Crisp, clear air of accomplishment

View from the end of Bayswater Street, Vancouver

I started my Sunday morning early, 6:30 am, after working until 2 the night before. I was compiling the business plan body for my team. We had a hard 8:30 Monday morning deadline and we had a long way to go. When it was all done, we stood around Kinkos at 1:30 am making ridiculous jokes at just about everything. We had worked all day and managed to finish before the absolute last minute. We gave each other hugs and high fives in the street and headed home for a good night of sleep.

I woke to the same amazing weather we have being having all week, but it looked different. It was below freezing and very clear. I managed to catch the sunset tonight as I made my way home from the store. I ran to grab my camera fearing that I would miss it. Of course, the photo does not completely show the hue that first caught my eye, but you get the idea. In my mood, the rosy pink light was the perfect sign. A sign that I had nearly finished my first term of b-school.

Vancouver wow-factor

Vancouver has a wow-factor that I am still getting used to. When I ride my bike to campus, I take the road that runs along the water. The views continue along the whole four mile ride. First, I pass through an older neighborhood with large houses from the turn of the century. Next, I ride along the beach. From the road, I can see the downtown, the cargo ships in the bay, and the 1,000 foot plus high mountains to the north of the city. Already on some of the higher ones, there is snow on the tops. Still further along, I climb through a forest of big leaf maples. They are turning colors, of course. Yellows and browns, mostly. I reach my destination, campus, at the top of the hill, with its eccentric collection of modern architectures. The return trip is what produces the audible sounds of amazement from me. As I fly down the hill on my bike, my eyes try to take it all in…the water, the leaves, the mountains, the boats, the beach, and the cityscape. I hope that I will be able to remain as open to the beauty here over time, but I suspect that my senses will start to consider it all just normal soon.

Lost in MBA dream land

I woke at 3 am the other day to a clear memory of a dream. At least it seemed clear at the time. My friend had been encouraging me to write down my dreams, so I got out of bed and turned on the light. I found a pen and a pad and scratched out these words:

I called Weiyu [one of my teammates from my MBA class] to say that I would be late for our meeting. I tried to walk to to the meeting location from where I was. It felt like New York City or another large city. As I walked I watched a garbage man work with a garbage truck. It was stopping traffic and had a broken lifter arm. I walked away and quickly became lost. I was not sure where I was or where I was going. The city scape was very industrial. It becomes an area with a large busy road. As I approach the road, a line of police cars speed by. I tried to get out of their way. Once the police cars pass, I tried to cross the busy street  but got caught in the middle between the two directions of traffic. A single police car stopped. It was a different type of cop that I just saw pass, perhaps from a different district or division. He helped me to cross safely by stopping traffic. I had some sort of cart with me. It was something I found back in the industry part of the city. I thought that it would help people see me as I cross.

The cop continued to help and accompany me on foot on the other side of the road. He showed me a ‘ruin’ on the side of the road. It was behind a billboard. I could not see what he was talking about. So I went behind the sign and down a little bank off the side of the road. There were trees and other plants that the cop thought were evidence of earlier inhabitants. Specifically, there is an avocado tree. I thought that it did not make sense because it was the east coast. I saw poison ivy. I almost said out loud poison oak instead. I returned to the side of the road and asked for directions from the cop. He was nice and enthusiastic, but I still do not have an exact address. I gave up and I walked on towards what I thought was the old industrial part of city. The road turned into a bike path–an old industrial path. There was a cop check point. I walked through and they did not say anything. It was uphill.

Next, I was in a car following signs for a leasing area. It turned out to be an area for leasing tractor trailers. I tried to turn the car around but someone appraochs the car before I finished the turn. The parking area has a dirt surface.

And that’s where it ends. As I read through my notes from the middle of the night, I am surprised about some of the details–industrial bike path and poison oak instead of poison ivy. But what is interesting are the repeated appearance of the cops and how they are benign or in one case, they appear to be helpful–get across the road. The city scape is somewhat familiar to me, especially at the beginning of the dream. I feel that I almost knew it, maybe from a previous dream. Of course, the most salient part of the dream is being lost. Once I finish my call to Weiyu, I forget what I am doing and where I am going.

Despite the apparent anxiety that this dream suggests, I am feeling quite good about school. We just started our fourth week in a 12 week first term, so I have a fair bit of experience in the program now. After I started turning in assignments, I realized that the work is not that hard and that I could do it. It is mostly a matter of staying on top of the work so that it does not build up. In that regard, I am proud that I have made much improvement since undergrad. I still procrastinate, but not nearly as much. And I start assignments some time ahead so that the night before is not a last minute scrabble. This feels good.

The work is not hard. There are some new vocabulary and some number crunching, but these are not big challenges. Still, it is satisfying to me that I did not study this stuff before. This means that the subjects are mostly new to me. For those who did an undergrad degree in business, they are finding the introductory curriculum to be a basic review of the subjects. At least, I feel, I am getting a completely new set of skills. Plus, I don’t tend to enjoy formal education if I did not feel that there is some challenge and new information.

MBA: first days impressions

I finished the first part of the introductory summer course to Sauder MBA program at University of British Columbia today. It lasted just four days and we covered basic math skills that we would need as background for the forthcoming regular course. What made the basic review of high school tolerable was the teaching. Brian Graham, our professor, usually teaches the undergrad business students. This week, however, he taught our group of 90 prospective MBA students an intensive four-day math review class.

I guess his undergrad teaching experience explains why he has cultivated a good sense of humor and a large set of stories–indeed, he seemed to have one for any possible topic–most were even entertaining. He had examples for the Americans in the class, such as how to convert Celsius to Fahrenheit. He seemed a little disappointed that there were only three of us in this class. It felt a little awkward to be called out and provided with special help in how to convert from a metric that the rest of the world has stopped using.

I was amazed how much of basic calculus I did not remember. I was also surprised by how much I was interested in the finance examples, especially where we calculated the future value and present value of various cash flows. These were completely new to me, while the other subjects, such as algebra and calculus were suppose to be review for me. Either way, I did OK, while not trying too hard.

Perhaps the most enjoyable aspect of the program is how international it is. The students are from all over the world and there are not many from any single country, except for Canada. But even here, the Canadians do not dominate the class. They might be a majority, but if so, it is very close. Roughly the other fifty percent are made up of three Mexicans, two or three Americans (I am not sure the third one exists yet because I have not met him or her), one German, two Swiss, one Slovakian, three Russians, one Irishman, several Chinese, dozen or more Indians, two Korean, one Turk, one Honduran, one Venezuelan and I don’t remember where else. Probably at least a dozen other countries as well as the ones that I mentioned above.

Van: the first few days

I rolled out of Eugene with the back of the old Subaru riding low, weighted down with the weight of all of my possessions. Or what was left of them. I gave away a lot of my furniture before hitting the road. I filled every single available space inside that car. Then, I tied my dresser on top and my bike on back. Once I managed to get it all in or on the car, I felt better. Relief came from fitting it all in and not having to leave anything behind, but there was also an unexpected emotional relief that hit me like a ocean wave once on the road.

As I was driving through Portland on Tuesday, I tuned in KBOO, 90.7 fm, and I caught a great world music show–Tuesday, noon to 2 pm, by the way. The song that was playing when I first turned it on was the last track from the soundtrack to Slumdog and I thought to myself that I should listen to the rest of the album.

What came next, I was not expecting–although on some deep unconscious level, I suppose I was expecting it. The DJ picked a song by Michael Franti. Its one of my favorites from his latest album. From the first note, I recognized it. I started crying, loudly and haltingly. I struggled to keep my eyes open and on the road coming at me, 65 mph. At the same time, I felt amused by my sudden and (somewhat) unexpected tears. I laughed between bursts of tears. Feeling silly, I laughed more. Then I cried more. And on and on. Even now, I feel the tears are just a song away.

My time since arriving has been taken up with the little stuff of moving: opening a new bank account, getting an ID card, organizing my stuff in my much smaller room, picking a cell carrier and plan. Between these chores, I spend closing up the last details of my past life. I said good-bye to my past job by completing an evaluation of the executive director. Hopefully, my honest advise and assessment of the situation there won’t come back to bit me.

Broadcast 2000 fans celebrate the muse and Van

My new favorite CD arrived in the mail a couple days ago and I have been annoying friends and enemies a like with their contagious sound. They are Broadcast 2000 and if you have not heard them, then I recommend a little listen. But even better, on their myspace they briefly posted this odd-ball gem made by fans who obviously spend a lot of time in Vancouver BC and go to UBC.

Reluctantly liking my new laptop

I just received my new laptop today. Once I arrived home from work I started to play. Its a lot faster, of course, than my five year old custom built desktop. The new toy is commercially known as a Lenovo Ideapad Y530. I’m still working on a more personal name. I still have issues with the way that laptops mess with my posture. I seem to slowly sink into it, til I find myself about six inches from the screen wondering why my neck is killing me. Also, for now, there seems to be a disturbing smell coming from my Chinese-made computer. While my headache might be from a simple lack of water, I am not convinced that the off-gases are harmless.

I guess that my expectations of Vista have been considerably suppressed over the last year and a half since its release. Now, I am pleased to see that it works without any major meltdowns.

Yes, it is heavier than I would like and although I think that I won’t travel with it much, I am returning to university, where laptops are more common than pencils.

Does anyone have any suggestions on what I should name the little guy?

warning: narrow interest post

Yep, this is mostly just for a narrowly defined audience of one: me. This is my cork board for pinning up photo and whatnot. At this time, it contains in clockwise order starting in the upper left:

1. A Save the Date card from Jenn A & Michael for their wedding date (which just happens  to be on the last day I’m  in Eugene),
2. A photo of my housemates and me during college,
3. A poster for a Hot Club Sandwich show (Sam Bonds Sept 18th, 2002),
4. A shot of my grandmother and her family in La Habana, Cuba (1917),
5. A photo of a Honduran farmer (Santín) who I worked with in the Peace Corps, and
6. a photo of me and a group of other friends from Peace Corps Honduras.

Goats take over city, make changes

I’m home again after six flights in two days. I have finally got around to taking a picture of my new painting. Michael McDevitt painted ‘Into the Wildness’ in 2002.

Eating the seeds for next year

Vandana Shiva spoke at a recent organic farming conference I went to in Portland, Oregon. She spoke of the connections between seeds, sustainability and peace. She told stories of international corporations braking Indian national laws and her small victories to stop them in the courts. But what touched me the most was from a story she told illustrating the perseverance of the people who survived a long drought in the country. Although they were hungry, they did not eat the rice seeds for the following year.

While in Peace Corps in Honduras, my period of service coincided with a two-year drought in the country. I remember well the day I went to visit one of my best farmers. He reported to me that they had had to eat the beans that they had put aside as seed.

I remember feeling a mix of anger and sadness for their situation. Anger because I thought he of all people should know better. He must not have wanted to do it. Yet, how could he do such a stupid thing unless he believed that he and his family would somehow purchase more.

As an agricultural trainer, I knew that the beans that they ate were well adapted to the hot and dry conditions that plagued the region. The farmer knew this too, I did not need to tell him. Still, I did and he reassured me that they would be able to buy seed from a certain vendor he knew from the nearby township. They would be good seeds, breed and rised just over the hill to the east.

I hoped so. I could not have farmers dying on me while I volunteered to help them.