Panini

A couple months ago, I wrote about Gary _____, an interesting character I met while spending five April days in Bogotá with my friends Ben, Fed and Meg. Today's post features something else which unexpectedly became a recurring theme of our five days in Colombia's capital, and with the World Cup ending recently it seemed an appropriate time to finish up this long-delayed post.

Several weeks prior to this mini-vacation, I had started to notice a new fad among my students; they all had these soccer trading cards, which are sort of like traditional baseball cards, and they would bring them into class and, well, trade them. Even though I'm a big sports fan and I also love embracing trends around here, especially among kids, it mostly got on my nerves since it was disrupting my classes. Especially because they're not actually cards; they're stickers, which the kids peel off the backing in order to stick into the Official Album so they can try to complete their collection. This, of course, creates an endless flood of sticker-back garbage on my classroom floor. (Colombians are terrible at waste disposal of any kind, recycling or garbage.)

Although, I have to admit, even though the cards mostly annoyed me, they did look like fun, and when on several occasions my students urged me to get in on the game, I had to admit that if the opportunity presented itself I might be tempted. At first, the opportunity didn't present itself, since as far as I could tell (and according to one of my students), there was only one place to buy the cards in Barranquilla.

Bogotá was different. The cards were available on almost every street corner.

Meg buys a new set of cards

Actually, selling stuff on the streets seems to be generally more common in Bogotá. We constantly had people trying to sell us stuff that looked like it had just been lifted from a store, including flash drives and awesome Spiderman toys that actually climbed down walls on their own. The most hilarious, though, was the guy who tried to sell us a whole thing of laundry detergent. Dude, we're obviously tourists; what are we going to do with laundry detergent???!

Back to the cards. In Bogotá, my friends and I instantly noticed their prevalence, and I immediately recognized them as the same cards that had taken over my classroom. We also recognized the official album, where you stick the stickers, which I had previusly been sort of aware of, but hadn't really understood. And we all agreed that the cards would make for a fun diversion; on our own, merely collecting the cards would be boring, but having three friends with whom to wheel and deal sounded like a good time.

Fed and I lay our collections out on the conference table in order to better assess our strengths and weaknesses 

Despite coming to this conclusion early in our trip, we didn't get around to buying any until Saturday, our 4th day. But we were instantly hooked. While none of us know much about soccer, Fed and Ben and I are generally aware of the very top players, as well as which countries are usually the strongest. This meant that Brazilians instantly became the hottest commodity, even though we had no idea who most of the Brazilian players were. Other criteria for card-valuation began to emerge: single-named players (y'know, like Pele) were extremely valuable, as were Italians, since Fed obviously wanted all of them. And Ben was always open to trading anyone on his roster, except for one guy from Ghana we had never heard of, who became known simply as "The Ghanean". Through Ben's constant refusal to even consider trading him, we all started to really want this guy, and he became one of the most valuable commodities in the game.

Ben does a little research to ensure he's getting
fair value for his commodities

I was worried that Meg would get bored by all this sports nerding, and maybe she did, but if so she hid it well behind her hilarious strategy of trying to collect the best-looking player on each of the 32 World Cup teams. Upon opening a new pack of cards, we would instantly submit our five new players for Meg's inspection, and if she liked any of them, we'd start to talk trade. Needless to say, when all was said and done, Meg's team would have run away with the Mr. World Cup crown (and her team was definitely handsomer than this one).

Meg ogles one of her hotties

In the end, while it's tempting to beat oneself up over "wasting" valuable vacation time doing something pointless like trading soccer cards, it was just really fun. Joe Posnanski, superstar of the online baseball community, wrote a blog this morning about how going to the World Cup for the first time made him feel like a kid again, because, over and over, he heard diehard fans speak wistfully of the stories and legends of soccer that every fan learns as a kid and never forgets, the likes of which exist in every sport, from Babe Ruth's called shot to Paul Henderson's goal. Trading cards are part of that too, I think; I'll never be into baseball or hockey cards the way I was as a kid, because I simply know too much, but spending a few hours over a couple days playing General Manager with some friends allowed me to re-live my childhood trading card glory.

Plus, when I got back to Barranquilla, I totally grifted some of my students. Haha, suckers. (And I got a text from Fed claiming he'd done the same in the Bogotá Airport.)

The Boardroom

The End of an Era

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I left Colombia for the foreseeable future one week ago today, and several days later I encountered a machine that provided me with an apt bookend to my time across the Caribbean Sea. (I still plan on writing several blog posts about Colombia, specifically about the recent 10-day trip I took with my parents, but non-linearity has always been a hallmark of Xlog Xave's.) No, I'm not talking about a literal bookend-making machine, though that would have given me the great pleasure of being able to apply the word "literally" to a phrase that is almost always figurative.

As a matter of fact, the machine in question is a guitar pick-making machine, the likes of which I had never seen before. A music store near my parents' house here in Palo Alto, California has this do-it-yourself machine sitting out in the public area of the store, with an attached sign giving old credit cards as a suggested use.

I was delighted to realize that I did, in fact, have recently-outdated cards given my time in Colombia. So I took out my Cedula, the Colombian ID card which is kind of like a SIN but with a photo ID, briefly wondered whether I might need it at some point before noticing the expiry date of July 22, 2010, the day before I fly back to Canada, and went to work. The result:

In retrospect, if I had been more efficient (and as an industrial engineer, that should always be the first thing on my mind), I might have been able to get four. Furthermore, it would have been cool to get a fingerprint-pick, though that probably would have ruled out the face-pick, which I was only half-successful in creating anyway.

Nevertheless, three perfectly good guitar picks. And given the presence of most of my name, my year of birth, and part of my face, I might even be able to use this as ID!

If it turns out that I do need this for some reason, like to get back into Canada, I can always re-build.

What I Would Like To See For The Rest Of The World Cup

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I´m on vacation with my parents in Colombia right now, and of course the World Cup is everywhere, even though Colombia didn´t make it. Occasionaly, we´ve been able to fit a match into our vacation schedule, including today, when we watched Spain beat Portugal 1-0 in a restaurant at the top of Manizales, a city in the coffee-growing region of Colombia (aka El Cafetero).

The game was the last in the round of 16, and now there´s a bit of a break before the quarter-finals start on Friday. Even though I´ve had favourite teams since the beginning of the tournament, this feeling of temporary finality got me thinking about how I want the rest of the tournament to go down. So, without further ado, my best-case scenario for the remainder of the World Cup. (This is not what I think is going to happen; I wouldn´t presume to know enough about soccer to predict that. It´s just what I want to happen.)

Quarterfinal: Uruguay vs. Ghana

Looking at this game by itself, I´m kind of ambivalent. I would like to see Ghana win because they´re the only African nation left, but at the same time I like Uruguay for equally meaningless reasons; their jerseys, their history as the winner of the first World Cup, and I´m not sure why, but their star Diego Forlan strikes me as a cool guy.

But I can´t look at this match in a vacuum, because What I Want To See For The Rest Of The World Cup includes subsequent rounds, so I must consider the match-ups created by the outcome of this game, and for reasons that will soon become clear I want Uruguay to win this game.

Quarterfinal: Netherlands vs. Brazil

For some reason, the Netherlands are my favourite soccer country. I think I decided that during the last Euro Cup when they looked like the strongest team in the tournament in the preliminary round and then flamed out in the knockout round, as predicted by the English friends of my London-residing cousin with whom I watched said flame-out. I don´t know why; maybe it´s the orange, maybe it´s because I´ve met a lot of cool Dutch people.

Brazil is the favourite in this match, so I want to see them dominate the first half and take a 2-0 lead into the second period, at which point the Netherlands will turn it on and perform one of the great comebacks in World Cup history, winning 3-2 in extra time.

Quarterfinal: Argentina vs. Germany

Like the Netherlands, I find myself drawn to Germany and this goes back (at least) to the ´08 Euro Cup. A couple weeks after watching my favourite team lose while visiting my cousin in England, I was in Strasbourg, France, very close to the German border. It just so happened that Germany made it to the final against Spain, so I hopped over the border for about 24 hours, still the only 24 hours I´ve ever spent in Germany, to watch the game. Germany lost, but I had a great time, and now I consider Germany my second favourite team. At least I think so. It´s one of those things: I honestly don´t know who I´d cheer for in a Netherlands/Germany final, and I don´t think I will know until the game starts, if such a situation occurs.

My ideal scenario in this game would involve tons of amazing plays by Messi, because he´s Messi. He would score like 3 or 4 or 17 goals, but the organized German squad would pick apart the Argentinian defense whenever Messi couldn´t get near the ball to squeak out a 4-3 victory.

Quarterfinal: Paraguay vs. Spain

Things have worked out such that I´ve watched a lot of Spain games in this World Cup, but I have no particular attachment to them, other than the fact that I got Xavi Hernandez in Panini trading cards when Fed, Ben and Meg and I got obsessed with them in Bogota. I don´t really have a particular attachment to Paraguay either, but for previously-mentioned but as-yet-undisclosed reasons I want them to win this game, against all odds.

Semifinals: Netherlands vs. Uruguay, Germany vs. Paraguay

I´ve already explained why I like each team, so the rest of this shouldn´t take long. I want the Netherlands and Germany to win their respective semi-finals, which they would be clear favourites for if they faced these opponents. The only caveat here is, as mentioned, I´m not sure who I would cheer for in such a match-up, and it might be more fun to have a clear personal favourite in the World Cup Final.

You´ve probably already figured this out, but I want Paraguay and Uruguay to win their quarterfinals and then lose their semifinals to create the seminal "Battle of the Countries That End in Guay" Third Place Game. It´s just too bad Chadguay isn´t around to create some sort of three-team free-for-all Guay orgy.

Alternate Scenario: Final Four of Brazil, Argentina, Paraguay, Uruguay

It´s crazy that four of the final eight teams are South American, and even moreso that they´re all in different quarter-finals. It would be infinitely crazy if they all won to make the All-South-American Final Four, and I would love to see it. And you know what? It totally could happen. Uruguay and Brazil are the favourites in their games, and Argentina and Germany are pretty close. Paraguay is the weak link, facing an excellent Spain team. It would be very cool, but my #1 and 1a teams are standing in the way of hoping this happens.

Americana

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It took me a while to think of a title for this post, because there really isn't a unifying theme; it's just a bunch of observations and occurrences from my last hours in Colombia and first day in an English-speaking country in almost a year. But at some point the above title came to me, and it fits well, especially because it refers to both parts of my journey. Something I've noticed in Colombia is that Americans, upon being asked where they're from, should not answer "America", because South Americans think of themselves as "Americans" as well. Thus, even though there isn't a connecting narrative between parts of this entry, the title is that unifier.

*****

The day started auspiciously.

Actually, it didn't start auspiciously at all, I just think saying it does gives this whole post an awesome sense of expectation that will keep you reading beyond the first paragraph. And you're still reading! Ha, it worked.

Anyway, the day started slowly with me finishing up the packing I hadn't finished the previous night, but it really picked up with my cabbie's music selection on the way to the airport. After 10 minutes of standard Colombian radio (salsa, merengue, etc.), the guy got out a CD, meaning he had very specifically decided on this particular music. Very soon I discovered that "this music" referred to a terrible pan-flute version of "My Heart Will Go On" that sounded a lot like this awesome recorder version. This fantastic piece was followed by similar pan-flute covers of Let it Be, Unchained Melody and (!!!) Africa (by Toto). Incredible.

*****

When I arrived at the Barranquilla airport, I half-expected to run into students from my school, since seemingly every one of my students has relatives in Miami, or regularly goes to Miami for vacation, or has a huge Miami fetish, I dunno. And my students are all fairly well-off, or they wouldn't go to a private school. Well, I was right - there were two girls from grade nine going to Miami to meet a tour group. They weren't my students, but I had substituted in their class a few times. By a twist of fate, we ended up sitting beside each other on the plane, and they were endlessly amused by my Spanish interactions with the stewardesses, especially my use of the colloquial "porfa" (short for por favor).

*****

A week or two ago, Elizabeth asked me if I thought I'd get culture shock upon returning to Canada (or the USA, as the case has turned out to be). I said I didn't really think so; I mean, I've lived in Canada my whole life apart from the last 10 months. Obviously there are things I'll need to re-adjust to, but will anything legitimately shock me? I found that hard to believe. But today, within my first hours back on the continent, I was proven wrong.

*****

When I arrived at the Fort Lauderdale airport, I decided to try taking the cheap way to my hotel, since a cab would run me something like 30 bucks. Even though this would involve lugging three heavy bags around, since I'm basically in the process of moving, and taking at least two different buses, I still went for it. I like taking public transit - it's my favourite way to learn a new place, partly because I often get lost and see parts of the city I would never see otherwise. Not that I was hoping to get lost with three huge suitcases.

After asking a few different airport officials, I found myself at a bus stop outside the airport, where an extremely friendly lady in a wheelchair helped me figure out exactly what bus to take. It was only after she got on to the first bus that came and confirmed my instructions with the driver that I realized she didn't need the wheelchair, and it was only after coming to that realization that I noticed the presumably complimentary wheelchair at EVERY bus stop in the airport. Haha, classic Florida.

When my bus eventually came, I asked the driver to let me know when we reached the place where I would eventually have to transfer to another bus in order to get to my hostel. He enthusiastically assured me that he would, and I sat down, re-assured that I would get to the hostel fairly quickly and hassle-free, possibly even in time to get to the Florida Marlins game I was hoping to attend.

The bus gradually filled up as we got further from the airport and further into the city of Fort Lauderdale. One of the passengers who was forced to stand near me because of the fullness of the bus was a middle-aged Spanish-looking guy, and I just didn't get a good feeling about him. He looked angry. Well, I was right. Shortly after getting on the bus, the driver was forced to makhttp://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=3139234229404821775&postID=8152879144482325713e a slightly jolty maneuver for one reason or another. It was barely anything, really. But the dude instantly said "f***ing bus drivers, man", fairly loudly, possibly loudly enough for the driver to hear. Dude, relax!

Eventually we started going past streets I recognized from my previous research, and I started getting worried, but I decided not to say anything because 1) I was sitting right in the front and the driver could see me every time he turned around, so I thought there was no way he could forget and 2) in Colombia, I asked this favour of drivers on many occasions, and it never failed. But when we got to the end of the line and I asked him if this was where I transferred to the other bus and he got all frustrated and yelled at me, I knew that he had forgotten.

Which, okay fine, I was a little exasperated, and I no longer expected to make the baseball game, but I was resolute and determined to make it to the hotel the cheap way, so I asked him what I should do. But before giving me the next set of instructions, he chewed me out for being an idiot and not getting off where I was supposed to and "that's why we have a talking bus!" Dude, I don't even know what the stop was called, how was that supposed to help me? And you SAID you would tell me when to get off. All I wanted was for him to apologize and for me to be on my way, but he had to act like I had personally offended him. Lame. Dude, relax!

Oh, also, the handle on my suitcase completely broke off when I was getting off the bus at the end of the line. This is a bit of foreshadowing - I'm hoping to write a post soon on all the things that are broken in my life.

Later, while watching the NBA finals in the comfort of my hostel common area, a group of people about my age who could accurately be described as white trash came in and got into a dispute with the very friendly and helpful Peruvian manager. These people had some weird story about how one of the girls' grandmas had booked the room with her credit card, so they didn't have a credit card they could use as a deposit to protect against room damages, etc., and her grandma was in the hospital so they couldn't get her credit card (leading one to wonder how and why she made the reservation in the first place). The hotel chick was being very reasonable: all she needed was a credit card that corresponded to one of the people there. Apparently, among the four of them, that was not possible. So they got angry and yelled at her, at one point even spouting "first of all, I don't need your attitude", when she wasn't giving ANY sort of attitude. Dudes, relax!

The reason I've related these anecdotes in succession is because this was my first instance of culture shock. People are assholes here! And now that I think about it, differences in the behaviour and demeanor of people is probably the form that most of my culture shock will take. As I said before, there are a lot of cultural differences that I will need to re-adjust to, but won't come as a shock, like public transportation, available food products, etc. But human interaction is something so deeply ingrained, subtle and less superficially apparent that it sure does take you by surprise when you are completely adjusted to a different culture.

Of course, most of the people I've met are not assholes. And I'm hoping that this forgotten Assholism is less pronounced in Canada than here in the USA. But it will be there, to some extent, and meeting three in the span of a few hours is something that never just happened in ten months in Colombia.

*****

Back to my bus odyssey. When I finally got to the transfer spot, I had a long wait for the next bus, and during this wait something fun happened - I was asked for help and was able to give it! This is one of the best feelings, always, and especially when you're in a new city that you hardly know. It's happened to me before - one time I successfully gave directions in London, England, after being there for just a few days. But this was the first time that it happened in another language. Yep, that's right, I was asked for help in Spanish, in a city I had arrived in hours earlier for the first time in my life, and was able to successfully answer. Awesome!

Another note on language: while waiting for the second bus, a pair of girls sat down beside me and started talking in what I tentatively identified as German, and later confirmed when I heard "ein, zvi, tri". They got on the same bus as me and helped me get to the hostel when it became apparent to them that I was clueless - they were staying at the same hostel anyway. On the walk to the hostel, they asked me where I was from, and I followed by noting "you're from Germany, right?" They were impressed. Boo yeah.

*****

I've been amazed by the amount of Canadian flags in Fort Lauderdale. Seemingly every hotel and some restaurants had two or three flags: American, Canadian, and sometimes a third. I also went by a food stand/permanent food truck type thing that sells... yep, you guessed it, poutine. Incredible! My hostel chick later informed me that Fort Lauderdale typically sees a huge winter influx of Canadians, especially French-Canadians. Weird! I wonder why French Canada in particular is attracted to this city - maybe it's just a self-perpetuating community thing, like now that Fort Lauderdale is known as the French-Canada winter spot, more French-Canadians vacation here.

*****

I had forgotten that it was game seven of the NBA finals, but after dinner I was channel-surfing in the hostel and remembered. When I arrived on the right channel, there came a shout from the neighbouring kitchen: "hey, are you turning it to... oh, yeah, sweet". I was glad to win the approval of my hostel-mate, and after he finished cooking dinner we sat down to watch the game together. Ironically, it was the first NBA game I'd watched in the entire season, having been in Colombia for the whole time.

Unfortunately, the lobby area closes at 11, and this happened to be with about 8 minutes left in the 4th quarter of a very close game. So we were kicked out and had to find a bar on the boardwalk to catch the last few minutes. I lost my watching buddy, since I had to go back to the room for a minute, and I ended up in a bar that could only be described as a hillbilly bar. It was very charming: the southern-accented long-haired dudes and ugly women were busy playing pool and couldn't have given less of a shit about the basketball game, except when one particularly drunk middle-aged woman noticed it and shouted "oh, Boston's playing! Go Boston!" and promptly went back to whatever she was doing (drunking). The bartender was your classic southern belle; tall and beautiful with a thick accent, and while inspecting my ID jokingly shook her head and tsk tsked.

When there were just a couple minutes remaining it became apparent that one of the pool players was interested in the game, and ambled over to the TV to turn the sound up. When this happened, the whole bar (it wasn't that full, about 15 people) tuned in and excitedly watched the last two minutes of the last game of the NBA season. Probably the only two minutes they watched all year. Hey, that's not much less than I watched, I guess. Anyway, it was fun to have company in finishing out the game, even though the team I and the drunk chick were cheering for (Boston) lost.

The game ended, there was a sense of "well, that's that", the hillbillies went back to pool, and I went back to the hotel, my first day back in North America over.

*****

Wow, this might be the longest entry I've ever written. Can't believe you made it all the way!

Math Comics 3 - Number Trouble

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Here's part 3 in the Math Comics series, entitled "Number Trouble". 

Panel 1: There were numbers and numbers
Panel 2: Everyone had a partner
Panel 3: But not number 2. He was sooo alone...
2: "I'm so alone"
Panel 4: He was very very sad.... He didn't talk with anyone
2: (sad face)
Panel 5: But one day he found someone.
2: (surprised face) "She is so cute!"
Panel 6: He tried and tried to talk to her, but he was too shy."
2: "he he"
Panel 7: When he see her, he break in pieces
2: (heart)
(BOOM - 2 explodes)
Panel 8: He was sad because he couldn't talk to her:
2: "not again"
Panel 9: But one day something amazing happen.
2: (happy face)
Girl 2: "hi 2"
Panel 10: (BOOM - 2 explodes again)
Panel 11: 2: "hi!"
Girl 2: "Wanna hang out?"
Panel 12: 2: "yay"
Panel 13: so they were in love, and hang out
Panel 14: And get in love=
2: "Me (2) + you (2) = for(4)ever"
Panel 15: NOT AVAILABLE FOR KIDS
Panel 16: and had many many kids.
(2 and girl 2 are surrounded by 6 little 2s)


Commentary
This is a sweet love story, but with two completely awesome additions. First, the thing about 2 exploding every time he tries to talk to girl 2 is hilarious. Maybe the girl who wrote this is a big Futurama fan. And second, of course, the last two panels are genius, especially coming from a very sweet and cute little grade 7 girl. I also like the 2+2 thing.

Math Comics 2 - A Farewell

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Here's part 2 in the Math Comics series, entitled "7A A Farewell" (7A refers to the class section that completed this assignment)

Transcript

Panel 1: Students, as numbers, are gathered in the classroom before the teacher's desk.
4: "Mr Dave"
8: "Dave Mr."
6: "Mr. Dave!"
2: "Mr. Dave"
Panel 2: 3 (Mr. Dave): "What are u planning 2 do?"
Panel 3: 1 and 4 (simultaneously, in thought): "2-morrow we are 4teen."
Panel 4: Banner: 7A PARTY
2: "Come dance Dave"
3 (Mr. Dave): "ok... 4 u?"
Panel 5: 1, 4, and 8 (in unison): "we are going 2 miss u Mr. Dave!"
Panel 6: 3 (Mr. Dave): "Ur 2 Gr8 2 be 4gotten"
6: "Thanks!"
4: "We luv u!"

Commentary: I would say this was the only example of blatant sucking up, but since it's the end of the year, there isn't much potential reward for sucking up, so let's just say this one was very sweet. I also like how they totally nailed my speech patterns. A little secret: math teachers are CONSTANTLY trying to use as many words-that-include-numbers as possible. Call it subliminal teaching.

Math Comics 1 - Who is My Value

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This week is exam week at school, and being the last exam week of the year, we won't be learning any new material. So in class today, I had my students make Math Comics. I scanned them because they're totally awesome. Here's the first, along with transcript.

I should note that my example comic on the board involved the number 3 looking for love, so of course all the kids copied my idea and made their comic about numbers (or symbols) as sentient beings.

Transcript:

Title: Who Is My Value??

Panel 1: X (sad): "I want to find a value"

Panel 2: X: "Hi two! are you my value"

2: "No, Im' not. I can help you find one"

Panel 3: (numbers are scattered everywhere) X: "The aren't may value"

2: "let's go to other place"

Panel 4: ONE YEAR LATER

X: "I am tired"

2: "me too"

Panel 5: X: "Nobody's my value"

2: "let's take he last look"

Panel 6: (equation appears: x/4=1/2)

X: "I found were to be"

2: "oh yes it is in the operation"

Panel 7: (equation is solved: 2x=4, x=2)

Panel 8: X: "Solving that equation you will be my value"

2: "what?!? every time looking and I was your value!"

Commentary: we start with one of the best. A great story that is funny and clever and touching and has a well-defined arc. Also, this may come as a surprise, but the level of English is pretty high here. It's all about context - just wait for some of the others.