CAG@LOCS#27
I've decided that there's nothing calming in quite the way of a frappe mocha in an empty open-air crepetería the warm evening following a blazing summer day in Monterrey. Except maybe if all the chairs weren't red, plastic, and glaringly labeled "Coca-Cola". The world just isn't perfect yet.
Notre Zair is quite the odd place by American standards: The eating area consists of the aforedescribed chairs, tables recycled from sewing machines, light jazz and techno, and various unprovocative works of art. Outside flies one of those annoying fan-blown tubes with "CREPES" written in red. But it seems that the typical Latin American city exhibits this conflict between commercial homogeneity and personal uniqueness. One really must look past exteriors. In any event, this is the place to go to relax with a crepe or a coffee in the midst of the never-ceasing Monterrey night life. And, to top it off, the mother and son who run the place speak passable English.
I've realized that over the past year i've somehow come to gain a feel for my subject. Of course one might read in an arbitrarily chosen textbook that combinatorial algebraic geometry consists largely of attempts at decomposing or deconstructing algebraically categorized geometric figures (i.e. algebraic geometric objects) into components that can be indexed naturally, or at least suggestively, by combinatorial objects, ideally objects already associated with the others by understood calculations; but to be able to say so with a moderate level of confidence in my wording and general correctness is a very new and humbling feeling (humbling in the Socratic sense that it reveals one's comparative lack of understanding with respect to the finer details of any specific topic).
My current d/l goal is to understand Hessenberg varieties, as my MASVs are special cases thereof and some of the interesting structure i've come up with seems only to depend on the properties shared by all Hessenberg varieties . . . so it would be nice to be able to say so in the final write-up. These things are turning out to be somewhat less pleasant than i anticipated from their definition, though, and i'm afraid that i'll be due some advisorial suggestions by the time i return (again) to Blacksburg.
One strange thing about México, or at least Monterrey, is the popularity (in all realms of the culture) of instrumental renditions of top-ten English-language singles, perhaps the most memorable being an orchestration of "Bicycle Race".
Rather than as an offshoot of CouchSurfing, i'm of the opinion that a network of graduate students must be organized to facilitate the arrangement of free and sociable housing for those underfunded traveling speakers that are becoming fewer by the week due to rising gas prices. Austin and Matt and i will have to work on this.
If you try, you can make a frappe mocha last a good little while.
Post Script: One of the most difficult fallacies to avoid, in my experience, is imposing your own situational biases upon new experiences. Monterrey truly comes alive at night, and i am not used to this, and the same goes for much else. I am utterly ignorant of the social workings that keep this city going, but (contrariwise to my usual indifference) i find myself keenly intrigued and interested in learning much more. I should be careful not to let my travels overwhelm my limited supply of curiosity.
Notre Zair is quite the odd place by American standards: The eating area consists of the aforedescribed chairs, tables recycled from sewing machines, light jazz and techno, and various unprovocative works of art. Outside flies one of those annoying fan-blown tubes with "CREPES" written in red. But it seems that the typical Latin American city exhibits this conflict between commercial homogeneity and personal uniqueness. One really must look past exteriors. In any event, this is the place to go to relax with a crepe or a coffee in the midst of the never-ceasing Monterrey night life. And, to top it off, the mother and son who run the place speak passable English.
I've realized that over the past year i've somehow come to gain a feel for my subject. Of course one might read in an arbitrarily chosen textbook that combinatorial algebraic geometry consists largely of attempts at decomposing or deconstructing algebraically categorized geometric figures (i.e. algebraic geometric objects) into components that can be indexed naturally, or at least suggestively, by combinatorial objects, ideally objects already associated with the others by understood calculations; but to be able to say so with a moderate level of confidence in my wording and general correctness is a very new and humbling feeling (humbling in the Socratic sense that it reveals one's comparative lack of understanding with respect to the finer details of any specific topic).
My current d/l goal is to understand Hessenberg varieties, as my MASVs are special cases thereof and some of the interesting structure i've come up with seems only to depend on the properties shared by all Hessenberg varieties . . . so it would be nice to be able to say so in the final write-up. These things are turning out to be somewhat less pleasant than i anticipated from their definition, though, and i'm afraid that i'll be due some advisorial suggestions by the time i return (again) to Blacksburg.
One strange thing about México, or at least Monterrey, is the popularity (in all realms of the culture) of instrumental renditions of top-ten English-language singles, perhaps the most memorable being an orchestration of "Bicycle Race".
Rather than as an offshoot of CouchSurfing, i'm of the opinion that a network of graduate students must be organized to facilitate the arrangement of free and sociable housing for those underfunded traveling speakers that are becoming fewer by the week due to rising gas prices. Austin and Matt and i will have to work on this.
If you try, you can make a frappe mocha last a good little while.
Post Script: One of the most difficult fallacies to avoid, in my experience, is imposing your own situational biases upon new experiences. Monterrey truly comes alive at night, and i am not used to this, and the same goes for much else. I am utterly ignorant of the social workings that keep this city going, but (contrariwise to my usual indifference) i find myself keenly intrigued and interested in learning much more. I should be careful not to let my travels overwhelm my limited supply of curiosity.