Quality...

Marketing is an amazing (and funny) thing.  Consider the plight of The Midland Certified Reagent Company, manufacturers of quality oligonucleotides. I don't care how nerdy your clientele is, I would imagine that trying to produce an ad for these guys must be quite a challenge.  Here's the small text ad they came up with in the 03 Feburary 2006 issue of Science Magazine.

  "Quality ...

  is like buying oats.  If you want nice, clean, fresh oats, you have to pay a fair price for them.  Oats that have already been through the horse come a bit cheaper."

  I don't care what you think, it takes a creative mind to come up with this tagline and their management had to have some balls for approving it.  Think of it, in Science Magazine, they just managed to characterize their (cheaper) competitors products as sh*t ... and they got away with it. *genius*

Orchestra??

Main Entry: or·ches·tra (courtesy of  Merriam-Webster)
Pronunciation: \ˈȯr-kəs-trə, -ˌkes-\
Function: noun
3: a group of musicians including especially string players organized to perform ensemble music

I've had orchestras on my mind lately. A variety of reasons.  A few years ago, I was lucky enough to visit Taiwan along with my family for one of my dad's conferences.  On the conference program was a performance by a local high school orchestra.  I was completely unprepared for what I saw. 

It started out normally.  Big auditorium, lots of students sitting in the normal half moon arrangement.  Truthfully, I wasn't paying that much attention.  The conductor walked out and started going through the familiar setup for the performance.  As soon as the first note was sounded, I had A Shift (you know, where your perception of the world changes).  I realized that while this looked like a "normal" orchestra, I didn't recognize a single instrument the students were playing.  It was a wild and exhiliarating concert.

The definition of orchestra is vague and ambiguous (as it should be).  It had never occurred to me that you could have an orchestra without most of the traditional western instruments.  Looking back, it's an amazingly silly assumption for me to make.

One last point, I'm not sure if you could see this in China.  The only orchestras I saw there had mostly western instruments.  Taiwan seems to be carrying the torch for these "Traditional Chinese Orchestras."  It's one more piece of evidence that the historical culture of China is actually being maintained by the people in Taiwan (since they didn't go through 50 years of the  government trying to stamp out religion and cultural heritage). 

Here's a few links with some orchestras:

1. An elemetary school orchestra
2. A university competition in Taiwan
3. Lunar New Year Gala in Taiwan (2005)

Anuj Attempts a Eulogy

  At my grandfather's funeral last weekend, my mother had asked me if I could say a few words.  I agreed but I know that I'm an emotional guy so I was a bit worried about being able to get through a "few words" while maintaining any coherent speech patterns amidst the sobbing and sucking in of air.  Difficult, but doable.

  About two minutes before the ceremony, my brother pulls me aside and tells me that our mom has asked him to be the MC and that he has decided that I'll be giving the main eulogy. I gave him a murderous look (I know, odd given the circumstances) and set to work expanding my "few words."  Here's what I came up with.

  "My grandfather was an honourable man.  I know this from the stories other people told me about him and from what I remember of him.  Some have said that perhaps he was too honourable.  That at some points in his life, he was honourable to the point that other, less honourable people took advantage of him.  Be that as it may; he had a vision of who he was and how he would live his life.  He wouldn't let the dishonour of others control how he lived his life.  I believe he was in control of his life until the very end when all he'd lost control of was his death.

  I never saw him frown.  Sure, I've heard stories about him being angry or being stern, but I never saw it.  I only remember his smiles and laughs.  The closest he came to an even-set face or sadness what when he talked about the injustice of being allowed to see the death of a daughter-in-law and a grandson.

  Last of all my grandfather was really very cool, mischievous and had a sharp mind.  He wasn't above using his grandchildren to make life difficult for his own kids.  I remember coming home from University with my hair starting to grow long and sporting a new earring.  My parents were not judgemental but both he and I knew that they assumed it was a phase that I would grow out of (and maybe I would have).  When I saw him, he sat me down.  He told me that when he was my age, he had his ears pierced (both of them!) and wore these long earrings.  His sabotage was successful.  I still have my earring."

My Set Is Now Complete

Some people have a knack for using just the right phrase to make an impact.  Here's a story my brother told about my grandfather at his funeral this past weekend.  Of course, I have paraphrased his speech due to my inability to remember everything.

  "For those of you that know me, you know I'm a fairly private person.  One example of that is that I don't like to make a big deal about my birthday.  I would rather the day just passed without the big party or all the attention. While I was in college and graduate school, I had roommates who always seemed to know when my birthday was coming and threw a party.  It took me a long time to figure out how they knew since they never really knew the exact day of my birthday.

  My grandfather's name is very easy to remember, Dr. Hom Chand.  My roommates would simply wait for a large, brightly colored envelope which had a return address with the name Dr. Hom Chand.  Then they knew my birthday was near.  I've saved every birthday card he sent me and now, it seems that my set is complete.  Even though there won't be any more cards, I will always remember that he will be close to me on my birthday and he always had a way of making sure that those around me also celebrated my birthday with me."

I'm Moving In

I've just moved in to a new, permanent apartment and it has sucked down all sorts of time, heartache, sorrow and energy.  I'm living in the Post Rice Lofts. (On the left side, click on "Select Desired Community" and scroll down to Post Rice).

Here's a link to some photos on Flickr if you're in the mood to see the before and after shots.  Of course, this means before my stuff was delivered and then immediately after my stuff was delivered.  I haven't even come close to cleaning up yet!  More info on what's going on in a bit.

Photos on Flickr.

It's Good to be the Count

  Seen several times on drive from London to Stonehenge.  I don't know what "Countess Services" are but they sound a bit naughty.  And I want some.

Where Am I?

Based on popular demand, here are a few photos of where I've spent the last few months.

HOME:

  I've been living in a temporary housing situation (month-to-month rent for a furnished apartment) that has worked out quite well.  It's a small 1+ bedroom house in the backlot of a street where the owners manage almost all the properties on that block.  Great people.  These first two photos are looking from the driveway at the house.  On the left you can see my car (which is now in the shop getting its windows fixed *grumble*).

  Here's another photo of the view looking back out at the street.  You can see how far back this house is.

WORK:

  Here are some images of my workplace.  Before you go and get me into trouble, let me make sure you understand that these are pictures of my building and pictures of the view from my office.  Anything you see inside my office is entirely incidental and not at all indicative of my true work environment or any secret Schlumberer information.  Can anyone tell that I've had a run-in with management over secrecy within the last year? :)

  Here are some images of the outside of the building.  You can see that one of them was taken from my car with the door open (the windows don't work, remember?  That's why it's in the shop!).

Following are a few pictures from the inside of my office.  For those of you in Beijing, it's a fairly clear day but not as clear as it could be.  I love having the long, uninterrupted views of my surroundings (not to mention being able to look down on the peasantry).

  In case you're wondering, I am writing this from the office because I have to take the bus (and/or walk) home tonight and I'm procrastinating.  Why?  My car is the shop!!  If you're prone to sympathy, I currently live about 10 miles from home but the bus system in Houston leaves a lot to be desired (namely, more buses).

... Book By It's Cover

China has a blind spot.  Almost everyone who is Chinese, looks Chinese.  To 95% of the people in America, it's amazing to think of a country where 95% of the population is a single ethnic group.  Unfortunately for many overseas Chinese, many people in China also think that if you look Chinese, then you must be Chinese.  (That's believing an invalid converse for you logicians out there.)

 Of course, the Chinese know better but just because you know better, doesn't mean you act that way.  Overseas Chinese have difficulties because local people just don't understand how they can be American.  To make matters even more interesting, I've had Chinese people asking how Indians (meaning me; remember this, it's important later) or even black people could call themselves American.  Here is one of the great powers that America wields.  Looking at someone doesn't imply that you can tell if they are American.  Even more powerfully: Looking at someone doesn't imply that you can tell if they are not American.  Pretty cool, eh? (Logically, this means that someones appearance has no relationship to whether or not they are American.)

  There are two sides to every coin, however.  Recently, I've had the following conversation several times in Houston:

  Them: You just moved to Houston?  Where did you come from?
  Me: China.
  Their brain is obviously working furiously for a few seconds and they don't want to make the next statement, but then they do.
  Them: So... you're ... Chinese?

  Apparently, Americans are so comfortable with ethnic identity being separated from national identity, that they ...  make statements like this.  They know that many other countries are ethnically homogenous (relative to the US) but they can fail to act on that knowledge.  While Chinese people tend to judge a book by it's cover, Americans absolutely refuse to do so, even when they really should.

  The innate foolishness of mankind still shines through.  Brings a tear to my eye. *sniff*

P.S. If I've made some technical error in my use of formal logical terms, please remember that I didn't do very well in my (many, many) college classes on logic.  However, this did not prevent me from basing my dissertation on very complicated logic theorems.

Indifference and Insult

In my recent post on my activities in China, I left out one item that I wasn't comfortable posting at the time.  Here's what I really should have posted:

• I found myself defending China to people in the United States.
• I found myself defending the United States to people in China
• I discovered that no one really cares about India except as a source of good food, movies and beautiful women.

  For someone who originally thought that China and India were somewhat equal partners on the world stage, it was harsh to have China keep reminding me that this just isn't true.  Let's get a little context before I start to sound really bitter.

  Let's take the 1962 Sino-Indian War.  I don't want to get into who started it or who was at fault.  There are two sides and each side thinks that all the blame lies with the other party.  What's more an issue is that this was a really important event in Indian history.  India was caught off-guard with the Chinese strength and my mother tells me that many Indians thought that the country was finished.  The story was that the Chinese army was basically advancing almost as fast they could move and that nothing was stopping them.  Then, suddenly, the Chinese stopped and left.  It was almost as if they said,"We might as well take our toys and go home."

  I asked some Chinese friends about what they were taught about the war and they looked at me like I was crazy. "What, we fought a war with India?  No way; you must be mistaken." Finally, I found one guy who said he remembered a history textbook which mentioned the war as a minor skirmish for about one sentence (or maybe one paragraph at the very most).  What?! A paragraph ... at most??  A minor skirmish?

  The final victory for the Chinese in the war was that they got to ignore it completely while it left a giant scar in the Indian psyche.  India had been invaded and the only reason it was still a nation was because the invaders, of their own accord, just ... stopped and went home.  This experience really taught me the harsh power of indifference.  Indifference (more than hate or anger) can be one of the most insulting responses.  While I'm not saying it would better if the Chinese hated India (many of them love India), it would be nice if there had been some impact on China for all the trouble.

Life on the Farm

  I remember reading an article in one of the Beijing expat magazines.  This article was about an elderly couple that were making a living in Beijing collecting scrap paper for recycling.  They had previously been farmers in the countryside and now earned about 600 yuan/month (about $70 at the time).  This means that they were living in Beijing on 20 yuan/day.  That they could support two people on this amount is just astonishing.

  I was further surprised when they apparently told the reporter that they loved living in Beijing.  They said it was so easy and they had free time and could even choose to take days off.  This all left me wondering,"What must life have been like in the countryside to make you love living in Beijing on 20 yuan per day (for two people!)?"  In my time in Beijing, I kept thinking about this couple and it reminded of how lucky I am and how little it really takes to keep yourself truly happy.

  This came to mind recently when I read an article about the falling value of recyclable materials in China.  Apparently, the prices have tanked with the economic downturn.  I wonder how this couple is doing.  I hope they have managed to find another source of revenue or somehow continue their life.  I know that they were enjoying their 600 yuan lifestyle but I'm pretty sure there wasn't much leeway in their income.