Nobody understands what doctors go through until they are there. I just finished my first round of exams, and as you might have noticed, have blogged little as of late. I have a blog on medical school, but even that is hard to find time for, let alone my passion on Vietnam and international politics that use TBE as a forum.
Let me just tell you that doctors do not make nearly as much as the effort that is exerted. People think doctors make a ton of money, and most are compensated far better than average (i.e. top 5% of the country) but compare that with law, business, or another profession, and a doctor's time is cheap, pennies-on-the-dollar cheap, in comparison.
So, next time you visit your doctor, thank him for surviving, yes, surviving medical school, so he can keep you healthy enough to bill your clients $100 an hour to do their legal stuff.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Thursday, September 07, 2006
Ode to a Great One
Photo taken from NY TimesGoodbye. Farewell. Today I saw the end of an era. I still don't believe it ... well, I believe it, but my consciousness has yet to accept it. Andre Agassi is done. My family is a tennis family. Since my earliest days I remember sitting on Saturdays and Sundays watching two or four people hit a green felt ball back and forth, "click, clock! click clock! click clock!" the crowd silent, until some incredible angle was attempted and hit or a line painted. Then came deafening roars and cheers from my living room.
To me, the only planet to live on was Planet Agassi
By 10 years old the world revolved around two people -- no, not Ronald Reagan and Mikhail Gorbachev -- Pete Sampras and Andre Agassi. Sure, there were others. Who can forget the memorable French open run of Chang? Or the Wimbledon of Malivai Washington a little later? But the Galaxy was determined. There were two planets: Planet Sampras and Planet Agassi. Everyone else were at best moons revolving around these two.
Sure there were older players. I remember Jimmy Connors, John McEnroe, Boris Becker. But every brightly burning star eventually bloats to a red gas giant and then cools to a black dwarf. These great stars had no more light. The two that remained, revolving around each other, could not be any more different. To my young mind, Planet Sampras was pure power. Lightning serves rained down from his serene skies, points finishing quickly. I could hear a point: "ugh, pop! *grunt!* thunk!" and the ball had hit the wall behind the returner.
Ace.
Planet Sampras was always clean cut. His orbit was round and he stuck to it, never deviating. His private life stayed private, and people loved him for his mastery of the game.
But I never could. To me, the only planet to live on was Planet Agassi. Whereas Sampras lived by a legendary serve, Agassi redefined returning serve. Agassi took serves so fast you couldn't help but say "ouch!" and laugh. Yes, it's impressive to throw a huge punch, ut how much more impressive is it to just stand there, take the punch without flinching, and rip one back so fast and hard that the other guy is on his back before he knows it? That was Agassi.
"ugh, pop! *grunt* clock! thunk!"
and the ball was in the wall behind the server.
Planet Agassi had no appreciable standard orbit. As a kid I loved a player finally not wearing tennis whites with short, clean cut hair. Agassi was the youthful freedom we all sought. His long hair and flamboyant clothes defined his personality, the pirate, bucking against tradition and form. He was The Rebel. Even in commercials, it was the EOS Powershot Rebel. We all wanted to rebel.
As the years rolled on I would cheer him in the great Sampras:Agassi matches. I mourned him when he hit bottom in the late 1990s. I thanked God for an answer to my prayers during his resurgence. My highschool days were marked by long hair too, hoping for the same statement I saw out of him a few years earlier.
Agassi the rebel had returned from the dead as Agassi the Sage
McEnroe was a firebrand, a misfit of sorts. Agassi was different. He was a phoenix. He lived a burning hot life, and when it ended, he arose back out of the ashes, reformed. After a year in the minor leagues Agassi returned, different. Everything I loved about him as a kid was gone, and everything I didn't like then I respected now. He and I had grown up. The hair was gone. Fashion cannot conquer genetics, and Agassi's pate had nothing on it. Bald. His clothes were white. Agassi the rebel had returned from the dead as Agassi the Sage.
Planet Agassi's orbit became as regular as ever. He became the Monk of Tennis with his shaved head and all white ensemble. And more than his clothes, his words and actions spoke nirvana. As he won, Agassi relected on the greatness of tennis, its fans, and humanity. As he won, he put more and more money into charities such as his charter school for economically dsiadvantaged children in Las Vegas, NV. As he won, he became even more respected for that return, especially as his back continued to fail on him.
The wounded warrior who falls to a great foe after a strong fight is more revered than the strong warrior who dispatches him. And so it was with Andre. Even down to his last tournament, I watched in awe as he took Baghdatis to five sets, winning in the end, and then Becker to four sets, losing close each set. It conjured up dreams of what he would be like, even at 36, with a good back. A couple more majors, Andre?
21 years are over. The wise monk has finally retired to his mountain home. The bright star has burnt out with fury, not slowly. The stormy planet that grew calm has finally grown silent. I sat and watched his last match. I stood for points on ending hoping that the cosmos would align because of my superstitious actions and will him to victory. I screamed at the tv as an obviously tired Becker got lucky with big serves against an ailing Agassi.
I cried when Agassi broke down in his chair, and again when he thanked the fans and people of New York for 21 great years. And I too said "Thank you, Andre."
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Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Vuelta a Espania
Have you ever riden a 10 to 12% grade on a bicycle at a speed over 10 mph? If you haven't, let me give you a clue about how it feels. Imagine someone has a meat tenderizer hammer and pounds your thighs until they look like hamburger. The riders in the Vuelta a Espania (Tour of Spain, one of the three Grand Tours) experienced this today. Ouch. Imagine your thighs hurting like that and then someone passes you. What do you have to do? Attack, of course. So, that means putting the pain aside and putting all of your effort and sanity to catch up to and pass your opponent. I respect those guys for the effort and skill they have gained in their cycling careers.
On to the doping stuff again. It looks like the doping news has settled down a little. For all of you Tyler Hamilton supporters, he will end his ban for blood doping in the month of September. The current president of the UCI (http://www.uci.ch) or International Cyclists Union is trying to get Hamilton banned for life due to the current doping mess. His name some how appeared in documents of the charged doping doctor. Who knows?
Well, I'm upgrading my bike. I am using new components from the SRAM corporation. These parts move into a market dominated by two makers: Shimano and Campy. SRAM gives me light weight parts at a fraction of the price of either. However, the parts I am buying with SRAM pasted all over them are for my road bike, not my time trial bike. For instance, the gear/brake levers built by SRAM (model Rival) weigh in at 335 g. Shimano's Dura Ace, their top of the line shifters, weigh a staggering 420g. For a climber, those numbers are huge. Next, look at the brakes, SRAM Rival (SRAM's number 2 model, their Dura Ace model is called FORCE) brakes weigh 290 g while DA brakes weigh 305 g. When you add up the components, RIVAL only lacks in their crankset which is 30g heavier than DA's crank. Give SRAM a few more years, and they will break up the Shimano/Campy domination.
Till next time! Keep on riding! and Studying!
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Thursday, August 24, 2006
Iraq and the Melia, addendum
Consul-at-arms made a good comment in my first post, prompting my reply and study.
Wikipedia--not always the most reliable source, but good--says
Here it talks about Hutu and Tutsi denominations, saying,
Although my reference towards the origin of the Hutu and Tutsi was not entirely clear, and generalizations are never entirely accurate, I still think the Hutu vs. Tutsi conflict has some bonafide similarities with the Shi'a/Sunni situation I wrote about in the first post, including the repercussions still today of Europeans arbitrarily outlining colonies.
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"The Belgians went into the colony and separated the people according to physical features that looked European vs. Non-european."I replied,
Huh? Where'd you hear that? And if it were true, how is that several neighboring countries, where the Belgians weren't the colonial power, have the same two tribes?
Well, I took your question and ran with it. First, I made the statement based on admittedly little knowledge on the subject, and what I had seen on Sometimes in April.I want to add some to that.
So, after reading your comment, I wanted to see if I was wrong. Yes and no. The Belgians did separate people into the groups Hutu and Tutsi based on physical features. But I was wrong in the insinuation that they were exactly one people before this.
The Hutu and Tutsi were one people for years. They lived in tribes, intermarried, etc. For most of this time, Hutu designated farmers and Tutsi designated rulers or people not doing rural work. Therefore, the indentifier could change as you changed class, work, etc.
However, by the time the Europeans arrived the Hutu and Tutsi designations were starting to congeal in a Tutsi=non-farm-worker and Hutu=farm-worker identity, making most societal leaders Tutsi. Their work indoors and a different genetic origin for many of them, gave them lighter skin, and more European features generally.
Hence, when the Belgians came, it was easy to see the Tutsi's as more European, already versed in ruling a society, and easy candidates to run the colony.
Since this is becoming longer than expected, I am going to put quotes in another post.
Wikipedia--not always the most reliable source, but good--says
The Belgian government continued to rely on the Tutsi power structure for administering the country. It also consistently favoured the Tutsis where education was concerned, leading to a situation where many Tutsis were literate, while the majority of Hutus were not. Belgians educated the Tutsis in Catholic schools, which widened the ethnic rift between Hutu and Tutsi.from Wikipedia:History of Rwanda
...Current academic thought is that the European emphasis on racial division led to many of the difficulties between Hutu and Tutsi in the latter part of the 20th century.
Here it talks about Hutu and Tutsi denominations, saying,
The word "Tutsi," which apparently first described the status of an individual—a person rich in cattle—became the term that referred to the elite group as a whole and the word "Hutu"—meaning originally a subordinate or follower of a more powerful person—came to refer to the mass of the ordinary people.(found in Rwandan History)
...Because Europeans thought that the Tutsi looked more like themselves than did other Rwandans, they found it reasonable to suppose them closer to Europeans in the evolutionary hierarchy and hence closer to them in ability. Believing the Tutsi to be more capable, they found it logical for the Tutsi to rule Hutu and Twa just as it was reasonable for Europeans to rule Africans. Unaware of the "Hutu" contribution to building Rwanda, the Europeans saw only that the ruler of this impressive state and many of his immediate entourage were Tutsi, which led them to assume that the complex institutions had been created exclusively by Tutsi.
Not surprisingly, Tutsi welcomed these ideas about their superiority...
Although my reference towards the origin of the Hutu and Tutsi was not entirely clear, and generalizations are never entirely accurate, I still think the Hutu vs. Tutsi conflict has some bonafide similarities with the Shi'a/Sunni situation I wrote about in the first post, including the repercussions still today of Europeans arbitrarily outlining colonies.
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Monday, August 21, 2006
Chinese Censorship and Tour Guides
Yesterday, my family had a little get-together with some relatives to celebrate my brother's return from Italy. As talk moved to everyone's recent travels (Vietnam, Italy, Denmark, Germany, Thailand, Cambodia, Taiwan, Hong Kong, Australia, Malaysia, China, Korea, and the Philippines), my aunt recounted her favorite times in China--the Great Wall and the Terracotta warriors.
Then the topic turned to Mao.
The tour guide happily explained about Chairman Mao and all the great and wonderful things he did for China. Then he said, "he had a wife and a couple kids and was a great family man."
"Did you know he had concubines?" my cousin, fleunt in Mandarin and who graduated with a degree in Asian Studies, queried.
"No, that is not true," retorted the tour guide. "I have never heard such things."
"Oh but it is," she responded. "He had over one hundred concubines, and stopped brushing his teeth about 20 years before he died."
The tour guide's eyes widened. "Really? What more about Mao have we not been told?"
My cousin proceeded to explain a few points to him. My aunt, relating the story, then said,
Did you know he had concubines?
Then the topic turned to Mao.
The tour guide happily explained about Chairman Mao and all the great and wonderful things he did for China. Then he said, "he had a wife and a couple kids and was a great family man."
"Did you know he had concubines?" my cousin, fleunt in Mandarin and who graduated with a degree in Asian Studies, queried.
"No, that is not true," retorted the tour guide. "I have never heard such things."
"Oh but it is," she responded. "He had over one hundred concubines, and stopped brushing his teeth about 20 years before he died."
The tour guide's eyes widened. "Really? What more about Mao have we not been told?"
They don't have weapons now but watch out
My cousin proceeded to explain a few points to him. My aunt, relating the story, then said,
"Everywhere we went, we stood in long lines of tourists. With capitalism, China is embracing tourism, and where tourists go, people talk. Eventually, the aggregate sum of these encounters will lead to something big. Shanghai is an amazing city. In my opinion, it's more amazing than New York City. But you go 10 miles outside of Shanghai and people have mud floors in their huts. Right now, the government controls the media, but eventually this knowledge will spread, and you will have millions of angry citizens. They don't have weapons now, but watch out. It'll be big."
Thursday, August 17, 2006
Iraq and the Melia
I was listening to NPR yesterday evening and couldnt help connecting the current conflict in Iraq with one in Africa that was the subject of two great movies: Hotel Rwanda and Sometimes in April.
What in the world could Baghdad have with the Hotel Melia?? Small bastions of solace amid a storm of sectarian violence spiraling out of control.
If you haven't seen Sometimes in April, I highly reccomend it. I think it is better than Hotel Rwanda, which is a great movie. Something running through both movies is the theme of international indifference while people slaughter each other over a name.
"What's in a name?? A rose by any other name would smell as sweet."
(Who wrote that line?)
The Hutu and Tutsi sects that massacred each other in the movies above really were one people. The Belgians went into the colony and separated the people according to physical features that looked European vs. Non-european. The Tutsi, or European group became rulers over the more numerous Hutu group. When the Hutu regained power, tension spiraled towards genocide.
Now, in Iraq, we have the start of a similar situation. Shi'a and Sunni are both Arab, however, due to differences in religious belief, stemming from hundreds of years ago (i.e. who should rule after Mohammad, his grandson or someone else), numerous wars and sectarian violence has bred mutual animosity and distrust in --not all but-- a number of people who now work towards cleansing towns and suburbs of Baghdad of the "other" group. I fear it may have hit critical mass. The government there and here cannot stop the course of events without seriously stepping up manpower, and that will only put the lid on things until the "police" leave. How can you stop and change hundreds of years of pride and animosity?
I blame the Brits for arbitrarily creating Iraq from a mish-mash of ethnic and religious groups that weren't getting along then and don't now. The road to peace will be long and hard, changing the habits and prejudices of parents and children, and could start by having mandatory study of enlightenment philosophers in schools (for the young...when they can go to school). Obviously much more needs to be done, but I don't profess to have all the answers, if any.
What in the world could Baghdad have with the Hotel Melia?? Small bastions of solace amid a storm of sectarian violence spiraling out of control.
If you haven't seen Sometimes in April, I highly reccomend it. I think it is better than Hotel Rwanda, which is a great movie. Something running through both movies is the theme of international indifference while people slaughter each other over a name.
"What's in a name?? A rose by any other name would smell as sweet."
(Who wrote that line?)
The Hutu and Tutsi sects that massacred each other in the movies above really were one people. The Belgians went into the colony and separated the people according to physical features that looked European vs. Non-european. The Tutsi, or European group became rulers over the more numerous Hutu group. When the Hutu regained power, tension spiraled towards genocide.
Now, in Iraq, we have the start of a similar situation. Shi'a and Sunni are both Arab, however, due to differences in religious belief, stemming from hundreds of years ago (i.e. who should rule after Mohammad, his grandson or someone else), numerous wars and sectarian violence has bred mutual animosity and distrust in --not all but-- a number of people who now work towards cleansing towns and suburbs of Baghdad of the "other" group. I fear it may have hit critical mass. The government there and here cannot stop the course of events without seriously stepping up manpower, and that will only put the lid on things until the "police" leave. How can you stop and change hundreds of years of pride and animosity?
I blame the Brits for arbitrarily creating Iraq from a mish-mash of ethnic and religious groups that weren't getting along then and don't now. The road to peace will be long and hard, changing the habits and prejudices of parents and children, and could start by having mandatory study of enlightenment philosophers in schools (for the young...when they can go to school). Obviously much more needs to be done, but I don't profess to have all the answers, if any.
Monday, August 14, 2006
My First Day of Medical School
Today was my first day of medical school. On that note, I am taking the advice of a blogging master, Virtual Doug, and I am starting a one-post-a-day blog about medical school. It will consist only of my thoughts and experiences while in medical school or my life as it directly pertains to medical school (possibly alot, since that's all I'm doing for the next four years). I hope people find it interesting.
Welcome to A Med Student's Life.
Welcome to A Med Student's Life.
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Texas Drivers
I'm eating crow. Lots of it. Every day my wife ribs me as we drive around Houston looking for houses or taking her to tennis lessons.
"I thought you said Texas drivers were good?"
"I did."
"Well, I don't see that," she replies. "Nobody here is courteous. They're worse than Utah drivers."
"Now, don't say that! They haven't stooped that low!" I retort.
Today things are different. Sometimes I feel like I'm the only driver on the road still doing the things listed above. Drivers drive fast, the ride bumpers to make a Southern Californian jealous. When I first got into town, my mother drove the family to the Museum of Natural Science. Someone tried to get over, put on his or her blinker, and my mother sped up.
"I can't let them in. They'll put me farther behind."
WHAT!? Then she proceeded to speed up, forcing the car to merge farther back, and then slammed on her brakes because she was riding the rear bumper of a SUV that was slowing. My heart leapt into my throat.
Driving has been hard for my wife. She has almost no experience driving in traffic like this, and our old car was a 1990 Toyota Camry held together by duct tape and chewing gum. It leaked more oil than it burned, and burned more than it used. Hopefully, she can take backroads as she gets used to a new car and roads.
For me, I still have the roads memorized. There are some new street lights where we used to have stopsigns, and stores where there was cow pastures, but generally the layout is the same. I've driven in Utah and SoCal, so I can manage the cutthroat practices here. The impetus for this rant came two days ago, when I almost got in an accident.
I was traveling down West Road, after dropping my wife off at tennis class. This area of West Rd. is four lanes, divided by a marge median with trees and grass. So two lanes one way, two the other. The oncoming two lanes were packed, as people returned home from work during rush hour. My lanes were generally empty because I'm driving east, into town.
I'm driving along at the speed limit, 40mph, left lane, with one silver car in front of me in the right lane. West Rd cuts through subdivisions in
Well, I passed the first light and switched over to the right lane because i will turn just after the second light. It turns yellow.
"Man, I just got into this lane behind the silver car," I thought. "I guess I'll move back because there's not a lot of room to stop and I'll be first at the light."
There were no other cars.
As I start to shift back to the left lane, the silver car in front of me slams on its breaks forcing me to cut over quickly so I don't hit it.
"What the heck?" I think to myself. "If the lane I just came from wasn't empty, I'd be in that car's back bumper right now."
I wasn't following inordinately close, the car just stopped really quickly. Whipping into the left lane, I look over and see an old gray-haired woman, about 70, lighting a cigarette. Her car comes to a complete stop a full 2 car lengths before the light. There's only about 200 ft or so between lights!
Gathering my wits before me, I moved back into the right hand lane since I needed to turn right. Mind you, I'm not cutting this smoking grandma off. Even with me in the right hand lane, there's still a good 12 feet between us. The light turns green, I take off, and the grandma speeds up, cuts into the left lane behind a car that caught up to us, and proceeds to give me the evilest glare as she passes me.
What's this world coming to when a smoking grandma tries to get you to rear-end her, stops multiple car lengths from the light, the gives you the evil-eye as she passes?? Beware Houston drivers.
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"I thought you said Texas drivers were good?"
"I did."
"Well, I don't see that," she replies. "Nobody here is courteous. They're worse than Utah drivers."
"Now, don't say that! They haven't stooped that low!" I retort.
What's this world coming to when a smoking grandma tries to get you to rear-end her
But the truth is, they're coming close. Why? When I grew up here, drivers were courteous. They stopped with room to spare at lights to let merge out of parking lots and into traffic. They drove at that general lackadaisical pace found on the farms that "farm roads" are supposed to lead to (FM 529--farm road 529--is NOT a farm road anymore!). Sure, driving wasn't perfect--drivers weren't perfect--but people generally were nice, and after being helped out once, you typically returned the favor, spawning this viral good deed driving atmosphere.Today things are different. Sometimes I feel like I'm the only driver on the road still doing the things listed above. Drivers drive fast, the ride bumpers to make a Southern Californian jealous. When I first got into town, my mother drove the family to the Museum of Natural Science. Someone tried to get over, put on his or her blinker, and my mother sped up.
"I can't let them in. They'll put me farther behind."
WHAT!? Then she proceeded to speed up, forcing the car to merge farther back, and then slammed on her brakes because she was riding the rear bumper of a SUV that was slowing. My heart leapt into my throat.
Driving has been hard for my wife. She has almost no experience driving in traffic like this, and our old car was a 1990 Toyota Camry held together by duct tape and chewing gum. It leaked more oil than it burned, and burned more than it used. Hopefully, she can take backroads as she gets used to a new car and roads.
For me, I still have the roads memorized. There are some new street lights where we used to have stopsigns, and stores where there was cow pastures, but generally the layout is the same. I've driven in Utah and SoCal, so I can manage the cutthroat practices here. The impetus for this rant came two days ago, when I almost got in an accident.
I was traveling down West Road, after dropping my wife off at tennis class. This area of West Rd. is four lanes, divided by a marge median with trees and grass. So two lanes one way, two the other. The oncoming two lanes were packed, as people returned home from work during rush hour. My lanes were generally empty because I'm driving east, into town.
I'm driving along at the speed limit, 40mph, left lane, with one silver car in front of me in the right lane. West Rd cuts through subdivisions in
If the lane I just came from wasn't empty, I'd be in that car's back bumper right now
this area, so there is a light at the intersection into one subdvision with my old elementary school, Fiest, and then another light maybe 200 ft past because of a blind turn into the intersection on the left. My entrance is on the right just past the second light. Well, I passed the first light and switched over to the right lane because i will turn just after the second light. It turns yellow.
"Man, I just got into this lane behind the silver car," I thought. "I guess I'll move back because there's not a lot of room to stop and I'll be first at the light."
There were no other cars.
As I start to shift back to the left lane, the silver car in front of me slams on its breaks forcing me to cut over quickly so I don't hit it.
"What the heck?" I think to myself. "If the lane I just came from wasn't empty, I'd be in that car's back bumper right now."
I wasn't following inordinately close, the car just stopped really quickly. Whipping into the left lane, I look over and see an old gray-haired woman, about 70, lighting a cigarette. Her car comes to a complete stop a full 2 car lengths before the light. There's only about 200 ft or so between lights!
Gathering my wits before me, I moved back into the right hand lane since I needed to turn right. Mind you, I'm not cutting this smoking grandma off. Even with me in the right hand lane, there's still a good 12 feet between us. The light turns green, I take off, and the grandma speeds up, cuts into the left lane behind a car that caught up to us, and proceeds to give me the evilest glare as she passes me.
What's this world coming to when a smoking grandma tries to get you to rear-end her, stops multiple car lengths from the light, the gives you the evil-eye as she passes?? Beware Houston drivers.
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Thursday, July 27, 2006
Landis in question for doping??!?!?!?!?
Phonak confirms Landis rider in question
The Phonak Cycling Team confirmed Thursday that Tour de France winner Floyd Landis is the rider who submitted a positive "A" sample following the 17th stage of this year's Tour de France. The UCI revealed Wednesday that the anti-doping laboratory at Châtenay-Malabry in Paris discovered an "adverse analytical finding" in a doping control taken during the 93rd Tour. "The adverse analytical finding received on Wednesday morning relates to the first analysis and will have to be confirmed either by a counter-analysis required by the rider, or by the fact that the rider renounces to that counter analysis," the UCI statement said. A positive "A" sample is only the first step in the process and does not constitute proof of any rider's use of performance-enhancing substances.
The Phonak Cycling Team issued the following statement Thursday, confirming Landis as the rider in question:
The Phonak Cycling Team was notified yesterday by the UCI of an unusual level of Testosteron/Epitestosteron ratio in the test made on Floyd Landis after stage 17 of the Tour de France.
The Team Management and the rider were both totally surprised of this physiological result. The rider will ask in the upcoming days for the counter analysis to prove either that this result is coming from a natural process or that this is resulting from a mistake in the confirmation. In application of the Pro Tour Ethical Code, the rider will not race anymore until this problem is totally clear.
If the result of the B sample analysis confirms the result of the A sample the rider will be dismissed and will then pass the corresponding endocrinological examinations. Please understand that we cannot at this time give you more detailed comments.
More about doping in the 2006 Tour DAY France.
The UCI revealed Wednesday that the anti-doping laboratory at Châtenay-Malabry in Paris discovered an "adverse analytical finding" in a doping control taken during the 93rd Tour.
<---- Is it one of these guys?
Please no. The European press loves a scandel as much as any news agency. Once a decade, they try to derail the tour on doping. Other reports show that the Astana-Wurth team which had five riders implicated in Operacion Puerto was cleared. That means that Vino's chance at taking the tour was derailed for NOTHING! 
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
The Next Lance?
This guy, Levi may be Discovery Channel's next Lance. If no one knows, Levi used to be on the old US Postal Squad that became Disco.
Next years Tour de France will be another shocker. With people like Jan Ullrich trying to get cleared of doping problems, Vino who will be as combative as possible, and now Levi and Discovery, get ready to be on the edge of your seat again.
Today, word was released that one of the cyclists at the Tour had one of their blood samples test positive for some banned substance. Wow. Could a tour that was already rocked due to drugs be rocked even more? Well, in the next few days we will know who had to cheat to compete. These guys are at the top of their game and are driven at times to maintain their high placing or level of competition. Why dope?
Back to Levi. With an entire team behind him, his chances of standing on top of the podium in Paris next year skyrockets. However, look at the horrible time trial that Levi rode. This next season, he definately needs to spend a little more time on the TT bike and get rid of all excuses to lose eight minutes to the first place finisher of the ITT stages.
On other news... I am interested in getting the new SRAM Force/Rival components for my bike. Right now, two major companies control ALL of the high end cycling market: Shimano and Campy. I have been a Shimano rider for a long time...ever since I started racing bikes. However, I am displeased with the cost of the components and sometimes the weight of the components. SRAM is moving into the arena with two groupos that offer better pricing and usage together.
I AM A STUDENT FOR CRYING OUT LOUD! CHEAPER... lighter... stronger parts are what I call for my bike!
Americans Dominate French Tour
As you know, I love the Tour de France. I like cycling, but I'm not good at it, and I love watching the tour. Dunno why. This year, with the moving and all, I haven't posted about it, but hopefully AnonCyclist will stop worrying about my great Texas/Vietnam logo or med school applications and fill us in on the state of cycling (since he is a cyclist).
Floyd Landis was not the race favorite in May. He wasn't the race favorite in June. Only after Ivan Basso, Jan Ullrich, and some other big names were barred from competing because of the blood doping scandal, and some bad accidents at the beginning of the race dashed the hopes of one or two others, did Landis move from a potential top 10 finisher to a potential winner--and he didn't disappoint.
In fact, there's a theme here. Americans don't like cycling nearly as much as europeans, but we can kick their trash IF we are NOT healthy. There have been three winners of the tour--Greg LeMond, Lance Armstrong, and Floyd Landis. Greg was shot and nearly killed right after winning his first Tour de France.
Armstrong's saga is well-known, and provides a great springboard for politics which many people predict he will get into. Maybe we will see a Governor Armstrong in Texas. Anyway, his fight and victory over cancer, return to cycling, and domination of the world's toughest race and most talented racers, turned into seven consequtive yellow jerseys and an explosion of cycling interest in America.
But then he retired and the French breathed a sigh of relief that an uncouth American would not win their tour again. Boy were they wrong. Out pops Landis, who rides on an arthritic hip that will be replaced in the next month or two. He bonks, is in 11th place and 8:08 back entering the final mountain stage, and proceeds to go for broke--ending up third, 30 seconds behind Oscar Pereio, who he beat during the time trial to win the Tour de France.
That makes 11 in 21 years. Those Frenchies have gotta hate us. They're probably sick to death of the Star Spangled Banner.
[+/-] read/hide the rest of this post
Floyd Landis was not the race favorite in May. He wasn't the race favorite in June. Only after Ivan Basso, Jan Ullrich, and some other big names were barred from competing because of the blood doping scandal, and some bad accidents at the beginning of the race dashed the hopes of one or two others, did Landis move from a potential top 10 finisher to a potential winner--and he didn't disappoint.
That makes 11 in 21 years ... They're probably sick to death of the Star Spangled Banner
In fact, there's a theme here. Americans don't like cycling nearly as much as europeans, but we can kick their trash IF we are NOT healthy. There have been three winners of the tour--Greg LeMond, Lance Armstrong, and Floyd Landis. Greg was shot and nearly killed right after winning his first Tour de France.
Over forty shotgun pellets ripped through Greg's body, lodging not only in his back and legs, but more critically in his small intestine, liver, diaphragm, and heart lining. While waiting for rescue, his right lung collapsed and he lost three quarters of his blood supply. A cell phone, a police helicopter and nearby hospital that specialized in gun shot wounds saved his life. Because of the dangerous locations, surgeons were forced to leave over thirty of the pellets imbedded in his body.He came back from this adversity to win the Tour in 1989 and 1990 before retiring.
Armstrong's saga is well-known, and provides a great springboard for politics which many people predict he will get into. Maybe we will see a Governor Armstrong in Texas. Anyway, his fight and victory over cancer, return to cycling, and domination of the world's toughest race and most talented racers, turned into seven consequtive yellow jerseys and an explosion of cycling interest in America.
But then he retired and the French breathed a sigh of relief that an uncouth American would not win their tour again. Boy were they wrong. Out pops Landis, who rides on an arthritic hip that will be replaced in the next month or two. He bonks, is in 11th place and 8:08 back entering the final mountain stage, and proceeds to go for broke--ending up third, 30 seconds behind Oscar Pereio, who he beat during the time trial to win the Tour de France.
That makes 11 in 21 years. Those Frenchies have gotta hate us. They're probably sick to death of the Star Spangled Banner.
[+/-] read/hide the rest of this post
Monday, July 24, 2006
What's up with Texas? Does it now have....
What's up with the Texas picture in the upper right hand corner? It looks like it has a massive gastrointestinal tract. I can see it now in the headlines:
"Texas eats up all of the resources of Oklahoma.
Sends the trash into Mexico."
Well, who really knows? I think I have used more question marks in this post than I have in the last 4 weeks of filling out medical school secondaries. HA HA.
Next headline for Texas. In the latest magazine stand at the Wal-Mart grocery side of the store you find this headline:
"Keep energy costs down, fry on the hood of your car and use the inside for an oven!"
Well, I don't really know if the temperatures are as high in Texas as they are in Houston. With 100% humidity, you should be able to see the moisture move out of the way of your hand as you try to fan yourself in the middle of the day.
Have fun. And keep the ear bleeding!
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
Robbing Walmart
First, I'm sorry that the posts are few, far between, and irregular. Life is crazy right now as my wife and I look for a house in Houston. I promise things will become more regular as life settles down.
Two days ago my wife and I ran to Walmart, on the corner of FM 529 and Hwy 6, to pick up some tennis balls for her tennis class. She needs only 1/2 of a credit of PE to graduate from BYU, so she's taking a tennis class at the local community college. Right as we are walking in the front door, out comes a tall, big-boned caucasian woman with long brown hair pulled up in a pony tail in her upper 30s. She's wearing a black dress with white designs on it, and it catches my eye because she is booking it out of Walmart and the dress is slipping off her right shoulder.
"Geez, what's up with her?" I think to myself.
Immediately she yells, "Go! Go!" to a tall mexican man, upper 30s to mid 40s, short black hair, standing next to a blue chevy cavalier that is parked right outside the front door in the fire lane. The woman dishes off her shopping cart to the man who proceeds to dump large boxes into the open trunk. They looked to be electronics of some kind.
At the same time, out runs the poor older Walmart lady who checks purchases and gives carts at the door.
"Stop! Stop!" she cries. "You can't take that! Stop!"
"Outta my way!" screams the brown-haired woman at a smaller blond lady with a child, convieniently standing near the car. Then she ducks into the passenger seat.
"Do you want me to get the license plate?" asks the blond woman to the Walmart employee.
Within seconds the mexican man slams the trunk closed and hops into the drivers seat. The car looks like a mid-1990s (1995?) blue chevy cavalier, license plate # Z34 JHT. The tires squeal and he peels out right as another Walmart employee, a man runs out with pencil and paper.
I walked inside with my wife and that man, giving him the license plate number, but he didn't want my contact info. Then another Walmart employee, a middle-aged Asian woman, came to see what was the matter--probably the manager. At that point I figured I'd done everything I could and commenced shopping with my wife. However, the whole day I kept replaying the scene over and over again, digesting it. When it happened, it happened so fast I could hardly react. My first thought was get the license plate # and make/model of the car, so I did, yet the rest of the day I wondered if I should have done more.
I dunno, but I do know that trying to rob Walmart in the middle of the day, when packed with witnesses, and with the cameras they have at every door and in the parking lot, is just plain stupid.
[+/-] read/hide the rest of this post
trying to rob Walmart in the middle of the day ... is just plain stupid
Two days ago my wife and I ran to Walmart, on the corner of FM 529 and Hwy 6, to pick up some tennis balls for her tennis class. She needs only 1/2 of a credit of PE to graduate from BYU, so she's taking a tennis class at the local community college. Right as we are walking in the front door, out comes a tall, big-boned caucasian woman with long brown hair pulled up in a pony tail in her upper 30s. She's wearing a black dress with white designs on it, and it catches my eye because she is booking it out of Walmart and the dress is slipping off her right shoulder.
"Geez, what's up with her?" I think to myself.
Immediately she yells, "Go! Go!" to a tall mexican man, upper 30s to mid 40s, short black hair, standing next to a blue chevy cavalier that is parked right outside the front door in the fire lane. The woman dishes off her shopping cart to the man who proceeds to dump large boxes into the open trunk. They looked to be electronics of some kind.
At the same time, out runs the poor older Walmart lady who checks purchases and gives carts at the door.
"Stop! Stop!" she cries. "You can't take that! Stop!"
"Outta my way!" screams the brown-haired woman at a smaller blond lady with a child, convieniently standing near the car. Then she ducks into the passenger seat.
"Do you want me to get the license plate?" asks the blond woman to the Walmart employee.
Within seconds the mexican man slams the trunk closed and hops into the drivers seat. The car looks like a mid-1990s (1995?) blue chevy cavalier, license plate # Z34 JHT. The tires squeal and he peels out right as another Walmart employee, a man runs out with pencil and paper.
I walked inside with my wife and that man, giving him the license plate number, but he didn't want my contact info. Then another Walmart employee, a middle-aged Asian woman, came to see what was the matter--probably the manager. At that point I figured I'd done everything I could and commenced shopping with my wife. However, the whole day I kept replaying the scene over and over again, digesting it. When it happened, it happened so fast I could hardly react. My first thought was get the license plate # and make/model of the car, so I did, yet the rest of the day I wondered if I should have done more.
I dunno, but I do know that trying to rob Walmart in the middle of the day, when packed with witnesses, and with the cameras they have at every door and in the parking lot, is just plain stupid.
[+/-] read/hide the rest of this post
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
Jury Duty
No sooner do I step foot in Texas but they haul me into a court room for jury duty. Actually, I was summoned months ago while in Vietnam, but obviously I'm not going to fly back to Texas for three hours of civic duty...so I postponed it. I wonder what I could have done had I stayed longer in Vietnam??
Anyway, I was actually excitied to go to jury duty this morning. My wife and mother thought I was crazy, but they predicted it, because of my fascination for all things legal and political (yet I am not going to law school...).
Harris county jury duty consists of two parts: dumb & boring, cool & interesting. Unfortunately, all I will tell you about is the dumb and boring side. I showed up at the courthouse downtown this morning at 7am--a good hour early--thanks to waking up at 5:30am and driving on already crowded highways for an hour. From 7am to 8am, I sat in a large room, reading a book on real estate, and watching the various and sundry people enter the room to take a seat like me. Continuously, in English, Spanish, and Vietnamese, a tv told us that we can not serve on a jury if we are criminals, and there are many reasons to exempt. Don't forget to exempt! But excercise your civic duty and waive the exemption....but don't forget to exempt! But exercise your civic duty and waive the exemption....but don't ... (you get the picture).
I could have exercised my exemption (student) because I am in med school now, but I wanted to get picked. So I sat there, reading, staring at weird people, remarking at how truly multicultural my county is (and how even MORE varied all their backgrounds must be), looking at the old guy's dandruff in front of me, and generally trying not to sleep (since I stayed up last night watching Kiba until 2:00am).
At 8am, for the next hour, they waited for stragglers and picked up our papers saying who we are, what ethnicity we are, what we do for work, who our favorite baseball player is, what we ate for breakfast, and where we were on the night of Nov. 25, 1976--you know, the standard info that lawyers need to weed out the good jurors and pick the ones biased in their favor.
Finally, a nice lady with a monotone voice got on the loudspeaker and announced where we would all be headed.
"Will the forty people with numbers one thousand one to twelve hundred forty nine please go downstairs to my right to the orange waiting area? Court 4 needs twelve jurors. Numbers one-zero-zero-one to one-two-four-nine, please go down the stairs to the right to the orange waiting area."
However, my grandiose dreams of furthering the democratic ideal and rule of law were shattered when a nice cop in a southern drawl got on the PA and announced:
"Sorry, y'all. All courts are currently filled with jurors. You must stay here and wait to see if any additional juries are needed. We will turn on the televisions. If y'all don't want ta watch tv, y'all can head outside for a smoke or to the snack room where the tv will be on but muted. If nobody comes in a reasonable amount of time, ya'll are free to leave. By reasonable, I mean 11:15am."
I looked at the clock; it read 10:00am. "Man, I'm in for the long haul," I thought. At that moment my hopes were dashed. My number was 3795 and they barely got to the 2000s. I would spend my whole morning reading a real estate book in a large cold room behind an old man with dandruff...*sniff*
At 11:15am, the cop came in again and released us, and it felt like elementary school again, fighting the kids through the hall to recess. Everyone young and old bolted for the doors and the elevators. Remarkably, nobody died. Merging into the long car line trying to leave the parking garage, I inched my way to the ticket-taking-lady-guard-person. I handed her my ticket and my credit card.
No go. Evidently, even in 2006, someone (namely Harris County) still doesn't use debit or credit cards--only cash or checks. Aren't checks being phased out everywhere else because of processing fees? Am I dreaming of the 1980s? What do I do, m'am? I have no cash or checks. What? You've never met someone from the future? Well, pleased to meet you too.
So I had to park at the exit (after going through the arm-guard-thingie, and "on my honor" go back into the courthouse, find an atm, get cash, walk back to her stall, pay her, find my car, and leave. At least I felt I did the right thing and paid instead of just driving off. Oh wait, I feel used because they called me to jury duty and then make me pay $5.50 to sit and read a real estate book in a large cold room behind an old man with dandruff....
[+/-] read/hide the rest of this post
Anyway, I was actually excitied to go to jury duty this morning. My wife and mother thought I was crazy, but they predicted it, because of my fascination for all things legal and political (yet I am not going to law school...).
Harris county jury duty consists of two parts: dumb & boring, cool & interesting. Unfortunately, all I will tell you about is the dumb and boring side. I showed up at the courthouse downtown this morning at 7am--a good hour early--thanks to waking up at 5:30am and driving on already crowded highways for an hour. From 7am to 8am, I sat in a large room, reading a book on real estate, and watching the various and sundry people enter the room to take a seat like me. Continuously, in English, Spanish, and Vietnamese, a tv told us that we can not serve on a jury if we are criminals, and there are many reasons to exempt. Don't forget to exempt! But excercise your civic duty and waive the exemption....but don't forget to exempt! But exercise your civic duty and waive the exemption....but don't ... (you get the picture).
I could have exercised my exemption (student) because I am in med school now, but I wanted to get picked. So I sat there, reading, staring at weird people, remarking at how truly multicultural my county is (and how even MORE varied all their backgrounds must be), looking at the old guy's dandruff in front of me, and generally trying not to sleep (since I stayed up last night watching Kiba until 2:00am).
At 8am, for the next hour, they waited for stragglers and picked up our papers saying who we are, what ethnicity we are, what we do for work, who our favorite baseball player is, what we ate for breakfast, and where we were on the night of Nov. 25, 1976--you know, the standard info that lawyers need to weed out the good jurors and pick the ones biased in their favor.
Finally, a nice lady with a monotone voice got on the loudspeaker and announced where we would all be headed.
"Will the forty people with numbers one thousand one to twelve hundred forty nine please go downstairs to my right to the orange waiting area? Court 4 needs twelve jurors. Numbers one-zero-zero-one to one-two-four-nine, please go down the stairs to the right to the orange waiting area."
However, my grandiose dreams of furthering the democratic ideal and rule of law were shattered when a nice cop in a southern drawl got on the PA and announced:
"Sorry, y'all. All courts are currently filled with jurors. You must stay here and wait to see if any additional juries are needed. We will turn on the televisions. If y'all don't want ta watch tv, y'all can head outside for a smoke or to the snack room where the tv will be on but muted. If nobody comes in a reasonable amount of time, ya'll are free to leave. By reasonable, I mean 11:15am."
I looked at the clock; it read 10:00am. "Man, I'm in for the long haul," I thought. At that moment my hopes were dashed. My number was 3795 and they barely got to the 2000s. I would spend my whole morning reading a real estate book in a large cold room behind an old man with dandruff...*sniff*
At 11:15am, the cop came in again and released us, and it felt like elementary school again, fighting the kids through the hall to recess. Everyone young and old bolted for the doors and the elevators. Remarkably, nobody died. Merging into the long car line trying to leave the parking garage, I inched my way to the ticket-taking-lady-guard-person. I handed her my ticket and my credit card.
No go. Evidently, even in 2006, someone (namely Harris County) still doesn't use debit or credit cards--only cash or checks. Aren't checks being phased out everywhere else because of processing fees? Am I dreaming of the 1980s? What do I do, m'am? I have no cash or checks. What? You've never met someone from the future? Well, pleased to meet you too.
So I had to park at the exit (after going through the arm-guard-thingie, and "on my honor" go back into the courthouse, find an atm, get cash, walk back to her stall, pay her, find my car, and leave. At least I felt I did the right thing and paid instead of just driving off. Oh wait, I feel used because they called me to jury duty and then make me pay $5.50 to sit and read a real estate book in a large cold room behind an old man with dandruff....
[+/-] read/hide the rest of this post
Saturday, July 08, 2006
Wireless Issues
I have issues. Most people who know me are probably laughing, nodding, and quietly saying "yes," but seriously, I do. My wireless doesn't work anymore.
This is a large problem because it's how I get on the internet. Posting has been scarce because I've been moving, and right when posting can pick back up again...*poof!* there goes my notebook adapter card.
What is wrong??? I dunno. I got it for Christmas last year and it worked fine with my family's 2WIRE router (DSL) at that time. Then I went to Vietnam and didn't use it. Then I got back to the states and it worked fine in Utah at BYU. But coming back to Texas did something, because it doesn't work.
It doesn't work on my wife's computer, or my friend's laptop either. And my wife bought a similar one for her comp yesterday and it didn't work on our comps either.
So, if you have a clue why Netgear 108mbs wireless notebook adapters (PC slot) don't work with fully updated windows XP SP2 and a 2WIRE router, please, please, tell me.
That, on top of reformatting my parents desktop to fix driver issues caused by old viruses, and then having to listen to constant querying as to when my family can use the internet again has kept me pretty busy.
This is a large problem because it's how I get on the internet. Posting has been scarce because I've been moving, and right when posting can pick back up again...*poof!* there goes my notebook adapter card.
What is wrong??? I dunno. I got it for Christmas last year and it worked fine with my family's 2WIRE router (DSL) at that time. Then I went to Vietnam and didn't use it. Then I got back to the states and it worked fine in Utah at BYU. But coming back to Texas did something, because it doesn't work.
It doesn't work on my wife's computer, or my friend's laptop either. And my wife bought a similar one for her comp yesterday and it didn't work on our comps either.
So, if you have a clue why Netgear 108mbs wireless notebook adapters (PC slot) don't work with fully updated windows XP SP2 and a 2WIRE router, please, please, tell me.
That, on top of reformatting my parents desktop to fix driver issues caused by old viruses, and then having to listen to constant querying as to when my family can use the internet again has kept me pretty busy.
Friday, July 07, 2006
Ponderances on Vietnam
As the wife and I return to life in the United States, I thought I would give some remembrances of Vietnam.
1. A Vietnamese friend is a friend for life.
I've believe that the native Vietnamese--those who grow up and live in Vietnam--are incredibly friendly people. But being friendly is different than being a friend. The Vietnamese do not make friends easily. They will be courteous and kind and helpful, but a friend is someone who shares your personal life, and they keep that sacred.
Over the last 6 months that I was in Vietnam, I think I made maybe one true friend that was not a student. Interestingly, I have made friends with a couple students, but all told, the total is probably around 4.
That does not mean I didn't have lots of fun--people were friendly, I knew lots of acquaintances, but only 4 that I could (and would) sit down with and talk about life.
That said, once you have a Viet as a friend, that bond is incredibly strong, and almost never fades. It is a great thing.
2. Can you not like Vietnamese food?
I love food. Period. I love to cook. I love to eat. I think cooking is truly an art. The Vietnamese are masters, from the big restaurants down to the street stalls and home-cooked meals. I am already missing the pho, bun thit nuong, rau muong, etc. that is so hard to find in America. Take that back...so hard to find done well in America. There are some great Vietnamese cooks in the States, but pho there misses something you find in a small bowl in the corner stall.
3. Social society
I miss talking to people every day. I miss the wonderful Vietnamese way of sitting outside in your hem after work or school and talking with each other, or heading downtown to play during the evening. The karaoke places are always packed, the live outdoor concerts rock, and you can't beat sitting atop the Hoa Duong cafe on Quang Trung street, chatting, eating ice cream, and watching the planes fly overhead and land at Tan Son Nhat airport.
4. Motorbikes
I love driving--absolutely love it. Leaving my motorbike was a hard thing. Driving a car is great, I love the speed, but there's something about feeling the wind in your hair, and having your wife hug you tight while sitting behind you that makes riding a motorbike intoxicating...
It's amazing, now driving a car again, how 40km/hr can feel so fast. I keep telling my wife that we should look into getting me a bullet bike in the States for going to medical school, but she won't buy it. She cuts out the "bullet" and says I can ride my "bike." Bummer. I mean, bikes are great and all, but they aren't motorbikes.
In addition to riding, I miss seeing a million people stuffed on one motorbike or bicycle. The Vietnamese are so industrious and ingenious--they use ever part of the animal for food, and every part of the motorbike for work. What's the most people you've ever seen on a motorbike?? I've seen 5 (counting children), but my brother swears he's seen 7 in the Philippines.
4. Pollution
My second week back in America I went mountain biking. Man, who wants clean air and mountains?? Why would I want to get away from people, and noise, and actually hear myself think?? Actually, I loved it. No matter how far out in the boonies you go in Vietnam, you still can't be by yourself. My wife and I went to see the tomb of Gia Long in Hue--the farthest tomb out, away from everything--and we were never out of eyesite of a house. Crazy. And in the city, the sleep in my eye was always black and oily and stained my clothes if I wiped it on my shirt. I know I lost years off my life riding behind busses that have never met any sort of EPA standards. Like smoking 400 cigarettes an hour, is riding behind those things...
But I do miss seeing my students enthusiasm at how much they loved Vietnam's environment and wanted to protect it. One day in class, they went off for 30 minutes on various ways to clean up Ho Chi Minh City, including planting trees and starting enviornmental clubs in schools. I hope that someday one of them does it, because a great HCMC would be even more amazing if it was clean.
5. Orphans
Finally, although I'm sure I could go on, I miss my orphans at the Phu My Orphanage. They are so innocent, so pure, so fun and loving. I grew more volunteering there than doing anything else in Vietnam. I know they served me far more than I served them. The men and women who work at the orphanage make pennies on the dollar, really, for the work they do, but they continue to come to work every day, and serve these children. Most are poor themselves--the salaries don't allow for much. They pool it with their husbands' or wives' salary and rent an apartment from which to raise their two children, always hoping that their kids will do well in school and have a better life. At moments they share their fears, that they do not make enough money to send their children to extra school, and so their children will not do well enough to enter college and will lead a life no different from theirs. Still, they give it all for those children. They are my heroes.
The beautiful thing about Vietnam, is that even when you leave it, it never truly leaves you.
[+/-] read/hide the rest of this post
1. A Vietnamese friend is a friend for life.
I've believe that the native Vietnamese--those who grow up and live in Vietnam--are incredibly friendly people. But being friendly is different than being a friend. The Vietnamese do not make friends easily. They will be courteous and kind and helpful, but a friend is someone who shares your personal life, and they keep that sacred.
Over the last 6 months that I was in Vietnam, I think I made maybe one true friend that was not a student. Interestingly, I have made friends with a couple students, but all told, the total is probably around 4.
That does not mean I didn't have lots of fun--people were friendly, I knew lots of acquaintances, but only 4 that I could (and would) sit down with and talk about life.
That said, once you have a Viet as a friend, that bond is incredibly strong, and almost never fades. It is a great thing.
2. Can you not like Vietnamese food?
I love food. Period. I love to cook. I love to eat. I think cooking is truly an art. The Vietnamese are masters, from the big restaurants down to the street stalls and home-cooked meals. I am already missing the pho, bun thit nuong, rau muong, etc. that is so hard to find in America. Take that back...so hard to find done well in America. There are some great Vietnamese cooks in the States, but pho there misses something you find in a small bowl in the corner stall.
3. Social society
I miss talking to people every day. I miss the wonderful Vietnamese way of sitting outside in your hem after work or school and talking with each other, or heading downtown to play during the evening. The karaoke places are always packed, the live outdoor concerts rock, and you can't beat sitting atop the Hoa Duong cafe on Quang Trung street, chatting, eating ice cream, and watching the planes fly overhead and land at Tan Son Nhat airport.
4. Motorbikes
I love driving--absolutely love it. Leaving my motorbike was a hard thing. Driving a car is great, I love the speed, but there's something about feeling the wind in your hair, and having your wife hug you tight while sitting behind you that makes riding a motorbike intoxicating...
It's amazing, now driving a car again, how 40km/hr can feel so fast. I keep telling my wife that we should look into getting me a bullet bike in the States for going to medical school, but she won't buy it. She cuts out the "bullet" and says I can ride my "bike." Bummer. I mean, bikes are great and all, but they aren't motorbikes.
In addition to riding, I miss seeing a million people stuffed on one motorbike or bicycle. The Vietnamese are so industrious and ingenious--they use ever part of the animal for food, and every part of the motorbike for work. What's the most people you've ever seen on a motorbike?? I've seen 5 (counting children), but my brother swears he's seen 7 in the Philippines.
4. Pollution
My second week back in America I went mountain biking. Man, who wants clean air and mountains?? Why would I want to get away from people, and noise, and actually hear myself think?? Actually, I loved it. No matter how far out in the boonies you go in Vietnam, you still can't be by yourself. My wife and I went to see the tomb of Gia Long in Hue--the farthest tomb out, away from everything--and we were never out of eyesite of a house. Crazy. And in the city, the sleep in my eye was always black and oily and stained my clothes if I wiped it on my shirt. I know I lost years off my life riding behind busses that have never met any sort of EPA standards. Like smoking 400 cigarettes an hour, is riding behind those things...
But I do miss seeing my students enthusiasm at how much they loved Vietnam's environment and wanted to protect it. One day in class, they went off for 30 minutes on various ways to clean up Ho Chi Minh City, including planting trees and starting enviornmental clubs in schools. I hope that someday one of them does it, because a great HCMC would be even more amazing if it was clean.
5. Orphans
Finally, although I'm sure I could go on, I miss my orphans at the Phu My Orphanage. They are so innocent, so pure, so fun and loving. I grew more volunteering there than doing anything else in Vietnam. I know they served me far more than I served them. The men and women who work at the orphanage make pennies on the dollar, really, for the work they do, but they continue to come to work every day, and serve these children. Most are poor themselves--the salaries don't allow for much. They pool it with their husbands' or wives' salary and rent an apartment from which to raise their two children, always hoping that their kids will do well in school and have a better life. At moments they share their fears, that they do not make enough money to send their children to extra school, and so their children will not do well enough to enter college and will lead a life no different from theirs. Still, they give it all for those children. They are my heroes.
The beautiful thing about Vietnam, is that even when you leave it, it never truly leaves you.
[+/-] read/hide the rest of this post
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
The Bleeding Ear 2.0
Introducing The Bleeding Ear v2.0!!
Thank you in advance to all my readers for patience. Although I feel the design is stable enough to be rolled out on the blog, it is nowhere near bug free. First and most obvious, the javascript on the page work fine in IE 6 and Opera 9, but not in the Mozilla based browsers, Firefox 1.5 and Flock Beta. In the latter two, the lists will show up or open but the white box will not expand around them like in the html only boxes on the sidebar. Talking with my friend Dennis, he explained the basics of identifying browsers, but we were interrupted before he could look into a fix.
Therefore, if any reader understands what I should code into my javascript to fix the glitch in Firefox 1.5/Flock, let me know please.
Otherwise, I think you will like the new, uncluttered design. I wanted to move to a different color scheme, tried a million things, and finally landed on blue and orange as accents rather than the base color. I also owe alot of the look to Cultured Code. I stumbled across their website and realized that was where I was trying to head haphazardly. My code is table based, but the look is similar. Over the next few weeks and months I hope to little by little fitch glitches and modify styles to make it more my own.
Suggestions are always welcome. TBE promises to continue to pontificate about and elucidate for you the foibles and important events the world over. I hope you enjoy.
Thank you in advance to all my readers for patience. Although I feel the design is stable enough to be rolled out on the blog, it is nowhere near bug free. First and most obvious, the javascript on the page work fine in IE 6 and Opera 9, but not in the Mozilla based browsers, Firefox 1.5 and Flock Beta. In the latter two, the lists will show up or open but the white box will not expand around them like in the html only boxes on the sidebar. Talking with my friend Dennis, he explained the basics of identifying browsers, but we were interrupted before he could look into a fix.
Therefore, if any reader understands what I should code into my javascript to fix the glitch in Firefox 1.5/Flock, let me know please.
Otherwise, I think you will like the new, uncluttered design. I wanted to move to a different color scheme, tried a million things, and finally landed on blue and orange as accents rather than the base color. I also owe alot of the look to Cultured Code. I stumbled across their website and realized that was where I was trying to head haphazardly. My code is table based, but the look is similar. Over the next few weeks and months I hope to little by little fitch glitches and modify styles to make it more my own.
Suggestions are always welcome. TBE promises to continue to pontificate about and elucidate for you the foibles and important events the world over. I hope you enjoy.
Monday, June 26, 2006
Why Americans Hate Soccer
As the world cup plays out many themes appear before our eyes: horrible American play, underdogs, brilliant Argentines, red and yellow cards, and referees in general.
People ask, every four years, why don't Americans love soccer as much as the rest of the world?? Various reasons are given, and most Americans themselves would say one of two: it's slow or there's not enough scoring.
(Which, I admit, is very similar to "it's slow")
However, I would like to submit that the real reason Americans don't like soccer, despite the scores of youth leagues, YMCA, etc that every young boy and girl play in throughout elementary school, is the referee system. No other game is so racked by controversial calls and allegations of bribery/tampering/corruption as soccer.
Today the Italians escaped Australia with a 1-0 victory on a last secong penalty kick that was NOT a penalty. Is it a coincidence that half Italy's players and its coach are implicated in the current referee tampering scandal in Serie A?? I'm not so sure...
Deep down inside, we Americans hate the brouhaha stirred up by the imbroglio of referee scandals. Any scandals. Cheating. Baseball, arguably the most subjective of American sports--and maybe also the slowest (closest in speed and scoring to soccer)--hears complaints by fans but never tampering. Why? First, there are ample referees on the field to cover most plays, and second, the referees are hired and evaluated by MLB in a way that ensures fair play so they can get a paycheck.
This is what mutes the Seahawks' complaints after the Superbowl, or Mark Cuban's complaints during the NBA finals: No matter how bad the missed call, the system of referees in American sports helps ensure that corruption is minimized via instant replay, where the paycheck comes from, and the number of refs on the field/court.
Contrast this with Europe. Cycling, a sport predominantly european suffers from huge amounts of substance abuse. BAseball goes into fits over an alleged use by one player. Soccer teams, like mini-kingdoms, make backroom deals to get what refs they want, and what happens if caught? They move down a league. People would be banned in America.
So it comes as no surprise that FIFA can't, or won't, keep a handle on the referees during this world cup. First, there should be more referees on the field--instead of one and the side judges, give two or three plus judges to accurately call fouls. Second, flops should be penalized harshly. It's not that hard for the ref to have hand-held instant replay piped from the tv coverage and it wouldn't slow the game down that much. Third, referee org structures should mimic the NFL, to minimize corruption.
Until then, Americans won't tune into soccer that much. They just don't like watching a game and wondering which team paid the ref the most.
[+/-] read/hide the rest of this post
People ask, every four years, why don't Americans love soccer as much as the rest of the world?? Various reasons are given, and most Americans themselves would say one of two: it's slow or there's not enough scoring.
(Which, I admit, is very similar to "it's slow")
We Americans hate the brouhaha stirred up by the imbroglio of referee scandals
However, I would like to submit that the real reason Americans don't like soccer, despite the scores of youth leagues, YMCA, etc that every young boy and girl play in throughout elementary school, is the referee system. No other game is so racked by controversial calls and allegations of bribery/tampering/corruption as soccer.
Today the Italians escaped Australia with a 1-0 victory on a last secong penalty kick that was NOT a penalty. Is it a coincidence that half Italy's players and its coach are implicated in the current referee tampering scandal in Serie A?? I'm not so sure...
Deep down inside, we Americans hate the brouhaha stirred up by the imbroglio of referee scandals. Any scandals. Cheating. Baseball, arguably the most subjective of American sports--and maybe also the slowest (closest in speed and scoring to soccer)--hears complaints by fans but never tampering. Why? First, there are ample referees on the field to cover most plays, and second, the referees are hired and evaluated by MLB in a way that ensures fair play so they can get a paycheck.
This is what mutes the Seahawks' complaints after the Superbowl, or Mark Cuban's complaints during the NBA finals: No matter how bad the missed call, the system of referees in American sports helps ensure that corruption is minimized via instant replay, where the paycheck comes from, and the number of refs on the field/court.
Contrast this with Europe. Cycling, a sport predominantly european suffers from huge amounts of substance abuse. BAseball goes into fits over an alleged use by one player. Soccer teams, like mini-kingdoms, make backroom deals to get what refs they want, and what happens if caught? They move down a league. People would be banned in America.
So it comes as no surprise that FIFA can't, or won't, keep a handle on the referees during this world cup. First, there should be more referees on the field--instead of one and the side judges, give two or three plus judges to accurately call fouls. Second, flops should be penalized harshly. It's not that hard for the ref to have hand-held instant replay piped from the tv coverage and it wouldn't slow the game down that much. Third, referee org structures should mimic the NFL, to minimize corruption.
Until then, Americans won't tune into soccer that much. They just don't like watching a game and wondering which team paid the ref the most.
[+/-] read/hide the rest of this post
Thursday, June 22, 2006
A Late Father's Day Story
I caught this Father's Day story the other day as I was surfing newspapers online. I think this is a must-read.
I love the mental progression he and his wife went through when they first met Fu Yang and decided to adopt him. I think it's very typical of many people that deal with disabled people.
Then, after meeting and falling in love with Fu Yang, Louis and his wife think this:
Especially with people that have disabilities. It is very easy to think "they are different from me" and not associate with them. I mean, how much does one have in common with someone who has Down syndrome, or is in a wheelchair, or has cerebral palsey? As a teenager in Houston, I had the opportunity every year to work with special olympics. However, I fell into that group--the doubting group--and spent most of my time doing jobs that took me away from interaction with the participants.
I'll talk more about my experience at a later date, but for now, read the article and make sure you look at DeLuca's photo and audio essay. Wonderful.
[+/-] read/hide the rest of this post
My only regret? That I couldn't do it more or start sooner.
Louis DeLuca, a staff photographer for the Dallas Morning News, shares his story of adopting Fu Yang, an orphan from China who was born with sever facial deformities.I love the mental progression he and his wife went through when they first met Fu Yang and decided to adopt him. I think it's very typical of many people that deal with disabled people.
"It was October, the middle of the football season and I was busy," Mr. DeLuca recalls. He complained to his wife, Dinah.We're all so busy in our lives, that we all think this, proably daily. Work, family, school -- legitimate time-consuming enterprises. And we all probably miss some great blessings in life by just going through our routines.
"He's an orphan," she said. "You can take the time."
Then, after meeting and falling in love with Fu Yang, Louis and his wife think this:
"I thought of every reason why I couldn't do it," he says, "language barriers, economic barriers. It costs lots of money to adopt a child." Adoption was the furthest thing from his mind. Especially a child with special needs.How often have we come to a trial in our lives and told ourselves "I have no special skills for that." We, like they, think up all the excuses we can not to power through and overcome the situation before us. But I feel strongly in God, and I feel he gives trials in life to make us stronger. When we see a trial or challenge and decide to endure, he will increase our skills--be it patience, knowledge, strength, kindness, etc.--to have success.
"I have no special skills for that," he says.
"It was a very volatile time for me emotionally. My heart was saying, 'Go for it! Do it!' And my head was saying, 'No way!' "
Especially with people that have disabilities. It is very easy to think "they are different from me" and not associate with them. I mean, how much does one have in common with someone who has Down syndrome, or is in a wheelchair, or has cerebral palsey? As a teenager in Houston, I had the opportunity every year to work with special olympics. However, I fell into that group--the doubting group--and spent most of my time doing jobs that took me away from interaction with the participants.
"In retrospect, it would have been a huge mistake not to have done this," he says. "When he's around, he has a way of brightening your life."That is how I felt in Vietnam the last five months. I had the opportunity to volunteer at an orphanage for disabled children. When I first volunteered, I did so half-heartedly. I didn't know if I could do it. The first day was so taxing mentally and physically. Most of the children have cerebral palsy. I volunteered there two days a week for four months and established such great relationships with the children and workers. My only regret? That I couldn't do it more or start sooner.
I'll talk more about my experience at a later date, but for now, read the article and make sure you look at DeLuca's photo and audio essay. Wonderful.
[+/-] read/hide the rest of this post
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