Alexander's

Sleeping on the futon

nospam@example.com (Alexander Paulsen) — Mon, 08 Jul 2013 15:07:00 +0000

The apartment in Tokyo my company provides is really nice. It's a new building, we have a huge 72 square meter flat with nice hardwood floors and a garden.

Very unlike my dormitory during my study in Japan, this flat really is build for average Japanese families.

The most notable things would probably be:

A six square meter "children's room"
A toilet that requires you to study a user manual
An intercom system with an user interface so bad, that even guys that can read Japanese (much better than I) sometimes end up accidentally calling the police (panic button) instead of opening the door
I don’t have a bed -- just a simple Japanese futon that can be rolled out at night, or stowed away during the day.

I really like the flat, I just wish they also had tatami mats[^1] in the sleeping quarters.

They are just so much nicer -- slightly uneven, springy and much softer.

Much Softer -- if there are only four centimeters of futon between your back and the hardwood floor you can really appreciate the added softness of tatami.

For now I can still walk and stand upright, but I have another two months in Japan ahead of me.

[^1]: Flooring mat made of rice straw. Originally for the nobility to sleep or sit on.

The washing machine

nospam@example.com (Alexander Paulsen) — Fri, 07 Dec 2012 16:45:57 +0000

As an avid reader of my blog you already know that I got married recently.[^1]

Please Alex make sure we have a washing machine in our new flat. I'm not sure my hands could take washing our clothes per hand.

Good thing we still had a spare washing machine in Kärnten that just needed a tiny bit of work. So next time I went home my father and I cracked the darn thing open, just to find out that the main ball bearing had disintegrated. A piece had broken off and most of the balls were missing. Not only is such a specialized ball bearing quite expensive, we were also missing the tools to remove the remains of the old one in the first place.

So I had to buy a new washing machine.

What sounded like an easy task turned out to be pure horror. Every washing machine I looked at had the same feature set and all the programs I'd ever use. They were all super energy efficient, silent, intelligent and -- best of all -- they would get my clothes clean.

So I decided to buy a special magazine with tests and comparisons of washing machines -- great idea -- or so I thought until I checked the test results:

Great for cleaning clothes, but the purging could be better.

For basically every machine in the test.

So why is one machine 300 Euro and one that is just as good costs 1200 Euro?

I sit in a well air conditioned room in front of a computer all day long. Unless I spill food on my necktie my clothes don't get dirty at all.[^2] Even a crappy washing machine would probably be more than enough for me.

In the end I did exactly what companies want me to do. I got a middle priced machine, since the cheap ones have to be crappy and inferior somehow.

I now use exactly two programs and my clothes get clean.

I'm satisfied, but I really can't stop wondering how cool a machine for twice the price would have been.

[^1]: Recently as in almost a year ago - when this blogpost was originally written [^2]: Ok they get dirty if I run through a field or climb a tree to recover my airplanes, but that's not the point here

Chinese Airport Internet

nospam@example.com (Alexander Paulsen) — Thu, 29 Nov 2012 22:43:22 +0000

Like so many other airports Beijing airport has free WiFi internet access.

I found this a bit surprising, since China has quite restrictive internet rules. Generally the government is not satisfied by simply blocking some sites. They want to make sure that they can track who is doing what.

That’s why they need identification.

Too bad that at the time of our transfer -- way after midnight -- there were very few airport personnel working anymore. But like a gentle mother the Chinese authorities did even think of this. They provide these -- only slightly suspicious looking -- machines that promise the great wonder of instant internet access for a simple scan of one's passport.

After a week of roaming through the emerald green mountains of Taiwan -- in absence of my daily internet-fix[^1] -- there was no question. Without a moments hesitation I pushed my passport deep into the slit for the documents, pushed the onscreen button and listened to the sound of an old scanner doing its work.

A popup dialog, explaining in Chinese that the machine had just saved a 4MB file of my passport, left a slight feeling of identity theft in my mouth. This feeling grew even stronger when I noticed that step 3 -- get the internet access code -- was not working.

The only working steps were:

choose language and
scan the passport
there is no (working) step 3

Not willing to give up that easily I decided to try again -- same result. Also switching to another language didn't help at all.

Maybe, I thought, it’s because I still have an old passport that sometimes makes problems when machine reading it.

Sadly no one in my family was willing to borrow me their passport to repeat this surely harmless experiment.

This blogpost was written on my way home from our honeymoon in Taiwan. So it's a bit dated already.

[^1]: For some strange reason Ting was really against me spending half the time in front of the computer

Studying Japanese - Again

nospam@example.com (Alexander Paulsen) — Fri, 23 Nov 2012 23:37:53 +0000

Yea I know I know. My Japanese is sublime. Every one of my japanese friends tells me how well I can speak and how they can somehow understand almost everything that I try to say.

And then I got a job offer:

So do you think you can talk to the boss of a japanese company in japanese?

Yes I can

Well um ... on second thought I can but I'm not sure I should. It's true by now I hardly ever insult Ting when talking to her in japanese, but talking to an important guy from a huge japanese company is a lot more challenging.

What impossible! Your Japanese grammar is stuck on the level of a beginner!

This from the girl that told me how well my japanese already is just a few days prior. So I needed a bootcamp from beginner to talk-to-the-boss-level in just a few short days.

In Austria it takes the average student of japanese about 3-4 years of hard work to be able to read the newspaper in Japanese -- but then I guess the average student in Austria does not have a girlfriend who made it into the most elite university in Japan.

I scanned 3 books already
I can't possibly learn 3 books in a month or two![^1]
Well, you are going to have a good study schedule -- I'll tell you about it tonight

Maybe she misunderstood. I'm not a Chinese student. I can't stand up at 6:00 and work till 24:00 with only three fifteen minute breaks for food and still remember the things I learned during the day.[^2]

You want to get progress really quickly so let's work on it

Oh well I guess a chapter per day is manageable -- I just wish there were other students, so I could take a break from time to time.

This post is a bit older. I just stumbled across it while looking through my not yet published posts and felt like sharing it.

[^1]: If you study japanese full time in Austria you work through a single book every six months. [^2]: Actually now that I'm a consultant this almost feels like a normal workday.

The Model Plane

nospam@example.com (Alexander Paulsen) — Sun, 19 Feb 2012 20:57:09 +0000

I got my first model plane when I was about twelve. I scrapped together all my pocket money and got a really nice radio controlled glider. It took me weeks to assemble and then, just before the maiden flight, Georg accidentally sat down on it -- the plane was destroyed before it ever flew.

Years later I finally worked up the courage and I decided to try my luck again and after working all summer I had enough money to buy the top of the line electro helicopter.

It was beautiful! Black body with white rotors.

The whole family gathered in front of the house, I let it hoover right before my eyes -- a moment of pure bliss -- which ended abruptly when a gust pushed it into a nearby tree trunk.

It went off like a splinter bomb.

For weeks my father was still picking up broken helicopter parts while mowing the lawn.

So when I decided that it was time to unleash my inner ace pilot again, I had a plan.

Of course I bought the plane that I wanted to fly, but I'm a married man now and therefore much more responsible. So I also got a super cheap one. You know just to get back into the hobby again.

The first flight was a full success. I was using my environment to it's full extent -- a totally random three dimensional walk through the park. The innocent bystanders were like frozen puppets staring wide eyed at the chaotic wonder that was zooming above their heads.

When I finally crash-landed -- after thirty long seconds -- I felt spent -- like a fighter pilot after a hard battle.

For my second flight I shot up twenty meters, turned around, narrowly avoided the ground and ended up in the tree right behind me -- pure adrenalin.

The third flight was probably the best and longest. Like before I had absolutely no control over the plane whatsoever, but managed to avoid hitting any of the spectators for at least 45 seconds -- until I landed in a tree top, from which the plane was totally unrecoverable.

I guess Christof put it best when he said:

Ali, once you manage to bring one back in one piece you will know how to fly.

Legally single

nospam@example.com (Alexander Paulsen) — Sun, 12 Feb 2012 22:07:10 +0000

As some of you might know I'm getting married this December[^1] -- in Taiwan.

The great thing about getting married in a foreign country is that you get to fully appreciate the bureaucratic hurdles and quirks of both countries.

For example to get my single certificate[^2] I just had to go to some Austrian government office and ask for it, but since I want to use it in a foreign country, I needed to verify my government issued document. Verification in this case means that I had to pay 33,90 Euro to the very same office that just gave me the document, just so they put one more stamp on it and make it more official.

Great so now that there is a government issued stamp on this government issued document it's really official -- right?

No sadly not. Only if you have collected enough stamps -- four in my case -- will it magically become valid and legal.

But let's be honest -- these days the Austrian government gives these legalized papers to almost everyone,[^3] so it's better to check once more. That's where the Taiwanese consulate will help you.

So after finally holding my magically verified, translated (also verified) single certificate in hands, I asked at the Taiwanese consulate if there are any other documents I need.

I have no idea -- maybe the birth certificate[^4] -- yes some people need that!

[^1]: I have quite a backlog of blog posts [^2]: Some sheet of paper to testify that not yet married [^3]: who can pay for the stamps [^4]: In Taiwan they don't even have birth certificates!

The Safety Razor

nospam@example.com (Alexander Paulsen) — Wed, 08 Feb 2012 17:11:25 +0000

The charger for my electric shaver was missing!

It was a Saturday evening and I'd spent it turning my flat upside down -- still there was no trace of the charger. Even worse, no shop had a suitable one in stock.[^1]

Monday morning 5:45 a driver would be waiting to pick me up and bring me to the airport, so I could spend another week working in a far away country -- without a working shaver.

Sure many people think that a three day stubble is really sexy, but sadly my boss is not amongst them -- either that or he does not want us to be sexy.

So it seemed like the only viable solution was to get a safety razor[^2] and scrap the beard off my face -- the old fashioned way.

I guess I lost more blood than beard, but in the end all my stubbles were hidden under a thick layer of dried blood.

The only good thing in situations like this is that Ting will always listen to my problems and is there to comfort and help me when I have troubles.

I found your charger online. Oh and it's so funny how the japanese housewives complain how stupid their husbands are to loose such a big thing -- by the way, how did you loose yours?

[^1]: Not very surprising, since my shaver isn't even sold in Austria. [^2]: I wonder why they are called safety razor, when in reality they should be called skin remover.

Knee Problems

nospam@example.com (Alexander Paulsen) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 17:07:56 +0000

Rapidly approaching my forties, it was only a matter of time until my first age related injury happened and sure as the sun rises in the morning, I managed to hurt my knee while stepping down from a chair.[^1]

Having been to a doctor at least once per year, I know that they will find and subsequently try to solve problems I didn't even know of. So my decision was clear: stay away from that most suspicious place they call hospital -- at all costs!

But after 2-3 weeks of limping around with a supremely painful knee I finally broke down and went to see a demi-god in white.

Plica mediopatellaris dext., c.s.i.

After that bit of Black Speech[^2] he told me in no uncertain terms that I need an x-ray, an MRI and probably an operation afterwards.[^3]

My mother on the other hand put a bottle of Kwizda's Restitutions Fluid on my bedside table and told me to rub my knee with it.

This stuff is designed to wash horses! I'm not saying it's bad[^4] -- it's just a little strange to (externally) use medicine designed for animals.

I'm not yet sure what's worse.

The "real" doctor who shot me with high energy rays (proven to cause cancer), then wants to push me into a giant tube and spin flip my protons to finally cut me open and stir around in my body, or my loving mother who seems to think that I'm a horse in need of a good washing.

This post has been lingering in my draft folder for some time now, but I was too busy to post it before. My knee is fine and I didn't need an operation

[^1]: Something a little less cliche would have been fine too. [^2]: Just compare it to Uglúk u bagronk sha pushdug Saruman-glob búbhosh skai! [^3]: See this is what I was talking about before! [^4]: Although the smell could probably kill a horse and revive it again afterwards

The Tailor and the Suit

nospam@example.com (Alexander Paulsen) — Tue, 01 Nov 2011 07:15:18 +0000

I need the suit by Monday evening

I’ve lost weight and the trousers were a bit on the short side to start with, so my suit had to be changed.

Sure if you come by on Monday between four and six in the afternoon it will be ready.

So on Monday I left work extra early and a quarter to six I was standing before the tailor. Actually that’s not true. I was not standing in front of the tailor. I was standing in front of the closed shop doors of the tailor -- looking at a totally dark and deserted shop window with my suit locked inside.

Tuesday was a holiday and on Wednesday I need to leave around 6:00am to catch my plane. There was no chance I’d get the suite in time -- and of course I didn’t have a spare suit with me.

After a bit of swearing into my nonexistent beard I decide to call my boss.

Just what kind of experiment am I looking forward too?

Well ...

The only suit I could borrow in Vienna was my brother’s. Not only is he much stronger than I am, it’s also a very fashionable evening suit he bought for going to proms.[^1] Definitely not as bad as some of my hats from Japan, but still not something appropriate for work.

There had to be another solution.

Hey Gernot can I borrow your suit? Sure when do you need it?
The train takes just over 3 hours, so I can be at your place in about four.

One of my new colleges at work told me that my small hand luggage compatible trolley would become my second flat and it’s true. By now only my laptop is an even closer companion.

[^1]: apparently you don’t need suits for work if you try to catch drug dealers for a living.

The long way to the airport

nospam@example.com (Alexander Paulsen) — Sun, 30 Oct 2011 18:07:02 +0000

06:10 -- after a final look at my watch I decide it is time to call the limo driver -- who was supposed to pick me up.

Good morning Mr. Paulsen
Good morning
5:55 right?
Yes and I've been waiting for the last 15 minutes
Please let me check with the driver. I’ll call you back right away

6:20

Mr. Paulsen, I'm terribly sorry, but could you please take a normal taxi to the airport -- there was a slight problem

Sure my plane starts boarding at 6:40, but I guess if I beg the normal taxi driver to go faster it might still work.

6:25

Lucky me I get a taxi driver that was doing limo service for consultants before. Incidentally he became a normal taxi driver because limo service was too stressful for him.

I'm sorry to ask you, but could you please write the bill on your own? It's hard to drive through the city at break-neck-speeds and still fill out that form.

Sure whatever you say. Just get me to the airport fast and alive.

I hit the road running -- all the way to the security checkpoint.[^1]

I'm nervous, sweaty and the line at the security check is quite long.

Sir is this your bag?
Yes
Please step out of the line

Really? Today?

Turns out that my deodorant is not above the maximum size for liquids. Also my shoes are clean, so apparently I didn’t step in any bombs on my way to the airport.

Finally they let me go.

I grab my laptop bag, which of course is still open from the security check. About a hundred pages of documentation rain over the security counter.

Smile - just smile.

At the gate my coworkers greet me with smiles.

Now you have a new benchmark and can sleep at least 20 minutes longer.

[^1]: Now I know why some of my coworkers run every night after work.

hotel guests

nospam@example.com (Alexander Paulsen) — Tue, 11 Oct 2011 21:50:05 +0000

Yesterday, after a hard and tiring day at work, I came home quite late. So when I held my hotel key against the pad the only thing I wanted was some food and my bed.

The pad lit up, a satisfying buzz filled the air and my door opened with a soft klicking sound. I dropped my bag right next to the one already lying on the floor, switched on the light and turned to the bathroom.

Already taken!

I don’t mind sleeping in a hotel, but I don’t like the thin walls. When I can hear the neighbors having sex it gives the whole flat a feeling of a cheap run down motel -- just like the ones you see in the American movies.

But then I turn back and notice there was a big hairy guy lying on my bed -- naked.

I’m not homophobe or anything, but I really don’t like sharing my bed -- especially not with someone or something that has more body hair than I do!

I stumbled back down and tell my colleagues that were still up -- working even later than I did.

Yes that happens. It is worse if you are the one sleeping and someone lies down in your bed. It can be a real trauma -- a shock for life.

I guess from now on I’ll have to bring some wedge to make sure I’m the only one sleeping in my room at night.

Traveling for work

nospam@example.com (Alexander Paulsen) — Thu, 06 Oct 2011 21:38:02 +0000

The flight is booked out. You will have to take a later one and then come to the company on your own.

Maybe not the best start of a new work week, but at least I get to sleep in a bit.

Vienna airport really is nice. Hardly any queues and a lot of bored security personnel. I only have carryon luggage and not a single metal part on my clothes, so there really should not be any holdups -- or so I thought.

Sir could you please step over here.
Why? The security thing didn’t even ring!
Please just step over here.

First I was groped by some ham fisted security guard. Then my shoes got an extra careful inspection.[^1] Finally the baggage checker greeted me with a smile.

Apparently my hand cream had a volume of 150ml -- when I bought it. Of course the fact that only about 30ml were left, was irrelevant. After all it's about as likely that I build a bomb from 30ml of hand cream as it is from 150ml. Also the disappointment that there was nothing in my shoes or my suite or my bag might have been too much for the bored security personnel.

Now I know why it’s called “business class”. Inside the plane I was surrounded by elderly gentlemen working on laptops. More room to work and fewer cute girls to chat with.

So I fished out some paper, opened my pen and immediately understood what’s so great about my ball pens -- the super smooth flow of the ink. I guess in the USA there would have to be a remark on the pen.[^2]

Please do not use in reduced pressure environment

When I finally arrived in Stuttgart I just wanted to clean up and wash my hands.

Is anyone surprised if I tell you that the toilets were broken?

I start to understand why people are not so happy to travel for work.

[^1]: too bad I washed my feet just an hour earlier [^2]: right after "Please don't stab your brother in the eye with this thing (even though he might deserve it)

Fluent Japanese

nospam@example.com (Alexander Paulsen) — Tue, 20 Sep 2011 07:34:13 +0000

The interviewer smiled at me

In your CV you wrote you speak fluent Japanese.
Yes, but I still make grammar mistakes and sometimes I need to use English words.
So it's not good enough to talk to the boss of a company?

Honestly Japanese can be a bit tricky -- Especially the really polite Japanese you are required to use wen talking with a big boss of a company.

Take for example:

時園はいつもすぐ変死してくれる[^2]

A small and innocent mistake and suddenly instead of remarking on my friends fast reply to my mail, I prophesied his imminent, unnatural and violent death.

No I don't think my Japanese is good enough to talk to the boss of a big company.

Don't misunderstand me, my Japanese is good. The days when I went on a 合コン[^3] and my friends had to translate my japanese to something the girls could understand are long gone by.

Now I write japanese mails, watch japanese films and discuss the food with the waiter in japanese. Last time I was in Japan a few strangers invited me for a drink and I bantered with them for some time.

Yes I am fluent.

But fluent is a long way from business level.

No I'm sorry it's definitely not good enough to talk to the boss of a company.

And yet he still seemed pleased to hear an honest answer.

[^1]: After all I wrote fluent on my CV when I applied for the new job [^2]: Tokizono is always dying a really fast unnatural/violent death [^3]: a special blind group date

The almost new Printer

nospam@example.com (Alexander Paulsen) — Wed, 07 Sep 2011 21:56:17 +0000

I want a Polaroid PoGo printer.[^1]

It's a bit hard to get in Austria, but recently I found a great deal from an Amazon seller -- with 98% positive ratings -- so I placed my order at once.

When my long awaited parcel finally arrived the package inside was dirty and already opened. The printer was non functional and to top it off they shipped it with an english plug.

I wrote a searing review and sent the parcel back the very next day.

It was not until several days later that the lust for this printer overcame me again.

So I decided to reorder the printer -- from the same shop -- after all everyone deserves a second chance.

When it arrived I was overjoyed -- until I opened the parcel.

The packing was already opened, the printer was dirty and had an english plug. It seemed like only the scratches on the printer were different.

What were they doing? Sending all their returns out to other customers in hopes that some would just keep them?

Fuming I went online to really bust this seller's behind, only to notice that my last rating was removed.

Amazon takes the blame and you can't downrate anyone[^2]

Turns out that I'm far from the only one who's rating got invalidated. Many people are complaining about used, dirty and damaged items. They just don't show up in the statistics.

Amazon removes most of the bad ratings![^3]

I wish I could say this was definitely the last time I ordered something from Amazon, but next time they have a nice product for cheap I'll just click that damn "buy" button again -- After all they have a great return policy.

[^1]: or a Dell Wasabi I really don't care [^2]: this is a liberal translation from the German original [^3]: the text is still there, but the rating is not reflected in the statistic

Paper Notebook

nospam@example.com (Alexander Paulsen) — Sun, 07 Aug 2011 16:57:13 +0000

Computers are great!

Searching through a database of well tagged photos is a joy. Amongst my several hundred GB of photos I can usually find the one I'm looking for in a few seconds.

E-books are wonderful. No wasted space, accessible everywhere and easy annotations that don't ruin the book.

In contrast paper documents are not easily searchable, don't support tags and need an antiquated folder structure.

Why would I even think of going analog again?[^1]

For one the enjoyment of flipping through a photo album is lightyears ahead of viewing the very same photos on a monitor.

The smell, the texture, the rustling sound while turning the pages of a well used, hand written travel journal -- I can even enjoy the slight indentation marks ball pens leave on the pages.

That's why I want to start a handwritten paper journal!

A journal with a heavy leather cover, tiny doodles, ink blotches and real pictures. Something that I can use with all my senses. Something filled with small imperfections. Something to enjoy slowly. Something just for myself.

Not to replace my digital world, but to add a new dimension.

Every scratch, every stain and every rip would make it better -- more personal.

But instead of sitting down and starting to write I keep worrying about editing, encryption, layout, expandability and spelling. After all paper seems so inflexible.

How do you start to write a journal without wanting to rip out every other page? If you have any idea please tell me -- either in the comments or via e-mail.

I really want to write a paper journal and I don't know how.

[^1]: I believe I'm at a point where my digital data finally is more secure than physical one, so data security is not an argument