to take it out of my consciousness just yet.
I cannot help but think of this when I look at the promise of the AH1N1 vaccine as a cure or for prophylaxis to deal with the ongoing pandemic.
In view of the vaccine, the WHO Director General should be commended for her even keel in stating her reservation about seeking a cure with scant regard for proven safety.
I now wonder what is the next yarn the Big Pharmas purportedly mass producing these vaccines are going to spin...
I think this verbal excerpt is taken from some dialogue from some TV show. And I cannot seem to take it out of my consciousness just yet.
I cannot help but think of this when I look at the promise of the AH1N1 vaccine as a cure or for prophylaxis to deal with the ongoing pandemic.
In view of the vaccine, the WHO Director General should be commended for her even keel in stating her reservation about seeking a cure with scant regard for proven safety.
I now wonder what is the next yarn the Big Pharmas purportedly mass producing these vaccines are going to spin...
If it sounds too good to be true...
It probably is.
I bet this is what many people who paid up to S$12 000 for a ONE-YEAR Bachelor degree from the ROYAL MELBOURNE INSTITUTE OF TECHNOLOGY found out.
How is that even possible? I also wonder...
How is it possible for near academic morons - sorry, I don't know how else to describe them - achieve a degree from a top Australian university in ONE year when top government scholars take at least 2 years of full loads (including two summer terms at full loads) to complete the same degree at the same university. In fact, most top students attempting to do so at any of these accredited universities need about 2.5 years to complete a degree.
And many of these people paying for the shortcut cannot even write a proper sentence to save their lives.
I bet this is what many people who paid up to S$12 000 for a ONE-YEAR Bachelor degree from the ROYAL MELBOURNE INSTITUTE OF TECHNOLOGY found out.
How is that even possible? I also wonder...
How is it possible for near academic morons - sorry, I don't know how else to describe them - achieve a degree from a top Australian university in ONE year when top government scholars take at least 2 years of full loads (including two summer terms at full loads) to complete the same degree at the same university. In fact, most top students attempting to do so at any of these accredited universities need about 2.5 years to complete a degree.
And many of these people paying for the shortcut cannot even write a proper sentence to save their lives.
Lappy's Home
The laptop was returned yesterday. Fortunately, only the motherboard needed replacement. Everything else, including all the files, was intact. Phew!
But the button '4' dropped out. Looks like it needs to be sent in after I return from the US again.
But the button '4' dropped out. Looks like it needs to be sent in after I return from the US again.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
眼泪成诗 Tears To Poems
I'm going to dedicate this to all those who are recently out of love. I particularly love the first stanza. The opening lines of describing the recovered wounds as roses and the reincarnation of teardrops into raindrops were particularly poetic.
<<眼泪成诗>>
我已经 已经把我伤口化作玫瑰
我的泪水 已经变成雨水早已轮回
我已经 已经把对白留成了永远
忘了天色 究竟是黑是灰
[I have already turned my wounds into roses
My teardrops have already reincarnated into raindrops
I have already turned our conversations into eternity
Forgotten if the skies were black or grey]
*分手伤了谁 谁把他变美
我的眼泪写成了诗已无所谓
让你再回味 字不醉人人自醉
因为回忆总是美*
[*Who was hurt when we parted ways Who made him look noble
My tears have turned into poems for I am past caring
If you remininsce it is not our words but your thoughts making yourself drunk
Because memories are the most beautiful*]
我已经 已经把绝情变成了恭维
因为不配 你就忽然自卑说声失陪
我已经 已经把沉默变成了忏悔
无路可退 只能无言以对
[I have already turned my unfeeling into mutual respect
Because of our unequal status you suddenly feel inferior and said goodbye
I have already turned my taciturn into remorse
With no where to back off I can only face everything with silence]
Repeat **
分手伤了谁 谁把他变美
我的眼泪写成了诗已是无所谓
让你再回味 字不醉人人自醉
你的品味总是美
[Who was hurt when we parted ways Who made him look noble
My tears have turned into poems for I am past caring
If you remininsce it is not our words but your thoughts making yourself drunk
Because your choice had been for the most beautiful]
<<眼泪成诗>>
我已经 已经把我伤口化作玫瑰
我的泪水 已经变成雨水早已轮回
我已经 已经把对白留成了永远
忘了天色 究竟是黑是灰
[I have already turned my wounds into roses
My teardrops have already reincarnated into raindrops
I have already turned our conversations into eternity
Forgotten if the skies were black or grey]
*分手伤了谁 谁把他变美
我的眼泪写成了诗已无所谓
让你再回味 字不醉人人自醉
因为回忆总是美*
[*Who was hurt when we parted ways Who made him look noble
My tears have turned into poems for I am past caring
If you remininsce it is not our words but your thoughts making yourself drunk
Because memories are the most beautiful*]
我已经 已经把绝情变成了恭维
因为不配 你就忽然自卑说声失陪
我已经 已经把沉默变成了忏悔
无路可退 只能无言以对
[I have already turned my unfeeling into mutual respect
Because of our unequal status you suddenly feel inferior and said goodbye
I have already turned my taciturn into remorse
With no where to back off I can only face everything with silence]
Repeat **
分手伤了谁 谁把他变美
我的眼泪写成了诗已是无所谓
让你再回味 字不醉人人自醉
你的品味总是美
[Who was hurt when we parted ways Who made him look noble
My tears have turned into poems for I am past caring
If you remininsce it is not our words but your thoughts making yourself drunk
Because your choice had been for the most beautiful]
On tenterhooks
The brain is almost unreliable these days with words I hardly use. The latent memory store does not maintain its integrity enough. I had to check a dictionary, I turn to online ones these days, to check if my tenterhoooks was spelled correctly. D*mn, I was really that tentative about it. But that shouldn't come as a big surprise to me. My entire being last week and this has been on tenterhooks for more things than one.
(Very soon, I should write an academic essay here and then direct all my students to come over here to take a look at one correct academic writing piece so that they know what is a hook, what is a thesis statement, what is a topic sentence, what are admissible evidence, what are cinchers etc... But that is a day in some future.)
The first salvo was my 4 month old Nokia phone not holding charge. I had to send it down last Tuesday to the Nokia service centre and kick up a fuss there because the counter staff tried to shirk out of their product warranty. He claimed that battery life - even if the user manual stated that it lasts up to 300 hours on standby - can be as short as 48 to 72 hours because of all sorts of factors. Yeah, right. When I got the phone new, the battery held charge up to 240 hours (10 days). Now, it drains itself flat, on standby mode, in 48 hours. What could have happened? All sorts of what factors? What about a spoilt battery? I stood my ground and my phone was finally taken in for repair.
The service centre called to inform me on Friday last. The phone is ready for collection. Fine. Looks good to me. Then my computer crashed. It shut itself down and would not reboot.
Housemate said the hard disk crashed. I was devastated. (I can spell devastated because being Murphy's favourite nephew, this word is more frequently used than tenterhooks. Honestly, there is no need to be on tenterhooks usually; one does not often have impending trips.) I hope that it is not. If it is, all my hard work and trip information would be gone. I need to start writing emails to the people I wish to meet to check the timing all over again.
To make things worse, the scheduled back up hard disk went AWOL and had not been backing up my stuff since May. The laptop was finally sent in to HP that same day at 7 pm and even at HP, I had to raise my voice (just a little) at them. It was the third time in a row that I was told my set was not under warranty. However, the fact that my set was under extended warranty (note to all HP laptop buyers: First critical crash-and-burn will occur within 6 months of the first year warranty's expiry; second within 6 months of the extended warranty's (usually for an additional next 24 months) expiry) was established about 4 months ago when it was discovered that HP did not register the set for extended cover. The supporting receipts were faxed to HP, who acknowledged receipt of the extended warranty. Yet, this time, my set was still... Fortunately, the receipts were in the car. Housemate genius conveniently left the documents in the car foreseeing that another showdown would be inevitable given the reliability of HP products. So warranty was finally settled.
But HP has not gotten back to me to tell me if their initial diagnosis of a motherboard failure was correct. The laptop isn't with me yet. I'm working on my older laptop with an external monitor. The LCD screen died 1 month after its 36 month warranty. I probably need to blame certain bloggers who are always in pink for shocking my poor monitor out of consciousness. I jest, but the only reason why I stuck to HP is for their after sales service.
Mini hiccups and the Wii... Oh, after my intial encounter with Super Mario Galaxy and my decision to lay off it entirely, I went back and played the game for a few more times and cleared a few more worlds. But I digress. Amidst these awful occurrences, I had a great save from a friend-cum-mentor. She made me prepare a list of critical info to send to her for a quick browse and from her, I managed to get a document - perhaps the most important one of all - back. It probably saved me another 2 weeks of research to put that same list back together. Yes, it ain't easy reading pages and pages of CV and description to decide if you can work with that someone on your postgrad studies.
I now wait with bated breath, my luggage and all not packed yet, for any news of my laptop. Defnitely on tenterhooks, you bet.
(Very soon, I should write an academic essay here and then direct all my students to come over here to take a look at one correct academic writing piece so that they know what is a hook, what is a thesis statement, what is a topic sentence, what are admissible evidence, what are cinchers etc... But that is a day in some future.)
The first salvo was my 4 month old Nokia phone not holding charge. I had to send it down last Tuesday to the Nokia service centre and kick up a fuss there because the counter staff tried to shirk out of their product warranty. He claimed that battery life - even if the user manual stated that it lasts up to 300 hours on standby - can be as short as 48 to 72 hours because of all sorts of factors. Yeah, right. When I got the phone new, the battery held charge up to 240 hours (10 days). Now, it drains itself flat, on standby mode, in 48 hours. What could have happened? All sorts of what factors? What about a spoilt battery? I stood my ground and my phone was finally taken in for repair.
The service centre called to inform me on Friday last. The phone is ready for collection. Fine. Looks good to me. Then my computer crashed. It shut itself down and would not reboot.
Housemate said the hard disk crashed. I was devastated. (I can spell devastated because being Murphy's favourite nephew, this word is more frequently used than tenterhooks. Honestly, there is no need to be on tenterhooks usually; one does not often have impending trips.) I hope that it is not. If it is, all my hard work and trip information would be gone. I need to start writing emails to the people I wish to meet to check the timing all over again.
To make things worse, the scheduled back up hard disk went AWOL and had not been backing up my stuff since May. The laptop was finally sent in to HP that same day at 7 pm and even at HP, I had to raise my voice (just a little) at them. It was the third time in a row that I was told my set was not under warranty. However, the fact that my set was under extended warranty (note to all HP laptop buyers: First critical crash-and-burn will occur within 6 months of the first year warranty's expiry; second within 6 months of the extended warranty's (usually for an additional next 24 months) expiry) was established about 4 months ago when it was discovered that HP did not register the set for extended cover. The supporting receipts were faxed to HP, who acknowledged receipt of the extended warranty. Yet, this time, my set was still... Fortunately, the receipts were in the car. Housemate genius conveniently left the documents in the car foreseeing that another showdown would be inevitable given the reliability of HP products. So warranty was finally settled.
But HP has not gotten back to me to tell me if their initial diagnosis of a motherboard failure was correct. The laptop isn't with me yet. I'm working on my older laptop with an external monitor. The LCD screen died 1 month after its 36 month warranty. I probably need to blame certain bloggers who are always in pink for shocking my poor monitor out of consciousness. I jest, but the only reason why I stuck to HP is for their after sales service.
Mini hiccups and the Wii... Oh, after my intial encounter with Super Mario Galaxy and my decision to lay off it entirely, I went back and played the game for a few more times and cleared a few more worlds. But I digress. Amidst these awful occurrences, I had a great save from a friend-cum-mentor. She made me prepare a list of critical info to send to her for a quick browse and from her, I managed to get a document - perhaps the most important one of all - back. It probably saved me another 2 weeks of research to put that same list back together. Yes, it ain't easy reading pages and pages of CV and description to decide if you can work with that someone on your postgrad studies.
I now wait with bated breath, my luggage and all not packed yet, for any news of my laptop. Defnitely on tenterhooks, you bet.
Thursday, July 09, 2009
Residents and Inmates
While I blogged the last entry about my semi-addiction to Super Mario Galaxy, I wrote a line about introducing a slower version of the game to the residents of old folks' homes. Residents, I wrote. But many people tend to, for some odd reason, use the word inmates.
The aptness of the word choice never fails to make me sit up and think. In a way, to many of the residents, the OFH is a facility to which they are "inmates." A kind of restraining facility, albeit with no restriction over visitations and homestays, which has to be PAID FOR instead of state provided. Physical movement is constrained to the grounds and there are fixed times for all sorts of activities. It is perhaps really an inmate's life that many are living.
But with more people not marrying and not having children, is there a viable alternative to becoming inmates of OFHs?
The aptness of the word choice never fails to make me sit up and think. In a way, to many of the residents, the OFH is a facility to which they are "inmates." A kind of restraining facility, albeit with no restriction over visitations and homestays, which has to be PAID FOR instead of state provided. Physical movement is constrained to the grounds and there are fixed times for all sorts of activities. It is perhaps really an inmate's life that many are living.
But with more people not marrying and not having children, is there a viable alternative to becoming inmates of OFHs?
Super Mario Galaxy
The Wii machine met a new friend last weekend. The new friend needs to be inserted into the machine's hole. And after inserting the friend, new pleasure results. In fact, it was so pleasurable that hours are spent trying to top each previosu climax as the positions got progressively more challenging and each round more tedious.
Welcome to my Super Mario Galaxy semi-addiction.
The game started slowly enough. The moves were initially clumsy and the movement slow. But trust me, at the grand old age of... heck, you'll figure out my age anyway. The point is, even if you can teach an old dog new tricks, you can't overcome the fact that aged joints and ancient habits are hard to overcome. I therefore concede: my moves are still clumsy and the movement slow. Trust me, you won't want to read how many times I steered Mario into the black hole. Ok, I didn't steer him into the black holes but the imprecision of my moves inevitably meant Mario became BH fodder one time too many. How many, you ask? Well, try from 15 lives to nothing and then from 10 to nothing and then another 1 more before I cleared some particularly difficult stages.
And you know what's even better about SMG? The programming folks allow you to return to the game from the last point you left off instead of requiring you to begin from scratch. So you get new frustrations when the positions and techniques don't work and new highs when they do. The mind keeps telling itself that it can top the stage and one reaches for the start button after each game over. The ass is rooted to the seat and the mind loses all track of time. (Maybe, Wii and a slower version of SMG can be introduced to old folks' home to keep the residents engaged. Maybe not; they might fight over who's turn it is.)
Yet, the amazing graphics aside, the trick is to know... the tricks. The programmers are not very smart. I've got them figured out mostly. In certain worlds or galaxies, I pick up so many lives that I was incredibly elated. At the same time, I knew the extras would never be enough; how does one pick up extra lives quickly enough a whole game when one needs 26 of them to clear some particularly tricky stage? I don't know how I managed to clear some of those inhuman stages, but I did.
One can usually progress after mentally working through the algorithm required to clear that stage; keeping Mario alive long enough to clear the stage is the larger problem for me. Unfortunately, though, mental dexterity did not make up for the lack of finesse in the finer movements. The fingers were not stiff - digital (pun intended) gravity works differently, I'd say. Of course there are many excuses. This is where I spend all my time moaning about my exciting life, regardless how exciting it really is. Did you expect otherwise?
For all the fun and pleasure it brings, SMG is a silent time killer. I take anywhere between 45 minutes and 3 hours to clear a stage and I've sat in front of the Wii for almost 6 hours yesterday. That is bad. Extremely bad, if you ask me. And at 1.30 am this morning, when I tried to sleep after my shower, all I saw when I shut my eyes were the stars and the coins I was supposed to pick up in the games. My mind was all hyperactive; I can't get to sleep. The brain was devising ways to pick up stars and coins in the various configuration set by and for itself.
At that moment, I think I'm getting out of control. I need to do something quick. I got out of bed, removed the Super Mario Galaxy CD, returned it into its cover and asked for it to be returned. I can't be addicted to it. I can play other things like Wii Sports. That's fine, because there is a limiting factor called physical exhaustion. Wii Sports require you to mimick the actual sports action and with such physical activity, you get worn out and at the opportune moment, you'll decide you've got enough of a workout, turn off the Wii and resume life. SMG does not wear you out. It makes you addicted. And I worry about addiction.
So, there'll be come cold turkey today. And I'll be back to Wii Sporting.
Oh, did I tell you I chose Princess Peach as my avatar? I wanted to choose Queen Bitch if it (Note at edit: Oh man, that's a Freudian slip!) existed. But then what would I do with Q**nsy? Sigh. So, Princess Peach... that's right. Sounds like Princess Bitch anyway.
This semi-addiction seems worse than I imagine...
Welcome to my Super Mario Galaxy semi-addiction.
The game started slowly enough. The moves were initially clumsy and the movement slow. But trust me, at the grand old age of... heck, you'll figure out my age anyway. The point is, even if you can teach an old dog new tricks, you can't overcome the fact that aged joints and ancient habits are hard to overcome. I therefore concede: my moves are still clumsy and the movement slow. Trust me, you won't want to read how many times I steered Mario into the black hole. Ok, I didn't steer him into the black holes but the imprecision of my moves inevitably meant Mario became BH fodder one time too many. How many, you ask? Well, try from 15 lives to nothing and then from 10 to nothing and then another 1 more before I cleared some particularly difficult stages.
And you know what's even better about SMG? The programming folks allow you to return to the game from the last point you left off instead of requiring you to begin from scratch. So you get new frustrations when the positions and techniques don't work and new highs when they do. The mind keeps telling itself that it can top the stage and one reaches for the start button after each game over. The ass is rooted to the seat and the mind loses all track of time. (Maybe, Wii and a slower version of SMG can be introduced to old folks' home to keep the residents engaged. Maybe not; they might fight over who's turn it is.)
Yet, the amazing graphics aside, the trick is to know... the tricks. The programmers are not very smart. I've got them figured out mostly. In certain worlds or galaxies, I pick up so many lives that I was incredibly elated. At the same time, I knew the extras would never be enough; how does one pick up extra lives quickly enough a whole game when one needs 26 of them to clear some particularly tricky stage? I don't know how I managed to clear some of those inhuman stages, but I did.
One can usually progress after mentally working through the algorithm required to clear that stage; keeping Mario alive long enough to clear the stage is the larger problem for me. Unfortunately, though, mental dexterity did not make up for the lack of finesse in the finer movements. The fingers were not stiff - digital (pun intended) gravity works differently, I'd say. Of course there are many excuses. This is where I spend all my time moaning about my exciting life, regardless how exciting it really is. Did you expect otherwise?
For all the fun and pleasure it brings, SMG is a silent time killer. I take anywhere between 45 minutes and 3 hours to clear a stage and I've sat in front of the Wii for almost 6 hours yesterday. That is bad. Extremely bad, if you ask me. And at 1.30 am this morning, when I tried to sleep after my shower, all I saw when I shut my eyes were the stars and the coins I was supposed to pick up in the games. My mind was all hyperactive; I can't get to sleep. The brain was devising ways to pick up stars and coins in the various configuration set by and for itself.
At that moment, I think I'm getting out of control. I need to do something quick. I got out of bed, removed the Super Mario Galaxy CD, returned it into its cover and asked for it to be returned. I can't be addicted to it. I can play other things like Wii Sports. That's fine, because there is a limiting factor called physical exhaustion. Wii Sports require you to mimick the actual sports action and with such physical activity, you get worn out and at the opportune moment, you'll decide you've got enough of a workout, turn off the Wii and resume life. SMG does not wear you out. It makes you addicted. And I worry about addiction.
So, there'll be come cold turkey today. And I'll be back to Wii Sporting.
Oh, did I tell you I chose Princess Peach as my avatar? I wanted to choose Queen Bitch if it (Note at edit: Oh man, that's a Freudian slip!) existed. But then what would I do with Q**nsy? Sigh. So, Princess Peach... that's right. Sounds like Princess Bitch anyway.
This semi-addiction seems worse than I imagine...
Wednesday, July 08, 2009
Twitter Twitter
Seems like I've got myself Twitter and never got to updating it much. The reason is very simple - at least to me.
We do not have free Wifi covering the entire island and internet connection charges are exorbitant.
So, why would I pay a bomb to tell you what I'm doing. Anyway, do you really want to know what I'm doing?
We do not have free Wifi covering the entire island and internet connection charges are exorbitant.
So, why would I pay a bomb to tell you what I'm doing. Anyway, do you really want to know what I'm doing?
Tuesday, July 07, 2009
Just the last bits...
I'm almost ready to go on my trip. Just have a few things to do.
1. Get a US SIM card so I don't have to incur IDD charges when making US phone calls. I know what shop to buy from but they are so far from my hotel. Perhaps I should try my luck in the airport and see if I can score something.
2. My accommodation in New York City is not done yet. This should be done after I make a phone call. Heck, the USD is climbing higher and higher recently. All my savings from the lower rates earlier when I booked my flights and other hotel rooms are not even enough to match the increase in the rates.
3. I need to find out where else to shop in NYC. Can't be doing Century 21 all the time. I want to find something new. Perhaps also go to the Guggenheim and take a picture of its exterior. Does anyone know if the renovations are complete?
4. I've got only a day in DC. I'm meeting an old friend there. And I need to know what plans my NJ friends have, so I know to book my Amtrak tickets for the correct train timing.
Time seems to fly at the wrong time and crawl at the incorrect time.
1. Get a US SIM card so I don't have to incur IDD charges when making US phone calls. I know what shop to buy from but they are so far from my hotel. Perhaps I should try my luck in the airport and see if I can score something.
2. My accommodation in New York City is not done yet. This should be done after I make a phone call. Heck, the USD is climbing higher and higher recently. All my savings from the lower rates earlier when I booked my flights and other hotel rooms are not even enough to match the increase in the rates.
3. I need to find out where else to shop in NYC. Can't be doing Century 21 all the time. I want to find something new. Perhaps also go to the Guggenheim and take a picture of its exterior. Does anyone know if the renovations are complete?
4. I've got only a day in DC. I'm meeting an old friend there. And I need to know what plans my NJ friends have, so I know to book my Amtrak tickets for the correct train timing.
Time seems to fly at the wrong time and crawl at the incorrect time.
Wednesday, July 01, 2009
Out of touch
I must be staying home too much. I cannot believe the oddities of society these days. Here are some instances:
1. She does not know the hole is down there. A woman tried to deposit a cheque in a quick cheque deposit box outside a bank and she kept trying to insert the cheque into where she adaamantly thinks is the slit. Despite the clear arrow and a few good looks at the opening, she kept poking the check into the wall. She has no freaking idea that the hole she needs is just 3 inches below. Until a guy puts in his cheque in the hole correctly that she finally figured. The hole is down there, woman!
2. He goes in and out of the lot. A man had to reverse into, drive out of, reverse into, drive out of and finally reverse into a car park lot. By my guesstimate, he probably didn't move the car position an inch. Perhaps he hoped that by going in and out, in and out, the inch will come somehow. I think he is mistaken. How could anyone believe that anything could get any real pleasure from such silly moves?
3. They took more pictures of the live fish awaiting slaughter in a supermarket than any one would in an aquarium. The recent phenomena of supermarkets selling live fish and seafood has turned many of these shopping places into mini attractions. Off-work foreign workers congregate in front of tanks of garoupa, snappers, tilapia, crabs, lobsters, prawn and other shell fish, snapping pictues using their handphones. I never remembered seeing so many pictures taken of fish and seafood; the now-defunct Van Kleef Aquarium certainly didn't see that much action from its visitors, even during its hey day in the 1980s.
I'm getting puzzled.
1. She does not know the hole is down there. A woman tried to deposit a cheque in a quick cheque deposit box outside a bank and she kept trying to insert the cheque into where she adaamantly thinks is the slit. Despite the clear arrow and a few good looks at the opening, she kept poking the check into the wall. She has no freaking idea that the hole she needs is just 3 inches below. Until a guy puts in his cheque in the hole correctly that she finally figured. The hole is down there, woman!
2. He goes in and out of the lot. A man had to reverse into, drive out of, reverse into, drive out of and finally reverse into a car park lot. By my guesstimate, he probably didn't move the car position an inch. Perhaps he hoped that by going in and out, in and out, the inch will come somehow. I think he is mistaken. How could anyone believe that anything could get any real pleasure from such silly moves?
3. They took more pictures of the live fish awaiting slaughter in a supermarket than any one would in an aquarium. The recent phenomena of supermarkets selling live fish and seafood has turned many of these shopping places into mini attractions. Off-work foreign workers congregate in front of tanks of garoupa, snappers, tilapia, crabs, lobsters, prawn and other shell fish, snapping pictues using their handphones. I never remembered seeing so many pictures taken of fish and seafood; the now-defunct Van Kleef Aquarium certainly didn't see that much action from its visitors, even during its hey day in the 1980s.
I'm getting puzzled.
Murphy Strikes
Strike 1
University of Maryland wrote back and said my area is not a good fit with them. There goes a safety school.
Strike 2
Amtrak takes more than 4 hours to move from Chicago Union Station to Ann Arbor. I can't possibly do a day trip and return in decent shape. I will probably reach the hotel 1 am the next morning after the DAY trip and wake up in time the next morning.
Strike 3
To make it to Chicago O'Hare International Airport by 7 am to check in, I need to hop on the 4.57 am Metro at Davis, Evanston. The trip takes about 2 hours and the reason is that the journey taken by the Metro lines go down south and the back northeast. A direct journey east would have probably taken a third the time.
Strike 4
A big shot of a particular university, after seeing my background, says my GRE Verbal scores are slightly low but "I (referring to if he were me) would definitely apply to our program." I think this is a uber long shot since the university accepts only 2 PhD students a year. But then, this big shot is really big.
Pieceofpork, message me. This university is for you.
Strike 5
To go to visit this particular university, I'll have to spend 10 hours on an Amtrak train, give up 2 nights of hotel, rebook another night of hotel, and give up one part of an airticket.
Strike 6
Not yet. But another Airbus (Yemen) bites the sea. And I'm booked on two Airbus planes for my US domestic flights. Is that irony or what?
Stike 7
You people are sadists or WHAT? Don't tell me... Of course you are enjoying this. What better way to have fun than at another's expense.
Heck, I'm going to enjoy this US trip and I can't give a bloody damn about whatever happens. At this rate things are going, and with the bird flu raging, I wonder if tomorrow will ever come. Maybe I should extend yet another day in NYC...
University of Maryland wrote back and said my area is not a good fit with them. There goes a safety school.
Strike 2
Amtrak takes more than 4 hours to move from Chicago Union Station to Ann Arbor. I can't possibly do a day trip and return in decent shape. I will probably reach the hotel 1 am the next morning after the DAY trip and wake up in time the next morning.
Strike 3
To make it to Chicago O'Hare International Airport by 7 am to check in, I need to hop on the 4.57 am Metro at Davis, Evanston. The trip takes about 2 hours and the reason is that the journey taken by the Metro lines go down south and the back northeast. A direct journey east would have probably taken a third the time.
Strike 4
A big shot of a particular university, after seeing my background, says my GRE Verbal scores are slightly low but "I (referring to if he were me) would definitely apply to our program." I think this is a uber long shot since the university accepts only 2 PhD students a year. But then, this big shot is really big.
Pieceofpork, message me. This university is for you.
Strike 5
To go to visit this particular university, I'll have to spend 10 hours on an Amtrak train, give up 2 nights of hotel, rebook another night of hotel, and give up one part of an airticket.
Strike 6
Not yet. But another Airbus (Yemen) bites the sea. And I'm booked on two Airbus planes for my US domestic flights. Is that irony or what?
Stike 7
You people are sadists or WHAT? Don't tell me... Of course you are enjoying this. What better way to have fun than at another's expense.
Heck, I'm going to enjoy this US trip and I can't give a bloody damn about whatever happens. At this rate things are going, and with the bird flu raging, I wonder if tomorrow will ever come. Maybe I should extend yet another day in NYC...
Repetitive Strain Injuries
I think I've overdone my Wii playing. The pains I'm feeling now are more injury like (you know, after an hour of tennis, almost 25 bowling games, 6 baseball games) instead of mere muscle aches. Now that I figured out what patience can do in a Wii golf game, I'm adding that to my repetoire of games.
The pain goes up the neck and radiates down the arms and fingers from a source I can't directly pin point. My back, oh my back, is in pain and my range of motion is somewhat limited. I can't turn my head left and right and my shoulders feel like they have gone on a holiday without the rest of the body.
I think I'm going to play Wii later again.
The pain goes up the neck and radiates down the arms and fingers from a source I can't directly pin point. My back, oh my back, is in pain and my range of motion is somewhat limited. I can't turn my head left and right and my shoulders feel like they have gone on a holiday without the rest of the body.
I think I'm going to play Wii later again.
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