An Abelian Grape

This is the age of miracle and wonder...

2007-04-25T04:11:00.000-07:00

Holy crap. The ESO just released findings of an earthlike planet. Only 20 lightyears way. This is ridiculous.

The first extra-solar planet was confirmed in 1992. That's just 15 years ago. In a decade and a half, we've gone from no knowledge whatsoever about the existence of these things, to being able to say that this new planet is in the right orbital zone to allow liquid water.

I mean, damn.

Big Numbers

2007-01-01T12:13:00.000-08:00

So just in case you ever wondered if we really needed names for all those huge numbers like a quadrillion or a sextillion, consider the Hungarian pengoe. Hyperinflation after World War II was so bad that 100 quintillion pengoe bills were produced. That is 10²⁰, or a hundred million billion. Damn. Now aren't you glad we have a word for that number?

Happy New Year, all ya'll.

Pictures

2006-12-21T12:45:00.000-08:00

Pictures from Granada

Spanish songs in Andalucia...

2006-12-19T12:36:00.000-08:00

Last week I took a trip to Granada with Victor. It was awesome. You know you've been in England too long when you say things like "It can't be five, the sun's still out!"

This was my second trip to Spain, and was very different from the first, but just as good. Whereas before I was in Barcelona, de facto capital of the northern region of Catalonia, now I was down near the southern coast. The moorish influence was definitely visible, even beyond the Alhambra towering over the city. Most restaurants served, for example, couscous, and the population was much darker-hued than other parts of Spain.

The Alhambra was unbelievable. Not only is it a massive freaking fort, impressive in and of itself, it also houses several ornate palaces, most fairly well preserved. There'll be pictures up later, but for now I'll just say dayum.

Also, props to random old ladies who put up with my shit-awful Spanish and help me figure out how to get to airports. Seriously, they rock.

A few random notes (some Spanish, some not):

There's apparently a major market in Granada for bootleg CDs. Or so I must infer from all the guys trying to sell them to me when I'm in a cafe.

It's so much better to convert from pounds to euros than dollars to euros.

Airports should not remind me architecturally of CostCo.

Heated lube is a bad idea.

Some random points...

2006-12-11T13:24:00.000-08:00

You don't appreciate twenty-four hour stores until you don't have any.

It's amazing the things people'll write on a math test. Especially when they know they've gone horribly wrong. Corrolary: five hours of grading is more tiring than you'd think.

It's surprisingly easy to become someone's hookup/middleman.

Double beds are an underappreciated luxury.

Life just works out sometimes...

How 'bout them Yankees...

2006-12-06T12:46:00.001-08:00

So after grumbling and groaning, I've decided to start this thing here back up. Watch this space. Or don't. Either way.

So This is the New Year...

2006-01-04T05:50:00.000-08:00

...I don't feel any different.

That's a lie; actually, but it's a good song.

I'm the luckiest person alive. It's easy to forget that when I lose my passport (since found) or have to sleep in a French halfway house. But really, I'm getting to travel around Europe, and see cool stuff, and meet random Frenchmen who speak English (Hi Roman!), and in general have adventures. And then I get to go to Oxford, unless I fuck up real good between now and October.

Fuckin nuts.

New pictures, random mess.

Happy New Year, Merry Christmas, etc.

Priorities

2005-12-14T13:06:00.000-08:00

Among the set of possible questions you would expect to be asked post-intimate relations, is the element "You don't have homework [due tomorrow], do you?" included? If so, then congratulations! Or condolences, maybe. You are ready to become a math major. Unlike me, apparently.

So apparently this whole Marshall scholar thing comes with benefits. Since I'm going to math bio at Oxford, I figure I should have some bio. I emailed a bio prof, asking if I can get into one of his (full) classes (even if I'm lacking prereqs). First email I get back is a standard, "We have no space, but I'll put you on the list." Today, without any further response from me, I get another email from him telling me that I'm at the top of the list, how great mathematical modeling is, and how I'm welcome to sit in. I wonder if I'll be able to use my newfound powers for good, and resist the urge for personal benefit...

When in Rome...

2005-11-28T08:01:00.000-08:00

First up: New pictures! Dublin is slightly skimpy, and for that I apologize.

Rome was awesome, despite the fact that our hostel fell through, or perhaps because. I ended up sleeping in a chair in Tom's buddy's apartment for three nights. The fourth night I had a couch. I did absolutely nothing for two days, which is something that needs to be done more often. I also spoke to some Japanese tourists... in Spanish. Good, random fun.

No Rhodes. C'est la vie. I'm going to Oxford anyway.

Now to catch up with homework, since I missed... oh, most of November.

Oxford Town, Oxford Town

2005-11-09T08:43:00.000-08:00

I'm going to Oxford. I have a Marshall scholarship.

Cool.

And I just found out...

2005-11-07T15:35:00.000-08:00

...I have a Rhodes interview. Cool.

Paris, Slovenia, Houston

2005-11-07T14:00:00.000-08:00

Yo-

So this has been neglected lately. I would apologize, but I'm not going to.

Slovenia is gorgeous. Really really gorgeous. Also, my uncle rocks. He basically drove me all over the country, gave me food, and then, the day I was about to leave, decided I needed clothes. So he drives me to the Italian border, and buys me a coat, and shoes, and jeans, and a shirt. I think he spent more'n $500 on me.

Also, my uncle's brother Marian was with us for some part of this. Marian does not speak much English, but he speaks some (note, some, not alot) Spanish. So most of the time, he'd be sitting in the back of the car, mumbling to himself in Slovenian, and then all of a sudden he'd break into narration in Spanish: "En el ano mil ochociento ochenta y tres, este edificio fue..." What was even better was when he tried to tell jokes. Most of these had apparently been learned in Serbia, and were now being told by a Slovenian in broken Spanish to an American. Needless to say, the punchlines didn't necessarily translate so well.

People on trains are awesome. On the way there, I sat in a compartment with this Hungarian lady on her way to Zagreb, who offered me candy and a sandwich. Remembering what my mother taught me about candy from strangers (always say "thank you"), I thus was fed on my trip there. On the way back, I rode half the trip with this Slovenian who spoke English, and with whom I discussed music, and concerts he'd been to back in the seventies, and the lack of trust granted with him by his third wife, and other fun stuff.

Paris was cool, but the trip was kind of a nightmare. It's partly my fault: I was *cough* led astray in the airport before leaving, and ended up drinking more tequila than was good. I don't remember any of the flight until about twenty minutes before landing, but apparently I was "very nervous and afraid of flying." The next day, I was nice and hungover all the way through the Eiffel Tower (still cool) and Notre Dame. We had to leave early morning November 1st: Flight left at 9:45, so we planned to leave the hostel at 6:00. I get up at 5:00 to finish packing and shower--oops, we've lost someone. Come 6:15, he's not there. We leave his stuff at the front desk, wish him luck, and take off. As we're standing in line to board the plane, there's a pounding on the window to the security line: Hey look, it's Mike. I'm actually really impressed that he managed to get the airport on time, and find the terminal, and get his boarding pass.

So I'm in Houston now, and get to talk to some folks tomorrow about the rest of my life, and how they should give me money. Just a little bit nervous.

Just another Wednesday Night...

2005-10-12T14:27:00.000-07:00

I feel last night deserves a post, and it must start from the beginning. Fair warning: This post will throw around names as if you know them. Sorry, it seems necessary.

That beginning is around 3:00, when classes ended for most everyone. At that point, it was decided among the folks I've been hanging out with that dinner would be around 5:00 at "The Mediterranean Place," also known as Pita House (The Restaurant's actual name.). This would be followed by a meeting with other folks at 6:30, in hopes of going to see the Hungary/Croatia soccer match. Since I live in approximately the same direction as Kat and Joy, I rode the same Metro train as them. Once arriving at my tram stop, which is where their apartment happens to be, I decided that instead of killing an hour in transportation, and going home to do homework, I would tag along with them to the mall. With great glee, they decided that this meant they should try and find sweaters for me. (My current sweaters meet with disapproval, for a variety of reasons.) Unfortunately, or not, every clothing store in the mall met with even more disapproval.

We thus adjourned to nearby Mediterranean Place, and there discovered two things: First, that Young Guy had not quit or been fired (There are several employees of Mediterranean Place, the two best being Old Guy and Young Guy, followed closely by Short Fat Guy.), and that the yellow rice was edible. These were both exciting.

After eating, we arrived at the meeting place for the soccer folks approximately half an hour early. Joy and Kat decided that I should play a game of chess with one of the random Hungarian old guys sitting around. Since I am entirely unable to resist taunting, I went up to one of the random Hungarian old guys. The moment I sat down and he said "Penz?" (Money?) I knew I was going to lose. However, my enquiry of "Mennyi?" (How much?) was answered with "Ket[szaz]," (Two-hundred forints, about a dollar.), meaning I was willing to do it just to not back down. I lasted a full ten minutes before I was forced to resign, and I can now say I lost a dollar playing chess to a random Hungarian old guy. While I was playing, other folks started to arrive, and soon old guy had a new challenger, James. James did much better than I did, lasting more than twenty minutes.

So now it was time to head to the soccer game. Keep in mind that there are now twenty-four people in this group. It quickly transpired that no one knew exactly where the soccer game was to take place, but the best guess was that it was at the Nepstadion, which was at the metro stop one away from the meeting place, appropriately named Stadionok (stadiums).

We took the metro that one stop, and quickly split into two groups, neither of which knew where the other one was. After reuniting, we set off in search of the stadium. Note that at this point, no one knew the name of the stadium, how much tickets were, if indeed tickets could be purchased, or in fact anything other than that the game started at 7:30, and it was now 6:45. So we set off in the direction of stadiums. For some reason, we decided to go against the flow of people coming away from stadiums, and head towards dark things. At some point, someone asked Random Hungarian where the game was. They pointed in a direction. We headed in that direction. We arrived at a track. There were people dressed as if for tae-kwon-do running laps. There were also odd statues in the center of the track. Eventually, people were convinced that crossing the track would be bad.

It was at this point that Elizabeth, who speaks no Hungarian, decided she should pound on the door of a nearby van, and ask where the game was. Apparently (I remain unsure about this) he pointed in a direction. People traveled in that direction, and arrived at a stadium. Someone ran up the steps, looked down in the stadium, and reported that it was, quote, "Black and empty." We now turned around and started walking back to the road. Upon encountering Old Hungarian Ladies, Matt decided to ask them (in Hungarian) where the game was. They responded with "Nem tudom," ("I don't know.") His response? To ask again. Their response? The same.

Eventually, we made it back to the street. There we encountered Croatians, who also did not know where the game was. At this point, for those keeping track at home, there are 24 American Students (including Sketchy Patrick, who deserves a post of his own someday), 6 Croatians, no directions, no clue, and the game starting in 15 minutes. Some people call some other people who can't help, and eventually it's decided that the game must be at the stadium in the People's Park, which is south.

So, some people go for Metro, some for Tram. I'm chilling at the tram stop when there's a phone call: Finally, someone has figured out where the game is: It's an hour north of where we are. Keep in mind two things: The game has now started, and we were going to go south.

We give up on attending the game. New plan: Find a sports bar and watch on TV. It transpires that no one knows where a sports bar is. So it's decided that we will go to Szoda Bar, where the boyfriend of the assistant type person for the program apparently sometimes DJs. We get to Szoda Bar, only to find that it is closed. However, Szoda Bar is right next to Szimpla Bar, where we were taken on the first night of language school by one of the Hungarian tour guides (who was then loaded with alcohol by generous American students). So we go inside. There's a minor hassle when the bouncer yells at Karen, but I figure out that he wants her to leave her water bottle outside, so it's all good. We go inside and play Asshole for an hour and a half, after which I go home and do homework. All in all, a most satisfactory night.

Oh, and apparently Northwestern Law School is waiving my admission fee. Which is cool, but I have neither applied, nor taken the LSATs, nor in fact contacted them in any way. I'm pleased but confused.

Tired...

2005-10-05T14:48:00.000-07:00

Wow. Three weeks into math classes. Five math classes in a semester kinda sucks. Fun, but sucky fun. Given that the quality of math classes at Oxy is roughly nil, though, this is what needs to happen if I want to go to a halfway decent grad school. What I find really amusing, though, is when my Combinatorics professor starts doing problems from the Graph Theory homework in class, and vice versa. Nothing like getting teachers to give you the answers.

Really sucky: The only class I'm taking here that fulfills an absolutely necessary graduation requirement may get cancelled. Then there would be paperwork. And begging. And more paperwork. I really hope it doesn't happen.

Plus side: I'm going to Dublin in a month! And Paris before that! And Estonia! And Rome! Woo!

Suckier still: I suspect I fucked up my Rhodes application, in the stupidest way possible. Fuck.

Back from Prague/Start of Math Classes

2005-09-15T06:31:00.000-07:00

I'm back from Prague. Prague is awesome. You should go. Pictures are now available here.

Classes started Monday. All in all, looks pretty good, although there is one worrying thing: There are two sections of Number Theory, taught by different instructors. To show us the teaching style of both, they essentially switched sections halfway through. The problem? If we call the two instructors A and B, I have spoken to one person out of thirtyish who preferred B. Everyone else preferred A. I've heard rumors there'll be knife-fights for chairs.

Random note: Potatoes are cheap. Bought a five kilo bag for around a dollar last night.

Random Stuff

2005-09-05T13:21:00.000-07:00

Can't say this enough: Working public transit rocks my world. And being able to pay 30 bucks for unlimited access to said public transit for a month? Undescribably awesome. It's like I have this magic card that lets me fly all over the city.

It's amazing how much of a boost you get from really random things, like
drunken facebook posts, or bizarre phone calls from home.

Today we learned the past tense, so I can finally say the most important phrase in any langauge*, in Hungarian: "Hat, anyad basztam mult ejszaka," give or take a few accents.

Tonight, as my weekly exercise in futility, I tried making tortillas. Technically, it wasn't an unmitigated disaster, but it was pretty close. Fortunately, I was able to once again prove that with enough sour cream, anything is edible.

Tomorrow: Prague! Woo! Random Hungarian dialogue plays! Not so much woo!

* "So, I was fucking your mom last night..."

The Final Proof That I'm a Math Geek

2005-09-04T11:33:00.000-07:00

...as if any were needed.

Friday night is poker night, as established by long-standing (read: has happened twice) tradition. This past Friday night, after getting reasonably drunk and being out past tram closing time, I chose to crash at a friend's apartment. What did I choose for reading material?

Contemporary Abstract Algebra, Fifth Edition, by Robert Gallian.

Not only that, but the following morning, after waking up an hour or so before my gracious hosts, I chose to continue where I left off. At eight in the morning.

It would be sad if it weren't so funny. Or vice versa.

The Hungarian Language; or, the Three of the Seven Words You Can't Say On Television

2005-09-02T07:15:00.000-07:00

A brief primer on Hungarian swearwords:
(Those of a delicate disposition might wish to skip this)

Baszik: He/she/it fucks.
Baszom: I fuck.
Baszol: You fuck.
Basznak: They fuck.
Megbasz: Fuck off.

Kurva: Whore
Kurva Anyad: Your mother's a whore.

Unfortunately, I've forgotten how to say shit.

In other news, I'm going to Prague next week. Woohoo!

Pictures

2005-08-29T09:40:00.000-07:00

Here's some random pictures from the past week and a half. Captions and more pictures might come later, but I'm coming down with a cold, so I'm going to crash early tonight.

First Post / First Week

2005-08-27T14:37:00.000-07:00

Well, here goes nothing. I figure that instead of trying to keep everybody updated individually and inevitably failing, it'd be easier to just do this. So, a brief run down of the past week and a half:

My plane was an hour late arriving. This meant I didn't get to the airport until 12:30 AM, and didn't clear customs until close to one. At this point, I was near panicking, since I figured that whoever had been going to pick me up had long since gone home, and I would have to try and find a hotel at night in another country where I don't speak the language. Not fun. But less than a minute after getting past security, I spotted Lengyel. I was indescribably relieved at that, to say the least.

So: loaded up into the car. Drove into the city. Understood that drivers were crazy people. Zoned out for a while. When I returned to planet Earth, the first thing I see is a big pink rotating sign, with "Szex Bolt" on one side and "Sex Shop" on the other. Ah, Europe. Found BSM student advisor, found landlord, found house, found bed.

Thursday: wandered around Pest and Buda by myself, got lost twice, got yelled at by scary men with dog, finally got home.

Friday: wandered around Buda and Pest with Lengyel, did not get lost or yelled at.

Saturday: wandered around Szent Istvan celebrations. Marvelled at Jimi Hendrix cover band, kiddie train, and air show. Got food poisoning. Saw fireworks.

Sunday: slept.

Monday: Started language school. Let me just make one thing clear: Hungarian is hard. There are fourteen vowels. Fourteen. One-four. Can I hear fourteen vowels? No. Can I say fourteen vowels? Hell no. On the plus side, there are only three and a half tenses. Take that, future imperfect!

Generally speaking, math students are living up to stereotypes. More on that later, but suffice it to say expectations are being met.

Tonight was the "Love Parade," which was followed by massive parties. Never have I seen so few clothes and so much bodypaint. Or rather, so little bodypaint.

More later. Until then, Sziastok!