The life and times of a fallen hacker
Archive for March 2005
Visited Copley Place mall. Still no sight of a Levi’s store, despite promises of one in the phone book. Seems that I’ve got to do without a pair of new 501s this trip.
Decent sushi. Great bookstore. Pathway to Glory available at a very reasonable price.
Yah, after a quiet hour or two at the hotel, it was time to venture out and see what the famed St. Patrick’s Day really holds.
The T is surprisingly quiet - quite unlike Mayday back home, though a lot of the people are wearing green.
Upon reaching downtown the party has certainly started. The homeboys near the station are wearing ethnically appropriate, but still green clothing: Celtics jerseys or shirts by fubu and the like. However, moving towards the Quincy Market, the true partiers become visible. Pretty much everybody has decked on more and more green. Shirts, hats, jackets, whatever. Some adventurous individuals are wearing kilts, which is probably not a good idea when the temperature has decreased from the no-so-balmy heights of the noon. And especially since the lines in front of any quasi-irish bar are huge. Roisin Dubh, McNally’s sport lines that curve around corners and seem not to be moving at all.
Cruising around the area, I settle down in front of Ned Devine’s. Where the line is a little bit shorter. But slow. Very slow. During the twenty-odd minutes of waiting something like ten people get in, and the line moves less than twenty feet. No good. I retreat to Cheers, already visited during the day, where a semblance of an irish celebration is ongoing.
But not a very good semblance. They run out of Guinness immediately. Everything is sold in plastic cups. And music is loud, very loud. And very non-irish. Unless Peppers and Snoop Dogg have lately been granted citizenship without me noticing. Clearly I’m not the only one with culture shock, in a neighboring table a midwestern couple wipes barbecue sauce off chicken fingers with napkins before devouring them. NCAA basketball, ubiquitous during the whole week keeps playing on all screens in the bar. Looks and feels chaotic, but really isn’t, the lines work and people remain reasonably polite well into the night. Me? Cut my losses before midnight and hopped on a red train back towards Harvard Square.
Quick clue: What not to wear on St. Patrick’s Day:
Nope. Wore neither, and only a very few brave individuals wore the latter, none the former. Had a green t-shirt (with spindly yellow Dali-elephants on it).
Another well-slept night. Looks like I’m adjusting. Bought Globe, in hopes that it’d state where the St. Patrick’s day parade is. Nope. No information. Probably it’s common knowledge for everybody else. Well, I’ll bump into it or then I won’t.
Back to Long Wharf, to see Cameron’s new movie and to visit the aquarium.
The latter first, though I buy a combo ticket that includes the movie as well, since the shows have been steadily sold out lately. The New England Aquarium is a largish cubical building, that houses a huge seawater tank at its center, flanked by four penguin enclosures at the bottom, and the sides lined with smaller tanks.
In addition to the regular inhabitants, there’s a temporary exhibit that concentrates on jellyfish, ie. medusas. A dozen or so big tanks filled with nothing but water and the creatures themselves, as the fragile animals don’t really co-exist that well with static decorations such as corals and rocks. The display is nothing short of magnificent, the subdued light of the aquaria brings out the colors of the creatures, and their undulating movements tend to be on the hypnotic side. This is the first time I’ve seen so many species in one exhibit, and the view is indeed captivating. Too bad the place is invaded by schoolkids, whose noise pretty much shatters the tranquillity of the place immediately. But apart from the noise, they’re pretty well-behaving bunch, and refrain from the usual tricks of tapping the glass and suchlike. Anyway, based upon the released images of the Aliens of the Deep, there’s plenty more jellyfish yet to come…
The building is indeed dominated by a huge sea tank, whose 200000 gallon capacity and contents can be viewed from three levels, as well as from directly above. It contains around 120 species, from sharks, rays and turtles to way smaller creatures.
The penguin pool is divided into three separate enclosures, each housing a different species. The birds were being fed, one herring at a time. The male (I assume) rockhopper penguins were making quite a
noise, hooting and hollering and filling the big hall with sound. Before witnessing the source I was pretty sure it was a loud seal instead. According to descriptions on the pools, all penguins can make loud noises, a fact that has escaped my notice utterly thus far.
The rest of the building is filled with smaller tanks. Their contents range from traditional (a bored electric eel, couple of reefs, Amazon recreations [piranhas, a sleeping anaconda]) to the expected (several local biotopes from the New England coast and rivers) and a couple of more novel displays (bioluminescent animals). Missed sea otters, since signage in the building was not really of the optimal kind.
The “biggest creatures of the Aquarium” are not available for viewing before april. Too bad, would have been a very interesting afternoon. Took a smaller scale whale safari in Victoria, British Columbia (like, Canada’s west coast), and that was a great experience. Saw a few Orcas, two Humpback Whales (a mother and her calf) and a couple of dolphins during the three hour zodiac-cruise in the Juan de Fuca strait. Especially the humpbacks up close were an awesome display of animal power. And the sea is just so much closer when you’re sitting in a rubber boat as opposed to a ship or an airplane.
On to the IMAX-theatre next door. Where there are even more kids. A lot more kids. Noise dies down when the Aliens of the Deep movie starts. And what a movie it is. Even the conditions are unorthodox. The screen is IMAX-sized and the movie is shot and shown in 3D, with blue/red-accessory glasses handed out to every viewer. And it is indeed nothing less than breathtaking, after it overcomes the surprisingly slow start. But once the stars of the show, the critters of the deep (fish, invertebrates, and all kinds of weird animals), enter the picture the mood changes. The movie just celebrates the ability to view the animals - in scenes that seem to be a glorious mix of Jacques Cousteau with Timothy Leary. Towards the end the movie strays from deep sea exploration to pure science fiction, and is capped by a very over the top scene. But all in all, the 45 minutes or so contain so much distilled sense of wonder that such shortcomings (odd ending, too many mugshots of the director himself) are overcome. Yeah, this is a four star movie, but I expect the inevitable dvd to be both longer and deeper in content.
Had lunch at Cheers, though not the original, but replica conviently located in Faneuil Hall. Decent burger, good clam chowder for appetizer, but worrisomely the Sam Adams from tap is served in a plastic Bud Light mug.
During the aquatic exploration the city has slowly been filling out with people celebrating St. Patrick’s Day. Most are wearing green, in either subdued fashion (t-shirts) or leaning towards the extreme (fake bright green afros). Even the ever-present japanese tourists milling around have been clued in to the day, and display token shamrocks on their clothes. The crowd seems to be pleasantly sober, but according to all reports, this will be changing as the day progresses.
One more new record store on the way back to the hotel: Strawberries. Five floors, which are small. Seems to be like Rasputin Music in San Francisco, albeit this is better organized. Pick up a couple of cds: Death Angel’s Act III is a steal at ten bucks, and Dropkick Murphys seems to be the locally worshipped irish band - a live album is probably a good way to get to know them. Manage to instantly nullify my meager street cred by asking the clerk what’s the music they’re playing in the store (nicely aggressive poguesish melody mixed with rough vocals), and he wordlessly points towards the Murphys cd I’m holding… Well, live and learn. And there was no-one else at the same counter anyhow.
The phone book indicates that there’s an HMV-store on campus. However, on closer inspection they’ve moved out and been replaced by an outdoorsy-type clothing store. Too bad, would’ve probably had something interesting on sale.
Nearby mini-mall proves very interesting shops-wise: a good comics store, a game/book store and yet another record store are almost next to each other. The first has an ample supply of new comics: the first four Sin City albums have been reprinted, the new Fables collection is out, and there’s at least half a dozen more Hellblazer albums than I thought. The game store has a surprise on its bookshelf - a new book by Norman Spinrad. The title is even more surprising: Druid King - the king of new wave is embracing historical fantasy…
The restaurants of the area, especially the interestingly vietnamese Pho Pasteur, are packed to the gills.
First day of my three day holiday in Boston, and to celebrate that I’m actually able to sleep until six a.m.
Leisurely breakfast, accompanied by the complimentary USA Today. It’s not the best newspaper in the world, but it’s good enough.
Set up a meeting with Matti at MIT for early afternoon.
Walk the intervening four kilometers or so along Massachusetts Avenue. Drop by the MIT Museum, initially to kill some time, but end up staying for the better part of two hours, enthralled by the collection. Which is not that vast, but quality massively outstrips quantity here.
First up, the Flashes of
Inspiration gallery, a collection of split-second artwork from Harold Edgerton. The shredding of the apple is probably his most famous image, and badly reproduced in a photograph of a photograph to the left.
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The fruits of MIT’s long-enduring robotics program at the famed Computer Science and Artifical Intelligence Lab are fascinating as well. Some of the droids are familiar from media, but the stories behind them usually are not. Some of the robots are interactive, but the most historical Kismet, pictured to the right, is the most visual of the robots on the show. Able to mimic facial expressions upon
deducing the mood of the person it is communicating with. Haptic sensors (used eg. in surgical training) complete the collection. The collection housing autonomous underwater exploration equipment is available at another location, so the full range of the robots is not shown here. But the selection seems to enthuse visitors of all ages, from babies sitting in laps to oldtimers.
height="225" width="300" alt="A kinetic sculpture by Arthur Ganson" />
The next gallery contains kinetic sculptures by Arthur Ganson. Spindly Rube Goldberg-style chainreaction-machines that twist and churn around
multiple axes. Constructed mainly of wire, and often viewer-driven (some do have electric motors instead). Neither words, nor still images can do justice to Ganson’s work, hence his homepage has movies of some sculptures.
A couple of more ordinary showcases fill out the museum: history of holograms, visualization of physics, young engineers and finally, the history of the university itself.
Two hours well-spent.
Run into Matti well ahead of schedule and grab lunch from one of the stalls outside the main building. I join him, and a bunch of his classmates in a lecture on Apollo space program, an elective course (class code ESD.30J, if you insist on knowing). Given by two members of the program, the two hours are filled with both first-hand knowledge and interesting anecdotes. Clearly, these two old guys can
captivate the audience. The two hours go by very fast, and the session ends in deserved applause. One of the best lectures I’ve had the pleasure of witnessing, given by true heroes of the engineering domain. I don’t think the engineers responsible for the space shuttle will receive as much enthusiasm, when they eventually replace the Apollo crew.
Matti needs to get back to studying for last few papers before spring break (starts in two days), so after a quick roundabout he drops me off at the metro stop. I drop in to the MIT Press bookstore, and (again) come out a few books richer and with a slightly thinner credit card. Twisty
Little Passages, the definitive history of interactive fiction is out in paperback as well, but bought that as soon as it came out, last year.
New England Aquarium. Closed ten minutes before we arrive.
James Cameron’s Aliens of
the Deep in 3D-IMAX. Show begun five minutes before we arrive.
Met surprisingly helpful locals when we’re unable to locate the Boston Tea Party ship in the Fort Point Channel, and the ship later turns out to be closed for renovation until 2006.
Didn’t get lost, got a couple of cool pictures of the Boston skyline, and had a maximally carnivorous meal at a Brazilian barbecue place, so the evening was not a total disaster.
I’m in town for the rest of the week, so there’s ample time to return to the aquatic pursuits in the Long Wharf, but colleagues are leaving today, so they’ll miss them.
Still up too early. Did not bode well for the day. Was accommodated in the top floor of the hotel, which was a “club floor”, allowing access to a “club lounge” for breakfast. Turned out to be a smallish room, with decent enough offering. Very little of the traditional american breakfast-fare (no sausages, no scrambled eggs - which was good), opted for a bagel and a bowl of melon chunks.
Lots of WLans available at the hotel, the first few I tried provided a very slow connection and no DHCP service whatsoever, so it seems to be better to rely on the hotel-provided (but not free) wired connection.
Finally discovered the Nirvana box set at an affordable price. It cost $50, whereas back home it sets you back more than 70 euros.
Had the requisite whopper (still pissed off that BK retreated from Finland so early), and bought a frighteningly official album for State Quarters. I’ve gathered a few during the last few years, and now it’s time to see how many different ones I actually have. Turns out that there’s two variants of each coin - one for each mint, Denver or Philadelphia.
Fought sleep bravely for several hours after getting back to the hotel. Sam Adams’ White Ale is not bad at all, but neither a good glass of that nor NCAA basketball on tv are enough to keep from beginning to nod off at an unreasonably early hour.
The hotel does not have the world’s fastest breakfast service, and forgetting to buy the local newspaper before entering the restaurant is not a very bright idea. But you ought not expect very many of those after a toubled and short night’s sleep. Yes, sports fans, Mr. Jetlag is back in business, and aside from very few very short catnaps I was wide awake at 3:30 am. The newspaper, by the way, is huge, in the NYT-weight class, and provides substantial reading. And a pound of adverts. If not even more.
The neverlost-equipped rental car took us to Salem, the town famous for its 1692 witch hysteria. Visited the Witch Museum, which had a shortish (but basically interesting) presentation about the trials, and fell for yet another t-shirt in the museum store. Missed the other two major attractions: House of Seven Gables and Witches Dungeon, but had probably got enough of the misguided puritanism already.
It was still wintry, and taking a long walk back to the car seemed like a good idea. Snapped a few pictures along the way, two of which enclosed in the entry. First one is of one scary Solomon Kane-clone, the other of a well-icicled flowerpot.
Had the world’s hottest tea in one of the many cafeterias downtown. Salem seemed to be a nice little New England town, but it was probably far sleepier on an early sunday morning than usually.
Woke up at an unfashionable 4:40 o’clock, took a cab to the airport and boarded a plane to Frankfurt. Extremely tired, of course, but the curse of not being able to sleep in planes held. Thankfully, Lufthansa had today’s Helsingin Sanomat to provide some amusement for the ride.
Frankfurt airport hadn’t really changed. But for the first time in ages, the moving walkways between terminals A and B actually worked. In both directions. Which is unheard of, lately.
Security measures had been tightened once again, had no issues there, but spent a lot of time in queue. Bags were scanned as usual, but the spinaltapian cucumber-detection device was applied prodigiously to every traveller. All this meant that the generous 90 minute layover was barely sufficient.
Plane was an old 747-400, without personal screens. Which meant that everybody shared the same movie. Well, took a brief look at the Bridget Jones sequel, and resumed reading the newest Dortmunder caper by the ever-trusted Donald E. Westlake (trust me, the E. is significant - it’s the difference between sparkly comic crime and bog-standard hard-boiled novel).
Food was decent, even good. Savory chicken in tomato sauce. I’m sure the karma balance of the universe will be restored with something utterly unpalatable on the return leg. Had an aisle seat (traveler profile works wonders with most airlines), with a very silent neighbor, very much retreated into his own earphones. Noted too late that ipod was buried somewhere in the overhead compartment, and made do with the unusually good muzak provided by the airline.
Arrival was painless. This was the first time in states for a goog long while, and thus the first time through the new immigration formalities. Yes, had my picture taken, and my fingerprints are now available for the Secret Services of the western world.
Formidable rain, which started turning into sleet during the ride to the hotel located in Cambridge. Settled in, took a quick shower and went to meet colleagues who took a different flight in.
Before going for dinner took a look at neighboring shops. Tower Records is always a good neighbor (it’s becoming a habit - but refrained from spending as much as in San Francisco last fall), and the Harvard Bookstore still ranks among the mandatory sights in the city. Discovered that sometimes hardbacks are cheaper than newly minted paperbacks. Decided that a second visit into both is in order, after having scoped what the average prices in other shops are.
Had an excellent dinner with Serpe and Matti at the McCormick & Schmick’s Seafood Restaurant at the Faneuil Hall. Had to cab in, since Seppo’s shoes were no match for the four+ inches of slush on the sidewalks. Food was nothing less than divine - seafood of the very best kind. Had halibut for the main course, and opted for apple tart instead of the classic key lime pie for dessert. Capped the night with a brief visit to Boston Beer Works on Canal Street. Excellent microbrewery, with too much variety after a very long day, and funky T-shirts with label designs to boot. Retired after a metro ride to the hotel. This is definitely one of the american cities that have really functional municipal traffic system.
So, the long-awaited Gran Turismo 4 is out. After multiple delays, and after total elimination of network play. Looks extremely good. But is that really enough? Or is this just a bad case of moreofthesame remains yet to be seen.
No finnish channel seems to show the second leg of Chelsea-Barcelona Champions League game. Wouldn’t the digital side of channel four get more respect for football than reruns of King of Queens. That, of course, is a rhetorical question. Oh well, ESPN’s soccernet-affiliate provides pretty good webcasts. Will be running one in a background window.
Upon reading Raph Koster’s keynote from Serious Games Summit, I think I need to buy his book. Been a while since got exposed to such lucid thoughts about games and gaming.
On the other hand, took a borrowed copy of Lucasarts’ Mercenaries. GTA: Pyongyang, with humongous explosions. And the first few missions probably concentrate on teaching gameplay, not pyrotechnical pornography.
Nothing meaningful occurred today, so here goes with random linkage.
EDIT 19.8.2008: The LoTR-link seems dead.
Was good. Short ceremony. Long reception. Plentiful supplies. The way things ought to be.
Spent more money in cabs than during the first two months of 2005 altogether. Was worth it.
Missed hotel breakfast. Had an excellent brunch in Plevna instead. With sprite instead of their righteously popular stout.
Time for non-interactive activities now. Don’t Say a Word on tv in a minute. Pretty much what the doctor ordered. And Brittany Murphy usually doesn’t spoil movies with her presence.
Off to Tampere (or somewhere in close enough vicinity) to celebrate Riikka and Kari formally tying the proverbial knot. Ought to be a good party.
Missed the finnish translation of Thomas Pynchon’s Cry from Lot 49 in the academic bookstore sale (sold out at less than 3 euros). But noticed a big pile in Kirjatori yesterday. Thus got belatedly added to the library.
The first packet loss from eBay seems to be reality now. And the seller’s not communicating either. Too bad. But I ain’t going to break into a hissy fit about a five quid loss. On the other hand, the extension of Garbage singles-collection moved a few notches forward again, this week. The principal seller (bought several items) forgot to include one disc in his package. Appropriately apologetic upon notice, with a firm announcement of sending it. This is good citizenship, indeed.
Situation’s even worse than I thought. The w2k-laptop seems to behave well only after a complete restart. Otherwise it refuses DHCP-offers completely. Must have just been a lucky break I caught last time (or the position of number 7 tram on Mannerheimintie was astrologically correct).
And for some reason the packet capture-DLL fails to capture any. Works perfectly on my XP box, so the mechanism is clearly of sound nature, just fails to start in the older operating system. And of course the windows-implementation of tcpdump uses the very same library. And the library’s FAQ provides exactly uninformative answers to questions…
Sheesh. At least the “complete restart” seems to do the trick. But now I’ve probably jinxed it and it will spectacularly fail the next time.
Nope. Didn’t have my achilles tendon clipped by a shopping cart wielded by a fur-clad elderly matron in the Stockmann food emporium. The recent attack was of a personal nature.
Which is to say that it seems that I’m slowly turning from Lonely Planet to Eyewitness when selecting a travel guide. Of course, on a decently extended trip there’s uses for both. But on shorter one, the latter just takes the honors. Apart from the “where to stay”-chapter, where the former usually shines. But in the era of the instant web reservations, the need for such is decreased anyhow.
Missed “… and you will know us by the trail of the dead” at Tavastia. Just did not attract enough. So the “live music at least once a month” quota has already run dry. Have to try harder in march, it’s counted as an average over the year, right? Right?
Bugger. Have to take a trip to see some jazz as a pseudo-punishment.
