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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

A lot of folks, say why Canada? I say why not. A nice coincidence is that the Canadian Dollar slipped 5% against the US Dollar since I first applied in December, making my finances just a little better. However, I’m trying to keep in mind that the currency markets can just as easily take that away.

I will miss Eugene and the friends I have made here over the last seven years in this town. Still, I am certain I am ready for a change in location. I’ve always expressed a preference for large cities instead of towns or smaller cities. I believe that a certain critical mass is necessary for a city to become something more than just a crowded area of human development.

So, I’m still waiting to hear back from York University, while University of British Columbia has admitted me. If they both admit me, then I am going to have to make a difficult decision. If not, then I can put all this nervous energy into something else.

At the moment, UBC is leading in my mind. And it is not just because they are the first and only program to admit me so far. It  is a 15-month program (instead of the usual 21 months) with an internship and all the usual MBA stuff. The Canadian public school is just finishing both a new residence hall and a new academic building for MBA students exclusively. They will be open in the Fall 2009. My own calculations appear to make UBC the cheapest program I considered, even a little cheaper than the University of Oregon (and I would pay in-state fees in Oregon).

Adding to the decision is the complexity of where I want to be afterward: east coast or west coast. UBC is known within the northwest region, but not very well outside of that area. While I have never heard of York University, it is probably known in eastern Canada and the northeast of the US.

I am trying to not let climate affect my decision, but of course, it does. Everyone, and especially my family, who I ask about my decision seems to think that climate is important and suggests that Toronto is very cold. The fact of the matter is that I’ve been in the northwest of the country for 10 out of the last 13 years. I’m probably here to stay.

So, Vancouver or Toronto? Anyone have any thoughts or suggestions?