Peace and Quiet in the Heart of the City

Note: like the previous post, this is another assignment for school, in blog post format. Enjoy!

The Living Innovation Zones (LIZ) program is initiative by the city of San Francisco to improve and iterate upon public space by better connecting it to the people and businesses nearby (SF…, n.d.). The program is designed to quickly adapt to rising needs, tackle urban design challenges creatively, and use space that currently goes unused (SF…, n.d.). In our research, my group and I visited several such installations. One, named Pause, challenges visitors to stop and take the time to think, but most people we saw passing by just enjoyed sitting on the benches. Another parklet, the Annie Street Plaza, was deserted when we visited; we imagined it might be more utilized on workdays, as a spot to have lunch outside of the nearby office buildings.

Even after several months in San Francisco, I have still not adjusted to how loud Market Street can be. Having lived in suburban towns for most of my life, the noise generated by the amount of pedestrians, not to mention the public and private transportation, is incredibly foreign to me. As I sauntered down Market, the inspiration for a quiet bubble struck me; what if people had a spot to sit down and enjoy a moment of silence as they make their way to work, or had the opportunity to collect their thoughts in peace before moving on with their day? Enter the 'quiet bubble':

Preliminary render of the proposed 'quiet bubble'

In order to design the bubble, I considered several constraints. It should not become an easy place for illicit activity to take place; therefore, the outer frame is built from glass, which is also very visually pleasing. Should the glass prove too weak, a metal reinforcement frame might be required. The semi-circular shape was chosen to help reduce noise on one side, and offer an economical use of space on the other, as we cannot take over the entire sidewalk. The bench was designed for comfort and simplicity – it should be a structure that welcomes the user for five to fifteen minutes at a time, so that many people can enjoy it. On the whole, I strove for a clean and simple design; visual parsimony, if you will.

When attempting to analyze the utility of such an installment, I began by considering the audience it would be for. My primary intended denizens are pedestrians who walk on Market Street to work, for lunch, or on their way home. It could also serve very well as a meeting or waiting point, as it is visually noticeable and offers the comfort of sitting. As this installment is designed to be placed on Market Street, it will certainly be used by members of the homeless community as well. I see that as a potential advantage; if it saves people from having to sleep outside in the rain, that is a very worthy use.

Proposed render on location at 1412 Market Street, San Francisco

The next step in assessing the utility would be to estimate how many people might choose to take advantage of the installation. A 2010 study by the San Francisco Planning Department found that approximately ten thousand people walk in each direction in the relevant area on Market on weekdays, with weekend figures being lower, approximately seven thousand people walking in each direction (Popper, 2010). If out of those, only one in one hundred decides to enjoy the bubble, for five minutes, we arrive at the bubble being occupied for:

(10,000 + 10,000 people) * (1/100 who would use it) * (5 minutes each) = 1000 minutes, or almost seventeen hours.

Weekend figures would be lower – approximately twelve hours. These estimates don’t account for any growth in the pedestrian traffic on Market street since 2010, which likely occurred. Moreover, 1412 Market Street is one of the least busy parts of the streets downtown – the area near Powell and Market, for example, features about twice the pedestrian traffic. Therefore, should the first such bubble prove successful, there is great expansion potential to other parts of Market Street.

Now that the collective utility of such a structure is established, I can examine the individual utility. The cost of using the bubble is in time alone; it is there, it is free to use, and I do not foresee any social stigma or cost from enjoying the bubble. On the other hand, there are many potential benefits. For a person with anxiety or crowd issues, having a small space to disconnect from the world momentarily might prove invaluable. Even without any special issues, having a place to focus or mentally prepare for a meeting or interview can be the difference between success or failure. Even without any specific purpose, it can simply be nice to take a break for a few minutes.

When discussing my proposal with my group, several new ideas came up. One was to make sure the bench is long enough to allow sleeping on, which I believe it is, but physical prototyping would be necessary to be sure. Another was about the noise permeability of the shape - with it being half-open, and without any active noise canceling, it might still allow too much noise to truly provide peace and quiet. In that scenario, the structure would have to be closed from the front, which would also necessitate a door. Some form of ventilation might also be required in that case; perhaps some vents that could be closed in the winter and opened in the summer. Should this proposal garner interest, I would be happy to render in these additional proposals, and begin evaluating this structure for integrity and its ability to reduce noise.

References:

Popper, A. (2010, March). Walking, Bicycling & Public Space on Market Street. Retrieved 8 November 2015, from http://www.bettermarketstreetsf.org/docs/MarketStreetReport.pdf

SF Mayor’s Office of Civic Innovation. (n.d.). What is a LIZ? | living innovation zones. Retrieved 8 November 2015, from http://www.sfliz.com/about/

Cultivating Culture: Uber vs. Lyft

Note: this was an assignment for a class, but as it was intended be written as a blog post, it might as well become one. Enjoy!

The service economy is ubiquitous. Need to get somewhere? Install Uber or Lyft and you’ll be on your way. Hungry? There are enough delivery services to use a different one every day of the week. Too lazy to do laundry or clean your apartment? Don’t worry, there’s an app for that. To differentiate themselves, service economy companies must either provide a superior product, cheaper prices, or build a unique culture around themselves. Through my experiences with Uber and Lyft, I will attempt to examine culture: how each company brands itself, why they chose so, and how those decisions affect the workers, who are the public faces of each company.

Uber is clearly the big brother to Lyft’s little brother act, and their websites provide powerful indications for how they carry themselves. Uber is all about professionalism, as their initial description on their websites claims, “Your ride, on demand. Transportation in minutes with the Uber app” (Uber, n.d.). Contrast that with Lyft’s statement: “Need a ride? Take Lyft for a welcoming, affordable, and memorable ride” (Lyft, n.d.). Uber strives to create an image of a professional chauffeur, who will be there whenever you might need him, and disappear afterwards. Lyft, on the other hand, tries to conjure images of calling your buddy at 2AM for a ride home from the bar. He’ll definitely be there, and will be happy to chat with you and ask how your night was. Uber have a newsroom (Uber, n.d.), while Lyft have a blog (Lyft, n.d.); the Lyft app is stylized in pink, while Uber is overwhelmingly black and white.

Chatting with drivers drives home the same notion. First and foremost, Lyft drivers appear to be much happier to talk! Some of them engage in conversation even without being prompted, behavior I found very rare with Uber drivers. Carlos estimates he was one of the first one hundred Lyft drivers in San Francisco, and while he used to drive for Uber as well, he stopped at some point. Lyft feels like a family to him: he mentions the friendly rivalry the “day walkers” have with the “nightcrawlers,” groups lunches in the middle of shifts, and a weekly Lyft driver happy hour. Daniel is a photographer, who drives at nights for supplementary income, or as he put it, “I drive so my girlfriend is less unhappy with me when I buy expensive photography equipment.” He mentioned that he too prefers driving Lyft, as passengers are nicer and more talkative. He says it’s simply more fun.

Lyft seek to differentiate themselves from uber by culture. As I found when examining the apps and websites, some of the culture stems from intentional decisions made by the two companies. Annuar, originally from Kazakhstan, drives for both, but notes that, “with Uber, I’m just another driver… for Lyft, I’m a friend.” Another former driver received a party pack from Lyft after reaching the one thousand ride milestone (Muender, 2014). Isn’t that awesome? However, some part of the culture also appears to be emergent. Annuar described it as a “pay it forward” culture: the first drivers were kind and friendly to the first passengers, who passed it on to their next drivers, and so on, even referencing the famous monkey learning experiment (which according to Maestripieri (2012), might not have occurred as famously described).

Annuar’s experience describes the network effects very clearly; a chain of drivers treating riders like friends, which causes these passengers to treat their next drivers similarly. Even with guidance from the company, this would never have worked without the cooperation of the drivers. The motivations on all sides are clear. For the drivers, work is fun when it doesn’t feel like work; driving friends around beats sitting in silence with strangers. Moreover, they probably get better tips, and and help build the Lyft brand. For the passengers, rides become enjoyable, rather than neutral. Technology obviously affects these interactions, as without it the drivers would be driving around like headless chickens, looking for someone to pick up. However, the effect does not have to be negative; Lyft provide a clear model for technology-fueled interactions can feel friendly and welcoming.

If Lyft’s culture is so superior, why does it lag far behind Uber? Uber is definitely better suited for those who prefer not to interact with strangers, or want to make use of the ride to think or work. Inertia is another powerful force; Uber came three years before Lyft, and made a very strong name for itself. Uber also offers a far wider range of services, particularly catering to more exclusive clientele: Lyft has no match for services such as Uber Select or Uber Black. Moreover, Uber allows calling regular taxis, for the more traditionally minded. Oh, and while the prices are similar, if there is a difference, Uber tends to be cheaper. Each category probably covers a significant amount of people; together, we can induce that they cover enough people to make Uber significantly farther reaching. Indeed, while both appear to be growing strong, Uber’s valuation is 27 times more than Lyft’s (Kelly, 2015). Some drivers also feel the financial power; Mohammad, who drives for both companies, mentioned that Uber is more profitable: “with Lyft I rarely leave the city, or have long drives. Uber often gives me longer trips, once I even took someone to Google, in Mountain View.”

For me, however, the culture of Lyft makes it a much nicer alternative. Beyond the good feeling of supporting the upstart (albeit a $3 billion one), riding a Lyft gives me more social utility – it just feels better. Annuar told me why he left Kazakhstan, and we bonded over our desire to work in software, but on a project with true meaning. Carlos gave each of us Lyft bandanas and a fantastic, fuzzy, pink Lyft mustache. Like a caring parent, Calvin made sure we got off from the right side of the car. Lyft succeeded in creating a culture that feels like they care, and for me that made the whole difference. 

Bibliography

Kelly, J. (2015, September 3). The Uber vs. Lyft War Has Been Won in Silicon Valley. Retrieved 26 October 2015, from http://www.vanityfair.com/news/2015/09/uber-vs-lyft-war-has-been-won

Lyft. (n.d.). A ride whenever you need one. Retrieved 26 October 2015, from https://www.lyft.com/

Lyft. (n.d.). Lyft Blog. Retrieved 26 October 2015, from http://blog.lyft.com/

Maestripieri Ph.D., D. (2012, March 20). What Monkeys Can Teach Us About Human Behavior: From Facts to Fiction. Retrieved 26 October 2015, from https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/games-primates-play/201203/what-monkeys-can-teach-us-about-human-behavior-facts-fiction

Muender, G. (2014, December 3). Uber vs. Lyft: A former driver compares the two services. Retrieved 26 October 2015, from https://pando.com/2014/12/03/uber-vs-lyft-a-former-driver-compares-the-two-services/

Uber. (n.d.). Uber. Retrieved 26 October 2015, from https://www.uber.com/

Uber. (n.d.). Uber News, Events, Partnerships, Product Updates and More. Retrieved 26 October 2015, from http://newsroom.uber.com/

Life-Changing Dilemma (thanks to the Minerva Schools)

A year ago, I was pretty sure I'll be starting to study in 2014 or 2015, something in the general vicinity of math / computer science / statistics, at one of Israel's public universities (Tel Aviv University or the Hebrew University in Jerusalem, in all likelihood). Eight months ago, I had decided I'm not going to study in 2014, and that I shall travel for a few months (or more) before starting to study in 2015. Three months ago, give or take, I registered to universities in Israel, adding the Technion to the list of schools I might attend. I had almost went back from my trip early to interview for the Technion's excellence program, until deciding I'd rather travel some more. Over the past few weeks, I had come rather close to deciding I will study at Hebrew U, and pursue some unholy mathematics and cognitive science dual-major program, probably augmented with several computer science classes. I had consulted with friends, and started to plan how I might lay out the coursework. Last night changed everything.

I had applied to the Minerva Schools back in late January, as I was applying to universities in Israel. I don't remember how I even came to hear about them; friends, if one of you remembers posting about it on Facebook or talking to me about it, I probably owe you a beer. Much to the amusement of Eyal, with whom I was volunteering at Torres del Paine at the time (more on that soon), I spent quite a significant amount of our rest periods from the mountain dealing with the application procedure. I had a fair amount of work to do, little time, and the internet connection in Puerto Natales was quite unreliable. Once I finished their highly unique evaluation process, I generally set it aside; I felt I somewhat bombed one of the assignments, and besides, it was such a long shot. 

I received their e-mail as I was on the subway here in Buenos Aires on my way to meet Gal, a friend from the army I'm traveling with. The mobile internet was quite shoddy (either it's a repeating theme, or my standards are too high), and we met and started cooking dinner, so the notification left my mind for a while. As we sat down to eat, I realized I still haven't fully checked it, and the wi-fi in his hostel proved adequate. I was floored. For the rest of the meal (and night, and most of today), I still didn't really believe I was accepted, and only now is the shock finally starting to wear out. With it comes the harder part: do I go?

Why not? The program I'm considering at Hebrew U is really attractive to me. I love mathematics, and the faculty at the Hebrew U is incredible, and I find the cognitive science program to be a very interesting supplement, a way to expose myself to some topics I'm quite intrigued by (decision making, neurophsiology, linguistics, etc.). The programs there are established, and I generally know what I'm getting myself into. Living in Jerusalem sounds like a fun change of environment: new city, new friends, new atmosphere, but close enough to my friends and family. I should still be able to play Ultimate Frisbee with my club in Israel, and take care of my knee, should things go awry with it again. Last (and certainly not least) is the financial aspect: universities in Israel are significantly cheaper (Minerva will end up costing me around $30,000 a year including tuition, room and board, travel, etc.), and I could find work during the last year (or two?) of my degree, should I decide I want or need to.

However, the Minerva program sounds quite amazing. I quite connect to the idea of trying to refine higher education, and do it differently (and hopefully better). Small classes, seminars, a focus on skills and motivation (rather than just theoretical knowledge), and the company of unique and very bright people. The concentration of Computational Sciences is right up my alley, and the course topics seem to be exactly what I'm going for. Besides, the opportunity to be a part of something new, live in a different city each semester or two, and explore the world, learn languages... I'm not sure I could turn it down. It would be a very interesting social experience, as I imagine I'll be on the oldest there. I'm not quite sure how I feel about that yet. Moving around so much might also make finding serious relationships and making deep connections harder, but I would not let that deter me from trying.

The last thing on my mind might be FOMO - fear of missing out. If I try and see I don't enjoy it, I will be a year older, somewhat poorer, but I could go back to school in Israel knowing I followed the wild dream. Should I never try, I'm afraid I might not be able to forgive myself. It would make any and every hardship in university in Israel even harder to swallow. Don't I owe it to myself to try?

The Strange Kid

The strange kid would walk around town with his parents, reading the numbers of license plates as they went by. As he does not posses a superhuman memory (and rather, there is nothing quite superhuman about him), he does not remember it for himself. His relatives all seem amused whenever they recall this story, or remind him that his favorite books used to be encyclopedias, or other non-fiction works. Only in retrospect did he realize he has never asked any of his elders how they felt about it. He imagined they were proud, or at least, happy to see his parents’ affinity to numbers continuing another generation. Indeed it did: his favorite road-trip games were puzzling riddles and learning arithmetic tricks.

Later in his childhood, he was sent to a gifted class for his fourth grade studies. While he generally quite enjoyed it (long morning drives aside), he left after a year, due to his inability to handle a weird social situation that occurred. In retrospect, he could see it as foreshadowing many other parts of his adolescence, and in the great ‘what-if’ game of life, who knows where he would have been had he stayed there. Then again, he was in fourth grade. What kind of emotional maturity could be expected of him?

The weird pre-teen found his home in video-games and sports, more than anything else. While the latter were fun, and he enjoyed the activity and competition, he immersed himself within the former. He could easily tell you far more about companions such as Heroes, Crash Bandicoot, or Diablo, than he would be able to recall about many of his friends. While he certainly had some of those, they diminished in both quality and quantity as he moved from elementary school to the purgatory that is middle school. Of relationships, or any precursor thereof, there is little to talk about. Unfortunately, he was closer to his books and consoles than to any girls.

The eccentric teenager and his family moved halfway across the world. Perhaps the most telling sign of his social ineptitude was that only in retrospect did he realize how difficult the move was; at the time, he was blissfully unaware. During his freshman year he found himself with a circle of friends, and somehow drifted apart from them within less than a year. His Friday nights were spent having dinner with his family, and perhaps another family of friends, and afterwards retiring to play video games or watch a movie. He was not troubled or upset by it; for the most part, he simply did not know there are alternatives.

Romantically, things were not any better. While he met and briefly dated an interesting and exciting girl during his first year abroad, he let her get away over a silly incident that spiraled out of control. The future was not brighter. As he lacked friends and was inexperienced with emotions, he never quite knew what to do with them. Some signs of affection scared him away; to others he clinged mercilessly, blowing anything and everything out of proportion. It took him the better part of high school to gain some semblance of confidence (and a very limited one at that, as he still had issues with taking off his shirt at the pool), but it was all too little, too late, and even when things materialized, he barely got to experience them. A member of his freshman year circle of friends admitted to having a crush on him, for a long while. Never in a million years would our shining beacon of social competence have guessed it.

The peculiar adolescent did not have a better way with friends, either. He always felt somewhat of an outsider, second-rate to any other friends of his few friends. He was not an easy person to like. Loud, arrogant, and not incredibly kind, his actions tended to alienate himself, rather than bring people closer. He involved himself in many activities, taking positions of leadership in one or two, but always feeling a little bit outside. His video-game habit was ever stronger, and during his few years of high school, he spent an absurd amount of time playing World of Warcraft. It was absurd enough to suck away time from other activities (not to mention his schoolwork), yet not enough to truly master it.

Similarly, he probed many sports, enjoying each of them, but never immersing himself enough to reach any notable achievementד. He lacked single-minded focus and dedication, powers he would only acquire a few years later, when medical circumstances left him no choice in the matter.  While he eventually landed on a peculiar sport one he grew to enjoy immensely, even there he did not do all he could to better himself in to, 

in retrospect

much to his chagrin. Similarly, only during his final year abroad did he finally make some new friends he felt comfortable with. As always, his timing was impeccable, as soon afterwards they all graduated high school, and he returned to his country of origin.

The strange kid, the weird pre-teen, the eccentric teenager, and the peculiar adolescent will always be a part of me. However, no longer are they who I am, or rather, I am no longer any of them. Things got even worse before they got better; but better they did get, and while the 2015 model is far from perfect, he is much improved, or at least, vastly different. The details of journey here, which I would have never been able to make alone, will come soon. While change has to start from within, there is no way I would have been able to grow and evolve as I have without the help of some very dear people.

This post was inspired by Arcade Fire and by one of my favorite questions in OkCupid: “Would you rather be normal or weird?”

Have Travel Dilemmas, Will Ponder

Sometimes it seems to me as if the reason I've gone to the other side of the world is to ponder topics near and dear to my heart. I have written about memory and death, and of emotions evoked by experiences I encounter here. Alas, lately I have been pondering something I would have loved to avoid: when and why shall I return home.

I have been gone from home for almost five months now. My family and I started this trip together, in Florida, the Caribbean, and New York City. After staying for another two weeks in New York, I left for Buenos Aires, and I have been exploring Chile and Argentina (and Antarctica) ever since late October. I am truly having the trip of my life, at least so far; I have no intentions of this being my last long-term trip. And yet, life holds its cards close to heart, so it may be I am never afforded such an opportunity again. I have seen nature in its glory; hiked mountains beyond mountains; met incredible people from every corner of the globe; ate the food, drank the wine, and experienced the life. I have also delved into emotional thinking (and writing) on levels I have never reached before at home, and I am truly glad I have given myself the opportunity to do so.

If I return home, it will be mostly due to an acknowledgment that real life, the one I left behind, comes first. I applied to universities in Israel, and barring any surprises, will be accepted to all three schools I'm considering going to. Should I choose the Hebrew University in Jerusalem, it would be to study a Mathematics and Cognitive Science double major. In the Technion in Haifa or Tel Aviv University, my major would be Mathematics and Statistics. In the latter two, I am trying my luck with specialty programs: Tel Aviv's Lautman interdisciplinary studies program, and the Technion's excellence program. The problem stems from the fact those two programs want to interview potential students; while I'm not keeping my hopes up for Lautman, I'm quite confident I will be invited for interviews for the Technion's program. The program has quite a few advantages: First and foremost, freedom to choose your own course of studies, picking and choosing from different faculties and ignoring prerequisites. There are also several workshops and programs for the students, and scholarships for tuition and dorms. Lautman is both similar and different, but as I am not nearly as confident about it, I will spare the details.

My studies next year are not the only reason to return home, but they are what triggered the dilemma. Should I return home in late April, I might also take another few weeks to travel in Europe with a friend (I considered it, but I doubt I will fly off on another wholly different trip, such as the far east) I could also resume playing Ultimate, perhaps even in time for Windmill Windup or the European Ultimate Championships, should my knee oblige. Lastly, there is the ever-hanging sword of fiscal responsibility. I certainly could afford traveling until September; however, that would leave my with significantly less money saved for my first year of university. Should I return, I will probably find a job until I start studying, and coupled with the fact I will not be traveling, will result in a significant chunk of money saved.

On the other hand, the main reason not to return, is travel! Returning early means leaving South America in early April, to spend a couple of weeks in California (where I have not set foot since graduating high school back in 2008), and perhaps stop somewhere else in the states, before flying home out of New York City. That leaves me with barely another month with which to explore Argentina and Chile - not nearly enough. I could see more of the south, and perhaps taste the culture of the central regions, and the majestic deserts of the north; but by far and by large, there will be quite a lot left to see.

Without any time limits, I would hitch-hike my way up the Caraterra Austral, stopping a few times to hike in a few recommend hot-spots. I could then explore the island of Chiloe, famed for its wooden buildings and phenomenal seafood, and go climbing and hiking near Bariloche. I would be able to partake in urban and cosmopolitan Chile, visiting Santiago and Valpariaso, and see the wineries of Mendoza. Next I should be able to meet with a good friend from home, and meet up to see the magnificent deserts of northern Chile and Argentina. Beyond that, there are a great many other things to see, places to visit, and mountains to trek. To the north looms Bolivia, and its vastly different lifestyle and nature. Beyond that, Peru, with many more mountain ranges that yearn to be thoroughly hiked, and the cultural magic of the Inca. Further yet, Ecuador, and the opportunity to visit another of nature's marvels, the Galapagos Islands.

Moreover, a longer trip would leave me with more time in the states - freeing me to spend a few weeks to a month in California (and perhaps even longer - John Muir Trail, anyone?), and then perhaps make my way up the west coast, to see Portland, Seattle, friends, and natural treasures, before making my way home in time from the school year. Essentially, the opportunity to make an amazing trip even more exciting and fulfilling.

To summarize: on one hand, university programs, ultimate, short term travel, and fiscal responsibility. On the other, the opportunity to see even more of this splendid world, continue enjoying its glory, and grow and evolve with it. Which one shall it be?

An Emotional Rollercoaster As a Function

I'm currently volunteering in Torres del Paine national park, in Chilean Patagonia (I might actually have just finished my time there, but that's a whole other matter). The first couple of days of the shift I just finished were a hectic mess. The type of shitstorm possibly only when hormones, emotions, the Arctic Monkeys, and character traits (or flaws) get mixed up.

Part I: Increasing / Concave Up (first derivative positive, second derivative positive)
Suggested listening: I Bet You Look Good On The Dance Floor

I met her on the first night of the ship, sitting outside in the cooking area in camp. I went over to chat with a couple of Americans I remembered from the check-in to the campsite, and she was there too. At some point, an hour or two later, travel plans were discussed, and I mentioned that once I'm done in the park I'll probably head up north to Calafate and Chalten, a few hours away on the other side of the border with Argentina. She said that's exactly where she wants to go, and was hoping to find someone else to hitch-hike there with, as she (understandably) felt iffy about doing it alone. We chatted about it for another while, and as she had split of from her friends and was in no hurry to leave, we agreed to talk about it more the next morning.

The next day and a half were quite blissful. As she set up her tents next to mine, we both realized it's only for appearance's sake, even of those appearances were intended for her subconscious. We spent much of those days together, and it was quite comfortable and easy. The physical part was great, but it felt a bit more than that. The conversation was just very open and honesty, and I told her things I feel most people don't know about me. It felt good.

In retrospect, here's potential misstep number one. I cared. I care easily. While I don't have a trouble with casual sex, or just hooking up, especially if it's been established as that's where we're going. On the other hand, I still care about a woman more after sleeping with her. I generally grow fond of women somewhat easily and carelessly, and allow myself to build houses of cards in my mind. I easily saw myself traveling with her for a week, or maybe even a month, and having a blast. I got excited. It wasn't the first time this has happened to me, and probably won't be the last. Honestly, it's not that I don't want to care. I'd rather care than be disconnected, and feel it's a huge part of being human, and being me. On the other hand, maybe I need to be more gradual or reserved about it. I can't say I'm sure.

I remember telling her that "it won't always be this fun and easy, but we should try to remember how this feels now, for when the going gets harder." Fore, meet shadow.

Part II: Increasing / Concave Down (first derivative positive, second derivative negative)
Suggested listening: Fluorescent Adolescent

The evening of the next day, two Israeli girls came by with Jungle Speed. As you've probably never heard of it, it's an addictively fast card game, based on pattern matching and quickness of hand. As they played, I came and went, as I was busy baking bread, of all things - apparently I'm not bad at it. I noticed she was pretty friendly, possible flirty, with another American who joined the card game.

Here comes my second error. I let jealousy rear its ugly head. Even at the moment, I could tell myself on how many levels that's absolutely absurd. I've only know this woman for two days - as intensive as they might be, two days are still forty-eight hours. Beyond that, she was being excited and bubbly and nice, which are some of the qualities that led me to like her at first place. Further, when I think about it rationally, I'm very much opposed to jealousy. I truly want to give an open (or perhaps even poly) relationship a try, both to see how I like it, and perhaps to learn to work through some of these faults of mine. I'm not sure I could or should be the be-all-end-all object of someone's desires, and feel I have enough emotion to sustain more than one relationship.

I caught myself feeling it, and getting a little bit more touchy-feely than I should have. Once I realized what I'm doing, I excused myself, and recomposed. I realized I'm being ridiculous, and noted in my head to talk to her about it tomorrow. I felt that with how comfortable and easy our conversation has been, maybe she could help me work through it, and call me out on my nonsense. (You could argue this was another mistake, and I should have dealt with it by myself, but I believe in sharing and dealing together.)

Later that night, the other park rangers and us played quite a bit of cards. We also might have not been entirely sober. After several rounds of 'come-mierda' (the local version of 'asshole', played with the Spanish cards), and more drinking of all kinds, I was getting ready to call it a night. I could blame my possible lack of sobriety, but I'd be giving myself the easy way out - I mentioned to her that I want to talk to her about something, and that she should remind me tomorrow. I imagine we can all see where this is going: she insisted I tell her tonight, I wasn't wise enough to insist otherwise, and I told her. She seemed very understanding, and said she did notice I was acting oddly earlier. She told me that we'll talk tomorrow, and I should go to sleep if I'm tired, and she'll be over soon.

Part III: Decreasing / Concave Down (first derivative negative, second derivative negative)
Suggested listening: Snap Out Of It

It rained all night.

I woke up in my tent around six in the morning, alone, with my glasses still on. I remembered that I read for a while after getting back in, with my light still on, as I thought she might not have a light, and it would help her find her way in. Naïve up until the last moment.

As I woke up, the range of options ran through my head. Did she sleep in her tent? But her sleeping bag was in mine. Did she end up crashing in the house? I hope she didn't sleep on the floor. But where did she sleep? I stopped dealing with that train of thought, but nonetheless didn't fall back asleep. An hour or so later she came in, and told me she slept in the bed with another one of the guys. And made out with him.

I can't say I was angry. I truly wasn't. I was hurt though. After pondering it for a while, I realized it was because it came exactly after I told her about my slight jealous streak. I showed a vulnerability, and instead of receiving support, I got the exact opposite. I'm very open and candid, apparently at times to a fault.

She took a walk, and so did I, end I ended up talking about it with one of the Israelis from the night before. The Israeli was very kind and listened, and gave some well-needed advice, until at some point she came back. We went off to talk. She was very, very sorry, and talked about how she hurts before she gets hurt, how she says she hates drama, but just created a load of it, how she felt we were just hooking up, and more... I listened, and I understood, especially when she kept talking about how crazy she is, and her sexual history... I was hurt, and understanding, but I wasn't angry. I tried to understand, and as awkward as it was, I never asked her to leave or disappear,.

I talked to the other rangers, and they implored me to just put it behind it and leave it be. I'm pretty sure they also didn't understand about how I was so un-angry about the whole thing; it was certainly not the Chilean way to handle it.

Part IV: Decreasing / Concave Up (first derivative positive, second derivative negative)
Suggested listening: 505

I guess I might be somewhat of an emotional masochist, as I still saw myself traveling with her afterwards. It would have never been what it could have been at first, but I still saw it as being fun. I certainly would have learned something about myself from it.

The days afterwards were increasingly less awkward, as eventually one of her original friends also made it and stuck around with us for a few days. Apparently she's not the only source of drama - he broke up with his girlfriend of two years on the trail, and left her and her two friends. We played cards, cooked together, and generally lived together for those few days, and at some point it became less and less awkward.

It's interesting that it didn't make me run, or hate her, or get vengeful. I'm happy about that about myself. I feel that if we each only got one chance in life, nothing could ever succeed, and that it she's still a very interesting person. Crazy, but interesting.

Addendum I
I'll probably write about it more separately, but I've worked very hard over the past few years to develop an inner locus of control. It suits me incredibly well when doing things by myself - I don't think I would have successfully rehabbed from two knee surgeries (another topic for another time) if I didn't fully and truly believe that enough hard work will get me through. With emotional matters, though, the line is finer, as to whether or not that's positive or negative. Rationally, I understand this isn't my fault, at least not wholly and entirely. On the other hand, I couldn't stop myself from thinking that maybe had I not had that jealous streak, or had I waited to talk about it, or had I not cared, who knows where we'd be. That's life, though, isn't it?

Maybe I'm hard on myself so other people don't have to be? I wish I knew.

Addendum II
Up until now, I wasn't sure I'll post it.  It's highly ridiculous and deeply personal, and exposes more character flaws than I entirely feel comfortable with. I do want to learn and grow from it, and I felt it was a good writing experience, so on it goes. A week later, I guess the best way to describe how I feel about it would be to paraphrase the ending of Ocean's Eleven: I'm not sad about it, but I'm sure as shit ain't happy about how it turned out. It is a rather ridiculous story though, and in retrospect quite hilarious, so at least we've got that going.

Falling in love with Isla Navarino

When I head out traveling, I heard I would run into places I'd simply fall in love with. No one seemed able to describe the sensation very clearly (akin perhaps to real love, which I can't say I'm sure I've ever experienced either). The quote by former supreme court justice Potter Stewart (which I generally love - the quote, not the justice) comes to mind: "I shall not today attempt further to define the kinds of material I understand to be embraced within that shorthand description [hard-core pornography]; and perhaps I could never succeed in intelligibly doing so. But I know it when I see it." Understandably, I hadn't much of a clue what they were talking about, and at times being quite cynical, I wasn't sure that I'd experience such a feeling. I thought it might be for more emotional, softer people. Well, I was wrong. I absolutely loved Isla Navarino.

Isla Navarino is a Chilean island, on the southern side of the Beagle Channel. If it's not Chile's southernmost inhabited island, it's certainly the southern-most one that's still reasonably easy to reach, accessible through public transportation both form Ushuaia (in Argentina) and Punta Arenas (in Chile). We arrived on a thirty-minute zodiac ride, followed by the most relaxed boarder control I've ever seen - quite literally a house in the middle of nowhere, where two families live, the man from one of whom checked our passports. After a short wait, we then took a van to the largest city of the island, a sprawling metropolis of all of two thousand people (about half of whom are members of the Chilean armada).

One of the reasons I loved the island has to do with little more than sheer luck. As we asked in the tourist information (a shockingly well-run affair for an island of this size) about hostels, explaining our preference as "the cheapest", we were given two options, One of them was a tiny bit closer and about $1 a night cheaper, so that's where we started. In a brilliant stroke of good fortune, that place happened to be my favorite hostel on the trip, at least so far. Refugio El Padrino is run by a lovely woman named Cecilia, who simply makes you feel like you've arrived to visit a long-lost aunt. She knows everyone by first-name basis, but also as "mi amigo de Israel." She starts every morning with a trip to the hostel, about two minutes from her house, to check on everyone, but generally matters are left to run on their own. Breakfast included eggs (already a real treat coming from a land where cereal and bread with manjar often qualify), and we were left to cook them as we liked. We were allowed to camp outside, access all of the facilities, and pay as much as we felt is appropriate.

Beyond all of that, it was the feeling she created among us that just made it such a home. The love she had for all of us made us feel as a family, and we treated each other as friends. Food was shared, as was beer, wine, or anything stronger that we happened to buy. Card games were played, as stories from the treks on the island and before were regaled. Christmas dinner (my first ever, in fact) was at her house, her family of four and fifteen hostel guests. She later threw an eighth birthday party for the place, essentially throwing a free barbecue for everyone. The lack of wi-fi probably also helped; internet on the island, as it turns out, only exists in four places: the museum, the library, the bar, and a restaurant. The first was especially appropriate, as it was about as rapid as what I had at home in the late 90's (hello, ISDN!).

Beyond all of that, the trekking was also phenomenal. The differences to where I'm currently spending time (Torres del Paine (TdP) national park) are simply astounding. We left for the trek with a booklet (supremely useful, and actually published by the state), a topographical map, and a compass, and still spent quite a bit of time wondering where the route goes and what they actually intended us to do. On the other hand, in TdP we had a map, but it was nary needed - the sheer amount of people walking the trails guided us quite well. Campsites were generally of the "previous hikers have found reasonably dry, reasonably flat areas, and there's water nearby." Camping in TdP felt like a five-star hotel, in comparison (albeit one with too many rules). The free campsites have toilets and organized cooking areas, while the paid ones have hot showers, stores, and some even have restaurants. In Isla Navarino, we'd run into ten or twenty people each hike. Over a four to five day hike, that is. In some places in Torres del Paine you could encounter that many in, oh, a few minutes. And we could have campfires. Campfires make everything better.

Nature there is simply wild. Raw. Primal. The views from the circuit itself are stunning, and the mountains are just gorgeous. Simply nothing man-made was to be seen, except for the occasional marking pylon, and one generally-un-maintained refugio (which was actually in quite a good condition as a French man has been living there for over a month when we visited). The weather was also quite harsh - we slogged through a day of on-and-off snow on one trek, and spent another day hiding in our tents from non-stop rain.

The island features two main treks, which diverge a day or so in. The famous of the two is the Dientes Circuit - anywhere between three and five days' worth of hiking, depending on your pace and the weather. The second is the trek to Lago Windhond and back. The Dientes Circuit was the more impressive of the two, for me, and the trail was slightly better, and especially less muddy. The mountain passes (out of five, the first two are shared) were more impressive, although maybe the island's best panoramic views, from Cerro Bertinelli, were only seen as part of the trek to Windhond. It would be quite possible to combine the two, and either do one longer circuit, or tack on the side-trip to Bertinelli from the Dientes. Either way - the hiking is stupendous. and is quite probably my favorite on the trip (thus far).

As for how falling in love with a place felt, well, I'm not quite sure I can describe it either. Something between how nice the people were, how marvelous the hiking was, and the atmosphere at the hostel I was staying at, just made me have love waking up there every morning I was there. That, and the wonderful people I was hiking with, is how I ended up spending almost three weeks somewhere most people spend about a week.

A word of advice: if you're ever heading over, give yourself a few days of leniency. You might want to wait for a better weather window, the boats might not be running due to high currents, or the flights might all be booked. It is, after all, the end of the world.

Untitled Thoughts About Death in December

Death has been on my mind lately. Allow me to say first and foremost: this is not a call for help. I do no wish to due, and I hope that it happens very far in the future, after I've lived a long and happy life. If I've made some sort of positive difference in the world, all the better. On the other hand, if this makes you wish to talk, for any reason whatsoever, I'd absolutely love to. Not merely because I love to talk about my writing; but as this is a topic better discussed than allowed to linger freely and ferment within one's mind.

As I write this, it is late January, but truth be told, death has been on my mind since December. December, month of Hanukkah (usually), Christmas, endings, beginnings, solstice (depending upon which hemisphere you happen to find yourself in), and New Year's Eve. Before I delve into why this month has formed a connection with death, I must admit I have been quite lucky. My nuclear family is all well, as well as all of my grandparents. Hell, one of them is still skiing at the age of eighty - if I'm half as nimble and youthful as he is at that age, I'll be a ridiculously happy man. On the other hand, both deaths I have been forced to deal with occurred around this time of year, forging the unhappy and unfortunate connection.

(A disclaimer: there will be some minimal detail of the manner of the deaths, as well as how I know the deceased. I will not use names. Some of you may have met one, or maybe even both. If for any reason you are troubled by anything here, please, tell me. I will edit and censor myself as necessary. I do not wish to offend anyone, and should it happen, I apologize in advance)

I met A very early on my military service. We served together in the same section, which ranged between twenty and thirty men and women, give or take. While I can't say we were particularly close, it's hard not to know someone in your section. His brilliance couldn't be doubted. He was a an extremely talented software engineer and architect, and for most of our acquaintance, he toiled away on a though and innovative project hampered be half-baked technology. On some level, the project died with him; while he was gone in a bang, the project died off in a whimper, but it was never the same without him.

Perhaps the only thing more pronounced about A than his talent was his cynical attitude. Yet, as dark and critical as he was, there was no sign A was going to take his own life. The act and the manner in which is was done shocked us all, and if the writing was on the wall, we didn't have the sense to read it. Those who were closer to A must have felt a far stronger sadness in their hearts - for whatever troubled him, I know not how much he shared. I can't claim to the most emphatic person I know, and yet, a terrible sadness struck me as well. How could I not know someone I interacted with daily, consulted with when I was stuck, or shared a snack with when hunger struck, had such demons within him.

In the aftermath, I first experienced the different manners in which people deal with death. Some took it head on, and preferred to talk about the sorrow and grief with those around. Others attempted to put it away, get back to work, and quarantine their pain to deal with by themselves. Other few dealt with it in a manner A himself might have, on some level, using dark humor, with hushed tones and sadness in their eyes. Myself, I can't honestly remember how I managed. I was far less emotional mature than I am now (which is saying something), and this may very well be the first time I sit to ponder this loss.

Up until this year, I have never missed the memorial service. As the years passed, it turned into somewhat of a somber reunion. While the context is undoubtedly awful, it is the only time I see many of my old colleagues from the section. Life moves on, as it always has and always will, and I feel that the ability to empower the memorial as a reunion of sorts is a testament to our strength, to adapt and grow. We do not forget, but nor do we linger.

(As an aside, I can't imagine anyone is surprised, but I'm the last of A's section colleagues to be in some sort of military service, other than our section head at the time, who currently in a military career. While other representatives from the unit certainly come, I felt that as someone who was and still is there, it's even more important for me to attend the memorial services, both for his family as well as for myself.)

I missed the memorial as I'm traveling to South America (which you almost certainly know if you happen to be reading this). In an odd and unusual twist of fate, I'm closer than I've ever been to where the second person I've known to die lost her life. I barely knew N, to be honest. We also met in the army, but while I spent close to a year in the same section with A, N was only around for a few months, and only on the same floor as I was - we never worked together at all. It was a very different sort of tragedy; from the little I knew her, N clearly loved life and all it had to offer, and she was eager to live, explore, and see the world. She perished in a terrible hiking accident, the details of which I don't exactly know and don't think are very relevant.

As I truly barely knew her, I can't quite say what drove me to go to the funeral. I imagine on some level it was the nature of the death, a life cut short; on another, it was a sense of duty, as my section was on the same floor as hers, and I felt that someone from our section must be there. Perhaps it was for the many people I know who knew her better, and were sure to be there. Most of all, it was the impression she made, and the tragedy of a life lost prematurely. I can't say the first death prepared me to deal with the second one, on no level. However, I was far more mature at the time, and knew how to deal with my and my friends' emotions better.

Like life itself, I truly can't say this post carries a meaning, a logical conclusion, or even really much of a point. However, realizing these deaths came close to each other on the calendar, and that within a month I might be at the same national park as N was, I felt I had to get my thoughts and emotions out there. I have no idea how I'll feel once I'm there, or how might I handle death the next time it strikes in my life. Be that as it may, I feel more mature and more prepared than I've ever been before, to the extent one can be to deal with this level of grief.

Once again, if this makes you want to talk, about anything, I'm all ears, and (figuratively, unless you're in Chilean Patagonia) here for you. If not with me, share your thoughts with someone else, or with a pen and paper. Don't let these thoughts crawl in your head unimpeded.

Thank you for reading.

Rest in peace, A and N.