Looks like the global economic crisis is wrapping up. East Asia is doing a lot of the work in making that happen. And now is still probably a good time to buy strong next generation tech stocks- Apple alone has gone up over 30% in the last few months, and Google's looking real good too. Now's the time people! Invest!
Thursday, May 28, 2009
the world as seen through the eyes of an amateur investor
Looks like the global economic crisis is wrapping up. East Asia is doing a lot of the work in making that happen. And now is still probably a good time to buy strong next generation tech stocks- Apple alone has gone up over 30% in the last few months, and Google's looking real good too. Now's the time people! Invest!
Monday, May 18, 2009
Day Six in Andhra Pradesh
I woke up to a phone ringing at 6am this morning, as I have most mornings this week. Sometimes the call is earlier, later, doesn’t come at all, or in the case of this morning, the sleepy young man inexplicably rings one minute after the 6:00 call to say “Hello.” “Hello again”, I respond. “It’s 6:01 sir.” “Thank you?” “You're welcome sir.”
A few leftover scraps of butter nan and empty bottles of Thums Up cola litter the hotel room Taylor and I share. Last night we played cards and ordered room service, the night before we watched a lightning storm knock out the city’s power from the hotel rooftop.
We gather in the hotel lobby at 6:30am and board a rented tour bus to the village, where a cheering throng of village children greet us every morning. Their stream of delighted energy hits us as strong as a pot of black coffee to the face and continues unabated throughout the day, making it impossible not to return some of the love. We spin them and toss them in the air, play cricket and volleyball and a complex variety of hand games, practice English, recite 1-10 in Telegu or simply provide a climbing structure as we lose the strength to lift them by the end of the day.
The work itself is exhausting, passing cement trays and bricks to form foundations, corner pillars, walls and slabbed roofs. By noon we are soaked in sweat, our clothes filthy with dirt, dried cement and brick dust. A vegetarian lunch and one-hour siesta follow before getting back to work for the cooler afternoon work session. At dusk we eat dinner, play with the kids and unwind, pleasantly exhausted, having shared and accomplished a very tangible goal for the day. The bus ride back provides an opportunity to mitigate the profound ninety-minute transition from mudflat village to bustling industrial city by playing word games, sharing travel stories or quietly listening to music and processing the last thirteen hours.
Allow me to shed some light on this experience by sharing some fast facts about the Dalit.
1. The Hindu potential of rebirth within a higher caste functions as justification for keeping the Atai Shudra (Untouchables; slaves) subjugated throughout their lifetime.
2. In addition to being physically separated from the rest of society, in the economic sphere Dalits are explicitly restricted to a few undesirable trades. In the traditional regions of India, only Dalits (still) do leather tanning and shoe-making.
3. Dalit means “broken people” in Sanskrit. They prefer to go by “Shudra”, meaning “lowest caste”.
4. Brahma (God) is synonymous with justice, and Dalits are born believing that their position is sanctioned by transcendent authorities. Not surprisingly, the village we work in and many others are increasingly turning to Christianity instead...
Despite the heavy burdens placed upon Gummallapadu Village, hope exists not only by means of external volunteer efforts, but from the internal resiliency of its citizens and healthy ambitions of its younger members (one of whom will leave in a few weeks to study as a mechanical engineer in Shanghai). Along with the open communication, honesty, and a strong sense of community pervading the village where we did our work, this is proof that beautiful things often grow in harsh environments.
A few leftover scraps of butter nan and empty bottles of Thums Up cola litter the hotel room Taylor and I share. Last night we played cards and ordered room service, the night before we watched a lightning storm knock out the city’s power from the hotel rooftop.
We gather in the hotel lobby at 6:30am and board a rented tour bus to the village, where a cheering throng of village children greet us every morning. Their stream of delighted energy hits us as strong as a pot of black coffee to the face and continues unabated throughout the day, making it impossible not to return some of the love. We spin them and toss them in the air, play cricket and volleyball and a complex variety of hand games, practice English, recite 1-10 in Telegu or simply provide a climbing structure as we lose the strength to lift them by the end of the day.
The work itself is exhausting, passing cement trays and bricks to form foundations, corner pillars, walls and slabbed roofs. By noon we are soaked in sweat, our clothes filthy with dirt, dried cement and brick dust. A vegetarian lunch and one-hour siesta follow before getting back to work for the cooler afternoon work session. At dusk we eat dinner, play with the kids and unwind, pleasantly exhausted, having shared and accomplished a very tangible goal for the day. The bus ride back provides an opportunity to mitigate the profound ninety-minute transition from mudflat village to bustling industrial city by playing word games, sharing travel stories or quietly listening to music and processing the last thirteen hours.
Allow me to shed some light on this experience by sharing some fast facts about the Dalit.
1. The Hindu potential of rebirth within a higher caste functions as justification for keeping the Atai Shudra (Untouchables; slaves) subjugated throughout their lifetime.
2. In addition to being physically separated from the rest of society, in the economic sphere Dalits are explicitly restricted to a few undesirable trades. In the traditional regions of India, only Dalits (still) do leather tanning and shoe-making.
3. Dalit means “broken people” in Sanskrit. They prefer to go by “Shudra”, meaning “lowest caste”.
4. Brahma (God) is synonymous with justice, and Dalits are born believing that their position is sanctioned by transcendent authorities. Not surprisingly, the village we work in and many others are increasingly turning to Christianity instead...
Despite the heavy burdens placed upon Gummallapadu Village, hope exists not only by means of external volunteer efforts, but from the internal resiliency of its citizens and healthy ambitions of its younger members (one of whom will leave in a few weeks to study as a mechanical engineer in Shanghai). Along with the open communication, honesty, and a strong sense of community pervading the village where we did our work, this is proof that beautiful things often grow in harsh environments.
home/sickness
I'm now on my 6th day home sick from work after returning from India. Nothing serious, and I'll be back at work tomorrow, but I've had an expansive amount of down time to listen to music, read, watch movies and tv shows, eat cereal and make cocoa, do those kinds of things. In spite of the heroic bacterial war being fought in my intestines it's been pretty nice to sit around and unwind.
Unfortunately this all means I've been fully immersing myself in American creature comforts for the past week. A few minutes ago "Hate It or Love It" by 50 Cent came on the tail of a long progression of other random songs chosen by shuffle on iTunes which formed the secret combination of emoti-musical stimuli that would trigger a chain reaction of fond Seattle summer memories, evoking a cresting wave of homesickness from deep within me that rose high over my head, paused a moment for me to consider my reflection standing under it here in Japan, and then sort of knocked me flat.
As a man I'm not expected to focus on or talk about my emotions too much (I've been thinking more about such things since reading Jeffrey Eugenides' "Middlesex", highly recommended), but when I closed my eyes to envision driving south on I-5 into the city with the windows down and 95.7 up on one of those rare blue-skied Seattle days where the Columbia Center gleams on the horizon next to the looming majesty of Rainier and the trees lining the highway seem too vividly green to be real and you come around that last bend in the road and see Elliot Bay and the Puget Sound sweeping out in front of you... as I did again now when writing it, I opened my eyes to find a tear or two in them and felt a little empty space inside carved out by memories of home. For real.
Thank you, 50 Cent, for helping me to explore my emotions as a man.
Unfortunately this all means I've been fully immersing myself in American creature comforts for the past week. A few minutes ago "Hate It or Love It" by 50 Cent came on the tail of a long progression of other random songs chosen by shuffle on iTunes which formed the secret combination of emoti-musical stimuli that would trigger a chain reaction of fond Seattle summer memories, evoking a cresting wave of homesickness from deep within me that rose high over my head, paused a moment for me to consider my reflection standing under it here in Japan, and then sort of knocked me flat.
As a man I'm not expected to focus on or talk about my emotions too much (I've been thinking more about such things since reading Jeffrey Eugenides' "Middlesex", highly recommended), but when I closed my eyes to envision driving south on I-5 into the city with the windows down and 95.7 up on one of those rare blue-skied Seattle days where the Columbia Center gleams on the horizon next to the looming majesty of Rainier and the trees lining the highway seem too vividly green to be real and you come around that last bend in the road and see Elliot Bay and the Puget Sound sweeping out in front of you... as I did again now when writing it, I opened my eyes to find a tear or two in them and felt a little empty space inside carved out by memories of home. For real.
Thank you, 50 Cent, for helping me to explore my emotions as a man.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)