Posts Tagged ‘beer’

Travel for Real: How I’m Gonna Go to Europe and Maybe Back – Part 6

Saturday, November 28th, 2009

I’m leaving Dunedin today.

This is Air New Zealand style! This is arguably the friendliest national carrier you’ll ever fly. My propeller flight is one hour late thus they put me into a jet half an hour early. I’m just about to board the Boeing that takes me back to Christchurch. It may actually take a while, as this aircraft has just landed and passengers are still coming through to the terminal. The weather has been desperately strange during these less than 24 hours in town: 27 Celsius yesterday afternoon and 7 at night, sunny in patches today but very cold Antarctic wind. (…)

dunedin aport

On board now: This plane again is packed, many youngsters, exchange students from Otago University, I guess. And only three little kids all of them crying and all of them seated just behind me. I had taken window seats with my booking, but yesterday a farmer’s wife sat on mine and I surrendered the room with a view. (…) Again I had my Nokia switched off for takeoff. We are flying over the Pacific and all I can see is deep blue water.

over blue pacific

We are announced that the weather in Christchurch is pretty bad: wintry drizzle. This is supposed to be summer. At least in Dunedin I could walk for a couple of hours and I took these photos of houses, churches, the old railway station and the new Chinese Gardens, where I enjoyed a cup of oblong tea.

dnd hses

dnd wd start 6 wth

dnd cth a wd

dnd station

dnd station 2 train

ch gr 1

ch gr 3 wd

ch gr 4 stones

ch gr 2 wlk

ch gr 2 oolong

Now, as we approach Christchurch, we’ve caught up with the clouds. This flight is so short for the 737-300, that it actually climbs to 25,000 feet and it then starts descending straight away. This time all flight attendants are quite nice, but a blonde in particular is very easy to look at (sorry, no picture). I should have booked an aisle seat. The service is minimal: a choice of packed snacks and a glass of mineral water but that’s more than enough for about 35 minutes in the plane. Four our peace of mind, the captain told us not to worry this flight is running late, it’s just a replacement for the one that broke down (because it was replacing one that had broken down?). Then the captain goes on and on about what we can see outside (if you are on the western side you can). Then we land. No sign of drizzle. Just a quick note: today Air New Zealand commemorated 30 years since its only crash involving passengers. This was on Mount Erebus, in Antarctica.

Erebus

Soon I’ll have to carry on with the English girl’s story.

How to Make More Money Than One Could Spend

Sunday, August 2nd, 2009

My understanding of finance is profound to say the least.

OneMillionDollars

I have two personal loans (the maturity terms of which I can’t remember), five bank accounts (none for savings), a few hire purchases (with irrelevant interest rates) yet only four plastic cards and just three internet banking usernames (all of them with my dog’s name as password to keep things simple).

Add to this that all my life I’ve been paid above average and now, close to retirement, my only asset is a 14 foot boat Vaila I hardly ever use.

VailaLaunchCSE

Yet my understanding of finance is profound to say the least. Or maybe I should call this business? The two terms confuse me a bit. What about you? Need a clear picture?*

I have this magnificent theory which may or not be original, but it is a very sound theory indeed (if you ask me):

  1. Thinks tend to evolve unless they get destroyed.
  2. The more people are interested in things to evolve, the more things will.
  3. The previous affirmation is only valid if the people involved are rich.
  4. When things evolve too much quantity-wise, they change one gear up and start evolving in quality.
  5. The concepts of “quality” and “quantity” should not be understood outside their context.
  6. The respective context is too narrow to fit this theory but our understanding of it diminishes exponentially the more we get entangled in it and this could help.
  7. When we rich the top limit of our comprehension, things become brittle and that’s when they may just be destroyed.
  8. Brocken things usually lead to other things.
  9. The previous statement should not be analyzed for how true or false it is, but for how long it takes to ignore it until your mistake becomes obvious.
  10. Every time when something is destroyed in the process of evolution and you don’t know what will replace it, I tell you: money.

This theory is rather general. In particular, things work pretty smoothly: take something and try to turn it into something a bit better, brake it and you may have to pay to buy another one, even older or not so good, a bit used and dented or just pure rubbish. Somebody’s making the buck and it’s not you, mate!

AustraliaFromSpace

If you want to be on the money-gathering side of the society, you need to be on the Dark Side of the Earth (not the book, not the movie!). There’s always been a bunch of guys who prevented history from running fluently. Do you want to be one of them? Of course they won’t accept you in their inner ranks. What do you do then? You outsmart them and you keep always one step ahead of them. This way they’ll think you are one of them from the future and they’ll accept you without further ado.

If they want to invent the vinyl record, you boldly move and invent the CD!

RedVinyl

If they want to fly to the Moon, you just go there and leave the Union Jack behind or whatever flag might be handy.

NASAflag

If they want to invent the recession, you just go a few years ahead and start selling residential real estate.

FarmLand

OK, OK, hold on! What do we have to do now in order to make a quick buck?

I’m sorry, there’s nothing like a quick buck unless you already have a few $$$ lying around doing nothing. But there’s a perfectly good solution if you want to break stuff and replace it with something that will make you rich!

Think of how society and economy went through the material stage: if my flint tool is not as cool as yours, I’ll wait for the right moment to crack your skull and grab the technological advance from you, as you had created it by mistake anyway and I was smarter and therefore deserved it.

flinttool

In the energetic stage: I don’t really care you’re working on the peaceful use of that stuff, I need it to make a bigger bomb first and we’ll see how we go! Please send any comments in writing to the UN, thank you very much!

Mururoa

In the informational stage (the end of which we’re seeing about now in parts of the our planet where you can read this mockopost, therefore having gained enough to make sure that in other parts they are still dealing with the previous two stages) things are a bit more subtle and the bucks accumulate much quicker: you think you’re smart for charging me for using your sound track? You know what? I charge you back for using my network for asking me to pay you for using your stuff, which, by the way, I’m also sharing with my subscribers.

LovelyFractralSorry

Now, if you picture this exponential evolution towards destruction, the nest step should be easy. Some can already see signs of its coming**.  You just need to jump on board!

What will happen next?

There’s nothing like a free lunch.

da-vinci-the-last-supper

After about fifteen years of using the Internet on a large and narrow, public and secret scale, the grip of the big blue chip guys on information is tightening. The same webpage looks different if you are in your country or if you are browsing while visiting mine. I cannot see some things that are public in the USA and Canada. In China my website may look better when the PC is unplugged. If I browse the Pentagon library online, I’m a hacker. If CIA browses my fishing photos, it’s war against terror. Free stuff is less and less available but if you really need it free, you can sign up for some services that will gather your private data as a bonus. Phone companies don’t talk to you anymore and don’t even give you so many options to press numbers and the # key in the end. They give you less choice outside their recognized pattern. You may have to utter a world and the voice recognition system may place you in the right line. You may have to have an eye scan to enter your own office. Your dog carries a microchip. Your mobile phone gives your position away to the network operator, brand manufacturer, police, social services, Google and God knows to how many other close friends of yours that are yet to be introduced to you. If you use your loyalty card at the mall, they’ll know you bought beer and socks, which may lead to the conclusion that you are a bushman for the first time in town, getting dressed for a party. It is cool to buy this combination again. It will prove yourself a good citizen of the modern society and they’ll send you the right offers in your mail, email, text message, chat window, web browser, you name it! But if you later go to the shop and change the sock colour choice, you may be in the draw to win a Mediterranean Cruise by subscribing to a gay magazine they have just sent to you when they browesed YOU and found you reading this!

Great stuff! Sugar Big Brother!

Yet this is just what’s now! Today millions can still cook like Jamie Oliver and still feel originally happy. Today you can still see a glimpse of Posh Beckham’s breasts (if any) on the first page of ten hundred thousand paparazzi magazines in 40 languages. Today when you go to work you still get paid and in your sleep you still believe you’re free to do whatever you want, although in the morning you may not be bothered starting it all. Thank the corporate guys who look after you for this degree of freedom. Thank them for letting you express your unique identity by accepting your money in exchange for one of the only few millions of Manchester United T-shirts they print just for you. Thank them for inventing the bug for which the antidote will be soon available from their factories. They are fighting to still make their buck and in the process you get some choice, maybe not the real choice, but at least the smell of it, the sound or even the touch of what the choice could have been.

VrilStuff

Picture a not so distant future when corporate decisions as to how to improve your bodily life and reduce your intellectual one are not any more made by humans. Imagine that the robot does not only control the amount of fat your margarine must have but also how many people like or unlike you must live and breed in your Google Maps quadrant. Imagine you having to pay to see your mother’s photo kindly saved in an Internet Cloud as local storage would become so expensive and unreliable. Imagine going to bed *** with your friend and having the light in your room changing from red to green and the music (you cannot control) from army brass band to Debussy depending on one of you being closer or not to the best ovulation moment.

Wanna make money? Heaps of money? Wanna become so rich you’d never be able to spend your fortune? There’s still room: join the machine army! Money will become irrelevant then ‘cause first you’ve had the last generation of rich guys killed in the process.

Bloody hell! The next step is to farm human brains for hard labour and give those lovely robots some time to recharge.

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* The only think finance and business have in common is that both work mainly with humans (and in some special cases maybe with aliens that are alienated enough to understand these concepts) and are completely inexistent for the representatives of flora and fauna of this and other planets.

**Evolutionary stages have always coexisted: bronze, fire, knowledge.

*** Isaac Asimov long ago postulated that this simple act may become futile.

Due to a Technical Problem Which Occured with Our Hosting Services, All Posts and Comments Written in the Last Fortnight Were Lost

Sunday, July 12th, 2009

This Is Our Last Saved Mockopost:

HOW TO LIVE A HAPPY LIFE

Life is something nobody’s particularly good at. Do you want proof? Nobody’s survived it yet!

There might be people who think that Bill Gates, with his billions, is happier than some friends of mine who live with three kids on a single medium wage and have not had a holiday since they got married.  Yet they may not even want to compare themselves with the poor villagers in Ethiopia you may see sometimes on TV. Who’s happier? Does money make you happy? If not, what is? Is it health? Is it love? Is it seeing your children grow? Is it the sunset over your corn fields? Your late model Mercedes?  The fact that you just took a painkiller for that toothache? Your football team winning the series? Political freedom? The three pounds you lost last month with the vegetarian diet? Your cake that didn’t get burned when you were on the phone? Your favourite piece of Bach? The fish you caught to feed your village? Finding the true name of God? The discrete readjusting of your tight underwear? Is it a combination of those and of many more?

To understand happiness, you need to seek it. To seek it, you must not have it. Once you get hold of it, it becomes irrelevant. One may say that happiness is living in the present, that fine, immaterial membrane between the past and the future, carpe diem. I don’t think so. How many times have you wished you weren’t there and then doing whatever you had to do and prayed that nightmare would end and you would wake up to the real, much better present?

To make it easier, let’s assume that time did not exist the linear way we are inclined to accept it*. Let’s just suppose that you don’t live on a straight line with many moments from birth to death, like beds on a string. Let’s say today is not any newer that that rainy day when your oxen cart got stuck in mud three winters ago.  In my scenario today is not happening any earlier than they day of your funeral. Imagine there’s no universal time; you shouldn’t care about it anyway when you’re not around, because you are either long dead or yet unborn. The only good use for the past is to learn from it, rather from what we’ve been told by other guys the past might have looked like and this is very subjective stuff to say the least (think of the Bible as a story with many authors and many opinionated scribes working on it ages after things actually happened).

If the time wasn’t linear, all that’s important for you is the collection of moments that affect you directly, the ones that you have or will have a memory of or the ones who will mark you even without you remembering them. Think of a game the purpose of which is to score as many points as possible. The points are these little moments of your life. But how do you actually score? What’s the difference between a point you win and a point you loose? I’m no philosopher or anything like that but I think it’s intention. If you’re doing what you wanted to do and not what you have to because you were told so or because circumstances forced you, than you should be bloody happy and stop whinging about happiness, meaning of life and other crap!

I’ll give you an example of how to live life to the fullest, in happiness, as many moments as possible: It’s late in the afternoon. I just came home from work. I am hungry. My wife is asleep. She doesn’t work. The kitchen sink is full of dishes. The potatoes need peeling, cutting and boiling; the meat needs to be unwrapped, cut and fried. I shall empty the dish washer, fill it with dirty stuff, clean the kitchen throughout, dig the potatoes in the vegetable garden, drive about two miles to buy the meat, come back, peel the potatoes, wash them, put them in the pot, deal with the meat, cook it all and arrange it on a couple of large plates. It this then my intention to gently wake up my wife and present her with this bedside dinner.

Live like this and you’ll be forever happy!

(Disclaimer: some terms, quantities and usage of products and services described in this article may vary.)

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*Even in our simplistic way of understanding time, we should admit that it is not constantly linear. One day in a baby’s life, if the baby was born five days ago, means 20%, which is a huge proportion and could not be neglected. Yet a day in my life, now that I am about 100 years old, accounts for only around 0.00003%; I lived about 36 thousands of them, so each day means less; also think of think of hours, minutes, seconds. For a kid aged five getting that very toy today is more important than it is for you to get a pay rise the following financial year.

Sulina, Mon Amour

Thursday, July 2nd, 2009

When I first started, this website could only be accessed via my New Zealand website (angle.co.nz) and in my first one or two mockoposts I nearly lied about fishing (see archive options to your right). Since we went global, I kind of neglected the jolly reality that some people out there may be not unlike myself at all: they may enjoy a good fishing tale, be it true or not, be it theirs or mine (the latter are the best).

*

Long time ago, on another continent, I used to do TV stories and even docmentaries.  I directed, produced and even shot some of them in a lonly place where you can only go by boat: Sulina, in the Danube Delta. I hope I could help then some people who deserved more than they were getting. Sulina was my amour, my dream holiday destination at a time when I could choose any other far more cnfortable spot on this wee planet. I did not invent the “Sulina, mon amour” slogan and by no means am I writing a commercial story here.

There were good and bad times but all folk I met in Sulina were cool plus: Nenea Tudor, Dori the Captain, Cristi the Wild One and many others. One day I was virtually kidnapped in the street and forced, together with my cameraman, to join the local celebration of their church. On that day of August the 30th, 1996, I was so stuffed with food that it may have been the only party whenI was left with no room to drink a mere pint of beer. I also met in Sulina a nightmare of a guy guy who was to me (and still is to boat loads of amateurs) a fishing guru when it comes to carp and other coarse fresh water fish.

That’s the stern of his dinghy (don’t think he’s trawling, no, no, he’s not even drifting, he would be beached with his bow and the rods;  lines and rigs would be virtually still):

Rodpod la pupa

This is how he camps in the only European aquatic unspoiled paradise I’ve ever known, the Danube Delta, a magic place not far away from Sulina – for those of you who have Google Maps, it’s cheaper to get there Internet way. Don’t even think that the mist is made of Russian vodka and that the blokes in those tents might be asleep in the early hours of the morning – no way: they are all fishing on the other side:

Asa mi-am petrecut concediul

Yet the only one who ever catches real wild carp is my mate Mircea, whom I haven’t seen in ten years and whom I miss like those Mustad hooks I couldn’t find after we last went fishing together… or were they Gamakatsu and he was the one who couldn’t find them?

Crap 4 Kg

The best part is how to actually cook this modest carp, but this is another story.

*

Should you want to have a look around and catch a fish or two, give me a buzz and I may put you onto my mate. But you’ll never be taken to the best spots Sulina has to offer. An old pirate saying goes: “If we told you, we would have to kill you.” The only secret I can share with you is a glimpse of what’s happening at the stern of our boat and that may explain why you won’t catch much at all:

SulinaTease

Execpt for one, I swear for the innocent copyright of all the photos on this mockopost: they belong to Mircea. I only censored the ones with the bigger…carps.

Ten years on and 12,000 miles away, Sulina remains mon amour.