my equation

See ya, 2006

2006-12-31T23:59:00.000+01:00

2006 was a crazy, but unforgettable year... 'nough said. For me, it marks the end of a phase. Having spent much of my time in Europe over the past 6 years, it feels a bit strange having no plans to go back any time soon. But now, for a change, I have a chance to learn about—and explore—my own country. In addition to having had a front-row seat to the historically significant expansion of the European Union, I was fortunate to have learned much about international business while with my last 2 companies through several project engagements in England, Netherlands, Austria, Hungary, and of course Germany. More importantly, my travels throughout the hidden corners of Europe have opened my eyes to diverse cultures and acquainted me with many good friends, by whom my life experiences and expectations have been greatly enhanced! Many thanks to you all!

I'm excited that 2007 is finally here, as it feels like the official start of something big. I'll take a break from this blog in order to focus on my new adventures. In the meantime, you can visit the archive by accessing the links on the right, and decide if my posts can stand the test of time.

Have a great 2007, and all the best as you enter your respective phases!

Like Day and Night

2006-12-23T20:20:00.000+01:00

This morning.

This evening.

Grumpy Old Ship

2006-12-05T11:31:00.000+01:00

The USS Intrepid Aircraft Carrier, which parked itself some years back on the West Side to become the Intrepid Museum, was finally yanked out of it's slip today to be taken down the Hudson River for an overhall. They tried to move it a month back, but the grumpy old ship wouldn't budge. After a month of dredging the mud from underneath, here she comes...

I couldn't stay to watch it come down the river, but these guys got a bird's-eye view (I'll catch up with them later)...

That Guy

2006-12-03T16:11:00.000+01:00

Every town has one... this is “that guy” from Hoboken. He's out on Pier A every weekend with his paraglider, catching the fresh winds off the Atlantic Ocean as they rush up the Hudson River. A good wind can throw him pretty high into the air.

Vroom Vroom!

2006-11-29T09:15:00.000+01:00

There's a new way to get around town. These babies were parked in front of the Flatiron Building this morning.

Business or Bust

2006-11-15T23:31:00.000+01:00

While the senior guards were inspecting (or rather, picking on) the new guard, the young boy noticed that nobody was guarding the Queen Mum's residence, so he stepped in and assumed the post. I took this photo in London in 2000, and it's one of my favorite photos. It shows someone that recognized a need and jumped in to fill the gap. It's also kind a cute.

A few weeks back, a self-proclaimed expert on achieving financial freedom did a guest spot on Fox NY's morning news. Her advice was simple. According to her, anyone can start a business with a budget of $1000, all of which should go toward Google ads. Silly me, I've been wasting all of my life with developing "the idea" and organically translating that into business & marketing plans.

Coincidentally, a few months back, someone from the User Experience group at Google asked me to critique the administrative site for their advertising program. In addition to a complete heuristic evaluation, I also offered an impromptu dissertation on the legitimacy of the businesses behind the links, and how I felt that, while it makes tons of money for Google now, it severely contradicts the realm of ethics and morals that Google so strongly advocated in their earlier years. CNBC's recent special, "Big Brother, Big Business" seems to confirm that Google will emerge as the definitive global leader in, well, everything (so I don't think they took my little comments to heart). Since Google knows more about me than I do, I'll only say good things about them. And since they've aquired Blogger, I guess that also makes them my publisher. They've even been able to influence medicine.

Back to my point... Starting a business should be about finding a need and creating a solution, as the little boy from London did. In NYC, they have their own special categories of business, but it's not always clear what need they fill. Take this one on 23rd Street in the Flatiron district...

This hole in the wall is literally about 3 square feet, from which a little old lady sells brass junk. There are a ton of businesses in NYC that operate out of a closet like this on the sidewalk. I can't imagine what the rent on this is per month, but I'm guessing it would take a hefty chunk of the suggested budget of Fox's smart business expert. I don't even see any room to use a computer in order to buy ad space through Google. And if she could, I can't imagine what the ad would actually say.

Moon over Manhattan

2006-11-04T21:37:00.000+01:00

Where's Your Threshold?

2006-10-26T13:15:00.000+02:00

My life seems to be all about thresholds. A big part of my work (and probably the most interesting part of it for me) is modeling business logic... when x meets some configurable threshold (let's say y), then trigger z. Even outside of work, thresholds don't escape me... when a big puppy-dog (let's call him “Miha”) whines and stomps his paws enough to get me to take him to the park...

And the word itself is kind of fun to say... Threshold! It creates a rare sequence of linguistic acrobatics that aurally flows through the monophthongs encapsulated by their bounding digraphs... when pronounced properly, of course (in case you couldn’t guess, linguistics is one of my passions).

So whenever I hear about thresholds, I have my own special appreciation. There were some interesting news stories recently about reaching thresholds (just to be clear, I'm not talking about door thresholds, I'm talking about one of the other meanings*).

The resident population of the US recently exceeded 300,000,000 (check the current population).

The English language is expected to adopt its one-millionth word in November, as reported by the The Times. †

And then there's this...

The factory workers at this plant in Braunschweig, Germany, were not provided with coffee. Instead, they were allowed to each bring in their own coffee maker. As a result, the electrical system had to be upgraded in order to accommodate this (see photo below). Common sense might try to convince us that a shared approach might provide a better solution for everyone. I was wondering if there was any threshold in sight that might influence them to change their minds. Probably not. Not only does the company save money by not purchasing & maintaining equipment, purchasing coffee-making supplies, and hiring staff to run and maintain it all; they are actually able to make money off of their own employees by selling them their coffee makers (made by their home appliances division) and sell more electricity (produced by their power generation division) to their unions.

And you thought American labor issues were tricky.


*	threshold — (4) the point that must be exceeded to begin producing a given effect or result or to elicit a response (The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth Edition. Retrieved October 26, 2006, from Dictionary.com).
†	“As of 1:16 pm (Pacific) on the 21st day of March (the vernal equinox) in the year 2006 AD (or CE, whatever your preference), there were approximately 988,968 words in the English Language, plus or minus a handful. Choose well among them.” – Language Monitor.

I’m In!

2006-10-06T14:59:00.000+02:00

I got accepted to New York University's MBA program, which is ranked as the #1 part-time MBA program in the country. This will be my second master's degree... loved the first one, and I can't wait to start this one! Donations would be greatly appreciated :)

5 Years Later

2006-09-11T22:15:00.000+02:00

I took this photo a few months before 9/11

Everyone here remembers exactly what happened 5 years ago, but it seems like people are starting to move on. There were the formal ceremonies today at the WTC site, as well as a few local memorials; but unlike past years, the other parks were empty. I was in Madison Square Park for about an hour this afternoon, but it was just another day... dogs running (the small dogs picking on the big dogs, as usual), cell-phone yackers sipping Starbucks (OK, I did have a Starbucks grande mocha, but I wasn't on the cell at the time), the Rasta guy making sure I was stocked up... just another day.

Hoboken reflects

Hoboken's heros remembered

The reinstated focal point of the NYC skyline

Hoboken Italian Festival's fireworks Saturday night with the
WTC spotlight toward the heavens in the background

Tweening Upstate

2006-09-04T23:15:00.000+02:00

I spent part of the weekend at my cousin's house in what I would call upstate New York... to me, anything north of The Bronx is upstate. I'm told that Scarsdale isn't actually considered upstate, but somewhere in-between NYC and the real upstate. Regardless of this categorical confusion, Hurricane Ernesto certainly had no trouble finding us.

After Saturday's lively weather, the dog and I set out early Sunday morning to explore the aftermath. This heavily wooded neighborhood was settled in colonial times and is filled with amazing homes nestled within the enormous trees and steep hills. As you can see, some of the trees didn't make it (notice the fallen tree in the lower left of the first photo). The walk was a bit of an obstacle course because we had to navigate in-between downed power lines everywhere. The house below somehow got an umbrella lodged in the roof (click on the image for a close-up).

Speaking of being in-between, I'm also tweening my career. I thought the unofficial end to Summer would serve as a great time to retreat from the Germans and seek new and exciting alliances.

Difference of Opinion

2006-08-05T14:17:00.000+02:00

The trees here in Hoboken can’t seem to agree...
Is it Fall or Summer?

Hrvatska to Hoboken

2006-07-13T23:30:00.000+02:00

Our evening walk started as usual, but as we were on our sit-and-stare-at-lower-Manhattan-as-the-sun-sets break on Pier A half-way through our walk, something happened that has never happened in our 9.5 years of going “walk-walk” (that’s Miha’s command to go get his leash): we had comprehension! As a poodle puppy ran up to Miha to play, the owner asked what my dog’s name was. I reluctantly responded, “Miha” and proceeded to prepare myself for one of the typical responses:

If they speak Spanish, then the response is always: “You mean ‘Mi ijo,’ right!?!” The Spanish phrase for “my daughter” is “mi ija” (when you say it quickly, it sounds the same as “Miha,” which means Mikey in most Slavic and Germanic languages) and “mi ijo” is Spanish for “my son.” I’m always getting lectured that I’m stupid and shouldn’t use a Spanish name unless I understand how to use it properly. Years ago, I gave up trying to explain that there are actually other languages in this great big world of ours... If they don’t speak Spanish, the response is usually something like: “What?” or “Meeko?” or “Neeko?” or “Meathook?” or “Peanut?” (actual responses!)...

In any case, today was different. For the first time in more than 9 years, the response was actually, “I have a friend from Slovenia with that name.” I was flabbergasted! A 30-minute conversation ensued. Not only has she heard of the tiny country (and DIDN’T confuse it with Slovakia!), she’d actually even been there. Even more impressive, she properly pronounced Slovenia’s capital city (Ljubljana). It turns out she has some Croatian roots (Slovenia’s neighbor to the South) and toured that part of Europe as a professional violinist. I was surprised that she wasn’t aware of the association between our town and Croatia (“Hrvatska” in Croatian), so I filled her in...

The Croatian island of Susak has a strange connection with Hoboken, NJ (it’s not documented very well, so please let me know if you know more). From what I understand, about 90% of Susak’s 1600 residents left the island around the time of the 2nd World War. Most of them headed for Hoboken, NJ, and it’s rumored that they became very successful. The island was left with less than 200 residents. In later years, a small number of them returned to the island (which explains the odd Joisy-Croatian accent), but the population is still very low.

Coincidentally, I was sailing the Croatian Adriatic exactly one year ago and visited Susak (which is why I just happen to have photos of Susak). The island is essentially a big sand dune and is quite primitive. No cars, only stone and dirt walking roads. There are a couple of tiny eateries, a general store (about the size of my living room), a post office (that also offers every other municipal service that’s required by Croatian law), and of course, a church. A ferry comes about twice a day to transport people and goods. Prior to its arrival, the island’s inhabitants push wheelbarrows down to the end of the stone pier to meet the ferry. They load up random supplies and luggage (and even the elderly) onto the wheelbarrows or tracker-pulled trailers, and they’re off. There’s also a special boat that regularly delivers fresh water to the island, which is pumped through a hose (as you can see in the photo below) that zig-zags around the village’s streets to some secret location. In fact, I could swear I heard someone say, "His family comes from the other side of the hose."

Susak isn’t exactly a tourist island (the nearby island of Mali Lošinj and coastal town of Pula are very tourist friendly, and I highly recommend them over the typical European destinations! Check out the Croatian National Tourist Board), especially the aerial photos of Susak). In Susak, however, the ability to speak some Croatian is very helpful.

There’s just a small harbor to moor a few sailboats and yachts. We climbed to the top of the island (above photo) and got special access to the island’s lighthouse (our captains knew the keepers). This photo is from the lighthouse:

We had the two tall sailboats—Katrinka (left), Barbara (right):

Barbara navigating the storm:

One of our captains, Tine:

That's me, getting ready to “help” with the sails.

Each day when you walk the waterfront promenade in Hoboken, you can definitely hear a minimum of German and Italian being spoken. If you listen really closely (they don’t speak as loudly as the Germans or Italians), you can occasionally still hear Croatian.

» Žive naj vsi narodi, ki hrepene dočakat dan... «

What Exit?

2006-06-30T19:35:00.000+02:00

Whenever you tell a fellow resident that you’re from New Jersey, the reaction is always “Yeah? What exit?” (pronounced: “wu-DE-zi?”... proper English, of course, would be “Which exit?”). Some residents are so proud that they even have bumper stickers of their exit sign. The out-of-staters are intrigued by this whole phenomenon!

New Jersey, often seen as the space between New York City and Philadelphia, offers two major North-South expressways: the New Jersey Turnpike (which connects NYC and Philly) and the Garden State Parkway (which gets you to the Jersey Shore and Atlantic City).

The problem I have is that people tend to get categorized by their exit. A few weeks ago, I served as a juror in the state supreme court. The plaintiff, defendant, and the jurors were all from my exit, but it was the most diverse slice of society I’ve ever seen. How could we all be grouped together into the same category? The only thing that connected us was that we were all somewhat legal residents of the “14”s (of course, the illegal residents weren’t represented because the government “doesn’t know” about them and therefore can’t summon them to jury duty).

And on the other extreme, I followed this car from the exit all the way to my building, and then it continued on. I’m not sure who this was, but it must have been someone important (not only was the license plate number 1 for the state, but it was also adorned with gold emblems... a bit of governmental bling-bling, I guess). I know the New Jersey governor lives in my town, but I don’t know if this was his car. In any case, the driver was actually dialing and talking on a not-so-hands-free cell phone, and all while making a left turn (that takes some talent!). That’s very illegal in our state, and someone whose license plate says “Assembly” should know that!

It’s very common in this area to turn your back and not notice things. Not to worry, the Italians keep everything under control. In any case, it doesn’t surprise me that Lady Liberty also turns her back to our exit.

Mmm Mmm, Good!

2006-06-27T23:11:00.000+02:00

My cousin and I have been on a culinary exploration lately, re-discovering some of our grandmother’s traditional Slovenian/Austrian recipies. Enjoy...

Češpljeve (Zwetschgenknödeln) are plum dumplings wrapped in a gnocchi-like dough. The pits are replaced with sugar cubes. They’re boiled, then fried in buttery breadcrumbs. They’re great as a dinner or a dessert – an extra serving meets both requirements. As I was making the dough, I was thinking of my cousin... and then I heard her voice. I thought the dough spoke to me in one of those pivital life-changing moments, but when I looked up I saw “Pat from New York” written along the bottom of the TV as Jim Cramer was taking her call on Mad Money.

Potica is probably the most popular dessert in Slovenia. A special walnut filling is rolled into the dough. This one is courtesy of my cousin, and greatly appreciated by my stomach.

Krofe (Faschingkrapfen) look a little like donuts, but they are light and airy (practically hollow) on the inside. The frying creates a trademark light colored band around them. They’re often filled with a fruit filling. The Pillsbury Dough Boy is guarding over these bad boys.

Local View

2006-06-12T20:15:00.000+02:00

Fisherman's Sink

Pointy Buildings

Life’s Complete

2006-05-29T22:10:00.000+02:00

As I was walking down the street on Friday evening, I was feeling that my life wasn’t complete. Then, as I looked up, I saw the answer: a furniture store. I realized that I never actually owned any bedroom furniture (other than a bed); instead I’ve been building out my closets with drawers and shelves. One problem: I did not want to pay many thousands for typical Pottery Barn pieces, and did not want the fake wood stuff that comes from Ikea. At that moment, my Memorial Day weekend project was born.

Early Saturday morning, I got in my car and headed for the Lincoln Tunnel...

...crossed Midtown-Manhattan, and then on to the Queens Midtown Tunnel...

...and finally, down the Long Island Expressway...

I eventually arrived at a furniture manufacturing warehouse in Queens. I found a couple of beautiful solid-pine pieces for just a couple hundred dollars each. I could only fit one in my little car, so I went back through the LIE and 2 tunnels, dropped it off, and repeated the trip for the other one. I think they were just made in the past week, because they smelled like freshly sawed wood. I spent the whole weekend sanding, realigning the drawers (they were pretty rough), staining several layers of colors to bring out the wood grains, and finally varnishing them. I’m happy, and think my life is now complete.

For about $500 (including tolls) and a weekend’s worth of work, I am now the proud owner of bedroom furniture. I could have gotten practically the same two pieces (but not as nicely finished!) at Pottery Barn for $1600. I saved more than $1000. The following two images are from potterybarn.com (they're currently each $799):

Sunset at 1500

2006-05-24T22:37:00.000+02:00

For me, business travel usually involves door-to-door travel times of 12-18 hours, more than 3 countries, more than 4 languages, and interacting with lots of people with “unique” attributes.

Today was a nice change: I was rushed off to the airport in a big Jersey-style SUV limo (complete with black windows), hopped onto a small commuter jet, and arrived in Raleigh-Durham in less time than it typically takes to board a Boeing 777. And a few hours later, I was rushed back home. It was also nice just to take a rucksack instead of 4 weeks of stuff. I didn’t have to deal with different languages, just a different dialect. I love the North Carolina accent and way of life... the southern hospitality makes you feel good, and invigorates you with positive energy (don’t get much of that in NYC). I even started saying "yes ma'am" again.

The Old Country

2006-05-09T22:52:00.000+02:00

On very short notice, I had to flee the old country (Hungary) and immigrate to Vienna due to changes in my project. Although I love Austria, I was very upset because I was really looking forward to spending the summer in Budapest! While the winter is a bit dreary, everything comes to life in the summer. I finally completed setting up my apartment (even the utilities!) and got my official visa and working papers from the Hungarian Consulate (that was a pain!)... but I’ll never be able to enjoy my private roof-top terrace again!

I had the top floor in the above photo, the apartment below mine was a manager’s, and a few floors down were an architect and a developer... I found out later that they said it was a physical representation of the org chart... funny!

I even got fluent in Hungarian... well, not completely, but I learned a lot of vocabulary and phrases and got a very convincing accent (props to my linguistics crew!). I have lots of memories about learning this very unique Finno-Ugric language (I already shared one in my first post). Another is from my first day in my new apartment. I couldn’t figure out how to lock my apartment door. After trying for 20 minutes, I finally went to the doorman to say “nem zár” (meaning “no lock”), accompanied by a physical interpretation of my words: turning the key with a positive nod, closing the door and pulling out my key with a negative nod. He looked at me very strangely. What was his problem? He had to have understood my Hungarian, but probably just never saw someone speak so fluently with body movements. Eventually, he finally said, “ah, nem zár... igen, igen...” He finally understood, and proceeded to answer with his own interpretive dance of turning the key and door handle at the same time. Mission accomplished, I understood the trick. Well, a few weeks later, I figured out that I was actually saying “nem szar” (that means “no shit”)... I guess the look on his face was justified after all. And that’s the story of how I learned about the importance of accents and dipthongs.

Since none of my American friends were able to visit me at this apartment, I’ll let you enjoy what could have been:

I’m really going to miss my terrace! In any case, this was in the hippest neighborhood: Budapest's version of New York's Greenwich Village or Chicago's Old Town neighborhoods.

And I really liked my Ikea kitchen! OK, it was no match for my super-extravagant Hudson County, New Jersey-style kitchen, but it had great character (and was proven in my Determined post).

The courtyard kind of looked like the block, from which a ship could have been carved:

Coincidentally, the night before receiving the shocking announcement that we had to move to Austria, we had a HUGE PARTY! (yes, all caps = screaming!) The building manager said it must have been a great party, because he got numerous complaints via voicemail, email, and SMS! He made us promise to invite him next time. All together, we had 5 apartments in the building. Party central was, naturally, right below me. Here’s the view down to the 4th floor on that infamous night:

I celebrated (or rather, mourned) my last night in Budapest with my two personal vampires... er, I meant my buddies from Transylvania (Gyula on the left, Lajos on the right).

... and this is where they were debating whether or not there was sunlight on the other side of the door:

Sorry, just kidding!!! Please don’t bite my neck!!!

I have to share a photo of me and Babsi. She was the brains behind the infamous “Babsi’s Database” (which we believe could invoke Armageddon with a single query), and was also my kick-boxing partner in the EU. It wasn’t often that we hugged like this, we were usually throwing kicks at each other!

Egészségére Magyarország!

Wake Up Call

2006-04-26T22:05:00.000+02:00

The bright spotlight of the sun rising behind the NYC skyline is my wake up call every morning, but it was special this morning. From my perspective, the sun rose precisely in-between the Chrysler Building and the Empire State Building. It's as if the center of the world was acknowledged by the gods.

Danube Runneth Over

2006-04-08T14:35:00.000+02:00

The official word, as of yesterday, is that the Danube is 8.58 meters (27 feet) above its normal level, its highest level in 120 years... nature scares me! Yesterday, I recreated photographs that I took in January. The river was frozen back then, but it was at more normal levels. In the pictures on the left, you can see the road that runs along the river (click on the pictures to zoom in). They are completely submerged now.


28. january 2006	7. april 2006


21. january 2006	7. april 2006

Check out more pictures on BBC News.

There were also floods back in 2002.

Once Again

2006-04-05T23:43:00.000+02:00

This was my view for 8 hours yesterday, which means that I’m back in the EU. And I brought my baggage with me—both physically and mentally. I’m referring, of course, to my ability to tell time (or rather, lack thereof). I think it’s a case of déjà vu, as I could practically just re-publish my last post.

I woke up (once again) confused. The sun was already (once again) high in the sky, and my guess was (once again) that it was still before noon. Having just arrived in Budapest yesterday, I didn’t know (once again) when the sun was rising here.

I looked at my alarm clock, and it was dead. Well, actually, before I left Budapest a few weeks back, I turned around the battery to save it. When I returned yesterday, I set the time and the alarm, and turned the alarm on, but I never turned the battery back around. No go on the alarm clock.

I looked at my cell phone, and it was dead too. Well, the battery actually completely drained before I was able to recharge it, which resets the internal calendar to January 1, 2000, 12:00 AM (no blinking). No go on the cell.

I looked at my laptop computer, but then I wasn’t sure (1) which time zone it reflected, and (2) if it automatically adjusted to daylight savings time. No go on the computer.

The last resort was my iPod. But whatever I read from it would be completely useless anyway. My iPod is synched with my Mac, and I have no idea which time zone it is currently set to, let alone how accurate the time is (lately I just use my Mac for iTunes, so having the exact time isn’t all that important). No go on the iPod.

I’m thinking, how could this possibly happen to me twice within 3 days? (note to self: insert opinions and analysis of this same topic from last blog post ... kidding!) I hope I could say that this was (once again) justified: I did just arrive in Europe yesterday afternoon, and my body was still on one of 3 time zones (Chicago-standard, Chicago-daylight savings time/New York-standard, or New York-daylight savings time).

I needed a new approach. I called my office, introducing the conversation with the possibility that I might need to apologize for being late, but that I just wasn’t sure. Needless to say, they didn’t exactly buy my story (but I think they secretly gave me points for creativity). You see, the night before, all of the architects had a really big party. Well, there was some drinking. When I finally arrived at the office (around 12:30), I found out that several of the architects got really sick from the previous night. They were all drinking lots of beer and Unicum, a Hungarian specialty. I only had some wine and mézes szilva pálinka, a more refined Hungarian specialty. From what I hear, it sounds like the office was somewhat empty before 11:00 this morning.

I was flying high, enjoying the pain that everyone else was feeling, as I had none. The photo below is from yesterday, when I was flying high over Zürich, Switzerland.

Times a Changin'

2006-04-02T23:05:00.000+02:00

I woke up this morning confused, but this time it was justified. My kitchen appliances said 7:30 (NYC-standard time); my cable box, 8:30 (automatically changed to NYC-daylight savings time, being a “smart” little bugger); my watch, 6:30 (having been in Chicago last week); my PDA, 1:30 (Budapest-standard time); and my cell phone, 2:30 (Budapest-daylight savings time). Daylight savings time went into effect this morning in most of the States (and went into effect in most of Europe last weekend). I looked out my bedroom window for guidance. The sun was already high in the sky over the Hudson River, but all I could tell was that it was probably sometime before noon (I just arrived in New Jersey, and wasn’t sure when the Sun was rising here these days). And I couldn’t tell if the dog walkers were on their first or second walks of the day.

I find it disconcerting that I felt so disoriented by not knowing the actual local time. I didn’t know how long I’ve been asleep, I didn’t know if I would be on time for kickboxing training, and most importantly: I couldn’t properly set my mental countdown to the airing of the new episode of The Sopranos... this was really a stressful morning for me.

I walked by the mysterious “clock” (in the photo above) overlooking Union Square today. Nobody really knows what the constantly changing numbers mean (so I’m not sure why it’s commonly referred to as a “clock”). One theory was that it was a countdown to the opening ceremonies of the Olympics in NYC, but they were wrong (good thing too, as we didn’t win the bid). Some say that it somehow, at the same time, is a countdown to—and counting from—midnight. Whatever it actually tells us, almost everyone that sees it seriously ponders its meaning and how it relates to them.

It’s funny how influential the concept of time has become upon our lives, especially in the urban areas (is it because of all the clock towers?). In NYC, you could practically set your watch to someone coming into Starbucks for their morning half-decaf-grande-con-latte. Change is not a welcome concept to the regulars.

Sitting in Washington Square this afternoon, enjoying my $4.50 mocha and $3.25 brownie (that’s my food budget for 2+ days in Budapest) from Dean & Deluca, I started thinking more about change. It seems that most of our free time is spent preparing for changes in our lives. It could be planning a wedding, finding a new apartment, or applying to school. When you think about it, it’s the anticipation of change that seems to take over our lives... Did we prepare enough? Will the change be successful and fulfill our dreams? Will the Olympics come to NYC? And all of these things just seem to add stress to our lives. The actual event is simply a milestone that quickly comes and goes. When the change takes hold, it becomes a “stepping stone” for us; when it doesn’t, it becomes a “memory.” But it’s the “memories” that seem to be more often cherished and celebrated. I think I’m giving birth to a new motto: Spend less time on the prep work and reduce stress... you’ll have more memories. OK, maybe I’ll think about that some more.

Being on the border between two time zones, parts of Indiana observes Eastern time, while the rest observes Central time. To complicate matters, a different division of the state does not observe the change to daylight savings time at all. The Northwest corner of Indiana (the suburbs of Chicago) follows Eastern (NYC) time during the Fall and Winter, and Central (Chicago) time during the Spring and Summer. I’ve worked with several people from this area, and they all seem well-balanced and grounded. I think not having to deal with the time issues that I had this morning might have had an impact. To reduce some of the unnecessary stress, I propose that we “promote” this concept of daylight savings time to a memory. Let’s negotiate and permanently adjust the time by 30 minutes, half-way in-between standard and daylight savings times.

Born into our Hearts

2006-03-21T23:41:00.000+01:00

Jessica Kristina
born into our hearts March 21, 2006

Walk in the Park

2006-03-20T20:30:00.000+01:00

Feeling much better on Sunday, I took advantage of the great weather and went to Városliget (Budapest's City Park).

Hősök tere (Heroes' Square) features statues of several important people from Hungary's history.




	Above: Siemens flags were everywhere in Budapest, apparently sponsoring the Hungarian National Holiday on March 15, commemorating the 1848 Revolution against the Habsburgs.

Vajdahunyad Vára (Vajdahunyad Castle). Built for the millennium celebration of 1896, this copy of the Transylvanian castle of the same name now houses a museum of agriculture.

Saw some locals...

...and found the tourists.


	Above: I didn't exactly get the connection between Budapest and, what appeared to be, Native Americans.

There are great trees & sculptures.


	Left: This is actually an hour glass. When time is up, this huge granite thing rotates.

And I had to visit Fővárosi Állat- és Növénykert
(Budapest's zoo & botanical gardens).


	Left: The elephants' food reminds me of my prep work from my last post.



	Above: In Budapest, raccoons are in the zoo. In Chicago, raccoons can be found everywhere except in the zoo.

Determined

2006-03-18T17:05:00.000+01:00

I came home last night feeling a little sick (no, it’s not bird flu!). I know my body, and the best way for me to get over it is with a great meal and lots of sleep. Having shopped for my standard Italian ingredients earlier in the week, I felt that the cure was close at hand. So, I started by trying to open a bottle of wine. Unfortunately, the bottle opener I bought was defective, and ended up grinding the cork to a point where it was no longer possible to open by civilized means.

...but I was determined, so I got out a brand-new Ikea butter knife and started carving out the cork. Well, these butter knives are kind of sharp, and as the cork slid a bit further into the bottle, the knife went with it and took a slice out of my hand. The cut was very deep, and there were splashes (not drops!) of dark red blood everywhere. I cleaned up my wound (as well as the apartment) and bandaged up my hand.

...but I was determined, so I continued with the butter knife and bottle thing, this time keeping closer watch on my appendages. Because the cork had slid so far down, I figured it was best to continue with that approach. One big push of the knife, and the cork plunged into the bottle, subsequently forcing a geyser of wine out the top. Wine everywhere (including the ceiling), I had to once again clean my apartment (and now I also had to start a load of laundry), but I finally had my glass of wine.

...but I was determined, so I moved on to start cooking my first meal in my Ikea cube (my apartment is essentially an Ikea showroom). The knife I bought was still wrapped, and I soon discovered that I needed another knife just to open the packaging for that knife. This time, my tool of choice was a pair of scissors, which I could barely use with all of the pressure on my bound hand.

...but I was determined, so I cautiously proceeded, trying not to cut my good hand (and that’s already the second glass of wine in the photo). Successful, I was on to the next stage: prep. I gathered all of the ingredients, and realized that I only had one fully-functional hand to slice and dice (I have a new-found respect for those armless people you see on The Learning Channel that seem to be more “dexterous” with their feet than most are with their hands).

...but I was determined, so I carefully advanced with the dangerous task. As is always the case, you try not to get your wound too involved, but it was unavoidable. The acidic tomato juice had somehow found its way to the cut, as if it were magnetically attracted.

...but I was determined, so I moved full-speed ahead. Being right next door to Transylvania, I even treated myself to extra garlic. The scene was even more dramatic because the music I was listening to (OK, singing along with in full tenor voice, even though I’m a baritone) seemed to be warning me: Giusto ciel, non avanza, implorar la tua pietà (righteous heaven, I cannot go on, I beg for your mercy).

...but I was determined, damn it! After finishing the prep work, the next piece reassured me a bit: Giunse alfine il bel momento che c’invita a respirar (when I reach the end, the great moment will invite me to breathe). The next song just seemed to be mocking me: Lascia la spina, cogli la rosa (leave the thorns, cut away the rose). I chose to ignore that!

I’ve come so far, there was no looking back. And finally, 2.5 hours later, I had finished the simple meal that I had set out to create (not bad, considering my risotto takes 3 hours, sans disasters). It was well worth it... it tasted amazing!

After that, I decided to enjoy a glass of Hungarian mézes szilva pálinka (to je žganje z medom + žganje s suho slivo). I was now ready for step 2 of my recovery: sleep!

Missing in Motion

2006-03-13T20:01:00.000+01:00

Wow, I guess it’s been a month since I last posted here... sorry for neglecting my loyal readers! I took a quick trip to the two tri-states (those, of course, being Illinois-Indiana-Wisconsin and New York-New Jersey-Connecticut). But I’m back in at my new home. In my short visit back to the States, I was reacquainted with things that I really didn’t expect to miss, for example:

The “Moo” sound effect on CNBC’s Mad Money
Driving the NJ Turnpike as if it were an Xbox game
And considering how, on my way home one evening last week, the tram stopped about 3 kilometers short of my apartment – no explanation (well, if “Gyuullookoakkwkk googoo byalakolokemisheni googoo gaganook” is an explanation, then I digress). The tram stopped, the driver exited his compartment and subsequently left the carriage, and it seemed that we were simply parked in the middle of the tram tracks for the night. My point: I also miss the reassuring sound of the NYC subway announcers saying “Stand clear of the closing doors please” ... I’m guessing that wasn’t the translation of whatever was announced on the Budapest transit system.

One thing that I knew I would miss is waking up to—and going to sleep to—the view from my “real” home. While Budapest is beautiful; for me, there’s no substitute for the NYC skyline being outside your apartment window!

Vse Najboljše!

2006-02-13T03:55:00.000+01:00

Today, Mr. Puppy is 9 years old. Miha and I have been through a lot together. When I think about it, he’s been the only constant in my life for these past nine years. Miha (Michael) is, of course, named after the arch-angel (is that the sun or his halo in the picture above?). I guess you can say he watches over me, sometimes more than I over him. The photo above was from a hike in northern New Jersey. The photo below is from a day we visited Central Park with my mom (click on each of the photos for the rest).

Simply saying “Happy Birthday” doesn’t resound with the strength and respect that should be conveyed. In Germany, one would say “Alles gute zum Geburtstag!” and in Slovenija, “Vse najboljše za rojstni dan!” (both meaning “all the best to you on your birthday”). That seems to be a bit more proper. Regardless, these days, birthdays seem to be more about the nuisance of remembering to buy something for someone that is within the acceptable price range, and accompanied by the right Hallmark card. More recently, e-greetings seem to be replacing the effort all together. Ach!

A few weeks ago at the office here in Hungary, we all gathered in the mid-afternoon to celebrate someone’s nameday with a Champaign toast. It was a very proper and thought-provoking gathering. The crowd of some 30 people was almost silent... none of the typical, awkward humor you get during such a gathering in the States, just a solemn moment of tribute to a valued colleague. It’s a very big thing here in Catholic parts of Europe to celebrate the day of the saint, after whom you were named. My staramama (grandmother) used to always celebrate name days (I’m not even sure she would recognize her actual birthday), and I’ve completely forgotten all about this practice since she passed away. It was a real treat to be reminded of something so special. I’ve never met the girl to whom we were toasting, so I instead had a secret toast to my staramama. She is always in my thoughts!

Unnatural Disasters

2006-02-10T18:31:00.000+01:00

Hungary. 19. January
Slovak military plane crashes while returning home from duty. 42 dead

Montenegro. 23. January
Passenger train derails and plunges into ravine. 41 dead

Pakistan. 29. January
Sabotaged tracks cause train to derail and plunge into ravine. 3 dead

Poland. 29. January
Exhibition hall roof collapses under the weight of snow onto attendees of a pigeon-racing show. 63 dead

Egypt. 3. February
Ferry sinks in the Red Sea, after being retired from service in Italy for safety reasons. 800 missing

Philippines. 4. February
Stampede erupts as contenders vie for tickets to participate in a game show. 74 dead

Avoidable? Possibly, someone could have read my post:
3 Tissues, 3 Trabbies.

Taken out of service in Italy because of safety concerns, this aging vessel was transferred to Egypt and placed back into service. Two additional stories were added, further challenging the limits of what this ship was originally designed to support, in terms of increased weight capacity and a vertically elevated center of gravity.

Cleaning Up Politics

2006-02-04T19:40:00.000+01:00

The Parliament building is in the process of being cleaned.
I prefer the character that comes with the weathered look.

3 Tissues, 3 Trabbies

2006-02-01T00:05:00.000+01:00

The extreme cold here in Budapest has afforded me some observations that led me to thinking. We can all find patterns in our lives and in the world around us, but our subconscious typically discards the input. Promoting the influential impact of these otherwise seemingly insignificant paradigms on our way of thinking is quite possibly one key on the keychain of happiness.

On my daily, 21 minute walk home from work, I’ve noticed a pattern that you might find a bit silly: I have to blow my nose exactly three times. What's exciting is that I can share more details…

2 minutes into the brisk walk, the first calling comes. This is just as I leave T-Mobile Park, which is where my office is located. Maybe the constant visual frequency of the hot-pink T-Mobile brand identity throughout the neighborhood protects my nasal passages while still under the domain.

The 11th minute of the journey presents the next viscously excretory urge. This is coincidentally during the most difficult street crossing. In a quick athletic sprint, I must cross 6 lanes of traffic going in 4 different directions, as well as 2 sets of tram tracks. Cars don’t stop for people here like they do in the States, and the possibility of financial benefits due to injury is not exactly a known concept in Eastern (or are we “Central” now?) Europe. Personal responsibility is compulsory, and safety is a must!

And finally, 17 minutes along my voyage as I’m taking a shortcut through the park (pictured in my first blog post), the shnoz demands more attention. This is at the same time that I must navigate my way through a mass of dogs running and sniffing around me. But I don’t mind (I miss my puppy!).

I’ve found these numbers consistently accurate (translation for my fellow geeks… n=10, CL: 95% or 2SD, CI: ±1 min.).

Another timely example is the beloved Trabant (or Trabbi), which is a cheerful little car that was made in East Germany during the Soviet era and sold throughout the Eastern Bloc. Trabbies can still be readily found on the sides of the roads in these countries. Some of them were intentionally parked, and some were simply abandoned. With this weather, it seems that the ratio of abandoned to parked Trabbis has risen.

At 9:00 in a certain neighborhood, there were 12 parked and 7 abandoned Trabbis. At the current temperature of -5°C, one Trabbi is parked every 10 minutes and one is abandoned every 6 minutes. Assuming that none of the Trabbis were removed, at what time does the quantity of abandoned Trabbies first exceed the quantity of parked Trabbis? (sorry… I’m studying for the GMAT and word problems seem to be my life! I digress…)

My point (and I do have one!): If we start to recognize more of these patterns in our lives, we can better plan for these events and not have to deal with them in disaster mode. When I cross the chaotic intersection, I’m able to focus on safety and not fumble for a tissue to deal with my runny nose (because before I leave the office, I make sure that I have at least 3 tissues in my right pocket). And as I stroll through the park, I’m able to enjoy all the runny canine noses rather than my own. If I had a Trabbi repair business, just think about the product and service placement opportunities from knowing these statistics. And if I personally owned a Trabbi… well, I would simply park it at these temperatures and walk, and start my day on a positive note as I enjoy watching the distress of the other Trabbi owners that didn’t recognize the obvious and predictable scenario.

OK, having to blow your nose while enjoying the company of dogs isn’t exactly a potential disaster, but you get my point. One of my colleagues always explains the concept that there are known unknowns (what I’m talking about), and unknown unknowns (the other stuff). I'll state it simply: Recognize the former so you can celebrate the latter.

... in case you were interested:
Answer: 10:18.

Missed Opportunities

2006-01-29T12:30:00.000+01:00

As you all know, I love to capture those Kodak moments (and yeah, I know, you all want copies of them). But snapping some photos could cross a threshold into, well, rudeness. Since I wasn’t sure what was culturally acceptable (photographically speaking), I’ll describe a few pictures that I would like to have taken over the past week. Alternative photos are provided.

As I was walking toward this advertising kiosk, a man was walking toward me that looked exactly like this. The two (man and kiosk) stood side by side, and looked like twin brothers.

I was enjoying my afternoon goulash when a lady walked by smoking a pipe. I’m not sure if that’s common here, but it was quite a visual for me. Picture her sitting on the bench dressed like Sherlock Holmes, complete with hat.

I went to lunch with some of my German colleagues on Friday, and one of them ordered a pizza with paprika (paprika peppers are a national treasure in Hungary). Apparently, these peppers were extremely hot, as his entire head was sweating profusely and dripping everywhere. It looked like he had just finished the final attack round of a boxing match. That would definitely have been a rude photograph. Instead, here is a picture of a typical paprika vendor at the market.

Brrrrrrrr!

2006-01-28T12:32:00.000+01:00

Russia has been generous in sending us dangerously cold weather, which has been freezing the Danube River each night. I don't remember the last time the temperature was above the freezing point in Budapest! I took these photos this morning as I walked across the Liberty Bridge (below).

Igen Magyar!

2006-01-21T18:53:00.000+01:00

I arrived in Budapest a week ago with a challenge: to make this my new home. I’ve visited Budapest several times over the past few years, but now I've been asked to make our office here my base.

While I have to put my US life on hold yet again, I am excited to take on another delegation in Europe. And Budapest is one of the greatest cities in which to do so. One of the new EU member states, Hungary is experiencing somewhat of an economic boom. But I don’t care too much about that. What really invigorates me is the constant reminder of the great Austro-Hungarian Empire, to which I find myself feeling a sort of allegiance. While transforming into a modern city since it became an independent republic some 15 years ago, Hungary retains amazing references to the former imperial days through her architecture, culture, and general way of life. I always get the feeling that the royal family is up in the palace protecting us and ensuring our prominent and peaceful place in the world.

History can be found everywhere in this city. I set out today to achieve my simple objective, that being trying to find some local markets. I spent most of my time walking down Béla Bartók street (named for the great Hungarian composer and pianist) and October 23 street (commemorating the uprising against the Soviets in 1966). Unfortunately, the markets were all closed by 13:00, which is when I arrived. I guess the fact that there are no 24-hour super-mega grocery stores also somewhat preserves and respects history.

Linguistically, Hungarian is unfortunately not related to any of the languages with which I’m familiar. But I’m prepared, having loaded a full set of language lessons onto my iPod prior to my departure. I am proud to announce that I have made some progress. When people speak to me, I used to confidently reply “nem Magyar.” That, unfortunately, means “no Hungary” (and I think that could be construed as a political insult… oops! To attempt to make up for my ignorant aspersion, I’ve titled this entry “Igen Magyar!” meaning “Yes Hungary!”). Just yesterday, on my way to the secret lunch place (more on that in a future blog), I learned that “nem beszélek magyarul” is actually what I should have been saying.

I’m not much of a blogger, having spent 9 years in the publishing world, complete with editors, proofreaders, fact-checkers, and a production team (and, of course, a sales team!). But I’m ready to embrace the medium, assuming the full publishing workflow on my own (and with no plans of selling advertising space). The editors and proofreaders are replaced by Microsoft Word, the fact-checkers by wikipedia.org, and the production team by blogger.com (I guess saving all of the staffing costs no longer requires a sales team to support them all!). In any case, I’ll throw my random tangential thoughts here, so it will be like I never left New York City. As they say in the UK, “press us!” (or rather, bookmark this page).