Yup, version 6. It's almost too hard to believe. But there have been five Canadian Christmas Vacation trips before (there would have been six but Helga showed up a little too close to Christmas 2015 for calm and comfort), and so this one really was the sixth. And you'd think that with a number like 6 (greatest number ever) it would have been grand -- the best ever, even. I'll let you decide for yourself...
Pemulis had recently started a new job in map making for Gerardus Mercator and his Christian, Dutch cronies and in particular he was working on a method to properly project sea monsters reported by trustworthy sailors on to the probably approximately correct (PAC) location on the map in the expanses of the Atlantic Ocean. Some glitches were cropping up, however, and despite some serious tinkering in the map-making process the sea monsters were actually in many cases showing up in even more incorrect positions than before. Unfortunate, to say the least, but if you want to discover more direct routes to plunder the best spices from unsuspecting indigenous populations, you've got to be willing to live just a little on the edge.
So with the lack of success in the sea monster project up to this date, Pemulis was naturally eagerly awaiting a break from the grind and a 3-week no-expenses-paid trip to the New World for him and his family. Finally, Dies Martis arrived and the Pemulis's made their way to the aerodrome for a something like 200 hour flight to the Dominion of Canada (the timelines here are a little confusing). The 8+ days airborne were surprisingly uneventful and you would think that spending that long traveling across timezones might help with the eventual onslaught of circadian dysrhythmia but no.
The first several days of CCV v.6 were even more uneventful than the aeroplane flight. Each day consisted primarily of staring at a wall and sulphur and pitch fumigations that were naturally administered to aid in the travel-induced sleep modifications. But by day 5 (or somewhere around there) Pemulis and Joelle were ready to leave little Helga along with her grandmother for a trip into the deep North with Pemulis's siblings and their spouses. A chariot met them bright and early according to the sundial at the north forty and they began a journey through fields of snow to a remote cabin for some serious sibling bonding.
Gin and Crokinole were naturally the primary activities for all involved and both helped lead to an evening of high spirits and few (perhaps zero) trips to the apothecary a short 90 miles down the Roman-built path. Team Pemulis was even victorious in the end following an unsuccessful and highly controversial carom attempted by his enemies (/brother and sister-in-law). After a meal of thick pottage in the dining quarters, the attendees retired to the parlour for a round of cigars and Napoleon brandy.
Shortly following their return to the north forty, it was suddenly Christmas Day and the home filled with visitors. There was Caliban, the towne drunk; Petruchio, Joelle's mother's sister's husband; Shylock, the half-mad gardener; Herne the Hunter (Joelle's brother) along with his wife Gertrude and their children Titania and Nick Bottom; Joelle's parents Heathcliffe and Catherine; her sister Portia; Puck, the farm-hand; and many more. The house was loud that day, my friends. Like a Limp Bizkit concert where the locals had forgotten to pay off the sound engineer to sabotage the sound board. A good man was lost in the commotion of gift unwrapping and at one point we feared dearly for Portia's life but in the end we all breathed a heavy sigh of relief when she only lost an eye.
In a bid to escape the pandemonium that was twirling all around them with their lives, Pemulis, Joelle, and Helga soon after climbed aboard the Ultimate Driving Machine and roared down the motorway to Pemulis's parents' grand palace, also-known-as The Willows. My memory escapes me with respect to the precise time of our arrival, but Pemulis and co passed through the doorway of The Willows somewhere in the environs of 11 pm (or at least it felt that way due to the length of the morning). In contrast to the north forty, The Willows was surprisingly quiet. Pemulis's brother's children -- who historically were classified as "potentially dangerous contributors to acoustic neuroma" -- seemed polite, reserved, and very, well, grown up when Pemulis compared them to Titania and Nick Bottom and their frighteningly loud and out-of-control interactions with Helga. Even Pemulis's sister's daughter Saldana was a joy to have around.
Pemulis sat himself down on one of the two Vincenzo De Cotiis down-filled, kangaroo twine stitched living room settees and the butler promptly fetched him an Old Fashioned served in a Baccarat crystal. The children quietly amused themselves in the games room and the adults discussed the year that was while partaking in a spirited game of backgammon. Pemulis's luck had run out, however, and was thoroughly swatted when he doubled at a point when clearly should have simply accepted a double. He won't be making that mistake again.
When it was time to open the gifts delivered by Kris Kringle, there was an orderly procession of youngest-to-oldest and following each unwrapping Father Pemulis captured a photograph on the Leica M3. The highlight of the afternoon was undoubtedly the white gold Patek Philippe Calatrava gifted from Pemulis to his older brother. It was all the more humorous when later Pemulis opened the identical gift from Joelle. Great minds, and all that.
Several days later, Pemulis and Joelle set out for a night away, a generous gift from Pemulis's parents that included full babysitting service for the apple of their eye Helga. They again boarded the Ultimate Driving Machine and thundered to the South Bank of the Thames where a dinner awaited them. They strolled the streets through the glistening snow post-meal and planned a very comfortable life in the area for Pemulis's baby sister including her future banker, tax advisor, gym, and of course guitar teacher.
Returning to the north forty, Pemulis encountered some health problems. Nothing a timely administered Carbolic Smoke Ball couldn't cure, however, and our heroes were back to the races. The next event on their itinerary involved a trip to the local mountain where little Helga could participate in some much-deserved mountaineering. Helga took to this rather impressively and was soon climbing circles around the other adventurers. There were zero problems with her wanting to participate in said activity and the whole family felt 100% confident that they had got their money's worth and vowed to return when the opportunity again presented itself.
Like all good things, eventually the CCV v.6 had to come to a close. Pemulis, Joelle, and Helga, after a relaxing chariot ride to the aerodrome, boarded the TWA Dreamliner and were whisked into the clouds for a return to a more civilised version of life. Diesel automobiles, beer for breakfast, the expectation to only bathe monthly, and most served food based on a process that involved force feeding a helpless animal in some manner. It was good to be back on the continent.
Thursday, January 24, 2019
Monday, January 21, 2019
What do people care about, think about, and, most importantly, write about?
In ancienter times than now, when looking for inspiration or arguing an important point in a pressing matter, or exploring answers and guidance through life's often turbulent, trying, and confusing happenings, one might have turned to Shakespeare: there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so. One might just as usefully have turned to Socrates: the only true wisdom is to know that you know nothing. Today, however, we shall turn to a wisdom (of sorts) imparted from the inimitable superhero film Deadpool 2. And the topic of that wisdom is: luck.
In Deadpool 2, Deadpool has to go on a mission to save a fat New Zealand mutant child (as you do) and to do so he puts together a team of superheroes to aid in said mission. The most important member of this team turns out to be Domino, whose super power is... "being lucky". Seems kind of lame, right? But, it becomes pretty clear pretty quickly that being lucky is one of the most powerful of all the super powers. Anyways, it goes without saying (but I'll say it) that a powerful super power will also have a powerful anti super power and in this case it's pretty obviously "being unlucky".
Now I won't argue that I'm an overall unlucky person (more like a bad decision maker) but my present trip to the largest sub-national economy in the world has been decidedly afflicted with a case of the unluckys. First: one of the people I was supposed to be meeting with concurrently booked a trip in the other direction and so they are currently sitting in Bavaria while I sit here. Second: I'm meant to be meeting all week with "remote colleagues" but sitting here in the office kitchen with no one around it's very clear that one should not show up to work on a holiday Monday! Whoops. (and yes I'm aware that one could just as easily characterize point number two as being lucky -- kind of a free holiday -- but I'm pretending to be a hard worker right now).
Back to the other side of unlucky, though. You know what's lucky? Knowing what to care about, think about, and then I guess by extension, write about. But the former two hold the bulk of importance, of course. Now I don't mean that I don't know about to care about, ad litteram. Obviously Joelle and Helga share the number one spot in that particular competition (but they better start getting ready to shove a little bit over on said pedestal for when little Dinosaur or whatever we'll end up calling him arrives in a few short weeks). What I mean is more like passion in work or hobbies -- the things that push you to work or at least work hard and that excite you. Now I know that I'm lucky because I even have the luxury to be able to think about this kind of thing (though thinking in many contexts is decidedly an unlucky thing to have to do) but if (to take a wild example) one believes that technology -- while promising an improvement in life and by extension happiness -- is actually making our lives less fulfilling, more stressful, and onerous, then maybe that's even worse working in that area than if you were working as some kind of labourer "just" for the paycheque.
But now, the sun is shining outside, there's literally no one else in this office, and so I will go for a walk and see if clarity may arrive through the warm healing rays of the sun.
In Deadpool 2, Deadpool has to go on a mission to save a fat New Zealand mutant child (as you do) and to do so he puts together a team of superheroes to aid in said mission. The most important member of this team turns out to be Domino, whose super power is... "being lucky". Seems kind of lame, right? But, it becomes pretty clear pretty quickly that being lucky is one of the most powerful of all the super powers. Anyways, it goes without saying (but I'll say it) that a powerful super power will also have a powerful anti super power and in this case it's pretty obviously "being unlucky".
Now I won't argue that I'm an overall unlucky person (more like a bad decision maker) but my present trip to the largest sub-national economy in the world has been decidedly afflicted with a case of the unluckys. First: one of the people I was supposed to be meeting with concurrently booked a trip in the other direction and so they are currently sitting in Bavaria while I sit here. Second: I'm meant to be meeting all week with "remote colleagues" but sitting here in the office kitchen with no one around it's very clear that one should not show up to work on a holiday Monday! Whoops. (and yes I'm aware that one could just as easily characterize point number two as being lucky -- kind of a free holiday -- but I'm pretending to be a hard worker right now).
Back to the other side of unlucky, though. You know what's lucky? Knowing what to care about, think about, and then I guess by extension, write about. But the former two hold the bulk of importance, of course. Now I don't mean that I don't know about to care about, ad litteram. Obviously Joelle and Helga share the number one spot in that particular competition (but they better start getting ready to shove a little bit over on said pedestal for when little Dinosaur or whatever we'll end up calling him arrives in a few short weeks). What I mean is more like passion in work or hobbies -- the things that push you to work or at least work hard and that excite you. Now I know that I'm lucky because I even have the luxury to be able to think about this kind of thing (though thinking in many contexts is decidedly an unlucky thing to have to do) but if (to take a wild example) one believes that technology -- while promising an improvement in life and by extension happiness -- is actually making our lives less fulfilling, more stressful, and onerous, then maybe that's even worse working in that area than if you were working as some kind of labourer "just" for the paycheque.
But now, the sun is shining outside, there's literally no one else in this office, and so I will go for a walk and see if clarity may arrive through the warm healing rays of the sun.
California Redux
It's been a quarter of a year since pixel was put to screen on this blog but Pemulis is back and he's back in California. After never having been here till last Fall, it's now Pemulis's number #1 travel destination for the key Fall 2018 / Winter 2019 time segment. It's not exactly clear why Pemulis is in California right now but the prevailing understanding -- some call it a narrative -- is that he's here now so that he won't have to go later in the year, we believe. It's a mystery that A&E will surely one day make a series about: how do these technology companies make any money at all when you see what goes on behind the scenes? Modern Mysteries, premiering next Fall, after Parking Wars and before Hoarders: Motorhome Edition, only on A&E.
What is Pemulis doing here? Pemulis feels like he could probably get a real benefit out of some personal counselling from Jean-Paul Sartre, Simone de Beauvoir, maybe Albert Camus, somebody, anybody, because he really has no idea. It kind of seems like he's not doing anything for any purpose and these guys and gal might agree / have agreed. Didn't people used to spend a summer in Europe after college to find themselves before entering the real world having everything figured out? Well, if you haven't been keeping track, Pemulis has spent seven years there now and he probably feels more lost than ever, we imagine. Ostensibly, he's here -- here, being Californ I.A. -- for "meetings". Now don't go telling the CFO, but are these meetings really going to change anything about anything for anyone? (purely rhetorical question for anyone looking for the "contact" button).
In the back of your mind, you can always go home. But eventually, after seven years for example, home isn't what you remember it to be. And your new place sure isn't your new home either. Poor Pemulis; destined to be running away from something forever and ever, amen. Pemulis does have two important reasons for being here, however: number one, tonight's total lunar eclipse will not be visible in Europe (the land of demystifying one's dreams) and the Bay Area should be a prime spot for viewing (unfortunately, however, the forecast calls for 100% chance of cloudy conditions most probably negating reason number one); and, number two, helping to treat (though one can't be so optimistic as to imagine "curing") a serious case of the wintertime blues. While tonight's "super blood wolf moon" will in all likelihood be rained out, the rest of the week calls for a whole lotta warm California sun of which one should be out there having fun in and while Pemulis will be "working" during the day, he will also be 200% sure to get out there even if ever so briefly for some key targeted lunchtime sun exposure.
One thing that being in California seems good at accomplishing is creating a fake nostalgia drenched feeling of one-time bliss felt through music created and played during the 1990's. Did Third Eye Blind do anything after that first album? Doesn't matter. Did Jewel eventually start making dance music and give in to the evil temptation that is autotune? Pemulis hopes not, but even if she did, it doesn't matter either. Did Counting Crows become cringingly, embarrassingly terrible? Yes. But all that music that helped form Pemulis's psyche when he was around 14 years old is now forever tied up in some very complicated and very messy tangled-up knots of neurons that are somehow tied to California and once thinking that he might have had an idea of what he wanted to get out of life. And no, the San Jose Sharks are again on a road trip this week.
There's a wide wall that Pemulis can't see over now. It's a good thing that Pemulis is a fictional character by the way (emphasis added). One thing that this fictional character in particular really quite likes is warm(er) (always warmer) weather and California seems to have that more or less in spades. It's really nice to get away from the cold but then when you head back to it it seems even colder than before. Wow this writer is some kind of philosopher king. And so you find yourself on a "business trip" tired, jet-lagged, and alone, wishing for it to end but also dreading the end of it and the return to dark mornings and afternoons, grey skies, and freezing rain.
I have to say I'm a little bit jealous of Pemulis. And in fact I find it kind of irritating that he sometimes seems so glum, because from my view up here at around 10,000 feet he seems like a pretty lucky dude. Why, I heard that just today he spent a couple of hours at a Baron Barista sipping some very fine caffeinated products while reading Jonathan Franzen's seven hundred and eighty-fourth consecutive essay saying the same thing about the same birds (OK, maybe that part was the more irritating in all this). So therein perhaps lies the problem? Maybe he's reading the wrong stuff.
It was a long December and there's reason to believe, maybe this year will be better than the last. And it's one more day up in the canyons. And it's one more night in Hollywood. If you think you might come to California, I think you should (but don't go alone).
Saturday, October 27, 2018
It's the edge of the world and all of western civilization
Got on board a westbound Airbus A340-600. Thundered through the autumnal sky, roaring over the still-extant floating ice of the north-west passage and above the mighty Rocky Mountains before touching down south of the city at San Francisco International on a comfortably warm evening in October. There was a light breeze coming off the bay as I stepped outside of the terminal and made my way to the "ride share app pick-up" section next to international departures. My driver Mo and his Ford Escape pulled up within moments and for the first time ever, I was ready to experience the California of my dreams.
Finally, after all these years it was happening. I'd made up my mind to make a new start, got a job with a company that captured by heart. We drove past palm trees and a whole lot of tech utopia-esque billboards -- Smart Toothpaste and Internet-connected Toilets and the like -- and soon the Golden Gate Bridge appeared in the distance. We passed the Bill Graham Civic Auditorium where people were lining up many levels deep to see the Arctic Monkeys. I arrived at my hotel with a cool wind in my hair, and the warm smell of colitas1 rising up through the air. The <REDACTED> hotel welcomed me warmly and I dropped off my bag before heading out to explore the culinary experiences that SF and its reputation promised me.
SF is an amazing city. But in a bad state. The North Shore is beautiful, there are nice parks along the waterfront and great views of the Golden Gate Bridge, Alcatraz, and the bay itself. The houses are probably worth a billion dollars each and there are nicely dressed families walking along the promenade enjoying the sun and the sea air. Closer to the centre of the city, there are many things, but two things most predominantly: (1) garbage; and (2) homeless people with either mental health problems, addiction problems, or both. And there are a whole lot of both (1) and (2). It's a crisis. There is shit on the street (not from little white dogs like in Paris -- human shit) and you feel like you're in a zombie movie. The people seem to walk the way zombies are depicted in The Walking Dead. They have a way of shuffling their feet very slowly with glazed eyes not focusing on anything. It's unfortunately a little bit frightening and it's a disaster not because it makes the city dirty and ugly and kind of scary to walk around in (though those are all true), but these people have no way to get out of this spiral. If you thought living in Munich or Vancouver was expensive, try San Fran. It is the most expensive city in the US (yes, including Manhattan) and the median price for a condo is more than 1.4 million dollars. There's no affordable housing and there seem to be no social programs (or not enough of them) to help these people who need them.
The other weird thing is how it all sits on top of each other. There are places in SF that are completely gentrified (like the amazing Patricia's Green which is -- as said -- amazing and a great example of what a city can look like when you take cars out of it, but gentrified in the worst sense of the word: people who aren't multi-millionaires are no longer permitted, essentially) but in the Tenderloin, for example, it's not like there's a "bad area". Instead, you walk down the street literally taking exaggerated steps to get over people sleeping in the street and then open the door into fashionable bar full of expensively-dressed people enjoying $30 cocktails. It's a two-tier society right here in North America (look at me being shocked about that) and it boggles the mind that this can happen in a place that's so rich. Just another way to survive, I guess.
Going back to the good, now: San Francisco is amazing if you have money (and flowers in your hair) and you love good food, coffee, drinks, etc. You are absolutely spoiled here as the number of options of different cuisines with high quality, the best coffee at seemingly every corner, and craft beer breweries and bars every three storefronts.
In contrast to the colitas that wafted up intermittently throughout San Francisco, Palo Alto seems to have a beautiful permanent smell that makes you feel like you're in a tropical forest (with a few highways thrown in for good measure). Some of the leaves are brown (though not all) and all around you is the smell of flowers, liquorice, pepper, and also some kind of "toasted" smell (that I understand is particular to the autumn). Walking through town feels to me like walking through a really nice botanical garden that someone built a city on top of. Remember Space Quest III: The Pirates of Pestulon? Of course you do. Remember the end of the game when Roger Wilco brings the Two Guys from Andromeda (those folks I dig) to the Sierra Online headquarters?
Well good thing YouTube exists because you can find everything there. And there it is, just above. I hadn't thought about this game in years but somehow walking around here I immediately thought of this scene (and it might even be Washington State -- let's hope not) but it made me think of that. Weird. Here's a couple of real pictures of Palo Alto (though they don't really capture it...):
I can't explain it but I feel that Silicon Valley could really only have happened here. It's not just the weather (though that's part of it -- it never rains in California) but it's something about the geography. It feels like there's infinite possibility here with how comfortable it feels outside, how nice it looks, and the infinity of the nature preserves just South and East of tech's Mecca. Looking out the window from the backseat of a Lyft driver's car, you see foothills and mountains covered in cacti and what look to me, anyways, like "exotic" trees. I'm no botanist (duh), but I would describe these natural areas as deserts that have plants. Ha. I mean, there's a lot of vegetation so it's no desert, but there are large swaths of land with nothing and the plants and trees that you see feel "desert-y", let's say. I dunno.
I dreamed of coming here since I was maybe 14 years old. For a long time I thought it would be a dream to live here and then somehow (haha not so hard if you watch the news) I got completely turned off of the idea of ever wanting to live in the United States. My desire to want to come to California waned over the years and I felt pulled to more exotic, quote-unquote, locations for holiday and for living. Lifestyle -- but in a different sense than I had imagined before -- became more important and the "American way of life" (TM) and car supremacy and other things turned me off of this place.
It's hard to be really surprised by a place and normally people are disappointed or feel let down when they finally visit a place they've dreamed of visiting (cf. Paris Syndrome). Things can never live up to how much they've been pumped up in one's mind. Separate from being surprised or delighted, there's also the ability of a place to change your views on things. I think this can often happen -- most obviously by experiencing a different culture that shows you that what you thought was normal and 'standard' maybe isn't necessarily all that so -- but it normally sinks in over a protracted period of time and it's only when you look back that you realize "that changed me".
Well perhaps it's because I had no expectations but California did something pretty impressive. I'm not disappointed and I'm definitely not surprised. But a big change did happen. I would consider living here. Why not?
1. Literally. The relevant bit courtesy of https://www.straightdope.com/columns/read/1053/in-the-song-hotel-california-what-does-colitas-mean/: [...] in 1976, during the writing of the song Hotel California by Messrs. Henley and Frey, the word "colitas" was translated for them by their Mexican-American road manager as "little buds." ↩
Finally, after all these years it was happening. I'd made up my mind to make a new start, got a job with a company that captured by heart. We drove past palm trees and a whole lot of tech utopia-esque billboards -- Smart Toothpaste and Internet-connected Toilets and the like -- and soon the Golden Gate Bridge appeared in the distance. We passed the Bill Graham Civic Auditorium where people were lining up many levels deep to see the Arctic Monkeys. I arrived at my hotel with a cool wind in my hair, and the warm smell of colitas1 rising up through the air. The <REDACTED> hotel welcomed me warmly and I dropped off my bag before heading out to explore the culinary experiences that SF and its reputation promised me.
SF is an amazing city. But in a bad state. The North Shore is beautiful, there are nice parks along the waterfront and great views of the Golden Gate Bridge, Alcatraz, and the bay itself. The houses are probably worth a billion dollars each and there are nicely dressed families walking along the promenade enjoying the sun and the sea air. Closer to the centre of the city, there are many things, but two things most predominantly: (1) garbage; and (2) homeless people with either mental health problems, addiction problems, or both. And there are a whole lot of both (1) and (2). It's a crisis. There is shit on the street (not from little white dogs like in Paris -- human shit) and you feel like you're in a zombie movie. The people seem to walk the way zombies are depicted in The Walking Dead. They have a way of shuffling their feet very slowly with glazed eyes not focusing on anything. It's unfortunately a little bit frightening and it's a disaster not because it makes the city dirty and ugly and kind of scary to walk around in (though those are all true), but these people have no way to get out of this spiral. If you thought living in Munich or Vancouver was expensive, try San Fran. It is the most expensive city in the US (yes, including Manhattan) and the median price for a condo is more than 1.4 million dollars. There's no affordable housing and there seem to be no social programs (or not enough of them) to help these people who need them.
The other weird thing is how it all sits on top of each other. There are places in SF that are completely gentrified (like the amazing Patricia's Green which is -- as said -- amazing and a great example of what a city can look like when you take cars out of it, but gentrified in the worst sense of the word: people who aren't multi-millionaires are no longer permitted, essentially) but in the Tenderloin, for example, it's not like there's a "bad area". Instead, you walk down the street literally taking exaggerated steps to get over people sleeping in the street and then open the door into fashionable bar full of expensively-dressed people enjoying $30 cocktails. It's a two-tier society right here in North America (look at me being shocked about that) and it boggles the mind that this can happen in a place that's so rich. Just another way to survive, I guess.
Going back to the good, now: San Francisco is amazing if you have money (and flowers in your hair) and you love good food, coffee, drinks, etc. You are absolutely spoiled here as the number of options of different cuisines with high quality, the best coffee at seemingly every corner, and craft beer breweries and bars every three storefronts.
In contrast to the colitas that wafted up intermittently throughout San Francisco, Palo Alto seems to have a beautiful permanent smell that makes you feel like you're in a tropical forest (with a few highways thrown in for good measure). Some of the leaves are brown (though not all) and all around you is the smell of flowers, liquorice, pepper, and also some kind of "toasted" smell (that I understand is particular to the autumn). Walking through town feels to me like walking through a really nice botanical garden that someone built a city on top of. Remember Space Quest III: The Pirates of Pestulon? Of course you do. Remember the end of the game when Roger Wilco brings the Two Guys from Andromeda (those folks I dig) to the Sierra Online headquarters?
Well good thing YouTube exists because you can find everything there. And there it is, just above. I hadn't thought about this game in years but somehow walking around here I immediately thought of this scene (and it might even be Washington State -- let's hope not) but it made me think of that. Weird. Here's a couple of real pictures of Palo Alto (though they don't really capture it...):
I can't explain it but I feel that Silicon Valley could really only have happened here. It's not just the weather (though that's part of it -- it never rains in California) but it's something about the geography. It feels like there's infinite possibility here with how comfortable it feels outside, how nice it looks, and the infinity of the nature preserves just South and East of tech's Mecca. Looking out the window from the backseat of a Lyft driver's car, you see foothills and mountains covered in cacti and what look to me, anyways, like "exotic" trees. I'm no botanist (duh), but I would describe these natural areas as deserts that have plants. Ha. I mean, there's a lot of vegetation so it's no desert, but there are large swaths of land with nothing and the plants and trees that you see feel "desert-y", let's say. I dunno.
I dreamed of coming here since I was maybe 14 years old. For a long time I thought it would be a dream to live here and then somehow (haha not so hard if you watch the news) I got completely turned off of the idea of ever wanting to live in the United States. My desire to want to come to California waned over the years and I felt pulled to more exotic, quote-unquote, locations for holiday and for living. Lifestyle -- but in a different sense than I had imagined before -- became more important and the "American way of life" (TM) and car supremacy and other things turned me off of this place.
It's hard to be really surprised by a place and normally people are disappointed or feel let down when they finally visit a place they've dreamed of visiting (cf. Paris Syndrome). Things can never live up to how much they've been pumped up in one's mind. Separate from being surprised or delighted, there's also the ability of a place to change your views on things. I think this can often happen -- most obviously by experiencing a different culture that shows you that what you thought was normal and 'standard' maybe isn't necessarily all that so -- but it normally sinks in over a protracted period of time and it's only when you look back that you realize "that changed me".
Well perhaps it's because I had no expectations but California did something pretty impressive. I'm not disappointed and I'm definitely not surprised. But a big change did happen. I would consider living here. Why not?
1. Literally. The relevant bit courtesy of https://www.straightdope.com/columns/read/1053/in-the-song-hotel-california-what-does-colitas-mean/: [...] in 1976, during the writing of the song Hotel California by Messrs. Henley and Frey, the word "colitas" was translated for them by their Mexican-American road manager as "little buds." ↩
Monday, October 8, 2018
Last hours
Friday, 14:08 CET. Non-descript office building.
Camera pans to MAN, late-30's, shabbily dressed, a T-shirt with perhaps some kind of faded music group thereon, seated at a table with an ernest expression.
Yes, sir.
Camera rotates at high speed to settle on FAT MAN, early-50's, even more shabbily dressed, wearing German open-toed SANDALS like an unbathed hippy in 1960's San Francisco, even ernester expression, anger swelling in his eyes, brow heavily furrowed, a single drop of sweat slowly dripping down his JOWL -- zoom to single bead slow-mo making its way down his DISGUSTING FACE.
And if I ever see you around these parts again, I will break your <unintelligible> neck.
Camera tracks the MAN back to his DESK -- a white, modern but very cheap, slab of petroleum-wood alloy covered in haphazardly scattered papers with a keyboard, mouse, and two large computer screens. The MAN sits down and starts typing. He deletes some photos and some other personal documents. He logs into the GIBSON Q3000 MEGA DEEP M TERRAHERTZ BRAIN MAINFRAME CQ49-ER and does some other computer gibberish. He then shuts the computer OFF and gets up to say some GOODBYES.
Camera approches and pans up to a BEAUTIFUL WOMAN who looks a little annoyed to have been bothered.
Yes?, she asks.
Today is my last day.
Do you work here?
MAN walks away and the camera shows the BEAUTIFUL WOMAN rolling her eyes and then -- incredulously!!! -- makes a kind of fake spitting motion but mistakenly (we imagine) some actual spittle comes out and flies on to the ground and it's pretty darn GROSS.
Camera cuts to a group of THREE GINORMOUS NERDS -- WE'RE TALKING UBER-GEEK-DWEEB-AND-SPAZZ KIND OF GUYS sitting around another CHEAP TABLE and they are arguing over which is the most powerful POKÉMON character. The MAN is awkwardly standing just outside of their little posse waiting for a break in the conversation presumably so he can say goodbye.
Bianca Pokémon double-crossed Shauna Pokémon in scene 917 of the Famicom SE re-release and caused 10x damage on...
MAN cuts in
Hey guys?
Who do you like better? Bianca Pokémon or Shauna Pokémon?
Umm... I guess Bianca?
You're an idiot. We're glad you're leaving.
Camera tracks the MAN down the hallway to the KITCHEN. There is a SANTA CLAUS sitting at the BAR drinking a COCA COLA and smoking a MARLBORO CIGARETTE while talking on a knock-off SMARTPHONE. SANTA looks ANNOYED.
Hey Santa?
Hold on, Santa mumbles into the phone. What do you want?
It's my last day. I'm just about to leave I guess. I wanted to say goodbye.
Listen, Kid, Mrs. Claus found some texts that I sent to Twirley, and...
Twirley?
Ya, the elf, and, well, she's a little pissed and I've gotta start smoothing things over so I don't really have time for...
Ok, no problem. See ya.
SANTA gives all his attention back to the phone.
It was one Christmas Eve, Baby!
Camera cuts to the MAN in the elevator and zooms into him pressing 0. He stands back, crosses his arms, and the elevator doors close.
Fade to black.
---
It was something like that.
Camera pans to MAN, late-30's, shabbily dressed, a T-shirt with perhaps some kind of faded music group thereon, seated at a table with an ernest expression.
Yes, sir.
Camera rotates at high speed to settle on FAT MAN, early-50's, even more shabbily dressed, wearing German open-toed SANDALS like an unbathed hippy in 1960's San Francisco, even ernester expression, anger swelling in his eyes, brow heavily furrowed, a single drop of sweat slowly dripping down his JOWL -- zoom to single bead slow-mo making its way down his DISGUSTING FACE.
And if I ever see you around these parts again, I will break your <unintelligible> neck.
Camera tracks the MAN back to his DESK -- a white, modern but very cheap, slab of petroleum-wood alloy covered in haphazardly scattered papers with a keyboard, mouse, and two large computer screens. The MAN sits down and starts typing. He deletes some photos and some other personal documents. He logs into the GIBSON Q3000 MEGA DEEP M TERRAHERTZ BRAIN MAINFRAME CQ49-ER and does some other computer gibberish. He then shuts the computer OFF and gets up to say some GOODBYES.
Camera approches and pans up to a BEAUTIFUL WOMAN who looks a little annoyed to have been bothered.
Yes?, she asks.
Today is my last day.
Do you work here?
MAN walks away and the camera shows the BEAUTIFUL WOMAN rolling her eyes and then -- incredulously!!! -- makes a kind of fake spitting motion but mistakenly (we imagine) some actual spittle comes out and flies on to the ground and it's pretty darn GROSS.
Camera cuts to a group of THREE GINORMOUS NERDS -- WE'RE TALKING UBER-GEEK-DWEEB-AND-SPAZZ KIND OF GUYS sitting around another CHEAP TABLE and they are arguing over which is the most powerful POKÉMON character. The MAN is awkwardly standing just outside of their little posse waiting for a break in the conversation presumably so he can say goodbye.
Bianca Pokémon double-crossed Shauna Pokémon in scene 917 of the Famicom SE re-release and caused 10x damage on...
MAN cuts in
Hey guys?
Who do you like better? Bianca Pokémon or Shauna Pokémon?
Umm... I guess Bianca?
You're an idiot. We're glad you're leaving.
Camera tracks the MAN down the hallway to the KITCHEN. There is a SANTA CLAUS sitting at the BAR drinking a COCA COLA and smoking a MARLBORO CIGARETTE while talking on a knock-off SMARTPHONE. SANTA looks ANNOYED.
Hey Santa?
Hold on, Santa mumbles into the phone. What do you want?
It's my last day. I'm just about to leave I guess. I wanted to say goodbye.
Listen, Kid, Mrs. Claus found some texts that I sent to Twirley, and...
Twirley?
Ya, the elf, and, well, she's a little pissed and I've gotta start smoothing things over so I don't really have time for...
Ok, no problem. See ya.
SANTA gives all his attention back to the phone.
It was one Christmas Eve, Baby!
Camera cuts to the MAN in the elevator and zooms into him pressing 0. He stands back, crosses his arms, and the elevator doors close.
Fade to black.
---
It was something like that.
Friday, September 7, 2018
Effective Five Year Munich Anniversary Celebrations for Beginners
You can choose to believe it or not, but God's honest truth is that just six days ago marked the Pemulis Family's five year anniversary of living here in the capital of the Southern Europe of Germany. Wow how time flies (to be perfectly non-banal about the whole thing). I can't really remember much about events or feelings that I had that go back further than about month ago or so (on a good day), so I made liberal use of the GWMD archives to try to get a sense of how we were feeling around this time all those years ago and it seems that we haven't really achieved what we aimed to do in choosing to move here. Namely: learn German. You'd think that after spending five whole years living in a place that you would start being able to speak and at the very least understand the language, but somehow it's actually possible to get by with the absolute minimum (i.e. knowing how to buy pretzels and beer and just nodding whenever a question is asked of you). Oh well. We have had some good times though. Let's look back on a handful of those times, now...
We are just a few short weeks away from the most wonderful time of the year in Bavaria. The Oktoberfest Lauf, of course. We have been enthusiastic participants in this beer festival-inspired race 4 of the 5 years that we've been here (the only off year was when our lazy sister/sister-in-law with a name inspired by a tasty breakfast fish was here and we didn't have the energy to take the train up to the Schleiss [as I call the town of Obserschleissheim where the race takes place]). But we will be back this year (I hope) to defend our titles and perhaps use it as a springboard, if you will, to the Munich Half Marathon which I've also participated in a number of times (3, to be exact) which takes place at the end of October. Let's see.
This might be a horrifying revelation to some anonymous reader out there, but we actually came shockingly close to abandoning this beer garden paradise (recently named the most livable city in the world) nearly two years ago. In the end, of course, we didn't, but one thing that came up during that time is that while we managed to visit all 4 corners of the French homeland during only 18 short months of residency, we hadn't really explored Germany at all (other than the greater Bavarian state) in (at that time) three and a half years. One major omission was that neither of us had ever been to Berlin. Can you imagine? Anyways, as loyal readers of the blog you know that we rectified that ugly little oversight just this past summer and since it was such a gem, let's say, I might even be back in the very near future. As a Donald Trump tweet might imply, stay tuned!
Here's a new topic that five years in Germany somehow led me to: California (aka, the Promised Land). If you ever even spent on the order of around 3 seconds or so somewhere within a 200 mile radius of my vicinity when I was a 16 year-old young man, you would know all too well about my California Dream[in]. But despite visiting places from Brazil to China to Northern Sweden and beyond, I've still never made it to my teenage imagined paradise. Well, all that glitters isn't gold (I know you've heard that story told) and with time the shimmer and shine in my mind died down and although I finally had a path to achieve the California Dream, Cali's pull receded and faded away (more than burned out) from my desires. But it never quite fully died.
And so here's an announcement that most likely anyone reading this already knows but you know how they say that nothing's official till it's on the GWMD? After five fruitful fun-filled years at Microsoft, I will be hanging up my Surface Book and starting a new journey as an autonomous-driving car engineer for the good guys in the ride-hailing industry at Lyft Level 5 Labs Munich (recently named the most attractive start-up to work for! Don't you just love these arbitrary click-bait lists?). Yes, we will still be based in Munich but I will spend my first 10 days or so of work on the sun-drenched / fog-covered coast of California's Bay Area at Lyft's headquarters in San Francisco where I'll listen to Third Eye Blind (I guess) and drink Fernet (for sure). By the way, did you know that the worst hotel room in all of San Francisco costs something like ten thousand a night?
Recent Helga news includes the fact that she has now spent two full days as a student in French Kindergarten. Reports suggest that Day One was successful while Day Two was not. We will update these developments as they happen.
The Austrian Pinelands, or, as some prefer, the Pinelands of Austria, is presumably back to "normal" now after the Pemulis family bid adieu two and a half weeks ago. One of the perks of living just South of the town of Unterföhring (or I guess anywhere around here really) is the proximity to the fine country of Austria (speaking principally about the land, I mean). Our vacation to the Austrian Pinelands was very enjoyable. Helga especially enjoyed swimming in the little pool, the big pool, and the outdoors pool (which doesn't get a size designation because there's only one pool outside) and we especially enjoyed not having to cook or cleanup for an entire week. I also got to try out my brand new trail running shoes and I think that the high altitude mountain air did my rapidly aging body good.
What does the future hold for GrenobleWMD? The Pemulis Family? The city of Munich? Self-driving cars? How will Pemulis react when he first steps off the plane into the streets of San Francisco? Will he be overcome with a case of a strain of Paris Syndrome? Will Helga survive the daily stresses of French Kindergarten? Will her German friends abandon her due to her cosmopolitan ways? Will there be a no-deal Brexit? Stay tuned to find out...
We are just a few short weeks away from the most wonderful time of the year in Bavaria. The Oktoberfest Lauf, of course. We have been enthusiastic participants in this beer festival-inspired race 4 of the 5 years that we've been here (the only off year was when our lazy sister/sister-in-law with a name inspired by a tasty breakfast fish was here and we didn't have the energy to take the train up to the Schleiss [as I call the town of Obserschleissheim where the race takes place]). But we will be back this year (I hope) to defend our titles and perhaps use it as a springboard, if you will, to the Munich Half Marathon which I've also participated in a number of times (3, to be exact) which takes place at the end of October. Let's see.
This might be a horrifying revelation to some anonymous reader out there, but we actually came shockingly close to abandoning this beer garden paradise (recently named the most livable city in the world) nearly two years ago. In the end, of course, we didn't, but one thing that came up during that time is that while we managed to visit all 4 corners of the French homeland during only 18 short months of residency, we hadn't really explored Germany at all (other than the greater Bavarian state) in (at that time) three and a half years. One major omission was that neither of us had ever been to Berlin. Can you imagine? Anyways, as loyal readers of the blog you know that we rectified that ugly little oversight just this past summer and since it was such a gem, let's say, I might even be back in the very near future. As a Donald Trump tweet might imply, stay tuned!
Here's a new topic that five years in Germany somehow led me to: California (aka, the Promised Land). If you ever even spent on the order of around 3 seconds or so somewhere within a 200 mile radius of my vicinity when I was a 16 year-old young man, you would know all too well about my California Dream[in]. But despite visiting places from Brazil to China to Northern Sweden and beyond, I've still never made it to my teenage imagined paradise. Well, all that glitters isn't gold (I know you've heard that story told) and with time the shimmer and shine in my mind died down and although I finally had a path to achieve the California Dream, Cali's pull receded and faded away (more than burned out) from my desires. But it never quite fully died.
And so here's an announcement that most likely anyone reading this already knows but you know how they say that nothing's official till it's on the GWMD? After five fruitful fun-filled years at Microsoft, I will be hanging up my Surface Book and starting a new journey as an autonomous-driving car engineer for the good guys in the ride-hailing industry at Lyft Level 5 Labs Munich (recently named the most attractive start-up to work for! Don't you just love these arbitrary click-bait lists?). Yes, we will still be based in Munich but I will spend my first 10 days or so of work on the sun-drenched / fog-covered coast of California's Bay Area at Lyft's headquarters in San Francisco where I'll listen to Third Eye Blind (I guess) and drink Fernet (for sure). By the way, did you know that the worst hotel room in all of San Francisco costs something like ten thousand a night?
Recent Helga news includes the fact that she has now spent two full days as a student in French Kindergarten. Reports suggest that Day One was successful while Day Two was not. We will update these developments as they happen.
The Austrian Pinelands, or, as some prefer, the Pinelands of Austria, is presumably back to "normal" now after the Pemulis family bid adieu two and a half weeks ago. One of the perks of living just South of the town of Unterföhring (or I guess anywhere around here really) is the proximity to the fine country of Austria (speaking principally about the land, I mean). Our vacation to the Austrian Pinelands was very enjoyable. Helga especially enjoyed swimming in the little pool, the big pool, and the outdoors pool (which doesn't get a size designation because there's only one pool outside) and we especially enjoyed not having to cook or cleanup for an entire week. I also got to try out my brand new trail running shoes and I think that the high altitude mountain air did my rapidly aging body good.
What does the future hold for GrenobleWMD? The Pemulis Family? The city of Munich? Self-driving cars? How will Pemulis react when he first steps off the plane into the streets of San Francisco? Will he be overcome with a case of a strain of Paris Syndrome? Will Helga survive the daily stresses of French Kindergarten? Will her German friends abandon her due to her cosmopolitan ways? Will there be a no-deal Brexit? Stay tuned to find out...
Saturday, September 1, 2018
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