CAG@LOCS#24
Disclaimer: I begin to type this around 22:42 Thursday night, as the musician harmoniously tests the microphone and the dallop of cream on my slice of manzana-y-cinamón cake slowly settles. I've logged onto the wireless network but can't seem to get online, but this place is worth taking a bit of extra effort to describe.
People sometimes talk about falling in love with a place, often a third place, so fairly often a coffee shop. Only now do i admit that this could genuinely be the case. I'm tempted to keep the description to a minimum; details would distract one from the moral that El Baúl Café is a treasure, everything that a coffee shop should be, y nada mas. In a tourist hub like Viña del Mar i'm surprised that such a place hasn't been taken over by a drunk or studious clientele (to which i would shamelessly contribute). Instead, the people here by their jovial demeanor seamlessly reflect the (i'll say it) Christmasy look of the shop: plain wooden furniture, colorful pillows and sofas, soft lighting, decorative cloths and drapes, etc., etc., even the vintage (we'd call it that, anyway) clothing racks off to the side. Maybe i'm just a foreigner taking comfort in some semblance of familiarity among the uneasy pseudo-urban sprawl*, but i'd willingly sacrifice an echelon of daily comfort to be able to stop in here for an hour each evening.
Now if only they had punchcards.
Well, i made my first honest attempt at finding some new equations for the smallest matrix affine Schubert variety that exhibits this bad behavior i've been examining for a while. (See? My productivity doubles at conferences, even when i'm operating on 4 hours' sleep!) They failed, but i feel like i'm on the right track, and the next task i've set for myself is to test a zoo of broader variants on a theme to see if any give me what i'm after. Ask me mañana.
I'll make no attempt to describe the wondrous experiences i've been having in Viña and Valpo this week, except to affirm that they range among mathematical conversations, goofing off with colleagues, getting lost on my own, meeting up with couchsurfers, and the various unexpected consequences thereof. It would take as long to relate as it has to do, but ask me any time.
A note on getting lost: I've come either to realize or to decide (and it's almost irrelevant which) that my habit of getting disoriented in new (or not so new) locations is actually more of a predilection; i set out without firm direction and so get lost almost intentionally, but this is how i like to explore, and the quickest way for me to construct an internal map of a place. I also like being left alone for long intervals at a time, and this is certainly one of the surest ways of discouraging people from tagging along. (Though i wish Mark had joined me for the couple more blocks it took to locate this place from Kris's directions. I'm eternally grateful to her for the recommendation.)
I love this singer/guitarist's sounds. I hope he writes his own lyrics.
Post-script: It's likewise appropriate that i include some thoughts from the walk back to the Cap Ducal. Of course a foreign (to me) clientele lends any place some level of credibility (or the impression thereof), but there's certainly more than this going on at El Baúl. That place just makes me feel happy by existing on all sides of me.
* Is it easier to fall in love with someone in an unfamiliar place? Or is it just easier to think that you have?
People sometimes talk about falling in love with a place, often a third place, so fairly often a coffee shop. Only now do i admit that this could genuinely be the case. I'm tempted to keep the description to a minimum; details would distract one from the moral that El Baúl Café is a treasure, everything that a coffee shop should be, y nada mas. In a tourist hub like Viña del Mar i'm surprised that such a place hasn't been taken over by a drunk or studious clientele (to which i would shamelessly contribute). Instead, the people here by their jovial demeanor seamlessly reflect the (i'll say it) Christmasy look of the shop: plain wooden furniture, colorful pillows and sofas, soft lighting, decorative cloths and drapes, etc., etc., even the vintage (we'd call it that, anyway) clothing racks off to the side. Maybe i'm just a foreigner taking comfort in some semblance of familiarity among the uneasy pseudo-urban sprawl*, but i'd willingly sacrifice an echelon of daily comfort to be able to stop in here for an hour each evening.
Now if only they had punchcards.
Well, i made my first honest attempt at finding some new equations for the smallest matrix affine Schubert variety that exhibits this bad behavior i've been examining for a while. (See? My productivity doubles at conferences, even when i'm operating on 4 hours' sleep!) They failed, but i feel like i'm on the right track, and the next task i've set for myself is to test a zoo of broader variants on a theme to see if any give me what i'm after. Ask me mañana.
I'll make no attempt to describe the wondrous experiences i've been having in Viña and Valpo this week, except to affirm that they range among mathematical conversations, goofing off with colleagues, getting lost on my own, meeting up with couchsurfers, and the various unexpected consequences thereof. It would take as long to relate as it has to do, but ask me any time.
A note on getting lost: I've come either to realize or to decide (and it's almost irrelevant which) that my habit of getting disoriented in new (or not so new) locations is actually more of a predilection; i set out without firm direction and so get lost almost intentionally, but this is how i like to explore, and the quickest way for me to construct an internal map of a place. I also like being left alone for long intervals at a time, and this is certainly one of the surest ways of discouraging people from tagging along. (Though i wish Mark had joined me for the couple more blocks it took to locate this place from Kris's directions. I'm eternally grateful to her for the recommendation.)
I love this singer/guitarist's sounds. I hope he writes his own lyrics.
Post-script: It's likewise appropriate that i include some thoughts from the walk back to the Cap Ducal. Of course a foreign (to me) clientele lends any place some level of credibility (or the impression thereof), but there's certainly more than this going on at El Baúl. That place just makes me feel happy by existing on all sides of me.
* Is it easier to fall in love with someone in an unfamiliar place? Or is it just easier to think that you have?