Overplayed

Last week, Alrica and I were playing a game. It was from the archives of the NY Times Connections game. You have sixteen words and you have to group them into four categories of four. Four of the words were Donkey, Doolittle, Axel, and Akeem. I realized those were all Eddie Murphy roles. Alrica, who never remembers the names of characters in movies unless they are basically the title character, couldn't remember Axel. So we discussed Beverly Hills Cop.

A couple days after that we decided to rewatch Beverly Hills Cop as each of us hadn't seen it since the 80s, when it came out. The main musical theme in that move is the song Axel F which was written for the movie and named for Murphy's character, Axel Foley. I like the song Axel F. But I have to say, after rewatching that movie I was thinking, "Couldn't they have hired a composer to write one or two other instrumental pieces for different moments in the film?" I mean, unless we were listening to a pop song, the background music was almost always Axel F or maybe once it was a toned down more serious version of Axel F.

Additionally, I remembered that movie being a lot funnier than I found it now. Of course, I was a lot teenagier when I saw it back then, so that could account for the change in the perceived level of humor.

This past Monday, July 20, was Independence Day. Of course, I don't mean in the United States. I mean here in Colombia, July 20 is Independence Day. On Monday itself, things were generally quiet. Independence Day seems to be a time to spend with your family, not in raucous celebrations. But in the week leading up to Independence Day, there was plenty of sound and fury (metaphoric fury.)

Several times during the week, we heard the thundering of drums. They were a bit distant, but as they grew closer we could make out brass instruments. Then as the procession of sound got even closer, we could hear woodwinds.

Parade view from on high

It was a parade. Each time the parade happened, it got bigger. But all three parades (which we could see from our balcony once they got to the street a block from our place) involved bands which were heavy on percussion. The third parade, on Sunday, the day before Independence Day, was the largest. Several bands, different community groups, and members of the military marched through the streets. And through it all, I could only discern two different songs. One of them, I didn't recognize. Perhaps it was the Colombian National Anthem. But the other was The Ants Go Marching One by One (hurrah, hurrah.)

It included horses! Unless that was just coincidence that a bunch of horsemen were riding by at the same time and on the same route as the parade.

I thought that was a strange choice of song. So I looked it up. The tune The Ants Go Marching One by One (hurrah, hurrah) is actually the tune from When Johnny Comes Marching Home Again (also hurrah, hurrah.) That's a song about welcoming back soldiers who are returning home from a war. That makes a bit more sense for an Independence Day parade than a song for children about ants. But this was entirely instrumental, so in my head there were lyrics about ants, shoe-tying, and closing portals such as doors and gates.

On a separate note, I did one of my walking explorations. I saw a man on a unicycle juggling blades in front of traffic as they waited at a red light. I went to what I thought was a park (because it was green on the map) and discovered was a cemetery. That cemetary has the grave of Pablo Escobar, the famous drug cartel leader who is known for corruption and importing hippopotami. I was unable to get a good picture of his grave though because a tour group was visiting.

I wonder what his income per red light cycle is

Ugh! Now I have the song about the ants stuck in my head! Well, if it gets too annoying I will try to wipe it from my mind by humming Axel F.

The Chocolate Olympian

Some things are universal. Okay, that's an overstatement. They are global. They are seen everywhere in the world. You find Coca-Cola everywhere. You can see football (soccer) being played by kids everywhere. Toyota cars are on the roads in every country. And those Toyota cars stop at red octagonal stop signs. (Though in many places, using a stop sign of any sort is a last resort. But when they do, it is red and eight-sided.)

But some of the many things that have spread wide and far haven't conquered the entire world. They are nearly global, maybe globalesque. Think of the metric system. In most countries if I were to say it were seventy degrees outside, I would be dismissed as a madman. (Well, dismissed as an American.)

One product we have found all over the world, but we had never experienced in the United States is Milo.

With way more sugar than you need, says so on the bag!

Milo is a chocolate powder to be mixed in water or milk (much creamier in milk, of course). It was developed by Nestlé to deliver balanced nutrition that kids would love to ingest. It has vitamins and mineral salts and proteins. It was developed in Australia and first introduced there in 1934. Let's just say, it was popular.

The name comes from Milo of Croton, renowned for his massive strength. He was an athlete in Greece (from the city of Croton) who lived in the 6th century BCE. His strength was legendary, comparisons were often made to Hercules. Though a key difference is that Hercules is mythological, whereas Milo is historical. Several historians of the time wrote about him.

Milo was famous as a wrestler. He won the boy's wrestling competition at the 60th Olympics held in ancient Greece. Then eight years later he won men's wrestling. He did so four more times over the next four Olympics. Milo was in his forties when he won at the 66th Olympics.

Though Milo was historical, there are still many legendary stories about him. In particular, the story of his death is questionably apocryphal. Milo loved to show off how strong he was. According to the legend, one day while traveling in the country, he came across a villager who was trying to split a tree stump using wedges and a hammer. Milo asked if he could try to pull it apart with his bare hands. The villager readily agreed and then went off to get them some food.

At this juncture, Milo inserted his fingers into the crack the villager had made. As he struggled and pulled, the wedges came out and the stump closed around the fingers of both of Milo's hands. He couldn't pull them out. It was while Milo was so incommoded that some sort of wild animal or animals came upon him. (In some stories it is a pack of wolves, in others it is a single lion.) Being unable to defend himself, Milo was killed and partially eaten.

But getting back to Milo (the drink, not the wrestler), it has spread across Oceania, Asia, Africa, and South America but never really caught on too much in North America or Europe. In the USA, Nestlé developed a similar, though not identical product they called Quik. They weren't so concerned about filling it with nutrients, just in making it delicious. The goal was to get kids to drink more milk. It was released in 1948. This is 14 years after the launch of Milo. Why didn't Nestlé just bring Milo over? I have no idea.

In 1950, Quik was introduced in Europe, but they called it Nesquik there. In 1999, they changed the name to Nesquik everywhere it was sold.

The two products have some key differences, like what minerals and vitamins are or are not included. But there is a textural difference too. Nesquik dissolves completely, leaving you with a fully liquid chocolate milk. Milo always has undissolved flakes which add some texture and crunch. That's considered a positive feature in the more Milo obsessed parts of the world. One popular variant of the drink, called either Milo Dinosaur or Milo Volcano, is to make Milo and then heap a big pile of the undissolved powder in a cone on top of it and enjoy it that way.

Perhaps the most important distinction is where you can get Milo versus where you can get Nesquik. Both are available at grocery stores for you to make at home. But Milo is a popular drink served in many restaurants. You can order Hot Milo or Iced Milo. (Milo is always made hot so the powder will mostly dissolve. It can then be iced to be served cold.)

While Milo is found in some many places, and the name is always Milo, the pronunciation varies. In Australia, where it began, it is pronounced MY-low, much like how an English speaker would pronounce the name Milo. In South America it is pronounced MEE-low, because the letter i would be pronounced ee. In East Asia is it mee-LOW with the stress on the second syllable. And the LOW is held out, sort of saying mee-LOOOW.

I learned this when I was trying to order it once in Cambodia. I did eventually get what I wanted, but it was the vendor at the drink stand who educated me as to the the correct way to pronounce the beverage name.

Recognizing that I have probably already tried the patience of my readers going on this long about a chocolate beverage, let me assuage your patience with pictures of pretty flowers I saw here in Colombia today.

Did it work? Did the assuagement work? Or are you now thirsting for a refreshing Iced Milo. Just be careful not to get your fingers caught inside. That's when the wolves and the lions come.

Rock, Stock, and Burro

We took a trip yesterday out of Medellín. We headed east and visited several sites. We got to see a view atop a rock, a decorated block, a dock, livestock, and a squawking, walking flock.

Can you say "sore knees?"

Our tour took us to La Piedra. This literally means "The Rock" or "The Stone". La Piedra is an inselberg. That means an isolated rock hill or small mountain. This particular inselberg was formed around 65 million years ago in a volcanic eruption. It is mostly hard granite and it has resisted erosion better than the surrounding landscape, so it sticks up all alone. It is also called El Peñon de Guatapé. Guatapé is the municipality it is found in.

One of the views from the top

The indigenous people of this part of Colombia, the Tahamí, worshipped the rock. Whether or not any of them ever climbed it is not recorded in history. The first official ascent to the top of the rock was in 1954. It took three men five days to do it. One of those men, Luis Eduardo Villegas López, saw the view from the top and had an idea. He bought the land that contained the rock and the nearby area from the local farmers. The farmers were glad to get some money for it. It was useless for farming.

Another view from the top

Villegas López then built two sets of stairs into a crack that goes up one side of the rock. He opened it up to tourism, and it worked. The Villegas family still owns the land and makes their living off of tourism.

Some islands are connected by bridges, but not most

Alrica sensibly decided to remain in the restaurants and tourism spots at the base. My daughter and I have less sense. We paid for the right to climb 708 stairs up to the top. We were rewarded with spectacular views of the surrounding lake, the dam, and the mountains that surround the area. We were also rewarded with accelerated heart rates and jelly legs.

More of those disconnected islands

The lake is pretty interesting. It isn't a natural lake, but was formed when the Colombian government had an idea. (Having an idea is a bit of a running theme here.) They decided to build a hydroelectric dam. But there was a town beside the river, Guatapé. The government made everyone in the town move two kilometers upstream. They gave displaced families a house, or if you were a widow or single, you got money. The locals were furious. They were in the flat area where they could best grow their big crop, the tomato. While they weren't moved far, it still meant giving up the best land.

Zocalo of a stubborn donkey, probably how the citizens felt

The lake stretches many kilometers. In the area near La Piedra, it forms islands, pockets of land that were hills before it was all flooded. Today, those islands are luxury locations and places for the very wealthy to build homes. I can see the appeal. Not only is it lovely, but this is not that far from the equator. There isn't a lot of seasonal variation, and they never have winter. So you can enjoy the water year round.

So many beautiful colors

After we left La Piedra, we visited the new site of Guatapé. The village is very interesting. The walls of this new town were built with a mix of clay, cow manure, and cow's blood. But the bases of the walls were reinforced with concrete. After the homes were built, one man, José María Parra Jiménez, had an idea. Parra Jiménez decided to decorate the base of his home with bas-relief panels depicting a lamb. This was symbolic of Jesus. Others in the town loved this and asked if Parra Jiménez could make something similar for them. But not just lambs. At the homes of bakers, the bas-relief showed ovens and bread. At the homes of farmers, they often showed livestock or farming or crops. Some homes had geometric designs. Some had fishing poles.

The lambs that started it all

Sure enough, the building inside is a bakery

These panels are called zócalos. That surprised me a little bit, because in Mexico the Zocalo is the center square or plaza of a city. But here it refers to the panels. Now, almost every building in Guatapé is painted in bright bold colors and has zócalos along its base.

Cameras

This is a Stationery of the World store. I like the globes.

In the center of Guatapé on one side of the Parque Principal is a church, La Iglesia de Nuestra Señora del Carmen. This also has four panels on it, one beneath each of the four pillars. (I'm not sure if these panels count as zócalos or not.) The four panels are dedicated to four saints, the authors of the four gospels. San Mateo displays a human head. San Marco displays the head of what I thought was maybe a dog or a wolf. (I was wrong.) San Lucas displays the head of a bull. And San Juan displays the head of an eagle. I wondered, why three animals and one human? I did a bit of research and found out this is Catholic symbolism called the tetramorph. I also learned that what I took to be the head of a dog for San Marco is actually a lion. Well, a lion's head.

The church and its four panels

San Mateo

San Marco

San Lucas

San Juan

We were supposed to have a boat tour on the lake. And we did have the start of the boat tour. There were announcements over speakers, first in Spanish, and then in English, telling us about the things we were seeing. We had just learned about the big cross sticking out of the lake. It was the site of the church in the original city of Guatapé which had been demolished to flood the land. But the English language announcement was cut off mid-sentence. There was a medical emergency. At one point, our tour guide got on the PA system and asked if there were any American doctors on board. (She did say "American doctors" but I suspect all she really wanted was a doctor who spoke English.)

The Cross on a pillar in the lake

As you might guess, the boat ride was cut short. From another announcement asking if anyone on board had any sweets, I suspect the medical emergency had to do with someone who was diabetic. I did see the woman who had fallen, and she was so pale, like white as my dry-erase whiteboard.

Alpaca eating, wants nothing to do with me

Our last stop was at a petting zoo with lots of animals and baby animals. This included many South American animals like alpacas, llamas, and guinea pigs. But we also saw ostriches, pigs, donkeys, goats, burros, sheep, chickens, geese, ducks, and horses.

Ostrich babies also want nothing to do with me

Even the pig seems unconcerned with my existence

From there we headed back to Medellín. We stopped at a restaurant in the city and watched much of the Argentina vs Cape Verde soccer game. It went into "overtime" which is called "extra time" and we left before that ended. We wanted to be home before the Colombia vs Ghana game began. Colombia won, which is great, but it did mean another night of going to sleep to the sound of horns honking. Though I wonder what we would have heard had they lost?

Saturday Night Live(ly)

On this past Saturday night, the Colombian faced off with Portugal in World Cup Football (Note, that throughout this post I will use the word "football" as the non-USA world uses it. In other words, it means "soccer".) And we went to see the game live-ish. We weren't truly live, because the game was held in Miami, Florida. Also, I'm sure I couldn't afford the tickets. I say we were live-ish because we went to a local watch party.

Out in the street, near a park, there is a big stage set up. It is actually for the Festival de Platanos, the Plantain Festival. There have been many musical acts and dance acts. But there is also a huge screen for showing the World Cup. Well, we couldn't get close enough to see that screen. But there are several other screens set up along the street leading to the big stage. And that street was filled with people gathering to watch the football game together.

This is shortly before the game begun

We were some of the few people in attendance not wearing a football uniform. Most everyone else was dressed in either bright yellow with red stripes at the shoulders or a nice royal blue with little circles of color throughout. I was wearing gray. I only own four shirts, so I don't have too much variety from which to choose.

Now we are in the midst of the first half

Honestly, I'm not that into football. I'm not particularly invested in which teams advance or win or lose or draw in World Cup games. But, being in Colombia, and having no particular affiliation with Portuguese football, naturally I rooted for Colombia. And there is something magical about being in the crowd. When Colombia advanced the ball to near the Portuguese goal, I felt the excitement as the crowd around me got louder. When Portugal advanced the ball to near the Colombian goal, I felt that tightness in my chest of "Oh no!"

And here is the second half. We switched spots.

I was hoping to experience the thrill when Colombia scored a goal. And I sort of did. It all happened in the second half, in stoppage time. Let me explain stoppage time. You see, in football, there is a 90 minute game divided into two 45 minutes halves. But the clock never stops. If someone is hurt or if there is a foul or anything slows the game, the clock keeps going. So at the end of the 45 minutes of the half, some "extra" time is added to make up for all the times that play wasn't going on during the 45 previous minutes. This is called stoppage time.

So this is the second half, during stoppage time. We are practically at the end of the game and the score is still 0 to 0. Suddenly, Colombia kicked a ball into the goal. You know the cliche "and the crowd goes wild!"? Well, the crowd went wild. People were screaming and dancing. GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAL! (Or in Spanish GOOOOOOOOOOL without the A.) This would likely be a game winning goal. There was so little time left. Amazing!

But the celebration was short lived. It turned out that Colombia had committed an offsides penalty. Essentially, their offensive player had been a bit too far forward before the ball was kicked toward him, he had been closer to the goal than the next to last defender. (Next to last, because it doesn't count the Portuguese goalkeeper.) That's not allowed in football. So the goal was rescinded. I'm sure there is a more appropriate jargon for rescinded, but you get the idea.

The game ended in a 0 to 0 draw. And that was fine. Portugal had been favored to win, so Colombia holding them to a draw was great. And either way, Colombia gets to move on to the Round of 32 games. So the people around us were still very happy.

As I mentioned, football is not my particular interest. But something that is my interest is fire hydrants (as my regular readers must already know.) I like seeing the different styles of hydrants around the world. But what surprises me here is how many different styles there are in one place.

The top of this one is almost sombrero style

It is also interesting to see how many colors they use. In most places, there is some standardization of hydrants in both design and color. Here, there seems to be great variety. I just hope all the varieties work with all the hoses on all the fire trucks.

Note this one has a hexagonal connector at its neck

It isn't so surprising to see yellow and red fire hydrants. They are colors that catch the eye quickly. But here I also see blue fire hydrants. I decided that could be a reference to the colors of Colombia's flag.

Here the top is a dome. And they write numbers on all the hydrants.

If you look up the flags of Colombia, Venezuela, and Ecuador, you will discover they are all very similar. They all involve a stripe of yellow, a stripe of blue and a stripe of red. But why are they all so similar? Because they were all the same country once. When Simón Bolívar liberated much of northern South America from Spanish rule, he established a country called Gran Colombia. Its flag was yellow, blue, and red.

This blue one only has a big front spout and wears a hard hat

Eventually that country broke into four separate countries: Colombia, Venezuela, Ecuador, and Panama. Three of the four used variations on the Gran Colombia flag as their own national flag. Panama went a different direction.

So the national colors could explain the many colors of the hydrants, right? But, then why did I find a green hydrant?

The hypothesis busting green hydrant, with a flat head

That's science though. Sometimes your hypothesis is wrong and you have to take the new evidence and find a new hypothesis. Here's mine. Maybe they just paint the hydrants whatever color they have on hand. Or maybe it is just like football. Everyone on a football team wears the same uniform except one: the goalkeeper. He has to stand out as the only one allowed to touch the ball. So maybe the green hydrant is just like the fire suppression goalkeeper. I agree it isn't a likely hypothesis. But it is a funny one.

Elections and Football

We arrived in Medellín, Colombia on Sunday. We were supposed to arrive on Saturday late at night. But instead we got to spend hours and hours in the Miami International Airport. The three letter code of the airport is MIA which presumably is both short for Miami and stands for Miami International Airport. But I have now figured out the truth. It stands for Missing International Airplanes. But, to be fair, we did make it eventually.

View from the balcony of our apartment

Sunday was a very exciting day for Colombians. It was Father's Day, but that wasn't the reason for the passions to be aroused. Sunday was the presidential runoff election. They had already had their general election and since no candidate had a majority of the vote, the top two vote getters had the runoff election. I won't pretend to know anything about Colombian politics. I can tell you this: the two candidates were a progressive candidate who is the successor of the current president and a far-right candidate who is an attorney. The current president cannot run for re-election, because in Colombia, a president is limited to a single four-year term.

Another view from a different angle

The election was super close. The initial count said that the far-right attorney won by an impressively narrow margin. When this result was announced, there was passion in the streets. For hours people were honking their horns. Pedestrians were carrying Colombian flags and jumping up and down. That was in my neighborhood, which must be pro far-right attorney. From the media I read, in other parts of the country there was passion on the other side, protest.

One more view including a pretty girl

The results were contested. The current president accused Israel of interfering in their election. But a couple days later, the progressive candidate conceded.

I love the flowers here

But politics aren't the only source of passion in Colombia right now. Perhaps even more intense, and one in which the country is united, is the passion for football. (Naturally, I mean soccer.) As you know, the World Cup is going on. And Colombia's team is doing well. And Colombia couldn't be more excited.

A bird of paradise (the flower, not the bird. It's metaphorical.)

There has been one game in which Colombia took part since we arrived. They have a huge screen set up in a nearby park and everyone comes together to watch. We didn't go, because it was a very late game and I had to teach very early the next morning. But on Saturday, when Colombia plays again, we will go and experience the passion in person.

It was pretty funny though, because we can hear when the people shout and cheer from our apartment. We were watching an international broadcast of the game, but clearly we had a bit of a time lag. Because we would always know when Colombia was going to score a goal about two minutes before it happened on our screen. The Colombian feed was more live than ours was. Personally, I didn't watch until the end, because I had to get up early. But I am told it was very exciting.

I am excited about sharing in the crowd swell on Saturday. Naturally, I will be rooting for Colombia (if I know what's good for me.) But I guess it will be interesting to experience whether they win or lose. They are playing Portugal which is a very good team. Portugal is the favorite, being considered the 5th best team in the world. Colombia is considered the 13th best team. I don't know who calculates this, but presumably football experts.

I hope we won't stand out too much as the only people not wearing the shirts of the Colombian team.

The Iiiiiiides of June

If I asked you, "How long is a day?" I think most people would answer, "24 hours." Some people might ask, "What do you mean when you say a day?" That's a valid question, because I could mean a solar day or I could mean a sidereal day. A solar day is the length of time between when the sun reaches its zenith until the next time the sun reaches its zenith. (That's 24 hours.) A sidereal day is how long it takes the Earth to rotate 360 degrees about its axis. Like, if you were watching Earth through a telescope from Betelgeuse (or any far away star), how long would it take from when you saw the big island of Hawaii at the very center of your telescopic view until the next time you saw the big island of Hawaii at the very center o your telescopic view? That's a sidereal day, and it is about 23 hours and 56 minutes. The reason it takes us more than a 360 degree rotation to get the sun back up to its zenith is because the Earth is also orbiting the sun at the same time it is rotating.

You feel safe at the Bangkok Airport with guardians like this one.

But the question "What do you mean when you say a day?" is even more valid. I am about to say something that sounds crazy, but it is true. I just experienced a 35 hour day. You think, "That's not possible, Erich!" But it is. It has to do with what I mean by "a day."

You know about "Beware the Ides of March," right? The Ides means the fifteenth of the month, and it was a bad day for Caesar. Usually, March is the only month in which we even discuss the Ides. But I just had a very special Ides of June. Special how? It was the 35 hour long day I mentioned before.

Our story begins on June 14, but it begins at 11:40 PM. That's when the plane transporting Alrica and I took off from Bangkok, Thailand. Twenty minutes later, it was the beginning of June 15, the Ides of June. And we were in the air. And when we landed, in Frankfurt, Germany, it was 6:15 AM. Now you might think, oh, you spent about six and a half hours in the air. But no, we spent eleven and a half hours in the air. Yes, it was only six and a half hours different on the clock, but Germany is in a time zone that is 5 hours behind the time zone of Thailand.

Old Town in Frankfurt, Germany

Our flight left Frankfurt at 1:20 PM. (Well, it was scheduled to leave at 1:20 PM, it didn't actually leave until after 2 PM.) This meant we were scheduled to have about a seven hour layover in Frankfurt. We took advantage of it and caught a train from the airport into the city. We walked around, saw some sights, ate a bratwurst and an apfelstrudel (apfel is the German word for apple), and returned to the airport with plenty of time to go back through security to reach our gate.

Cathedral of St. Bartholomew

Frankfurt was fine. It didn't really dazzle me. But it has a very cool looking old town. I really liked that. But a lot of the old town isn't that old. During World War II, most of that area was devastated by British bombing. The one exception is the Cathedral of St. Bartholomew.

Look, a restaurant in Frankfurt with my name! Well, my first name.

The cathedral is quite striking. It has these exceptionally tall archways. It also has a very involved organ. It's a pretty building. Inside the building, there is a photograph of the neighborhood just after World War II. And you see this one building, the cathedral, standing tall, surrounded by the blown out wreckage of everything else around it. I don't know if the British somehow planned their bombings to spare it because it was a cathedral or if it was random luck. (If you prefer a supernatural explanation, go for it. I don't subscribe to that explanation, but more power to you if you do!)

We didn't end up boarding our plane until 1:20 PM and as I said, we didn't take off until after 2 PM. We landed in Newark, New Jersey, USA at around 4 PM. Again, this was not a two hour flight. It was an eight hour flight, but we changed six times zones.

We had a not-quite-five-hour layover in Newark. We did not go into the city to explore. As some of you know, long ago, Alrica and I lived in Jersey City, New Jersey and then in Edison, New Jersey. We lived in Edison when our son was born. So we've been to the Newark Airport many times before. And we've been to Newark. Not only was there not enough time to go play around in Newark, there was no desire to do so. I've been, and it isn't that noteworthy that I felt it was worth the effort.

Let me say, I was unimpressed with the airport in Newark. Yes, I had been before, but it was never as a transfer. It was either my start or my end destination. This time we flew into Terminal B, went through passport control and customs, and then we had to get to Terminal A. They have an AirTrain that goes between the terminals. You catch it right there in Terminal B. But when you arrive at the Terminal A stop, you are not at Terminal A. You have to walk from where the train lets you out to Terminal A. Well, you can either walk 12 minutes to the terminal. Or you can walk 4 minutes to a road where you can stand around waiting until a shuttle bus arrives, picks you up, and drives you the rest of the way to terminal A. Either way, not impressed.

We flew out of Newark at 8:45 PM on a flight that was close to three and a half hours long. We landed in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. This time, there was no change of time zones. But our landing time was 11:59 PM. The very last minute of June 15.

But now think this all through. We were in the air at 12:00 AM when June 15 began. We then spent about 11 hours getting to Germany. We spent about 7.5 hours in Frankfurt. Next was another 8 hours on a plane to Newark. Then around 5 hours in Newark Airport. And finally, close to 3 hours flying to Fort Lauderdale landing at 11:59 PM. All on June 15! But if you add that up we have 11 + 7.5 + 8 + 5 + 3.5 = 35 total hours all on June 15! The Ides of June lasted 35 hours for us.

How is this possible> Because, of course, we transitioned through 11 time zones during those 35 hours. The normal 24 hours plus the bonus 11 hours from traveling through time zones while still on the same calendar day gives us a day that lasts for 35 hours.

So here, this is neither a solar day nor a sidereal day. It is a particular date on the calendar, June 15. And the honest answer to "How long is a day" can legitimately be "35 hours." What's more, along with that, you get the special bonuses of jet lag, a confused stomach because it never understands when you are going to eat your next meal, a cramp in your neck from sleeping in uncomfortable airplane seats, and a sore bottom from sitting in those same seats for way too long.

But hey, it's worth it just so I can ask, "How long is a day?"

Square Hot Dogs and Rectangle Sausages

There's a song from the musical Chess that includes the lyrics "One night in Bangkok and the world's your oyster." But what happens if you spend two nights in Bangkok? Two night in Bangkok and hot dogs stop being sausages. (It doesn't quite fit the meter of the original.)

We are in Bangkok as just a transit point. Originally, we were planning to spend only one night in Bangkok. But the airline we were supposed to fly canceled our flight and said they had conveniently booked us on an different flight two days later. That was no good for two reasons.

1. It would mean we would overstay our allowed time in Kazakhstan.
2. We would arrive in Bangkok about six hours after our flight out of Bangkok left.

So we found a different flight on a different airline and left Kazakhstan one day earlier than we had originally intended. So we had two nights in Bangkok. And let me tell you, there are few better places to have to get stuck for a bit longer.

For one thing, hotels in Bangkok are quite affordable. I will get back to talking about the hotel in a moment. Second, if you said, "Erich, you are just going to have to eat authentic Thai food for a couple days," my reply would be "Great!" I love the food here. Last night I had Tom Kha Kai, a chicken soup in a coconut milk broth made with galangal. What an amazing food! Perhaps my favorite soup in the world. Though, I do have some pretty happy memories of my mother's beef and barley soup.

I was saying to Alrica that I figured a person's favorite food of various categories probably always came either from something you loved in your childhood or something that was completely unknown to you in your childhood and that you discovered someplace else. She disagreed and told me her favorite soup is the Chicken and Dumplings soup that I make. Awwww! What a sweet wife. That's a point in her favor. Good thing too, because she's about to get a strike against her.

We get breakfast at the hotel each day. It's a very good buffet with lots of choices, including some that we don't traditionally think of as breakfast foods. This morning, there was fettucine alfredo and Alrica pointed out that it was very good, but not a usual breakfast food. I put a sausage on my fork and said, "If I call this a sausage, it is breakfast food. But if I call it a hot dog, it isn't."

That's when Alrica made the crazy argument, "A hot dog is not a sausage." What? I was flabbergasted! Not a sausage? Isn't it ground up meat stuffed inside an edible tube? Naturally, I went to the internet and the internet assured me that a hot dog is a type of sausage. Just as a square is a rectangle, but a rectangle may not be a square, a hot dog is a sausage, though a sausage may not be a hot dog.

To this Alrica explained that she grew up in the south, and to any good connoisseur of southern cuisine, a hot dog is not a sausage.

I pointed out that this is a No True Scotsman fallacy. A No True Scotsman fallacy goes something like this:
Person A: No Scotsman drinks his beer cold. They only drink it warm.
Person B: My uncle is a Scotsman and he loves drinking cold beer.
Person A: No true Scotsman drinks his beer cold.

This is also called "moving the goal posts." Sure, if Alrica gets to change the definition of sausage however she would like, I guess she's right and I'm wrong. But I am then just as allowed to use the actual definition of sausage, and so I am right too. This becomes one of those agree to disagree moments. (Except this is agree to disagree and in my heart I know I'm right.)

Naturally, I am going to get a very stern look when Alrica reads this blog post. But what kind of man would I be if I didn't defend the hot dog's legitimate placement in the sausage umbrella? One who was unworthy of a hot dog. And I wouldn't ever want to be that.