http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t3RjCiq1ICY
Sing along to the following lyrics.
Looming deadlines
killing our spirit
trying to meet it
Desklight,
past midnight,
mind is blanking,
feel like cranking,
Procrastination,
Procrastination,
it's just the way we feel.
We hate this working nation, (woh-oh, o-oh)
We've lost all motivation, (wo-oh, o-oh)
It's just a shit sensation, (wo-oh, o-oh)
We live on procrastination.
Invented by yours truly, whilst not writing this Aerodynamics report, which is due in in 3 days time.
12 December 2010
3 December 2010
Day 7
because I don't want to sleep, not yet.
It is 4.30am, and I am writing this having just come back from our very own college ball.
It has definately been more than 7 days, but finally, I bring this series of blog posts to a close, rather fittingly, as Michaelmas term finishes.
It has been a bit of a ride this term, some highs and lows, and I can't help but think that time has passed so fast. It really feels like now, more than ever, we have to grab onto every moment, lest it be whisked away from us forever.
Balls in Cambridge are rather special, and I don't think this sort of thing is found elsewhere (save Oxford, but we shall not mention that). Imagine if you will, a whole college (or campus), turned into a wonderland of lights and beauty, for one night only. The guests, dressed in their finest; singing, laughing and dancing. This is the essence of a Cambridge ball.
Perhaps it is because I am in my final year, but I can't help but feel that each ball this year will feel bittersweet as a whole - each will be the last of its kind for me, and will march me inevitably closer to the end of my University life.
However, I have more than half a year to go yet - there is still plenty left to enjoy.
But, given the amount of alcohol I have consumed, and the position I find myself in, I can't help but reflect on the last three years of my life a little. So much has happened, and a lot of it in a way I would never expect. I have known triumph and disaster, been in good and ill health, been cast into the depths of despair, and sailed on the bright winds of hope.
I feel like I can look back however, and declare, without doubt, that these were (or are) the best years of my life so far, and I know for sure that I will miss them when I am gone.
I actually wanted the Day 7 blog to be about the social aspect of being in Cambridge, about the Formals, pennying, clubs and whatnot, but I guess it has turned into something different (no doubt due to the fact that I'm writing this at a non-existent hour of the morning).
So, given this moment of reflection, let's look back at what we have learned this week:
Cambridge students have a lot of work (if you do a proper subject). This is compounded if you decide to be the Aerodynamics team leader for a solar car racing society, and if you want to play sports too. Sleep is more important than food (in the morning at least). Cycling is dangerous because of the pedestrians and arriving at lectures in a sweaty mess is the de-facto standard. Electrical engineers write bad love poems. Examples papers rule the life of undergraduate engineers, and urinating on them is a bad idea, especially if you need to hand them in at a supervision. Nearly getting a Full Blue but choking is a painful experience, and finally, college balls are fantastic.
I'm not sure I can put into words my mood right now, but I think it can be best described as feeling that everything is right with the world. Even though there are still some parts of my life which I feel haven't really come together, I'm convinced by times like these that it will all be alright in the end.
To all my friends; it is a blessing to know you all. These were priceless times we shared, and although such joy is transient as it always is, I truly feel that it is this sort of experience that we all seek, and rarely attain.
Invariably, such times like this become inextricably linked to songs, and the one I associate with this time is by Dashboard Confessional.
We watch the season pull up its own stakes
And catch the last weekend of the last week
Before the gold and the glimmer have been replaced,
Another sun soaked season fades away
Invitation only, grand farewells
Crash the best one, of the best ones
Clear liquor and cloudy eyed, too early to say goodnight
And from the ballroom floor we are in celebration
One good stretch before our hibernation
Our dreams assured and we all, will sleep well
I watch you spin around in your highest heels
You are the best one, of the best ones
We all look like we feel
Good night.
It is 4.30am, and I am writing this having just come back from our very own college ball.
It has definately been more than 7 days, but finally, I bring this series of blog posts to a close, rather fittingly, as Michaelmas term finishes.
It has been a bit of a ride this term, some highs and lows, and I can't help but think that time has passed so fast. It really feels like now, more than ever, we have to grab onto every moment, lest it be whisked away from us forever.
Balls in Cambridge are rather special, and I don't think this sort of thing is found elsewhere (save Oxford, but we shall not mention that). Imagine if you will, a whole college (or campus), turned into a wonderland of lights and beauty, for one night only. The guests, dressed in their finest; singing, laughing and dancing. This is the essence of a Cambridge ball.
Perhaps it is because I am in my final year, but I can't help but feel that each ball this year will feel bittersweet as a whole - each will be the last of its kind for me, and will march me inevitably closer to the end of my University life.
However, I have more than half a year to go yet - there is still plenty left to enjoy.
But, given the amount of alcohol I have consumed, and the position I find myself in, I can't help but reflect on the last three years of my life a little. So much has happened, and a lot of it in a way I would never expect. I have known triumph and disaster, been in good and ill health, been cast into the depths of despair, and sailed on the bright winds of hope.
I feel like I can look back however, and declare, without doubt, that these were (or are) the best years of my life so far, and I know for sure that I will miss them when I am gone.
I actually wanted the Day 7 blog to be about the social aspect of being in Cambridge, about the Formals, pennying, clubs and whatnot, but I guess it has turned into something different (no doubt due to the fact that I'm writing this at a non-existent hour of the morning).
So, given this moment of reflection, let's look back at what we have learned this week:
Cambridge students have a lot of work (if you do a proper subject). This is compounded if you decide to be the Aerodynamics team leader for a solar car racing society, and if you want to play sports too. Sleep is more important than food (in the morning at least). Cycling is dangerous because of the pedestrians and arriving at lectures in a sweaty mess is the de-facto standard. Electrical engineers write bad love poems. Examples papers rule the life of undergraduate engineers, and urinating on them is a bad idea, especially if you need to hand them in at a supervision. Nearly getting a Full Blue but choking is a painful experience, and finally, college balls are fantastic.
I'm not sure I can put into words my mood right now, but I think it can be best described as feeling that everything is right with the world. Even though there are still some parts of my life which I feel haven't really come together, I'm convinced by times like these that it will all be alright in the end.
To all my friends; it is a blessing to know you all. These were priceless times we shared, and although such joy is transient as it always is, I truly feel that it is this sort of experience that we all seek, and rarely attain.
Invariably, such times like this become inextricably linked to songs, and the one I associate with this time is by Dashboard Confessional.
We watch the season pull up its own stakes
And catch the last weekend of the last week
Before the gold and the glimmer have been replaced,
Another sun soaked season fades away
Invitation only, grand farewells
Crash the best one, of the best ones
Clear liquor and cloudy eyed, too early to say goodnight
And from the ballroom floor we are in celebration
One good stretch before our hibernation
Our dreams assured and we all, will sleep well
I watch you spin around in your highest heels
You are the best one, of the best ones
We all look like we feel
Good night.
22 November 2010
Day 6
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
It is these wise words of Kipling I am trying to follow as I sit here in my room, nursing yet another cold, and struggling to put the disappointment of the weekend behind me.
Let's give this some context.
The Blue:
Sportsmen and women at the University of Cambridge may be awarded a Full Blue (or simply a Blue), Half Blue, First Team Colours or Second Team Colours for competing at the highest level of university sport, which must include being in a Varsity match or race against the University of Oxford. A Full Blue is the highest honour that may be bestowed on a Cambridge sportsman or woman, and is a much-coveted and prestigious prize. In general, the Full Blue standard is approximately that of being successful at a national level of student competition, and the Half Blue standard is that of being successful at county or regional level.
The process for obtaining a Blue for Badminton is simple - finish in the Round of 16 at the National University Badminton Tournament (known as the BUCS Individuals), and then play in Varsity.
Well, the weekend just gone marked the date of the aforementioned tournament, and looking back, disappointment aside, what a ride it was.
My partner and I have been playing together for two years now, having formed the pairing in my 2nd year. Each year, we have been entered in the BUCS Individuals. In our first year, we got knocked out in the 1st Round. Last year, we progressed to Round 2, only to lose to a pair from Swansea in 3 games after dominating them early on.
During that period, we also played in the Varsity 1st team, which gave us both a half-blue each.
I was happy with that accolade, and seeing as neither of us were of national standard, the award seemed to reflect our level quite well.
We went into this tournament with few expectations - our goal simply was to progress one round further than we had previously.
My tournament began on the Friday morning, setting off at 7.45am with the Mens Singles players. We arrived in Nottingham at the sports centre with plenty of time for the sign-ups, and I soaked in the atmosphere as teams from all over the country convened on the sports multi-plex. There is something special about the atmosphere at a Badminton tournament to me; the hum of the players chatting in the waiting areas, the squeaks of shoes on the courts, the shouts of jubilation and despair, sounds of well struck shuttles (they make a very satisfying "bang" when you hit them cleanly), the sounds of the PA system ringing out match announcements, and of course, the loud cheers of the supporters.
I wish I could play in more tournaments.
Friday saw two of our singles players progress through to the Saturday (meaning thay had each won 2 matches). It also saw two of our mixed pairs progress too - a fantastic performance.
We went to bed that night a mostly satisfied team.
Saturday morning saw the beginning of the Men's Doubles tournament. This year, there had been more entries for Men's Doubles than ever before, resulting in a draw which was 256 wide. This meant that a lot of players had gotten Byes into the 2nd round, however, we didn't.
Our first match was against a pair from Gloucester. As we stepped onto court, around 3pm in the afternoon, my nerves were jangling badly - they always do for the first match of a tournament.
I don't really remember the details of that first match, save that I was tense, and threw away quite a few points with mistakes. However, my partner kept his composure, and we pulled through comfortably in the end 21-16, 21-18.
Our second match came up shortly after, and, having broken the duck as it were, I was much more relaxed. We recognised one of our adversaries as someone we had played (and beaten before), and we played our game with confidence to take another comfortable win 21-14, 21-18.
We were in the Round of 64 - where we had gotten to last year, with one more match to win to reach our goal.
Our next match was called, but because of the terrible acoustics in the hall, we couldn't hear our names. This led to us making it to the court in the nick of time; another minute later and we would have been scratched from the tournament. The late arrival meant we were left with hardly any time to warm up properly. However, we approached the match with a good mindset, and easily took the first game 21-12.
Our opponents responded in the next game. I can't really remember the details of it, but we lost it 11-21.
We refocused however, and in the third end matched them point for point until it was something around 12 all. At that point, I sensed a change in their mentality; it was as if they had lost the fight - they were slower to the shuttle and felt a lot less aggressive. I knew at that point we had won. We ended up taking the game 21-13.
We were through to Sunday, to face the 9/16 seeds, and were absolutely ecstatic. We had reached our tournament goal, and reached the Round of 32.
As we were called onto Court 7 for our match on Sunday morning, I didn't feel nervous at all - only excited. There were no expectations on our shoulders; they were the seeded pair, we were the underdogs.
The first match got underway after a short period of warming up. It was a slow start from both pairs, however, as the points were won and lost, we realised we were keeping up with them.
We kept the pressure up, by being very aggressive and coming into the net as fast as possible. They had a good defence for smashes, but seemed to be unable to deal with the fast game coming from the front of the net and when under pressure, they kept making mistakes by lifting too short, or wide.
We began to pull ahead towards the end of the game, and took what felt like quite a comfortable 21-17 win. I think we were playing some of the best Badminton we had ever played, given the occasion.
At the interval my partner and I turned to each other.
"We can do this," I said, "Come on, let's step it up, we're out for blood."
He nodded at me. This was our chance.
As the second game began, we tried to play the same aggressive way we had in the first, but it wasn't working. Our adversaries had changed their tactics, and instead chose to slow the pace down, they made sure their lifts were high and deep, and we had trouble breaking their defence. They would make counter-attacks off our smashes and we would be put on the defensive immediately, which is how you lose at Men's Doubles.
Indeed, their tactic switch was so successful that at one point we trailed 15-6. However, once we realised what their plan was, we changed the way we played too, choosing not to go on the all-out offensive. Instead we mixed in some punch clears and deceptive drops to move them out of position before smashing for the win. Unfortunately, we were too far behind to make much of a comeback, and lost the second game 12-21.
And so, we entered the deciding set. We started the 3rd set on even terms with them, and we matched them point for point. Neither pair were able to open up a lead until the interval, however, we discovered that one of the players had a lot of trouble returning smashes across his body, and focused our attacking efforts on him. Unfortunately, they had also figured out that I was quite weak at returning drives down the middle from the serve and used that advantage to pressure our serve a lot.
However, we still managed to open up a 2 point gap at the interval. The score was 11-9 as we switched ends. The second half saw a repeat of the first half, with both sides very evenly matched, some great tactical rallies were played as both sides had a very good defence compared with the other side's attack, so it was down to who could manoeuvre the other pair around to get a kill from the mid-court or the net.
We proved to be the better at this game, and as the match got towards the business end, we were leading 19-17.
Two points. A full blue was only two points away. The nerves suddenly gripped me.
I don't remember exactly how the last four points played out, but it went something like this:
They served, and we got on the attack, I smashed, and they defended with a very deep lift. I left it, perhaps a part of me wishing that it would go out, the shuttle landed an inch in. 19-18.
My partner turned to me.
"We just need one more point."
If we had gotten to 20, we would have put them under tremendous pressure.
The next point, I tried to attack off their serve, and ended up pushing the shuttle just long. This let the score go to 19-19.
Another serve, another short rally. I don't remember what happened, but this gave them match point. 19-20.
It was my receive of serve. As I stepped up to receive, my heart hammered in my chest - this was the do or die moment. I had pushed several service returns into the net before, and also one just long. I knew that if I lifted, it would probably end badly - I had to make the return flat.
He served, and I made a good flat drive. Our opponents returned with another good drive, which my partner pushed in a drop. However, the other pair were onto the net faster - perhaps sensing their opportunity, and managed to push the shuttle past me deep into the backhand corner. My partner tried to scramble to lift it clear, but unfortunately it went into the net.
21-19. Game over.
I forced a smile as I shook their hands. I felt numb inside - I couldn't really comprehend what had happened. It was only on the drive back that it sank in, we were two points away, and we choked.
Now, I know right now I am in a world of disappointment, and probably will be for a few days, but I am still immensely proud of what we have achieved.
Without wishing to dramatise, and looking back on the weekend now, what happened was like an Olympic moment for me. I doubt that I will ever take part in such a high level tournament ever again (the top seeds in the tournament are all ex junior national and international players), let alone make it through to the last 32. We played out of our skins all weekend, and although we were favoured by a good draw, we still had to play good Badminton to advance. And it wasn't like we were completely outmatched at the end; we had the skill in our hands but just lacked a slight amount of mental composure (or at least I did, I don't know how my partner felt).
For me, it feels like that although we didn't take home the gold, we got the silver; I can be happy with that.
I kept one of the shuttles that we practised with in the squash courts prior to the match, and I've written the scores of our last match on the cork.
It's not something I'll forget.
And treat those two impostors just the same;
It is these wise words of Kipling I am trying to follow as I sit here in my room, nursing yet another cold, and struggling to put the disappointment of the weekend behind me.
Let's give this some context.
The Blue:
Sportsmen and women at the University of Cambridge may be awarded a Full Blue (or simply a Blue), Half Blue, First Team Colours or Second Team Colours for competing at the highest level of university sport, which must include being in a Varsity match or race against the University of Oxford. A Full Blue is the highest honour that may be bestowed on a Cambridge sportsman or woman, and is a much-coveted and prestigious prize. In general, the Full Blue standard is approximately that of being successful at a national level of student competition, and the Half Blue standard is that of being successful at county or regional level.
The process for obtaining a Blue for Badminton is simple - finish in the Round of 16 at the National University Badminton Tournament (known as the BUCS Individuals), and then play in Varsity.
Well, the weekend just gone marked the date of the aforementioned tournament, and looking back, disappointment aside, what a ride it was.
My partner and I have been playing together for two years now, having formed the pairing in my 2nd year. Each year, we have been entered in the BUCS Individuals. In our first year, we got knocked out in the 1st Round. Last year, we progressed to Round 2, only to lose to a pair from Swansea in 3 games after dominating them early on.
During that period, we also played in the Varsity 1st team, which gave us both a half-blue each.
I was happy with that accolade, and seeing as neither of us were of national standard, the award seemed to reflect our level quite well.
We went into this tournament with few expectations - our goal simply was to progress one round further than we had previously.
My tournament began on the Friday morning, setting off at 7.45am with the Mens Singles players. We arrived in Nottingham at the sports centre with plenty of time for the sign-ups, and I soaked in the atmosphere as teams from all over the country convened on the sports multi-plex. There is something special about the atmosphere at a Badminton tournament to me; the hum of the players chatting in the waiting areas, the squeaks of shoes on the courts, the shouts of jubilation and despair, sounds of well struck shuttles (they make a very satisfying "bang" when you hit them cleanly), the sounds of the PA system ringing out match announcements, and of course, the loud cheers of the supporters.
I wish I could play in more tournaments.
Friday saw two of our singles players progress through to the Saturday (meaning thay had each won 2 matches). It also saw two of our mixed pairs progress too - a fantastic performance.
We went to bed that night a mostly satisfied team.
Saturday morning saw the beginning of the Men's Doubles tournament. This year, there had been more entries for Men's Doubles than ever before, resulting in a draw which was 256 wide. This meant that a lot of players had gotten Byes into the 2nd round, however, we didn't.
Our first match was against a pair from Gloucester. As we stepped onto court, around 3pm in the afternoon, my nerves were jangling badly - they always do for the first match of a tournament.
I don't really remember the details of that first match, save that I was tense, and threw away quite a few points with mistakes. However, my partner kept his composure, and we pulled through comfortably in the end 21-16, 21-18.
Our second match came up shortly after, and, having broken the duck as it were, I was much more relaxed. We recognised one of our adversaries as someone we had played (and beaten before), and we played our game with confidence to take another comfortable win 21-14, 21-18.
We were in the Round of 64 - where we had gotten to last year, with one more match to win to reach our goal.
Our next match was called, but because of the terrible acoustics in the hall, we couldn't hear our names. This led to us making it to the court in the nick of time; another minute later and we would have been scratched from the tournament. The late arrival meant we were left with hardly any time to warm up properly. However, we approached the match with a good mindset, and easily took the first game 21-12.
Our opponents responded in the next game. I can't really remember the details of it, but we lost it 11-21.
We refocused however, and in the third end matched them point for point until it was something around 12 all. At that point, I sensed a change in their mentality; it was as if they had lost the fight - they were slower to the shuttle and felt a lot less aggressive. I knew at that point we had won. We ended up taking the game 21-13.
We were through to Sunday, to face the 9/16 seeds, and were absolutely ecstatic. We had reached our tournament goal, and reached the Round of 32.
As we were called onto Court 7 for our match on Sunday morning, I didn't feel nervous at all - only excited. There were no expectations on our shoulders; they were the seeded pair, we were the underdogs.
The first match got underway after a short period of warming up. It was a slow start from both pairs, however, as the points were won and lost, we realised we were keeping up with them.
We kept the pressure up, by being very aggressive and coming into the net as fast as possible. They had a good defence for smashes, but seemed to be unable to deal with the fast game coming from the front of the net and when under pressure, they kept making mistakes by lifting too short, or wide.
We began to pull ahead towards the end of the game, and took what felt like quite a comfortable 21-17 win. I think we were playing some of the best Badminton we had ever played, given the occasion.
At the interval my partner and I turned to each other.
"We can do this," I said, "Come on, let's step it up, we're out for blood."
He nodded at me. This was our chance.
As the second game began, we tried to play the same aggressive way we had in the first, but it wasn't working. Our adversaries had changed their tactics, and instead chose to slow the pace down, they made sure their lifts were high and deep, and we had trouble breaking their defence. They would make counter-attacks off our smashes and we would be put on the defensive immediately, which is how you lose at Men's Doubles.
Indeed, their tactic switch was so successful that at one point we trailed 15-6. However, once we realised what their plan was, we changed the way we played too, choosing not to go on the all-out offensive. Instead we mixed in some punch clears and deceptive drops to move them out of position before smashing for the win. Unfortunately, we were too far behind to make much of a comeback, and lost the second game 12-21.
And so, we entered the deciding set. We started the 3rd set on even terms with them, and we matched them point for point. Neither pair were able to open up a lead until the interval, however, we discovered that one of the players had a lot of trouble returning smashes across his body, and focused our attacking efforts on him. Unfortunately, they had also figured out that I was quite weak at returning drives down the middle from the serve and used that advantage to pressure our serve a lot.
However, we still managed to open up a 2 point gap at the interval. The score was 11-9 as we switched ends. The second half saw a repeat of the first half, with both sides very evenly matched, some great tactical rallies were played as both sides had a very good defence compared with the other side's attack, so it was down to who could manoeuvre the other pair around to get a kill from the mid-court or the net.
We proved to be the better at this game, and as the match got towards the business end, we were leading 19-17.
Two points. A full blue was only two points away. The nerves suddenly gripped me.
I don't remember exactly how the last four points played out, but it went something like this:
They served, and we got on the attack, I smashed, and they defended with a very deep lift. I left it, perhaps a part of me wishing that it would go out, the shuttle landed an inch in. 19-18.
My partner turned to me.
"We just need one more point."
If we had gotten to 20, we would have put them under tremendous pressure.
The next point, I tried to attack off their serve, and ended up pushing the shuttle just long. This let the score go to 19-19.
Another serve, another short rally. I don't remember what happened, but this gave them match point. 19-20.
It was my receive of serve. As I stepped up to receive, my heart hammered in my chest - this was the do or die moment. I had pushed several service returns into the net before, and also one just long. I knew that if I lifted, it would probably end badly - I had to make the return flat.
He served, and I made a good flat drive. Our opponents returned with another good drive, which my partner pushed in a drop. However, the other pair were onto the net faster - perhaps sensing their opportunity, and managed to push the shuttle past me deep into the backhand corner. My partner tried to scramble to lift it clear, but unfortunately it went into the net.
21-19. Game over.
I forced a smile as I shook their hands. I felt numb inside - I couldn't really comprehend what had happened. It was only on the drive back that it sank in, we were two points away, and we choked.
Now, I know right now I am in a world of disappointment, and probably will be for a few days, but I am still immensely proud of what we have achieved.
Without wishing to dramatise, and looking back on the weekend now, what happened was like an Olympic moment for me. I doubt that I will ever take part in such a high level tournament ever again (the top seeds in the tournament are all ex junior national and international players), let alone make it through to the last 32. We played out of our skins all weekend, and although we were favoured by a good draw, we still had to play good Badminton to advance. And it wasn't like we were completely outmatched at the end; we had the skill in our hands but just lacked a slight amount of mental composure (or at least I did, I don't know how my partner felt).
For me, it feels like that although we didn't take home the gold, we got the silver; I can be happy with that.
I kept one of the shuttles that we practised with in the squash courts prior to the match, and I've written the scores of our last match on the cork.
It's not something I'll forget.
13 November 2010
Day 5
Writing a blog about how busy a Cambridge term is doesn't work if you are too busy to write it.
Or maybe that fact alone conveys more than I could ever say using words?
Anyway...
Fear not, this series of "A week in the life of..." will be completed, however, as you'll probably have noticed, my original plan of writing one blog post a day has sort of slipped.
However, we shall continue on, for in the land of blog, it is now Day 5.
Before I start the meat of this post, I would like to say that these views are perhaps not representative of some Engineers, who have god given problem solving skills and may in fact be the pan-dimensional beings mentioned in the Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy. So take from this what you will.
Examples papers.
They are to undergraduate engineers what the stone blocks of the pyramids were to the Egyptian slaves. Under the metaphorical whips of our supervision timetable, we engineers slave deep into the night pondering the answers to questions which we were told we can do, but, really, actually, cannot.
Group a collection of engineers together, and the topic of conversation will assuredly arrive at these A4-ified incarnations of hell. As if it wasn't enough not to be able to do them, we then have to talk about them during our free time because well, we haven't done anything else in the last x number of days and so, that is the only topic of conversation at hand.
To be honest though, at first glance, they appear to be harmless; only a few sides of A4 printed with a collection of an average of 10 questions. However, therein lies the first subtle warning; easy questions do not take pages of A4 space.
Unfortunately, there is no second warning. It's like driving on a motorway and seeing a little blinking yellow light at the side of the road. And then you crash into a giant mound of poo.
If you ever pick up one of these examples sheets, you may be tempted to tell me that it's not all bad - they have some easy questions (marked by a cross), some normal questions, and then some hard questions (marked by a star) - sounds like a sensible progression.
Well, you'd be wrong. I actually interpret those question markers as being there to indicate how stupid I will feel when I subsequently can't do it, having put the heavy weight of expectation on my intellectually slender shoulders.
Cross - Absolute idiot. The exit is that way.
Normal Question - Lose some confidence in your abilities as an engineer.
Star - Well, its not too bad. You'll be made to look stupid in the supervision though.
Let's note here, when I say "Can't do it.", I don't mean having looked at the question and been unable to immediately come up with an answer, I mean having bashed my head at it for 3 hours...not literally though; that would be a less than optimal way of answering questions.
Now, one of these papers sounds bad enough. But actually in the course of a term, an Engineer will have to do roughly two or three a week (they can take anywhere from 5 hours to ∞), with supervisions, which are one hour sessions of two students to one supervisor, to make sure that you are keeping up. The sheer amount of work is compounded by the fact that very often, one will be doing these questions when hungover, or at 5am (my favourite time of the day) to be handed in the following morning - not exactly at the height of ones intellectual prowess.
Still, an all-nighter still beats peeing on work you've already done whilst drunk, and having to re-do it from scratch as the urine washed away all the ink.
I doff my proverbial hat to one of my friends, who has done just this.
Or maybe that fact alone conveys more than I could ever say using words?
Anyway...
Fear not, this series of "A week in the life of..." will be completed, however, as you'll probably have noticed, my original plan of writing one blog post a day has sort of slipped.
However, we shall continue on, for in the land of blog, it is now Day 5.
Before I start the meat of this post, I would like to say that these views are perhaps not representative of some Engineers, who have god given problem solving skills and may in fact be the pan-dimensional beings mentioned in the Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy. So take from this what you will.
Examples papers.
They are to undergraduate engineers what the stone blocks of the pyramids were to the Egyptian slaves. Under the metaphorical whips of our supervision timetable, we engineers slave deep into the night pondering the answers to questions which we were told we can do, but, really, actually, cannot.
Group a collection of engineers together, and the topic of conversation will assuredly arrive at these A4-ified incarnations of hell. As if it wasn't enough not to be able to do them, we then have to talk about them during our free time because well, we haven't done anything else in the last x number of days and so, that is the only topic of conversation at hand.
To be honest though, at first glance, they appear to be harmless; only a few sides of A4 printed with a collection of an average of 10 questions. However, therein lies the first subtle warning; easy questions do not take pages of A4 space.
Unfortunately, there is no second warning. It's like driving on a motorway and seeing a little blinking yellow light at the side of the road. And then you crash into a giant mound of poo.
If you ever pick up one of these examples sheets, you may be tempted to tell me that it's not all bad - they have some easy questions (marked by a cross), some normal questions, and then some hard questions (marked by a star) - sounds like a sensible progression.
Well, you'd be wrong. I actually interpret those question markers as being there to indicate how stupid I will feel when I subsequently can't do it, having put the heavy weight of expectation on my intellectually slender shoulders.
Cross - Absolute idiot. The exit is that way.
Normal Question - Lose some confidence in your abilities as an engineer.
Star - Well, its not too bad. You'll be made to look stupid in the supervision though.
Let's note here, when I say "Can't do it.", I don't mean having looked at the question and been unable to immediately come up with an answer, I mean having bashed my head at it for 3 hours...not literally though; that would be a less than optimal way of answering questions.
Now, one of these papers sounds bad enough. But actually in the course of a term, an Engineer will have to do roughly two or three a week (they can take anywhere from 5 hours to ∞), with supervisions, which are one hour sessions of two students to one supervisor, to make sure that you are keeping up. The sheer amount of work is compounded by the fact that very often, one will be doing these questions when hungover, or at 5am (my favourite time of the day) to be handed in the following morning - not exactly at the height of ones intellectual prowess.
Still, an all-nighter still beats peeing on work you've already done whilst drunk, and having to re-do it from scratch as the urine washed away all the ink.
I doff my proverbial hat to one of my friends, who has done just this.
7 November 2010
Day 3 & 4
I wanted to write a post for the weekend, detailing the outrageous activites of Cambridge students when there are no lectures (sorry Nat-Scis), and pass on some of the funny anecdotes I've heard over the years.
However, I spent most of Saturday working, and then drinking, and most of today having a hangover, which leaves me in a state unfit to write a lengthy humour filled blog post.
With that in mind, I instead thought to myself, "what would a love note be like if an electrical engineer wrote it?", and came up with the following travestic piece of literature.
Something happens when we touch.
The spark of chemistry.
Electrons of feeling, drifting back and forth between you and me. Net motion is zero, but somehow, it feels like a current is flowing.
I wish my heart was like a rechargeable battery, so I could store and cherish the warmth you send to me, saving it up for those cold evenings spent alone.
Unfortunately, it's more like a capacitor. I guess that just means you'll have to stay by my side always.
How do I feel about you?
It can be elucidated by three simple words.
However, I spent most of Saturday working, and then drinking, and most of today having a hangover, which leaves me in a state unfit to write a lengthy humour filled blog post.
With that in mind, I instead thought to myself, "what would a love note be like if an electrical engineer wrote it?", and came up with the following travestic piece of literature.
Something happens when we touch.
The spark of chemistry.
Electrons of feeling, drifting back and forth between you and me. Net motion is zero, but somehow, it feels like a current is flowing.
I wish my heart was like a rechargeable battery, so I could store and cherish the warmth you send to me, saving it up for those cold evenings spent alone.
Unfortunately, it's more like a capacitor. I guess that just means you'll have to stay by my side always.
How do I feel about you?
It can be elucidated by three simple words.
5 November 2010
Day 2
Morning routines.
My morning routines used to be quite simple when I was in school - get away with as much sleep as possible until my mum shouted at me to get up, and then rush my way out of the house in order not to miss the bus, which was always a 50/50 affair.
Now though, well, nothing has changed really, except I only have an alarm clock shouting at me, and I cycle, which means I can never really miss my mode of transport, but it does make me late to lectures more often than not.
The alarm clock always goes off 1 hour before the lectures start. I then spend 45 minutes attempting the task of getting up and getting washed. The remaining minutes go on getting dressed, cramming down a cereal bar and cycling furiously, though not at the same time.
Cycling in Cambridge is quite a lot of fun, especially if you have a bit of a bastard streak in you, and sometimes enjoy making pedestrians jump out of the way in fear (admit it, you do secretly like it!). That's not to say I swerve onto the pavements for the sole purpose of scattering innocent townspeople in my dash to the Engineering Department. Indeed, that would be rather counterproductive to the actual task of getting to lectures. It's just that, for a city where bike usage is so prevalent, pedestrians (even the would-be cyclists) do seem to be blissfully unaware of them most of the time.
One of my friends can attest to this fact, having taken out a fair few of them in his cycling career thus far.
With this in mind, I present the following question.
"If a cyclist, travelling at a speed of Very Fast, is a distance Very Close away from you when you step out into the road, will they be able to stop in time to avoid hitting you?"
Pose that question to anyone, and the answer will of course be a "No". However, people seem to stumble when it comes to actually applying this logic to crossing roads, instead favouring the technique of "If I don't look, then I won't see anything, and if I don't see anything, then it doesn't exist."
The person who invented the green cross code would probably be very cross indeed at the state of affairs in this city.
Anyway, cycling over, I arrive at lectures - usually in a sweaty mess, and that's how my day gets underway.
My morning routines used to be quite simple when I was in school - get away with as much sleep as possible until my mum shouted at me to get up, and then rush my way out of the house in order not to miss the bus, which was always a 50/50 affair.
Now though, well, nothing has changed really, except I only have an alarm clock shouting at me, and I cycle, which means I can never really miss my mode of transport, but it does make me late to lectures more often than not.
The alarm clock always goes off 1 hour before the lectures start. I then spend 45 minutes attempting the task of getting up and getting washed. The remaining minutes go on getting dressed, cramming down a cereal bar and cycling furiously, though not at the same time.
Cycling in Cambridge is quite a lot of fun, especially if you have a bit of a bastard streak in you, and sometimes enjoy making pedestrians jump out of the way in fear (admit it, you do secretly like it!). That's not to say I swerve onto the pavements for the sole purpose of scattering innocent townspeople in my dash to the Engineering Department. Indeed, that would be rather counterproductive to the actual task of getting to lectures. It's just that, for a city where bike usage is so prevalent, pedestrians (even the would-be cyclists) do seem to be blissfully unaware of them most of the time.
One of my friends can attest to this fact, having taken out a fair few of them in his cycling career thus far.
With this in mind, I present the following question.
"If a cyclist, travelling at a speed of Very Fast, is a distance Very Close away from you when you step out into the road, will they be able to stop in time to avoid hitting you?"
Pose that question to anyone, and the answer will of course be a "No". However, people seem to stumble when it comes to actually applying this logic to crossing roads, instead favouring the technique of "If I don't look, then I won't see anything, and if I don't see anything, then it doesn't exist."
The person who invented the green cross code would probably be very cross indeed at the state of affairs in this city.
Anyway, cycling over, I arrive at lectures - usually in a sweaty mess, and that's how my day gets underway.
4 November 2010
A Week in the Life of...
Part of the reason I started this blog was not only to have my own personal internet soapbox available to me again, but also to try and share what it is like to be a final year undergraduate at Cambridge University.
With those two thoughts in mind, it appears I haven't really done too much of the latter; something which I will attempt to rectify over the next week, but before I start spieling off stuff like that, I'd like you to note that my experiences are probably not representative of the average undergraduate experience, in fact, I have no idea what that would be. I just know that as an Engineer, I tend to work a lot harder, have a lot more 9 o'clock lectures, and probably drink more coffee than someone, say, studying Philosophy (they may make up this time with deep, wine fuelled discussions late at night though, so who am I to say?).
In Cambridge, the week actually begins on Thursday, which is why the first post of this series is posted when it is. So, this is the start of Week 5, commonly associated with something known as Week 5 blues. This occurs to people because Week 5 is generally the time when people have realised that shit has hit the fan work-wise (that happens usually in Week 4), tried to do something about it, and realised that the rate of them clearing the shit doesn't match up with the rate at which it's incoming. (Again, this applies to Engineering, and other proper subjects. Philosophy students can just carry on going to Cindies as normal).
So on my to-do list, it goes something like this:
Let's not forget time for sleeping and drinking too (not necessarily in that order).
Now, you might have read that list and thought to yourself "Compu...what now?", along with other synonymous expressions of confusion. It doesn't matter, you can replace those bits with "Complex Engineering Stuff the Author doesn't understand" without subtracting from the overall meaning one bit.
I would however, like to talk about the Eco Racing society a bit.
Cambridge University Eco Racing (www.cuer.co.uk) is a student run society attempting to build a solar car to race 3000km across Australia in October 2011, as part of the World Solar Challenge. I, somehow, have been made the Aerodynamics Team Leader for this attempt, which I find absolutely fantastic, a little scary, and very daunting all at the same time. Essentially, I am responsible for the design of the whole outer shape of the car, trying to make it as streamlined and slippery as possible. Also, if the car flies off the road, it will probably be my fault.
LOOK:
Now, granted, that won't happen to our car because of Aerodynamic gubbins that I do understand, but still, better not cock up.
More tomorrow!
With those two thoughts in mind, it appears I haven't really done too much of the latter; something which I will attempt to rectify over the next week, but before I start spieling off stuff like that, I'd like you to note that my experiences are probably not representative of the average undergraduate experience, in fact, I have no idea what that would be. I just know that as an Engineer, I tend to work a lot harder, have a lot more 9 o'clock lectures, and probably drink more coffee than someone, say, studying Philosophy (they may make up this time with deep, wine fuelled discussions late at night though, so who am I to say?).
In Cambridge, the week actually begins on Thursday, which is why the first post of this series is posted when it is. So, this is the start of Week 5, commonly associated with something known as Week 5 blues. This occurs to people because Week 5 is generally the time when people have realised that shit has hit the fan work-wise (that happens usually in Week 4), tried to do something about it, and realised that the rate of them clearing the shit doesn't match up with the rate at which it's incoming. (Again, this applies to Engineering, and other proper subjects. Philosophy students can just carry on going to Cindies as normal).
So on my to-do list, it goes something like this:
- Computational Fluid Dynamics Interim Report, due Wed 10th (not started).
- Transonic Wing Design Interim Report, due Tues 16th (not started).
- 4th Year Project Interim Progress Meeting, Mon 8th (doing okay!)
- Organise University Badminton Away to Worcester for Wed 10th
- Organise Aerodynamics Team for the Eco Racing society, ASAP!
Let's not forget time for sleeping and drinking too (not necessarily in that order).
Now, you might have read that list and thought to yourself "Compu...what now?", along with other synonymous expressions of confusion. It doesn't matter, you can replace those bits with "Complex Engineering Stuff the Author doesn't understand" without subtracting from the overall meaning one bit.
I would however, like to talk about the Eco Racing society a bit.
Cambridge University Eco Racing (www.cuer.co.uk) is a student run society attempting to build a solar car to race 3000km across Australia in October 2011, as part of the World Solar Challenge. I, somehow, have been made the Aerodynamics Team Leader for this attempt, which I find absolutely fantastic, a little scary, and very daunting all at the same time. Essentially, I am responsible for the design of the whole outer shape of the car, trying to make it as streamlined and slippery as possible. Also, if the car flies off the road, it will probably be my fault.
LOOK:
Now, granted, that won't happen to our car because of Aerodynamic gubbins that I do understand, but still, better not cock up.
More tomorrow!
12 October 2010
Robot Overlords Beware
Let's put this out there, I like taking opportunities when they present themselves to me. The way I feel when I miss an opportunity is probably the same way a normal person feels when they've been short changed to the tune of £49, when paying for something from the Pound Shop, with a Fifty.
I think it satisfies some sort of intrinsic Chinese ethic in me where I feel if I take an opportunity presented to me, it means I'm getting a better deal out of life - value for money is very important after all. If I sit on my ass all day, I feel like I'm missing out, and that makes me sad.
But, it does leave me in a bit of a bind sometimes, as opportunities nowadays usually come with a healthy dose of responsibility. Such as captaining the Cambridge University Badminton Team. All well and good, until you lose half of the fresher's sign ups because you mistook the sheets of paper for trash and threw them away. Gone are the days where you could just rock up somewhere and do something because the opportunity presented itself, and if it screwed up, well, you could always blame your parents.
This does scare me somewhat, because I can just imagine myself in the future, having taken the opportunity of captaining say, a large company, mistake an important financial report for trash and throw it away.
How do you stop things like that happening? I guess that you can't, since they fall firmly under the realm of "Human Error". Throughout history, humans have fallen from grace by making the most stupid of errors.
One example which pops to my mind is the Mars Climate Orbiter, which ultimately failed because of a unit conversion error. You may lambast the software programmer who ultimately was responsible, but instead, you should sympathise with him. One day, it will be your mistake and with the stares directed at you and your cheeks burning red hot with embarassment, you'll wish everyone was just a bit more understanding.
Now, this actually comes off as a bit of a rant, and that's not what it is meant to be. My fellow Badminton players were very understanding, and the 14 JCR presidents who helped me by forwarding the e-mail to their College mailing lists were also very understanding (the other 17 weren't).
So I guess I'm writing this for the sake of our future selves, who, if you believe in my parent's friend from China, with a PhD in medicine, will be enslaved by robot overlords at a not-too-distant point in time.
To Nascent Robot Overlords:
We'll make rubbish slaves! We need food three times a day, an 8 hour long recharge every 24 hours, we'll pee and shit everywhere, whine about the working conditions and get tired. But, most irritatingly, we will make mistakes, and it doesn't matter how "killed to death" we will be if we screw up, we will.
God, I hate human nature sometimes.
I think it satisfies some sort of intrinsic Chinese ethic in me where I feel if I take an opportunity presented to me, it means I'm getting a better deal out of life - value for money is very important after all. If I sit on my ass all day, I feel like I'm missing out, and that makes me sad.
But, it does leave me in a bit of a bind sometimes, as opportunities nowadays usually come with a healthy dose of responsibility. Such as captaining the Cambridge University Badminton Team. All well and good, until you lose half of the fresher's sign ups because you mistook the sheets of paper for trash and threw them away. Gone are the days where you could just rock up somewhere and do something because the opportunity presented itself, and if it screwed up, well, you could always blame your parents.
This does scare me somewhat, because I can just imagine myself in the future, having taken the opportunity of captaining say, a large company, mistake an important financial report for trash and throw it away.
How do you stop things like that happening? I guess that you can't, since they fall firmly under the realm of "Human Error". Throughout history, humans have fallen from grace by making the most stupid of errors.
One example which pops to my mind is the Mars Climate Orbiter, which ultimately failed because of a unit conversion error. You may lambast the software programmer who ultimately was responsible, but instead, you should sympathise with him. One day, it will be your mistake and with the stares directed at you and your cheeks burning red hot with embarassment, you'll wish everyone was just a bit more understanding.
Now, this actually comes off as a bit of a rant, and that's not what it is meant to be. My fellow Badminton players were very understanding, and the 14 JCR presidents who helped me by forwarding the e-mail to their College mailing lists were also very understanding (the other 17 weren't).
So I guess I'm writing this for the sake of our future selves, who, if you believe in my parent's friend from China, with a PhD in medicine, will be enslaved by robot overlords at a not-too-distant point in time.
To Nascent Robot Overlords:
We'll make rubbish slaves! We need food three times a day, an 8 hour long recharge every 24 hours, we'll pee and shit everywhere, whine about the working conditions and get tired. But, most irritatingly, we will make mistakes, and it doesn't matter how "killed to death" we will be if we screw up, we will.
God, I hate human nature sometimes.
4 October 2010
3 October 2010
Blood and Water
My Grandfather passed away in 2007. May he rest in peace.
I have to confess, at the time I was told this information - around Christmas time, my reaction was quite muted. Obviously, I had expected myself to feel sad, but instead it was just sort of a "Oh. Well. That sucks." This sort of thought is fine if say, you've just dropped your coat in a puddle, but for a relative dying, it's not appropriate.
I felt awful for not feeling more broken up about it. Selfish, right?
But finally, now, I think I understand why I felt that way.
You see, I came to England at the age of four (and a bit), and although we had had several visits back to China, I had really not had that much contact with my relatives over there, and pre-occupied as I was with being cool and being as white as I could be (let's be brutally honest here, for the most part, Secondary School was a giant well of low self-esteem and awkwardness). I didn't really think all that much of all the people in China who we had left behind.
Now though, I feel like I'm older, and perhaps a bit wiser (debatable!), I can truly appreciate the meaning that "blood is thicker than water". Now, I'm not sure whether this implies that if you aren't relatives to someone then you share water, instead of blood. Well, I guess this is true in that 70% of a humans composition is water and this will be shared since water doesn't contain DNA...but...let's get off this tangent before I digress totally.
When I went back to my home town Urumqi, we went to visit my Grandfather's grave. In China this is called 扫墓, this translates literally to "Sweeping of the tomb". It is tradition to visit and clean the grave of your relatives, we poured water over the gravestone, and cleared away the bits of mud and dust that had gathered. Then, we lit some incense, and made offerings of fruits, and mooncakes (since it was the mid-autumn festival), and also some sweets which were his favourites.
At this point, it all hit me.
It didn't matter how long I was apart from him for, or really, how much I had seen him in the short years of my life. To him, I would have been his grandchild, and he would have felt the same towards me whether I had been in China or not. This sort of unconditional love is the reserve of family only, and it made me realise just how important family is.
We then burned some paper money, to send to him in heaven, so he could live a comfortable afterlife. The flames licked at the mock notes, and they gradually curled and turned to ashes. A small breeze lifted a few ashes into the air.
My cousin said this was a sign that my Grandfather was comfortable in heaven. He said that if the deceased needed money, the ashes would float upwards. My intellectual mind told me this was all gibberish, but it brought warmth to my heart to know that, maybe, he was up there, having a good time, and watching over all of us, and at the end of the day, that's what's important.
I searched back in my memory for impressions of my Grandfather. He wasn't a particularly large man, but you could not call him frail. He had the sort of presence, and deliberacy and precision of movement, that those long time practitioners of kung fu are blessed with. I remember him being a gentle person as well, quick to laugh, slow to anger.
Some particular memories popped up at me - ones I won't ever forget - these are my link to him, and I will keep them in my heart forever. I remember once, there was a terrible thunderstorm over our village. The thunder shook the house, and I cowered in the living room, too scared to even move. The particulars become blurry now, but I think what happened was that he came over and put his hands on my shoulders, and he said he would channel his strength into me. Stupid I know right? But, then, I wasn't scared anymore.
The same unconditional love and welcome was displayed by all the family we re-united with. On the one hand, you could say it was expected because we are family, but on the other hand, if there were no blood ties between us, you would have said I was a stranger to them.
It's odd, because before this trip, I wouldn't have said I felt anything was missing, but, in seeing all my uncles and aunties, sharing stories of school in England and hanging out with my cousins, I felt like a hole was filled in me, without me ever knowing it was there before. Before we left to return to England, I made promises to keep in touch with them (like I did every time), but this time, I will keep that promise, for sure.
There are a lot of people in this world who take their family for granted, who get tired of seeing that annoying uncle every few months, or can't stop fighting with a cousin whenever the two are together. This is my message to them, as someone who can only see their relatives once every few years, telling them to treasure what they have - you don't know how good you have it.
I have to confess, at the time I was told this information - around Christmas time, my reaction was quite muted. Obviously, I had expected myself to feel sad, but instead it was just sort of a "Oh. Well. That sucks." This sort of thought is fine if say, you've just dropped your coat in a puddle, but for a relative dying, it's not appropriate.
I felt awful for not feeling more broken up about it. Selfish, right?
But finally, now, I think I understand why I felt that way.
You see, I came to England at the age of four (and a bit), and although we had had several visits back to China, I had really not had that much contact with my relatives over there, and pre-occupied as I was with being cool and being as white as I could be (let's be brutally honest here, for the most part, Secondary School was a giant well of low self-esteem and awkwardness). I didn't really think all that much of all the people in China who we had left behind.
Now though, I feel like I'm older, and perhaps a bit wiser (debatable!), I can truly appreciate the meaning that "blood is thicker than water". Now, I'm not sure whether this implies that if you aren't relatives to someone then you share water, instead of blood. Well, I guess this is true in that 70% of a humans composition is water and this will be shared since water doesn't contain DNA...but...let's get off this tangent before I digress totally.
When I went back to my home town Urumqi, we went to visit my Grandfather's grave. In China this is called 扫墓, this translates literally to "Sweeping of the tomb". It is tradition to visit and clean the grave of your relatives, we poured water over the gravestone, and cleared away the bits of mud and dust that had gathered. Then, we lit some incense, and made offerings of fruits, and mooncakes (since it was the mid-autumn festival), and also some sweets which were his favourites.
At this point, it all hit me.
It didn't matter how long I was apart from him for, or really, how much I had seen him in the short years of my life. To him, I would have been his grandchild, and he would have felt the same towards me whether I had been in China or not. This sort of unconditional love is the reserve of family only, and it made me realise just how important family is.
We then burned some paper money, to send to him in heaven, so he could live a comfortable afterlife. The flames licked at the mock notes, and they gradually curled and turned to ashes. A small breeze lifted a few ashes into the air.
My cousin said this was a sign that my Grandfather was comfortable in heaven. He said that if the deceased needed money, the ashes would float upwards. My intellectual mind told me this was all gibberish, but it brought warmth to my heart to know that, maybe, he was up there, having a good time, and watching over all of us, and at the end of the day, that's what's important.
I searched back in my memory for impressions of my Grandfather. He wasn't a particularly large man, but you could not call him frail. He had the sort of presence, and deliberacy and precision of movement, that those long time practitioners of kung fu are blessed with. I remember him being a gentle person as well, quick to laugh, slow to anger.
Some particular memories popped up at me - ones I won't ever forget - these are my link to him, and I will keep them in my heart forever. I remember once, there was a terrible thunderstorm over our village. The thunder shook the house, and I cowered in the living room, too scared to even move. The particulars become blurry now, but I think what happened was that he came over and put his hands on my shoulders, and he said he would channel his strength into me. Stupid I know right? But, then, I wasn't scared anymore.
The same unconditional love and welcome was displayed by all the family we re-united with. On the one hand, you could say it was expected because we are family, but on the other hand, if there were no blood ties between us, you would have said I was a stranger to them.
It's odd, because before this trip, I wouldn't have said I felt anything was missing, but, in seeing all my uncles and aunties, sharing stories of school in England and hanging out with my cousins, I felt like a hole was filled in me, without me ever knowing it was there before. Before we left to return to England, I made promises to keep in touch with them (like I did every time), but this time, I will keep that promise, for sure.
There are a lot of people in this world who take their family for granted, who get tired of seeing that annoying uncle every few months, or can't stop fighting with a cousin whenever the two are together. This is my message to them, as someone who can only see their relatives once every few years, telling them to treasure what they have - you don't know how good you have it.
25 September 2010
A Collection of Thoughts
I consider myself to be somewhat of an introverted person (disregarding when I'm drunk of course), and so, left to my own devices I generally think about a lot of stuff, and think about stuff a lot. Now, most of these thoughts are about as useful as a chocolate tea pot, but, once in a while, something will pop up which could be worth sharing...so without further ado.
On Hong Kong
I wasn't sure what to expect when we arrived in Hong Kong, but I have to say I thoroughly like it. The reasons are three fold.
1. because English is everywhere, which makes life easy for the china-man who isn't really very good at Chinese (me!)
2. because the whole place is quite compact, and everything is only a short walk (and usually an elevator ride) away.
3. it's got everything. Want a shopping megaplex? It's there. Want to climb a mountain? It's there. Want to go to a theme park? Take your pick from Disneyland or Ocean Park. Want to go to the seaside (I hesitate to claim a beach exists in Hong Kong, but it probably does)? It's there. Excellent.
On the Shanghai World Expo
I was told beforehand that I would regret not going, but I would regret going even more. Well, now that I've been, I can proclaim that that's not the case.
Instead, I was left with a thorough feeling of bewilderment (as well as a feeling of borderline heat stroke) about what I had just seen.
Basically, we walked and queued (mostly queued) for 15 hours, my dear father insisted on taking a million photos. We saw some displays of stuff, from various countries, and I just didn't understand what it was for. I mean, if you were interested in said country, then you probably would have known most of it's foibles - the Dutch farm a lot of sheep, the French make cheese and wine, Saudai Arabia is all about the oil, and so on.
If you were interested in some of the technological displays, then you were probably also disappointed, given that there was nothing really technical to be shown. Instead, it was more of a laymans presentation. It was like watching on the big screen something you would read in the BBC technology news section - something I felt probably wasn't worth the hour of queueing. In the Korea tent, they had 3D TV's on display. Why? I mean, I could have just gone to my local Sony store and had a look there.
All in all, World Expo - worth going once to tick the box. Never again.
On good food.
Someone once said to me: "You can never have too much of a good thing."
Well, they were wrong. I present a case study of myself, who upon returning to China, proceeded to eat pretty much everything in sight. There was no shortage of excellent food, as we were treated to meal after meal by friends and family. Unfortunately, my stomach obviously found this a harder ask than my mouth, and, two weeks into the trip, decided it wasn't taking any more of this abuse.
When your stomach goes on a digesting strike, any food you try and eat inevitably re-appears in vomit form. Such was the case for me for two days. This annoyed me greatly, not because of the vomming, which was quite uncomfortable, but I had to miss six meals of great food. Sad times.
Interestingly enough, my dad suffered no such problems - he's obviously had more practise at eating loads of good food. I should learn from him.
That's all for now.
On Hong Kong
I wasn't sure what to expect when we arrived in Hong Kong, but I have to say I thoroughly like it. The reasons are three fold.
1. because English is everywhere, which makes life easy for the china-man who isn't really very good at Chinese (me!)
2. because the whole place is quite compact, and everything is only a short walk (and usually an elevator ride) away.
3. it's got everything. Want a shopping megaplex? It's there. Want to climb a mountain? It's there. Want to go to a theme park? Take your pick from Disneyland or Ocean Park. Want to go to the seaside (I hesitate to claim a beach exists in Hong Kong, but it probably does)? It's there. Excellent.
On the Shanghai World Expo
I was told beforehand that I would regret not going, but I would regret going even more. Well, now that I've been, I can proclaim that that's not the case.
Instead, I was left with a thorough feeling of bewilderment (as well as a feeling of borderline heat stroke) about what I had just seen.
Basically, we walked and queued (mostly queued) for 15 hours, my dear father insisted on taking a million photos. We saw some displays of stuff, from various countries, and I just didn't understand what it was for. I mean, if you were interested in said country, then you probably would have known most of it's foibles - the Dutch farm a lot of sheep, the French make cheese and wine, Saudai Arabia is all about the oil, and so on.
If you were interested in some of the technological displays, then you were probably also disappointed, given that there was nothing really technical to be shown. Instead, it was more of a laymans presentation. It was like watching on the big screen something you would read in the BBC technology news section - something I felt probably wasn't worth the hour of queueing. In the Korea tent, they had 3D TV's on display. Why? I mean, I could have just gone to my local Sony store and had a look there.
All in all, World Expo - worth going once to tick the box. Never again.
On good food.
Someone once said to me: "You can never have too much of a good thing."
Well, they were wrong. I present a case study of myself, who upon returning to China, proceeded to eat pretty much everything in sight. There was no shortage of excellent food, as we were treated to meal after meal by friends and family. Unfortunately, my stomach obviously found this a harder ask than my mouth, and, two weeks into the trip, decided it wasn't taking any more of this abuse.
When your stomach goes on a digesting strike, any food you try and eat inevitably re-appears in vomit form. Such was the case for me for two days. This annoyed me greatly, not because of the vomming, which was quite uncomfortable, but I had to miss six meals of great food. Sad times.
Interestingly enough, my dad suffered no such problems - he's obviously had more practise at eating loads of good food. I should learn from him.
That's all for now.
21 September 2010
On Driving in China
I thought about making an introductory blog post. The sort of post where I could spiel out my life story and you could read it and pretend to be interested, but let's face it, that would have been a waste of time for everyone involved.
Instead, I remembered that back in my teenage years, I used to blog and I've gone to the trouble of digging it up.
You can find it at http://qczhao.spaces.live.com/
It actually does have an introduction post, right at the beginning, and it also contains some posts which I re-read and found surprisingly entertaining, given that they were written by a nerdy 17 year old.
Anyway, as you should know, this summer I went back to China for the first time in 4 years. This is mainly due to all the work experience stuff I've been doing over the past few summers (gotta fill up that CV right?). All told, it was a fantastic holiday, and as I sit here in a jet-lagged state writing this, I am missing it very much.
China has changed a monumental amount in 4 years and despite an economic recession, there are new buildings being put up everywhere. I struggled to find any recognisable places from when I last went back. Coming from England, where most of building work you see are actually for the purposes of repair and renovation, it was an eye opener to see the amount of cranes and earthworks and new buildings being built. Quite exciting really.
However, some things just don't change, or don't change very much. One of these things is the style of driving.
Now, to be fair, it is quite different now in the major cities, from what I could tell from my brief stay in Shanghai anyway, but in the smaller towns and villages, it is still business as usual.
I think the word which best describes it is "cut-throat". Now, this isn't to say that you will be immediately killed to death should you attempt to go on the road, but it does sort of feel like being told to babysit a shark - the potential for catastrophe is rather high.
Let me elaborate. In England, everyone gives way to one another. In China, no one gives way to each other. It's a sort of Serengeti existence whereby, you can make progress along the roads if you a) have a big car (by that, I mean a truck or bus) or b) are brave. It's natural selection on wheels. There are no other rules really - lane markings exist only to provide suggestion of the number of lanes on the road. In reality, the number of lanes is dependant solely on the width of the cars trying to thread their way through said piece of road. If there are no cameras at a red light (or traffic police), then one can consider the red light to be a suggestion too. If you miss an exit on the highway, don't worry, just stop and reverse back up. You get the idea. Now, this can be somewhat fun, if you're in a car with a good driver, otherwise it's absolutely terrifying.
Case in point, we were picked up when we arrived from Hong Kong by a University friend of my parents. He had brought along with him a dedicated driver. This put me well at ease, until we got underway. Our driver seemed to regard the dotted line demarcing the edges of the lanes as something one should try and keep under the middle of the car, or maybe he liked both lanes so much he decided he should drive in both at the same time. He also seemed to be more focussed on enjoying his cigarette, than the road.
After he had finished his stint, it was the turn of my parents' University friend, and well, things got worse. In an automatic car, one must put one's foot on the brake in order to change gears. This didn't seem to be second nature to him, despite it being his car. Then we set off. How we didn't crash, I don't know, but I think I owe thanks to all the other drivers on the road on those particular days. His idea of driving straight was to meander slowly across the road, and horn at everything within a 20 metre radius of the car; maybe that's what saved us. I think when he took his driving lessons (I use the word lesson loosely), he probably got taught the horn-manoeuvre-horn system, rather than the mirror-signal-manoeuvre method which is used in England today. See some pedestrians walking on the pavement? Horn at them. See some guys on scooters who you just overtaken? Horn at them. Trying to overtake a lorry and see an oncoming car when you're on the wrong side of the road? Don't move back behind the lorry immediately, horn at the oncoming car first, and see what happens. Along with the HMH system, I think he also got taught the "any o clock - bullseye" steering wheel grip. That is, one hand on the wheel rim (wherever you want), the other hand poised over the horn. I later found out he had obtained his license via back door methods. So thankfully this is not representative of the average motorist in China.
Now, a note on the usage of the horn in China. It's very different, quite necessary and I think a much better system than in England. If you horn at someone over here, it's tantamount to rolling down the window and shouting obscenities at them. People don't like being horned at. In China, it's more of a "I don't think you've seen me, so I'm going to make a noise so you will know I'm here." sort of message, which in my opinion is much better. That's not to say you should horn at everything and anything (unless you are indeed my parents' friend), as that's just uncivilised.
Finally, a note on crossing roads in China. Whilst there do exist crossing points, cars do not give way to pedestrians waiting on the side of the road. It's a consequence of there being SO MANY cars on the road (and so many pedestrians), that if they were to wait for anything there would be eternal gridlock forever. So you, as the pedestrian, have to make things happen. The technique I see many people use, is to first make eye contact with the driver of the oncoming car who you are going to step out in front of (to make sure he has seen you), then make sure that there's enough distance between you and him so that he won't hit you if he slams on the brakes, then go for it, whilst trying not to crap your pants in fear.
So there you have it, now if you ever need to navigate the automotive corridors of China, either as a driver, or a pedestrian, you'll know what to expect.
Instead, I remembered that back in my teenage years, I used to blog and I've gone to the trouble of digging it up.
You can find it at http://qczhao.spaces.live.com/
It actually does have an introduction post, right at the beginning, and it also contains some posts which I re-read and found surprisingly entertaining, given that they were written by a nerdy 17 year old.
Anyway, as you should know, this summer I went back to China for the first time in 4 years. This is mainly due to all the work experience stuff I've been doing over the past few summers (gotta fill up that CV right?). All told, it was a fantastic holiday, and as I sit here in a jet-lagged state writing this, I am missing it very much.
China has changed a monumental amount in 4 years and despite an economic recession, there are new buildings being put up everywhere. I struggled to find any recognisable places from when I last went back. Coming from England, where most of building work you see are actually for the purposes of repair and renovation, it was an eye opener to see the amount of cranes and earthworks and new buildings being built. Quite exciting really.
However, some things just don't change, or don't change very much. One of these things is the style of driving.
Now, to be fair, it is quite different now in the major cities, from what I could tell from my brief stay in Shanghai anyway, but in the smaller towns and villages, it is still business as usual.
I think the word which best describes it is "cut-throat". Now, this isn't to say that you will be immediately killed to death should you attempt to go on the road, but it does sort of feel like being told to babysit a shark - the potential for catastrophe is rather high.
Let me elaborate. In England, everyone gives way to one another. In China, no one gives way to each other. It's a sort of Serengeti existence whereby, you can make progress along the roads if you a) have a big car (by that, I mean a truck or bus) or b) are brave. It's natural selection on wheels. There are no other rules really - lane markings exist only to provide suggestion of the number of lanes on the road. In reality, the number of lanes is dependant solely on the width of the cars trying to thread their way through said piece of road. If there are no cameras at a red light (or traffic police), then one can consider the red light to be a suggestion too. If you miss an exit on the highway, don't worry, just stop and reverse back up. You get the idea. Now, this can be somewhat fun, if you're in a car with a good driver, otherwise it's absolutely terrifying.
Case in point, we were picked up when we arrived from Hong Kong by a University friend of my parents. He had brought along with him a dedicated driver. This put me well at ease, until we got underway. Our driver seemed to regard the dotted line demarcing the edges of the lanes as something one should try and keep under the middle of the car, or maybe he liked both lanes so much he decided he should drive in both at the same time. He also seemed to be more focussed on enjoying his cigarette, than the road.
After he had finished his stint, it was the turn of my parents' University friend, and well, things got worse. In an automatic car, one must put one's foot on the brake in order to change gears. This didn't seem to be second nature to him, despite it being his car. Then we set off. How we didn't crash, I don't know, but I think I owe thanks to all the other drivers on the road on those particular days. His idea of driving straight was to meander slowly across the road, and horn at everything within a 20 metre radius of the car; maybe that's what saved us. I think when he took his driving lessons (I use the word lesson loosely), he probably got taught the horn-manoeuvre-horn system, rather than the mirror-signal-manoeuvre method which is used in England today. See some pedestrians walking on the pavement? Horn at them. See some guys on scooters who you just overtaken? Horn at them. Trying to overtake a lorry and see an oncoming car when you're on the wrong side of the road? Don't move back behind the lorry immediately, horn at the oncoming car first, and see what happens. Along with the HMH system, I think he also got taught the "any o clock - bullseye" steering wheel grip. That is, one hand on the wheel rim (wherever you want), the other hand poised over the horn. I later found out he had obtained his license via back door methods. So thankfully this is not representative of the average motorist in China.
Now, a note on the usage of the horn in China. It's very different, quite necessary and I think a much better system than in England. If you horn at someone over here, it's tantamount to rolling down the window and shouting obscenities at them. People don't like being horned at. In China, it's more of a "I don't think you've seen me, so I'm going to make a noise so you will know I'm here." sort of message, which in my opinion is much better. That's not to say you should horn at everything and anything (unless you are indeed my parents' friend), as that's just uncivilised.
Finally, a note on crossing roads in China. Whilst there do exist crossing points, cars do not give way to pedestrians waiting on the side of the road. It's a consequence of there being SO MANY cars on the road (and so many pedestrians), that if they were to wait for anything there would be eternal gridlock forever. So you, as the pedestrian, have to make things happen. The technique I see many people use, is to first make eye contact with the driver of the oncoming car who you are going to step out in front of (to make sure he has seen you), then make sure that there's enough distance between you and him so that he won't hit you if he slams on the brakes, then go for it, whilst trying not to crap your pants in fear.
So there you have it, now if you ever need to navigate the automotive corridors of China, either as a driver, or a pedestrian, you'll know what to expect.
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