Lyrics, more lyrics, and even more lyrics

Why do we learn a new language? How do we learn a new language? Prof. Keating in the, cheesy, movie "Dead Poets Society" tries to answer a similar question: "Why do we study poetry?" I find his answer, "to woo women", unsatisfactory. For one thing, if it were true, poetic geniuses like Solomos or Pessoa, would have spread their genes most efficiently. Ιn reality it is the likes of Genghis Khan, who can rightfully claim that they are the "fathers" of humanity (pun intended.) Secondly, and more importantly, who would fall for poetry when there is music around?

Going back to the original question, foreign languages entered my life very early
(I will skip the infamous "cat/dog" story that my mother can narrate much better than I, remind me to explain more when we meet again in person.)
It must have been around 1984, I was ten years old, and my parents "encouraged" me (a mild expression) to take French lessons. The strongest memory I have from these days is a bipolar me either vehemently refusing to interrupt my early afternoon sleep to attend class (classes usually took place after school between 2pm and 8pm) (that was more frequent during the winter semester) or me going there half an hour earlier during the Spring semester to meet with my classmates and play children's games in the courtyard of the historic building of the "Institut Francais d'Athenes, Annexe du Piraie" (French accent signs omitted) (Spring is really nice in Piraeus), an activity which frequently caused the eruption of the French director, a great pedagogue no doubt.

The most pressing question that our sorry teachers had to answer to a bunch of 10-year-old monsters was "why do we have to learn French?" The obvious answer "to be able to appreciate first hand the glorious French civilization" did not work great at that age. It still does not work great for me. So, the most 'philosophical' of the teachers, usually the ones with more years in service and less idealism left, fell back to the obvious cliche "if you ever travel to France, how will you be able to ask for directions in the street? You want to visit France some day. Right?" At that point most discussions stopped because even 10-year-old boys can understand when stupidity has crossed a limit.

Curiously enough, such discussions infrequently come up during the English language classes (guess why :)) and particularly for students entering adolescence. Why? Because music enters their life! You know, that thing where suddenly, whoever you talk to seems to be talking about, e.g., this or the hair of these guys? And who can claim that he can appreciate music fully without understanding the lyrics? Can you imagine yourself listening to, e.g., "Listen to your heart" (the choice is NOT arbitrary :)) and singing out loud "Λιστεν το γιουρ χαρτ"; No way! You need to understand what you are singing! QED!

Long story short, regardless of me being a rather conservative, I did not go to any concerts, and atypical adolescent, I managed to learn a bit of French, English and even some German. But music was part of my life. And because I was atypical I listened to many different songs, e.g., like this one, or even that one.

Years have passed, and I have marched to the beat of my own drum which to many people may sound like noise but to me it has a mostly melodic sound. The current challenge is to adjust to life in Zurich and for that I have to put to good use my poor to pathetic knowledge of French and German. But my theory is still there to help me like a true Platonic idea, alive in its own world!

Trying to locate the central post office in Zurich in "Kasernenstrasse" (see an earlier post) my linguistic memory attracted me to the right direction to the old barracks (Kaserne = Barracks in German) remembering (I doubt it has anything to do with Plato's anamnesis) the beginning of the German lyrics.

Bei der Kaserne, vor dem grossen Tor

steht 'ne Laterne und steht sie nach davor

da wollen wir uns wiedersehen

bei der Laterne wollen wir stehen

wie einst Lili Marlen 

My theory is so great that it applies even to the digital world! Trying to buy the necessary first household items for my new apartment, I chose the French version of a pathetic online site which supported only the "official" Swiss languages (German, French, and Italian.) The word "rabais" ('discount' in French) was prominently displayed. Spot on again!

Padam, padam, padam

Des "Je t'aime" de quatorze-Juillet

Padam, padam, padam

Des "Toujours" qu'on achete au rabais

What is the conclusion? You may be able to appreciate the big divas of music at the age of 14, quote Plato or even have your own original ideas on the purpose of language, but as the last lyric states (due to the financial crisis) you will always have to buy stuff on discount!

Shop online my friends!

The deep connection between Easter eating and famous theatrical plays

This post is not for anyone. You have to have gone through the crazy amount of eating casually taking place on Easter Sunday in Greece to understand what I mean. Alas, I recognize that I am addressing an international audience so a small digression is necessary. Furthermore, you have every right to wonder what is the deep connection between, e.g., a stake well done and a play written by Strindberg? Is it the necessary mastery involved in both processes? Could be, but this is not what I have in mind. How are the "passions" of an overloaded stomach related to the passions of a war stricken mother? Read on.

For most Christians in Greece, the celebrations for Holy Week, end on Holy Saturday around midnight. At that time Greeks flock the churches to hear the proclamation of Christ's resurrection (or as we say in Greek "Χριστός Ανέστη!".) It is a unique ceremony which takes place mostly outside the church's building and traditionally ends with people lighting firecrackers, fireworks or even firing weapons as a way to create as much "holy noise" as possible to celebrate the victory of Christ over death. The following video will give you an idea.

After the pious return to their homes, tradition calls for a sumptuous dinner to break the fasting period of Lent and prepare the stomach for what will follow. In most places the main dish takes the form of "μαγειρίτσα" a delicious soup made primarily by the liver, lungs and intestines of lamp. Easter eggs, various cheese and sausages usually complete the dinner. A wise decision if I may say so, as a stomach which has endured the whole period of Lent needs some transition period before it goes to the next day, Easter Sunday or "Λαμπρή".

The brightest day of the year, (this is what the word "Λαμπρή" means in English), calls for the best food of the year. That usually means an unhealthy amount of BBQ, for sure lamp, which contrary to what Sheldon and his friends think is mainly eaten on that day only and not throughout the year. To make things better (or worse depending on your point of view) usually you do not miss on the opportunity to taste some "κοκορέτσι", "κοντοσούβλι", "παϊδάκια", stakes, burgers, sausages or even more exotic treats based on meat. Spring enters the picture in the form of various salads, usually lettuce and tomato/cucumber. To ensure that people's appetite will go undiminished "τζατζίκι" an appetizer is served. And I forgot to mention that we eat even more eggs and cheese.

The above description might seem to be a bit of an exaggeration, but I assure you it is not.
My main point is that this is the day where the diet conscious are treated as a bit of freaks.
This is the day to go overboard with food.
Of course, as they say 'no good deed goes unpunished.'
In this case, punishment usually comes in the form of a bloated, aching stomach.
Short breaths, heart palpitations and an urgent need to get some relief by drinking loads of soda are not unheard of.

Well, I do not know about you but as far as I am concerned, in troubled times like those I get my deepest philosophical thoughts. I suspect this trait comes directly from my ancient ancestors discussing philosophy during their famous symposia. "Do other people celebrate like this?" (I am afraid not), "Are we a genuine member of Europe's nations?" (which as the legend has it, is the source of the highest form of civilization? Thank God, no!), "Why do I always have to eat like a pig?"(I still wonder.) This year post-lunch inspiration struck me in the form of questioning Greece's participation in the EU. To put it bluntly "should we stay or should we go?"

You might find it surprising to hear that despite the austerity measures imposed by the EU on Greece (which among others led a good part of the Greeks into poverty and increased the number of suicides) and making its people an international laughing stock, the majority of Greeks still support their country's membership in the EU. Furthermore, a lot of them claim that they "are looking forward to the country fulfilling its European perspective" (whatever that means. Even more poverty?)

The older among us, I count myself in that group as I approach the magical number 40 in years, still remember that at some point the EU was considering banning the consumption of animal intestines, more or less what the US already does, in order to prevent future incidents similar to the "mad cow" disease. That would have meant that a traditional Easter celebration like the one I described above would have been essentially ... illegal. I vividly remember, the verbal protests by people and the anger directed towards "Brussels bureaucrats" who like to boss us around. Thank God that legislation did not go through (hint: maybe we sent some portions towards their side and they changed their minds? Who knows?) Conclusion: apparently we take our "κοκορέτσι" more seriously than our national independence.

Sad thoughts like these were making my stomach heavier than a couple of meat dishes would suggest. I was desperate in need to go through the fourth stage of grief. I had already experienced denial, anger, and, resignation. The few blood going to my brain (most of it was sucked by my stomach) had to help to come up with an idea fast. Then, it came to me! Greeks are a nation famous for creating civilization out of the misfortunes of life. Seriously, would a brilliant tragedy like Medea be the first thing you would come up with upon encountering a case of infanticide? I guess not.

So here is my suggestion: you know how in modern, fashionable, restaurants they name the dishes to give them some identity (and increase the price on the menu)? Why not name the dishes based on famous theatrical plays? The name should be chosen in order to match the eater's feelings upon ordering and eating the dish. A few examples I came up with:

• prime rib steak: "The Father" (you can't go higher in the food chain than that)
• triple whopper: "Mother Courage" (you will certainly need it)
• watermelon and pancetta risotto: "Right you are (if you think so)" (after a person crosses a certain limit you should always agree with him. For your own good.)
• scallop tangerine gastrique "The madwoman of Chaillot" (I am still OK as long as you are sober enough to pay the bill)
• fig and goat cheese pizza with arugula "The importance of being earnest" (a real man would go for something with more meat but I still appreciate your honesty)

Bon appetit!

Week of 2014-03-30

As work is ramping up, most of my activity is geared towards it.
Tracking my activities on a daily basis is getting too much.
I should switch to a weekly report.

I finally opened an account with UBS in Rennweg as many colleagues have suggested.
It came as a surprise to me that depending on the bank and the branch (!!!) one tries, he gets totally different answers, i.e., denied to open an account due to being classified as a 'US person for tax purposes', considered a  'US person' but not denied, or even not considered a 'US person' at all!

The stuff was friendly but the whole picture looked a bit like a charade to me.
Try to picture me dressed more or less in my usual style, sitting face to face with a bunch of uptight Swiss bankers dressed in suits. I assume that the Google salary played its role but still I have trouble feeling easy with that picture. The best part (sarcasm) came at the end when the person opening the account was explaining to me the security measures taken by the bank in order to initialize the web banking access to my account. He concluded "but you are an IT(!!!) professional, so that should be easy for you". What???? 'IT' professional??? What next??? Will someone ever call me, e.g., "Web Support and Testing professional"??? I am a computer engineer, dude! IT is a utilitarian term as viewed by business people like you. Do you realize that "The purpose of computation is insight, not numbers"? OK. I should take my pills and relax. Anyway, it looks like the bank account has been successfully opened. Fingers crossed, Google payroll goes through successfully and I will be a happy man.

Change of topic. My efforts to practice my limited German are more or less a disaster up to now. Reason number one: people tend to judge from my face too hastily that I am Spanish and do not address me in German. I have been called "senor" and "caballero" too many times. Honey, if you knew me you would know that I am nothing close to a knight (an alternative translation of the word 'caballero') and moreover, I was very proud that people in the US recognized me as Greek just from my face. Do not spoil it for me please :) (A professor I TAed for, once left me in a Kinko's to make copies for the class. He later sent someone to pick-up me up with the following instructions: 'He looks like Greek'. I got back to class safely.)

Reason number two: someone claimed that Swiss people have such a strong antipathy for Germans that unless you can address them in Zurich-German, they prefer to speak in English. Way to go gov'! I will have my team at 5'o clock promptly :)

Fun facts for Swiss-German: the way to pronounce the word kitchen is something like 'hoohee',  the verb to be in the third person instead of pronounced like 'isst' is pronounced more like 'isht'

It turns out Sunday is my kind of day.

Usually, I am so exhausted from the whole week's effort on Saturdays that I have the minimal energy required only to do my laundry and then I crash to bed sleeping all day.

But on Sunday afternoon I am determined to explore the city!

Today, I took the tram number 4 which crosses the "Bellevue" area, a posh area which starts from the foothills of ETH and extends along the right bank of the Zurich lake.

Pictures and more comments will follow in a subsequent post.

The tram goes through the Rathaus, the town hall of Zurich.

The astute observer will not face to observe that the external walls of the Rathaus are decorated with the busts of famous Greeks, I guess as examples of civic virtue.

I could not fail to think that if there were too much civic virtue around I would not be here right now :) 

The area around the Rathaus is full of open air cafes.

As mentioned in a previous post, I love sitting outdoors late in the afternoon during the Spring months when the temperature is just right, the day grows longer and longer and there is people around.

My personal OKR (Objective and Key Result for the Google outsiders) for this quarter is to explore as many cafes as possible and eat as much chocolate, coffee and pastries there! Some beer would be fine too.

One thing one cannot fail to notice is the smoking in public spaces.

I was sitting at a restaurant outdoors enjoying my early dinner around 6pm.

Two tables away a young couple was smoking before and after their dinner.

The smell took me by the noise and the feeling was most disagreeable but nobody seemed to notice or complain.

Apparently smoking in Europe is common even among younger people and considered socially acceptable. Too bad.

(to be continued)

2014/03/29

I need to resolve the banking situation. People are answering my question in the email list. They suggest visiting a branch in Rennweg. Another guy suggests visiting the main post office near HB (everything is near HB in Zurich.) I wake up early and go there but I cannot find any PostFinance branch. For sure, there is a UBS branch but it is closed. Will be back here on Monday. The day is sunny, the weather great and lots of people are all around. As good as it gets. I spot a Swisscom store but this is not my priority yet. Going back to the PostFinance branch near the HB. It is located in the “Kasernenstrasse”. The sound is familiar. I got it! The lyrics of the famous Lili Marlen song. Makes sense. In the old days there could be barracks there. Cool, but it does not solve my problem. To make things worse, there is scaffolding all around the building and it seems they are doing some renovation there. Cannot find the entrance. Have to go round the block twice to realize that they moved to a nearby location. I find the branch and enter for a fourth (!!!) time. In front of me there is a couple of Greeks (I can spot them effortlessly, even when they are silent) who are serviced by an employee there who is trying to help them in less than perfect English. The work gets done but come on guys!!! This is the busiest tourist spot of your country!!! Put someone who can speak perfect English there. The sight of a new generation of Greek immigrants gives me guilts for my good luck and I great the Greeks. A warm word never hurt anyone.  My turn to get service. The lady at the desk announces to me that her shift is over and she calls a colleague to help me. She has a hawkish nose, perfect blue eyes and died blond hair. I get it. She is Turkish. The name on the tag in her uniform confirms my suspicions. Now, I get angry. I explain the problem to her and she calls up someone. She claims that this is normal because what I have is a temporary registration and not a work permit or something like that. The interesting part is that she says a letter from the bank with extra details to fill out should be on its way. I could get it as early as today. Nothing to do there so I go back to the HB to have lunch. Food looks delicious and the pastries even more. Plus it is so cool to be sitting in open air in Europe and get service. Tough luck. I am fasting for Lent so I end up getting some fries with ketchup in Burger King. The fries taste better than in the US but I have to pay for the ketchup. Cheap Europeans! :)  I go back to the swisscom store I spotted earlier and buy a prepaid plan for data and voice for 50CHF. The sim card works immediately. RIP 512 206 6032, long live 41 797 1212 76 !!! You have been the most important cell phone number I ever had in my life. I got some of the best and worst news in my life so far through you. You graduated three handsets, an early motorola model, my first blackberry/smartphone and my first Android phone. I will miss you so much. I try to call home but nobody is answering. Back to my apartment with a stop to a close by super market. I buy a decent amount of stuff and a shopping bag and carry them with me to my apartment. No need for a car, what an upgrade from the US! I check my mailbox and find the letter from the bank indeed. Long story short they think I am a “US person” and ask me to fill out form W-9, essentially to renounce any confidentiality of my bank account. Switzerland is coming under huge fire from the US for being a bank heaven. Taking the form with me and going to visit a prospective apartment and then back to the city for some sightseeing. The apartment is close to Oerlikon but again Zurich public transportation is perfect and I get there pretty fast.  The city looks wonderful on such a nice day. I can even see the Alps. I take pictures. After walking for a couple of hours, I stop at a Starbucks, get some hot tea, fill out a renting application and the reply to the bank and get some rest. Lots of young people around me. A lot of them smoke. Stupidity is universal! I find an Italian place to accommodate for my fasting needs. The place is full of Europeans dressed in casual smart style and I look like a filthy tourist. Still, money talks and I get service. Taking the tram back home. Can you believe I did so many things in a single day using public transportation?

2014/03/28

End of first week and the fatigue is taking a toll on me. Stopping at the PostFinance branch again. They give me the same non-sense but this time the teller calls up someone higher in the food chain to find out more. The verdict is that there seems to be some issue and asks me to call the contact person. Back to the office. First attempt to familiarize myself with the phone system in Switzerland. Cannot make the call go through. A Greek colleague suggest to add a 0 somewhere and it works! The person at the other end speaks decent English although she claims she does not and tells me that the account has to go through some compliance process. What????? Minor sense of panic. Sending an email to a list inside Google for more help. Doing some more work. Leaving the office around 6:30 pm and going to the Greek church which turns out to be surprisingly close to my place. Everything is so close in Zurich! The shape of the church viewed from the external is very unusual for an Orthodox church but the whole building is surprising large. A good sign. Means the Greeks here have money :).  Entering the church to attend the service of the Akathist. The “athmosphere” is very warm, the choir good, and the old priest gives me a good feeling. An easy google search reveals that he is the founder of the community, originally from Crete. His face looks very “Cretan” to me and my wild imagination can easily place him in an El Greco painting. The service ends and he gives a tiny but meaningful sermon. Excellent! I like short sermons. The service and the composition of the crowd makes me feel like I am in Greece. I leave the church and take a tram to HB. I get there in zero time. Public transportation in Zurich is amazing. I find a mini-market, there is also a super market, buy some food and get a tram back to my place. Lots of people in the streets. That makes me happy. I arrive home and call my mom. I am raving from enthusiasm. I cannot imagine how I would be able to do all these things in such a short time in the US without a car and driving for 1-2 hours. Going to bed. Tomorrow is a big day.

2014/03/27

Waking up early again due to the jetlag and go to the main train station (Hauptbahnhof or HB) to get a monthly public transportation permit. They ask for my address (that should be none of their business) and give me a huge 70s style piece of paper. That will work too. Stopping at the PostFinance branch in Enge station to check my bank account. One more good trait I inherited from dad. Turns out I cannot deposit. The guy thinks that this is because the account is so fresh. I start to get nervous about it, because I need that for payroll. I realize that pretty soon I might need money e.g. to pay advance rents for an apartment and ask for a payment advance. No clue how things will work out with my banking problems. First day that I can do some real work for 3-4 hours. Studied some code thoroughly. Other than that the day has been rather uneventful.

2014/03/26

Checking out of the hotel. Arrive at work at 8am and mean to start working but a friendly Swiss colleague starts explaining to me the differences of Swiss German from ‘proper’ German. I want to laugh. We keep talking about other stuff. I have a meeting with the guys at the agency to get the keys for the temporary apartment. I got the keys and went straight to the apartment passing through Zurich’s most infamous street . It does not look frightening at all, just ugly. The apartment is old and not what you expect judging from the brochures but still cozy. The floor is squeaky made from wood but after 12 years in the US I find that charming. Back to Google to attend a 2 hour presentation from the HR on the pension system. Needless to say I do not understand a thing and feel inferior to the other, younger, colleagues who seem to understand everything and ask thoughtful questions about their future. Trying to suppress my feels of irritation against other Europeans. Von Neumann’s quote “There's no sense in being precise when you don't even know what you're talking about.” comes to mind. Good luck getting a pension in Europe after 35 years!!! Back to my desk for yet another meeting, with yet another team in the US, Seattle this time. Meetings tend to be late, to make up for the time difference.

2014/03/25

Greek national day. Trying to feel proud while I am having a job abroad. The goals of the day are to get registered to the local city office, Kreisburo, and open a bank account. It took me some time to find the place, it was relatively well hidden and my efforts to speak broken German were border line hillarious. Like all good bureaucrats the guy who handled my application was very serious and initially tried to find some excuse not to help me. His issue was that my temporary apartment booked for one month is not permanent enough to register me at that location.  I argued that given the scarcity of apartments for rent in Zurich this is the best I can do and without much effort things ended smoothly. Not bad at all overall. Straight from there to the bank. An extremely helpful young  guy opens an account for me and I am off to go. Overall, people are very friendly and helpful. Back to Google where I talk about work and participate in a meeting with a team in Chicago that works with us.

2014/03/24

Woke up at 2am due to jet lag. First day at the office. Breakfast at Google rocks!!! Great selection of breads and jams. Amazing view of the city of Zurich from the 6th floor where my office is. A colleague claims that on a clear day the Alps are visible. Met with manager and immediately started talking about work. The local guys had not set up my computer. Turned out they sent it to the wrong desk. Meetings with HR people. Had lunch with the rest of the team. Food is very ‘European’ and tastes great. Easily two cafeterias in Zurich compete with all the cafeterias in MtV.

2014/03/23

flew from Athens to Zurich in less than 3 hours. Themos Anastasiadis was sitting two seats away from me. Security inspections in the Athens airport were minimal and nobody stopped me at any point in Zurich. I entered the country like that. Yeah!!!!!!! Took a cab from the Zurich airport for CHF 46 and went to the hotel, where I crashed.