A new check on my list of accomplishments: I gave my first public speech at our official GLOBE graduation. Having suffered from a strong stammer and a fear of public speaking as a child, it was a personal accomplishment. But also taught me first hand why public speaking is so hard.
First, a good speech. You need to have something to say, so unless you are Abraham Lincoln, most public speakers have their speeches written for them. Second, you need to rehearse it so that it feels natural. Ever written something semi-academic and then read it out loud? Sounds absolutely horrific. Short and crisp trumps long and detailed every time. Finally, you have to deliver it forcefully, empathetically, and (to highlight my weakness) slowly. After looking at the same words for so long, you race through the points without thinking twice - make sure other people get them as well.
Public speaking, to me, is one of the greatest skills possibly
acquirable. If you have the gift of oration you can voice
opinions and defeat arguments. You can convey messages in their simplest
form and in their strongest meaning. You can stir emotions and guide actions, and you are able to convince other men to follow your cause. Influential statesmen such as Jefferson, Lincoln, and Churchill have all been magnificent orators. Hitler, probably the greatest orator of the 20th century, is a perverse testimony to the power of speech.
The GLOBE speech was about anything - the only constraint was 5 minutes. Each school picked a speaker, so since there was a risk of them all being the same, I tried to pick a specific topic which all 45 students could still relate to. I wanted to make a point, but without jamming my opinions down other peoples throats. I wanted to speak to everyone individually, but I wanted to speak for everyone collectively. So I decided upon the topic of choice and tried to put some words to the puzzling realization that even after spending 18 months together on GLOBE, why are we now more different than ever before?
It wasn't exactly Pericles' funeral oration, but it went well. I missed a few opportunities to hammer home my points using my voice, and I had a couple of nervous stumbles. My style of writing definitely doesn't appeal to everyone, so not everyone was equally thrilled. But a couple of people complimented it, which I really appreciated, and I learnt from it. A good start to, hopefully, a long list of successful speeches.
GLOBE graduation speech, December 5th 2012. Any names have been removed.
As a child, I had a couple of phobias: heights, public speaking. But my greatest phobia was making the wrong choice. I would therefore try to get as many options as possible, I would try to keep them open for as long as possible, and in the end I would try to make sure I make the best possible choice - whatever that means.
In that sense, GLOBE was perfect for me. It represented unlimited possibilities, especially compared to a structured, student routine in Denmark. For me, GLOBE was the opportunity to learn business, languages, culture, social relations, the opportunity to travel for adventure, for taste, for family living, and simply for pleasure. I t was the opportunity to sharpen my talents and to improve my weaknesses. It was the opportunity to explore and be curious, and to hone in and be focused. It was an opportunity to make networks and friends, and time to focus on personal development.
We all had these opportunities. We were given a million options and told, expected even, to get everything out of it. If I didn’t come back to Denmark having trekked across Indonesia, been swimming with dolphins, become an expert in Chinese cuisine and road-tripped all the way across America, in their eyes, I would not have made the most of GLOBE. With so many options, equally many choices. Now at the close, out of the millions of choices I made, I feel the one with the most impact was: The choice to seek out differences and to try and understand them.
Being bilingual, born and raised in Africa, I thought: “I have experience a fair amount about cultural differences”. But from the very first day on GLOBE, it was evident that there are even more I don't understand: "Why do Americans persistently wear a visible white t-shirt with their otherwise flashy Ralph Lauren shirts?". "How could xxx breakfast simply be a whole liter of full-fat milk?". "And how could xxx be so lazy and still have a higher GPA than me?".
Over time, as I was busy trying to understand you, you all helped me understand myself: "How could I slam the perceived over-ambition of Asians without ever discussing the topic with someone who has tried it?". "Why did I not invite more people back to my parent’s house, when your gratitude for doing so was so obvious?". "And how could I not go to the Library on a Monday night when they have $1 well drinks?".
We began in similar positions in our lives, and we now leave more scattered than ever before. We made strong connections with some people, while others are simply acquaintances. It is as it should be – we made our choices, trying to move towards our dreams and ideals, and GLOBE is simply a point on the path towards that. Now, it has served its purpose, giving us the understanding, experiences, and friends we need to make the next big round of choices in our lives.
My fear of choices often came in justifying them. The “I want to” statement never really resonated well with me. Growing up, being different; the choices I made: to go to school, to work hard – they were all justified by an idea, the vision of “I am going somewhere”. I thought that at some time in my life, I would find people who understood these choices.
I have found many of you in GLOBE. But I was wrong: we shouldn’t have to justify our choices. We shouldn’t have to justify why we spend that extra hour on PowerPoint slides for Private Equity, or why we would want to travel that little bit extra and just settle for a B+. Everyone come from different paths, have different desires, and value their options differently.
So as we move forward in our lives, I hope you all get to make your choices as you see fit. I hope they take you toward that which fulfils you and makes you happy, regardless of whether those choices contain fame, money, family, personal experiences or human salvation. And when your travels take you through Denmark, I hope you’ll choose to give me a call. I promise - you will never have to justify it.
fredag den 7. december 2012
tirsdag den 4. december 2012
Behavioural finance
Recommended by my awesome derivatives professor, I took a behavioural finance course in the final quarter. Spanning the gap between my inherent desire for reason and the obvious realization that the world is not so, it also included elements of psychology, leadership and game theory. Having just finished my final lecture, it is time for contemplation: numerous take-aways, great in-class discussions, extremely competent professor, and (my favourite) a tool to understand why so many things we learn in school are inherently wrong due to human nature.
The best example, and perhaps the most fun, was a game we played: Everyone in the room writes down a number between 0 and 100. The numbers were then all averaged, and the winner of the $20 prize was the person with the number closest to 2/3 of that average. Mathematically there is an optimal solution, but for non-mathematicians, the way to think about it is what happened if you were playing against a large sample of trained baboons. They would write down random numbers between 0 and 100, implying that their average would 50. You should therefore write two-thirds of that number (33) to claim the $20. However, although you may sometimes think so, most of your classmates have more thinking capabilities than your average baboon. They are in business school, have gotten decent grades, and since you figured out that 33 is a good number, they probably will also. Thus the actual average will be 33, so you should write 22. But then they will figure this our as well, so you should write 15 - and so on. This gets you to the realization that the optimal number you should write is 0.
Let us pivot to think about the stock market. If the optimal value of an asset / a firm can be determined, then smart people investing should be able to figure this out and price the asset / firm accordingly. The underlying notion of functioning markets is that investors are rational - implying that the value of the asset / firm is fully reflected in its price.
Back to the game: so far, so good. You are a perfect specimen of rationality, intellectually supreme, and a model student of your University. You are also not going to win the $20. Because the actual game is not picking the correct number, it is essentially assessing what the ratio of baboons to business intellectuals in your class is, and what those baboons are likely to pick as a number. You can also think about the baboon's developing intellectuality, so how many times they go through the problem. Just because he realizes that the average of the class is going to be 50 and puts 33, he may not realize that others will think the same way.
That game, unfortunately, I am less good at. Having played this game several times now, people tend to do 2-3 iterations of the problem, so somewhere between 15 and 20 is a good bet. The smaller the class, the more a potential baboon can wreck havoc and the more other factors will have an effect, such as whether you think the semi-hungover junior in the corner who buttoned his shirt asymmetrically this morning actually understood the rules.
I picked "17" in a small class (13 people), which would have been bang on if only somebody hadn't put 93 (!). Being overly competitive I unfortunately blurted out that that is not even a possible winning number, even if everyone picked 100 - apologies. But is does show that just because you are in a business school, doesn't mean you are not a baboon.
Relating back to the stock market idiom, the takeaway is pretty obvious. It doesn't matter what the true value is, it only matters what people think the true value is. Markets should be inherently efficient, but because people are not, neither will they. If you give a good model to a huge group of baboon investors, the real skill which will create value is understanding baboon psychology. I picked the wrong business major.
The best example, and perhaps the most fun, was a game we played: Everyone in the room writes down a number between 0 and 100. The numbers were then all averaged, and the winner of the $20 prize was the person with the number closest to 2/3 of that average. Mathematically there is an optimal solution, but for non-mathematicians, the way to think about it is what happened if you were playing against a large sample of trained baboons. They would write down random numbers between 0 and 100, implying that their average would 50. You should therefore write two-thirds of that number (33) to claim the $20. However, although you may sometimes think so, most of your classmates have more thinking capabilities than your average baboon. They are in business school, have gotten decent grades, and since you figured out that 33 is a good number, they probably will also. Thus the actual average will be 33, so you should write 22. But then they will figure this our as well, so you should write 15 - and so on. This gets you to the realization that the optimal number you should write is 0.
Let us pivot to think about the stock market. If the optimal value of an asset / a firm can be determined, then smart people investing should be able to figure this out and price the asset / firm accordingly. The underlying notion of functioning markets is that investors are rational - implying that the value of the asset / firm is fully reflected in its price.
Back to the game: so far, so good. You are a perfect specimen of rationality, intellectually supreme, and a model student of your University. You are also not going to win the $20. Because the actual game is not picking the correct number, it is essentially assessing what the ratio of baboons to business intellectuals in your class is, and what those baboons are likely to pick as a number. You can also think about the baboon's developing intellectuality, so how many times they go through the problem. Just because he realizes that the average of the class is going to be 50 and puts 33, he may not realize that others will think the same way.
That game, unfortunately, I am less good at. Having played this game several times now, people tend to do 2-3 iterations of the problem, so somewhere between 15 and 20 is a good bet. The smaller the class, the more a potential baboon can wreck havoc and the more other factors will have an effect, such as whether you think the semi-hungover junior in the corner who buttoned his shirt asymmetrically this morning actually understood the rules.
I picked "17" in a small class (13 people), which would have been bang on if only somebody hadn't put 93 (!). Being overly competitive I unfortunately blurted out that that is not even a possible winning number, even if everyone picked 100 - apologies. But is does show that just because you are in a business school, doesn't mean you are not a baboon.
Relating back to the stock market idiom, the takeaway is pretty obvious. It doesn't matter what the true value is, it only matters what people think the true value is. Markets should be inherently efficient, but because people are not, neither will they. If you give a good model to a huge group of baboon investors, the real skill which will create value is understanding baboon psychology. I picked the wrong business major.
søndag den 2. december 2012
A cappella
One of the idiosyncratic pieces of American campus culture is a cappella. Bands are prestigious, professional, and present everywhere. In the intro weeks, bands would walk around campus, stand outside dorms, and give fantastic exhibitions of rhythm, creativity, and harmony. It is not uncommon to overhead a group of students singing together under their breath. Since a fellow GLOBEr is in a group, I went to his fall concert to be supportive and to see what the commotion was all about.
A cappella is music performed without instruments and originated in from religious chants. At UNC the style is always the same: A group of 12-15 stand in a semi-circle, often in two rows, with a soloist in the centre. Most groups perform popular music which is written with instruments, so there is almost always a beatboxer on one flank keeping a beat and emphasizing the musical climaxes.
The concert was presented by the Tar Heel Voices, UNC's oldest co-ed a cappella group. They sang popular songs from the likes of Taylor Swift and Disney, classics such as Van Morrison's "Brown Eyed Girl" and Earth, Wind and Fire's "September", but also had couple of unknown songs such as my favourite by miles: Delta Rae's "Morning Comes". There were also performances from the UNC Loreleis, the schools oldest all-female a cappella group, a hearty, collective performance of UNC's Alma Mater with the audience, and small theatrical sketches. It was a great way to spend 2 hours a Saturday evening.
What I didn't realize was the amount of dedication that being in such a group requires. The group performs semi-annually and have produced several CD's - indeed the proceeds from the concert goes toward a new album in the spring. The amount of band alumni and their interaction with the group during the concert showed just how strong a bond one gets with the group mates once they being part of the fellowship. On the program, new members of the group were proudly titled "NEWB".
It proved to me once again the American culture of assimilating into sub-groups and defining yourself within those groups. In a ethnically homogeneous society such as Denmark, the group encompasses the nation. In America, the huge influx of immigrants and its sheer size makes such a group impossible. Instead, sub-groups have learned to co-exist (impressive if you look at global history), basing its principles of liberty for the individual. College is a microcosm of this trend, with people coming from around the state and being flung into a new social structure. People then chose their groups and significantly commit. This is a general trend, and exceptions naturally exist, but it helps explain both the lack of extremes in Denmark and the huge expectations of the American groups. This also makes social mobility between groups much harder, both in college and in America in general.
A cappella is music performed without instruments and originated in from religious chants. At UNC the style is always the same: A group of 12-15 stand in a semi-circle, often in two rows, with a soloist in the centre. Most groups perform popular music which is written with instruments, so there is almost always a beatboxer on one flank keeping a beat and emphasizing the musical climaxes.
The concert was presented by the Tar Heel Voices, UNC's oldest co-ed a cappella group. They sang popular songs from the likes of Taylor Swift and Disney, classics such as Van Morrison's "Brown Eyed Girl" and Earth, Wind and Fire's "September", but also had couple of unknown songs such as my favourite by miles: Delta Rae's "Morning Comes". There were also performances from the UNC Loreleis, the schools oldest all-female a cappella group, a hearty, collective performance of UNC's Alma Mater with the audience, and small theatrical sketches. It was a great way to spend 2 hours a Saturday evening.
What I didn't realize was the amount of dedication that being in such a group requires. The group performs semi-annually and have produced several CD's - indeed the proceeds from the concert goes toward a new album in the spring. The amount of band alumni and their interaction with the group during the concert showed just how strong a bond one gets with the group mates once they being part of the fellowship. On the program, new members of the group were proudly titled "NEWB".
It proved to me once again the American culture of assimilating into sub-groups and defining yourself within those groups. In a ethnically homogeneous society such as Denmark, the group encompasses the nation. In America, the huge influx of immigrants and its sheer size makes such a group impossible. Instead, sub-groups have learned to co-exist (impressive if you look at global history), basing its principles of liberty for the individual. College is a microcosm of this trend, with people coming from around the state and being flung into a new social structure. People then chose their groups and significantly commit. This is a general trend, and exceptions naturally exist, but it helps explain both the lack of extremes in Denmark and the huge expectations of the American groups. This also makes social mobility between groups much harder, both in college and in America in general.
torsdag den 29. november 2012
Thanksgiving
2 weeks before exams, 5 weeks before Christmas, and only 4 weeks after the previous holiday, it was Thanksgiving. And boy was it welcome! An opportunity to recharge the batteries, I headed north to Greenwich, Connecticut to family friends, a change of pace, and my first experience of this American holiday.
Like most historical American traditions, Thanksgiving Day traces its roots back to Britain. Under the English Reformation under Henry VIII, the vast number of religious holidays were moulded together and significantly reduced. Some wanted to reduce these days even further, into a couple of significant Days of Thanksgiving. These English dissenters (sometimes referred to as Puritans) could not change the Anglican church from within, not least due to a strong Catholic opposition and an unstable transition to King James I in 1603, so many emigrated either to the Netherlands or later to America. They brought their ideas and values with them, setting up their own church and religious ceremonies, and the Pilgrims would undoubtedly be thankful for surviving and prospering in this new land.
Things have changed considerably since then. More food, more football, more family - less stressing, less religion, less risk of being attacked by natives. It is a holiday where most people return to their family, and thus a lot of events are based in the neighbourhood: cocktails, meet-and-greets, touch football + lunch, and a trip to the local bar. When I was not eating and drinking, I found myself with a book on the sofa, outside in the awesome sunshine weather on walks, or playing pool, trivial pursuit, or Blokus in front of a fire or a Patriots game. And four happy days passed by in an instant.
2 things were especially striking. My bus ride back and forth operated out of Chinatown. It was a cheap $60 each way (a third of the airfare), but apparently they had safety concerns, were notoriously unreliable, and had a reputation for being pretty sketchy. I didn't realize this until I actual got on the bus, which was 75 minutes late, but the 8 hour overnight ride was uneventful. The seats were (naturally) Asian sized (Hong Kong busses also had seats designed for people 5 foot 8"), so I didn't get much sleep as resting my head was equivalent to staring straight up in the air. Going back, however, was considerably more pleasurable, especially since I had been packed a hearty late-night snack of fruit, crisps, cookies and turkey sandwiches!
The second thing is Paddle tennis. Played outdoor on a enclosed miniature tennis court with paddles rather than rackets, the rules are pretty much the same as tennis, although the ball is rubbery, the paddles are solid fiber (rather than strings), and if it hits the back / side walls you may hit it, similar to squash. It is thus a game of tactics, vision, and positioning rather than a game of technique and power, since a hard shot simply bounces back onto the court. This also means it is a game for all age groups. We played doubles, 3 close sets, experiencing my first snow of the year, and headed back for a cup of tea as the winter sun was setting. First Thanksgiving, and I wouldn't wish it had been any different.
Like most historical American traditions, Thanksgiving Day traces its roots back to Britain. Under the English Reformation under Henry VIII, the vast number of religious holidays were moulded together and significantly reduced. Some wanted to reduce these days even further, into a couple of significant Days of Thanksgiving. These English dissenters (sometimes referred to as Puritans) could not change the Anglican church from within, not least due to a strong Catholic opposition and an unstable transition to King James I in 1603, so many emigrated either to the Netherlands or later to America. They brought their ideas and values with them, setting up their own church and religious ceremonies, and the Pilgrims would undoubtedly be thankful for surviving and prospering in this new land.
Things have changed considerably since then. More food, more football, more family - less stressing, less religion, less risk of being attacked by natives. It is a holiday where most people return to their family, and thus a lot of events are based in the neighbourhood: cocktails, meet-and-greets, touch football + lunch, and a trip to the local bar. When I was not eating and drinking, I found myself with a book on the sofa, outside in the awesome sunshine weather on walks, or playing pool, trivial pursuit, or Blokus in front of a fire or a Patriots game. And four happy days passed by in an instant.
2 things were especially striking. My bus ride back and forth operated out of Chinatown. It was a cheap $60 each way (a third of the airfare), but apparently they had safety concerns, were notoriously unreliable, and had a reputation for being pretty sketchy. I didn't realize this until I actual got on the bus, which was 75 minutes late, but the 8 hour overnight ride was uneventful. The seats were (naturally) Asian sized (Hong Kong busses also had seats designed for people 5 foot 8"), so I didn't get much sleep as resting my head was equivalent to staring straight up in the air. Going back, however, was considerably more pleasurable, especially since I had been packed a hearty late-night snack of fruit, crisps, cookies and turkey sandwiches!
The second thing is Paddle tennis. Played outdoor on a enclosed miniature tennis court with paddles rather than rackets, the rules are pretty much the same as tennis, although the ball is rubbery, the paddles are solid fiber (rather than strings), and if it hits the back / side walls you may hit it, similar to squash. It is thus a game of tactics, vision, and positioning rather than a game of technique and power, since a hard shot simply bounces back onto the court. This also means it is a game for all age groups. We played doubles, 3 close sets, experiencing my first snow of the year, and headed back for a cup of tea as the winter sun was setting. First Thanksgiving, and I wouldn't wish it had been any different.
mandag den 19. november 2012
Unexpected fortune
After some 15 months on GLOBE, I have been overly susceptible to cultural influences. I personally believe that I have grown and become less surprised by differences of actions and opinions. But 2 experiences this week has reminded me that there is still much to learn.
First, a volleyball tournament. A couple of CUHK'ers are particularly interested in the sport, so on their initiative we made a GLOBE team to compete in a recreational tournament on campus. After crashing out in the quarter finals, two of them asked me if I wanted to join in a 3-a-side tournament on Monday evening. Entrance fee was 2 dollars, but their were prizes to be won. Having had a midterm moved and wanting to spend more time on the the court with them, I happily accepted. Come 8 PM, I burst through the door to the hall, panting after having sprinted not to be late. Expecting to see semi-pro volleyball teams warming up, I instead find myself face to face with 12 or so blonde sorority girls. To the unaware reader, UNC sorority girls can be spotted a mile away by their pony-tailed hair, large sweatshirt, short Nike shorts, and running shoes with ankle-length socks. None of them are warming up and none are more than 5'8", although the 3 volleyballs and nets assure me I am in the correct place. Looking at the door once more, a poster informs me that this is a charity event for the pre-law fraternity Phi Alpha Delta, with the proceeds going to a scholarship. It is open for all, but that a sorority hosted it obviously scared away most male participants.
I spot my two Asian compadres (who stand out considerably by being the only male, non-white people in the gym), grab a ball, and trudge over to them. They obviously still have no clue that this is a sorority event, grinningly remarking that the lower nets will be a severe advantage for us. I look back at the girls and after hearing that some of them have never hit a ball before, I feel like I might as well leave now than waste an hour in an unfair fight. But it was charity, I had come this far, and my friends needed me. So I might as well make the best of it. Fortunate choice. It turned out the only other real "team" were 3 sisters who had been volleyball players their whole life. What they lacked in size they made up for in technique, jumping ability, placement, vision, and, surprisingly, powerful serves. We played 2 close games, but we prevailed in 2 sets both times. First prize in the tournament and 25 dollars worth of craft beer and a gift card for 5 to dinner. As my finance-savvy friend remarked: "Pretty good return on our 2 dollar investment"
The second experience was this weekend. A friend was turning 22 and his parents were in town and had invited us over for Cuban food, beer, and football. Afterwards we decide to head to a bar for a drink or two, but in my hurry to catch the bus there I had left my drivers license at home. In a student town like Chapel Hill they are super strict on under-age drinking, so no license = no entrance. It was midnight, bars close at 2, and I lived 30 minutes walk away. Most unfortunate.
The exact moment I realize this, 2 black dudes sporting baggy, colourful outfits (green and purple, respectively) with matching snapbacks (a cap) ask where we are going. After giving them the venue, the first guy replies he can get us in - no problem. I have had very little contact with black people outside the basketball court, so I am unfamiliar with their directness, the seemingly aggressive statements, and the fact that they speak with so much slang which, when being drunk, bears almost no resemblance to English. Memories of Shanghai flashed into my mind. Their un-shaved look, dreadlocks, and 200 pounds of pure muscle don't reassure me. So I politely try to decline while trying to keep everyone contained on the street until I could figure out what to do with my situation. But with the guy pushing and having no idea what to do with my ID situation, I thought "what the hell" and marched towards the bar.
We walk past a 50 person line, straight up to the bouncer, and after my new friend and him exchange words, we are ushered round the back of the building. Being some 12 people, the guy said we would have to go in teams. But after grabbing his mate and a female friend they had with them, he pointed at me at said: "You wit me dog!" He slung his arm around my neck, matched me round the corner, past the bouncer, and straight into the bar.
First night I forget my ID, a random black guy gets me into a bar. I was mindblown. I thanked him and bought him a beer, getting an opportunity to get to know him. My prejudices had got the better of me, and I was sure to make up for it. He apparently held a degree in electrical engineering (!), but was back because his younger brother went to UNC. He went by "JJ" and he kept calling me "dog", "homie", and "bro". I couldn't quite figure out why he spoke like a gangster or why he had helped me, but before I had the opportunity to ask he had finished his pint and gave me a series of intricate handshakes which I mimicked as well as could. He seemed to take a liking to me, because as he headed into the crowd he told me to meet him at 2 when the place closed to go smoke weed. I declined, not trying to push my luck any further, but he was gone before he heard the answer. I sat back down at the bar, completely perplexed, until my other friends showed up 10 minutes later, with a smile that couldn't be wiped from my face.
First, a volleyball tournament. A couple of CUHK'ers are particularly interested in the sport, so on their initiative we made a GLOBE team to compete in a recreational tournament on campus. After crashing out in the quarter finals, two of them asked me if I wanted to join in a 3-a-side tournament on Monday evening. Entrance fee was 2 dollars, but their were prizes to be won. Having had a midterm moved and wanting to spend more time on the the court with them, I happily accepted. Come 8 PM, I burst through the door to the hall, panting after having sprinted not to be late. Expecting to see semi-pro volleyball teams warming up, I instead find myself face to face with 12 or so blonde sorority girls. To the unaware reader, UNC sorority girls can be spotted a mile away by their pony-tailed hair, large sweatshirt, short Nike shorts, and running shoes with ankle-length socks. None of them are warming up and none are more than 5'8", although the 3 volleyballs and nets assure me I am in the correct place. Looking at the door once more, a poster informs me that this is a charity event for the pre-law fraternity Phi Alpha Delta, with the proceeds going to a scholarship. It is open for all, but that a sorority hosted it obviously scared away most male participants.
I spot my two Asian compadres (who stand out considerably by being the only male, non-white people in the gym), grab a ball, and trudge over to them. They obviously still have no clue that this is a sorority event, grinningly remarking that the lower nets will be a severe advantage for us. I look back at the girls and after hearing that some of them have never hit a ball before, I feel like I might as well leave now than waste an hour in an unfair fight. But it was charity, I had come this far, and my friends needed me. So I might as well make the best of it. Fortunate choice. It turned out the only other real "team" were 3 sisters who had been volleyball players their whole life. What they lacked in size they made up for in technique, jumping ability, placement, vision, and, surprisingly, powerful serves. We played 2 close games, but we prevailed in 2 sets both times. First prize in the tournament and 25 dollars worth of craft beer and a gift card for 5 to dinner. As my finance-savvy friend remarked: "Pretty good return on our 2 dollar investment"
The second experience was this weekend. A friend was turning 22 and his parents were in town and had invited us over for Cuban food, beer, and football. Afterwards we decide to head to a bar for a drink or two, but in my hurry to catch the bus there I had left my drivers license at home. In a student town like Chapel Hill they are super strict on under-age drinking, so no license = no entrance. It was midnight, bars close at 2, and I lived 30 minutes walk away. Most unfortunate.
The exact moment I realize this, 2 black dudes sporting baggy, colourful outfits (green and purple, respectively) with matching snapbacks (a cap) ask where we are going. After giving them the venue, the first guy replies he can get us in - no problem. I have had very little contact with black people outside the basketball court, so I am unfamiliar with their directness, the seemingly aggressive statements, and the fact that they speak with so much slang which, when being drunk, bears almost no resemblance to English. Memories of Shanghai flashed into my mind. Their un-shaved look, dreadlocks, and 200 pounds of pure muscle don't reassure me. So I politely try to decline while trying to keep everyone contained on the street until I could figure out what to do with my situation. But with the guy pushing and having no idea what to do with my ID situation, I thought "what the hell" and marched towards the bar.
We walk past a 50 person line, straight up to the bouncer, and after my new friend and him exchange words, we are ushered round the back of the building. Being some 12 people, the guy said we would have to go in teams. But after grabbing his mate and a female friend they had with them, he pointed at me at said: "You wit me dog!" He slung his arm around my neck, matched me round the corner, past the bouncer, and straight into the bar.
First night I forget my ID, a random black guy gets me into a bar. I was mindblown. I thanked him and bought him a beer, getting an opportunity to get to know him. My prejudices had got the better of me, and I was sure to make up for it. He apparently held a degree in electrical engineering (!), but was back because his younger brother went to UNC. He went by "JJ" and he kept calling me "dog", "homie", and "bro". I couldn't quite figure out why he spoke like a gangster or why he had helped me, but before I had the opportunity to ask he had finished his pint and gave me a series of intricate handshakes which I mimicked as well as could. He seemed to take a liking to me, because as he headed into the crowd he told me to meet him at 2 when the place closed to go smoke weed. I declined, not trying to push my luck any further, but he was gone before he heard the answer. I sat back down at the bar, completely perplexed, until my other friends showed up 10 minutes later, with a smile that couldn't be wiped from my face.
tirsdag den 13. november 2012
Good Housekeeping
My room mate had been poorly for a week or so, but overnight his tonsils swelled to the size of a walnut. A trip to the campus health service immediately led to the diagnosis: Mononucleosis. So I have since turned into a Corpsman for my friend.
Mononucleosis, known as "mono", glandular fever, or colloquially as "the kissing disease", is a virus infection affecting the lymphocytes (a part of the immune system). Its symptoms are severe fatigue, swollen lymph nodes around the body, joint pain, muscle soreness, sore throat and potentially flu-like symptoms. Furthermore, the infection of the immune system makes the patient more likely to contract further diseases, such as a bacterial throat infection. Although it is non-fatal, there is no treatment other than symptom-relief, and it can take up to 2-3 months to fully recover. The virus spreads through saliva, so by sharing cups, cutlery, toothbrushes or by kissing, but it is not airborne - hence I have not been panicking about finding a new room mate.
The main impediment to the patient is fatigue, which makes it harder to maintain a normal, fast-paced lifestyle. The virus also affects the spleen, liver and the abdomen, meaning no alcohol and limited fatty foods. Furthermore, the patient should refrain from any contact sport, as a blow to one of the affected organs could cause internal bleeding and potentially be life threatening. So for an athletic footballing college senior in America on exchange with two months left, it is a utterly miserable situation.
Hence my desire to try to help as much as I can. He has been bedridden for the last 3 days, sleeping sporadically with fatigue, headaches, joint pain and a sore, swollen throat. Medication was limited to painkillers, and he was in no condition to go outdoors, let alone do any kind of work. So I have tried to maintain a steady stream of soup, milky tea with honey, and yoghurt every 6 hours to ensure he is somewhat nourished, making sure he drinks other fluids than just water to keep up his electrolyte balance, and trying to alleviate the worst element of lying ill: boredom.
Today was a change of events. He felt considerably worse, his throat swelling up even more, so he went for another check-up at the clinic. Here he got pumped full of saline, painkillers, steroids to reduce the swelling in his throat, and antibiotics for a recently contracted strep throat - he thus looked considerably better this evening, although severely drugged up. However, the steroids lower his already weak immune system, so when my late class got cancelled, I took it as a sign to turn our dusty bachelors den into a somewhat sterile infirmary.
After a quick shopping spree for cleaning utensils, my time in the military was put to good use: The place was vacuum-cleaned spotless, all dust wiped of surfaces with anti-viral wipes, all our laundry was done, including all bed sheets and pillow cases. The duvets were hung outside to get aired, and all items he had been in contact with were thoroughly washed or completely disposed of. Hopefully this will mean he is less susceptible to contract anything else, and he should be back to class on Monday (hopefully) and in some decent shape for Thanksgiving. Till then, I'll keep the orange juice and take-away meals coming!
Mononucleosis, known as "mono", glandular fever, or colloquially as "the kissing disease", is a virus infection affecting the lymphocytes (a part of the immune system). Its symptoms are severe fatigue, swollen lymph nodes around the body, joint pain, muscle soreness, sore throat and potentially flu-like symptoms. Furthermore, the infection of the immune system makes the patient more likely to contract further diseases, such as a bacterial throat infection. Although it is non-fatal, there is no treatment other than symptom-relief, and it can take up to 2-3 months to fully recover. The virus spreads through saliva, so by sharing cups, cutlery, toothbrushes or by kissing, but it is not airborne - hence I have not been panicking about finding a new room mate.
The main impediment to the patient is fatigue, which makes it harder to maintain a normal, fast-paced lifestyle. The virus also affects the spleen, liver and the abdomen, meaning no alcohol and limited fatty foods. Furthermore, the patient should refrain from any contact sport, as a blow to one of the affected organs could cause internal bleeding and potentially be life threatening. So for an athletic footballing college senior in America on exchange with two months left, it is a utterly miserable situation.
Hence my desire to try to help as much as I can. He has been bedridden for the last 3 days, sleeping sporadically with fatigue, headaches, joint pain and a sore, swollen throat. Medication was limited to painkillers, and he was in no condition to go outdoors, let alone do any kind of work. So I have tried to maintain a steady stream of soup, milky tea with honey, and yoghurt every 6 hours to ensure he is somewhat nourished, making sure he drinks other fluids than just water to keep up his electrolyte balance, and trying to alleviate the worst element of lying ill: boredom.
Today was a change of events. He felt considerably worse, his throat swelling up even more, so he went for another check-up at the clinic. Here he got pumped full of saline, painkillers, steroids to reduce the swelling in his throat, and antibiotics for a recently contracted strep throat - he thus looked considerably better this evening, although severely drugged up. However, the steroids lower his already weak immune system, so when my late class got cancelled, I took it as a sign to turn our dusty bachelors den into a somewhat sterile infirmary.
After a quick shopping spree for cleaning utensils, my time in the military was put to good use: The place was vacuum-cleaned spotless, all dust wiped of surfaces with anti-viral wipes, all our laundry was done, including all bed sheets and pillow cases. The duvets were hung outside to get aired, and all items he had been in contact with were thoroughly washed or completely disposed of. Hopefully this will mean he is less susceptible to contract anything else, and he should be back to class on Monday (hopefully) and in some decent shape for Thanksgiving. Till then, I'll keep the orange juice and take-away meals coming!lørdag den 10. november 2012
Election night
Last Tuesday was election night (in case you hadn't realized) and I was psyched and ready to go. Called one of the most influential elections in the past 20 years, the candidates were disagreeing on almost everything and the America that would emerge after the 4 years with either president would be starkly different.
I feel I had spent a decent amount of time covering the run-up to the election. I watched the debates, read articles and analyses, and discussed topics with my peers. Being a Dane, the odds that I was rooting for Romney was 1-100, not least due to social and foreign-policy issues, but I tried to put myself in the shoes of an American and I do believe he would be the better candidate for the economy. In a corporate setting, Romney would be the CFO, and Obama the CEO - simply a better man for America when looking at all their traits and ideas.
GLOBErs spend an awful lot of time together, so we had clashed swords concerning the candidates many times before. I therefore opted to stay on campus and watch the election in the common room of my dorm, hoping to discuss politics with Americans who had less exposure to a globalized world and who might offer up new viewpoints. Plus there was free food and drink.
I learnt a couple of things. First, Chapel Hill and the younger generation are overwhelmingly pro-Obama. Second, the active voter in America is surprisingly well-informed. Having two candidates might make for partisan chambers and little collaboration across the aisle, but it does propose a relatively simple choice, as compared to Denmark with its seven major parties. Third, there are a significant number of inactive voters. These people cast their vote, but have little clue about what is happening and why. They are also reluctant to discuss politics, and they didn't show up to election night. A girl I talked to a couple of days before voted Romney because her parents did, even though most of her beliefs were way over in the Obama camp.
So election night was somewhat anti-climactic. Only 25 students or so showed up, most with their homework to kill time (thus not in discussion mode). Food was cheese pizza (go figure), which made the room smell like fondue and made me slightly nauseous. On a practical note, America's 5 time zones (6 including Alaska + Hawaii) means that focus is only on a couple of states at a time. Furthermore, America's size, electoral system and inter-state diversity means that the individual vote seems to play a lesser role. A Democratic voter in Texas has absolutely 0% influence. North Carolina went Republican, but everyone who was pro-Romney seemed awfully quite on a blue campus.
The highlight of the evening was a discussion with my Danish room mate. CNN announced that Pennsylvania went Democratic after 40% of the votes had been counted. This was based on exit polls, the current vote count relative to past years' results on a county level, and the statistical confidence interval at that point in time when Obama was up 58% to 41%. This (as my room mate aptly pointed out) is never 100% accurate, and kept referring to the Bush - Gore election and the Florida recount. This could potentially happen again, and therefore CNN should not refer to Obama as the winner until those key states had been tallied. True, but the pressure to be the first to announce the winner was more important. Most surprising was that most of the Americans had no clue what we were talking about, taking Obamas victory as certain. So while we exchanged a few more arguments, the student body of UNC grabbed their phones and jackets, chanting Obama's victory into cyberspace and into the crisp Carolinian night sky.
I feel I had spent a decent amount of time covering the run-up to the election. I watched the debates, read articles and analyses, and discussed topics with my peers. Being a Dane, the odds that I was rooting for Romney was 1-100, not least due to social and foreign-policy issues, but I tried to put myself in the shoes of an American and I do believe he would be the better candidate for the economy. In a corporate setting, Romney would be the CFO, and Obama the CEO - simply a better man for America when looking at all their traits and ideas.
GLOBErs spend an awful lot of time together, so we had clashed swords concerning the candidates many times before. I therefore opted to stay on campus and watch the election in the common room of my dorm, hoping to discuss politics with Americans who had less exposure to a globalized world and who might offer up new viewpoints. Plus there was free food and drink.
I learnt a couple of things. First, Chapel Hill and the younger generation are overwhelmingly pro-Obama. Second, the active voter in America is surprisingly well-informed. Having two candidates might make for partisan chambers and little collaboration across the aisle, but it does propose a relatively simple choice, as compared to Denmark with its seven major parties. Third, there are a significant number of inactive voters. These people cast their vote, but have little clue about what is happening and why. They are also reluctant to discuss politics, and they didn't show up to election night. A girl I talked to a couple of days before voted Romney because her parents did, even though most of her beliefs were way over in the Obama camp.
So election night was somewhat anti-climactic. Only 25 students or so showed up, most with their homework to kill time (thus not in discussion mode). Food was cheese pizza (go figure), which made the room smell like fondue and made me slightly nauseous. On a practical note, America's 5 time zones (6 including Alaska + Hawaii) means that focus is only on a couple of states at a time. Furthermore, America's size, electoral system and inter-state diversity means that the individual vote seems to play a lesser role. A Democratic voter in Texas has absolutely 0% influence. North Carolina went Republican, but everyone who was pro-Romney seemed awfully quite on a blue campus.
The highlight of the evening was a discussion with my Danish room mate. CNN announced that Pennsylvania went Democratic after 40% of the votes had been counted. This was based on exit polls, the current vote count relative to past years' results on a county level, and the statistical confidence interval at that point in time when Obama was up 58% to 41%. This (as my room mate aptly pointed out) is never 100% accurate, and kept referring to the Bush - Gore election and the Florida recount. This could potentially happen again, and therefore CNN should not refer to Obama as the winner until those key states had been tallied. True, but the pressure to be the first to announce the winner was more important. Most surprising was that most of the Americans had no clue what we were talking about, taking Obamas victory as certain. So while we exchanged a few more arguments, the student body of UNC grabbed their phones and jackets, chanting Obama's victory into cyberspace and into the crisp Carolinian night sky.
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