Some things...the weirdest of things...trigger a memory. A random memory.
Like...some dough had gone bad (this is possibly a year back) and guess what memory it triggered? The first or second day of school, back in high school days when the school folks assembled a room full of 100-pg and 200-pg notebooks to be given to students. The smell of the dough going bad was exactly like the smell of the glue used to stick the jute/cloth binder that held the books together. One notebook caused you to wince, a sack full caused you to feel nauseous. A room full of such books caused you to get high and have distinctly horrifying hallucinations. Especially with the Mumbai rain out in full force and the smell of damp clothes and wet socks adding to the attack on the olfactory senses.
Obviously, the school got the notebooks for less in bulk and also avoided the premium, luxury notebooks for rich kids v/s blotting paper notebooks for the poor ones.
So everyone got the blotting paper kind.
Yesterday, I was reading my latest book "Fortune at the Bottom of the Pyramid" and there was a reference to a Mexican bread company...Bimbo!
Now any desi kid who grew up in India, especially in Mumbai remembers a few specific bread companies that operated back in the day of socialist raj- Wibs, Britannia and....Bimbo.
Each bread had a unique smell...mainly because of the yeast used to make it.
If you could afford it, you went for Britannia. Short on money? Buy Wibs and the days Britannia and Wibs was out, you bought Bimbo.
Still remember the white, blue and orange alternating squared wax paper cover.
We tried to find the loaf that seemed tightly packed. Basically it meant that roaches or lizards could not have made their way into the loaf. There were no coated wire ties or transparent plastic bags with plastic holds in those days.
I used to wait for those Sunday mornings when my grand ma would send me to fetch the premium bread while she cut slices of tomatoes, cucumber and made mint chutney and made awesome sandwiches. If I was lucky my grandma would let me have two sandwiches and half of a third one.
I remember making coffee icecream...basically I 'forgot' my strong milk coffee in the freezer overnight and then I'd wait for the 10 am cartoon show to start. In those days of DD1 and DD2 we didnt have the luxury of having fun shows right through the day. You got to see one...maybe two...interesting shows on a Sunday. I'd make sure that I spaced my sandwiches (or Maggie) right so that the last bite would be a min or two before that fun hr ended.
It was optimization of a simple joy.
In Malegaon, the small town where my folks live, premium bread was very hard to come by, back in the day. So the bread we got was made at the local bakery...simply called "Apni Bakery". It had the best naankatai, khaari biscuits and loose 'Nice' biscuits which he sold by weight. It was fascinating for a young city boy.
The bread wasn't always very tasty and the slices were really small. Possibly 2.5 inch square. Tiny. But the intriguing part was that it didnt come from some faceless corporation. It was made by the guy I spoke to at the counter.
The days have changed and my brain and senses are overwhelmed by a flood of bread choices- white, whole wheat, 5 grain, 7 grain, sourdough, baguettes, foccacia, and what not. But none has an association. Usually, I buy the same brand of bread but I'd be damned if I remember the name.
A simple thing...a simple trigger. A sweet memory.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Saturday, January 20, 2007
The week that was
Seems just like yesterday that I blogged. Turns out it was 5 days ago.
The week was 5 days of good , solid hard work and nothing else really. All the things I plan that I want to do on a day to day basis come to nought. I want to read some every day. I want to write a page or two every day. Just doesn't happen. It takes discipline to do thing you like on a daily basis, especially if you work 9 to 9 or 9 to 10 everyday.
I need to take control of my life. I love the thrill of the chase in business. I love my work on days it is exciting. But I have so much more to offer. So many more skills to develop.
I'm just afraid, someday I might decide to drop it all and become some traveling hippie. Well, that's not REALLY going to happen. But I don't want to tire of this fun at work. I have a short attention span. Thank God consulting love THAT as much as I do.
The week was 5 days of good , solid hard work and nothing else really. All the things I plan that I want to do on a day to day basis come to nought. I want to read some every day. I want to write a page or two every day. Just doesn't happen. It takes discipline to do thing you like on a daily basis, especially if you work 9 to 9 or 9 to 10 everyday.
I need to take control of my life. I love the thrill of the chase in business. I love my work on days it is exciting. But I have so much more to offer. So many more skills to develop.
I'm just afraid, someday I might decide to drop it all and become some traveling hippie. Well, that's not REALLY going to happen. But I don't want to tire of this fun at work. I have a short attention span. Thank God consulting love THAT as much as I do.
Sunday, January 14, 2007
A fun filled winter afternoon
So yesterday was tepid. So what? The temperature was close to freezing..or at least its 'LA equivalent'. The regular LA person begins to describe the temperature as "it's freezing" when it falls below 50 or 45F. When it falls to 35ish you know the end of human existence and the next Ice Age is near.
Well today wasn't quite all bad. In fact today was a lot of fun! Unanticipatedly!
Alps has been salivating at BMers and Audis for quite some time now. He is finally out on the market for a BMer. Went out to look for one and I thought I overheard them say that they were going out shooting. I decided to join in.
So visualize this. 4-5 desi guys in a car. One guy gets out...this in a posh neighborhood...goes to another car's boot, takes out a shotgun that looks more like an anti aircraft gun to me, and peacefully examines it on the road. NOT the kind of thing you want to be doing in the street these days. But Jude isn't given to such rational thought.
Went for desi food and it took us so long to get our ration of parathas, chole bhaturas, and lassi that it was well on 4 pm when we got out of there. Place closes at 5pm in the seedy San Fernando valley.
We were reluctant. Altaf was insistent. He won.
So we were on our way there, got there just in time to hear that it was closing.
The lady still let us through. So we got through to the skeet shooting range with Jude's howitzer.
I was freezing my bollocks off even with a thermal combo on. And I'm supposed to be OK with cold.
So we shot 3 shots each of that death-donor gun. That thing is LOUD. As usual, I didnt take ear muffs or ear plugs and though not deafening, each slug makes you wince.
As you'd expect, its damn difficult to hit a skeet with a shotgun slug.
So we were getting a few shots off, when this chunky old Bubba walked up to us in all right ernest and on his way started out loudly that he had 5 issues with us (color wasn't one of them).
The primary one being this wasn't your usual skeet shooting gun but a mother of a...as I have said before...defense shotgun. The kind that you keep under your bed and gives thieves a heart attack when you show it to them.
Net net- We weren't allowed to shoot further.
I'm not sure I'm ready for skeet shooting or for trap shooting just yet.
I prefer indoor or outdoor pistol or air rifle shooting. I prefer the peace and concentration there than the ruckus out in the field with skeet. Next time is going to be some pistol and possible some air rifle. At $40 it isnt too cheap but isnt too exhorbitant either.
So gout out of there early. Came back home by 5:45ish and the gang wanted to do something else.
Decided tennis was it. Went to the local floodlit facility for a few games.
I was rusty initially...the first 15 mins. Havent played in a long time.
But after a few warm-up faux pas...I was ready to serve a few zingers that really whistled out.
I was getting great whip, speed and angle. Jude was standing a clear 5-7 ft behind the baseline to take my serves. Felt hella good.
Played for close on 2-3 hrs. Tomorrow...this is going to hurt a lot. A LOT!
So back home I'm in my room, sitting on my pillow, and blogging my ass off.
It's been a peaceful weekend. An end to 10 slow rested days...were they really so rested? Maybe not.
But one thing is for sure. I'm beginning to do way more interesting things that a) I couldnt afford as a student and b) I possibly never would do in India.
But it's been fun over all.
Next few things in the pipeline
1) Learn golf
2) Learn scuba diving- wanna scuba dive on the great barrier reef one day
3) Sky dive
4) Para-glide
5) BASE jump
6) Snorkle
LAst but not the least 7) SURF BABY!!!!
Well today wasn't quite all bad. In fact today was a lot of fun! Unanticipatedly!
Alps has been salivating at BMers and Audis for quite some time now. He is finally out on the market for a BMer. Went out to look for one and I thought I overheard them say that they were going out shooting. I decided to join in.
So visualize this. 4-5 desi guys in a car. One guy gets out...this in a posh neighborhood...goes to another car's boot, takes out a shotgun that looks more like an anti aircraft gun to me, and peacefully examines it on the road. NOT the kind of thing you want to be doing in the street these days. But Jude isn't given to such rational thought.
Went for desi food and it took us so long to get our ration of parathas, chole bhaturas, and lassi that it was well on 4 pm when we got out of there. Place closes at 5pm in the seedy San Fernando valley.
We were reluctant. Altaf was insistent. He won.
So we were on our way there, got there just in time to hear that it was closing.
The lady still let us through. So we got through to the skeet shooting range with Jude's howitzer.
I was freezing my bollocks off even with a thermal combo on. And I'm supposed to be OK with cold.
So we shot 3 shots each of that death-donor gun. That thing is LOUD. As usual, I didnt take ear muffs or ear plugs and though not deafening, each slug makes you wince.
As you'd expect, its damn difficult to hit a skeet with a shotgun slug.
So we were getting a few shots off, when this chunky old Bubba walked up to us in all right ernest and on his way started out loudly that he had 5 issues with us (color wasn't one of them).
The primary one being this wasn't your usual skeet shooting gun but a mother of a...as I have said before...defense shotgun. The kind that you keep under your bed and gives thieves a heart attack when you show it to them.
Net net- We weren't allowed to shoot further.
I'm not sure I'm ready for skeet shooting or for trap shooting just yet.
I prefer indoor or outdoor pistol or air rifle shooting. I prefer the peace and concentration there than the ruckus out in the field with skeet. Next time is going to be some pistol and possible some air rifle. At $40 it isnt too cheap but isnt too exhorbitant either.
So gout out of there early. Came back home by 5:45ish and the gang wanted to do something else.
Decided tennis was it. Went to the local floodlit facility for a few games.
I was rusty initially...the first 15 mins. Havent played in a long time.
But after a few warm-up faux pas...I was ready to serve a few zingers that really whistled out.
I was getting great whip, speed and angle. Jude was standing a clear 5-7 ft behind the baseline to take my serves. Felt hella good.
Played for close on 2-3 hrs. Tomorrow...this is going to hurt a lot. A LOT!
So back home I'm in my room, sitting on my pillow, and blogging my ass off.
It's been a peaceful weekend. An end to 10 slow rested days...were they really so rested? Maybe not.
But one thing is for sure. I'm beginning to do way more interesting things that a) I couldnt afford as a student and b) I possibly never would do in India.
But it's been fun over all.
Next few things in the pipeline
1) Learn golf
2) Learn scuba diving- wanna scuba dive on the great barrier reef one day
3) Sky dive
4) Para-glide
5) BASE jump
6) Snorkle
LAst but not the least 7) SURF BABY!!!!
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Hora from Boston
Boston is a global city. It is an international city. It has a personality. A personality that has come with age and having seen many a blizzard and snow storms. Of having lived through rain and hail and wind. A face leathered by the forces of nature. Of a face with lines. Of a work of art.
They say tell a man by his underwear, a woman by her stockings and a country by the way it treats its old.
In the same vein, tell a city by its downtown.
I'm not sure where Boston downtown is. I'm not sure if I'm in Boston downtown right now.
I'm putting up at a fairly nice hotel (its NOT a Four Seasons or Parker Meridian but hey I'm not a Partner or a VC yet) across from Qunicy'a market.
The place is replete with tradition and stories and history.
The whizzened face of this old city.
I walked around the financial district and along the harbor, as is my wont when I go to a new city. Walking around a city gives one a good feel for the city and its people.
Leaving my cold induced bias against Boston aside I have enjoyed my first few days here.
It has the typical East Coast Old England charm to it.
Add to it the spectacular views from the 39th floor of my office building.
Overall, I came away impressed though not in love.
Like I say about SF-a love affair with SF is a love affair waiting to happen.
The British lilt to the speech of Bostonian women is intriguing...but it is an intrigue more of novelty. Not one designed to make me fall in love for ever and ever.
They say tell a man by his underwear, a woman by her stockings and a country by the way it treats its old.
In the same vein, tell a city by its downtown.
I'm not sure where Boston downtown is. I'm not sure if I'm in Boston downtown right now.
I'm putting up at a fairly nice hotel (its NOT a Four Seasons or Parker Meridian but hey I'm not a Partner or a VC yet) across from Qunicy'a market.
The place is replete with tradition and stories and history.
The whizzened face of this old city.
I walked around the financial district and along the harbor, as is my wont when I go to a new city. Walking around a city gives one a good feel for the city and its people.
Leaving my cold induced bias against Boston aside I have enjoyed my first few days here.
It has the typical East Coast Old England charm to it.
Add to it the spectacular views from the 39th floor of my office building.
Overall, I came away impressed though not in love.
Like I say about SF-a love affair with SF is a love affair waiting to happen.
The British lilt to the speech of Bostonian women is intriguing...but it is an intrigue more of novelty. Not one designed to make me fall in love for ever and ever.
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
Med School friends come back into my life
For a fairly long time I was not in touch with the med school gang.
Lotsa reasons really.
1) They were getting their asses whipped in residency
2) Too busy trying to stand up on their own two feet
3) Trying to work 4 jobs at once to make some money to open a clinic
4) Trying to manage an affair or a marriage at the same time
5) Desi docs are not technophiles
So 4-5 yrs after the dumbest webheads and netheads in India had discovered Orkut my classmates discovered it too. Slowly, they are beginning to trickle in.
My school community which was almost exclusively juniors now has a growing contingent of the oldies who were my super senrs.
Old cricket matches, annual functions, professors, asshole bureaucrats in college, Prithvish, Rangoli, Rajawadi, Kurla Bhabha, locals, bike ride in the rain to college, casulty...everything came down in a mad rush of memories.
When they were happening to me I was unhappy, angry, sad, disappointed with that life. I deserved better. But humans have a way of rationalizing the past. Of romanticizing it. Of glorifying it. Of certain events being enhanced just that little bit with every narration till every day in that past begins to seem like the perfect day in a Paradise. A Paradise that wasn't.
Some friends I don't identify with now. Some folks I didnt care about much back then and dont care much about now. But in that glorified past, even they get tagged as friends. Friends become almost brother like.
Makes one yearn for that past.
It wasnt all bad.
There is good in the world. There was good in my past.
We were co-passengers on a journey to a common destination...or to a common transit point.
Some of these co-passengers stay with us through to the end of life's journey. Some we part with at transit. Hopefully, they were a pleasure for whatever time you spent together.
You may meet them later, at another transit point in life.
Share a few beers, revive memories and move on.
Transits cannot become destinations...don't treat them as such.
Lotsa reasons really.
1) They were getting their asses whipped in residency
2) Too busy trying to stand up on their own two feet
3) Trying to work 4 jobs at once to make some money to open a clinic
4) Trying to manage an affair or a marriage at the same time
5) Desi docs are not technophiles
So 4-5 yrs after the dumbest webheads and netheads in India had discovered Orkut my classmates discovered it too. Slowly, they are beginning to trickle in.
My school community which was almost exclusively juniors now has a growing contingent of the oldies who were my super senrs.
Old cricket matches, annual functions, professors, asshole bureaucrats in college, Prithvish, Rangoli, Rajawadi, Kurla Bhabha, locals, bike ride in the rain to college, casulty...everything came down in a mad rush of memories.
When they were happening to me I was unhappy, angry, sad, disappointed with that life. I deserved better. But humans have a way of rationalizing the past. Of romanticizing it. Of glorifying it. Of certain events being enhanced just that little bit with every narration till every day in that past begins to seem like the perfect day in a Paradise. A Paradise that wasn't.
Some friends I don't identify with now. Some folks I didnt care about much back then and dont care much about now. But in that glorified past, even they get tagged as friends. Friends become almost brother like.
Makes one yearn for that past.
It wasnt all bad.
There is good in the world. There was good in my past.
We were co-passengers on a journey to a common destination...or to a common transit point.
Some of these co-passengers stay with us through to the end of life's journey. Some we part with at transit. Hopefully, they were a pleasure for whatever time you spent together.
You may meet them later, at another transit point in life.
Share a few beers, revive memories and move on.
Transits cannot become destinations...don't treat them as such.
Monday, January 01, 2007
Funny one liner by my med prof-1
Friend: Sir, I have joined a psychiatry residency
Prof: Oh, why did you leave clinical medicine???
BAM! POW!
Prof:1 Psychiatry:0
Prof: Oh, why did you leave clinical medicine???
BAM! POW!
Prof:1 Psychiatry:0
Sunday, December 31, 2006
New Years Eve
Without friends and family around, NY Eve is just another evening at home.
It would be depressing if I was in Mumbai and sitting at home, even in Baltimore or in the Bay area, maybe. But in LA it aint even depressing.
It would be depressing if I was in Mumbai and sitting at home, even in Baltimore or in the Bay area, maybe. But in LA it aint even depressing.
In defense of capitalism
A zinger of a last para in an article from 'The Economist'.
"To find the market system wanting because it does not bring joy as well as growth is to place too heavy a burden on it. Capitalism can make you well off. And it also leaves you free to be as unhappy as you choose. To ask any more of it would be asking too much. "
"To find the market system wanting because it does not bring joy as well as growth is to place too heavy a burden on it. Capitalism can make you well off. And it also leaves you free to be as unhappy as you choose. To ask any more of it would be asking too much. "
Friday, December 29, 2006
Why is a man paid well?
This has been a question that has made many a man go sleepless.
Why does Mr. Jones or Mr. Chen or Mr. Patel next door make more money than I do? Why does that guy, in my jnr. college, whom we all used to think of as the dumbest ass that walked the corridors make more money than I do? I was smarter than him. I should be making more money and having an easier and more comfortable life. But thats not the case!
All he does is spends time counting money...money made without personal effort or any considerable intelligence.
What exactly makes some men more money than others?
Money is a fickle lover. Entices some who had never much thought of it and yet makes its lovers and worshippers pine away for years.
Being more analytical minded (and a consulting type) I had to plot it on a graph...hopefully without the z axis, which would have been more realistic.
So, taking the principle of parsimon(e)y into consideration, let's say money coming to a man (or woman) is directly related to the risk the person is taking and the value he/she is adding.
Sure, in consultant speak, the word value is thrown around more often than anything else.
What does value mean?
In my mind I think I'm clear about the concept and let me put it through to you.
Value is the difference ONE sip of water makes to a parched person compared to the difference it makes to someone who has just had a few pints of the colourless, wet stuff.
Therein lies the essence of value, especially when you can do it for a hell of a lot of people.
What exactly is risk?
Risk is going outdoors in the rainy season without an umbrella in your finest clothes.
Sometimes you have access to a weather report or look at the sky and make a judgment call. Sometimes you don't. What you decide to do depends on your appetite for risk.
But the biggest adjustment here, is adjusting for luck. Lot of individualists don't believe in luck. I do. Why some oil rich sheiks are rich because of oil, something they dont really have a role to play in, can't be explained by risk or value. Why your neighbor won the $75 M lotto while you still live in a trailer home isn't explained by risk or value. It's just good ol darned luck and there ain't a darned sight you can do about that.
OK So let's try to look at the spread of values in the risk/value v/s return graph.
Let's walk through a few random examples of professions that are known to make more (or less) money and their risk value profiles.
1) Doctors- Heck I am one (or was one). Kinda natural that this be the first profile examined.
These guys put in donkey's years getting a degree. Especially, in this day and age you can get into med school wanting to be a cardiologist and come out become a gynecologist or a radiation oncologist or just a pill pushing primary care guy.
You might love the heart but might end up being a nut specialist (that makes you either a psychiatrist or a urologist- take your pick)
So there is a lot of risk, will you get the specialty you like, will you get a lucrative specalty? Will you get a specialty education at all? Or would you be left licking the leftovers at the bottom of the pecking order?
Doctors, make a big chunk of money, in any society because they do take risks...but even more so because they add value.
They actually go about the business of trying to understand the most complicated machine ever, the human body. And then they tinker with it when it is messed up and in ill health and restore your health and vigor.
That's value as value comes.
Ne'er is there been more joy than in robust health.
I believe it is this value, more than the risk, that makes many doctors the kind of returns that we see and hear about.
Even within this group, the ones who work with the riskiest areas, the heart and brain make more money.
Surgeons more than physicians is also based on a very similar risk as well as value proposition.
2) Finance professionals
Now these are the guys that make the big fat pay checks.
In this profession, risk (and risk analysis) is king. More the risk, more the return.
The riskiest of the lot- bond traders, commodity traders, derivatives chaps, leveraged buyout gangs are the guys that make the biggest bucks in this kettle.
They work a good 16 hr day, burn their soul taking risks constantly on trades and either make (or lose) a lot of money. A few others are number crunching machines with a lot of brain horse power. I have seen a few complex risk models and to be truthfully it made me feel woozy in the head looking at it...leave alone trying to make one of my own and make it work!
On the other hand, your friendly neighborhood equity analyst doesn't make as much money while the hedge fund guy does.
This is all risk play and the value is the returns they bring to their investors.
Take the example of the fund managers for the world's largest endowement fund. The Harvard alumni endowement fund. Some $20+ BILLION fund. Most folks, with that kind of money, can make it grow fairly well.
But the Aetna gang seems to make it grow really well and make double digit million packages (or so we heard) as compensation. Lot of people are not very happy. How can managers of a non profit fund make so much money. But the simple fact remains that even after their big fat pay checks, the managers still make better returns for the fund compared to other investors.
Go figure.
3) Businessmen
Whether you sell marriage type ghagra cholis at Manish market or duty free imported smuggled maal at Heera Panna or have a confectioners business or are a high end chip manufacturer, chances are that you make way more money than the avg salaried Joe-Shmoe.
Businessmen take risk-risk of failure of the enterprise, risk of slow downs, risk of increased costs or competition, risk of supply chain issues, risk of labor issues, risk of regulatory and licensing issues, risk of a few hundred thousand different issues that come with handling a P&L.
Businessmen also add value.
They bring products to customers and competition to the market place, which are both lofty achievements in a capitalist set up.
They bring bread to our table, newspaper to our loos, chips with salsa and chips in our computers. They create every single thing we use all through the day, all through our life. From the humblest match box to the mightiest gadgets are made by these risk taking entrepreneurs and old businesses.
4) Government office babu
This 35 hour working, 90 mins lunch break taking, life long one job guy is for me the ultimate symbol of the risk averse man. A fair bit of these guys have no significant expectations from life, save two square meals a day for self and family. Sure, they would love more, and therein lies the reason for the unchecked corruption in the sclerotic babudom but when return for risk and effort is considered, your friendly neighborhood babu wants it as low risk as it comes.
Even better when the Govt provides subsidized housing, an office car with a flashing red light on the top, so their family can use it like a family car, a few more freebies maybe and a foreign junket thrown in, squares it up nicely.
Add to this the fact that the job and its accompanying perks near lifelong.
In short you have a situation of fairly low risk low value high returns. No wonder then that the Civil services are so widely sought after.
5) Joe-Shmoe pen pusher
When this is a 'not so empowered' person...I think it's just life. But when I see an empowered person mired in a 'going nowhere' slow job it rouses the worst of my emotions. Especially when the person is doing the job out of his own free will.
Sure sure I respect the individual freedom that our system bestows upon us to make choices but what I end up not respecting is the choice the person made.
The choice (and its attendant drivers) go against my core values of ambition, individualism, achievement and contribution.
For all the BS people will peddle to you about work life balance and 'there are lot of good people out there'...here's the secret lt out of the bag. There arent enough good people to go around. Good people who would make a significant difference.
They say "With great power comes great responsibility".
If you are smart and have the requisite tools and you decide to cool your heels because you like the slow life...I tend to see it as an abdication of responsibility.
This is the low risk low value low return scenario.
It is a sad story of our society that many people wallow in this category for want of effort or that of ambition.
At the end of the day a lot is unsaid and undiscussed.
A matter for a book maybe.
Why does one person become a Steve Jobs? and another person doesnt?
Why does one bright idea become Google but another idea doesnt?
How are some people able to monetize those ideas and some people cant get a penny for their thoughts?
Why does Mr. Jones or Mr. Chen or Mr. Patel next door make more money than I do? Why does that guy, in my jnr. college, whom we all used to think of as the dumbest ass that walked the corridors make more money than I do? I was smarter than him. I should be making more money and having an easier and more comfortable life. But thats not the case!
All he does is spends time counting money...money made without personal effort or any considerable intelligence.
What exactly makes some men more money than others?
Money is a fickle lover. Entices some who had never much thought of it and yet makes its lovers and worshippers pine away for years.
Being more analytical minded (and a consulting type) I had to plot it on a graph...hopefully without the z axis, which would have been more realistic.
So, taking the principle of parsimon(e)y into consideration, let's say money coming to a man (or woman) is directly related to the risk the person is taking and the value he/she is adding.
Sure, in consultant speak, the word value is thrown around more often than anything else.
What does value mean?
In my mind I think I'm clear about the concept and let me put it through to you.
Value is the difference ONE sip of water makes to a parched person compared to the difference it makes to someone who has just had a few pints of the colourless, wet stuff.
Therein lies the essence of value, especially when you can do it for a hell of a lot of people.
What exactly is risk?
Risk is going outdoors in the rainy season without an umbrella in your finest clothes.
Sometimes you have access to a weather report or look at the sky and make a judgment call. Sometimes you don't. What you decide to do depends on your appetite for risk.
But the biggest adjustment here, is adjusting for luck. Lot of individualists don't believe in luck. I do. Why some oil rich sheiks are rich because of oil, something they dont really have a role to play in, can't be explained by risk or value. Why your neighbor won the $75 M lotto while you still live in a trailer home isn't explained by risk or value. It's just good ol darned luck and there ain't a darned sight you can do about that.
OK So let's try to look at the spread of values in the risk/value v/s return graph.
Let's walk through a few random examples of professions that are known to make more (or less) money and their risk value profiles.
1) Doctors- Heck I am one (or was one). Kinda natural that this be the first profile examined.
These guys put in donkey's years getting a degree. Especially, in this day and age you can get into med school wanting to be a cardiologist and come out become a gynecologist or a radiation oncologist or just a pill pushing primary care guy.
You might love the heart but might end up being a nut specialist (that makes you either a psychiatrist or a urologist- take your pick)
So there is a lot of risk, will you get the specialty you like, will you get a lucrative specalty? Will you get a specialty education at all? Or would you be left licking the leftovers at the bottom of the pecking order?
Doctors, make a big chunk of money, in any society because they do take risks...but even more so because they add value.
They actually go about the business of trying to understand the most complicated machine ever, the human body. And then they tinker with it when it is messed up and in ill health and restore your health and vigor.
That's value as value comes.
Ne'er is there been more joy than in robust health.
I believe it is this value, more than the risk, that makes many doctors the kind of returns that we see and hear about.
Even within this group, the ones who work with the riskiest areas, the heart and brain make more money.
Surgeons more than physicians is also based on a very similar risk as well as value proposition.
2) Finance professionals
Now these are the guys that make the big fat pay checks.
In this profession, risk (and risk analysis) is king. More the risk, more the return.
The riskiest of the lot- bond traders, commodity traders, derivatives chaps, leveraged buyout gangs are the guys that make the biggest bucks in this kettle.
They work a good 16 hr day, burn their soul taking risks constantly on trades and either make (or lose) a lot of money. A few others are number crunching machines with a lot of brain horse power. I have seen a few complex risk models and to be truthfully it made me feel woozy in the head looking at it...leave alone trying to make one of my own and make it work!
On the other hand, your friendly neighborhood equity analyst doesn't make as much money while the hedge fund guy does.
This is all risk play and the value is the returns they bring to their investors.
Take the example of the fund managers for the world's largest endowement fund. The Harvard alumni endowement fund. Some $20+ BILLION fund. Most folks, with that kind of money, can make it grow fairly well.
But the Aetna gang seems to make it grow really well and make double digit million packages (or so we heard) as compensation. Lot of people are not very happy. How can managers of a non profit fund make so much money. But the simple fact remains that even after their big fat pay checks, the managers still make better returns for the fund compared to other investors.
Go figure.
3) Businessmen
Whether you sell marriage type ghagra cholis at Manish market or duty free imported smuggled maal at Heera Panna or have a confectioners business or are a high end chip manufacturer, chances are that you make way more money than the avg salaried Joe-Shmoe.
Businessmen take risk-risk of failure of the enterprise, risk of slow downs, risk of increased costs or competition, risk of supply chain issues, risk of labor issues, risk of regulatory and licensing issues, risk of a few hundred thousand different issues that come with handling a P&L.
Businessmen also add value.
They bring products to customers and competition to the market place, which are both lofty achievements in a capitalist set up.
They bring bread to our table, newspaper to our loos, chips with salsa and chips in our computers. They create every single thing we use all through the day, all through our life. From the humblest match box to the mightiest gadgets are made by these risk taking entrepreneurs and old businesses.
4) Government office babu
This 35 hour working, 90 mins lunch break taking, life long one job guy is for me the ultimate symbol of the risk averse man. A fair bit of these guys have no significant expectations from life, save two square meals a day for self and family. Sure, they would love more, and therein lies the reason for the unchecked corruption in the sclerotic babudom but when return for risk and effort is considered, your friendly neighborhood babu wants it as low risk as it comes.
Even better when the Govt provides subsidized housing, an office car with a flashing red light on the top, so their family can use it like a family car, a few more freebies maybe and a foreign junket thrown in, squares it up nicely.
Add to this the fact that the job and its accompanying perks near lifelong.
In short you have a situation of fairly low risk low value high returns. No wonder then that the Civil services are so widely sought after.
5) Joe-Shmoe pen pusher
When this is a 'not so empowered' person...I think it's just life. But when I see an empowered person mired in a 'going nowhere' slow job it rouses the worst of my emotions. Especially when the person is doing the job out of his own free will.
Sure sure I respect the individual freedom that our system bestows upon us to make choices but what I end up not respecting is the choice the person made.
The choice (and its attendant drivers) go against my core values of ambition, individualism, achievement and contribution.
For all the BS people will peddle to you about work life balance and 'there are lot of good people out there'...here's the secret lt out of the bag. There arent enough good people to go around. Good people who would make a significant difference.
They say "With great power comes great responsibility".
If you are smart and have the requisite tools and you decide to cool your heels because you like the slow life...I tend to see it as an abdication of responsibility.
This is the low risk low value low return scenario.
It is a sad story of our society that many people wallow in this category for want of effort or that of ambition.
At the end of the day a lot is unsaid and undiscussed.
A matter for a book maybe.
Why does one person become a Steve Jobs? and another person doesnt?
Why does one bright idea become Google but another idea doesnt?
How are some people able to monetize those ideas and some people cant get a penny for their thoughts?
Monday, December 25, 2006
The Lexus and the Olive tree
In one line:
One of the best books I have ever read.
Tom Friedman is a genius at using simple examples from life to make a relevant point- even in the complex world of globalization.
I don't always like his habit of "I like to call this phenomenon....". It tags things in too simplistic a manner but he makes up for this by making a ton of very relevant points, which are insightful and instructive in one go.
Lexus and the Olive tree is a simple portrayal of the tug of war that many countries are now facing- culture vs scientific/economic progress. These two need not be, and are not, mutually exclusive but one does come at a significant cost to the other.
Socialism/communism vs capitalism may be likened to two trains.
The former has many people at the control...the direction governed by the intentions of its drivers/motormen. There is no scheduled destination though the hypothetical destination is some Paradise on Earth. There is no specified departure time nor an ETA. "Need to go" will get you a ticket on this train...and the "can pay"s would pay for those who "need to go but can't pay".
The train hardly ever gets to the destination. Hence the passengers are destined to go wherever the motorman pleases to go and hope to God he/they know what they are doing.
In this train there is no luxury or first class car or even a sleeper compartment. The only luxury car is the motorman's cabin.
Everything is "standing only" with no bells and whistle.
And a window seat doesnt count for much since the windows are bolted shut, lest the passenger see outside and figure they are going nowhere...or worse they see the capitalist train.
Capitalism, on the other hand, is a train with no motorman. There is no one in control. But it is a luxury train, mind you. It is run, in large measure by the whims and desires of its passengers. This again, has no specified destination. It's joy is in its journey. And it tries to go through the prettiest, nicest locations possible. But not all locations have tracks on which this train can run well (or in some places run at all).
This train doesn't come within miles of such places.
This train has tons of bay windows, luxury dining cars and parlors...but every joy has a price. There is a second class and even a third class for passengers who can't (or wont) pay the premium price. "Need to go" has to tango with cash (pun intended) to get you a ticket here.
From this train you can see the socialist/communist train, a relic of the past, gasping in the distance.
The appeal of the book also comes from the fact that it is not a rabid proponent of unchecked globalization and evil capitalism.
It talks more of a better, more desirable system- capitalism with a social and global conscience. Of keeping cultures alive. Of allowing uniqueness its right to survive. Of protecting our environment. Of helping neo-capitalists get onto the fast moving capitalist train. Of creating safety nets for those who take the risk and fall. Of empowering those left far behind...so they may be able to board this train as well.
This train will pass through an olive groove and all olive tree huggers, eventually, would have to board this train. How they do it and how they pay for the ticket is the million dollar question.
One of the best books I have ever read.
Tom Friedman is a genius at using simple examples from life to make a relevant point- even in the complex world of globalization.
I don't always like his habit of "I like to call this phenomenon....". It tags things in too simplistic a manner but he makes up for this by making a ton of very relevant points, which are insightful and instructive in one go.
Lexus and the Olive tree is a simple portrayal of the tug of war that many countries are now facing- culture vs scientific/economic progress. These two need not be, and are not, mutually exclusive but one does come at a significant cost to the other.
Socialism/communism vs capitalism may be likened to two trains.
The former has many people at the control...the direction governed by the intentions of its drivers/motormen. There is no scheduled destination though the hypothetical destination is some Paradise on Earth. There is no specified departure time nor an ETA. "Need to go" will get you a ticket on this train...and the "can pay"s would pay for those who "need to go but can't pay".
The train hardly ever gets to the destination. Hence the passengers are destined to go wherever the motorman pleases to go and hope to God he/they know what they are doing.
In this train there is no luxury or first class car or even a sleeper compartment. The only luxury car is the motorman's cabin.
Everything is "standing only" with no bells and whistle.
And a window seat doesnt count for much since the windows are bolted shut, lest the passenger see outside and figure they are going nowhere...or worse they see the capitalist train.
Capitalism, on the other hand, is a train with no motorman. There is no one in control. But it is a luxury train, mind you. It is run, in large measure by the whims and desires of its passengers. This again, has no specified destination. It's joy is in its journey. And it tries to go through the prettiest, nicest locations possible. But not all locations have tracks on which this train can run well (or in some places run at all).
This train doesn't come within miles of such places.
This train has tons of bay windows, luxury dining cars and parlors...but every joy has a price. There is a second class and even a third class for passengers who can't (or wont) pay the premium price. "Need to go" has to tango with cash (pun intended) to get you a ticket here.
From this train you can see the socialist/communist train, a relic of the past, gasping in the distance.
The appeal of the book also comes from the fact that it is not a rabid proponent of unchecked globalization and evil capitalism.
It talks more of a better, more desirable system- capitalism with a social and global conscience. Of keeping cultures alive. Of allowing uniqueness its right to survive. Of protecting our environment. Of helping neo-capitalists get onto the fast moving capitalist train. Of creating safety nets for those who take the risk and fall. Of empowering those left far behind...so they may be able to board this train as well.
This train will pass through an olive groove and all olive tree huggers, eventually, would have to board this train. How they do it and how they pay for the ticket is the million dollar question.
Sunday, December 24, 2006
The quarter that was- prelude
As per a fairly new start I do quarterly analyses of where my long term plan is headed. A long term plan that should, really, be updated, renewed, refreshed every year.
When I was out job hunting I had to dwell on the constant question : What is your long term plan?
I feel I have at least a blurry vision of that long term plan. If it works, I'd be a visionary. If not, I'd be the bright kid o the block that didn't quite deliver.
Before, I digress widely, the time is here in a few days when I do some introspecting on the quarter that was, assess developmental needs, set goals and prioritize for the quarter and year to come.
But I have a feeling this year is going to come off as a winner.
The last quarter has zoomed by in a blur of late nights in the office working and some weekends spent having some cool fun.
I never did this kind of analysis...the more laidback folks would think this is stretching a good thing a tad bit too much. But I have come to see someone's point of view. Life span is finite and the years of strength and vigor more so. These are the years that make us or break us. If we don't optimize their use it's as good (or bad) as a lifetime lost.
Sure, most folks do SOME informal analysis after a few pegs: What the f%$k am I doing with my life? Where is all this leading to?
But this is not half as good as doing it on paper...and possibly with a live person who can act as a sounding board.
When I was out job hunting I had to dwell on the constant question : What is your long term plan?
I feel I have at least a blurry vision of that long term plan. If it works, I'd be a visionary. If not, I'd be the bright kid o the block that didn't quite deliver.
Before, I digress widely, the time is here in a few days when I do some introspecting on the quarter that was, assess developmental needs, set goals and prioritize for the quarter and year to come.
But I have a feeling this year is going to come off as a winner.
The last quarter has zoomed by in a blur of late nights in the office working and some weekends spent having some cool fun.
I never did this kind of analysis...the more laidback folks would think this is stretching a good thing a tad bit too much. But I have come to see someone's point of view. Life span is finite and the years of strength and vigor more so. These are the years that make us or break us. If we don't optimize their use it's as good (or bad) as a lifetime lost.
Sure, most folks do SOME informal analysis after a few pegs: What the f%$k am I doing with my life? Where is all this leading to?
But this is not half as good as doing it on paper...and possibly with a live person who can act as a sounding board.
Sunday, December 17, 2006
Snow boarding
Started the transition from the sad, poor student to the joie de vivre kind...in very material terms-splurge and enjoy.
Yesterday, very atypical of me, I decided to go snow boarding, on the spur of the moment.
I like spur of the moment stuff, just havent done that so much lately. So kinda felt doing doing it, but it HURTS.
This was my first experience snow boarding...the first time I was in fairly heavy snowfall in Calif (i.e. I havnt been to Tahoe) and it was hella fun. Took quite a few falls, though I think I got a fair hang of starting up and of moving fast but braking was the problem.
Result- a bruised knee, torn tracks, and painfully stretched muscles...but all in all it was fun.
The drive to Mountain High was hella long, the 10 being really crowded on a weekend close to the holiday season. But it was like being back in college, a drive with desi music, stopping for hot chocolate, snow near LA (how sweet is that?).. I think I'm going to snowboard more...especially if and when I ever move to San Fran and go to Tahoe.
Also got to do a quick detour via Claremont, saw the old place that I have mixed feelings for. Met Senman and his family and his new house. He definitely looks happy there.
Got my carton and quite a bit of stuff from there.
So I'm stocked and ready for a long stay here. Sadly my TT racket wasnt in the carton :(
Wonder where I left the Excalibur.
Saturday, August 19, 2006
Suspension of disbelief
Suspension of disbelief, more recently known as 'Manna of Mahim' is not a new phenomenon.
Some 10 yrs ago when I was in high school or possibly junior college someone figured out that Lord (this is to refer to a God not to a member of the Brit aristocracy) Ganesha idols were drinking milk. Go figure. Mind you. This wasn't limited to illiterate, simple minded folk. You are talking doctors, engineers, lawyers, architects here. You get the picture!
So picture this: Friday night. Three friends sitting in a flat, sipping beer and munching on some finger food, waiting for the delivery boy from a decent local restaurant to deliver food. An order placed at 11 pm comes in nearly at 12:45 am!
When asked about the reason for the delay the boy said, rather animatedly, that the sea water had turned sweet. That's great. I mean...so many ideas spring to mind. You could bottle and sell the miracle water, you have a sea of inventory of sweet water (literally) when the world wide stock of fresh water dies out...figure out the $$ you could make there. The potential for 'miracle tourism'. The opportunities are endless. But I'm missing the point of the excuse here.
But we digress.
Some fisherman realized he had a lousy catch for the day and decided to taste the water. Hmmm not that salty. Heck, it tastes SWEET. Thats it. Th e sea water is sweet. His kid sister backs up his assertion. Cool enough.
'Not educated but smart person' thinks "Hmmm something weird here. Sea water tasting sweet is not regular. I should contact the police or some municipal corp person...they will call in some big guy science man who will figure out WHY it is sweet...or less salty".
Your friendly neighborhood uneducated Indian, Muslim or Hindu or whatever think "Oh my God. God has done this. This is his blessing. He has made the water sweet...a miracle...to wash my sins."
Sweetheart, first thing...that's a LOT of sin to wash. Also, if you have seen the water at the beach at Mahim, Mumbai lately...it's going to take God starting from scratch so it looks like what sea water is supposed to look like. Turning sea water sweet is not on the list of his priorities. He might start with cleaning the trash that you throw in it every single day.so people like me dont think they are going to get gastro just looking at the water. He already got you the miracle, the sea, and you fucked it up biatch.
For those not in the know and thinking, what's this man blabbing about here:
Mahim is a part of Central/West Central Mumbai...pretty unnervingly close to the armpit of Mumbai-Dharavi. At Mahim causeway a river, the Mithi (literally meaning 'sweet', talk about irony), full of industrial effluents and toxic waste flows into the sea. At many different points in Mahim, sewage, whether treated or raw, flows into the sea. To add to this, inhabitants of illegal dwellings and shanties in and around the beach crap their asses out on the beach every single day. Excrement, which is carried to sea by the high tide.
Let go off the breath if you have held it too long, for the revelation of the butler being the culprit is at hand.
It is this water, that people had thought had turned sweet.
From 7:30 pm onwards on Friday, 5000 people from the Mahim dargah 'mostly from a minority community' held up traffic as they jumped into the sea for a taste of 'shifa' (not too hard to figure out what that is).
Scientists reached the spot and tried to take samples...they couldnt make it to the sea front due to the number of devotees. Something about Science being held back by religion and God's creatures. I accept that our current knowledge of science doesnt explain everything...and for this reason we can only think that there is something greater...but this suspension of disbelief is pushing 'something greater' to ridiculous limits.
Think of incidents...terminally ill old people or mentally challenged or physically challenged young kids being given this fucked up water...as miracle cure...talk about adding insult to injury.
The Lord Mayor of the city jumped joyously into the sea...and came out saying that it was nothing short of a miracle. Errr isnt there some law that prohibits the First (or second or third ) citizen of a city like Mumbai from acting like an idiot and setting a BAD example for other citizens to follow?
Evidently not, for in India NOT being able to suspend disbelief in the name of God is the bigger crime.
A scientific mind, tempered by some ethical and even 'larger than thou' considerations makes for an ideal recipe. A hard core scientific mind comes next. An idiot mind with no thoughts of science...only looking for divine intervention...is the most evil and dangerous of all.
In this our education system has failed us.
No God is coming to wash your sins darling...you better learn to wash it yourself.
Some 10 yrs ago when I was in high school or possibly junior college someone figured out that Lord (this is to refer to a God not to a member of the Brit aristocracy) Ganesha idols were drinking milk. Go figure. Mind you. This wasn't limited to illiterate, simple minded folk. You are talking doctors, engineers, lawyers, architects here. You get the picture!
So picture this: Friday night. Three friends sitting in a flat, sipping beer and munching on some finger food, waiting for the delivery boy from a decent local restaurant to deliver food. An order placed at 11 pm comes in nearly at 12:45 am!
When asked about the reason for the delay the boy said, rather animatedly, that the sea water had turned sweet. That's great. I mean...so many ideas spring to mind. You could bottle and sell the miracle water, you have a sea of inventory of sweet water (literally) when the world wide stock of fresh water dies out...figure out the $$ you could make there. The potential for 'miracle tourism'. The opportunities are endless. But I'm missing the point of the excuse here.
But we digress.
Some fisherman realized he had a lousy catch for the day and decided to taste the water. Hmmm not that salty. Heck, it tastes SWEET. Thats it. Th e sea water is sweet. His kid sister backs up his assertion. Cool enough.
'Not educated but smart person' thinks "Hmmm something weird here. Sea water tasting sweet is not regular. I should contact the police or some municipal corp person...they will call in some big guy science man who will figure out WHY it is sweet...or less salty".
Your friendly neighborhood uneducated Indian, Muslim or Hindu or whatever think "Oh my God. God has done this. This is his blessing. He has made the water sweet...a miracle...to wash my sins."
Sweetheart, first thing...that's a LOT of sin to wash. Also, if you have seen the water at the beach at Mahim, Mumbai lately...it's going to take God starting from scratch so it looks like what sea water is supposed to look like. Turning sea water sweet is not on the list of his priorities. He might start with cleaning the trash that you throw in it every single day.so people like me dont think they are going to get gastro just looking at the water. He already got you the miracle, the sea, and you fucked it up biatch.
For those not in the know and thinking, what's this man blabbing about here:
Mahim is a part of Central/West Central Mumbai...pretty unnervingly close to the armpit of Mumbai-Dharavi. At Mahim causeway a river, the Mithi (literally meaning 'sweet', talk about irony), full of industrial effluents and toxic waste flows into the sea. At many different points in Mahim, sewage, whether treated or raw, flows into the sea. To add to this, inhabitants of illegal dwellings and shanties in and around the beach crap their asses out on the beach every single day. Excrement, which is carried to sea by the high tide.
Let go off the breath if you have held it too long, for the revelation of the butler being the culprit is at hand.
It is this water, that people had thought had turned sweet.
From 7:30 pm onwards on Friday, 5000 people from the Mahim dargah 'mostly from a minority community' held up traffic as they jumped into the sea for a taste of 'shifa' (not too hard to figure out what that is).
Scientists reached the spot and tried to take samples...they couldnt make it to the sea front due to the number of devotees. Something about Science being held back by religion and God's creatures. I accept that our current knowledge of science doesnt explain everything...and for this reason we can only think that there is something greater...but this suspension of disbelief is pushing 'something greater' to ridiculous limits.
Think of incidents...terminally ill old people or mentally challenged or physically challenged young kids being given this fucked up water...as miracle cure...talk about adding insult to injury.
The Lord Mayor of the city jumped joyously into the sea...and came out saying that it was nothing short of a miracle. Errr isnt there some law that prohibits the First (or second or third ) citizen of a city like Mumbai from acting like an idiot and setting a BAD example for other citizens to follow?
Evidently not, for in India NOT being able to suspend disbelief in the name of God is the bigger crime.
A scientific mind, tempered by some ethical and even 'larger than thou' considerations makes for an ideal recipe. A hard core scientific mind comes next. An idiot mind with no thoughts of science...only looking for divine intervention...is the most evil and dangerous of all.
In this our education system has failed us.
No God is coming to wash your sins darling...you better learn to wash it yourself.
Friday, August 04, 2006
A Lazy Week in the Laidback city
For the amount I gush about Mumbai and heckle Pune there is an undeniable truth. Pune weather beats Mumbai's hands down..and its not a small difference for a person like me. I am extremely sensitive to the combination of heat and humidity. People sweat, I leak like a faucet.
Overall good fun though stayed indoors, at home, for way too long.
Beered frequently, watched a movie, finished a chapter and half and overall was pretty relaxed. Too relaxed. Rained way to hard in Pune in the initial part.
Overall good fun though stayed indoors, at home, for way too long.
Beered frequently, watched a movie, finished a chapter and half and overall was pretty relaxed. Too relaxed. Rained way to hard in Pune in the initial part.
Thursday, June 22, 2006
Aftermath of a few parties
So this was when I was in India in Dec 04...had a few parties at home. And in a week I had more empty 750 ml beer bottles than I needed at the time. So I asked my good friend across from my flat to deal with them and while he was sitting, decently high, I lined them up in his living room.
And took a pic for old times sake.
I can still see Ro's expression when he heard this was a net collection of a few days bottles. LOL
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
Random update XLVI
Can a recent writer really suffer from 'writer's block'?
This important chapter seems to be dragging on. It feels like I'm typing all day but when I look at the amount of material I have come up with it...it aint much. Sigh...
An entire 250-300 pg novel. Man...its going to be like a marathon. Just hope I complete it.
LEave you with a few jokes from Snatch
1) Turkish: Fuck me, hold tight. What's that?
Tommy: It's me belt, Turkish.
Turkish: No, Tommy. There's a gun in your trousers. What's a gun doing in your trousers?
Tommy: It's for protection.
Turkish: Protection from what? "Zee Germans"? What's to stop it from blowing your bollocks off every time you sit down?
2) Customs official: Anything to declare?
Avi: Yeah. Don't go to England.
This important chapter seems to be dragging on. It feels like I'm typing all day but when I look at the amount of material I have come up with it...it aint much. Sigh...
An entire 250-300 pg novel. Man...its going to be like a marathon. Just hope I complete it.
LEave you with a few jokes from Snatch
1) Turkish: Fuck me, hold tight. What's that?
Tommy: It's me belt, Turkish.
Turkish: No, Tommy. There's a gun in your trousers. What's a gun doing in your trousers?
Tommy: It's for protection.
Turkish: Protection from what? "Zee Germans"? What's to stop it from blowing your bollocks off every time you sit down?
2) Customs official: Anything to declare?
Avi: Yeah. Don't go to England.
Thursday, June 01, 2006
The power of work out
Most friends in India assume I must still be working out. They don't remember the last time I wasn't a workout fanatic. Most folks I know in Calif haven't seen a time when I didn't look like the Hindenburg, about to tragically crash.
Blame it on access issues.
This sounds like a line classically out a "Health sector reform in Niger" text at J Hop Health Systems.
"Transportation forms an additional barrier to access to healthcare facilities. Due to the centripetal distribution of health centers and resources, those bereft of transportation at the periphery also remain bereft of healthcare provisions. Hence, such a situation might require one of two possible solutions:....."
That, in a nutcase (or is it nutshell) was me. An inaccessible gym further aggravated by a severe paucity of time crippled by an almost Germanisque imbibation of beer led to me looking like a 70 yr old Raj or Shammi Kapoor.
But now that I am in the good Bay with weights and a trendy tread mill at home....I'm back in action. Watching my diet like a hawk...turned down a mouth watering slice of pizza in favor of penang tuna (is that sacrifice or what). Hardly put in more than 1200 calories per day and burn way more with long weights and/or aerobic work out. Feeling the fat melt away, and seeing the cut sleeve, bike riding, bandana-ed Yatz emerge out of a shroud of fat.
Watch out ye all...one of these days I might actually get snapped and put up a recent pic.
Yay yipee yay!
Blame it on access issues.
This sounds like a line classically out a "Health sector reform in Niger" text at J Hop Health Systems.
"Transportation forms an additional barrier to access to healthcare facilities. Due to the centripetal distribution of health centers and resources, those bereft of transportation at the periphery also remain bereft of healthcare provisions. Hence, such a situation might require one of two possible solutions:....."
That, in a nutcase (or is it nutshell) was me. An inaccessible gym further aggravated by a severe paucity of time crippled by an almost Germanisque imbibation of beer led to me looking like a 70 yr old Raj or Shammi Kapoor.
But now that I am in the good Bay with weights and a trendy tread mill at home....I'm back in action. Watching my diet like a hawk...turned down a mouth watering slice of pizza in favor of penang tuna (is that sacrifice or what). Hardly put in more than 1200 calories per day and burn way more with long weights and/or aerobic work out. Feeling the fat melt away, and seeing the cut sleeve, bike riding, bandana-ed Yatz emerge out of a shroud of fat.
Watch out ye all...one of these days I might actually get snapped and put up a recent pic.
Yay yipee yay!
Sunday, May 28, 2006
A beautiful day in SF
To get down to the day. Got out of the house by 9 am and were in the city, with its tricky one-ways by around 9:45 am. Surprisingly, we seemed to be the first gang at the designated spot though others had arrived before us.
The first tour lasted from 10 am to 11:30 am and was about the Gold Rush in 1848-49. The Gold Rush, for all practical reasons, built San Francisco and gave it the personality it has today. A city of opportunities for the risk takers and opportunity seekers.
Dave was a pretty interesting speaker, though he had an intriguing habit of spacing out in the middle of his monologue. I guess I'd need to take pics of Dave from the AK man.
We walked around looking at some of the spots where commerce had set up, including the offices of the Pony Express, the first mint, the center of the city from whence it has sprung, etc.
I'd elaborate on individual components some other day (heck, maybe even tomorrow)
After we were let off at 11:30 it was a short walk to Chinatown and some decent dimsum place. It was more 'homely' and not quite as good as Ton King at Geary, where we ended up in the Spring break for a nice hearty, sumptuous dimsum lunch.
After lunch, we drove over to the City Hall to our second walking tour...the earthquake of 1906. This is the centennial year...so it is kinda special for the city. The lady was in a typical Victorian dress and a hand made bonnet. Walked around the City Hall and some of the streets and alleys in the vicinity. She showed us where the "ham and eggs" fire had begun and approached the area between Market st and Van Ness. Also went through the Public library to see some remarkable old photographs.
One of the highlights of the day was seeing this beautiful vintage car and one of the most expensive ones at that- a 1937 Rolls Royce Phantom III. The chauffeur told me it was the first '100 miles an hr' car. Ain't it a beauty?
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