The Red Sox just won the World Series for the 3rd time in the last 10 years. I was once 25 and of the belief that the Red Sox would never win the Series. My most enduring sports memory -- burned with a vengeance into my psyche -- I was 7 years old when I watched my hero cry uncontrollably as Game 7 slipped away to the Mets. Boggs believed in that team as much as my 7 year-old heart did.
It's been a half an hour and I've shared the joy of victory with a dozen friends and family. 30 minutes after the joy of victory and I'm overcome with the joy of deep sadness. Joyful in the recollection of great loss. My father was an unwavering Red Sox fan. There were many Sox fans around me growing up in Massachusetts. They were everywhere. They all believed the Sox would win the Series on March 1st and May 1st and often July 1st. And they all complained in August and sometimes September and the lot of them by October. But not my father. He always believed in the Sox. Just as he always believed that his eldest son could turn into a lockdown pitcher. Just like my meatballs over the center of the plate, the Sox always disappointed. They always proved the masses correct in dismissing them in the late summer or the fall.
And here we are. The Sox are the most decorated team of the last 10 years. And I'm joyous. I was relieved in 2004. So high I could barely find the ground in 2007. Joyously grounded in 2013. I miss him. I wish he was here to share this one with me. I think it's because I'm old enough to appreciate how fucking random sports is - the playoffs? This makes no sense. No sports commissioner has every taken a statistics course. I can't believe I thought as a kid that it meant something.
So the stats mean nothing. So it doesn't have to do with the best of the best. It means something. Nothing as tangible as we'd like it to mean: it means that you just so happened to be the last person standing. No fault of your own, thank you very much. But more than that, it means something for the generations. It means something because I'm a father. I hold my daughter and dream of my unborn son and think of what my father meant. Excising the details -- he changed the world for me -- and through every moment we had the Red Sox.
We had the Pats a little. But my father wasn't a football man. We never shared the Celtics. Though my father cared for basketball. Hockey was an afterthought. It may be the peoples' game in Canada, or maybe it once was, but it's been a well-to-do child's game in the States for a long while and I was never in danger of being one of those.
I wish I could have celebrated any of these with him. You would think 2004 the most of all. 86 years. His father. His father's father. They never knew what it meant to see the Sox win. But he and I did. Or we should have. '75 broke his heart. He and my mother married that year. They should have won that one. Not as much as '68. They deserved that one. But deserve has nothing to do with it. As we sports fans know. And as we God fans know. Sometimes it's your time. Sometimes it's not. His time came early. He missed the Sox win it all. I miss the hug we would have shared. Imagine the fucking hug! What an embrace it would have been! Alas. It wasn't our time.
But my sports time has rolled around. And I'll share this one with my brother and my uncles and these friends of mine. And I'll love every last moment of it. And I'll whisper, in the quiet moments, of the father I would have shared this with. And he'll enjoy this with me, if that's what the afterlife holds. Or I'll enjoy it, with him, if that's what the afterlife holds.
Once again, God, eternity, and the meaning of life resonate through a Red Sox victory! This one's for you Dewey. This one's for you Boggs. This one's for you Freddy. And, of course, this one's for all the fathers and sons and mothers and brothers wherever they may be who gave a part of themselves to care about a team as though themselves. God bless our fathers who never felt this success. May they feel it through their sons' success. That's all they every wanted.
Wednesday, October 30, 2013
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
The Death of an Icon
Interesting term that, icon. Ancient religious roots. Full of power. And mystery. Maybe icon isn't used with the same depth it once had. Icon of Rock n'Roll. Icon of Punk. Icon of the underground. We've come to use the word as a synonym for a person who embodies a concept. What is that in comparison to a Saint who has come to embody the Limitless Love of the Creator?
Lou Reed is an icon of rock. Lou Reed is an icon of punk. Lou Reed is an icon of the Underground. We look at those old pictures of him in tight jeans, a black t-shirt, a leather jacket and shades and think "man, that's rock n' roll." And maybe that means music and clubs and girls and drugs. And maybe that means some halcyon age when rock n' roll was pure.
But the ancient meaning remains. We put his picture on the wall. We put some musician's poster on our wall, anyway. And we feel something more than just music. We feel a better way to live. Their images remind us of a better place than the one we're living in. And that's what an icon was always supposed to do. Icons help us. They intercede on our behalf. They offer to help us find that better place. At least they make it seem possible.
I didn't know Lou Reed, but I'll miss him. I'll see his picture, as I have seen it many times in the last few days, and I'll miss him. I feel as I imagine the plaintive feel when they turn to their icons: the world feels an emptier place for the absence of the person represented there, but, too, their image carries the hope of a better place.
When I think of Lou Reed, I'll think of Berlin and New York - the places more than the albums - he embodied those two cities for me through his music, through a few snippets of film. I'll think of transvestites. I'll think of the front row of some outdoor arena on the outskirts of Rome and a little smile from the man himself when I laughed at "two whores sucked his nipples while he came on their feet." I'll think of the roar of a thousand Italians when he struck the first chord of Dirty Boulevard. And I'll think of Baton Rouge...and of sixteen and a crisp, green football field.
I was sixteen when I bought my first Lou Reed record. I bought it in the spring, on a whim. Long before I heard - or heard of - the Velvet Underground, I listened to that record. It played on a loop through the summer. I fell in love while that record played.
So I see an image of Lou Reed and I think of Love and Perfection and the possibilities of limitless happiness. He was an Icon. He is an icon.
God bless Lou.
Lou Reed is an icon of rock. Lou Reed is an icon of punk. Lou Reed is an icon of the Underground. We look at those old pictures of him in tight jeans, a black t-shirt, a leather jacket and shades and think "man, that's rock n' roll." And maybe that means music and clubs and girls and drugs. And maybe that means some halcyon age when rock n' roll was pure.
But the ancient meaning remains. We put his picture on the wall. We put some musician's poster on our wall, anyway. And we feel something more than just music. We feel a better way to live. Their images remind us of a better place than the one we're living in. And that's what an icon was always supposed to do. Icons help us. They intercede on our behalf. They offer to help us find that better place. At least they make it seem possible.
I didn't know Lou Reed, but I'll miss him. I'll see his picture, as I have seen it many times in the last few days, and I'll miss him. I feel as I imagine the plaintive feel when they turn to their icons: the world feels an emptier place for the absence of the person represented there, but, too, their image carries the hope of a better place.
When I think of Lou Reed, I'll think of Berlin and New York - the places more than the albums - he embodied those two cities for me through his music, through a few snippets of film. I'll think of transvestites. I'll think of the front row of some outdoor arena on the outskirts of Rome and a little smile from the man himself when I laughed at "two whores sucked his nipples while he came on their feet." I'll think of the roar of a thousand Italians when he struck the first chord of Dirty Boulevard. And I'll think of Baton Rouge...and of sixteen and a crisp, green football field.
I was sixteen when I bought my first Lou Reed record. I bought it in the spring, on a whim. Long before I heard - or heard of - the Velvet Underground, I listened to that record. It played on a loop through the summer. I fell in love while that record played.
So I see an image of Lou Reed and I think of Love and Perfection and the possibilities of limitless happiness. He was an Icon. He is an icon.
God bless Lou.
Friday, November 26, 2010
Well, it's been a while... part 2
Hmm. So this is becoming a trend. Sorry about that. Life keeps getting in the way, I guess. More things to catch up on. Took a trip to Medellin and Sante Fe. Took another trip to Paipa and Villa de Leyva. Alissa has given two more Spanish language presentations. We've had a couple of visitors (our friend Mike and Alissa's dad) - and while they were here we had a dinner party with some friends. We also went to a friends play in Spanish by for of and in Bogota's most's notorious neighborhood. Much to discuss. Happy thanksgiving everyone (if you're still checking in on my delinquent blog...)!!
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Catching Up: Davis Cup, Colombia v. US
Warning: Sports heavy content and blogger's rant lead below post (scroll down to get to the match and the Colombian flavor).
It was nearly a eon ago now, but I went to see Colombia host the U.S. in a plan in game to the World Group stage. For those of you that are unfamiliar, the Davis Cup has 3 stages. The minnows and the middleweights of the world play in Regional knockout stages to get into the World Group playoff. Usually the winners of the knockout stages are countries with middling players (think India or Israel). The World Group playoff involves the knockout stage winners playing against teams from the World Group who lost in the first round. The World Group is the top 8 teams in the world who didn't lose in the first round of the previous year's World Group and the winners of the previous year's playoffs.
So in early 2010 Colombia beat Canada to get to the playoffs. The US lost to Serbia in the first round and thus had to travel to travel to Colombia in September 2010. Bummer for them, good for me.
The thing about Davis Cup that makes this all possible is that World Ranking has only to do with the matchup. It has nothing to do with who is the host of the tie (that's tennis talk for match). The team that gets to host is randomly chosen for each tie. Which is why the US was in this situation to begin with. They've had some bad luck. The other team keeps getting the choice of ground. Serbia chose clay and they beat the US on clay. If the US had hosted, the match would be on hardcourt and the US probably would have won.
So the US, with 4 players in the top 25 and the top doubles team in the world, has to travel to Serbia and play of clay. They lose. Then they lose the coin flip again and suddenly have to travel to Colombia and, of course, play on clay. Reaching into the analogy book, this match is a bit like having the NBA finals all in one city. Imagine the Lakers having to play the Thunder 5 times in Oklahoma. They lose a close one 3-2. But because they lost they have to play in to the NBA the next year. So they travel to play Spartak Moscow, only the Muscovites choose the surface. So they play on grass to take advantage of the Lakers' knee problems.
As you can imagine, this presents the US with problems almost every year. And if they were to lose this match, they would fall down into the Regional stage, which, continuing the analogy, would be like the Lakers having to play a season in the Spanish League as a result of losing the match to Spartak Moscow. It's a bit ridiculous.
Of course this could be solved if the US could find even one decent player on clay. They can't. They're awful on clay. So every single country that hosts them chooses clay. And it's especially funny because even the other countries that are awful on clay (like Australia) play the US on clay because the US is that bad on clay. Awful. Laughable. Like watching a young child learning to ice-skate. So, what to do? They could continue down this pathetic path. Hoping and praying that they get lucky and host a bunch a matches and Andy Roddick then goes on the tear of his life (like in 2007, when the US last won). Or perhaps instead of creating a generation of Roddick clones they could teach a few kids how to actually play on clay. From my tone, you can guess which I'd choose. So get your heads out of your bums USA Tennis and start teaching some kids to be clay-court specialists and save the team from this continued embarrassment!
By the way, I only blame USA Tennis. They have some serious problems. US Tennis is a mess. Pat McEnroe is doing a lot to try and save it; I hope he succeeds. And by the way, I don't hold any of this against Andy. He's a great player and deserves a tremendous amount of credit for a pretty successful career. The trouble is that his is not a game to emulate. And that's all USA Tennis seems to be able to do. He has a very one dimensional game (hard serve, big forehand). That's not good. What sets him apart from the rest of the rabble USA Tennis produces with only hard serves and big forehands is his heart. The guy has guts. He's got chutzpah spilling out his ears. I love him for it. But you can't teach that. And if you don't have his balls, you shouldn't play his style. But that seems to be the best thing that USA Tennis can come up with (and yes, I blame Bollettieri too, as I would guess Maria Sharapova does at this point too).
Onto match day. Of course, Colombia chose to host on clay. They normally play uptown at a hard-court surface, but chose to play for the first time at the Bullfighting ring. This was the first time the ring had hosted tennis (but of course, because you always play the US on clay, the only country in the world with a scouting report this easy). But good for me again, because the ring is only a couple of blocks from my apartment (I can see it right now, out my window).
Colombian's are always late to things. They affectionately call it Colombian time. If you have a meeting at 9 - don't even bother showing up until 9:30. Your meeting won't start until 9:45 or 10. Again, good for me, because it was general seating and my friend and I garnered seats at half-court about 15 rows up or so (or as I like to call them, perfect tennis seats, because I'm not a courtside guy. I like to watch the action from the best angle, not the closest one). The stadium didn't even get rocking until the second set, but they made up for it in the next 3 sets.
Mardy Fish, the US #1 on for this tie, played his ass off. He fell down a set but then won the next two. And after dropping the 4th, played a determined 5th. I'm not a huge fan of Mr. Fish (I actually had hoped for him to be benched for the tie - shows what I know. The guy gutted it out and single-handedly willed the US to victory). The match was quite the thriller. Nearly every game went to deuce. Both guys played with guts (and with tons of unforced errors - this was not a display of technical skill) and Mr. Fish earned and held up a 5th set break.
The crowd was fantastic. A good sports crowd. Not negative, but emotionally supportive of their own guys. Huge cheers went up with every point won by the home side. Flags, whistles, cheers, songs. The whole great crowd playbook. It was quite the spectacle. It resembled in many ways the atmosphere of the World Cup. The difference was, of course, that instead of watching as a neutral, here I was cheering for my country in hostile territory. And it was still great to behold. I found myself wanting Colombia to lose by only that much, so as to get the victory and get to take in the crowd as much as possible, too. In the end that's what I got. At least out of the first match. The Colombians and I were exhausted after it was over.
The second match was poor, to say the least, from the American's standpoint. Sam Querry, whom I like, was nothing short of awful. His only weapon, his serve, is impressive as hell. Several of him bombs set the crowd off gasping and oohing. They and I had never seen the like. And may not again for a long time. Big, thunderous bolts off his racket. Unfortunately for Mr. Querry his first serve percentage was not 100% and thus he crashed out to a meek straight set loss. Great for crowd watching. They were phenomenal. And even more enthusiastic for the second match. Passionate, loud, beautiful. Even with defeat I had a blast. Mr. Fish's win helped.
The US's great strength is their doubles. They rarely drop a match. So in a best of 5 - 4 singles and a doubles - all the US has to do, usually, is split the singles. So I went away happy. And so did the Colombians. More than a few people stopped me to say it's 1-1 and anybody's tie. The next day the US did win the doubles, with, you guessed it, Mr. Fish leading the way. And then to complete the tie of his career Mr. Fish gutted out another 5 setter, this time 8-6 in that 5th. My hat off as well to Santiago Giraldo, the best Colombian player, and, with another break or two, the man who may well have played Colombia into the World Group.
A final note on the crowd. As you may have surmised from this and my World Cup posts, I'm all for a certain kind of nationalism. The kind like after this match, when people shake hands and take pictures with the fans of the other team. Wish them the best of luck. The Colombians of this match, much like the Algerian or South African fans, were gracious and good-spirited and it was a pleasure to watch the match with them. I wish them the best of luck in the next year. I hope they make it back to the playoff, with a different result (unless they meet the US again, that is).
It was nearly a eon ago now, but I went to see Colombia host the U.S. in a plan in game to the World Group stage. For those of you that are unfamiliar, the Davis Cup has 3 stages. The minnows and the middleweights of the world play in Regional knockout stages to get into the World Group playoff. Usually the winners of the knockout stages are countries with middling players (think India or Israel). The World Group playoff involves the knockout stage winners playing against teams from the World Group who lost in the first round. The World Group is the top 8 teams in the world who didn't lose in the first round of the previous year's World Group and the winners of the previous year's playoffs.
So in early 2010 Colombia beat Canada to get to the playoffs. The US lost to Serbia in the first round and thus had to travel to travel to Colombia in September 2010. Bummer for them, good for me.
The thing about Davis Cup that makes this all possible is that World Ranking has only to do with the matchup. It has nothing to do with who is the host of the tie (that's tennis talk for match). The team that gets to host is randomly chosen for each tie. Which is why the US was in this situation to begin with. They've had some bad luck. The other team keeps getting the choice of ground. Serbia chose clay and they beat the US on clay. If the US had hosted, the match would be on hardcourt and the US probably would have won.
So the US, with 4 players in the top 25 and the top doubles team in the world, has to travel to Serbia and play of clay. They lose. Then they lose the coin flip again and suddenly have to travel to Colombia and, of course, play on clay. Reaching into the analogy book, this match is a bit like having the NBA finals all in one city. Imagine the Lakers having to play the Thunder 5 times in Oklahoma. They lose a close one 3-2. But because they lost they have to play in to the NBA the next year. So they travel to play Spartak Moscow, only the Muscovites choose the surface. So they play on grass to take advantage of the Lakers' knee problems.
As you can imagine, this presents the US with problems almost every year. And if they were to lose this match, they would fall down into the Regional stage, which, continuing the analogy, would be like the Lakers having to play a season in the Spanish League as a result of losing the match to Spartak Moscow. It's a bit ridiculous.
Of course this could be solved if the US could find even one decent player on clay. They can't. They're awful on clay. So every single country that hosts them chooses clay. And it's especially funny because even the other countries that are awful on clay (like Australia) play the US on clay because the US is that bad on clay. Awful. Laughable. Like watching a young child learning to ice-skate. So, what to do? They could continue down this pathetic path. Hoping and praying that they get lucky and host a bunch a matches and Andy Roddick then goes on the tear of his life (like in 2007, when the US last won). Or perhaps instead of creating a generation of Roddick clones they could teach a few kids how to actually play on clay. From my tone, you can guess which I'd choose. So get your heads out of your bums USA Tennis and start teaching some kids to be clay-court specialists and save the team from this continued embarrassment!
By the way, I only blame USA Tennis. They have some serious problems. US Tennis is a mess. Pat McEnroe is doing a lot to try and save it; I hope he succeeds. And by the way, I don't hold any of this against Andy. He's a great player and deserves a tremendous amount of credit for a pretty successful career. The trouble is that his is not a game to emulate. And that's all USA Tennis seems to be able to do. He has a very one dimensional game (hard serve, big forehand). That's not good. What sets him apart from the rest of the rabble USA Tennis produces with only hard serves and big forehands is his heart. The guy has guts. He's got chutzpah spilling out his ears. I love him for it. But you can't teach that. And if you don't have his balls, you shouldn't play his style. But that seems to be the best thing that USA Tennis can come up with (and yes, I blame Bollettieri too, as I would guess Maria Sharapova does at this point too).
Onto match day. Of course, Colombia chose to host on clay. They normally play uptown at a hard-court surface, but chose to play for the first time at the Bullfighting ring. This was the first time the ring had hosted tennis (but of course, because you always play the US on clay, the only country in the world with a scouting report this easy). But good for me again, because the ring is only a couple of blocks from my apartment (I can see it right now, out my window).
Colombian's are always late to things. They affectionately call it Colombian time. If you have a meeting at 9 - don't even bother showing up until 9:30. Your meeting won't start until 9:45 or 10. Again, good for me, because it was general seating and my friend and I garnered seats at half-court about 15 rows up or so (or as I like to call them, perfect tennis seats, because I'm not a courtside guy. I like to watch the action from the best angle, not the closest one). The stadium didn't even get rocking until the second set, but they made up for it in the next 3 sets.
Mardy Fish, the US #1 on for this tie, played his ass off. He fell down a set but then won the next two. And after dropping the 4th, played a determined 5th. I'm not a huge fan of Mr. Fish (I actually had hoped for him to be benched for the tie - shows what I know. The guy gutted it out and single-handedly willed the US to victory). The match was quite the thriller. Nearly every game went to deuce. Both guys played with guts (and with tons of unforced errors - this was not a display of technical skill) and Mr. Fish earned and held up a 5th set break.
The crowd was fantastic. A good sports crowd. Not negative, but emotionally supportive of their own guys. Huge cheers went up with every point won by the home side. Flags, whistles, cheers, songs. The whole great crowd playbook. It was quite the spectacle. It resembled in many ways the atmosphere of the World Cup. The difference was, of course, that instead of watching as a neutral, here I was cheering for my country in hostile territory. And it was still great to behold. I found myself wanting Colombia to lose by only that much, so as to get the victory and get to take in the crowd as much as possible, too. In the end that's what I got. At least out of the first match. The Colombians and I were exhausted after it was over.
The second match was poor, to say the least, from the American's standpoint. Sam Querry, whom I like, was nothing short of awful. His only weapon, his serve, is impressive as hell. Several of him bombs set the crowd off gasping and oohing. They and I had never seen the like. And may not again for a long time. Big, thunderous bolts off his racket. Unfortunately for Mr. Querry his first serve percentage was not 100% and thus he crashed out to a meek straight set loss. Great for crowd watching. They were phenomenal. And even more enthusiastic for the second match. Passionate, loud, beautiful. Even with defeat I had a blast. Mr. Fish's win helped.
The US's great strength is their doubles. They rarely drop a match. So in a best of 5 - 4 singles and a doubles - all the US has to do, usually, is split the singles. So I went away happy. And so did the Colombians. More than a few people stopped me to say it's 1-1 and anybody's tie. The next day the US did win the doubles, with, you guessed it, Mr. Fish leading the way. And then to complete the tie of his career Mr. Fish gutted out another 5 setter, this time 8-6 in that 5th. My hat off as well to Santiago Giraldo, the best Colombian player, and, with another break or two, the man who may well have played Colombia into the World Group.
A final note on the crowd. As you may have surmised from this and my World Cup posts, I'm all for a certain kind of nationalism. The kind like after this match, when people shake hands and take pictures with the fans of the other team. Wish them the best of luck. The Colombians of this match, much like the Algerian or South African fans, were gracious and good-spirited and it was a pleasure to watch the match with them. I wish them the best of luck in the next year. I hope they make it back to the playoff, with a different result (unless they meet the US again, that is).
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
A Guest Post, from an Anonymous Reporter
So on Monday, I heard that I might have to be involved with a presentation on Thursday (10/21). I was told I would hear more details soon, but none came. On Wednesday I go in to school to give class and the first exam of the semester. We'll have class from 6-8, and an exam from 8-9. At 4:15 pm I get a phone call from one of the organizers of the event asking if I'll be attending the event at 7pm and will I be presenting? It's really important. The director of international exchange of all of Colombia will be there. I say, oh, I didn't know about it. I have class. It's really important, she tells me again. Ok, I guess I can move things around.
So my colleague spends 2 hours calling all the students to cancel the exam and reschedule with the students because this is that important. So I rush home to change. I send out a quick apology email to all the students. I arrive at 6:45. I'm the first one. I see a poster on the wall in the lobby which announced a Fair of International Education with China. They turn out to be the invited country to this event. The event is on the terrace. It's quite beautiful. It's on the 8th floor and it overlooks the whole city. The terrace is decorated with Chinese artifacts -- fans, lanterns, a steaming fish bowl. Very pretty. They had Chinese taffy too.
Guests start arriving, some colleagues, etc. No one has any idea exactly what this event is supposed to be. Thank God for the free wine. Around 7:30, 7:45 they start with introductions. The director of the University gives a 5-minute speech about how this is an important University of which 80% of students are from the lowest economic classes of the city. It's a nice talk. Then the organizer of the program comes out and speaks about how international education is a way to help out these students. We're thinking this is what this is about. He talks for about 30 minutes.
So, he then proceeds to show slides. Each slide is a student from another country that came here as part of an exchange. He really likes Italians. The first 15 were all students from Italy. He showed each slide and talked about each one.
He starts another slide show. But now our guy is getting worked up because the music that he had choreographed to the slides got off track. So now he spends 15 minutes arguing with the tech guy trying to get the music synced to the slides. After 20 minutes he gives up. But I've got food and wine, so I'm happy.
He moves on to the slides about all the students from Colombia studying abroad (without music). He's showing pictures of them with Mickey Mouse, etc.
We get a little break -- they needed another 15 minutes to get the next part up and running -- and then it's on to the videos. So he shows us three videos made by Spanish exchange students studying in Colombia. All three of them are taken in the same place. On the terrace where we're all sitting. It's them telling possible students why Colombia is great. I'm not sure why they showed that to us... The program director pulls each of the students up to the front and has them stand next to the video screen while the videos are playing. Each just stands there, on the same terrace, a day later, with a dull smile on his face. I'm not sure why they didn't just present their ideas live.
After that, an artist comes up and proceeds to give an academic presentation on the theory behind his art, which is the connection between Mathematics and Art. Cool topic, but what does it have to do with international education exchange?
My colleague wonders why fine artists can't read an audience. Someone asks them about the theory behind their art and they can't stop, even if all of the audience is walking out. He goes screen by screen through a slideshow for 20 minutes explaining his art. But he's finally about to wrap up... when the director stops him and says he thinks it would be interesting to explain the final slide in more detail. Another 15 minutes later... we're down to half the original crowd. At one point people who seem to know him had enough and slipped out.
So my colleagues and I are wondering when our presentation is going to come... Turns out they forgot about us. That was the end of the presentation. They give out some Chinese coins for luck. Some shy student appears and bids us all goodnight.
But not before the presentation of one of the artist's original works to the cousin of the program director, not to the Chinese ambassador or any other number of foreign guests there for the international exchange fair, but to the cousin of the program director for decorating the terrace. They had spent all of their Saturday buying the decorations. As a final farewell, the wife of the cousin wraps things up with a brief speech on Yin and Yang and the nature of the universe. Even turning to the Chinese ambassador to say "You know."
And that was that. A program that defied logic and explanation. Good thing I canceled my class. But who can complain about free wine and good cheese?
So my colleague spends 2 hours calling all the students to cancel the exam and reschedule with the students because this is that important. So I rush home to change. I send out a quick apology email to all the students. I arrive at 6:45. I'm the first one. I see a poster on the wall in the lobby which announced a Fair of International Education with China. They turn out to be the invited country to this event. The event is on the terrace. It's quite beautiful. It's on the 8th floor and it overlooks the whole city. The terrace is decorated with Chinese artifacts -- fans, lanterns, a steaming fish bowl. Very pretty. They had Chinese taffy too.
Guests start arriving, some colleagues, etc. No one has any idea exactly what this event is supposed to be. Thank God for the free wine. Around 7:30, 7:45 they start with introductions. The director of the University gives a 5-minute speech about how this is an important University of which 80% of students are from the lowest economic classes of the city. It's a nice talk. Then the organizer of the program comes out and speaks about how international education is a way to help out these students. We're thinking this is what this is about. He talks for about 30 minutes.
So, he then proceeds to show slides. Each slide is a student from another country that came here as part of an exchange. He really likes Italians. The first 15 were all students from Italy. He showed each slide and talked about each one.
He starts another slide show. But now our guy is getting worked up because the music that he had choreographed to the slides got off track. So now he spends 15 minutes arguing with the tech guy trying to get the music synced to the slides. After 20 minutes he gives up. But I've got food and wine, so I'm happy.
He moves on to the slides about all the students from Colombia studying abroad (without music). He's showing pictures of them with Mickey Mouse, etc.
We get a little break -- they needed another 15 minutes to get the next part up and running -- and then it's on to the videos. So he shows us three videos made by Spanish exchange students studying in Colombia. All three of them are taken in the same place. On the terrace where we're all sitting. It's them telling possible students why Colombia is great. I'm not sure why they showed that to us... The program director pulls each of the students up to the front and has them stand next to the video screen while the videos are playing. Each just stands there, on the same terrace, a day later, with a dull smile on his face. I'm not sure why they didn't just present their ideas live.
After that, an artist comes up and proceeds to give an academic presentation on the theory behind his art, which is the connection between Mathematics and Art. Cool topic, but what does it have to do with international education exchange?
My colleague wonders why fine artists can't read an audience. Someone asks them about the theory behind their art and they can't stop, even if all of the audience is walking out. He goes screen by screen through a slideshow for 20 minutes explaining his art. But he's finally about to wrap up... when the director stops him and says he thinks it would be interesting to explain the final slide in more detail. Another 15 minutes later... we're down to half the original crowd. At one point people who seem to know him had enough and slipped out.
So my colleagues and I are wondering when our presentation is going to come... Turns out they forgot about us. That was the end of the presentation. They give out some Chinese coins for luck. Some shy student appears and bids us all goodnight.
But not before the presentation of one of the artist's original works to the cousin of the program director, not to the Chinese ambassador or any other number of foreign guests there for the international exchange fair, but to the cousin of the program director for decorating the terrace. They had spent all of their Saturday buying the decorations. As a final farewell, the wife of the cousin wraps things up with a brief speech on Yin and Yang and the nature of the universe. Even turning to the Chinese ambassador to say "You know."
And that was that. A program that defied logic and explanation. Good thing I canceled my class. But who can complain about free wine and good cheese?
Monday, October 18, 2010
Well, it's been a while...
As many of you know, I voyaged home to Massachusetts to greet my new niece. She's now one month and two days old. She's a tiny little thing, taking after her father. No really. He was a little guy who looked not unlike the kid from Home Alone until high school when he grew into the body of a down lineman. But she's a precious little thing and, most importantly, she seems to like her uncle. So, so far so good on that front.
It was a busy few weeks. Lot's of family goings on and of course I spent as much time with her as I could. And then I've been under the weather for a little while. So it adds up and to a month away. Yikes. I've got a few things to blog about too. The weekend before I went I walked the 5 blocks to the Bull-Fighting stadium to see Colombia host the U.S. in the Davis Cup. I went to Colombia's version of Cochella (or Bonaroo, if you prefer) headlined by Green Day. We discovered that the main street 10 blocks away turns into an all-night fair every Friday night. I've become an English teacher and a Spanish student. And Alissa gave her first presention in Spanish. So it's been a rather full month...
It was a busy few weeks. Lot's of family goings on and of course I spent as much time with her as I could. And then I've been under the weather for a little while. So it adds up and to a month away. Yikes. I've got a few things to blog about too. The weekend before I went I walked the 5 blocks to the Bull-Fighting stadium to see Colombia host the U.S. in the Davis Cup. I went to Colombia's version of Cochella (or Bonaroo, if you prefer) headlined by Green Day. We discovered that the main street 10 blocks away turns into an all-night fair every Friday night. I've become an English teacher and a Spanish student. And Alissa gave her first presention in Spanish. So it's been a rather full month...
Monday, September 13, 2010
On the lighter side...
Lis and I recently discovered a ping-pong club just up the road. I love this city. To be trite about it, it's like a shaggy but loveable stray dog, sometimes you worry about fleas and germs, but mostly it's just fun times and love. That extended metaphor is so bad I'm going to leave it there. It needs to be an example for others....
The ping-pong club is a dream of mine come true. Most of you know this already, but we had a ping-pong table in our last apartment. I loved it. I miss it. But not really so much anymore. Now I have this club. We went last Friday afternoon and it was bustling with the afterwork crowd. They have games to occupy you while you wait for a table. They have the cheapest beer in town. I'm in love. Come visit so we can play.
This club is a great example of why I love Bogota. There are so many random things here tucked into every corner and crevasse. I'm sure there are hundreds more cool things like this to discover. And I'm sure I'll discover them in the same way. Walking back from a meeting, taking a different route home. There are so many routes and so many streets. I'm excited about the treasures out there waiting to be discovered...
The ping-pong club is a dream of mine come true. Most of you know this already, but we had a ping-pong table in our last apartment. I loved it. I miss it. But not really so much anymore. Now I have this club. We went last Friday afternoon and it was bustling with the afterwork crowd. They have games to occupy you while you wait for a table. They have the cheapest beer in town. I'm in love. Come visit so we can play.
This club is a great example of why I love Bogota. There are so many random things here tucked into every corner and crevasse. I'm sure there are hundreds more cool things like this to discover. And I'm sure I'll discover them in the same way. Walking back from a meeting, taking a different route home. There are so many routes and so many streets. I'm excited about the treasures out there waiting to be discovered...
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