BRAIN DRAIN

When my dad threw his copy of Tim Harford’s The Undercover Economist my way, I was skeptical. Normally when my dad recommends a book for me to read, mostly on “serious” subjects like economics, business or current events, it’s much to my liking, and the reverse is usually true for the books I throw his way. Yet this one was different. For one thing, he came upon it after reading Steven Levitt’s Freakonomics (and Levitt incidentally has a “soundbyte” on the book’s front cover). I didn’t much like Freakonomics, finding it overrated and simplistic, though my dad swears by it. It also didn’t help that Harford is a regular columnist for the Financial Times, a broadsheet that I have always found very difficult to read.

But it turns out that the book is actually quite good.

In some ways, The Undercover Economist is your standard “economics in the real world” reader. To simplify, the book is organized much like any standard economics textbook: Harford starts with the basic problem of scarcity and thereby demand and supply, goes on to discuss why markets work, explores why markets sometimes don’t, offers some thoughts on globalization and ends with a brief commentary on the importance of economics to human well being.

However, there is hardly anything “textbook” about his approach. If anything, the book’s strength lies in Harford’s ability to explain economic concepts using everyday examples - that is, without the math - while occasionally injecting humor along the way. Seasoned students of economics will be entertained by his anecdotes regarding the high price of coffee, the difficulty of finding low-rent apartments in the center of London and why it is nearly impossible to purchase a decent second-hand car from a used car salesman. At the same time, the book is accessible enough to readers not too familiar with the field such that they come away with a better understanding of such topics as scarcity power, externalities, asymmetric information and adverse selection (just to name a few) than even they may have thought possible.

This is not to say that the book is without its faults. Harford attempts to walk a fine line between writing a simplified economics manuscript and a witty commentary, and he does not always succeed. His anecdotes and insights are most effective when put to work explaining more practical phenomena than larger, more abstract concepts. To that end, the earlier chapters of the book, detailing day-to-day examples of economics in practice (so that’s why coffee companies able to charge exorbitant prices for their java!), are more compelling than the later ones (the chapter on globalization, in my opinion, was probably the weakest of the lot despite the very vivid anecdotes). And he does tend to belabor certain points unnecessarily. Taking the book for what it is, however, it is a very insightful bit of light and maybe not-so-light reading worth perusing.

Readers who enjoy this book will also probably enjoy Charles Wheelan’s much more straightforward Naked Economics, by far the simplest reader on the subject out there that isn’t a textbook. The book also complements John McMillan’s Reinventing the Bazaar, a much more serious book with a more limited focus on markets.

I spent the past few days going through a bunch of DVDs while working on a few projects at home. Particularly, I ended up watching Pirates of the Carribean: Curse of the Black Pearl as well as Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children. While it’s not the first time I’ve watched these (it’s more like the Nth time for both, actually) I did notice some things I hadn’t before, which had me grinning from ear to ear for the rest of the day.

First, Pirates. I couldn’t help but pop my copy into the player again since I got to see (and enjoy) the second already. When I left the theater after watching Dead Man’s Chest, the one thing I wondered in retrospect was why on earth the crew of the Pearl ended up on that cannibal island. Sure the entire sequence was action-packed and full of laughs, but the more I thought about it, the sequence also felt like one of those things a director/writer/producer thinks up on a whim to throw into a movie short of the kitchen sink.

Then it all came together as I was watching the first installment again.

Aide memoir: When Jack makes his debut at Port Royal, he tries to steal a ship and is stopped by two bumbling guards. The scene cuts to Norrington’s promotion, where he asks to speak to Elizabeth privately, by the cliff edge. Thereafter, Elizabeth faints and falls down the cliff. At this point, the scene cuts to Jack and the guards, with Elizabeth falling in the background. Before she hits the water, viewers can hear Jack explaining to the guards, “…and they made me their chief…”

Or something like that. One way or another, it was an interesting way of establishing continuity between the films.

Next, Advent Children. Anyone who’s ever played FFVII must own this one; it’s the film that Spirits Within should’ve been but infinitely better, even if it might only be appreciated by fans of the video game. Now the creative team behind this release really went to painstaking lengths to please fans, so I’m sure if one tries hard enough there are plenty of little details all around (Cloud and Tifa’s limit breaks come to mind). I think I caught the most understated one, and in plain sight.

If one looks carefully, I think all the protagonists are wearing a ribbon on their arms. This is most noticeable when the entire party comes together to take down Bahamut, and it’s obvious when Cloud rips off the sleeve from his robe. For those who aren’t familiar or don’t recall, ribbons are probably the most useful accessory in the video game; while they hardly (or probably don’t) enhance a character’s statistics, they do nullify all status effects (useful when ambushed by a pack of Malboros).

One more little detail in the movie that I did appreciate was Cloud’s storage for his swords on the motorcycle. This was certainly license on the part of the creative team, but it did help explain how he could carry all those swords with him throughout the game.

I don’t particularly consider myself a film buff, nor do I go to extreme lengths to catch little easter eggs or goofs in movies (for the life of me, I still can’t find that Stormtrooper that bumps his head on the doorjamb in the Death Star in A New Hope). But details like these make me understand how some people can obsess over such things. More power to them.

After toying around with my brother’s month-old iPod, I’ve come up with two reasons to invest in a new one, and they have nothing to do with its ability to play music.

First, these newer iPods make use of flash drive technology, which make them very attractive alternatives to limited memory jump drives. Older models were actually hard disks in an MP3 player’s clothing, and while you could use them as extra memory for storage, it was cumbersome for a Mac user to use them for that purpose when transferring files from Windows PCs. Thus, these newer ones are much easier to use.

Second, the video playback of the fifth generation iPod is quite sharp. By and large, this feature surprised me the most. While I still can’t imagine chucking a full-length movie into one and watching it from start to finish, I can imagine watching shorts or anything the length of a television series during short trips, which is great for Mr. Everyman Commuter (and Apple is apparently on to something in selling cheap episodes of several TV series over the iTunes Music store). More, freeware programs have already begun mushrooming across the internet allowing people to convert their video files into the iPod’s video format (MP4) with very good quality. For instance, I downloaded a copy of iSquint (get the joke?) and tested it out by converting a couple of my brother’s fan-dubbed anime videos and playing it on his iPod. When he saw the results, the fanatic literally kneeled before me in awe. If I get a unit of my own, I’d probably fill it up with something similar.

Unfortunately for me, there are two compelling reasons I’ll probably be stuck with my third generation iPod for quite a while.

To begin with, my iPod might be old but it has a new battery. When I started noticing that my iPod would barely stay on for two hours, I decided to spend around $30 on a new battery instead of shelling out at least ten times that amount on a new iPod. Thus, I ordered a do-it-yourself battery replacement kit from ipodjuice.com, which gave me the opportunity to open up my iPod, see its inner workings and play electrical technician for a nerve-wracking ten minutes. The operation was a success, and the patient now has a new lease on life. That experience alone has made me more attached to my iPod.

More than that, I don’t think my iPod’s memory will ever get run out. It’s a 40 gig model, and after chucking into it every CD I could find at home as well as backups of my more important files and using it to store my digital pictures, I’ve still only used up about 17 gig. I’m beginning to think it’ll begin falling apart long before I ever use it up to capacity (and I can’t imagine what anyone will do with one of those 60 gig iPods available, as much as I’d like to get a shot at it). Also, the fact that my iPod supports firewire, which these newer ones don’t, seems to allow for faster transfers of larger files - but don’t quote me on that.

So it looks like I’ll be stuck with my trusty old iPod for a long time. Unless I lose all self control and just up and buy one. Or someone gives one to me. Or I secretly pocket my brother’s when I leave for the US in late August.

Sounds like a plan.

I have never figured out why Filipinos insist on the long funeral procession to the cemetary.

I ran into the tail end of one this morning as I was heading home, and whoever orchestrated this one was aspiring to put together the mother of all processions. Yes, there was the lead funeral car on a painfully slow pace. Yes, there was the convoy of vehicles behind it with, I presume, family and friends. Par for the course. And, okay, maybe that second funeral car was a little disturbing, but it’s still reasonably normal.

But then there were the three busloads of people that were part of the convoy - and I do mean busloads, as in people being bused to the cemetery. Three of them. Plus, there was the float with the Chinese lanterns and banners (I suppose the dearly departed was, well, Chinese) in the middle of it all.

And the marching band. Did I mention the marching band?

So obviously, this was a major production. My guess is that some bigwig local tycoon was being sent off to his final resting place, with the people being bused his employees (they were wearing uniforms, see). Apparently, the local authorities were informed, too, as cops were managing traffic as best they could, giving the procession right of way at nearly every intersection heading to the highway. So I have a very strong feeling that my guess is right on the money.

Just don’t make me explain that marching band.

Now, I’m all for tradition and paying respect to the dead, but what gets me is the impracticality of it all. I think the tradition is rooted in the perception that to approach matters more expeditiously is akin to whisking the corpse away to the burial ground ASAP, and good riddance. But in my book, dead is dead regardless of whether the procession itself is dragged out. And, as in all things, I think the more ostentatious such arrangements get (they had a float for goodness’ sake!), the less solemn everything becomes.

More, something must be said about the sheer chaos on the roads these processions cause, especially in Manila. In an area where traffic snarls for blocks on end and crawls at a snail’s pace, and where roads are relatively narrow to boot, it should be downright criminal to inconvenience so many motorists and pedestrians in this way. (However, I must admit this is an interesting way to annoy people from the great beyond.)

When I kick the bucket/bite the big one/go a really long time without blinking (not anytime soon, I hope!), I’d want to be laid to rest quickly, peacefully and solemnly (I also want to be cremated, but that’s another story). I suppose I will be just as anti-social in death as I am now alive, but I can’t help it. Heck, I have a hunch few people will be there to attend my funeral anyway, though I would of course be happy if I was able to draw a sizeable crowd of the all the people I cared for while alive.

But do leave the marching band out of it.

On the day I was supposed to fly home, I made a trip to the Nintendo store in order to buy a copy of Tetris DS. The night before, while playing New Super Mario Bros. I unearthed the Warp Zone to World 8, so I figured my days in the Mushroom Kingdom were numbered and thought I could use a game that I could play without remorse for hours on end. The latest reincarnation of Tetris seemed to be just what the doctor ordered.

Anyone who would think that Tetris is passe couldn’t be more wrong. The game comes with six game modes to drive even the most line-creating obsessed person nuts. Apart from the standard Tetris mode, there’s a puzzle mode (clear X number of lines with Y number of blocks) a mission mode that forces players to perform certain tasks (i.e. clear three lines at once) throughout the course of a game, and a “touch” mode that utilizes the DS’s touch screen to clear out blocks. In addition to these, two new ways of playing Tetris are introduced. “Push” mode is like a cross between Tetris and reverse tug of war: with your area viewed on the top screen and that of your opponent in the bottom screen, the idea is for you to push him down by making lines of two or more; your opponent then tries to do the opposite by pushing you to the top instead. Then there’s the game’s “catch” mode, which is probably the hardest to describe. Here, you move and rotate a single block around the screen with Tetriminos (apparently, that’s what they call the Tetris shapes) flying past you; if you collect enough to form a 4×4 block they explode, clearing the screen and awarding you points - which you have to do in order to survive 20 levels. Trust me: it’s quite engaging when you figure it out and you only really understand it if you see it.

Not all the bells and whistles in the game really work, however. Notwithstanding the improved music and more colorful gameplay, the only game modes I really care for are the classic standard mode and the catch mode (this latter one is a real winner, but it’s a shame you can only go as far as level 20). More, the one feature advertised I was really looking forward to - which was the view of gameplay from past Nintendo games such as the NES Mario series, Ice Climber, Excite Bike and Zelda - on the top screen while playing standard mode - was the one that disappointed me the most. While these do get displayed like demos as you play, it’s practically impossible to watch unless you want to screw up the game you’re playing. But Tetris DS does compensate in other ways. Thankfully, the learning curve is quite fast even for the new game modes, and the ability to vary levels of difficulty can make the easier modes more challenging. I actually put the game through its paces during the flight home and had everything figured out by the time I arrived.

Of course, there is one added bonus to Tetris DS: its multiplayer functionality. Once I got the internet connection at home up and running, I naturally couldn’t resist trying it out over the Nintendo Wi-Fi connection. And then I got really addicted.

The game really shines in a multiplayer environment. Over Wi-Fi you have the option of playing standard head-to-head Tetris, or head-to-head push Tetris (which I avoid like the plague because I’m not too good at it!), or standard four player Tetris with items. This latter mode reminded me of the glory days of Tetrinet (sans the ability to switch screens), and some of the items Nintendo introduced from its repertoire make for really testy matches. Believe me: Tetris gets very interesting when player number 3 zaps you with a lightning bolt that prevents you from rotating your blocks!

This was my first foray into the Nintendo Wi-Fi connection, and it did not disappoint. There was no problem getting my DS to access my router and thereby the internet, and once that was done I was up and, uh, gaming in minutes. And the beauty of it all was precisely the ability to match wits at Tetris with anyone worldwide, the only downside being having to wait for opponents to play against (more a problem for four player games). It’s the ultimate competitive high playing against opponents that adapt to your playing stlyle and strategies in real time. More, for those really particular about these sorts of things, Nintendo maintains a system that ranks each player based on their wins against “better” or “worse” opponents (and if you log on to their website, you can see how you rank worldwide). Now I thought I played a mean game of Tetris, but some of the opponents I’ve played against are almost unreal. And that’s part of the charm. Even when you keep losing you think you can “get that one back”; and before you know it, you’ve played forty games and are none the wiser.

I admit: lately I can’t help but wonder whether I just got owned by some eight year old in Tokyo. Stranger things have happened.

The men in my family - by which I mean myself, my brother and my dad - are stereotypical one-trick ponies. We hardly ever mess with success or risk ruining a good thing. If we could start a cult around the precept of “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it” we probably would. This predisposition of ours is most evident when it comes to my mom’s birthday.

Preparing for the “celebration” is practically routine. Dinner is a foregone conclusion, though whether we celebrate it on the day of her birthday or over the weekend is usually a toss-up (and my dad may take mom out another place fancy apart from the family dinner). My brother and I will almost always fret over what gift to get my mom. And I, for my part, will most certainly be the one to order the flowers.

But then last year my dad decided to mix things up. “I’m thinking…balloons,” he said.

A plan was hatched. I’d order balloons. My brother would help me hide it out back. Then, late at night when my dad got home, we’d all set it up for my mom to see in the morning. With that in mind, I set out to find what we needed a week in advance. When I found the right store, I took it upon myself to place the order. I asked that the balloons have a token greeting printed on each one. I figured it would be nice to have a mix of floating balloons and a bunch to leave lying around on the floor. And naturally, I couldn’t help but feel it was necessary to have balloons in the amount of a nice round number.

So I ordered a hundred of them.

I never really realized how many a hundred balloons were until I had to figure out how to transport them home (we couldn’t have them delivered if it was supposed to be a suprise). Sneaking out of the house while my mom was away, it took three trips in my dad’s SUV just to bring them over, and I had to fit them in every available space just to make it work. The most stressful part was driving “blind” without the ability to look via the rearview mirror or rear windows, especially to look out in case my mom would be coming home in her car.

Apparently, I didn’t need to worry about that, because in between the second and third trips my mom arrived home, and she was in the kitchen with the door overlooking the driveway into our garage.

In the face of that unforeseen circumstance, my brother performed one of the most amazing sequence of events I’ve ever seen. He got my mom to turn around. He went out the kitchen door. He helped me unload the last batch of balloons from the car. Then he walked right past the kitchen door with my mom’s back still to him and hid the balloons with the rest in our laundry area out back.

You just had to be there.

Then everything fell into place. When my dad came home that night and helped us with the balloons, we were all snickering silly at how many balloons we had to set up (I really went overboard with a hundred!). But the funny thing is that my mom woke up in the middle of the night to get a drink of water and in a daze walked right smack into the middle of the balloons without noticing. Of course, when she did finally completely wake up she was very pleasantly surprised. In fact, for about two weeks after her birthday the hallway was still filled with balloons, with the floating ones gradually deflating and falling back to the ground. My dad kept insisting that the fact she kept the balloons out that long - that is, for as long as the floating ones stayed aloft - just showed how much she liked her surprise.

This year, I came home a good four days before my mom’s birthday. Thinking that to do the same thing all over again would be rather anti-climactic, I fully expected we’d fall back upon our old routine; in fact, the day after I arrived I already ordered my mom’s flowers. But then the day before my mom’s birthday, my dad walked up to my brother and me and just had to say it:

“I’m thinking…balloons.”

Thus I went off to get the balloons, knowing for certain that I’d order maybe just a dozen. But I wasn’t too sold on the idea of doing the same thing “redux”, especially on such short notice. So all on my own, I decided to mix things up.

I ordered ten balloon arrangements that came in separate flower pots.

On my way to pick up the balloon-pots, which were ready an hour later than expected right before the store closed, and three blocks away from the store, my celphone began ringing. It was my mom: she was having car trouble about twenty minutes away and needed my help. Since I was so close to the store I briefly flirted with the idea of picking up the balloons and bringing them home before coming to get mom; but realizing how hazardous that plan was to my health (you don’t ever want to keep your mom waiting, believe you me), I called the store to tell them I’d pick it up first thing in the morning and went off to perform my filial duties.

In the morning I got up bright and early and went to pick up the balloons. Thankfully, when I got back mom was holed up in her room, so I was able to smuggle in the decor right under her nose. Lacking any other alternative, I carefully laid out the balloons along our staircase then made myself scarce. Mom was certainly surprised: within a fifteen minute span (the time since she went into the room), balloons suddenly appeared in the staircase. Another birthday plan fulfilled.

That was a week ago, and the balloons are still there. She must be enjoying them a lot. I just hope she’s not waiting for them to deflate and drop to the floor before deciding to put them away. In all the excitement, I forgot to tell her that they’re not filled with helium - they’re just filled with air.

I’ve discovered the most effective way to get results from PLDT DSL’s technical support line: yell indiscriminately at the person on the other end.

Well that’s an exaggeration, but let’s face it: there are times when enough is enough. Maybe it’s when for some inexplicable reason the DSL service you pay for is unbearably slow. Or when you call them several times to report the problem and are promised a return call each time for remote testing, and they never do. Or when your internet service stays dead for an entire month, and the person on the other end of the line refuses to give you a definite commitment as to when you’ll be able to use the service again (which you’re paying for in the meantime, by the way). Take your pick; but when that straw breaks the camel’s back, I think otherwise reasonable people have every right to act unreasonably, and with interest.

By and large, PLDT DSL’s technical support is one of the worst I’ve experienced in a long time, and it wasn’t always like that. When we (my family) first signed up for the service a couple of years ago we faced none of these issues. The few times we’d encounter problems - and the fact that there were few problems in the beginning is revealing of how terribly they’ve deteriorated - the help line was just that: very helpful. The people on the other end would be easy to talk to, reasonably articulate, and most importantly, effective.

Now it’s just the opposite. When you call, you end up on hold for no less than twenty minutes before you can even talk to a human being. Then no matter what difficulties you have, you will be fed the line that they’re experiencing network problems in your area (yeah, right: in my case, one month of “network problems” is just absurd). You will be “assured” it will be fixed, which gets ridiculous each time you call to report the same problem, which apparently they are aware you still experience. When you ask when it will be fixed you will be told, so sorry, they can’t say, but you’ll just have to wait, as if their customers will take solace in the fact that the problem will miraculously and eventually disappear. If you’re extremely lucky, you might even end up speaking with a person who sounds like she doesn’t believe you when you describe your problem, or is condescending towards you as if you don’t know anything about computers (obviously, I have had such luck). More, it doesn’t help that the person on the other end of the line speaks bad English and sounds more like an auto mechanic at the local talyer than a computer engineer - and saying that is an insult to machanics everywhere.

And that’s just the tech support line. Dealing with their billling department is an altogether different circle of hell.

In the month prior to my return home, my brother tried to deal with the tech support line to resolve our problem with no luck. When I got home, I initially tried the polite tack with the same results. After two days of repeated calls I decided I’d had it, and when I finally got through to them that last time and a person named “Roger” introduced himself, I didn’t even give him a chance to say anything edgewise and started “yelling”.

I’m not proud of it, and I actually pity the guy. Compared to anyone else I talked to previously and at least one person I talked to since, he was the most helpful. No one else suggested solutions that were nearly as inspired after really listening to what I had to say, and ultimately he was the one who was able to resolve my problem. Sadly, we will never be able to disentangle whether this was because he was relatively more adept than his colleagues or because he was on the line with an otherwise irate customer.

On some level, this may be just one of the unintended consequences of the Philippines’ booming call center industry. With so many foreign firms setting up their backroom operations in the country, and at the wages they’re willing to pay, it should come as no surprise that they get their pick of the best people to hire. Unfortunately, this leaves local companies that require similar backroom support with the dregs of the workforce, competing to scrape what’s left at the bottom of the barrel.

I don’t envy anyone who has to deal with PLDT DSL’s technical support anytime soon. In fact, if PLDT DSL is any indication, I worry that technical support and customer service for Philippine companies in general face a bleak future. But perhaps there is hope. After all, there was Roger.

One of the more interesting aspects of the theory of general relativity - and the interplay of gravity, space and time - that I think understand is the twins paradox. The venerable Stephen Hawkings describes it thus:

“Consider a pair of twins. Suppose that one twin goes to live on the top of a mountain while the other stays at sea level. The first twin would age faster than the second. Thus, if they met again, one would be older than the other. In this case, the difference in ages would be very small, but it would be much larger if one of the twins went for a long trip in a spaceship at nearly the speed of light. When he returned, he would be much younger than the one who stayed on earth.”

This can be taken to mean that international travel (by airplaine, of course) can actually serve the purpose of keeping us younger, however infinitesimal the effect may be. Think about it: if gravity has the ability to curve (read: slow down) space-time, the time we spend in the air “cheating” gravity allows time to speed by that much more quickly, albeit in millionths of a second, if not less.

So hypothetically, given the amount of time I’ve already spent flying from one place to another, particularly on the long-haul flights, I’m probably a handful of moments “younger” than other people who would otherwise be my age!

Or not. With the stress that accompanies international travel - and some trips are necessarily more stressful than others - I can’t help but feel all the worse for wear, and suspect others feel the same way.