Pain. Gain?

Apparently, at some point, working out makes you feel better. Right now, however, the pain is making me hate consciousness.

P.S.

Am I totally crazy for kind of wanting one of these? Even after I know that it costs $50? Of real money?

Miscellaneous S

This wasn’t supposed to be the next post, but the real next post has been delayed by enough days to make me feel I had to post something, so here’s a grab bag based on things that have happened to me lately.

On Corporate Loyalty
Riding home today, I saw something interesting: a sticker of the Under Armour logo on the back windshield of a car. I saw the sticker, recognized the logo, and thought nothing of it, until I suddenly found myself wondering why it was there. Clearly, the owner of the car acquired (or received) the sticker, and then consciously decided to put it on the car. In fairness, some people aren’t picky about what they stick on their cars, but this was the only sticker on this particular vehicle. I found myself wondering if someone would be that into their workout t-shirt that they’d stick its maker’s logo on their car.

Then I started calling hypocrisy on myself. After all, while I haven’t actually placed an Apple sticker on anything I own (they come with the computers), that’s mostly because I can’t decide where it would look best on my scooter. Of course, Apple has a well-known enthusiast following (sometimes condescendingly referred to as a “cult”), but I feel that’s because they make products that are, frankly, exciting. But, of course, I’m a geek. Maybe people get really excited about the latest Under Armour product too. Scott says they’ve got a cult following. Anyone else out there know anything about it? Any Under Armour fan site administrators?

On Wheels
I’m about to hit my 500th mile since I bought the scooter from John. I thought about riding around for a while tonight just so I could hit it, but I decided to wait for tomorrow’s ride to work.

On Work
It’s gotten really busy lately, to the point where I actually spend the majority of my day working, rather than reading the entire contents of the New York Times and keeping up on the tech blogs that I read. Today I sent out 16 packages, which I haven’t done in longer than I can remember.

On Politics
It seems that Karl Rove is resigning. I suppose that there are areas other than politics which require his evil genius, and after all, spending all that time undermining the republic must take its toll. Rove denied that the political difficulties facing the administration forced him out, saying, “I’m not going to stay or leave based on whether it pleases the mob.” I suppose by “mob” there, he means the U.S. Senate. My question here: As a private citizen, is he still allowed to dodge subpoenas on the President’s orders?

On Fun
I’ve been playing my Nintendo DS a lot lately, which was probably brought on by needing to amuse myself during my 15-hour delay flying to Newark (really a 5-hour delay, a cancellation, and a rebooking) to attend Sheryl’s cousin’s wedding as arm candy. This is actually the first time that I’ve owned a portable system, and it’s nice being able to pull it out when I’ve got a few minutes on the T, at the airport, etc. This is facilitated by the amazing sleep feature that Nintendo built in. When you close the DS, it goes to sleep, just a like a laptop, and wakes again when opened. What’s more, it can sleep for about a week on a full charge. For a portable system, this makes a lot of sense…no more making a choice between putting the system down to, say, get off the subway or loosing a half-hour’s worth of progress in your current game. Just close it up and pick up where you left off at your leisure. Especially for the casual gaming audience that Nintendo’s trying to cultivate, it makes a ton of sense. Plus, in New Super Mario Bros., you get to hear Mario say “It’s-a me, Mario!” every time you close your DS.

A Bard Passes

Tommy Makem died yesterday at 74. Like most descendants of the Irish diaspora, my first exposure to Irish music (taking aside my grandfather’s renditions of “Danny Boy”) was a CD of the best of Makem and his frequent collaborators the Clancy Brothers. The music they played plucked at my soul in a way that I hadn’t experienced before, despite its occasional over-heartiness.

It was years later that I first heard Makem live in concert, in the annual shows he gave on St. Patrick’s Day at St. Anselm College in my home town of Manchester, NH. Hearing him sing “Four Green Fields”, a simple plea for Ireland to be left to her own devices, couched in terms from Irish folklore, was one of the few times I can recall being moved to tears by music.

I was privileged to see Makem in concert on a few other occasions, and remained just as impressed. He could tell a rare story, and a rolling baritone that could intone Yeats’ The Lake Isle of Innisfree in a way that could make a whole auditorium hold its breath. For me, personally, his music sparked a lifelong love of Irish music that has enriched my life.

My thanks to you, Tommy Makem, for all you have given, and I hope that you’ve found a place where “peace comes dropping slow.”

Germany Roundup, part 3

DAY 6
SATURDAY

After arriving bleary-eyed at the Black Forest Hostel in Freiburg around midnight, waking up in the morning was a chance to take in our surroundings. The BFH was a little different than other hostels we had stayed in. Aesthetically, it seemed like a cross between a repurposed warehouse and a Tibetan monastery…lots of large concrete rooms, colorfully decorated. After returning the rental car and bidding farewell to our faithful Betsy, we split up for the day, a strategy calculated to forestall our killing each other. I centered my explorations around the Münsterplatz, the square in the center of town surrounding a large church. On a daily basis, the square is filled with the tents of a market dealing in vegetables, prepared foods, sausages both raw and cooked, and various gifts and trinkets. Interestingly, if you look at Google Maps satellite view of Freiburg, you can see the tents clearly. I had the best bratwurst I have ever had in that market: grilled, in a crusty round roll that left the sausage protruding on each side, topped with grilled onions and a generous serving of mustard. It went a long way towards restoring me. I also had the chance to climb the Münster tower, which (as is usually the case) afforded stunning views of the city and of the lacy stone structure of the Münster itself (which apparently helped it survive the war by diffusing the shockwaves generated by exploding bombs.

After a day of exploration and gift-buying, I headed back for some chill time at the hostel, where I spent an amusing hour or two reading and watching Scott lose at ping-pong. We made some friends among our fellow international travelers as well, which is how we ended up drinking half-liter mugs of beer later that night with Owen (an American just back from Mongolia), Katie (another American headed on to France the next day), Simon (an Australian who had just returned from my own native New Hampshire), and Nicholas (who was from Uruguay). I tasted absinthe for the first time that night, and though I don’t remember for the life of me what it tasted like, ended up buying some later as a souvenir.

Observation for the day: Really, Australians are everywhere. Also, Germans hate cold drinks.

DAY 7
SUNDAY

The day dawned hot as we set off towards the Freiburg Hauptbahnhof to set off towards Heidelberg. Unfortunately, upon our arrival at our pension at around 1:00 pm (and after a fairly long schlep to get there), we found that not only could we not check in until 5 pm, there was no one at the pension office who could even let us in to the building, much less store our bags while we wandered around. Feeling disheartened, hot, and disinclined to lug our baggage around with us for four hours (except for Justin, who climbs mountains for recreation), we sat down to lunch and snapped at each other. Eventually, we set off to find a museum with a bag check, but mirabile dictu, we came upon a movie theater a block away which was showing the original English version of the newest Harry Potter movie in only a few minutes. Moments later, we and our bags were ensconced in the flickering dark of the air-conditioned theater, our spirits considerably raised.

On finally checking into our digs, we set off to explore the schloss, which looms over the town like a broken-winged vulture, but considerably prettier. Turns out that once you’ve showered, eaten, and the sun has started to go down on a 90 degree day, Heidelberg’s a nice town to walk around, especially with about a mile of pedestrian-only street to stroll down at your leisure. We spent the rest of the evening strolling the Hauptstraße, and I made an extremely expensive international phone call to Sheryl before heading back to bed.

Observation for the day: I didn’t even know that they showed English movies in Europe, but I guess it makes sense. Of course, it could have been a documentary on sawmills, and watching it still would have been bliss.

DAY 8
MONDAY

As it seems that all the museums in Heidelberg are closed on Mondays, we spent the day on another long meander, interspersed with long periods of sitting in a University courtyard reading (I was reading Ovid’s Metamorphoses, Scott read Alan Moore’s Watchmen, and Justin read some book about a guy getting eaten by bears). Justin and I took some time out to look at some really very interesting churches, many of which had had their ornamentation stripped out during the Reformation when they were converted to Protestant places of worship, and later replaced as it accumulated historical interest.

As the afternoon waned, we collected our bags and once again headed to the train, this time on the final leg of our journey, as we would fly home out of Frankfurt the next morning.

The relatively drab and uniform DJH hostel in Frankfurt was a bit of a letdown after the colorful accomodations we’d become used to in the other cities we stayed in, but it was serving mostly as a place to collapse for a few hours before catching a plane the next day (except for Scott, who went out with a miscellaneous group who then proceeded to roister throughout the hostel for the rest of the night on their return). I slept and tried to remember what air conditioning and cold water felt like.

Observation for the day: When was the last time I spent a day reading in a park? That was great.

DAY 9
TUESDAY

Got up in the morning, went to the airport, sat for a long time, and flew home. Great to be back in a place where I can read the street signs again.

Observation for the day: There’s a certain low-level anxiety associated with being in a place where you don’t speak the language and can’t read the signs. I felt a weird but palpable sense of relief when I arrived in Heathrow, surrounded by English, and that feeling intensified when I got back to the States.