When Visa on Arrival Isn't

Many scholars have suggested that we hold a Global Round in India someday. Things like this make that much harder to imagine.

Eight Metric Tons

My welcome letter from our recent World Scholar's Cup Global Round in Kuala Lumpur, slightly edited (because editor). A strange way to jump start a moribund blog, but I guess there are no rules for this sort of thing. 

* * * * *

Dear Scholars and Friends:

Unlikely things can happen. A week from now, a security officer at the Kuala Lumpur International Airport will report a worrisome development: the invasion of the airport by thousands of stuffed animals. “Possibly camels,” he will write, “Or maybe sheep. They are very colorful.”

This gathering of 2,700 scholars from forty countries—the sixty regional rounds around the world that have brought you here—the learning you have done, on topics you may never have otherwise explored in school, from superheroes to semiotics—you have undertaken something incredibly improbable this season in the World Scholar’s Cup, and I salute you for it.

Now my team and I are all-the-honored to welcome you to the largest Global Round in the program’s history. Over the next week, you will debate difficult motions, challenge expert speakers, and enjoy unexpected moments of new friendship and hilarity. By design, it will be exhausting. I hope it will also be exhilarating.

This event—this entire program—would not be possible without the support of thousands of champions all across the world—including the volunteers you will see working their hearts out all week long. Please be sure to thank them, because they are never thanked enough. We are also so grateful to our friends at the Malaysian Institute of Debate and Public Speaking, our debate day hosts at Fairview International School and Epsom College Malaysia, and so many others, for their selfless, joyful, critical contributions to this Global Round.

People often ask me, “What is it like to have started the World Scholar’s Cup?” (Also: “How do you cope with the jetlag?”) I tell them it’s been the adventure of a lifetime. That the adventure isn’t the travel: it’s all of you. It’s the conga lines in Jordan, and the malva pudding in Johannesburg, and the first-ever teams from Kyrgyzstan (thank you for all the gifts!); it’s the scholars of Shenton and Georgiana Malloy and so many other amazing schools; it’s cookies versus cheese sticks in Hong Kong (I’m Team Cookie); it’s late-night essay grading and alpaca riots and mispronouncing your names; it’s Jerry Pwatter, and yoga fire, and the Hippwaacratic Oath.

More than any of that: it’s the breathtakingly selfless team that works so hard to bring this program together, week by week. They aren’t just the staff; they are my friends. When the season is over, or when they move on, as they someday must, to other adventures of their own, I miss them more than they know. If the World Scholar’s Cup feels like a family, it’s because there is a family behind it. And if we are so privileged as to make a small difference in your lives, it is only a reflection of the greater difference you have made in ours.

With that: we’re off on a scholar’s journey. Pwaadventure awaits!

(So do 8,500 kilograms of medals and Jerries.)

All best,

Daniel

Reminiscing about the Campaign

One morning, a man, Richard, came into our office carrying a guitar. We asked him if he wanted to volunteer. Yes, he said, but just to play music for us.

For the last year, whenever stateside, I had volunteered. I flew to New Hampshire and Indiana for the primaries; I canvassed in California before Super Tuesday and helped with voter registration in Virginia. But I wanted to do more in the closing days. Which is how I ended up at the Obama for America office in rural Asheboro, across the street from a gun shop.

I went there expecting few other volunteers. I should have known better: like Richard, they streamed in daily. Some even drove up from Georgia. Many were newly motivated high school students; others had been Democrats since Kennedy. Together we knocked on doors, made calls, and rationed out yard signs.

Some encounters were awkward. One older visitor grumbled he would never “vote for a nigger.” Wrote about him a few posts ago. Another woman walked in with a little girl and asked to share a prayer. Once had everyone had gathered, she claimed Obama would have murdered her daughter in the womb. The girl seemed unaware she had become a political statement: for that moment, at least, an object more than a child.

But for every one of those moments, I ran into so many other more inspiring ones: the immigrant voting for the first time; the woman who broke her ankle canvassing and insisted on continuing in a cast. (She ended up on phone call duty instead.)

One encounter stood out for me more than the others. It was months earlier, in New Hampshire. I assisted an elderly African-American woman limping up the street to cast her ballot in the primary. Her speech was slurred, maybe from a stroke. Afterward volunteers from different campaigns put down their signs to help me figure out how to get her home. One couple had hosted the Clintons’ wedding reception in Arkansas; another man had served in Vietnam with John McCain. I saw people in our country really do come together when someone’s well-being is on the line.

I often wish I had done more. But then: I spent Election Night in a crowded room in downtown Asheboro, with new friends who had come from throughout the county to eat pizza and watch the news together. In the end we lost the county 70-28—but it didn’t matter. At 11:01 pm, some Republicans from up the street brought us a basket of apples, and Richard struck up America the Beautiful.

Beware of Dog

The elevators in the Beijing Airport warn you not to bring dangerous animals aboard.

How to Score Free Tea

Visit a hotel, explain you're organizing an international academic tournament, and ask if they'd be interested in hosting about two hundred participants for at least three nights. Ten minutes later, you'll be drinking your choice of tea, coffee or juice with a friendly sales rep.

Eleven Things I Learned in Central America

A few weeks ago, I took a trip to Central America. Eventually, I'll write a longer blog about it. For now, some things I learned about the area:

1. Parts of it are very cold. The highland areas feature alpine forests and demand blankets at night. The lowland areas are sweltering. The hotter the area, the poorer it seems. When people warn you against visiting Central America, they’re probably thinking of these parts: trash runs on the streets, music blares from every storefront, and mosquitoes bite you. Up high, volcanoes rim the sky and people have fewer skin problems.

2. El Salvador is lucky to have a delicious staple food: the pupusa. Pupusas are circles of stuffed dough, fried in lard and filled with beans and cheese or various meats and other vegetables. The two most unusual pupusas I tried contained shrimp and, on the Guatemalan border, unidentifiable dark leaves. One very good pupusa vendor asked me to take her back to the United States to open up a pupuseria. “Seramos socios,” she said. (“We’ll be partners.”) It seemed like a good idea, minus the visa issues. Pupusas really ought to be as popular as tacos.

3. When travel guides say the city of Antigua is very colonial, they mean everyone there is a European tourist. (Americans are strangely absent.)

4. It is possible to fit 36 people in a van with 18 seats. The word “in” is deceiving, however, as some of these people may hang out the door. The passenger count can surpass 50 if you include chickens and machetes.

5. You know a country has had a hard time of it when there are more signs at restaurants prohibiting guns than there are prohibiting smoking.

6. It’s not hard to fall asleep near a night market, provided you wait to go to bed around 1 am. It’s hard, however, to stay asleep, since the music starts again around 4 am.

7. Korean immigrants have settled in their own sections of Guatemala City, reportedly even introducing their own schools and supermarkets. In other words, they have recreated Granada Hills.

8. Always check hotel sheets for hair and bread crumbs—preferably before you move in.

9. Retired school buses can run indefinitely if exported to Central America and repainted with sufficient references to Jesus.

10. The town of Chiquimula has only one thing going for it: good, cheap food. (That, and it's sort of named for my puppy.) It’s neither good nor cheap enough. And it's also named for a mule.

11. Central American governments must design their roads to make any two cities seem as far apart as possible. For example, one 30 km stretch in northern El Salvador, to the town of Metapan, took three hours. This technique probably helps people believe their countries are larger.

One Puffin or Two?

"Would you like one puffin or two?" the waitress asked. (Years ago, applying to Harvey Mudd for college, I selected the puffin as the animal I would most like to be. I never anticipated eating one.)

Later, walked around town, which felt like something built (with help from IKEA) for a ScandinaviaWorld amusement park: very prim, neat and colorful. Even the buses.

Late Sunrise

At 10 in the morning, Iceland is tidy, cute, and still very dark. I'll write more about it when the sun comes up. (I'm assuming it will. We're not that far north... are we?)

Right now, I'm huddled in a cafe with a dense mixture of tourists and locals, indulging in a second almond croissant. Somehow, I've gotten in the habit of eating too many desserts lately. No doubt it'll have consequences later on. My friend Chuan-Mei, who persuaded me to take this trip, is off at a museum being a better tourist than me.

Fruit Basket

Not long after the networks called Ohio, the Republican Headquarters up the street sent us a bunch of (appropriately red) apples. It was an odd gift, but we appreciated it.

Living the Hearsay

An older man stopped in front of the office and stared inside. Thinking he might want to volunteer, I went outside to greet him.

"I've been a conservative Democrat for sixty years," he said to me. Then he pointed at a sketch of Obama in the window and added, casually, "I wouldn't vote for that nigger if he was the last man on Earth."

Alpacas for Obama

Volunteers at the Obama campaign office in Asheboro, North Carolina.

Biscuitville

I've been told it's sort of like a bagel shop.

Juan y Danilo

I should have figured I would get stopped in a rural North Carolina parking lot by two well-groomed men from Colombia and Peru desperately seeking directions to a wedding.

I volunteered my iPhone.

Able Bodies

Somehow, my grandfather ended up on the cover of a book about exercise. He may not be related to the rest of us.

It's Not Particularly Noteworthy

But I'll blog it anyway: a dog just peed on me at the park.

Maybe I bear a passing resemblance to a tree.

Syracuse

"Ladies and gentlemen, the fuel truck is here."

I celebrated quietly over my laptop.

"Unfortunately," the pilot continued, "the airport has only one set of air stairs, and only person to drive them, so they aren't available right now."

We're currently stuck on the tarmac at Syracuse Hancock International Airport, waiting to be refueled before continuing on to New York City. The weather there was so bad that we ran low on fuel circling JFK.

I'm puzzled, though. What do air stairs have to do with refueling--does a man stand on the stairs holding the hose?

Economic Stimulus Package

I wish someone would nominate me for vice president so I could get a new wardrobe.

Subscriber Base

We recently sent out this brochure in hopes of securing more pro-America DemiDec subscribers.

Damages

Our rental car company charged us $15 for a dinged hubcap. I think we got off easy, considering we effectively went off-roading in a Yaris.

Bandits with Badges

A bit of a stressful night, culminating in a confrontation with five Nicaraguan police officers demanding $50 for a fictitious foreign driver's penalty. Resisted with help from my iPhone, which confirmed their claim was bogus and advised requesting their badge numbers and names. It worked: when I pulled out a pen to write down their information, they handed back our documents and let us go. We shook hands and parted about as amicably as possible. Lots of fake smiles.

Now at a small hotel directly across the street from the airport, itching.

Next Time, Flip-Flops

Looking for a rumored beach in Nicaragua, south of San Juan del Sur. We had to abandon our rental car along the side of the road and carry on by foot. Later the police escorted us back.

Horsing Around

Driving from the Managua airport to the colonial town of Granada was mostly uneventful; the highlight was not hitting a horse that had decided to graze on the highway. Now camped at a small hotel with very pink walls, an open courtyard, and lukewarm showers.

Sweet Violence

I was reserving a place to stay in Nicaragua for the weekend and came across this gem of description on a hostel website:

According to official UN reports regarding personal safety, Nicaragua is the second safest nation in the Americas, after Canada. If you come to Nicaragua and someone tries to mug you, all you have to do is yell. The assailant will then be captured, beaten, tied and handed over to the police by the citizens themselves. This is Nicaragua, sweetly violent.

We Are Foreign People

I don't rant in here often, unless you count my political posts. So allow me a moment, please.

I've been blessed with the chance to grow up not just in America, but in a part of the country where diversity is a fact of life. Yes, I attended high school at a time when sentiments against illegal immigrants were running hot--and I'm ashamed that I let them get to me as much as they did. (My father immigrated illegally from Chile.) Both before and after that, however, I've felt very little to make me uneasy about my background. (I suppose I'm also blessed with the ability to look native in lots of places, even northern China.)

Tonight, though, was one of those moments when I spotted something ugly lurking underneath a pleasant face.

My parents are selling their house. Long story short, they're running into some trouble with the buyer over water intrusion issues. Their real estate agent (one Jeff Gysin, theoretically representing them, and, indeed, professionally pleasant) wrote the following to the other agent.

"They are foreign people and don’t understand."

He then accidentally forwarded it to my parents. There's more, but that's the gist of it. In one sentence, he undermines his own clients and pinpoints their origin as the reason why they're being uncooperative.

In a phone call, he denied ever writing it. Ugly.

There's prejudice in the private sphere (bad enough) and then there's exposing it in your professional life. It's especially frustrating that my parents thought this man was looking out for their interests, when apparently he was just hearing their accents.

That One Leads 3-0

I must not have been following the news closely enough this week. In tonight's final presidential debate, McCain kept mentioning Joe the Plumber, who is apparently becoming a YouTube sensation. Problem is, I never imagined he'd actually refer to someone as "Joe the Plumber." That kind of thing would make me--what--Dan the DemiDec guy? (Okay, no comment.) Still, I naturally assumed his name was Joe DiPlaumer and he was... maybe Italian.

Other moments from the debate that I enjoyed included John the Senator rolling his eyes and blinking a lot. He was either channeling Amy Poehler channeling Katie Couric or in need of eyedrops. Also, was it just me (and the five hundred people watching with me), or did McCain refer to Governor Palin as a breast of fresh air?

Fatherly Advice

My dad is a political pundit. Every so often, he declares, boldly, something he knows to be true. In October 2000, he assured me that no Republican would ever again win the White House. (Of course, he then went out and voted for one.) In 2004, unabashed, he predicted Bush had no chance of reelection. The Iraq War, he said, was a disaster. A few swift boats and flip-flops later, he was at the local polling place... voting for the incumbent.

Nearly a year ago, he offered his latest presidential prognostication. Hillary Clinton, he said, could win against any candidate. Barack Obama had no chance. My dad derives a lot of his insight from conservative talk radio, but this particular belief was homegrown, since conservative talk radio was no fan of Clinton's.

About two months ago, he changed his tune somewhat. Obama could win if he took Clinton as his VP pick. Otherwise, he still had no chance. When Obama chose someone else, he said it was over.

Now, he says McCain can't win. I don't think he says this because he follows the percentages of http://www.fivethirtyeight.com/ (to which I've outsourced all my political analysis. Seriously. Friends used to ask me my opinion. Now I give them that link.) Actually, he's probably just buying into conventional wisdom. But, for once, I believe he's right.

To qualify, though, my dad does have a bit of advice for McCain. Drop Palin and announce Romney as your new running mate. I don't think this would save him at all -- probably just make him look even more erratic. Not to mention, it would be the All-Multiple-Manors ticket. So, I hope this takes care of the "my dad is usually wrong" quota and that his broader prophecy comes true.

Multitasking in Hong Kong

I connected in Hong Kong today, after a fourteen hour journey that featured me working in the galley. It was the only place I could charge my laptop. On arriving there, I had a choice of shower or breakfast. I'd like to call it the best shower of my life. It was at least close to that, and it turns out that calculated gulps of hot water can help wash down a mealy croissant. 

Sanjai's Wedding

Believe it or not, the picture below has nothing to do with this year's presidential election.


Nearly a decade ago, my friend Sanjai and I participated in the first-ever Shakespearean political protest in Washington, D.C.. (We were the only participants.) We created a sign that looked a lot like this one and marched up and down the street in front of the White House until the Secret Service shooed us away.

I recreated the sign to use as a surprise visual aid for my toast at Sanjai's wedding. It worked; Sanjai looked dumbfounded as he pulled it out from under a rug. Since I had given an otherwise identical speech at his previous wedding, I figured I had to shake it up a little. (The previous wedding was the previous weekend, and to the same woman; otherwise, I'd have written a new toast.)

Behind it, you can see VNS Chicken, an up-and-coming Korean fried chicken chain whose owner also dabbles in SAT prep. SAT prep has its share of critics, but it is better for you than fried chicken.

The Easiest Answer

The barista at the Starbucks near YBM recognized me from a year ago. I recognized her, too - she always had a big smile and greeted me energetically.

Today, she asked me, in very basic English, "What do you do?"

There were any number of ways I could have answered this. I considered showing her a file or two on my computer. Or asking her to judge at next week's competition. But I haven't slept well this week. And my answers usually confuse people even when we speak the same language.

So I just pulled an alpaca finger puppet out of my backpack and presented it to her.

"Puppet!" she said.

"Alpaca," I explained.

Difficulties Getting Clean

This morning I presented the staff of the Metro Hotel with a showerhead.

It had been the showerhead in my bathroom until I I tried to adjust the direction of water flow from "toward the toilet" to "toward me".

Afterward I still wanted to be clean, so I took a bath. I turned out to be about 50% longer than the bathtub.

100 Won

Just for reference, parking meters in Pasadena offer a favorable conversion rate: 100 won for 25 U.S. cents, for a net savings of about 15 cents per 12 minutes of parking.

The Obama Comma

It struck me tonight that the reader comments on articles about the Democratic primary race remind me of book reviews on Amazon of The Da Vinci Code.

At least when I last looked at those reviews, about a year ago, most of those critical of The Da Vinci Code were highly literate, well-written, even stylish. They also tended to be grammatically sound. (There were exceptions, of course, especially those that criticized the novel not for flat characters or a predictable plot, but for its sacrilegious content.) Reviews praising the novel had a lot more mistakes in them - and sweeping assertions.

I'm finding that, in general, comments in support of one of the two remaining Democratic candidates are much less well written than those in support of the other. They tend to use more all caps and exclamation points. I leave it to you to determine which candidate I mean.

Unreasonable Disagreement

I haven't written much about the election here since the Iowa caucuses. I've stuck by my assessment then, in the waning days of December: that Obama is the more electable Democrat. In Wisconsin, two-third of voters in the Democratic primary agreed with me. He is far more likely than Clinton to build an effective governing majority in the Congress - and, like it or not, to inspire the American people.

Along the way, though, I've met supporters of the other candidates. In fact, in New Hampshire, I spent time with a couple who hosted the Clinton wedding thirty years ago, and with various Edwards and McCain volunteers. They all impressed me with how polite, affable and considerate they were - especially the McCain folks.

The New Hampshire defeat - what can I say? At the time, it was a surprise, and a sad one. But, in retrospect, it extended the contest in a way that has allowed voters in state after state to become part of the process. It's been an amazing form of enfranchisement. Not only does every vote matter, but, for once, every state does too. No matter who wins in the end, at least it wasn't just Iowa and New Hampshire deciding for the rest of us.

But the campaign has also gotten uglier.

* * * *

I met a woman tonight at a dinner I stopped by briefly. (I left before eating.) She belonged to a demographic that has not been voting for Obama in large numbers: older, Jewish, female. Needless to say, I'm related to this demographic down various branches of the family tree.

I've had plenty of conversations with individuals who support other candidates--not just volunteers in New Hampshire, but folks in California and elsewhere -- but this woman was Mark Penn's dream voter. She had absorbed all the Clinton rhetoric, and then some.

I can't vote for someone whose middle name is Hazan, she said. (Someone else at the table corrected her, though she didn't seem keen on Hussein either.) She went on, predictably, to declare Obama a Muslim. Others in the room chimed in. He has no experience, she said. Maybe in four years she could vote for him. (Of course, she earlier said that she could never vote for him, but I let this go.) He has no plans, she said. Millions of Americans are voting for him, she agreed. "But they are American," she said. "They think with their asses."

Her conclusion, with regard to his campaign: "What is this shit?"

My sister was there. At this point in the conversation, she suggested I leave, which seemed prudent.

There is a spiteful part of me that hopes Obama wins just because I want the bigots to be defeated. Maybe they'll see, a few years down the line, that a man with the middle name Hussein can be every bit as American as they are. The strength of this country isn't in those who it excludes, but in those who it embraces.

The Bees of Yemen

The check-in agent looked over me critically. "You're not from Yemen, are you?"

"Nope," I said, resting my pillow and a stash of banana bread on the counter. "Not Yemen. Why?"

"Well, the computer says you are."

I admitted to her that I wasn't sure I could locate Yemen on a map, unless it was a very little map and I could gesture generally toward the Middle East.

She said she wouldn't have known either, if not for the honey. They don't have any, she explained. Yemen has no bees. (My mother would like living in Yemen, I thought.) She continued: because Yemen has no bees, it has to import all its honey. (This seemed reasonable.) Every Tuesday, when she worked at SFO, many people headed to Yemen would check in with boxes and boxes of honey--more boxes than their free luggage allowance afforded.

All that talk of bees and honey made me think of Pushing Daisies.

She leaned in across the counter. "They'd try to buy me off with honey," she confided. "To avoid penalties. But rules are rules!"

Incumbency

As the Iowa caucuses open tonight, it looks like Obama is opening a slim but consistent lead in the polls on the Democratic side. For example, the Zogby tracker I mentioned earlier, which refreshes 1/3 of its results each day, had Obama move from two points back on January 1 to a near-tie yesterday to four points ahead today. For the numbers to swing 4 points in Obama's direction when the results from December 30 were dropped and the results from January 2 added, he must have been running 12 points better on January 2 than on December 30. This seems to confirm that momentum has shifted to Obama in the closing hours of the race.

Whether this was merely reflected in the January 1 Register poll or helped along by it is up to your particular theory of polling and public opinion. I tend to think it's a combination: the trend had to be there in the first place, but waking up on New Year's to see Obama "in the lead" couldn't have discouraged even more Iowans from choosing to vote for him.

But, instead of focusing on today's poll numbers, I wanted to say something more general about incumbency. An "incumbent" candidate is one who is running for reelection. Bush was an incumbent candidate in 2004, Clinton in 1996, etc. Incumbents tend to begin races with very good name recognition, while their opponents tend to be less well known. This usually gives incumbents an early lead in polls that shrinks as their opponents become better known. This is also one reason why incumbents try early on to "frame" the popular description of their opponent before voters can come to their own conclusions.

In 2004, George Bush had nearly as dramatic a history of "flip flopping" as John Kerry. He opposed the Department of Homeland Security before he supported it. He was against intervening in other countries before he was for it. Etcetera. One could argue the Kerry campaign didn't successfully hit back on Bush for this. But it would have been hard to: Bush already had four years of incumbency to form a public opinion of him. People had made up their minds about what kind of man he was. Those who opposed him opposed him because they saw him as dumb, stubborn, and so on. Those who supported him supported him because they saw him as a good, strong man of steady conviction, someone they'd rather have over for a barbecue. They wouldn't have been swayed that much by reminders of an inconsistent record that they had already lived through and chosen to support.

However, in the closing days of a race between an incumbent and a challenger, undecided voters tend "to break for" the challenger. Why would this be? A well-regarded 1980s study suggests that undecided voters already know nearly everything they need to know about the incumbent. They've had years to figure out whether or not they like him or her, and if they're still not sure a few days before the election, they can't have liked him or her very much. The challenger, at least, has the potential to be different. In 2004, this effect was probably offset by fears of terrorism, stoked by Bin Laden's last-minute message to the American people, but in general it's held up, including in the 2006 mid-term elections.

I bring this up because one Democratic candidate chose to run for the nomination as if she were the incumbent. After all, she had the name recognition of an incumbent. She had (she claims) the experience of an incumbent. Unfortunately for Clinton, it seems she also has the flip side baggage of an incumbent: many Iowans who haven't made up their minds yet are breaking for one of the challengers.

This may be one reason she's a distant third when it comes to voters' "second choices" - which will be very important tonight, since many first choice supporters of Biden, Richardson, and the other Democratic candidates will probably find their candidates not viable and be given the chance to choose again.


It's still possible Hillary Clinton will win the Iowa caucus. The numbers are tight enough and the caucusing process sufficiently unpredictable. If she does, it's a clean road to the nomination. It'll vindicate her strategy of positioning herself (some critics would say posing) as an incumbent. But it's increasingly likely she'll take second or even third, behind John Edwards. If Obama wins a convincing victory tonight, it could boost him past Clinton in New Hampshire, where he's running a few points behind but a lot of people remain undecided. (And we know how that goes.)

Clinton's campaign will continue no matter what happens in Iowa and New Hampshire, because she remains very popular in many of the big states that will vote on February 5. But if the tide is going to turn against her nationally, it'll start to turn tonight.

I'll close this section of my post with a quote from today's Zogby poll analysis. It will seem very apt if Clinton loses Iowa, and rather premature if she wins-though even then, it's something she'll need to confront in the general election.

"When it became clear that voters in Iowa were looking for change, Clinton became the candidate who kept changing, not the one of change."

* * * * *

A quick anecdote. I was sharing with a male relative of mine, who proudly voted for Bush in 1988, Perot in 1992, Clinton in 1996, Bush in 2000 and Kerry in 2004 (whether this makes him independent, indecisive or merely remorseful I can't say) that it looks like a lot of independents and Republicans will be supporting Obama in Iowa, and that this foreshadows his crossover appeal in the general election were he to win the nomination.

"They're only pretending," he said to me, "so that Clinton isn't nominated. They're afraid of her."

In other words, he sees an Iowan right-wing conspiracy.

* * * * *

So, a peek at the right wing. Until recently, it's been very confused. But it looks like Huckabee could pull out a convincing victory against Romney tonight, clearing the way for McCain to upset the deflated Romney in New Hampshire. (Huckabee, a charismatic guitar player who doesn't believe in evolution, isn't polling well in New Hampshire and has very little ground organization there.)

Once McCain wins New Hampshire, he instantly becomes the front-runner against Rudy Giuliani, who has been sitting on the sidelines simmering in scandal soup. Meanwhile, Romney implodes and goes back to hunting varmints.

It seemed unlikely a few months, but a match-up of McCain versus Clinton or Obama is more plausible by the day. And he'd do well against either.

Against Clinton, McCain can play the character card--he's a man of conviction, not a political opportunist. With his appeal to independents and moderates, he'd probably (to quote Charles Bibilos) "clobber her".

Against Obama, McCain can play the experience card--only more convincingly than Clinton could. This match-up is a tough one to call. It could go either way, especially if Obama selected an experienced running mate, like Joe Biden, and McCain selected someone younger and more hopeful, unlike Joe Lieberman. But regardless of the outcome, McCain versus Obama would probably be something that we haven't seen in a very long time in American politics: civil.

Kentucky Fried Primary

In lieu of my own post today, I refer you to the rather greasy analysis of a fellow DemiDec editor, Charles Bibilos. I disagree with him somewhat about Huckabee's chances in the general election, but concur in most other regards, especially when it comes to the fried chicken. You may also enjoy reading about his adventures with dengue fever.

The Register

Happy New Year! Due to some impending deadlines in Korea, I don't have time to write in much detail, but I wanted to add a few more words on recent developments in Iowa.

The Des Moines Register poll came out last night. In 2004, it correctly predicted the Kerry, Edwards, Dean finish. (It didn't predict Dean's scream, but polls have their limitations.) It's easy to forget now, but Kerry wasn't the favorite even two weeks before the Iowa caucuses: Howard Dean was. Both Kerry and Edwards soared in the closing days of the campaign. The Register poll picked up on that. It's well-regarded for accurately assessing who is likely to participate in the caucuses, something with which national polling companies have less experience.

With that said, the Obama campaign seemed braced for bad news. It held a morning presentation yesterday about how it was positioned to continue campaigning in other states no matter what happened Thursday. Rumors bounced about on the Internet that his numbers were looking dim. The Clinton campaign had already stabilized a lead in most other polls, including Zogby's, and some had Obama slipping into third.

The Register poll turned those findings upside-down. On the Democratic side, Obama had the support of 32% of likely caucus-goers, compared to 25% for Hillary Clinton and 24% for Edwards. On the Republican side, it showed Huckabee maintaining a similar lead over the hard-hitting Romney (32% to 26%).

It's tempting to look at these numbers and cover them as what pundits call a horse race. "Obama soars to a lead!" "Edwards stumbles in the final lap." That kind of thing. I had a professor at the Kennedy School who felt otherwise, but I believe this kind of coverage in the media has the potential to affect the margins of public opinion. Undecided voters may be more likely to choose someone with a better chance of winning. It's similar to the phenomenon in sports known as "bandwagon fans". Even my beloved Clippers had some bandwagon fans a couple years ago.

So, let's not go overboard with these results. Let's check out some of the headlines, though. In the Register, the most widely-read newspaper in Iowa, the headline reads:

"New Iowa Poll: Obama widens lead over Clinton"
MSNBC matches this word for word, minus "New Iowa Poll".
Similarly, the Washington Post runs with "Poll Shows Obama Holds 7-Point Lead in Iowa"

-- These headlines imply (a) that there is such a thing as a lead and (b) that Obama had one. The former depends on how you look at things (you could argue that not a single vote has been cast) and the latter negates the last two weeks or so of media coverage, which revolved mostly around Hillary Clinton's growing lead (particularly plausible given recent foreign events) and an angry John Edwards surging past Obama. Obama got a lot of coverage for ostensibly implying that Hillary Clinton's foreign policy experience amounted to drinking tea with the wives of foreign leaders.

The Edwards and Clinton campaigns were quick to discredit some apparent quirks in the Register poll. For one, it predicts that 45% of the people attending the Democratic caucuses will be independents and Republicans. They strongly favor Obama. If they don't show up, Clinton "pulls ahead" in the numbers. This underscores my point from the other day: Obama is the candidate who, for whatever reason, most successfully reaches out to independents and Republicans. It would make him a very effective nominee, and very hard to defeat if the Republican nominee lacks similar crossover appeal. (It's ironic that for Democrats to nominate the Democrat with the best chance of winning next November, they may need help from some non-Democrats.) However, in 2004, only 19% of caucus attendees were independents and Republicans. So for the poll numbers to hold, there has to be a significantly different turnout in 2008. It's possible, but you never know.

Similarly, the poll shows that 60% of those attending the caucuses will be doing so for the first time. This would be remarkable. Since these new attendees heavily favor Obama (75% of those who said they plan to caucus for him say they've never caucused before) it makes his position a little precarious. The best predictor of future behavior, in relationships as well as in voting, is past behavior. Then again, the Clinton and Obama campaigns are working incredibly hard to turn out new caucus-goers, so it's not at all implausible that participation rates will soar.

What to make of all this? Probably the following.

1. Obama needed some good news with which to close out the campaign. This gives him momentum heading into the caucuses. His campaign will ignore the other polls unless they change in his favor. His opponents will do the opposite, but the Register is the most widely-reported and respected poll in Iowa. Advantage: Obama.

2. Turnout is key. This is a political truism; turnout is always key. But it really, really is. The winner Thursday will depend largely on who shows up for the first time.

3. What happens within the actual caucuses is also important. They're, to say the least, peculiar, especially on the Democrats' side. People gather in a room and publicly declare their candidate preference. They gather in groups accordingly. Groups which represent less than 15% of the room are required to dissolve; their members have to choose one of the remaining "viable" candidates (or, presumably, leave, but then they might lose out on the sandwiches being provided by the Clinton campaign.) Precinct captains for each campaign try to persuade the reallocated voters to join them. Reputably, there's even some wheeling and dealing. All this makes things unpredictable.

There's not much time left, but if you like the horse race, keep an eye on the Zogby three-day daily tracking poll. Remember, it's had Clinton in the lead for a few days. Each day, it adds a new day of results and removes the oldest day. If it reflects a tightening of the race tomorrow, it could mean that the Iowa poll results helped some late breaking voters decide for Obama. A third of caucus-goers also said they were still willing to change their mind before Thursday, so what looks like a tight race could break wide open for one or another of the three leading candidates before the end.

Not Exactly Harry Potter

This last week, I've been writing and editing children's passages for English learning books in Korea. I thought I'd share a couple examples to give a sense of where my mind's been lately when it's not studying polls.

Help! My time machine malfunctioned. I wanted to visit the American Revolution, but I looked outside and there are gigantic animals everywhere. I think they are dinosaurs. They are definitely not American.

If you find this message, please send help. Tell my friends that I am stranded many millions of years in the past. I need someone to rescue me as soon as possible. For now, I will try to hide in a cave. I just hope none of the dinosaurs are hungry.

---

Couple seeks reliable computer geek to take care of two baby robots, R2 and R3. They do not need food or love, but they are very smart and like challenges. Their favorite games include Sudoku and chess. They communicate with blinking lights and beeping sounds. They shut down automatically at bedtime.
R2 and R3 are toilet-trained. However, in case of accidents, knowledge of computer programming is a plus.
Candidates must be available evenings and weekends.
Pay rate depends on experience.
Please reply to: Mr. and Mrs. D2

---

Today, I faced off against a wizard named Anzor. He wore dark robes and held a smoking wand.

He cried, “You had better surrender, farmer boy, or I will destroy your home!”

I hesitated. He was a level five wizard and I wasn’t very strong. But I had a secret weapon.

“I will fight!” I typed, lifting my magic shovel.

“A magic shovel?” Anzor laughed. “What will you do? Dig a magic hole?”

He waved a hand. I was pinned down. Behind me my farm disintegrated.

Sigh. So much for the shovel. Maybe tomorrow I’ll go back to playing Scrabble.

Collision

Last night, a small boy was staring at me as he walked up the sidewalk. His head swiveled as he moved past me. I looked back at him. I wasn't sure if he was amused or trying to pick a fight, but he seemed about three or four, so I figured if it were the former I didn't mind, and if it were the latter I would probably win.

He kept staring, and kept walking at the same time, until he collided with a glass wall and began to cry.

A Redcoat Perspective

As a follow-up to my note/analysis from yesterday, I recommend this article that came out today in the UK. It very aptly summarizes the different candidates and their approaches, with a focus on those candidates who leverage fear as a campaign strategy.

Looking ahead, tomorrow should see a spate of polls released. Will be interesting. If time permits, I'll write another ramble.

Less Electable

Today, a friend of mine called me from Austria to share that he used Clorox wipes on himself in the bathroom by mistake. He thought of me when it happened. I'll let that go.

---

On a more serious note, the Iowa caucuses are coming up, and I wanted to offer my two cents in rebuttal to some colleagues and family members who are supporting Hillary Clinton because they think she's the most electable Democrat next November.

I'll qualify my remarks by admitting I don't know that much about Clinton's actual policy positions. I do know she's shifted them quite a bit over the years, or even during debates, but that's easier to criticize than it is to avoid in practice. I'm actually fairly sure she'd make a good president - if she were elected.

So, let's assume a few things for the sake of discussion.

(I'm about to lose my Republican readership.)

(1) Any Democrat winning in 2008 is a positive. This is, of course, a disputable assumption. Let's set it aside for now.

(2) The Democratic candidates are more alike in their policy positions than they are different. They have different health care plans, but they all have health care plans. They all want to change No Child Left Behind (even those who voted for it). Edwards is more protectionist and anti-business, Obama is more into community-building, Clinton is--more experienced. But in general, any of these three candidates will steer the country in a much more progressive direction than his or her GOP counterpart. Democrats should be happy no matter which one wins (if one of them wins at all).

(3) A president is more capable of enacting daring policies if Congress lines up behind him or her.

(4) Congress is more likely to line up behind the president if the president's party has a significant majority in Congress. The greater the majority, the better the chances for the president's agenda to pass, especially once the blush of days 1-100 fades.

(5) Representatives and Senators who oppose a president will be cast as obstructionist if the president is popular enough with enough Americans - a la Ronald Reagan, or George Bush in 2002. Conversely, if a Democratic president is a polarizing figure, Republican congressmen can go home and boast of defying her, while Democrats will face added peril in midterm elections.

With that said, we should evaluate which Democrat has the best chance of (a) winning a general election, (b) working with a supportive Congress and (c) motivating the opposition to support him or her or risk political fallout.

Polls are a good place to start. They are notoriously inaccurate, especially exit polls in Ohio, but my sixth assumption will be that, taken in sum, they have some value for seeing where the electorate is.

Polls consistently indicate that Clinton has a commanding lead nationally in the primaries - 15 or more points on her closest rival, Obama. Asked why they're choosing Clinton over Obama, many Democrats say it's because she has the best chance of winning the general election. For example, according to a recent LA Times/Bloomberg poll, "Democrats seem to agree that Clinton has the best chance of beating the Republicans in 2008--38% in Iowa, 45% in New Hampshire and 48% in South Carolina."

At the same time, polls consistently indicate that of the major Democratic candidates, Clinton fares much worse than Obama in hypothetical matchups with the major Republican candidates. She sometimes beats Huckabee and Romney, but almost always loses against Rudy and McCain. Here's a typical poll demonstrating this. For those of you who don't want to click, here are some numbers from last week.

Obama (D) 53%, Romney (R) 35%
Obama (D) 47%, Huckabee (R) 42%
Obama (D) 48%, Giuliani (R) 39%
Obama (D) 47%, McCain (R) 43%
Obama (D) 52%, Thompson (R) 36%
---
Clinton (D) 46%, Romney (R) 44%
Huckabee (R) 48%, Clinton (D) 43%
Giuliani (R) 46%, Clinton (D) 42%
McCain (R) 49%, Clinton (D) 42%
Clinton (D) 48%, Thompson (R) 42%

(http://www.zogby.com/news/ReadNews.dbm?ID=1404)

Notably, these are the same people in each sample. That means, for example, that for every 100 people surveyed, six people who would vote for Obama against Giuliani would not vote for Clinton against Giulani. The same phenomenon is evident across the board. Some people who would vote for Obama against anyone would not vote for Clinton against that same anyone. Something similar happens when people are asked, generically, whether they would support a Democrat or Republican for president. The unnamed Democrat runns far ahead, usually about 9% (the same was true before the 2004 election). As soon as names are inserted, we get the results above. That means people who think they would vote for a Democrat change their mind when they learn that she's the Democrat.

This points at a curious contradiction: Democrats who support Clinton because they think she is the most electable Democrat may not realize that she's not - that she's still a polarizing figure for many Republicans. Clinton might manage to win the presidency, but unless she's running against a weak GOP candidate, she would win by a thin margin at best: hardly a mandate. It would be another 49-49 election (or worse).

Furthermore, because she attracts so much of an opposition vote, her presence on the ballot could hurt downticket Democrats in vulnerable areas - that is, Congressional and gubernatorial candidates also running for office next November, especially incumbent Democrats in strongly Republican regions. Many Democrats were elected to Congress in 2006 in a strongly anti-Republican wave. To stay in office, they need a lot of people to vote for them again who would traditionally vote for Republicans.

What the Democrats need, then, is someone who will not only draw more Democrats to the polls, but who would persuade independents and other moderate Republicans to give Democrats a chance - both for president and for lower offices. A person who comes and votes against Clinton by default because they hated the Clintons in the 1990s (even if today's Hillary positions herself as a moderate) is more likely to vote against other Democrats too. (This is known as the "coattails effect".) Even more worrisome, a person who votes against Clinton because she's been successfully cast by the opposition as a political calculator instead of a person of principle is likelier to lump other Democrats in with her.

As John Edwards put it in a recent debate, "America is looking for a president who will say the same thing, who will be consistent..." This shouldn't be a surprise. A lot of admiration for John McCain comes from the fact that he (reputably) always speaks his mind - and usually speaks it the same way. Bush had this going for him in 2004, even if I didn't agree with much of what he kept saying the same way. Obama, too, has shown consistency. To his credit, so has Edwards, except for a brief detour on the Kerry ticket. But Clinton, like Kerry before her, has changed her mind - a lot. Now, I change my mind a lot too. I think mind-changing is morally defensible; as new things come up, old views can change. Changing your mind for political convenience is less defensible, but understandable.

However, the American electorate doesn't like inconsistent candidates. Recent elections have emphasized that lots of people vote for president more on perceptions of character and likeability than on the issues. Republicans flayed John Kerry as a flip-flopper in 2004, and Hillary Clinton suffers from a similar degree of doublespeak. I'm not here to disapprove of her changing her views, but to point out that they will allow her to be caricatured - as in an October debate when she seemed to come out both for and against granting driver's licenses to illegal immigrants. It makes for great campaign commercials. Anyone remember Kerry windsurfing? Here's a little piece from the Edwards campaign that previews how the GOP would treat Clinton. You can trust the Republican ads would be even better. (For example, here's an ad designed by top Republican strategists attacking Mitt Romney for pretending to be a lot more conservative now than he used to be - or for pretending then and telling the truth now. It's hard to know.)

Certainly the GOP could attack Obama as inexperienced. But inexperience can also be portrayed as an openness to new ideas, or as an echo of JFK and Bill Clinton. Inconsistency is just inconsistency.

In 2004, Democrats overwhelmingly favored John Kerry in the primaries over Howard Dean and John Edwards because he was the "most electable" candidate with the most experience in government. They chose to overlook his inability to inspire and his history of saying one thing, then saying another. That didn't work out so well.

Hillary Clinton would run a better campaign than Kerry did, but she has similar vulnerabilities and lots of baggage. Those who want her as the nominee simply because they are hungry for a winner may be in for a disappointment.

Then again, maybe McCain the Man of Conviction or Rudy the Warrior Mayor wouldn't be so bad?

Hot or Cold

Was working at a coffee shop in Korea. It was very warm, so I asked a gentleman behind the counter, who had previously supplied me with a cup of darjeeling, if he could lower the temparature. I did this mostly with pantomimes. "Hot," I said, and demonstrated that I would rather it be cold by hugging my body tight and pretending to shiver.

He nodded in sudden understanding, then turned up the heat.

This is why you don't want me on your team for a game of charades.

The Stars and Bars

I was mistaken for Korean for the third time today, by my cab driver. He proceeded to bash the United States. "They talk human rights, then their kids shoot other kids," he said. "Is that human rights?"

He also expressed concern that my fellow Koreans were being corrupted by American culture.

* * *

Later, I flew out of Changi Airport to Cambodia. I did something that probably means I ought to be on a watch list: I agreed to check in someone else's bag. She was distraught, a Singaporean woman whose son had just left his Chinese flute on a cab. Later, she and her family treated me to dinner in Phnom Penh: Cambodian chicken, Cambodian fish, Cambodian eggs and Cambodian rice. All hormone-free, she explained, and tastier than their Singaporean equivalents.

* * * *

"There's something pointy in your bag," the woman at airport security insisted. She dug into my backpack--and pulled out a Confederate flag. She held it high for inspection: for the first time, the Stars and Bars flew over Singapore. She gingerly poked herself with the miniature flag pole, then carried it over to her shift supervisor, who decided it wasn't a weapon and allowed me to keep it.

They probably thought it was the flag of an innocuous nation in Europe.

I looked around to see if any Americans were present and shooting me dark stares. None in sight.

Of course, you may be wondering what I was doing with a Confederate flag. Would it suffice to call it a good luck charm during the World Series, meant to aid my friend Craig win his furniture? I picked it up in New York a few days before that, not realizing I would soon unintentionally become an international representative of the South. It's a mid-length story related to Robert E. Lee, AK-47s and the Battle of Shiloh; too sleepy to relate it, but at least I had better luck traveling than my colleagues on the Trent.

Enjoy the Experience

I just arrived at my fourth hotel of the day. First, the one in which I briefly showered, changed and edited ditties in Manila. Second, the one I had ostensibly reserved here in Singapore, named for Captain Sulu's old ship. It, however, blamed a burst water pipe on the 24th floor and sent me somewhere else, except it was the wrong somewhere else: there are two Park Royals in town. At any rate, I'm now settled in a triple, very sleepy, not really ready for five meetings today, including with my old friends from ACS who came to Worlds last year.

Also, I should note that Manila seemed less shopping mall and more parking lot to me, but that may simply have been the road to the airport. A variety of public transportation options, too. Little sidecars attached to taxi-like motorcycles ("tricycles"), open-air SUVs with passengers crowded to the edge, a hammock strung on the back of a pickup truck... the last wasn't exactly public, but seemed like a very good idea.

Last thought: it's love at first flight with Cebu Pacific. When checking in, I had pointed out my pillow (it usually comes up) and how nice it would be to have a row in which to sleep on it. "I'll block one off," said the woman behind the counter, smiling. She really did it, and I stretched out and slept for three solid hours. A bargain for a flat bed.

Speaking of bargains, Singapore's Budget Terminal offers this slogan when you disembark: "Enjoy the experience." The experience was fine. Dozens of cabs. And an immigrations officer who didn't mind that I had filled out my form in green pencil.

Macaroon #4

Yesterday, I lost very profoundly at a game of "Xs" and "Os" at the YBM Teachers Banquet. "The average goldfish lives only two months before being flushed down a toilet," was the statement, and I, for reasons I can't fathom, thought it sounded reasonable, though I did pause to second-guess whether the test-writer had considered goldfish that didn't live in human custody. I should've gone with that second guess. In any case, maybe it's a good thing I don't compete in the Super Quiz anymore.

I'm about to board the least expensive international flight of my life--a $70 fare from Manila to Singapore, on Cebu Pacific. I don't know anything about the airline. Maybe it'll serve sandwiches and be delightful. More likely, I'll pass out on board. My only sleep since yesterday has been on a bus in Seoul this morning and on the cab to Manila's airport a few minutes ago.

Manila is this strange combination, for me at least, of Asia and South America. The language here is enough like Spanish to give me a bit of a headache when it blares on the radio, though that may have been the sleep issue. Neither my cab driver nor I had a watch or a working cell phone, so I spent the whole drive either sleeping or convinced I was running late (the driver had guessed it was 6:30 when it was actually 5:45).

"My hotel's near the giant mall," I said to the principal of the International School of Manila today.

"That doesn't help," he said, "That's all of Manila."

He seemed interested in the Scholar's Cup, which was great--it made this pitstop between Seoul and Singapore very worthwhile. I hope to see a team from Manila in Seoul on May 31.

I passed the Hotel Prince yesterday, where last year's SCUP teams stayed on arriving in Korea (I got evicted due to a room mixup). It was odd to think that we're almost halfway between world competitions. It was odder to think that there'd been a world competition at all. I was a little--distracted--the last time around.

Yesterday's banquet at YBM was inspiring. I'll write more on that later, I hope. Afterward I settled down in the lobby of the hotel where it was held and edited children's workbooks over three cups of coffee and six macaroons. A local band covered American songs; they crooned "even heroes have a right to bleed" around macaroon #4.

The Secretary's Way

Yesterday, Alaina at YBM asked me a question she gleaned from the book she was reading, a Korean business publication called The Secretary's Way. I put it to you: would you prefer to work with someone immensely talented but not entirely loyal, or someone a measure less talented but much more loyal?

Jordan's Furniture Bets Obama will Strike Out

Boston, MA – Jordan’s Furniture has announced a follow-up to its successful Red Sox promotion: any customer who purchases furniture during the month of November will receive a full refund if Barack Obama wins the presidency in 2008.

Other furniture stores have not matched the promotion, though industry sources suggest that IKEA may endorse Al Gore.

The promotion has generated controversy. David Gergen, former presidential advsior and a professor of political leadership at the Kennedy School of Government, warns that, “Massachusetts electors may be swayed to break with the popular vote in their state if they purchased particularly expensive mattresses.”

“We took an insurance policy just in case, just like we did with the Red Sox,” said Jordan’s Furniture owner Eliot Tatelman. “This one cost less.”

Obama has not specified whether he shops at Jordan’s. However, he will be making a previously unscheduled visit to the Jordan’s Furniture factory in Cambodia to discuss worker’s rights and free trade.

In a press statement, the rival Clinton campaign noted that “Senator Clinton shops at a variety of furniture stores, including Jordan’s, and is supportive of most things with which she does not disagree.”

A Headmaster in Malaysia

Once, I wrote a story featuring a character named Malaysia. I don't remember her so well; I think she had something to do with an epidemic raging in New Mexico. I was going through a phase in which I thought I could describe landscapes. I've mostly given up since, but for the sake of argument: a long rim of palm trees, and clumps of tall apartment towers with open-air stairwells. That was my view on the train from Kuala Lumpur Airport to the city center.

A poster in the airport proudly noted that it was voted the best in the world in 2006 and 2005. This year, it took third to Seoul Incheon and Hong Kong. Notably, I started in Seoul this morning and connected in Hong Kong, thus apparently completing the "Top Airport Trifecta." All three are very well-lit, with wide open spaces in which you could fit Air Force One or the entire LAX international terminal.

It was an uneventful journey, unless you count my carry-on tumbling down an escalator into a woman in a veil. (I think she forgave me. I hope so.) On my second flight, I sat next to a Texan who chatted with me industriously before switching his attention to a movie about a haunted hotel room. Where are you from? he asked me at one point, a question my friend Tracy can certify I'm increasingly not very good at answering.

In other developments, DemiDec opened a school in Seoul this week. Yes, it puzzles me too.

This is a good moment to look back at how I ended up in Korea in the first place: one Randy Xu, now in China hedging funds, an agent of chaos who led his Decathlon team to a third place finish in Texas in 2000. Randy had a car accident that led him to need a lawyer that led him to e-mail the Harvard alumni list that led me to e-mail him a reference that led him to recognize my DemiDec connection that led him to work with DemiDec. A few months later he suggested that we go teach in Korea for three weeks as a kind of vacation.

It's been a very interesting three weeks.

And Again

Dante Coffee. Down the street from NTU. The producers of my life are saving money on new sets.

The Streets of Hsinchu

In Taiwan, after a massive day: I woke up Sunday morning in Boston and somehow it's become Tuesday over there. Slept some in the back seat of a cab and on a red-eye flight from Vegas that featured a barking toddler. "Woof!" he cried, over and over, as I tried to edit.

Searched for a shower at Incheon Airport on landing this morning. Helpful flight attendants pointed me toward the basement, in which I discovered a miniature hospital. The receptionist advised me that the neraby sauna was shut down. Couldn't tell if they meant permanently or just until later in the day, but I had a meeting anyway coming up in Seoul proper, and went without.

Now at a hotel, the worse for wear but with reasonable water pressure, called the King Dom. Tomorrow morning, the schools of Hsinchu. For now, I sleep in Hsinchu. I was going to write about the streets of Hsinchu, but I'm too sleepy. They were bright.

Not Knowing Much

"Have you lost a loved one recently?" a close friend asked me today. His father passed away unexpectedly last night.

The answer is that I haven't, not since Sam, and he was my sister's loved one, not my own. I've written on this topic before, but it reminds me again how lucky and unlikely I've been: four living grandparents (knock wood) and not a single friend lost to disease or accident.

One cousin passed away, Benny, in my sophomore year of college. I took the phone call from my mom. It hit me hard, but maybe not for long enough. He drowned in a shower. He and I would play cards a lot when I was small, in a house in Chile with a cavernous dining hall. We'd eat red chicken watching television in the kitchen on nights when my parents and his dad were out on the town.

Benny's death shook my uncle to the core; he hasn't ever been the same. He still smokes out at his son's grave.

I don't know how I would handle a loss like that, or like my friend's, but, given my history, probably not too well. Here's hoping the best for him and his family and that I can help in whatever small ways are possible.

The Iambic Foreclosure

(verses written after watching Henry V and a conversation over rice pudding)

The suburbs perish home by home, the loans
Too large to pay in full; the "owners" moan
And writhe in subprime agony, while banks
Send notes that agitate; a market tanks,
A bubble pops! And there you have it... Kate:
A dismal fate some hedge funds celebrate.

America or Burst

"Sometimes I think my life is like a sitcom," I said to Craig, a few seconds after a large pepper grinder on the stove clattered into me, and eleven hours after we searched the apartment for a pink blanket that turned out to be under his bedspread.

"Daniel," he responded, "We all think your life is like a sitcom."

The other night we played an informal round of "name that tune" with sitcom songs from the 1980s; I instantly recognized the theme from Perfect Strangers. I learned a lot of life lessons from Balki, the sheepherder with a dance of joy who got himself (and his cousin Larry) into one curious fix after another.

As a kid, I was a Star Trek fan foremost, but Star Trek was only silly by accident; I'm often silly on purpose.

A Weight Off My Shoulders

On Friday, I bought a new backpack at Incheon Airport, in Seoul. On a whim, I picked one that was blue. Then I carried it to the Japan Airlines lounge, where I transplanted everything from my black backpack of the last two years in about five minutes. This included all the debris at the bottom; I didn't have time to sort out the chaff before my flight to Tokyo boarded.

(Incidentally, I didn't realize I knew the word "chaff" until I just wrote it down. I've clearly been playing too much Scrabulous.)

I write about it because the experience was remarkably cleansing. Literally, a weight off my shoulders. That black backpack had been lots of places with me: Egypt, China, Korea, Singapore, Boston, half the states in the Union. Some had been good places, but combined they had worn the backpack out. When it was empty, I dropped it in a wastebasket. This probably set off a bomb alert later in the afternoon, though at least I didn't wear a circuitboard around my neck. Then I scooped up the new one, slung it over my shoulder, grinned at how light it was, and hustled to Gate 39.

Averting the Debacle

I write this at an airport, which is to be expected. I must have written a third of these entries in transit between places. Today, though, I'm not flying anywhere at all. I was going to travel to Taiwan, to visit a friend and meet her puppy, but a mixup with Thai Airways left me here at Incheon.

There are worse airports at which to be stranded, including my hometown LAX.

A few months ago, we held the first World Scholar's Cup here in Seoul. I was distracted and sleep-deprived, neither of them an uncommon condition for me. For three days, students from Singapore and the United States filed wearily into this airport on the bottom floor. My expanding cohort and I greeted each new arrival with Haagen Dazs and bus tickets.

It's hard to believe, in retrospect, that we pulled the competition off. I owe a lot to my friends and especially to Chris Yetman, scrimmage coordinator extraordinaire. He brought a computer, calculated the scores, set up the Scholar's Quiz and basically managed everything.

It was, in some ways, the culmination of eighteen months. Scholar's Cup had been a glimmer on a mountainside in January 2006. "Let's make it real," I said to David, in an odd echo of the way DemiDec had begun. The previous day we had held a fake Super Quiz for our students at a camp. (I say "we" but, in fact, David had been asleep or looking for something to eat, which was hard on him given his distaste for anything that can fly or swim. He mostly ate candy bars and Ramen for those three weeks.)

It's true I had envisioned something larger. But any larger than this, and it might have turned from "trial run" to "opening debacle."

We'll see what next year is like. By then, there'll be a new Scholar's Cup site at www.scholarscup.org. My old DemiDec teammate Brent Russo has been wandering Asia recruiting schools, with good results. We may hold the competition in Singapore (though it's more likely to be in South Korea one more time.)

Down to the bottom of my citron tea. Time to face a commute back to Seoul, though I may stay overnight near the airport. My housing with Sasha is generous (it includes unlimited advice) but it's a little warm at night (i.e. stifling) and towels don't make the best blankets in the world.

The Straits of Singapore

Singapore is so pretty when the sun is rising; there's a long strip of park along the waterfront that runs nearly to the airport. I wanted to jump off the cab and stroll through it, maybe set up a picnic and gaze across the straits to what I think may have been Malaysia.

It was a quick trip. I landed yesterday, and today I'm off to Beijing. Yesterday, I met a warm welcome at ACS, the school here competing in Scholar's Cup: another school I might been happy to attend. There's a perpetual student in me, that's for sure.

By the end of my visit, I was probably visibly deteriorating: I become a snowman in May when I haven't slept in a day. I got back to my hotel, stripped off my suit and, scarcely one or two e-mails later, pulled myself into the "business-class" bed.

Then my room phone rang. It felt like no time had passed at all since I shut my eyes. Whoever it was hung up, so I figured it was my 5:30 am wakeup call. I called down to the desk in such a confused state of mind that when they told me it was 10:30, I asked "am or pm?" After hesitating a moment, the person on the other side answered "pm."

There, he must have said to his colleagues, is a guest with jetlag.

Hotel Hawaii

I'm at a hotel in Hawaii with a band playing Hotel California outside, and in Korea I used to stay at the Hawaii Hotel. Life can feel so intricate sometimes.

Cafe Les Verts

Every time I think I've encountered the perfect WiFi cafe, Korea does me one better. I came across Cafe Les Verts a few minutes ago walking from my hotel to--what else--Java City. Oversized square maple tables that don't require mousepads, organic teas and coffees, curvy porcelain cups, a bank of iMacs on a shiny metal counter circling a leafy tree--coupled with perfect lighting, and outlets everywhere, with just enough jazz music to put a bounce in your fingertips. And, of course, the Internet is free, not your usual Korean NESPOT "buy our overpiced card only at the airport 50 miles from Seoul" service.

Secret Agent

The woman in a blue suit looked me (and my pillow) over critically. "I am secret agent for Northwest Airlines," she said.

"A secret agent?"

"Yes."

She proceeded to interrogate me (not very secretly) about my travel plans. "Why do you fly so many airlines?" she asked, at one point. "It is more expensive."

I whispered, "Actually, because it's cheaper."

Before she released me, I had to show her my Scholar's Cup ID Badge and a business card. "You're the president of organization?" She seemed incredulous.

"Yes, president with a pillow," I said.

Later, at immigration, I was asked, "Are you soldier?"

The pillow seems less effective than it used to be as a way of making me look innocent.

Signs Seen in Bangalore

Things are much blunter in India. From my taxi, I see one sign advertising a clinic. Among the things it treats, in bold lettering: “Sexual weakness." Next door, a prim blue building is labeled “Home for the Mentally Retarded.”

Somewhat further down the way, a restaurant offers "Chainese Food"--by which maybe it means it offers orange chicken from Panda Express?

I'm writing this at Cafe Coffee Day, which is sponsored by Microsoft Vista. The menu is shaped like the Windows logo, and the "Vista Coffee" is their classic brew with a "delightful splash" of orange.

It's unrelated, but I should also note that earlier today, a teacher very interested in the Scholar's Cup insisted to me that he was the younger brother of Hare Krishna--and Jesus Christ.

Deutsche Post

I just had breakfast with the managers of DHL's consumer division for Southern India, who happen to be staying in the same guesthouse as me. They were very pleased to hear that DemiDec ships about a thousand boxes a year with DHL.

I didn't mention the lost alpacas of Texas.

Over pancakes, the conversation turned to politics.

"India is a democracy," said Ragu, the older of the two. "Short-term, China will grow faster, because it is military. Government says what to do, people do it. But long-term, India will succeed more. Here, we debate, debate, debate, then in the end, do the best thing."

Laptop Service

I couldn't find a bank that would take my ATM card anywhere within walking distance of my guesthouse here in Bangalore, but I did locate a Chinese restaurant and a Toshiba Authorized Notebook Service Center.

Notes for Future Travel

Notes to self:

1. Always print out the address of your hotel before arriving in an unfamiliar place, particularly if the hotel is a tiny "inn" in Bangalore that no one at the airport has ever heard of.

2. If the hotel is a tiny inn in Bangalore, don't be surprised if they're out of rooms, forgot they were going to pick you up at the airport, have lost your reservation, and proceed to send you to another tiny inn in Bangalore, which they assure you is even nicer but has people sleeping in the hallways.

3. Always carry toilet paper, even if it means carrying fewer alpaca finger puppets.

4. Always bring a towel larger than your hand (and softer than your Lonely Planet.)

5. If there is a bucket placed near a showerhead, be ready for low water pressure. This likelihood is reinforced by signs offering dire warnings such as, "Please save water; it is precious."

6. If the sign at an airport bank advertises, "We buy and sell all currencies," bear in mind before bounding up to them that they may not consider Korean Won to be a currency.

7. You don't really need sheets for sleeping.

Hot and Sour Soup

I've sat here before--about fourteen months ago, on my way home from my first stint in Korea. I'm at a lounge in the Singapore airport, once again drinking hot and sour soup and, this time, writing TOEFL listening questions. (Dean Webb wrote the lectures and conversations on which they're based, which means the depicted professors and students are clever, and a little sassy.)

On that last visit, I had just spent an entire night first wandering downtown Singapore overeating (to recover from three weeks of Korean dorm food) and then catnapping in a public lounge facility. I recorded a "farewell" to my "1% camp" students using a webcam I purchased downstairs--but I have no memory of what I said to them. I probably aimed for profound and achieved melodramatic--or aimed for funny and achieved confused.

Speaking of drama and humor in combination, I've now seen two Korean romantic comedies, When Romance Meets Destiny and Two Hundred Pound Beauty, and I liked both a lot. These Korean films seem to combine the funny and the melancholy in just the right blend to suit me. Maybe that's how I perceive the story of my own life... or maybe they're just good entertainment. It's also true that the subtitles force me to focus on them. I can't multitask, as I do even while watching 24.

Tonight, I'm on my way from Seoul to Bangalore. Earlier I stopped in Bangkok, which had a beautiful and almost empty new airport. I never imagined my first visit to India would be for a three day teaching conference--let alone one that DemiDec is helping to sponsor. I'll be presenting to about two hundred teachers on the Scholar's Cup, which is our new academic competition for Asia that is off to a tough but promising start. I'm hoping that some of them will want to be coaches this coming year.

Meanwhile, next week is the Korean national competition. It remains to be seen how many teams show up.

Leaving Korea on that first occasion last January, I had no idea that I would be back over a dozen times in the little over a year since. I lost track at my fifteenth trip or so. Sooner or later, I'll have visited it more often than my family's home country of Chile.

This latest visit (from Monday until this morning, and resuming next Monday) has been a little harder than most. For one, I'm still, as Tom put it, traveling on "a bad wheel." Healing from knee surgery turns out to be a little more challenging than I imagined. Every so often the knee gives out, or I slip in the rain and yelp. The hardest part is sleeping, because the bruised area contacts the mattress. (In the end, I gave in to an opiate after all.) Second worst is getting out of taxis. Nonetheless, I'm better by the day, and expect to be running through airport terminals again soon. But another reason the trip has been harder is that our first Korean curriculum projects are due next week--and it's always hard to pull together good work in time for a deadline, especially in a whole new field. (In addition to the Scholar's Cup, DemiDec is delving into producing curriculum materials for the TOEFL and other ESL-related areas.)

Nothing has gone exactly as expected since then, from Seoul to Evanston, which may be why I find a familiar (if lukewarm) bowl of hot and sour soup in Changi International Airport kind of comforting. At least it's better than its equivalent at the Kong.

Mishaps

This morning, I had surgery on my right knee, five months after falling (for no particular reason) at an Academic Decathlon camp in Northern California. Since then it's hurt to run and to climb steps, both things I like to do (for example, to catch a flight at the last minute.) The surgeon found, and removed, a centimeter-diameter "rock" jammed in my knee joint.

Naturally, I gave him and the nurses alpacas.

I now have a bottle of Percocet I hope not to take, two crutches I probably won't need to use, at least not at the same time, except when I'm avoiding falling down the stairs, and a pouch of ice that I won't let out of my sight for at least another day. All in all, it's been a very relaxing day, with episodes of 24 sandwiched around mailing out of DemiDec applications. By Sunday I'll be on my way back to Korea.

In fact, my only post-operative mishap involved stepping in a puddle of puppy pee, which isn't uncommon, given that my dad likes to keep a special rug for the puppies to pee on (he claims otherwise, but it is the perfect color, fogettable brown, to hide nearly anything unmentionable.)

Mouthwash

After eating fish and chips, I needed something to make the taste go away. A pickle didn't do it, so I went to my room, where I took a swig of hotel mouthwash.

Except... I misread the label. The mouthwash was shampoo.

Aircraft Downgrade

Behind me, two men are arguing; one, about 60, figured out that the other, about 80, had sat in the wrong row. Says the older one, who has a cane and a dog: "I'll have you know, young man, that I'm a Marine, I fought in World War II, the Chinese Civil War, Korea... but I'm eighty now, I'm a little befuddled."

"Young man," responds the younger older man, "I didn't do as much as you did, but I also served my country."

Meanwhile, everyone in rows 23 and beyond has discovered that their seats are missing. An apologetic flight attendant just announced that a last-minute switch to a smaller aircraft means that all passengers in the last five rows need to disembark and ask for new seat assignemnts. "I think there'll be enough," she concludes.

The passengers in question are fighting to get off.

"That's not my dad, it's my dog," says the older older man, now one row behind me, in response to a question he must not have heard quite clearly.

I can't wait for this one to be over.

Library

I'm pleased to report that the Library in Alexandria has recovered handsomely. There's even free wireless--and Turkish coffee.

The Unlikeliest Alpaca

I met the cutest puppy today. It was tucked in a duffel bug, with only its head sticking out: perky ears and a toothy little grin.

"What kind of puppy is it?" I asked the owner, as I scratched it behind the ears.

She looked at me, slightly exasperated, and said, "Kangaroo."

Professional Geek

I haven't written much in here lately, and I'll try to post an explanation for that soon, but in the meantime, I wanted to add that I've been visiting the Texas Academic Decathlon state competitions this weekend, in Houston and San Antonio, and I feel so lucky: I have a job in which I can study interesting subjects, write footnotes, meet wonderful people and share alpacas with the world.

If you're a Decathlete, or a coach, or anyone else involved in the program, thank you so much for this opportunity.

Man and Elevator

"You're welcome to it," said the man, standing in front of an open elevator door.

I figured he was going up, so boarded, noted that the "L" button (for "Lobby") was already lit, and waited a while. The elevator doors didn't shut.

"It's stuck?"

"Yeah."

"Know where the stairs are?"

He shrugged. I looked around, spotted an exit sign, then found the stairs behind him to his left. They led directly to the lobby's "Cafe by the Lake."

"Stairs work," I said. He declined to come with me, which at the time baffled me--but in retrospect, maybe he was injured.

Severe Thunderstorm

I'd never heard an emergency siren before a few minutes ago--a screeching, awful thing, evocative of my childhood nightmares about Soviet nuclear strikes. "What's that?" I asked my driver.

"It is for severe thunderstorm," he explained. "It is to warn us."

"What should we do?"

"Nothing different," he said, "It is just for knowing." He turned left toward O'Hare, hitting the brakes. I'm in no particular rush because my flight is delayed ninety minutes. "Rain turn highway into parking lot," says my driver. The wipers swish back and forth. Mostly, I want to sleep, and with my pillow here, it's hard to resist.

Writing for the Screen and Stage

Twenty years ago, I had no idea I might like to write for the stage and screen someday. In fact, I spent most of my childhood reading novels voraciously and railing against what I saw as the dangers of television. I'm embarassed to admit I once carried a math textbook with me to a performance of Phantom of the Opera.

But there were signs. Early on I was a fan of The Smurfs, Transformers, even, ah, Rainbow Brite. What kept me glued to these shows from week to week were what I now know are called “story arcs,” or plots that unfold over a long series of episodes. There was one arc in particular, in which the Smurfs went exploring the world on a great ship, that seized my imagination. Later I devotedly watched Star Trek—though I was disappointed in how predictable and self-contained most of the episodes were. I knew Picard could never develop a serious love interest, that what happened in one episode wouldn’t matter in the next.

In college, I didn’t have a television, but I was so impressed by Shakespeare that before long I wrote a faux Shakespearean play about my high school Academic Decathlon team. (Imitation is finest flattery, etc.) By my senior year, I was trying to write the lyrics for a musical set in England during the Industrial Revolution. I collaborated with a composer with whom I completed two songs; we both dreamed of writing the soundtracks for Disney movies. Later I contributed (albeit minimally) to the book for a student-authored opera on the voyage of Magellan. In a persuasive technology lab, I worked with an engineer to script the lines and personality for a prototype singing doll, Hap the Happy Bear, that would persuade children to eat more McDonald’s (I’m still uneasy about it.) Later, I created storyboards for new product ideas at CASIO. And not long ago, an Internet communications start-up, Yackpack, asked me to create monsters—in theory, as entertaining characters to converse with users of their service. (Shamefully, I never delivered them, even though I tried inventing them to the soundtrack of Avenue Q.)

In all these instances, I’ve treasured the opportunity to collaborate with others; I like to believe that my imagination, whatever its other shortcomings, has very low walls. All along I continued to think of myself as a writer of prose fiction at heart. I enrolled in short story workshops, and I enjoyed the experience very much. But my stories gradually grew more focused on exchanges of dialogue than on long passages of description and narrative. I just don’t visualize scenes that way, in strings of sentences. And once I was out of college, I began to consume—or, more aptly, gorge myself on—series that I found brilliant and entertaining: shows such as Buffy the Vampire Slayer (which I had, sadly, resisted in college because of its silly name), Angel, Six Feet Under, Firefly, and, more recently, The West Wing and 24. I am in awe of those producers and writers who successfully balance an evolving storyline and complex cast of characters with the need to draw in new viewers—to keep the story from descending into self-referential soap while also maintaining dramatic momentum from episode to episode.

In my final year at the Kennedy School of Government, I was blessed with an instructor who didn’t mind my taking a different approach than the traditional policy memo. Among other things, I wrote a new chapter to the bible, in which Moses was tried for war crimes, and a dialogue between Lao Tzu and Lincoln in which they contested the nature of good leadership. In writing them—and in watching the dialogue performed—I realized again how much I enjoyed entertaining others in slightly unconventional ways.

I still don’t know exactly in what form I’ll ultimately channel all this. But I've had the good fortune of a career thus far that, while motley at best, affords me the freedom to pursue old dreams in new guises. So, today, I leave to Chicago, in said pursuit. I'm not sure what I'll find there. I figure it's time to pack a coat and see what happens next.

Teatime

This afternoon I needed tea. I was on the verge of falling asleep. Unfortunately, most of the accidents in my life involve me on the verge of falling asleep... otherwise I wouldn't have hit an invisible car earlier this summer, or dropped my cell phone in a toilet two weeks ago. So I astutely filled an electric tea pot with water, placed it on the stove, then lit the stove and strolled away.

It didn't take too long to evacuate the apartment.

An RMB Saved is an...

ATM machines are always polite, asking if you mind extra fees and never hesitating to take no for an answer, but the ones here in Shanghai are extra thoughtful. They say, "Please take cash and advice."

My advise, sadly, looked a lot like a receipt, but I couldn't tell for sure: it was in Chinese.

Tonight I walked back to my "magnificent" hotel through People's Square. There were four benches enclosing a tree at the southeast corner. On one, a young couple kissed desperately. On the bench next to theirs, a prone beggar perspired in the heat.

My hotel room has no chair, only a stool. The last hotel room I was in that had no chair was in Corpus Christi. Since I'm staying here for a few days, I decided to liberate a chair from the hotel restaurant. I'd have made it, too, if the elevator hadn't taken so long to reach the third floor that a waitress spotted me. I was duly reprimaned.

Later I decided to go by the book and asked the front desk for a chair. Smiles and nods all around. When I got back later in the day, they had delivered a second stool.

Now, if you mount two stools together and stick a pillow between them, you do sort of get a chair. And the air conditioning works. Also, there's a street full of yummy food stalls nearby--today I ate a fresh egg wrap for 2 RMB, or about 25 cents. So I'm not complaining.

Speaking of food, though, I had the best salad of my life (seriously) at a place called the Coffee Beanery near one of the schools I visited this morning, in Pudong. (The Coffee Beanery shouldn't be mistaken for the Coffee Bean, which also operates stores here in Shanghai.) Their so-called "Hawaiian Salad" was a Caesar plus pineapple, fresh chicken bits, and crunchy nuts. It was weird to eat something knowing that any salad I ate in the future would either be the best salad of my life or not as good as this one.

Alas, I doubt we'll be seeing any Coffee Beaneries opening up in California, unless they change their name--preferably to something other than the Tea Leafery.

Throughout the day, I've been editing Dean Webb's "Rest of Us" guide to Chinese history; if at any point the PRC confiscates my computer and finds the file, I might end up writing the sequel to One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich instead.