BRAIN DRAIN

Some trivia that came up while easing into my duties as transient COO (that’s “child-of-owner”, in case anyone begins to think I’ve suddenly hit it big):

Chinese schools in the Philippines naturally teach Mandarin as part of their curricula. Now, while it’s obvious that Mandarin is spoken practically the same way wherever it is taught, it’s less known that reading the language is a little tricky. This is because there are two schools of thought that prevail where this is concerned: one side holds that the language should be taught using the “traditional”, perhaps harder to learn, characters often associated with Chinese in general; the other, for their part, favors using a “simplified” version of these characters, which could be argued to be a more progressive approach. Cast in this light, the issue comes across as little more than the usual ivory tower debate that rages in academic circles. Yet the fact of the matter is that the difference between these schools of thought has little to do with opinions on pedagogy. It’s the politics, stupid.

This is easy to see when the proponents behind either side are unmasked. The “keep with traditional” argument stems from Taiwan, while the “reduce and simplify” mantra emanates from mainland China. The former approach has held sway for many years now, but in recent years the latter has been gaining ground. Why the change? Simple: introducing Mandarin to future generations in what is for all intents and purposes a practically new alphabet makes reading older texts written in the traditional alphabet difficult, if not downright impossible. Although making reading harder to do in the future might seem odd, it does make sense when the reading in question involves the history of a nation whose identity and leadership remain a bone of contention.

Of course, it’s easy to tell whose influence (China or Taiwan) holds sway in a country just by looking at the type of Mandarin characters being used in its Chinese schools. Singapore, for instance, purportedly has strong ties to the mainland, and as such have adopted the simplified character set much earlier than many countries. The Philippines, on the other hand, betrays a strong Taiwanese influence as Chinese schools still adhere to the traditional characters, although adoption of the simplified set is ever so slowly taking place. And that is probably the inevitable conclusion: in the end, it’s unlikely that a billion people will be trumped by a tiny island, no matter who their friends are.

I don’t speak a lick of Mandarin, and the only Chinese characters I can read are the few I remember from learning some kanji while taking up Japanese, so I presume that this is all news to those similarly linguistically challenged. But I buy it. Not only do I have no reason to doubt the persons who cared to share these insights, it’s hard to deny that it all makes an incredible amount of sense.

Back in the day, Sonic the Hedgehog was the upstart who dared rival Nintendo’s princess-saving portly plumber. He was a fresh character on a different kind of platformer, one where veteran gamers learned that speed mattered above all else, stages had multiple paths to the finish line, and clinging to a single ring was the key to survival. If one were to look at the sales figures, it wouldn’t be surprising at all to find sales of the Sega Genesis (that’s the MegaDrive to folks in the Asia-Pacific) driven largely by Sega’s most promising character.

Unfortunately, in the same manner that Sonic the Hedgehog was meant to be the fastest thing alive, the video game franchised he spawned seemingly jumped the shark just as quickly. Poor storylines, redundant characters, and ill-designed gamplay cast the series into a funk from which even its newer installments have never quite emerged. Yet what fans of the series know all too well is that the best Sonic game in years is readily available for gamers on the go in the form of Sonic Rush for the Nintendo DS.

It’s an old game to be sure (came out in 2005), but is hands-down a must-own title for the handheld. Sonic Rush gets just about everything right that made the original game stand out: it’s a no-frills, cheap thrills, pick-up-and-play, get-to-the-goal-as-fast-as-possible experience that is satisfying beyond words. More, with the handheld’s dual screens, there’s twice as much ground through which to rocket Sonic, a disorienting experience at first that quickly becomes nothing short of cool. Also, the story that introduces an alternative playable character in Blaze the Cat is mercifully passable (but then again, this is Sonic; the bar has been set rather low).

Short of reinventing the wheel, Sonic Rush shows that the least that needs to be done to recapture the glory of a storied franchise is to bring it back to basics . A sequel is already in the works, which looks promising despite the fact that it boasts only more of the same. While fans remain hopeful that Sega will come up with new ideas to re-jigger the Sonic franchise, for now they can find solace by popping Sonic Rush into a DS and have Sonic run, spin and jump as in the august days of old.

Here’s an interesting thought experiment (it will be familiar to anyone who read Kevin Smith’s run on Daredevil, but probably has appeared elsewhere): if you could go back in time to when Hitler was an infant, knowing all that he would do in his lifetime, would you kill him?

Now there’s some food for thought just ripe for debate.

Of course, there are loads of other thought experiments out there: Kant’s concept of a categorical imperative is by itself an example, as is the token discussion on whether all swans are white that consumes classes on logic, positivism or empiricism (take your pick). In any event, Wired has put together a list of supposedly the best thought experiments. While undoubtedly neither comprehensive nor detailed, it is intriguing reading that makes for equally engaging conversation (and the comments appended to the article are already proof of this).

Note, however, that the ones they feature are mostly close-ended, unlike the one above.

[Wired: The Best Thought Experiments]

Marisha Pessl struck gold with her debut novel, Special Topics in Calamity Physics. Critics generally went ga-ga over the book, owing to the sheer ingenuity and skill involved in the storytelling, the scope of the erudition that finds its way into the narrative, and most of all the compelling heroine through which Ms. Pessl’s voice rings fresh and true.

Such is the strength of Calamity Physics: Pessl is able to convince us readers that precocious sixteen year-old Blue van Meer is writing both to us and for us. We are drawn into Blue’s tale as witnesses to the angst, pressures and missteps occasioned by her senior year in high school, precisely because the events recounted in the book — from the secret history of the June Bugs to the unsettling turn of events in Blue’s life that mark the story’s conclusion — feel at once charmingly and painfully real. Nevermind that the novel progresses as a coming-of-age tale for half the book before turning into something that is not entirely a murder mystery, as if Pessl suddenly decided to shift gears at some point in the manuscript’s development. Nevermind that the book is peppered with pretentious pop-culture references that may not be accessible to non-American readers. Nevermind, further, that Pessl takes the “course outline” idea a little too far with the “final exam” at the end of the book (although in fairness this does manage to shed light on why the novel was written as it was). No: Special Topics in Calamity Physics is first and last all about Blue van Meer, one of the best fictional characters to have been written in a long time.

From a purely technical standpoint, the writing put into the novel is nothing short of awe-inspiring. Marisha Pessl’s prose is unrelenting, and she pulls off turns of phrases as very few others can. The least of her skill can be seen in the surprising ways she weaves idioms/metaphors together to make otherwise dry portions of the narrative brim with energy. The best of her talents are made manifest in her ability to inject scenes with a torrent of emotion. Naysayers need only peruse the poignant speech at the novel’s conclusion — who else could make such a succinct point by referring to goldfish? — to concede that this is true.

Much like the titles constituting the “course outline” that make up its chapters, Special Topics in Calamity Physics should be required reading for both the casual reader and aspiring writer alike. As novels go, it is very intelligent entertainment that will likely resonate with audiences in generations to come.

Finding a good book on heady topics such as mathematics or science is no mean feat. Often, books on the subjects are either too technical that they themselves require a strong background in the field just to understand them, or sacrifice too much content in an attempt to become accessible to the casual reader. As such, any book that manages to demistify the complex concepts behind these subjects without lacking in depth categorically must be a gem.

In search of light yet substantial reading on probability, I thought — nay, hoped — that Michael and Ellen Kaplan’s Chances Are…(Adventures in Probability), would be that gem. Sad to say, it wasn’t; but not for lack of trying on the authors’ part.

The trouble with Chances Are is that it is, depending on how one looks at it, only tangentially about probability. Yes, many of the key concepts surrounding statistics and probability are covered and their origins discussed. Yet in the desire to present a manuscript about “adventures in probability”, the authors have put together a narrative that, while interesting, is also obtuse and long-winded. As such, the book comes across more like a reader on the applications of thinking in probabilistic terms in the context of specific issues (see below), many of which, ironically, can be dissected more simply without the very discussion on probability that is the book’s raison d’etre.

Chances Are is divided into several chapters that give the authors occasion to elucidate upon the important applications of probabilistic reasoning. In terms of what one would expect from a book on the subject, the strongest of these are the insightful introduction that sets the tone for the overall piece (”Einstein famously remarked that he did not believe God would play dice with the Universe,” the Kaplans write, “The probabilistic reply is that perhaps the universe is playing dice with God.”), as well as a thoroughly entertaining chapter on gambling, certainly the most natural topic to cover in any discussion on probability. The rest of the book may be said to go steadily downhill from there.

Downhill, that is, for the reader looking for a solid non-textbook on the nuts and bolts of probability theory. That Chances Are isn’t, mostly because from a broader perspective there is no sense that the book makes for an organic whole. One might say this is due to the authors’ writing style: they inject unnecessary erudition into the text at largely inopportune moments to the point that the discussions come across as forced, perhaps even pretentious. For instance, there is a terrible chapter on “Fighting” that attempts to present rudimentary game theory in probabilistic terms only to end up being quite convoluted. Notwithstanding these excesses, there are nuggets of wisdom to be gleaned from the book when each chapter is considered on its own. By way of example, a chapter on “Healing” that discusses health care and medicinal trials is actually quite engaging (particularly if one has an interest in econometrics), and there is a truly thoughtful chapter on “Judging” that goes through how probability should and shouldn’t factor into legal decisions. But to pick up the book and expect more than missives peppered with some thoughts on probability is a formula ripe for disappointment.

In many ways, the book suffers from the inherent problem of its subject: probability tends to be difficul to grasp, often relegated to second-class status even as a tool of analysis. As the authors themselves point out, the human mind seems to be wired to think more in terms of absolutes; uncertainties — and what is probability if not a science of uncertainty — tend to be a tad unnerving. Yet the authors fall into the very trap they seek to overcome: if Chances Are shows anything, it is that thinking probabilistically can sometimes be more trouble then its worth, that there are simpler ways to go about solving problems even if these are less accurate (though that is a conclusion that cries out for some probabilistic analysis; but I digress).

The sobering conclusion is thus that the book simply does not quite live up to what the authors evidently have meant for it to be. This is especially true given the obvious effort to explain otherwise complex statistical concepts that somehow falls short of being satisfying (there’s also no list of references or footnotes throughout the text; a shame, that). On its own merits, Chances Are will perhaps appeal more to liberal arts majors with rusty math skills and who enjoy a good yarn, but not so much to those seeking a straightforward book on probability albeit couched in layman’s terms.

I bought my brother an Onyx Nintendo DS Lite as a graduation present. Yet to keep him grounded — that is to say, partly in jest — I also bought him a copy of Final Fantasy Fables: Chocobo Tales so the incoming college freshman would have something moderately embarrasing with which to put the machine through its paces. What else can one expect from a game revolving around the Final Fantasy series’ most harmless of creatures, obviously targeted towards younger gamers and designed to be so painfully cute? A whole lot more, it turns out, than meets the eye.

Chocobo Tales is really a collection of minigames strung together by a storyline somewhere between unremarkable and amusing. It is unremarkable because, without going into detail, there really isn’t much that can be done with a Chocobo as protagonist no matter how die-hard a fan of Final Fantasy one happens to be. On the other hand, there is amusement in the storyline with its retelling of some notable children’s fairy tales using creatures that hail from the worlds of Final Fantasy (particularly the summon spells). Hence, there can be no denying that the game is intended for younger audiences, who ironically may miss the point if they aren’t that familiar with any one of the now twelve installments of the acclaimed role-playing franchise.

Having said that, what prevents me from writing Chocobo Tales off as yet another shameful attempt by a video game company to cash in with a spinoff are the minigames that push the story along. Truth be told, a good many of them are actually a lot of fun, owing mostly to the variety of challenges that the creative minds over at Square-Enix have concocted: anything from variations on rhythm, puzzle and more action-oriented games, up to and including the card battle system that is used during boss battles (simple enough for children to comprehend, but engaging enough for more experienced gamers to try their hand at). These take full advantage of the DS stylus-based controls, which makes for very involved gameplay.

Interestingly, the game does have some built-in replay value given the difficulty of some minigames. There are unlockables based on points achieved through these challenges, meaning that players can spend time on end just working a task to perfection. Apart from this, while I haven’t seen what the Wi-Fi functionality of Chocobo Tales has to offer, based on personal experience there’s already plenty of gaming to go around just by passing on the DS from person to person to see who can do better at which minigame (or, more to the point, who can actually complete that one that has everyone stumped). In this manner, getting through the game can be as much a group as an individual experience, and is perhaps a great way for parents to take an interest in what their kids are playing.

From a technical standpoint, the game lives up to the quality that has come to be expected of Square-Enix. The graphics in particular are quite stunning for the handheld, and resemble the charming style used in Nintendo’s Paper Mario series. If there is any giveaway that this is a game meant for children, the graphics alone should be it. But buyer beware: beneath its bright and colorful exterior lies a deviously crafted video game that even an eager college freshman and jaded graduate student may find too irresistible to pass up.

(For the curious, the “first” installment of Random Travel Notes is here.)

Locally, in Europe. Going on tour usually involves being shown the sights by a local guide. While touring Switzerland, Bavaria and Austria, we ended up with a British tour director and a coach driver hailing from Luxembourg. In short, neither were “local” to any of the places we visited, at least in the usual sense of the word. Something tells me there’s an insightful commentary on the global community and European transnationalism crying out to be written here.

Love the Euro. Being my first trip to Europe since the Euro became a paper currency I must say I’m very impressed. Having a common medium of exchange greatly simplifies matters for travelers, especially when the trip involves passing through several countries in as many days. In the academe debates have been raging as to whether Europe’s present is Asia’s future, at least in economic (read: currency) terms. I think there are enough practical reasons to hope that this will indeed be the case. (Then again, it is already possible to pay one’s way in some Asian countries, such as Vietnam and Cambodia, entirely in dollars. But that’s another story for another day.)

Size vs. Smoke. Based on armchair observation, there appear to be more overweight Americans than Europeans. On the other hand, Europeans do love to light up more, with Europe seemingly less progressive where banning smoking in public places is concerned. This just goes to show that while one continent struggles with obesity and heart ailments, another must confront the realities of lung cancer and respiratory disease. Which species dies out first, only time will tell.

Ice, Anyone? Another armchair observation: Europeans don’t generally take their softdrinks (or water) with ice, at least not in the copious amounts that usually accompany beverages in Manila or the US. From personal experience, such beverages are typically served chilled, and when one asks for ice either none or very little is available. I think there is a cultural explanation for this: as wine or beer are the staple accompaniments to meals in the societies in question, and neither is typically served with ice, it stands to reason that other beverages won’t be served with ice either by force of habit.

Canned Good. It turns out that canned “Vienna Sausage” actually tastes reasonably like the real deal. Strange, but true.

“When in Roam.” It’s funny, but Europe is one of those places where it’s sometimes quicker to get from one country to another by briefly passing through a third. Now since the our mobile phones were set for international roaming, this led to a chorus of messages coming in each time we’d be within a different country’s territory (no matter how briefly while in transit), informing us that we’d been logged on to the local service provider. In at least one instance, we each received around fifteen of such messages in as many minutes precisely because we were just “passing through”, and some of these “welcome” messages were redundant as we’d ended up back in the country where we began, albeit somewhere different.

Philippine Customs. The Philippine Customs Declaration form for disembarking passengers is at best an inconvenience and at worst an embarrasing reminder of how backward and illogical our laws and lawmakers are. To begin with, the latest version of the form comes with a dizzying list of instructions and information far too long and complicated for weary travelers to fill out. More, reading through these gives the impression that the government intends to levy duties on anyone bringing in each and every little thing bought abroad. Worse, some of the instructions just can’t hold up against the litmus test of common sense. For instance, it would appear that “immoral” and “offensive” items are prohibited in the Philippines, without saying what would constitute something “immoral” or “offensive”, nor according to whom (a can of worms on its own). Also, there is a requirement that anyone removing Php10,000 in monetary instruments from the Philippines must first obtain permission from the proper authorities. Sensible? Well, only until one realizes that Php10,000 is roughly worth only around US$200.

Politically Incorrect Tourist Joke. As told to us: An American tourist in Britain has the misfortune of needing to relieve himself but is unable to find a restroom. Desperate, he steals away to a secluded alley to do his thing, but before nature can take its course a police officer happens by and accosts him:

“Just what do you think you’re doing?”

“Please, sir. I’m just a tourist. I can’t find a restroom and I need to go really badly.”

“Is that so? You’re American, eh? Follow me.”

The tourist manages to hold it together and dutifully follows in the policeman’s footsteps. After going a short distance and taking in several twists and turns, the policeman takes the tourist through a gate to a beautiful, clean and finely manicured garden. The tourist is stunned. The policeman thereafter instructs the tourist to go ahead with his business, discretely walking a few yards away to wait.

The tourist, so relieved, thereafter catches up with the policeman.

“Thanks a lot!” he says. “This is amazing! I never would’ve thought you guys would have places like this. If you don’t mind, could you tell me what you call this place if I’m ever in a similar emergency?”

“That place, sir,” replied the policeman, “is called the French Embassy.”

Here’s the usual rundown of the movies I caught on my various flights (that I hadn’t seen in theaters):

Rocky Balboa. This one should fall into the category of “what-you-see-is-what-you-get”. The movie is definitely Sylvester Stallone’s love letter to the franchise that earned him an academy award nomination, and despite having a little too much going on it does manage to build on years’ worth of Rocky’s story to make for a fitting capstone to the series. While a tad predictable, all it takes is for the theme music to begin playing in order to remember why Rocky was a good flick once upon a time.

Wild Hogs. I’m glad I never caught this in theaters (and to think I actually wanted to). Despite a decent cast, the story — and thereby, the comedy — just fall somewhat flat, even for a movie that at face value demands setting low expectations. It does have its moments, and William H. Macy was probably the most hilarious of the bunch, but there’s a whole lot more that could’ve been done with the movie given the people who were involved.

Shooter. Overall, a decent action movie ruined by a thoroughly unsatisfying ending. For the most part, the movie follows the usual genre formula: hero is wrongly accused of crime and must battle against impossible odds to clear his name. Unfortunately, it would appear that the writers decided that was much too predictable and opted to throw in a twist to the story towards the very end. On balance, this a.) makes little sense and b.) destroys whatever sympathy the audience has for the would-be hero. Methinks this is a textbook case of how trying to be different just doesn’t work (either that or the writers themselves had no idea how to give the story some closure). That aside, Mark Wahlberg does manage to offer yet another good performance.

The Astronaut Farmer. Not too bad, mainly because of the solid performance by headliners Billy Bob Thornton and Virginia Madsen as well as the way the film was directed. Although the buzz around the movie was that it would make for family friendly viewing, I would think younger audiences would find it a somewhat boring and more sophisticated audiences will find trouble suspending their disbelief. Still, for those who fall in between (or can manage to adopt the mindset of those who would), there’s decent entertainment to be had from this otherwise well-made film.

Marie Antoinette. While not exactly my cup of tea, I must concede that it was quite interesting to watch despite lacking a plot (and perhaps a point). Unsure as I am about the film’s historical accuracy, depicting the much-reviled French Queen as the equivalent of a present-day paparazzi-beseiged celbrity, albeit tied to prevailing cultural norms, does make a lot of sense. Also, while utterly unbelievable as a once-pregnant woman, it turns out that Kirsten Dunst delivers an otherwise remarkable performance and is not at all miscast.

Children of Men. There are two things going for this film: that Alfonso Cuarón directed it and it’s an intriguing (possibly even original) apocalyptic scenario for the human race. The obvious social commentary on immigration is a bit overdrawn, and it is hard to understand how society could become so screwed up owing to the inexplicable infertility of the human race (unless one suspends disbelief — not at all easy to do in the context of the film). Assuming that the ride is more important than the destination it is very entertaining in its own right, though admittedly a smidgen too dark for my taste.

Starter for 10. An exceedingly charming pseudo-romantic comedy cum coming of age film. It’s almost the British equivalent to Loser, but much more interesting and serious. Neither quite as brilliant as About a Boy nor Love Actually (because, let’s face it, those are difficult to top!), it’s nonetheless a movie in the same spirit. It also contains one of the best scenes to make audiences cringe in their seats as I have seen in a long time. I highly recommend this one.

PLANES

Depreciation. On my flight to Europe, I noticed a plaque in the cabin that indicated the vessel’s name: “The City of Calgary”. It never occurred to me that the planes of commmercial airliners would have individual names, given the size of their fleets. It also never occurred to me how old many of these planes must be: apart from the name, the plaque also indicated that the plane was christened in 1989, nearly twenty years ago! I suppose it can’t be helped given the cost of the investment, but the fact that cars break down (sometimes fatally) in a fraction of that time doesn’t inspire much confidence. (Then again, on my flight back from Europe, I ended up on what seemed to be a brand spanking new 777. So I guess the law of averages can work in one’s favor.)

Airplane food. Seated in the row behind me on the flight were three women from the same family. It was easy to tell they were related: not only did grandmother, woman and daughter look alike, but they were shaped alike as well: all of them were, shall we say, quite healthy. When the flight attendant came by to serve the token meal, one of the women asked what food was available. The flight attendant replied that it was a choice between some vegetarian pasta or a chicken dish. True to form, the three women replied emphatically in unison: “Chicken!”

Pit Crew. My flight back to Manila included an hour-long technical stop at Vancouver airport, during which time ongoing passengers had to remain onboard due to security reasons. While waiting, ground staff boarded to service the plane. As I marveled at the speed and efficiency with which they went about their task, it dawned on me that each and every one of those servicing my section of the cabin was Filipino. How about that?

TRAINS

Honesty. There’s one thing in common with the tram system in Zurich, the train system in Amsterdam, and the subway system in Vienna: each seems to operate according to an honesty system. True, tickets are sold and theoretically need to be validated, but from the look of things nothing prevents a commuter from riding on the cheap. Our tickets were never checked each time we rode, and I for one never spied any of the locals with tickets in hand at the station. True, we might have just missed spot checks (if any), and it’s possible that the locals had passes that needn’t be validated before every trip, but it does make me wonder just how many people actually get away with free rides, considering how everything in Europe is quite expensive.

AUTOMOBILES

Country Roads. The tour we signed up on was called Country roads of Switzerland, Bavaria and Austria. While we thoroughly enjoyed the trip, little did we realize getting into it that by “coutry roads” the tour operator meant exactly that: perhaps exactly half our time on tour was spent on a bus travelling from one place to another. It was a matter of breadth versus depth: visiting many places and seeing a bit of each instead of holing up in one location and exploring all it has to offer. As a consequence, not only did we see the sights, but we really did see a lot of the country road, and quite literally at that.

Ready, Set, Snooze…. Addendum to the above: we saw enough country roads while we were awake. One side-effect of being bused from location to location like sheep was falling asleep on cue anytime the drive would get underway. I’m beginning to think it’s a genetic trait, because it appears the four of us would sleep and wake up with amazing synchronicity.

BOATS, TOO!

Canals. It’s inevitable to go around Amsterdam via one of the many boat taxis or tours through the city’s canals. After spending two weeks around glacial waters, it’s pretty obvious that the murky waters are quite dirty. In spite of this, it’s remarkable that the waters do not smell.

Beep! Beep! There’re lots of bicycles in Amsterdam, both on land and in the water. Tourists can also rent pedal boats called Canal Bikes to navigate the canals at their leisure. Apparently, this can cause similar traffic problems as on the road: While on one of the canal boats, there were two women on a canal bike perhaps 150 meters ahead that began to veer slowly into our path as we approached, further slowing us down. How to get out of this situation? Typical: blow a loud horn! That’s exactly what our boat captain did, which got the said bike out of our way.

Switzerland

Switzerland certainly comes across as a nice, albeit stiff, place to visit. On the minus side, the people are a tad uptight. On the plus side, the country does have an exceedingly majestic ambience, being surrounded by the Alps and all.

Our visit to Switzerland involved a stay in Zurich, a night at St. Moritz (hey, it’s off season!), and a couple of days at Lucerne. If there’s anything that made its impression on me, it’s how amazingly clean their waters are. The rivers, lakes and streams throughout the nation hold glacial water that is unbelievably clear and has a mint-green hue to it. After seeing that, I now appreciate Evian that much more (and yes, I realize that Evian isn’t a Swiss product, but the point is the same).

Another interesting observation is the Euro’s place in the Swiss economy, at least at the “grassroots” level. Switzerland isn’t an European Union nation, so it retains the Swiss Franc (CHF) as its currency. However, stores and restaurants can convert one’s bill to the equivalent amount in Euros. There are limits, though: usually patrons can only pay in Euro bills and not coins, and almost always the change will be in CHF. All the same, it’s very convenient to the weary traveler.

On our penultimate day in Switzerland we had a morning trip to Mt. Pilatus via the world’s steepest cogwheel railway. It so happened that the weather wasn’t cooperating that day, and it was snowing at the very top (so, really, there was no view to behold). While this had the unintended consequence of coating the peaks in a beautiful sheet of white, it was very, very cold. The irony was not lost on me: after spending the semester hating the extended New York winter, there I was running headfirst into the snow.

Oh, on the culinary side, it turns out that Switzerland has the best rosti — basically hashed brown potatos — that I have ever tasted.

Lichtenstein

This would be the principality in question. It turns out that Lichtenstein is quite literally its own little kingdom right between Austria (with which it has a border) and Switzerland (with which it doesn’t).

In an attempt to emphasize how small Lichtenstein is, our tour director began giving routine facts and figures about the principality. For instance, it turns out that the country is represented overseas by Switzerland and has also adopted the CHF as its currency. She also mentioned that Lichtenstein is a tax haven, with a very low income tax (around 1% or so) and purportedly no inflation (which must be one of those tidbits that governments conjure up to sound interesting, because this cannot be the case). When she mentioned that the unemployment rate was only 2%, I jokingly commented that must mean that all but three people have no jobs.

The amusing highlight of our one-hour stop at Lichstenstein was getting our passports stamped. Because we entered through Switzerland, there was no immigration officer to deal with in order to get this done. Rather, this involved queueing up a tourist office kiosk and paying CHF 2 per passport. It’s a very touristy thing to do, but it’s only after the fact that I considered how funny this was: the stamp in question is clearly labeled “Lichtenstein Tourist Office”, which in the grand scheme of things doesn’t mean a single thing!

Germany

Along the way we visited all of two places in Germany: we spent a night in Munich and another at a town called Oberammergau. We didn’t spend much time in either location as we were basically in transit; the German leg of our trip was mostly to view a couple of the castles that King Ludwig II of Bavaria had built. One of these was Neuschwanstein Castle, regarded as the inspiration for Disney’s Cinderella castle.

As an aside, it turns out that Oberammergau is renown for staging a famous passion [of the Christ] play every ten years. I can’t help but wonder how this compares with the holy week activities that take place in the Philippines.

Austria

Highlights from the Austrian part of the tour included stops in Innsbruck, Salzburg, and of course Vienna.

I’ve heard that there’s a growing section of the tourist industry that involves visiting locations used in famous movies. “Famous” usually connotes some Hollywood blockbuster (and I can just imagine the tourism that New Zealand must be getting from Lord of the Rings alone). I never thought I’d end up on such a tour, but being in Salzburg we couldn’t help but sign up for an excursion to see some of the sights used from The Sound of Music. Something tells me I should feel slightly pathetic for actually enjoying that, but hey, I grew up watching that film and still quite like it.

But no, we didn’t break out into song.

An interesting thing happened for our two-night stay in Vienna. Our tour group was billetted in the Vienna Hilton, which was fully booked with some major business conference or another. As such, when our tour director began handing our our keys, she informed us that we would be spending the night in a suite. Being a family of four, we didn’t think much of this: by “suite”, we had assumed what she was referring to was a “larger than average” room.

Instead, we lucked out and ended up with the hotel’s presidential suite. At no extra cost.

“Big” doesn’t do justice to the suite: it was huge. It had two separate rooms, two and a half bathrooms, a large foyer, a conference room and kitchen. Easily, the floor area was approximately the six- to eight-times the size of my New York apartment. Suffice it to say that were were very shocked at our good fortune, so much so that we spent our first fifteen minutes there just taking pictures of ourselves in the suite (I won’t bother posting these; suffice it to say that even my family has its moments of weakness).

Naturally, while in Austria we couldn’t help but take in a few cultural shows, and it turns out that yodeling and accordions aren’t as bad as they’re made out to be. I still wonder, however, what it is about being stuck in and around mountains that possessed these people to ever begin yodeling…

Finally, a culinary anecdote: while having dinner at the hotel, I ordered a dish described as “Austrian beef stew with creamed spinach”. I have a thing for creamed spinach (of the variety one gets at a New York steakhouse) and seldom object to beef, so the entreé was the logical choice. When it arrived, with the creamed spinach on the side, it tasted just like nilagang baka, and would have been exactly that if the broth were heated to near boiling hot. Funny how I’d go all the way to Austria to have the first nilaga I’ve eaten in months.

Slovenia

Since we were already in Austria, we had an opportunity to take a day tour to Slovenia. There was one problem: while Slovenia is a European Union nation, it’s not covered by the Schengen accord and thus our visas wouldn’t allow us entry to the country even if we tried.

As such, we made the effort to get a Slovenian visa while we were in Austria, an endeavor that took up the better part of a day. We managed to make it to the embassy with literally minutes to spare before it closed for visa processing in the morning. I presume we must have looked like the strangest group of people asking for a visa: we hadn’t filled out any forms, had no ID pictures for the visa, and actually weren’t sure when the Slovenian trip would be taking place (we just knew it was either the next day or the day after that). Fortunately, the consular officer, though gruff, was able to overlook these shortcomings and overcome his misgivings and issued our visas later that afternoon.

Ironically, the visas cost more than the excursion. Then again, when will we ever have the chance to go to Slovenia?

When all was said and done, we enjoyed a pleasant afternoon around scenic Lake Bled.

Italy

Our tour featured a drive through the Dolomites. On the whole, this mountain range is not nearly as awe-inspiring as the Alps (glacial peaks beat limestone anyday), but does evoke an altogether different sense of majesty. That is, if one can get over staring at yet more rocks.

Because of this part of the trip, we found ourselves in Bolzano, Italy. Apparently, Bolzano is one place with its own little identity crisis: if I understood correctly, Bolzano was originally German then was annexed by Italy, all the while retaining a reasonably heavy Austrian influence.

At this point in our journey, tired with continental European fare, we ditched dinner with our tour group in favor of a meal at a local Chinese restaurant…that also happened to be a pizzeria.

Amsterdam

Following the tour, we spent three nights on our own in Amsterdam.

Upon arrival, my mom and I walked over to our hotel’s concierge to ask what we might be able to do later in the evening so as to maximize our limited time in the city. After giving our query some thought, he pulled out a tour brochure, leafed through it and said “Well, you can catch a tour of the red light district!”. My mom, nonplussed, replied to this “No. We have two young boys with us.”

This taught me three things:

First, one can’t help but admire how Amsterdam has taken prostitution and turned it into, shall we say, a cultural experience.

Second, no matter how old children get — I’m 27, my brother’s practically 18 — their parents will always think of them as too young for certain things. (When I heard my mom’s response to the concierge, I wanted to retort “What do you mean ‘two young boys’? There’s just one and a half!”).

Third, Amsterdam is not the place to visit with one’s parents. No, siree.

Anyway, while we were there we took an afternoon to visit two museums. Both were undergoing renovations, but the main attractions were still on display. The Rijksmuseum featured mostly Rembrandts, particularly the Nightwatch, which is every bit as incredible as it looks in art books. A stone’s throw away was the Van Gogh museum, which has a very well thought-out exhibit of Van Gogh’s works arranged in chronological order and organized to tell the story of his life. This latter one was particularly enjoyable, as I’ve seen Starry Night here at New York’s Museum of Modern Art (where it’s on permanent display).

All things considered, the musem visits were probably the cheapest things we had to pay for. But I liked these the best. This tells me I have an affinity for museums or historical locations more than sightseeing for sightseeing’s sake.

* * *

Having done all that, it’s hard to believe I’ve only been away for seventeen days!