Damnation... eternal... the end of the Dundee Expat

My world has begun to crumble where I stand, the fabric of my reality ripping at their seams. This is the end. The three year adventure across the globe has come to it's peak, and I find myself surrounded by death, oblivion and torture. I am damned, truly.

On a happier note, I'm excited to report that I'm starting a new adventure. I've been pondering what to do with my life since Shanghai last year. What is the next version of my life? Well, I've finally formed a new plan for myself, although of course I haven't got the exact details figured out yet. Sure, it will be a year of visio/ms project rather than word or excel. And there will be more frequenting of exclusive clubs than first class continental travels. More hiking than sky-diving. More Italian food than Chinese or Thai food. But those are tangential hooks, rather than details. I don't know yet exactly how my new life will look, but at least now I have a firm vision- a dream to carry me there.

Another big change will be this blog. First of all, from now on I will only report negative events in my life. Second, I will announce well in advance any major changes in my life. Third, less cryptic writing, and instead posts that explain exactly what is going on in my life. Starting with this post.

I'm a man part IV

The strange places we find ourselves in sometimes... Imagine my surprise to find myself hurtling myself out of a very small plane at 13,000 feet (just under 4 km) with an old man attached to my back.

That's pretty much what's going through my head in this picture.





A most unusual feeling.





UPDATE: A couple of pics from the preparation

"Please waive all your rights"


"people who intend to jump out of a plane"


"warning- parachute landing area"


"I look friggin' good in a yellow jumpsuit"

The Boots of Eternal Damnation

Well, ok, so I know this is a phase. But it is an extremely pleasant phase. I haven't been shopping for clothes for maybe six months. Last time I went shopping I bought some highly controversial shirts that only fitted my mood for maybe one month. If you look through my pics on this website or in the web albums, (http://picasaweb.google.com/DundeeExpat) you'll notice that mostly, I've been wearing the same bloody black sweater + jeans for almost two years now. They hit a nice peak a couple of months ago when their agedness kind of looked intentional and that went really well with white shoes and belt. But they're even past that now. I think today was the last time I wore them. Poor bastards.

I've been shopping again (added black party shirt to my new shirt collection). I was really looking for white shoes (the shoes to end all shoes) but instead encountered the Boots of Eternal Damnation (in a good way).
Now I'm not sure what to do. They are a little bit on the expensive side, so I'm not going to be able to buy these and the shoes to end all shoes. Which is a problem- they are boots. And they are black. First of all, I usually live in hot hot hot places. Boots in the summer? Maybe- if it's evening and I'm going bar-hopping or clubbing. I'm thinking I'll buy some sexy sandals anyway when that becomes appropriate. And secondly, they're black. Wouldn't it be nice with a pair of brown or white shoes to get some variety in my life? Why does everything have to be black?

Well, on the other side. Where are the shoes to end all shoes? I did find some really nice white shoes with strong tones of creamy brown. They were beautiful, but I'm a bit suspicious of anything too beautiful. I've still got bad memories from wearing my controversial shirts. They were beautiful, but pretty much the entire world has been united in condemning them. Great when you are feeling "fuck you, world!", less great when you don't. So I've clearly got bad taste on the more extravagant side. The Boots of Eternal damnation are not extravagant. They are Damned, and anyone who sees them will be Damned. No risk there at all. But wont they be a bit hot in the summer?

Knowing when to stop

Today was one of those days when it seemed that all life was nothing but a pair of mismatched jeans. To begin with, I'm ashamed at myself- and this is a rare state of mind for me. I have a hangover, a bad one, with an aching head and stiff joints.
The one glass of wine to many had signaled itself unmistakably. It was no different from the three preceding ones, but it had gone down reluctantly and with an ugly sensation of surfeit. And even though I had taken in the message, I decided to wash it down with a glass of Hoegaarden.

I've been trying to get my head around my work today (thank god for paper-work days, a car chase today would have been lethal!) with very little success. I even resent seeing my sullen hands on top of my keyboard. Stupid, blunt little bastards!

I deserve this glas of red wine

I had a deadline on Tuesday.
On Monday, after buying my white shirt to end all shirts, I sat down (in my new shirt) and decided not to stand up until I had written the most amazing report ever produced. That was at 9pm, and I didn't stand up again until 10am Tuesday morning. And with this, I officially reached the point where I established the platform for my v3 life. It was marked by the very deliverable I spent Tuesday night writing.

I had barely enough energy to go and buy two more shirts (nice shirts, but not as nice as the one I bought on Monday). I came back at lunch, fell asleep at 2pm and slept right through until 7.30am Wednesday. That's today. And I worked so nice today, i worked and worked and worked and didn't get back home until 9pm.

And you know what. The glass of red whine I am having right now is the best tasting red wine EVER had. There's something about deserving pleasure that makes it quite special.

P.S. Did I mention that I'm sitting in my favourite SF bar? I like working in cafes and bars. It makes me feel glamorous.
The reason I'm adding this P.S. is that the woman in front of me just told some man "I like you but I'm not in love with you. There is no future for us." I really like working in bars. Lot's of drama.

P.S.S. Oh... she was telling the man what some other man had told her. Less interesting. Move along, move along.

The suit to end all suits

Today I learned many things. I learned what a difference it makes to have 100 thread count in your shirts (I'm never going back). I learned that slim ties go with slim fitted suits (Doh!). I learned that the arm sleeves on my suit are too long (Doh! x2). I already knew that white is the mana of style- today I had it re-affirmed.

I also learned to be humble and to accept my place in the universe. Because today I encountered the suit to end all suit. Clearly from the same jungian unconsciousness that dreamed up the belt to end all belts, and the shoes to end all shoes. A strong shoulder line, three buttons and a very subtle creamy brown thread running between slightly more pronounced white threads in the rich dark grey fabric.

It is good to be reminded now and then just how far you have to go. Greed, vanity, desire- these are useful psychological fuels when rage and love run out.

$3800 Armani suit- one day you will be mine.

UPDATE!
Never mind the suit. I have found the shirt to end all shirts! I have never felt as dashingly handsome as I do in the shirt I bought today. Yes, it's white and it has thread count of 100. But I think there's something else about it, the cut. I don't have the understanding to explain why it's so good, but I know that I will go back tomorrow to the same shop and by at least three more. Question is- what is the ideal setup in terms of colours? After tonight the natural male instinct tells me to get three more white ones. But I know I need to fight that instinct. Maybe just one more white. And then maybe one more solid, I'm thinking solid pink. That's kind of controversial right? Then a stripey one with a purple undertone. What do you think, dear readers. If a man can only have four shirts (remember my life is limited to what can be fit in a 20kg suitcase), which colours should he go for? Should I even get one more white? Leave suggestions and know you have helped a man make one significant step towards happiness!

UPDATE #2, Wednesday 21 February
After all these fantastic tips from friends and family, I went back to the shop that stock the shirts to end all shirts. I asked whether they had a white in the same cut but with a slightly different pattern. I tried a few and found (one solid, one with alternate arrows up and down, one with waves) that none looked as fantastic as the one I had already bought.
"Why is that?" I asked, and the woman who was assisting me explained that the white shirt I was wearing had twirls, which made the fabric thicker without actually using thicker thread.
So, I decided twirls is the way to go. I couldn't bring myself to buying another pair of exactly the same shirt, so I found two nice colours, light blue and light salmon pink, tried them on and found that they fit me just as well as the white one. But something was still missing. Whereas white made me want to lock the door and spend an hour and do naughty things to myself while looking at myself in that magical white shirt, the blue and pink just made me feel... i don't know... like I was wearing a nice shirt and that was that. I ended up buying both shirts, since I had gone into that shop with the intention to buy at least two more shirts.

Well, I've learned two things.
One: shop with your heart, not your head. I over-analyzed the whole situation before going in there and made a logical decision to get more shirts from the same shop. I ended up coming out with two shirts that didn't make me feel special at all.
Two: my magical shirt, it's not one thing that makes it great. It's not that it's white, the twirls, the fit or the 100 thread count. It's the combination.

It makes me remember something a good friend of mine said when I agreed that a shirt she was trying on looked good.
"I don't want good. I want beautiful."

I'm going to go back and get myself another white shirt- EXACTLY like the one I have now.

P.S. I wore my blue shirt today to work. I looked good. I looked frigging good. Good ain't that bad ;-)

P.S.S. I've changed the tag of this post from desire to passion. I think that's more appropriate somehow.

I want to become a photographer when I grow up

I've recently learned about a technique for making photos resemble more closely what we experience when looking at a scene. The thing is, when we look at something, we don't work like a camera at all. Rather, our mind builds up a picture of the scene over time, taking multiple snapshots and creating a composite. When we take a picture with a camera, we are left with only one picture that appears flat when we look at it back home.

So there's this technique called HDR where you take multiple pictures at different levels of light and then merge the pics to create a uniform level of light. The pictures take on a magical, unreal quality, yet come closer to how you actually experienced the scene.

Well, the photographer that brought this technique to my attention is visiting Iceland right now. Check out his photos as they come up. They are truly mind-blowing. Click on the "large on black" link to see the photos in their full size glory.

Apparently, you can take these kind of photos with any camera and some free software. However, you need a tripod, because you need to take multiple pictures from a single point, otherwise I guess they get really blurry when you combine them.

So, I now have a new ambition: to become a serious photographer. Of course, there's a big distance to cover. I don't even know what makes a good photographer- why do I like some pictures and not others? But every journey starts with a dream.

UPDATE:
wow, my photographer role-model is working hard in Iceland, he's added lot's of cool photos.
Check out:

• hallgrimskyrkja
• geysir
• sulphur pools

I mean... wow. If you don't want to visit Iceland by now there's something wrong with you

Cocktail lessons with urban diversion

What do you do in San Francisco? Well, if you are the Dundee Expat you sign up for cocktail mixing lessons. Nevermind that I believe that this kind of activity is a sign of imminent death...

So the idea was that a bunch of people from Urban Diversion would get a bar to ourselves, get some pointers from a bartender/bar-owner.




After downing a good number of his demonstrations we were allowed behind the bar to try out some moves of our own.



As any night that starts with a cocktail mixing lesson will eventually do, this one ended up less focused on mixing and more focused on drinking.




These are the pretty pictures. I found myself grooving until early morning next day, but what happens in San Francisco after 2am stays in San Francisco after 2am.

Mad japanese man inside my computer

There's a crazy japanese dude that comes out and tries to take my cursor all the time.
He lives here.

He really wants that cursor.

Superbowl, the ultimate experience

I watched the Superbowl today. The Superbowl is the finale of the biggest American Football cup and this year it was between Indianapolis and Chicago. While the game was quite exciting once I figured out the basic rules, what really captured me was the all-out craze surrounding the game. I think this is one of the most watched events on TV, so the commercial breaks are the most expensive you can get. To get the maximum bang for the buck, the advertisers try to out-do each other with cleverness and funnyness, and the whole showbiz side of the game is an important part of pop culture. I thought Coke had some excellent, funny ads, with one that poked fun at the excellent Grand Theft Auto games. I kind of wished there was a computer game based on the premise they showed in the ad, even if it was just a joke. Check 'em out:
The "cocal cola computer game" ad, and the "how they make coca cola" ad.

While watching all this and enjoying some of the excitement around all this, I experienced something of a revelation about branding, about the power of media properties, about the post-modern mind. I can't put my finger on it, but now that the game is over and I've relaxed a little, it puts some of what is going on in Asia right now into perspective. Here in the West, we are chasing the ultimate, perfect experience. In the East, they are pulling hundreds of millions of people out of poverty, re-building civilizations after hundreds of years of oppression, and winning against death, starvation and catastrophe.

Umm... it's tempting to think one is better or more useful than the other. More wise to accept both are on the same axis of the same story (upwards). Even more wise to accept that I don't fully understand the significance of all this and just keep on experiencing. Good idea to come here to the US, it's already starting to mess with my head.

P.S. I'm going to go downstairs and buy a coke.
P.S.S. I just bought a bottle. Unfortunately they didn't have the glass bottle, only the plastic one. Damn, I just can't relate to plastic in the same way, it has gotta be glass :0(

Meetup.com in San Francisco

Today I joined a members club called Urban Diversions here in San Francisco who I found through meetup.com . On the way to their clubhouse, I just had to snap this one.



Meetup.com is a really exciting idea of a website that essentially helps people set up societies, parties, evening talks, networking sessions, debate groups whatever. I checked it out, tried to search for "new in san francisco" and I discovered Urban Diversions. This is a members club that organizes adventures and laid back parties. I can't help but compare these guys with shanghaiExpat.com (see previous post). The difference I suppose is that ShanghaiExpat tried to pay for itself by targeting members with ads and extra services, whereas Urban Diversions charges a membership fee.

It's going to be interesting to see how this works out. The idea is great, and they do organize a fair amount of zany stuff. For instance, next friday they are organizing a bartender school. Great, never having worked as a bartender is a black mark in my street-cred book.
The only worry of course is that I'll be too busy to actually join in anything and that membership fee was thrown in the sea. Well, you don't know unless you try.

This is me in the clubhouse.



Oh, the same evening I joined Urban Diversions, it just so happened that Mr. Oakenfold was playing just around the corner from me. This man is a god among men. Well, actually I am not sure about that but he does have a very agreeable taste in music.
I have slightly mixed feelings about this evening. On the one hand I had a great time, met some interesting people and felt all the younger for it. On the other hand I had a terrible hang over on a thursday morning (their double vodkas are more like quadruple vodkas!).

I also ended up with no money on my credit card. Instead of charging me $50, ticketweb.com (they suck) charged me $500, which put my card out of use for a day. Although it's been rectified now, I really hate it when my financial security breaks down. At least this time it wasn't my fault. Yay!

This is Mr Oakenfold.

San Francisco is a lot about architecture. And hills.

It didn't strike me immediately that San Francisco has some seriously amazing architecture. Partly, this is because I've been used to checking the more futuristic side of the art in cities like Hong Kong, Shanghai and Dubai. San Francisco is more of a historic architecture, more frilly. Partly, it's also because I first visited San Francisco about three years ago before I went and checked out all those skyscrapers, so somehow my mind is stuck in a "seen it before, too busy now" mode. Anyways, I've had a few opportunities to stroll through my neighbourhood down through Chinatown and into the Financial district. It's really pleasant to walk among such beautiful buildings.


When you walk through some of the higher streets, you are greeted with these vast vistas at every cross section. It's simply awesome.



While there are many spectacularly beautiful buildings, the thing that's starting to sink in is how almost every building (at least around here where I live) they go just that extra little mile, with details on corners and edges that reward you for looking up instead of down.

Franciscan life

Yay! Today I moved into my new home! I am now officially living in San Francisco. I'm even sorted out with local phone numbers etc.



I'm strangely comfortable with the style of this studio, even though it's neither modern nor classy. It has got something to do with the house. It's an old hotel that has been redone into studios. The hallways and lift are extremely old, but it's all old in a really nice, unique kind of way. Not old ugly, but old dreamy. It feels like an alternate dimension, some fifty or hundred years ago. Not to mention the staff who are just so charming it almost freaks me out.

so- the dundee expat is happy and properly installed in the city of franciscus. all is well in the world

UPDATE: I'm getting SOOOOOOOOO tired of blogger. Now all the recent photos I've put up have disappeared. Why do I bother?

Not planning didn't get me very far

I started the day with a really nice American breakfast (Steak and eggs $8) in an American themed restaurant. Having a breakfast steak is possibly the best thing about American and one of the leading reasons I am here.



I then moved into this nice little studio smack in the center, about 5 minutes from Union Square. While certainly not a five star hotel, it appeared to have everything a deep-undercover-spy needs to set himself up for a month or so.



I was quite excited about living in San Francisco. Much of the place looks a bit like this.





However, having installed myself, unpacked my life (now coming in a compact 20kg- yes!) and stretched out in the lack of space provided I realized that what I mean by Internet access and what Halcyon hotel means by Internet access are two different things. For me, the internet is either a DSL connection or a fast wireless connection in the room. Halcyon things this means a phone plug (they refer to this as a "dataport" because with a dial up modem you can send data down the phone line. imagine that...) and free wireless offered at a cafe a couple of minutes walk away.

So I decided to tell them to go screw themselves, took a taxi over to a proper hotel and then started doing some serious hunting. Amazingly, using Google i was able to identify a couple of options, and after spending a couple of hours looking at studios I sat down at Tully's Cafe to have a think.



Tully's offer some strange ancient herbal tea that is supposed to energize you in much the same way that coffee does, but in a much healthier and smoother way. I think it acts on a different circuitry in your brain. Naturally, I asked them to put a double espresso in there too. I'm not going to take any chances when my future home is at stake!

Did I mention I'm in Las Vegas?

I'm in a city full of casinos. I took a picture of the Las Vegas on the way to Grand Canyon. That's "the strip" on the left.




Casino's come in all kinds and shapes.






Casinos are full of slot machines and tables where you can play cards or dice or roulette.


I have an addictive obsessive personality. I decided to hold onto my cash and get the hell out of here before it's too late.

Lack of planning

Tomorrow, I am engaging in one of my most important campaigns so far. I'm going deep inside the technological society of "Silicon Valley". I need to pose as a high tech engineer from the south having just moved to the "Bay area". At least six weeks, possibly much longer. Only one problem: I have not got a clue what I am doing, and I have nowhere to live. I'm screwed, as usual.

I blame my boss. Six years ago he sent me on a mission into the darker parts of Sweden to uncover secrets inside their industrial military complex. I was 21, ambitious and at the top of my game. But for some reason, my boss made a lot of effort to ensure me: "things will be alright". "Don't worry". "We'll back you up". Maybe I looked nervous, maybe he just thought somebody my age should be nervous. Well, I listened to him. Thinking that everything will be alright, I put off booking my tickets until 5 hours before the flight was due. I didn't check my equipment or go over my mission objectives.

When I six, I tried to steal some candy from a convenience store. The manager caught me and my friend. I've never broken the law since. It's called learning from your failures. Maybe if my mission in Sweden would have gone bad, maybe then I would have learned to plan. Leave enough time to get things sorted in case anything goes wrong.

But the mission was a great success despite me putting in minimum effort ("it's going to be alright" i thought). Since then, I've never planned. Never prepared. And I've been cutting it thinner and thinner. This very moment must be as thin as it can possibly go before it becomes a razor that cuts my wrist. I'm sitting in Las Vegas with a ticket to San Francisco- but no home, no plan, no clue. I'm searching the web for maps, hotel listings, public transport maps, events listings etc. I'm reading about American football on wikipedia and trying to listen to the people around me to pick up accents and slang. Apparently "Silicon Valley" is part of what is known as "South Bay". Mandarin speaking Chinese and Indians tend to live in South Bay. The Cantonese live somewhere else and often go back as far as 5 generations in the US.

Wish me good luck. This is my life, this is what I strive for. A moment of clarity is all I ask for, just a split second when I understand that I might be sleeping on a bench tonight. This is what I call extreme working- an adrenalin rush equal to jumping off a cliff (with a parachute of course).

I'm a man part III (Grand Canyon)

I had the day off today, so I took a trip down into the Grand Canyon.
To save some time I took a helicopter there. Las Vegas looks strange from the air.



On the way we passed the Hoover Dam. Did you know that by building this dam, they created the largest man made lake in the wester hemisphere?


The Grand Canyon really is grand.



I think I look good against a grand backdrop.

My office in Iceland

My older uncle kindly let me work in his office which lies just next to the famous Hafnafjordur harbor. By now I've collected quite an impressive set of "pictures taken from my office window". Maybe I should set up a display at the local gallery.

New Year 2006 Iceland Fireworks

More new years 2006 pics

Me (with wine), Granddad, hidden Svava, house-working Uncle and Svava's GrandmaUncle and nephew.


Either he looks young or I look old.


It's New Years Eve, isn't it?

New year 2006

I spent New Years eve with my younger uncle and Svava, his girlfriend. They invited me, Svava's grandmother and my grandfather to an intimate dinner. The dinner was a culinary piece of art. And uncle looked dashing in his pink shirt.

We managed to tick all the boxes. Listened with one ear to the Presidents annual speech, laughed (or not) at the annual new years comedic review (one of Icelnand's great New Years traditions), plunged ourselves into drunken tupor together with some friends of Svava and then headed out to a fancy New Years party downtown.

But the highlight must have been the 12.00 fireworks. In Iceland, there is no central firework display. Instead, every man and his dog (or cat) competes with their neighbor who has the most expensive, loud, brash display. It makes for an hour of light and thunder that made Reykjavik look like a war scene off CNN. In a nice way.

I have a good feeling about 2007

Bombs, Iceland nightlife

Young Uncle works for a wildly successful Icelandic company (in many ways he is the original Icelandic Expat) and was given a New Years bonus. He decided to spend most of it on a really big bomb. That's what they do in Iceland during new years. They blow stuff up.

The kids were really excited. So was I, but you can't see me in this picture because i'm actually taking it.


Young Uncle decided to show me the wild side of Iceland. We started with a "pre-party". Because booze is so bloody expensive in Iceland, the tradition is to warm up properly before you go out.

Icelandic people are not very warm. At least the ones I know like talking really slow, making considered remarks about the progress of Einar's business and the nature of Nordic competitiveness. The really weird thing was how everybody waited their turn, and even gave a seconds pause between people speaking so that everyone had a chance to think about what had been said. It can take a long time for seven Icelandic men to come to agreement this way.


I was about to gnaw of my left arm at one point, but luckily someone finally took the initiative and led the conversations onto the more heated topics of booze and women. By heated I mean that comments were less thoughtful and the pause between people speaking was reduced to maybe half a second.

We made it outside finally, around 3am. Well, it's was New Year's Eve the day after so the town was understandably less energetic than it could have been. But it was interesting to see how these people jigg and I got a picture of myself on the dancefloor. Mission accomplished.