the part where I lose something...

So I made it through 90% of my vacation without screwing anything up too much (other than visiting Sydney in the midst of its rainiest summer in recent history), but yesterday night I managed to lose my grey, Manhattan Portage messenger bag. Luckily there's nothing irreplacable in the bag, but it did contain my camera, contact lenses, glasses case, and some things I'd borrowed from friends... as well as being a beloved bag.

In the unlikely (but hopeful) event that you, the person who found my bag, had the incredible insight to Google [Akshay Patil] and found this blog post, please know that you can contact me at akshay(a)alum.mit.edu. Thanks.

a brief dispatch

Heading off to the airport with Andrew C. soon to drive on down the Great Ocean Road for a few days. The weather here in Sydney has finally turned for the better -- reasonable stretches of sunniness punctuated by brief rain storms. I even went to the beach yesterday (boogie boarding is fun, currents were surprisingly strong).

I managed to knock off the two "must dos" of Sydney on Wednesday (the only gloriously sunny day we've had here) which were the Taronga Zoo and take a ferry to Manly Beach. I've now managed to not tour the Sydney Opera House twice now, thanks to tickets selling out and me showing up after they closed. Partially due to this, I've spent a fair amount of time wandering my way through most of downtown Sydney and getting a feel for how things are laid out.


Don't have anything much more to say at the moment... I've been keeping notes and maybe I'll write up some posts whilst we're driving (or maybe I'll actually look out the car window).

arrived

Well, I landed in Australia just in time to watch the Patriots lose the Superbowl in a bar full of what I assume were American students spending a term abroad (read: young, kinda annoying, drinking Budweiser, and generally Giants fans).
The other two downers so far are (A) I'm apparently allergic to much of Sydney (apparently a rare condition, judging from the utter lack of allergy medicine in their drugstores) and (B) it's very rainy/foggy here right now. Apparently this is going to last most of this week (ugh) but it's better elsewhere in the country, which I shall be venturing out to next week.

Oh, regarding the flight from SFO to SYD. I indeed had a middle seat and 14 hours is just about as long as I remember it being (I awoke from my one successful nap to find we were still only half-way there). When I bought the tickets, I indicated I'm a vegeterian with the intention of avoiding those mystery meats they serve in air. Well, apparently United decided to lump vegetarians with vegans on my flight (despite them being very distinct entries in their form online) so was served nothing but rice and vegan cookies all flight... so much for optimizing that parameter.

Other updates/learned things:

1. You can get your visiting visa AFTER YOU LAND. How is this a "visa" and not just an enforced visitation tax? Just say: "Australia: A$20 admission; All major credit cards accepted" and stop trying to kid everyone.
2. The non-downtown bits of Sydney look suspiciously like major suburbia in CA. In the cab ride from the airport, I half expected to drive past a Trader Joe's or end up in front of my parent's house.
   
3. "Milk shakes" aren't what you think they are (thanks for the tip Bolin!). You'll be wanting a "Thickshake." I'll probably stop noting terminology differences soon, since I imagine there's a whole wealth of them that you probably don't care about.
   
4. Aussies (at least Sydneyites) put sweet chili sauce on pretty much everything... ranging from nachos to french fries in my limited sampling so far.
   
5. Having an American accent in Sydney feels much less foreign than I was expecting. Maybe that's the jetlag talking. Will have to reassess after I've done a bit more bumbling about.

on my way out back

If it seems like I only blog when I travel, well, yeah. That's about accurate.

I'm in an utterly deserted United Airways terminal (does no one fly United and/or does no one fly on Saturday afternoons?) waiting for my flight to SFO where I'll switch planes and continue on my way to a two week vacation in Australia. Do I know what I'm doing in Australia while there? No. Should I probably have planned something by now? Yeah, probably, what whatcha gonna do about it? Vacations are about escaping responsibility and it turns out that just buying a ticket was almost too much to ask of me in the first place.

To prep myself for the trip, I'm working my way through Bill Bryson's In a Sunburned Country (generously lent to me by Ann V.) which has throughly sold me on two points:

1. Driving through Australia is a great way to commune with the vastness of this indescribably massive country.
2. Australia is full of many wondrous ways to die, one of which I will almost certainly experience first hand.

I mention the last one because Australia really just chalk full of things that will kill you and seeing as I can't go a few weeks in the U.S. without having the hell bit out of me by bugs, I really do feel like I'm risking my life going on this trip. Oh well, there'll be sun (it's rainy season) and surf (full of jellyfish) and I'll be thousands of miles away from work (we have an office in Sydney). Should be fun =).

Things learned today:

1. Do not mention you work for Google to your taxi driver. It turns out that he got a Masters in Computer Science from LIU (doesn't know how to code, but likes networking) and is wondering if you can help get him a job in the industry. He was otherwise very nice and got me to the airport in record time, but he did spend an awful amount of time turned backwards talking to me about his educational experiences and reiterating that he was in the U.S. legally and had a passport (in case I was wondering). He also knows a little bit of the HTML. The one thing the exchange really impressed upon me is how amazing it is that I too got a Masters in CS without doing a lick of programming. It was great at the time, but seems so wrong in hindsight.
2. The Chai latte @ Peet's Coffee is pretty terrible. Never get one.
3. You need a "visa" to go to Australia for pleasure. I didn't realize this (and never checked, so clearly I'm the idiot here) and no one mentioned it to me, until the woman at the ticket counter asked me if I had one. Thankfully they (United Airlines) can issue you one instantaneously (how is this a visa!?) and it cost me $25; if you do it through the sketchy-looking Australian Government website (http://www.eta.immi.gov.au/), it'll cost you AUS$20 ~= US$18.
4. NYC->SFO on a saturday afternoon might be low traffic, but apparently my SFO->SYD flight is booked up and I'm stuck with a middle seat (they refused to issue me a seat when I first bought the ticket. It was.... no comforting). Knock on wood this flight isn't going to be as painful as it sounds like it'll be.
5. You can indeed refill those little travel-sized shampoo bottles with contents from their normal-sized brethren. All it takes is a steady hand and an inordinate amount of patience. Do not try to do this right before you need to head to the airport though, especially if you too suffer from whatever disease causes you to loose all sense of time while doing the most unimportant and menial tasks.
6. Seriously, this chai latte is awful. Maybe it's because I don't drink these sorts of things often, but it's like burnt milk + artificial caramel flavoring. Ugh.

favorite small albums of '07

Naturally there were a lot of solid albums this year, including a number of very good albums by band you've already heard of (Killers, Arcade Fire). And there are some albums I'm pretty sure I'll like, but haven't had a chance to listen to (Jesca Hoop, Radiohead, Kate Nash). These were the albums that caught be by surprise and I'm happy to say I'm not sick of any of them yet. Check 'em out.

• Stars - In Our Bedroom After the War - As my last.fm profile will tell you, Stars have quickly become One Of My Favoritest Bands Ever. In Our Bedroom is maybe not their best album ever, but it's certainly their most cohesive.
• The National - Boxer - There aren't any super stellar tracks, but for some reason, I can't stop listening to this album. I think, more than anything, I'm always in the mood for Boxer -- whenever I don't have anything else I feel like listening to, it's what I queue up.
• José González - In Our Nature - Not as good as Veneer, but he still can't do wrong in my eyes.
• Feist - The Reminder - Not as cohesive as you might like, but there are just so many stand-out tracks on this album, she could have filled it out with random noise and it would still be a great album.
• The Weepies - Say I Am You - Ok, technically this came out in 2006, but it didn't cross my radar till early this year. This album is just so sweet, it's like a beautiful painting you could hang on your wall and never get sick of. You've probably heard their music in the JC Penny / Old Navy xmas ads now running.

saw it on the video

A little while ago I got a (3rd gen) ipod nano. Apple's tagline is "A little video for everyone" and while the screen isn't huge, it's tolerable... so watch little videos I do.

Despite making me feel obnoxiously adult-like, I have to admit I'm addicted to NYT's video podcasts (available via subscription in iTunes). In particular, the world video segments are delightfully compelling 5-8 minute looks into issues that normally get edited down to 30 seconds on regular news broadcasts.

On the longer video front, I really enjoyed watching the Larry Lessig's latest lecture about his new topic of focus: Corruption. I've been a huge fan of Lessig ever since I watched his excellent Free Culture lecture at MIT for 6.805 - Ethics and Law on the Electronic Frontier. I had the privilege of eating lunch with him when he came and gave a talk @ Google last year... he's just as awesome in person as he is on your computer. Two other worthwhile @google videos worth watching are Jose Gonzalez (taciturn musician extraordinaire) and Michael Lewis (author of Moneyball).

I've found that comedy works best on the small screen... drama not so much. I made it through Season 3 of Peep Show but I haven't been able to tackle Hotel Chevalier. If you know of anything worth watching on a screen the size of a large postage stamp, let me know.

indian omnibus

Well, it's my last day in India for this trip and I've still got notes on close to a bajillion things to write about. So, in the spirit of the Ask A Ninja Omnibus, hop on aboard as I bang through as much as I can before returning to my New York based, infrequently blogging ways.

• Chinese food -- Indian people generally only eat Indian food. The only exceptions to this are Western multi-national food chains (e.g. Domino's) and Chinese food. Just as the U.S. has its own brand of Chinese food (think "orange chicken"), so does India. Chinese food here is generally sauce heavy, spicy, and not fried. It's so distinctive, in fact, that it is available internationally and has its own Wikipedia page: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Indian_Chinese_cuisine
• Landmark navigation -- No one calls streets by their official names and street signs are rare at best so everyone here relies on landmark navigation to get around. It's utterly confusing as someone who doesn't live here and makes it close to impossible to get anywhere you've never been to before (unless conveniently located next to someplace you have been to and remember). I thought I'd be all independent and learn where things are in Mumbai this trip, but I quickly gave up when I realized all the dirty streets looked the same.
• Clothing -- My cousins took me to a store that sells casual dress shirts and started pulling out shirt after shirt for me to try, each a different and unusual color -- colors I rarely on people and certainly have never worn. Apprehensively I told them I'd try them on, but I was pretty sure they wouldn't go with my skin tone. Then, lo and behold, ever one of the ridiculous colors matched my complexion just fine. I was amazed until I remembered I'm in India... everyone here has my skin color and they've had thousands of years to figure out which fabric colors go well with it. On the other hand, in a country full of such exceptionally skinny people, the fit of the shirts was surprisingly loose. In all the clothing stores we went to, I consistently ended up getting the smallest size available -- I'm not smaller than the average Indian, but common practice here is to wear collared shirts baggy (and tucked in)... go figure.
• Historical upkeep -- India does a depressingly poor job maintaining its cultural landmarks. When I visited Raj Ghat (Gandhi's memorial in Delhi) a few years ago, the lawns were dying, the fountains dry, and the pathways dirty. The best maintained sites are almost always World Heritage Sites (maintenance funded by UNESCO) or Buddhist sites (maintenance funded by the Japanese). The notable exception to this is a series of palaces maintained by the Taj Hotels company. This means that whenever you see a large, beautiful, well-maintained, historic building, it's almost always hotel.
• Local trains -- Mumbai doesn't have a subway system (what they call "subway" we would call "pedestrian underpass") but it does of a simple system of above ground local trains. Riding the trains is considered quite scary but my experiences on this trip weren't so bad (I only went off-peak and always with someone more experienced). The train system is incredibly efficient, punctual, and dirty. It's the backbone of the dabbawallas who operate with "six sigma" precision. There are first class cars (10x more expensive), women-only cars, and general cars. The general cars are by far the most crowded and have people hanging out of the doorways (oh right, there are no doors) at all times.
  
• Cricket -- I never realized this, but cricket is way more popular than soccer in India. I don't think I've seen a single pick-up game of soccer here, but I've seen countless groups of all ages playing cricket. According to my cousins, Indian television show cricket and soccer matches but no other sporting events (not even the Olympics).
  
• Mustaches -- Something like 60% of Indian men have mustaches. I don't get it. Not beards, mustaches. Doesn't matter what your social status or occupation is, you probably have a mustache. The one exception is Bollywood actors who, for some reason, are generally clean-shaven.
• Driving -- Driving is perhaps the most singly scary thing you can do in India. I'd always understood that lane markers were optional in Mumbai, but when we went to Bhopal, I quickly learned that the center divider is just a suggestion too. No one wears a seat belt and everyone has their side-view mirrors tucked in (otherwise the mirror would get nicked off). Horns are so integral for announcing where you are and what you intend to do that you'd probably be better off driving blind than deaf in this country.
• My ignorance -- I don't speak Hindi or Marathi (just English and Java) so everyone (including my relatives) assumes I must know next to nothing about India and the Hinduism. My knowledge of Indian history is certainly lacking, but it gets very frustrating when people start describing to you, in simple terms, a dish that you've had since childhood. Especially annoying when people assume I know little about Hindu mythology. It's true that as a non-practicer, my familiarity with practical/daily details of Hinduism (why you do something x number of times, to always do y before z) is sketchy, but I've found that my knowledge of Hindu mythology is actually broader than most Indian people's. This is, in no small part, due to the fact that my sister and I were voracious readers when we were young and were fed piles upon piles of Amar Chitra Katha comics. At this point, I'm fairly sure my sister and I know more about Hindu mythology than both my parents and perhaps even more than my Grandfather and many of my cousins (incl. the ones living in India). Unfortunately, that doesn't seem to stop people from trying to explain to me who Ganesh is...

Alright; I have more to write about but this is the last stop... everyone off.

don't eat that...

As you might imagine, one of the best parts of visiting India is the Indian food. The one complication is that, as a foreigner, I can't eat a lot of it -- it makes me sick. It's not a problem of prejudice or strong distaste, it's a matter of microbes. "Don't drink the water" is as appropriate a warning in India as it is south of the border and the Maharajah's revenge is every bit as vicious as Montezuma's. Of course you can always build up an immunity if you want to... but by my dad's estimate it'd probably take you about three weeks to do so and it's been a long time since I've had a trip to India last longer than a month.

I learned first hand about these microbes the hard way when I came to India in 2002. My cousins run a fresh fruit juice stand in Mumbai and were positively insistent that I sample their offerings. Seeing as they were family and knew I wasn't from 'round these parts, my mother and I figured it was probably O.K. to try. Despite using filtered water when washing the fruit, some regular water presumably made its way into the mix and by the next day, I was running a fever as well as other.... physical discomforts. To make matters worse, this happened a day or two before my 32+ hour trip back to Boston... I think I spent most of my flight in line for or on the toilet.

Needless to say, many meals here are prefaced by a quick discussion as to which dishes are "safe." There are two major rules of thumb: anything uncooked containing water or sold uncovered off the street is off-limits. Water must be boiled or filtered (Aquaguard being the trusted brand name in filtering) before consumption and only up-scale restaurants bother to process all of the water used in the cooking process.

Of course the best food comes from the most questionable of origins. My friends and I are big fans of a type of Indian fast food known as kati rolls -- if someone we know doesn't like kati rolls, we tease them saying they "wouldn't last a day on the mean streets of Calcutta." The truth is, we probably wouldn't either. Proper street-side kati roll wallas use uncooked chutneys in their creations, so when I went out for some "authentic" kati rolls in Mumbai I had to settle for a more sanitary version from a proper food stand -- chutney on the side.
The unsatisfying verdict? I like the ones in NYC better... but without the sauce, it's not a fair fight.

in and on mumbai and bhopal

For as long as I can remember, my grandparents have lived in a part of Mumbai known as Santacruz West. Since we always stay with my grandparents when visiting, this area has come to define "India" for me and my sister -- through out numerous trips in our childhood, Santacruz West was the only part of India we were really exposed to.

In the local parlance, Santacruz West is a "suburb." It's considered a suburb since it is not part of downtown Mumbai and is mostly residential. In the U.S., the word "suburb" conjures up the mental image of low population density sprawl; large houses with clean, manicured lawns... nothing at all like Santacruz West.

Santacruz West is a crowded area choked with pollution. There is little green but lots of filthy cement. People don't use the sidewalks because they're pitted with large holes, exposing open storm drains below. You don't need to own a car because the streets are teaming with three-wheel rickshaws and taxis. The humid air traps the vehicle exhaust which eventually settles on city in a uniform layer of brown dust. Many people here to both chew paan and spit, resulting in splashes of dark red "paint" all over the place. It's almost intolerably hot for most of the year and much of the area floods during the monsoon season.

Given all this, it might be easy to imagine why my sister and I have spent most of our lives thinking poorly of India -- a country full of filth, wretched poor, and relatives we didn't recognize who chatted for hours in languages we couldn't understand. Finally, a few years ago, I put my foot down and told my mother that I'd only go to India on the condition that we traveled as tourists, not seldom seen family. Fewer relatives and more sight seeing. I was tired of hearing how beautiful and mystical India was from non-Indians when all my personal experience led me to believe otherwise. In the trips after this change in focus, I've finally seen many of India's most treasured gems, ranging from the Taj Mahal to the Ajanta Caves and Kailash Temple.


Most recently, my parents, grandparents, and I spent a few days in Bhopal, the capital of Madhya Pradesh in central India. Infamous in contemporary culture as the site of one of the world's worst industrial accidents in 1984, Bhopal is conveniently close to a number of historical sites and is also the home of my mom's cousin, currently serving as head of the state's police force.

Despite being a major city, Bhopal is still small enough to give a glimpse of why some people enjoy going to India. The population hasn't outgrown the latest round of city development ("New Bhopal" versus "Old Bhopal") so the streets aren't constantly clogged with traffic or littered with beggars. Bicycles are still a popular mode of transportation even though the roads are terrifying (I spent a lot of time being the only person in all of India wearing a seat belt and we were involved in a hit-and-run within hours of arriving). Just wandering through the city, you can't help but feel like the old men in Bhopal have lives full of poetic hardship etched into their faces.

Don't get me wrong -- Bhopal is still crowded, confusing, and polluted, but much less so than Mumbai (c.f. NYC). My view of the city may also be tinted by the fact that visiting family of the State Chief of Police are apparently to be treated like local VIPs. We stayed at the "Police Mess" and were given a lake side marble suite that cost us ~$10 / day (yes, this is ridiculously cheap, even in India), which included a bathroom the size of most studios in Manhattan as well as a 20-something guy who sat outside our rooms during the day to make sure we had everything we needed (and watch over our stuff when we were out). While on a day excursion to Udayagiri and Sanchi, the local police provided an escort as well as a lunch they had prepared for us... including the only cup of proper masala chai I've had so far this time in India (de facto chai doesn't include masala spices).

Pampering aside, Bhopal was an enjoyable trip, highlighted by visits to the Bhojeshwar temple and Bhimbetka paintings (photos forthcoming). Most importantly, it reminded me how much more I get out of India when I'm not just in Mumbai and not just spending time with relatives (not that I don't love you relatives! Hi Chimu and Baru!).

Anyways, now that I'm back in Mumbai, I'll hopefully pump out a few more light-hearted observational posts before I head back to the States. Mumbai might be destroying itself riding the rickety roller-coaster of industrialization, but it does have easy Internet access.

bucket bathing

Oh, hi there. You just caught me finishing a bucket bath... "what's that!?" you ask? Bucket baths are how you bathe when your lodgings lack bath tubs or shower heads. Basically you fill a big bucket with water then use a smaller bucket to pour the water over yourself while trying to lather/rinse/rub at the same time. I've been working on my technique these last few days but I still have a number of problems with the process.

• It's hard to get the temperature of the bucket water just right -- at any given time you can only add hot water or cold water to the bucket, so it's a delayed feedback system with a fixed deadline (the bucket edge). After a few days practice I'm now able to get a satisfactory temperature, but doing so requires diligence and sustained monitoring of bucket temperature.


• Perhaps the greatest mystery in my mind about bucket bathing is how I'm supposed to wash my arms. I generally pour with one hand and rub with the other, but on the arms I can either pour with no rubbing or try to awkwardly pour onto the arm holding the bucket while rubbing the arm down gently so I don't splash water everywhere. It's very inefficient; I think I use 1/4 of the bucket water on just my arm & shoulder regions.


• Finally, bucket bathing requires me to stand naked in the middle of a bathroom and pour water on myself. Standing in a running shower is mentally acceptable, but standing around naked without water constantly running over me is strangely unsettling. It's clearly a silly cultural thing, but I'm having trouble adjusting.

While we're on the matter of washroom cleansing, let me just answer the one question I know you've all been asking yourselves: No, they don't use toilet paper in India. They instead use, you guessed it, buckets of water. No, no, you don't sit in the bucket; you pour the water down your backside.
I'm fine with about 3/4ths of this method -- feel free to read an extended critique of toilet bucket system in my new book entitled OK, My Butt is Clean and Dripping Wet... Now What?.

getting here

Getting to India was surprisingly straightforward. I caught a direct flight from JFK to Mumbai which was ~14 hours (which, for the record, is about how long it takes to get to Korea if you go the other direction) and meant no worrying about missed connections. The flight was totally full (11 stand-bys didn’t make it) and Delta had to pull the “we’re overbooked and need a volunteer to give up their seat" game. I ended up sitting next to what I hope was a newly married couple – an Indian man and a white woman who looked like Alf Mushpie from Bloom County, except that she was overly reverential to her husband (e.g. unwrapping his food and feeding him) for the entire flight. This weirded me out and I was in the window seat so it was all napping, New Yorker, and seat-back video entertainment for me.

Baggage claim reminded me how atypical an Indian tourist I am. Neither a returning native, nor a dedicated tourist, I was the owner of the sole bag on the conveyor belt not stuffed to the point of bursting. I probably could have survived with a single carry on if I'd wanted to, but I'd been warned that I would need room for bringing things back. Failing to fall in a typical classification felt a bit weird and led to some short lived introspection, but at least it made it easy to pick out my one gaunt bag from the other black suitcases labeled "PATIL."

Mumbai's airport has undergone major renovations recently and the finished product is much cleaner and tourist friendly than the the old airport, which was beige, green, and brown and patrolled by soldiers who assumed you spoke Hindi and were casually armed with assault rifles. Customs were unexpectedly easy -- in the past I've entered India with my mom who always has 2 bags full of gifts and pockets full of gold (to be made into jewellery), but this time I was alone and carrying nothing but clothes and some books. There was also some guy arguing with the x-ray machine operator (something about how tax payer's are either harrassed too much or too little, I wasn't quite sure) so I don't think he even looked at my stuff. Between exiting the plane and finding my parents outside, the only words I exchanged with anyone were "Thank you" to the passport control guy.

As I made my way out the airport, I started to wonder if some how India had transformed since my last visit three years ago. Maybe Mumbai, like its airport, was now cleaner, friendlier, and less scary. Then I walked outside and realized India hadn't changed... it was just how I remembered it: hot, humid, utterly confusing and overflowing with people.

indian arrival

It’s 7am and I’ve been mostly awake for the last few hours, thanks to nine and a half hours of jet lag compounded by 14 hours of fitful sleep on the plane. My family is gradually waking up – my father and my grandparents are already busying themselves, readying for the day – in the various parts of my grandfather’s apartment where the eight of us are staying for the next few days. On the way over I was bit by the desire to write, so here I am tapping away on my old Dell Latitude laptop, a tech hand-me-down recently brought over by my parents, just like I used to when I pounded out weekly columns in college.
As bodies and bodies of better-written work can testify, traveling often entails learning more about yourself and where you come from than it does about where you’re going. No matter how many trips I’ve made, this is how I feel every time I visit India. Seeing as I no longer have my own newspaper column, I’ll be posting my thoughts (the interesting, intriguing, and the insipid) here over the next two weeks.

mid-october weather

Feeling cold in Northern CA? Come on over to NYC for some more pleasant weather.

me + microsoft's new search

Microsoft launched a major update to "Live Search" so, being the vain techie I am, I did a little vanity search to see their results:


The first result for my name is for a term paper I wrote my senior year of undergrad, which is appears to be more important than my undergrad personal website. Also apparently you can find me on eBay, which certainly good news for those of you who've been dying to get your hands on me.

Taking a look at Google's results:


First result is this blog, second is my undergrad website, third is my master's thesis. No ads. Sadly neither search engine has picked up on my current homepage, so there's still work to be done for both... Akshay Patil, Akshay, Patil -- there, that should do it.

(To round out the coverage: Yahoo thinks my last name is a misspelling of "Patel" & Ask.com gets my undergrad website as result 1, but has a spam blog as result 3)

now in 2D

My mom isn't a fan of the photo I posted earlier, so hopefully she'll like this one better. It's what I would look like if I were a Simpsons character (designed on the Simpsons Movie website). The eyes are a bit big, but then again, it's a cartoon character.

in 95% better shape than previously suspected

I ran 10 miles with Kushal yesterday. I'm pretty sure that's significantly further than I've ever run before and both Kushal and I were impressed with how well I held up ("annoyingly in shape" were Kushal's words =).
Much to my surprise I woke up this morning feeling perfectly fine with the exception of my knees, which are killing me. I've regretted living on the 5th floor of a walk-up for the last day, let me tell you.

origins

Enough people still ask that it seems necessary to write another post explaining the title of this blog. My father and grandfather are both big fans of a Danish mathematician named Piet Hein who wrote a series of short, light poems called Grooks in the '50s and '60s. (!) is an allusion to the Grook:


AN ODE TO MODESTY

Talking of successful rackets
modesty deserves a mention.
Exclamation marks in brackets
never fail to draw attention.

updates

I get flak for not updating this blog often enough, so here I am... updating. I tend to over-expose myself to the internet through less direct means these days: flickr, facebook, twitter, etc. See q00p.net for all your ak-stalking needs.

Anyways, I'm sitting in the Long Beach Airport headed back to New York after a short romp through CA for Man Diego (photos), Work, and Mother's Day. I've been traveling a bit these days, including trips to Holland/Spain and Boston (Go Sox!), but I think I'll have a good month or two of staying put in New York City after this, which should be nice.

Outside of traveling, I've been helping friends work on a continuing side project of mine called PartyChat, going to concerts (Honeycut, Snow Patrol, Priscilla Ahn, etc...), exploring Manhattan, watching TV, eating cupcakes... the usual stuff. My point-and-shoot camera is busted, so I haven't been taking as many photos as I'd like to...
I don't think there's anything more riveting to say about my life. I'd like to get back to writing long-winded rambly reflections on subjects of no value, like I used to, so watch this space or unsubscribe from this feed, depending on your feelings on the matter.

Hrm, guess that'll have to satisfy people's hunger for the moment since it looks like my plane's about to start boarding. More updates later, maybe.
P.S. Included photo is courtesy of my new company-issued MacBook Pro -- I took the photo something like 2 minutes after I got it. I still love shiny new technology.

help me.... stalk you.

I recently updated my "homepage" to pull in recent items from the hodgepodge of websites I use. There was some interest from others as to how I did it, so here's the skinny.

Google Reader lets you share RSS feeds using "clips" (javascript you paste into your page's html source). If you specify "Color scheme: None" then the output of the clip is formatted like everything else on your page. I just created clips for each website I use that exports an RSS feed and let Google Page Creator do the rest.

Mihai then gave some additional tips: you can specify a feed clip without actually subscribing to it and you can hide the little "Read more" link at the bottom of each feed. To hide the "Read more" link, include the following style definition somewhere above the clip:

<style>
.reader-publisher-module .f {display: none}
</style>

This instructs webbrowsers to ignore the section of the page that has the link. To specify a feed without subscribing to it, change the clip to look like:

<script type="text/javascript" src="http://www.google.com/reader/ui/publisher.js"></script>
<script type="text/javascript" src="http://www.google.com/reader/public/javascript/feed/http://akpatil.blogspot.com/atom.xml?n=2&callback=GRC_p%28%7Bc%3A%27-%27%2Ct%3A%27%27%2Cs%3A%27false%27%7D%29%3Bnew%20GRC"></script>

And you're set.

i want to cry.

This has to be one of the saddest customer service conversations I've ever listened to: Vcents (transcript). Warning: those of you who are sensitive to inconceivably stubborn stupidity may be offended.