An Old Hobby

Easily measured – Latest target – A word for bread

For the first time in a long time we are in a position where we do not know the local language. Learning languages is addictive and to feed this addiction we travel. There are few goals where ones progress can be simply and easily measured. Mountain climbing in one of them – keep one foot in front of the other and you make progress towards your simple goal; if you turn around then no more progress is made and the goal is not reachable. Similarly, when learning a language you get instant feed back on how well you are progressing by gradually increasing comprehension and communication.

Silly Mammal

So our latest target is Portuguese. In Brazil the language is soft with a lazy pronunciation, it is hard to imagine a Brazilian mafioso being very threatening when the language is so soft and dulcet. I’m sure the mafiosi can make up for this in other ways, but the language has the effect of making the Brazilians seem even more friendly than they are. We are approaching Portuguese much less seriously than we have approached other languages in the past – our efforts are limited to listening to Pimsleur lessons downloaded via the excellent San Francisco Public Library site. The Brazilians for their part laud any effort to speak Portuguese and I get the impression that most Americans who visit speak very little of it, if any.

Above the canopy

One of the most fulfilling parts of learning a new language is that you get a good dose of that culture while at it. Each word is a small history unto itself, a trace of where it has been. So it has been quite interesting encountering Portuguese words from my childhood, those that have woven themselves into Marathi. The word for potato, batata, the word for bucket, balde, and sapata, the word for slipper. But the most interesting has been pao. Pao, the hated word of hindu fundamentalists, part of paowala, the pejorative term for white man. Pao, a word overloaded with culture and meaning is the word for bread.

Transpantaneira	Roberto

Professor Frank Gagliardi lecturing to his students

The process of getting an education in Automotive Technology is described. The personalities and travails thereof. A discussion of why the class is endangered. (Map this!)

The biggest and scariest unknown on this trip was automotive technology since neither Neena nor I had the slightest inkling, the briefest hint, the most minuscule crumb of knowledge about cars. We took a twofold approach – automotive classes at the City College of San Francisco and the purchase of a ‘project’ car for our ‘lab’.

Professor Gagliardi is one of those rare teachers with the power to inspire. I don’t know how many teachers I had in college and even though I graduated from one of the top Computer Science programs in the nation but not one, not a single one was as inspiring as Frank Gagliardi. Teaching students is a talent and professors with research prowess at big-name universities do not always make good teachers – indeed some only give classes begrudgingly since they would rather be in the lab working one some obscure project that will likely be irrelevant to most everyone. The formula at my University was classes taught by professors who would rather not teach and students who would rather not learn.

The class that Frank teaches can almost be regarded as community service. For the most part the students in his class are there to improve themselves and for some a major car repair would keep them from making the monthly rent. Then there is Neena & I who are working towards a dream, a retired civil engineer named Henry who likes to keep himself sharp, and life-long learners Smitty and Elizabeth. It is the best example of people raising themselves up through education and letting the community help them without any hand-out. Republicans should love this class – this is what the party is about or claims to be about.

Why is it that at the end of every nature program there is a statement like ‘But this fragile ecosystem is in danger of…’ This story is no different as all things near and dear to me today, the class is threatened. The college seems to be embarrassed with this basic class that teaches so much to those who willingly learn. After being named one of the top ten community colleges in the nation it seems to no longer want to offer a class that serves the community. This semester the class was almost canceled and only through Frank’s strenuous efforts was it kept open. Why does he keep fighting for us? He’s of retirement age and could easily do without the headaches and stress. Could it be that for reasons of his own Frank Gagliardi enjoys teaching the class as much as we enjoy learning from him?

Akimbo Ninjas! (Map this!)

Leaving a job is never easy, especially when I know that I will not be seeking another one for at least fifteen months. At the end of those fifteen months I know not what the job market be like. A twenty+ year career in the high-tech industry has provided us with the financial stability for our long expeditions and explorations. It has been a fun ride but now who knows what the future holds for us? Is is a new career in the wine industry? Or will we work in the Antarctic? The possibilities are endless, and fascinating…

I joined Akimbo Systems Inc. when it was a wee startup, when we were in a building that rented “Class B” office space to us. The office continually failed fire inspections so the fire marshal demanded test after test after test and the religious building manager made a sign of the cross whenever she saw us because we were vendors of porn. After our round of funding we moved to a “Class A” building two blocks away which had a nice shrubbery. The shrubbery was a continual source of delight for me, and I started each day with a smile because of it.

You are not supposed to like your job. You have to complain about it, gripe about it, moan how you don’t want to go to work. At times I have been profoundly unhappy at Akimbo, but for the most part it has been rewarding, comfortable, and satisfying. My friends I will miss you and keep you close to my heart.

Shreesh’s Resignation Letter

Shreesh Taskar
645 Stockton St. #806
San Francisco, CA, 94108
Shreesh@xxxxx.xxx, (415) xxx-xxxx

August 23th, 2007

Mr. Peter Reeves
Director of Engineering
Akimbo Systems Inc.
411 Borel, #100
San Mateo, CA, 94402

Dear Mr. Reeves,

Effective September 15th, 2007, I will be resigning my position of Senior Software Engineer.

It has been a wonderful experience watching Akimbo grow from a tiny startup to where it is today. I thank you for giving me the opportunity to contribute to our efforts and it is now time for me to fully dedicate myself to my North and South American Expedition.

With the best of wishes for your success and the warmest of regards,

__________________

Shreesh P. Taskar

Temple of Forgiveness

The first in a series of Burning Man reports discusses the art. This is only one facet of Burning Man but the most important. This is why we go. (Map this!)

Every year a city rises from the flat expanse of the Black Rock desert. It is a city of art, exuberance, and wonder. The starkness of the playa provides a perfect canvas and a perfect stage for that which unfolds. And unfold it does for the playa is a chrysalis. Sculptures of gigantic proportions, heart thumping raves, mutant vehicles, and performance art all vie for the attention of the sleep deprived and exhausted participant. Every year, on Saturday, the man burns. Why they build him and why he burns is all left to the interpretation of the viewer.

Equally amazing art dotted the playa. A large oil derrick was surrounded by colossal figures praying to it as if it were a god, to indicate our dependence on the mighty crude. Gasoline, as much as you want, till it runs out. A tesla coil was in among the figures signifying… what the heck, tesla coils are cool, they don’t NEED to signify anything! By the temple two big rig intertwined in a downward spiral of dependence. For those ambitious enough to climb inside the big rigs there was a garden about half way up.

A favourite pass-time.

My favorite passtime – Why I liked “Sacred Games”

I come from a family of readers. From my grandparents to my parents, we all like nothing better than sitting with a good book. Recently some really good ones came my way. “Sacred Games” by Vikram Chandra. “The Reluctant Fundamentalist” by Mohsin Hamid. The brilliant Nigerian writer Chinua Achebe.

People (and websites) will sometimes ask “What’s your favorite book?” or “Who is your favorite author?” I have trouble answering this question. I often wonder, “What makes a good book”? Why, for example, do I prefer Peter Mattieson’s travel writing to V.S. Naipaul’s? Why was I puzzled by the accolades given to Jonathan Franzen’s “Corrections” but loved Vikram Chandra’s “Scared Games”? Why, above all, do I devour the Harry Potter series, which is neither literature nor adult? Some authors transcend these kind of questions, like Jorge Luis Borges. But others, I suspect, touch a chord in us that makes us identify with their writing. Their books resonate half formed thoughts in our minds, or feel oddly familiar like comfort food. Or, we generally agree with their outlook.

Another beautiful day in the city spent at the City Lights book store

My grandfather used to say that he would rather be an armchair traveler and visit exotic places in a good book. Although he was talking mainly about the National Geographic magazine (where arguably the pictures are better than the real thing), I feel the opposite about books. Familiarity with a place and its rhythms endears a good book to me. This is why I loved “Sacred Games” that brought back a slice of Bombay. I could almost hear the Nigerians’ sing song African English in Chinua Achebe’s books, but I could not identify with V.S. Naipaul’s cynical style since I am inherently optimistic. And maybe Harry Potter brings back my days in primary school when Enid Blyton’s gnomes and goblins were my constant companions.

Contemplative.

Thoughts on “the other”

When Jean Paul Sartre tells us our freedom in “monstrous”, we immediately run into problems: namely, with six billion of us running around, each and every one with his own “monstrous” freedom, eventually my freedom is going to collide head-on with someone else’s freedom. Sartre spent a lot of time on this issue and the problem of the other, eloquently expounded in his play “No Exit” which contains the line that is the title of this post – “Hell is other people”.

Traveling is about encountering the other and this expedition is a deep foray into the realm of the other. Here in my lovely and comfortable city, I have very few encounters with those who are radically different than I am, most seem mini-clones of myself going about their business much in the same way I go about mine. It is not that we don’t have our share of the others, just take a trip to our prisons and our psychiatric institutions and you will find that they are concentrated with the other. The others have the power to change us, to affect us, and in radical instances they can steal our world and who we are.

Conte Ugolino in the Torre della Fame. The outcome was not positive. Painting by William Blake.

I am not quite so sure I agree with Sartre’s statement, even though “No Exit” is a tightly written and superbly horrific version of hell. Which hell is worse, being confined to a room for eternity with some of my most grating peers or suffering a fate like Conte Ugolino in canto XXXIII? For me I prefer to think of the others as those live differently, make choices radically different than mine, as those who can present a new and fresh look at reality. That is what makes life interesting, even though I do run the risk of having my world stolen…

Money, its a gas!

“Grab that cash with both hands and make a stash. New car, caviar, four star daydream, Think Ill buy me a football team.”

When discussing this drive I am frequently asked “How do you manage to take fifteen months off?” or “How can you afford this?”, for it is plainly obvious that we are quite middle class. We don’t have massive family wealth, we haven’t hit it big in the .com lottery, and we’re not high level executives. So there is the secret in plain view – almost anyone can afford a trip like this as long as they have the will and the confidence.

A long time ago I made a list of the things I like to do the most and came to the realization that most of those are free – enjoying the company of those I care about, taking a walk in the mountains, or reading a good book. I would not categorize myself as a saver because I do spend to make my day-to-day existence comfortable and pleasant but I try to spend only on that which I care about. Why spend $200 on a Montrachet when an equally good Riesling can be had at a fraction of the price? Frequently, the $200 Montrachet will be disappointing because so much is expected of it. Of course, there are exceptions to this.

Retail therapy?

I know that I am incapable of living a St. Francis like ascetic lifestyle because I like my comforts too much. What I try to achieve is balance, like a good Riesling. Yukiko Urano is travelling the world in a 250cc Suzuki on a shoestring budget of several hundred dollars a month. I just spent that on a set of PIAA driving lights – they are nice to have but do I really need them? Ari Meyers plans on going to Tierra del Fuego with his $600,000 UNICAT motorhome. Somewhere between the two, in the middle, there’s us.