How a croissant and a tabla can heal the heart of a young engineer.

Since my last post, I have graduated from engineering school and started working at King County as a contract position for the Roads Department. My contract is up February 26th, and now I am about to approach a new chapter in my life. For the last two weeks, I have been freaking out about what I should do after my contract is up. The more I dwell on it, the bigger the storm of possibilities grow in my head, and the more off balance I feel.

Today I decided to go the Bakery Nouveau to work on job apps, resume, research travel opportunities, non-profit start-ups, and many of the other post-King County possibilities that have been scattering around my brain.

I ordered a butter croissant.

I sat down next to the sunny window table, took out my laptop, but then took a bite of the croissant. It just melted in my mouth and I lost complete motivation to work. As I was enjoying this croissant, an older, larger italian man named Raul, came up and asked if he could share my table since the place was bustling about with the Sunday crowd. Without thought, I invited him to sit with me. Raul sat down and took a bite of his butter croissant. He was in complete bliss. A couple minutes passed while we both ate these wonderfully fulfilling croissants until we started talking. At first it was just small talk about the amazing bakery, sunny January weather, and where we were from. But then we started talking about what we did for a living. Raul is a cook, lover of fine art, and is learning how to play the tabla. I am a young engineer, working a 40-hr week in a cubicle, repeating the same calculations hour after hour. I explained my situation of ending my current employment soon and needing to figure out what is next. He patiently listened, and then asked if I had headphones, and wanted to hear what a tabla sounded like as he motioned to his iPod. With a bit of hesitation at the odd request, I decided to pull out my headphones and plug them into his iPod. He played The Beatles, "Within You Without You," which used the tabla as the percussion undertone for the song. The tabla sound reminded me of large water droplets trickling off a flooded gutter in melodic rhythm. The storm in my brain started to settle, and I felt like calm blue skies. It was as if this man knew just what I needed to hear at that very moment.

We continued talking for about an hour on a wide variety of topics, but what resided with me was his advice on my next steps.

"The universe can open many opportunities to you, but it's your heart that leads you."

There are SO many opportunities available at the moment, especially when you are young with not very many responsibilities. You have the power to create your fate, don't be forced into something your heart does not want to do. But don't be afraid to let your experiences mold you.

For me, I already knew this advice, but have I been following it? Yes and no. I am very thankful for all the experiences I have had, even my current job. But I was letting these outside notions of needing employment or even a plan right after my contract is up, fester in my head and make my heart unhappy.  I still don't truly know what I want to do for a career, but I am not going to force myself into a situation if my heart is truly not feeling it.

For what was supposed to be a productive Sunday in terms of job apps, it was a productive Sunday for my mental health and heart.

Seattlelites--please talk to strangers, they may just shed some needed light into your life. Raul--thank you for the wonderful croissant chat this morning, I really needed that.

Taking a break from engineering

I have been a lazy blogger since I have been in Scotland. I am not really sure why, Scotland is terrific! I have had my ups and downs, but I just did not really find it justified to post those moments to the public.

However, hey! I have something to say today! This post is dedicated to my anthropology paper, which I am only 300 words in and should have started it earlier, but also I would like to explain my reasoning for taking an anthropology class as an engineer while abroad. This blog was initiated after my trip to Bolivia with Engineers Without Borders in 2010 because there is more to aid work in developing countries than just the brute aid and financial support. This is why I find anthropology important. Anthropology is the study of humans, human interaction, social history, artifacts, not very engineery. However, anthropology provides us with an opportunity to explore the way other humans around the world work. American aid work has been notorious for raising money for inexperienced aid workers to go to a remote village, build a water pump, feel like they have saved the world, then leave with an awe-inspiring cultural experience. Little did they realize, the pump they built only lasted 3 weeks after they left, none of the locals knew how to fix it, and on top of that, they completely dried up the aquifer residing below their village, which also damaged their agriculture. So which is better: inexperienced aid workers helping a village improve its infrastructure or not helping a starving village at all?

Makes you feel guilty, doesn't it?

I think every aid worker should take a course, join a group in anthropology, or think before they act to sign up for a volunteer project in another country. It gives you an alternative perspective on how much you are actually helping a village and what damage you could inflict.

Back to my paper, I am writing about a specific cultural artifact from Bolivia, a coca bag. Coca is very important in the Andean culture. It promotes good health, wavers hungers, and supplies a bit of energy to keep going through the day. A lot like the way a cup-a-joe is used in America--without it, I am not sure I can go on with my day. I would like to share with you one of my encounters with the locals one day at the job site, when we were collecting rocks to make gabion wall structures.
 

“Collecting large rocks for the drywalls needed in the rural road reconstruction for the last two hours in the hot Bolivian sun, it is time for another coca break with the locals. As an American engineer, I am not used to having five to six coca breaks throughout the day, however these breaks are absolutely necessary in the Quechua culture. Each adult carries a colorful patterned pouch either around his neck or in his belt strap full of dried coca leaves and a paste of vegetable ash.  An elder, missing most of his front teeth and green ooze dripping down the corner of his mouth, offers his coca bag towards me, wanting me to partake in their coca break. He opened his bag and gestured that I take a handful of leaves and a pebble-sized amount of ash. Clueless about how to properly put the coca in my mouth, I timidly placed a few leaves with ash in my mouth and slowly chewed. The locals grinned like they just watched the funniest moment of their day and gestured that I had to take a lot more into my mouth. I stuffed my mouth full of leaves, like a squirrel preparing for winter, and chewed up the leaves until they were a manageable size. This all became increasingly difficult to do because my tongue became numb. The dried coca leaves became a big oozing wad of green juices, and now I was the one with a green-toothed smile.”-July 2010

Coca break with the village workers

I am writing about this because I remember before I became more acclimated to the Bolivian culture, I was frustrated at how many breaks the locals took when there was work to be done under a short time frame. I was absolutely oblivious to this daily routine and thought that they were just getting high on the job for the fun of it. Silly me. On a serious note, they were not getting "high," coca is used among the peasants because it numbs pain, hunger, and provides a little energy to make it through a labor intensive day. By the way, it takes some four hundred pounds of coca leaves to provide a pound of relatively pure cocaine. I was associating this harmless vital cultural experience, with own my tainted cultural views of cocaine in the US.

Anyways, for all you engineers out there, maybe we should initiate coca breaks on job sites--but more importantly, educate yourself outside of math, science, and structural analysis.

W

This is my first time on exchange at a new university. Some of you have studied abroad before and know the ups and downs of the experience. Actually, psychologists have studied this particular phenomena of the "w-curve" for study abroad students and have charted the student's mental state over the the period of time they are there, see Figure 1.

Figure 1: The W-Curve

Currently, I should be somewhere in between the Honeymoon stage or the Follow Up Orientation given my three week mark since my arrival to Scotland. To be honest, I am not following the curve at all... I started out fairly low, done a few loop-de-loops on the honeymoon stage, hit rock bottom, sky-rocketed up off the page, and now I am numb-like a deadbeat graph on a cardiogram. I have hit a few complications in my study abroad experience so far, primarily due to the lack of communication in this education system, but I have overall enjoyed my time here. I have met a few very pleasant people, who have helped me see the shy sunlight of Aberdeen. If I was in Seattle, I am pretty sure my emotions would be identical, even with my host university. The point is, maybe its not the environment that affects me, its just my outlook on a day to day basis.

When you catch me on a high peak, I am on top of the world! It's not that I am actually on top of the world (although I do love my mountain climbing...), but I suppose its just how I rolled out of bed that morning. If you are worried about my mental health, I am fine, I can work through this. The only thing that helps me get healthier and happier is when people support and push me to do the things I need to do.

It's me, not my environment.

Cheers.

In the Highlands

It has been four months since my last blog, four months of tired reality. I had writers block, my life did not seem ever so exciting, and I just kept my thoughts in my head.  However, when's the best time to write publicly so all your loved ones can follow you? When traveling in Scotland!!! Yippee!!! So that's the truth--this blog remains as a traveling blog, however, I will still keep my title, "Existential Engineering" because I am in Scotland for that very purpose...


Things I have learned thus far:
-"Fit Like." C'mon, say it with me... "FIT LIKE" or "Fit Like?" This means, "Como estas?"or "What's up?" Or any other form of greeting you feel fits your mood.
-Cobblestone was invented way before high heels
-They really don't wear anything under those kilts...
-Ultimate Frisbee is a universal way of meeting excellent local people.
-Haggis is quite good--Just don't ask what's in it, as you wouldn't want to know what McDonald's Hamburger meat has in it either.
-Relocating yourself every three months really changes your personality and perspective on your surroundings.

Now, I could go into vast detail about each of those things, but I don't want to take up your precious time belaboring all my thoughts until nonsense. Instead, I want to tell you about a brief moment which occurred in my first week here.

It was my first Thursday, going on my sixth day at the University of Aberdeen. I met with my adviser the previous Sunday to sign up for my classes, which were to befall the follow day. My intent is to take as many courses in global development and a course in coastal engineering if I can at the university, and hope that some of those credits will transfer back towards my Civil Engineering Degree with Global Health minor. After introducing ourselves, the first words out of my advisers mouth was, "The classes you have signed up for will not work, and some are not even offered anymore." Great. I told my advisers at home I would take these classes, they approved them, I was going to get credit while in Scotland, and everything in life would be perfect and fair. Ha, nope. After my meeting with him, I managed to find some classes that worked with a schedule, and I would just drop in on classes throughout the next few days to see which ones fit. The one class I was very happy to actually get into was a "Issues with Marine and Coastal Management" course, which would be very particular to my location in Scotland and the oil industry in the North Sea. Monday, I sampled a few classes I was enrolled in, but after twenty minutes of each, I decided they were not really my level (1000 and 2000 level courses for freshman).

(Sorry, I realize I am supposed to be describing a brief moment, but I swear this sort of builds up to that moment.)

Anyways, after trying a few of these classes that were not really a good fit, I was excited to attend my Coastal Management class on Thursday, a 4000 level course. I show up to the lecture hall on time, and await scholarly Scotsmen students to enter with a profound impressive professor ready to enrich my brain. Twenty minutes into class time, I sit in an empty classroom. My head hung a little low, my faith in the Scottish educational system had decreased, and I was starting to miss my host university. I needed internet to figure things out, email my adviser, check the time schedules, so I headed to the newly built library across campus. The day before I had badly twisted my ankle on some cobblestone, and somehow gained a vicious cold by sharing a dram of whiskey with someone. It was at this moment, all my injuries, jet lag, time scheduling, loneliness, and sadness was upon me. The library is a seven story glass building, jutting out in the middle of a 600 year old campus. At the library's elevator,  I pressed the 7th floor button. As the elevator doors were closing, a young man jumps into the elevator with me. I smirk at him in acknowledgment and he smirks back in satisfaction. Still, my head was hanging rather low. He says in his wonderfully cheerful Scottish drawl,
"You know, the 7th floor is the best view of the city. The granite really sparkles off the suns reflection and the sea."
"Yeah, that would be lovely to see," I reply with a hint of gratitude.
"You are not from around here, are you?" He notices my American accent.
"Nope, just got here about a week ago."
"Ah, you will truly come to love it here, just give it a little while." He says as the elevator stops at the third floor, and then he steps out and gives me a friendly smirk "Good-Bye."

At the top of the library, I quickly walk to the nearest wall and press my hands onto the glass and look down. His words were true.

The New University Library

St, Marchar's Cathedral, oldest church in Scotland, which I had the pleasure of touring in my History of Art class. My course schedule is working out after all.

The shore of Aberdeen, about 2 km from my flat, oil rigs in the distance.

"Is he gay, or European?"

I went to Venice two days ago with Silvia for a "girl's day out," which was a very much needed day for both of us. She got to practice her English, I got to practice my shopping. Venice is only a three and a half hour bus ride from Villach, starting at 6:50 am and returning at 9:30 pm, giving us just enough time to tour the city by boat, shop for gifts, and experience all the italian commodities--pizza, pasta, leather jackets, high heels, hand-painted masks, gelato and cappacinos.

One topic, of many which were discussed between Silvia and I, was homosexuality. Everyone is entitled to his or her own opinion, but I am always seeking a diverse set of opinions on the matter, especially from different countries. Now, back in America, I went to a Broadway show, "Legally Blonde." (Yes, it is also a movie, but i really suggest seeing the musical, because it is hysterical) One of the main numbers was entitled, "Is he gay, or European?" Walking down the streets of Seattle, it is sometimes very clear who is and who isn't, but here in Villach, and especially Venice, it is impossible.  I asked Silvia if it is common to be openly gay she said, "No, never." She discussed about the difficulties someone has in the workplace if they are gay and it would not be accepted here if a gay couple raised a child. I told her I knew many successful families who have raised socially healthy children in America. She looked as if I just discovered that the world was not flat. My impression of Europe was that people were so open and comfortable in society, that homosexuality would be accepted as a natural lifestyle. However, with no known gay rights in this society, it appears that is not the case. Yet, with the italian men, wearing nice leather shoes and finer clothing than myself (and the majority of my fashionable girlfriends), I couldn't help but wonder, "Is he gay, or European?"

Well, the answer is that he is definitely not American.

(Please note that I am PRO-gay rights, and I am sorry for you if you are not.)

ALSO, PICTURES!!!

Beautiful Venice

Where are the roads?

Oh the foods...

Actually, right when this picture was being taken, an old venetian woman yells and shoos me to get off the boat (I briefly sat on the side), as if I was a pigeon about to poop on it. The man in the right shares a laugh with us.

So, see the water behind me? Yeah, the main plaza floods when it rains, so everyone walks barefoot, even through all the pigeon caca. Also, these pigeons like to land on your head.

Notice, this city is quite old...

Carnivale!

Mmm.. Aperol Spritzer, a good way to end the day.

It's my birthday

Alles Gute, zum Geburtstag!

Today I climbed the Mittagskogel with my neighbor, Martin for my birthday. It was probably one of the best birthdays I have ever had. I have seen this mountain ever since I came here and knew it was mine to summit. Well folks, my wish has come true. I made it to the summit cross this morning at 11:30 am, and saw a great cloud of fog instead of a view of Austria and Slovenia, but hey, I still had a little celebration on top with some champagne. :)

The Mittagskogel, view on the way up from a gasthaus. A little bit of cloud cover on the top.

Martin and I at the summit cross, 2148 m.

A lil bubbly

An angry bird, who hated us for no reason. We even fed these birds some of our lunch!

On the way down, as you can see where the cloud cover lies.

After the mountain, I returned to my host family in all smiles and a sore achille's tendon, and they made me a wonderful birthday dinner. I could have not asked for anything more on this day (other than seeing some real family--but that's what Skype is for!).

One big happy family!

Two weeks left in Austria... I don't know if I will be able to leave.  :(

Austrian Glacial Surverying Trip

Holchamkees Glacier, Second largest in Austria

For six days, I was a part of an eight-member team to survey the glacial movements in the Austrian Alps. We started on foot, with all surveying equipment (including a Total Station and tripod), food, beer, and all the other necessities for six days of glacier hiking, which was more than 7000 meters in elevation difference and about 60 km or more of distance. Let's just say this was the biggest hiking expedition I have ever done in my life. Here is an excerpt from my journal on the fifth day of the trip:

"Now at the Celler Hütte, Andreas' favorite place in the whole wide world, and I can see why after five days of the hardest hiking--with many life threatening climbs--this Hütte is a mountainous oasis. Tomorrow we will wake up early (as we always do at sunrise) and survey two of our last six glaciers. Then it is only a four-hour hike back down to civilization, bakeries, and warm showers.

I believe I might be the first American EVER to have seen and hiked the Austrian majestic mountain range, the Hohe Tauren National Park, in Malnitz. I know I am the only American to have ever hiked down this steep rocky passage over the mountain ridge that we conquered today. In fact, only three people do it each year--the glacial surveyors. It is too dangerous for the general public. Last year, Andreas broke his thumb on this very passage. Imagine walking down a 40 degree slope of marbles, broken glass, and boulders the size of baby rhinos. Well, there were no rhinos, glass or marbles, only the most unstable non-uniform rock slope you could find. We survived it. I fell three times, leaving me only with a large scrape on my ass, a torn achille's tendon and raw feet. I am lucky to have nothing worse--like Andreas' ripped webbing between his thumb and hand. This was also just only one of the physically difficult tasks we were approached with each day.

Each new event I survive makes me live harder and happier every day. I am not religious, but God, mountain, marmot, breeze--Thank You for looking after me. I appreciate you for giving me this wonderful world to explore."

On the sixth day, only three of us left (others went back on the fourth day), we were faced with another equally difficult nearly-vertical rock climb of about 100 meters, with backpacks and very tired bodies. This was also the hardest day for me physically with an enflamed achille's tendon, but I fought through the pain, surveyed two glaciers, and made it safely down the mountain in one piece.

I got to ride up in this beautiful Lotus Elise, owned by a fellow volunteer surveyor, Horst. I have never had my heart palpitate so much while inside a vehicle. I now have a new reason to become rich someday.

First day, arriving at the Villacher Hütte, carrying all our equipment up 1200 m, not so easy.

Villacher Hütte, 150 years old. We stayed here for two nights.

Glacial cracks in the Holchamkees

Rock Climbing up to the Holchamspitze, the pinnacle point for all the six glaciers.

Using the Total Station to measure the distance of glacial melt.

Andreas and I about to glacial climb for 400 m or so.

A storm hit us at the top of a ridge right after a very hard glacial climb. Then we had to rock climb down in a thunderstorm with hail and all our equipment. We had three and a half more hours and 600 m of elevation to go until we got to the next Hutte. VERY long day.

Another Glacier on the 4th day.

5th day, this is where I fell three times. It gets steeper than what is pictured.

Celler Hütte, made in 1963.

Existential writing is best on top of mountains.

Last BIG rock climb, while on an enflamed achille's tendon. At the top it was near vertical and but there was a 50 year old steel rope part of the way that could assist us with our climbing.

Last point marked on the entire trip by Horst.

I think I will do this trip a few more times in the future until the glaciers are gone! Anyone want to join me?