Raoul and the YYM in Seattle

So, long-time KPC friend Raoul was kind enough to visit with the YYM in Seattle. Went to dinner, and showed the youngster around the docks a bit. Seattle is certainly a beautiful place.

YYM is out there for the summer, working in a Duke Engage gig.  Duke Engage is interesting, one of the nice things about a Duke degree....

La Mar

Okay, so I said no more sunrises. But this is a sunset:

Dined last night at La Mar, with Juan Pablo and new shining star Congressman Ernesto Silva. Very interesting talking with Ernesto. I learned a lot.

La Mar, as before, was remarkable. The cebiche...astonishing. By far the best I have ever had. Erizos....mmmmmmm....erizos.

Joshua Bell, Free and Clear

An interesting story. And the Snopes commentary is also interesting.

For my own part, I know I can tell the difference between a $3 bottle of wine and a $10 bottle of wine, but I have very little chance of distinguishing a $15 bottle of wine from a $70 bottle of wine.

And I usually stop to listen to musicians in the subway, and leave a buck. Perhaps because I can't tell the difference.

(Nod to the LMM)

Futbol

Futbol! We went to see Colo-Colo. Big. After about 20 minutes, I wanted to buy a CD of their fan-songs, so I could burn it. I am not a Colo-Colino, it appears. Still, beautiful. Here was the view from our seats (click on picture to embiggen). And here is a short movie, so you can hear the horrible "songs." Made me long for vuvuzelas. Almost.



Oh, and the game. The Colo-Colos scored on their first possession, in the first minute (!) and then again in the 90th minute. Roberto Cereceda got the big rojo in the 55th minute, and Colo-Colos played a man down from there. The O'Higgins lads were just demoralized, always a step slow and consistently losing every header or contested ball. The O'Higgins fellows did have one clear breakaway, on the left side with only the goalie to beat, but the player inexplicably passed it instead of shooting, and they lost the chance. Couldn't score, or even threaten, even though they were playing 11 on 10, after the red card. Here is the O'Higgins web site.

(If O'Higgins sounds like a strange name for a soccer team, it's a funny name for anything. Bernardo O'Higgins is THE primary signer of the Chilean Declaration of Independence. So he is called "El Libertador." He was Irish on his father's side (Ambrosio O'Higgins) and Basque on his mother's side (his father and mother were never married, at least not to each other....) But at first he was pretty much just declaring independence from France and his mother; he was 30 and getting sick of getting bossed around. When Napolean kidnapped and imprisoned el Rey de Espana, Bernardo had himself declared the second "Supreme Director" of Chile, and then declared independence from France, which controlled Spain, in the name of the King of Spain. So the "independence" was really an assertion of the rights of the King of Spain to control Chile, rather than the French. Stirring words, huh? They did finally declare a more traditional independence, after O'Higgins let/ordered (not clear) some of his boys execute Jose Miguel Carrera, apparently because they could. He was no Thomas Jefferson, but when it comes to liberty in Latin America you take what you can get, I suppose)

Santa Rita Winery

Juan Pablo drove us out to the Santa Rita winery today, near Buin, south of Santiago.

Got there, went on a tour, then had a simply amazing lunch. Early in the tour we walked past some of the vineyards. Inside the actual bodegas, which are huge, it's pretty dark. The best quality "Reserva" bottles are stacked this way both to preserve the corks and to keep them safe(r) in case of earthquake. The most recent earthquake broke a lot, but SR is back in business now. This is a picture of the oak barrels for the first aging, before the bottles. The pic is a little blurry, because I shut the shutter to 1.5 seconds because it was so dark.
We got the EYM some sporty bike gloves, because the crutches were giving him blisters.
The room where we had lunch is spectacular. It is the Dona Paula restaurant.

We were hungry. And, then, we weren't. Tremendous food. Kevin and I split a lobster appetizer, and then I had bistec a la pobre. Then dessert. Then we staggered outside for espresso, and to make this movie.

Then we went to the Museo Andino, which was the collection of pre-Columbian and more recent artifacts of the previous owner of SR. A big day in the Maipo Valley.

At the office....

There is smog and fog this time of year down in the valley. But up here at UDD, it is beautiful, and usually sunny.

The view from my office window (they made me pose here, usually I am in the position of the camera, looking out from my office):
And two of my hosts, Juan Pablo Couyoumdjian and Maria Jose Dominguez, kind enough to pose also. I am apparently somewhat larger than they are.

Mungowitz, Su Hombre en Santiago de Chile

The EYM and I are here for the next month, nearly, in Santiago de Chile.

Got in late this morning, after the overnight ick flight from Atlanta to Santiago.

The intrepid Juan Pablo picked us up at the airport, after it took us 2 hours to get through customs. Chile has a rule that they charge visitors the same charge for a "reciprocity" visa that those countries charge Chilenos. Thanks, America, for costing me nearly $300 for "reciprocity," just to enter the country.

Chile is also really paranoid about bringing in food items. So I asked the EYM to make sure that he didn't have any opened food containers, or plant matter, in his luggage. He says, "What about this?"

He holds up a big sandwich baggie full of creamy white powder. He sees the look on my face, and says "What? It's protein powder. Is that bad?" I tell him to throw that away, right away, and walk away quickly. I do NOT want to try to explain to Chilean Customs why we need to bring 100 grams of white powder into the country.

The lines are long, but they move along. When we got to the hotel (Apart Hotel, La Gloria 30, Las Condes), I noticed I was missing....MY BACKPACK! The one that had my laptop, books, and myriad "things of great importance."

Juan Pablo, by this time having graduated from intrepid up to unflinching, drove me BACK to the airport. (The EYM caught 40 winks in the hotel). We got to the airport, and since I knew where I left the backpack (the x-ray booth at the "Nothing to Declare" desk), we tried to get there. But, of course, you can't get there. At all. You can't go back up the cloaca of the "Arriving International" wing, without getting shot (and rightly so, no complaints). But neither could I get back to the TOP of the International Arrivals digestive system, unless I was arriving on a new international flight.

We knocked on a bunch of doors, and tried to find an official who could help us. After knocking for nearly ten minutes on one promising door (it said, "vacated baggage," in English; don't know what that means, but like I said, promising), an august official of the Chilean PDI appeared. Rather, one of his eyes appeared, behind a crack in the door. Juan Pablo explained. PDI guy looks at me and says, "Passport?" I nod, eagerly.

I am ushered in. Left to stand in a corridor for a few minutes. A second PDI fellow, one who spoke no English, appears and escorts me down a hallway to yet a third PDI guy, one who is so important that I think he actually lives in this underground grotto. PDI 3 begins to speak to me rapidamente en espanol. I try to tell him that I don't speak Spanish (though my "don't speak Spanish" is WAY better than my "don't speak German," from last summer). Then, I SEE MY BACK PACK, ON A SHELF, right behind PDI 3! I point to it, and say "Alla! Es mio, el backpack negro!"

PDI 3 is most skeptical. "Es SUYO? Verdad? (What is in it, he asked, I don't remember the Spanish, but I undestood it.)

I answered: "Libros, papeles, laptop computer..."

PDI 3 is overjoyed: "Libros! Son SUYOS?" Takes one out, and before I can see, covers up the cover completely with both hands: "Este libro, que dice?" (What does it say?)

I can't see the book, because he is hiding it. There are ten books in the pack, and so I just cleverly stare at him bug eyed. At this point, I haven't slept in 28 hours, and this seems surreal. Fortunately, I realize that I had put a name tag, with my ...well... name and address, on the backpack, just like checked baggage, just in case. I point to the tag, and say, "Mira! Mi nombre, Mike Munger, Carolina del Norte, como en el passport."

PDI 3 is pleased: a positive ID. He spends (seriously) at least two minutes comparing the info in my passport (name, address) to the info on the tag (name, address). Then he takes the pack over to a giant desk covered with scraps of paper, and digs around. He finds it: a black notebook with looseleaf paper. The paper is full of rubber bands holding together groups of pages, and paper clips and post it notes. He finds a blank space on a page, and writes laboriously in cursive longhand. I peek, and he is writing down the an inventory of the contents of the backpack. Then he writes down my name, address, and passport number, and draws a line for my signature.

Then he asks me to check the backpack, and make sure that none of the contents had been stolen. I had to pick up each item, tell him that it was in the backpack, and then he checked it off his inventory. But, since his inventory was composed ONLY of those things that were in the pack...you see the problem. Still, okay, we were making progress. After all the items in the backpack were checked off as being in the backpack, I signed with a flourish and thanked the man. He called me "Don Miguel" and wished me "buena suerte" and escorted me to...The Customs Area!

As the door closed behind me, I realized that I did not have the paperwork to get through Customs. I had just BEEN through Customs, 90 minutes earlier, and had handed in my paperwork that had been stamped at Immigration Control. Now, all I had was a passport and a backpack. By this time, the morning rush of international flights that crowd Arturo Moreno Benitez airport had long gone. The huge Customs hall had just me, and about 30 customs agents, all staring at me. The place is well lit, and it's hard to act casual in those circumstances.

I decided to play dumb, and just headed for the door, bypassing everything. One guy asked me to stop, and he came over. I showed him my passport, and said, "I forgot my backpack, and came back to get it." He frowned, pointed at the cloaca, and said (in perfect English) "You came back through there?"

"No, no, I came through the vacated luggage office, there." I pointed at the door right behind me, which was in fact where I had come out, and he had seen that.

He asked if I had the arrival papers, and I told him I had just been through Customs 90 minutes ago, and had just come back to get my backpack. I held out my backpack, as evidence (I'm not sure of what, but evidence).

I was sure that my Chilean Maxwell Smart would sneer, and say, "Oh, the old 'I've already been through Customs' trick. They always try that one!" But no, he just said, "Have a good visit. Make sure you go out the main door."

Back to the hotel, a long nap, and then a fine meal with Juan Pablo and the EYM. On which more anon.

Weiner Dog Diver

Using scuba gear and a wet suit!

A weiner dog is even shaped like a submarine. This is pretty cute: look at the tiny legs on the wet suit. The weight of the tank will keep him upright. Go, Boniface!

Charming

What a remarkable fellow. The first five seconds are hard to beat. He looks a bit like the British goalie in the match with USA.



Now, this is manipulative, and the guy is just trying to make money. That's enough to make me send him some. Well played.

America

From the LMM:

So much less humidity. Sunny, slight cool breeze. Sitting on the porch drinking tea, listening to birds, watching hummingbird.

Last night a firetruck stopped by to drop something of to the subdivision president. Little boy (5) next to our house runs out yelling, fire truck, fire truck! The young volunteer firemen see this, pull down the street with the sirens on, lights flashing, stop in front of the little boys house, one gets out and hands the kid a (plastic) fireman's hat. SOOO cute.

Think sweet thoughts today. You'll feel better.

Goat Spears Weiner

Anonyman just liked the headline. So I'll post the story.

Anthony Weiner has been very busy lately.

Here's Mr. Weiner in a "point your finger and open your mouth contest" (he came in second, because his finger pointing was limp).

With Cochlear Implants, Little Jonathan hears his mama

It's pretty easy to make me cry. This did it. (Nod to the NCM)

YYM at the beach....

If you haven't seen the YYM for a while, that's him on the right.

NC Beaches.... nice.

Tim G is Gone, But Not Forgotten

My friend Tim G, from Erlangen, is now back in Erlangen after a year at Duke.

On his last day in the U.S., I took this photo. You see Tim there in all his facets: a guitar tattoo that would be cheesy on anyone less sincere about rock music, the Buddy Holly glasses (see above), the books (he xeroxed much of the Duke library in his time here). And the earphones, so that he can play Altar or Lacuna Coil at a volume that would hurt the ears of someone at the same table if he were using ear buds. The full headphones keep all that death metal inside, where it belongs. Tim is a POLITE metal freak.

And he is sitting in the sun, in NC. Since he is now back in Germany, he will never see the sun again.

So, Tim: Alles Gute! Herzlichen Glückwunsch!

USA roundup

1. First quarter GDP growth estimated at 3.2%, slightly under the forecasted rate of 3.4%. Consumer spending rose 3.6%. Can you say, "the jobless recovery continues?" Thank you, I knew that you could.

2. The oil spill off the coast of Louisiana is no joke, and it may take months just to cap the well (which is below 5000 feet of water).

3. Gilbert Arenas (still in the halfway house for his "guns in the workplace" issues) is being sued for not paying for "5 custom Berettas with 5 silencers" that he ordered from a high end arms dealer.

4. Bullish on Bush? "I been down so long, it looks like up to me."

Whale-y boy

I wasn't going to touch the whales. I told myself, look, these are wild animals and deserve respect. If they come close to the boat, observe and enjoy, but don't touch.

As a point of reference, there were people on the trip announcing their goal of hugging and kissing a whale!

So the first couple times a baby came close to the boat, I didn't try to touch. On the last afternoon though, a particularly playful baby was romping back and forth between our boat and another while his mom rested nearby. He came up to the front of the boat where I was and tilted his body so he was looking right at me! At that point the thought hit me that the little dude WANTED me to touch him.

So, the next time he came by, I did. Here are some photos taken by someone in the other boat:

In the picture above, that's Mrs. Angus's arm in the red reaching out to touch the calf.

I wouldn't call it a spiritual experience, but it amazed me how these creatures seem to want to interact with humans. Even some adults approached our little boats to be seen and touched. It's even more amazing when you consider that within the lifespan of some living gray whales, there still was whaling going on in this exact spot!

The NY Times Magazine recently had a great story on whales including a description of a trip to Laguna San Ignacio, where Mrs. Angus and I were.

Oh Hi! Got any Fish?

Mrs. Angus and I were amazed and enchanted by the variety of colors and shapes of the harbor seals along the Monterey coastline.

Here is a link to our whale photos from Laguna San Ignacio in Baja Mexico, and here is a link to some more Monterey photos.

Jessica, the Happy Hippo

I got nothing to add. This just made me happy. When the hippo stepped on the poor dog's foot... it just seemed like something that would happen to a family... of dogs and hippos.

Spring break is great for meeting new friends

 

Above is a shot of a gray whale breaching in Laguna San Ignacio. The whale is 40+ feet long, and Mrs. Angus and I are close by in a 20 foot long open fishing boat the locals call a panga! We were about 30 feet away when she busted this move. San Ignacio is reputed to have so called "friendly" whales who will swim right up to a boat and interact with the human occupants. These stories are true as I will show later on with further pictures.

Bananas Foster Hysteria

WPTF poobah, and News and Observer columnist, Rick Martinez is quite a tough guy.
But it turns out you can make him shriek like a baby who has dropped its baba.

Just use Maker's Mark as the flammable in "Bananas Foster."