The life is surprise.
- my Chilean roommate
It is more noble to give yourself completely to one individual than to labor diligently for the salvation of the masses (Dan Hammarskjold, former UN Secretary General)…
- Stephan Covey
The life is surprise.
- my Chilean roommate
It is more noble to give yourself completely to one individual than to labor diligently for the salvation of the masses (Dan Hammarskjold, former UN Secretary General)…
- Stephan Covey
Going back to April, as I said, I was preparing for my trip to
Yip, no electricity. Why? Well, without pointing fingers, let’s just say some things really are better when you do it yourself. At least they get done, even if not in the best way. Anyway, regardless of who was to blame, the outcome meant my apartment hadn’t received any electricity bills since we moved in, thus not paying for any, and hence, us getting our power cut.
In an odd way, it sort of brought things to a nice and slow, candle-lit, let’s-get-to-know-each-other-better-over-drinks-because-we-can’t-do-anything-else point in the apartment. Despite this, I really did want to do whatever I could to help get the electricity back before I left for
That Friday, I met with the Italian-Canadian professor from my first semester to show him some of the work I’d done for
I had thought that this time, because I was flying, there wouldn’t be any major surprises as far as getting myself settled was concerned, but as usual, I was proven wrong. Although the flight was pretty much as the ticket said (one and a half hours), waiting for my luggage and commuting from the Airport to my new free-of-charge six day temporary dwelling (thanks to www.coachsurfing.com) took until the evening, and shattered any plans I might have made for that day. Ah well.
The neighbourhood I was to stay in was pretty upscale and beautiful, just across the canal from the
The first of two design conferences (my main reason for going to
Now, it would really be too much if I tried to summarize my experience of both the conferences and time in
- a relearning that the “design industry” (if you can really even call it that) is filled with professionals of varied intelligence and levels of it, and unsurprisingly, papers and presentations that reflect that diversity;
- the realization that some conference presentations are nothing more than sale pitches for companies, universities, projects or personalities;
- the observation that the motivation for why many people attend conferences as obscure as those that deal with the issue (if there is one) of “design thinking” or “design management”, it’s sadly largely based on feelings of jealousy, insufficiency, or grounds for proving superiority or recognition;
- the good fortune of finding and getting to know a Turkish PhD professor living in Barcelona who has a good sense of humor and desire to “speak unspoken truths”; an American PhD that reminded me so much of a good high school friend in both character and intellectual pursuit; an American masters student studying in London who has pretty similar career interests and perspectives on culture and philosophy. (I spent a lot of time with those three guys, and feel like in my masters course in
- the nerve that I got during the last hearing of the first conference to actually stand up and be the last person to give my feedback on the work and ideas presented. (I think I was the youngest person to do so, and in a room of some 200 academics, that wasn’t easy).
The city itself was a pretty nice experience. Paris really is as beautiful as it’s made out to be. I saw a lot of the famous landmarks, strolled down the Champs-Elysees, ate “authentic” crepes, and yes of course, checked out a local salsa club. I didn’t dance though. A French girl I had met in Shanghai was to meet me there, but she came later than I expected, and since I was with my newfound American masters student acquaintance, I didn’t want to wait too long. I realized then the guilt in focusing on my own pleasure rather than over another person’s comfort. The situation also hauntingly reminded me of many mistakes I’m sure I’ve made thinking this way. So, instead of the dancing the night away, I spent it building a friendship. I returned to Milan the night of April 19th to a re-electrified apartment.
The next two days were the 2008 Salone di Mobile, probably the most popular public event in Milan by far. While the event focuses almost exclusively on furniture and household appliances (the traditional domain of industrial designers), and wasn’t really something I was really interested in at all, I felt obliged to go. The experience was a stark contrast to the conferences I had just come back from and had my head spinning in a daze, asking myself the question: How can I be a designer and not be interested in these things? I need to design a chair! Don’t get me wrong though, I think it’s good that people are designing these things (there was even Japanese equivalent of the Korean made Ceregem massage beds, ha ha), but I guess I just don’t want to be one of them. And so goes the quest for “what I really want to do for work”.
My computer wasn’t actually completely virus-free until after all this happened. One of my Latvian roommates, who apparently is as much a computer-geek as he is artist, helped me here. Who would have known?
It was around this time that I started to watch Canadian news and NHL highlights online. I don’t think I ever valued Canadian media and pop culture as much as I started to then.
On April 22nd, after an inspiring guest lecture on brand strategies focused on China, I went out with my Italian class to nearby bar. Since then, the class and the time that we spend together afterwards had really become something I really looked forward to. The students reminded me of high school, and the teacher lively, prepared, encouraging, and unlike the majority of Italian professors I’ve met here, on time.
On the 26th, after a good conversation with one of my Indian classmates, I came up with four task-orientated categories of pretty much all job types I could think of: make, manage, sell & buy. (Yeah, I know, I can be a geek too). There’s not much more to add to that here, other than to say that from this I came up with two concrete directions in which I can now redirect my career: sell energy technologies or manage consumer research. Either way, I know I’m moving away from design (“make”).
My class group presented our third workshop proposals to a representative of the said company from the previous post on the 28th. Feedback was unsurprisingly unsubstantial, even after each group presented their work twice. But surprisingly, despite being a Monday, we weren’t to have another class until the Wednesday of the next week. Why? See if you can follow this logic: The company representative that we were supposed to be doing our next and final workshop with, wasn’t available the next day. Labour Day was on the Thursday, and so that meant that Friday would also be a day off, and of course, as our “regular schedule” was supposed to go, we weren’t supposed to have classes on Monday or Tuesday the following week, so that just left Wednesday. But of course, why have one day of class and let the students think about the project for the next eight days when you can just give them a vacation instead? So, no class Wednesday too. I love this place. The next day, I made my plan for those eight days (largely computer work).
For a change of scenery, and the comfort of feeling like I was in “school”, I spent most of my next few days in the university biblioteca (library). It was there that I met my newfound Italian studymates, who along with my Italian class, have really made my stay in Milan a bit more comfortable and easier.
On May 3, a picnic in the park with some of my Italian classmates and an extended invitation to my roommates, meant a surprising change in the dynamic of our apartment: the introduction of Mexicans. This began the language and cultural exchange between the Latinos and Latvians. Being the outsider to both groups wasn’t really a new experience for me, but like any foreign environment, knowing how and when to get involved has always been the challenge.
Two days later, after spending most of the day writing my summary of Paris, I came back to the apartment to see a really depressed and confused roommate. With one of other roommates, we watched the movies “Go” and “Criminal Lovers”. “Criminal Lovers” is French film that tells a story of increasing emotional complexity and strange plot twists. Not too far from the situation in our apartment if you ask me. With “Go”, a statement about success really got to me. I don’t remember the exact quote, but it said something along the lines of: “Nowadays, people often succeed by keeping others down rather than by showing genuine talent”. Based on my experience in an international masters program, I’d say there’s a fair bit of truth in the statement. The next evening we watched yet another movie together before calling it a night.
On the morning of May 7th, my Chilean roommate announced that he would leave the apartment, no matter the consequences according to the contract. The reason given this time apparently had to do with personal feelings and conflicts more than anything else. After talking to him on the way to class that morning, I couldn’t help but relate his situation to that of mine when I decided to stay in Edmonton after my first trip to China. Now, I think I really understand what my real motivation was, and why it was wrong.
When we arrived in class, we were greeted by another pleasant surprise: no class! Why? Because the workshop tutor was ill, and in classic Politecnico fashion, there was no substitute planned. So, I spent the day shopping with a classmate instead. I felt like I had almost forgotten how long a day of shopping can be. Add to that the heat of the day (at +25, summer seemed to already have arrived), and the temptation of “dolce” (sweets), and I was spent. It was in that experience that I realized once again that my mind largely occupies itself with three topics: philosophy, work to do, and (you guessed it) girls. It took some time for me to relax and enjoy yet another day off, but when I did, I ended up buying a pair of shorts and a shirt, and napping in La Rinascente (the staff let me do that I assume because my partner-in-crime was busy buying the whole store (I exagrerate, but after an hour, it felt like that).
The next day was the last day my Chilean roommate would be a roommate (at least for the week). The morning was slow since we were told that we didn’t have class until the afternoon (at least we were going to have it). We talked all the way to a career fair that morning and continued once we got there. On the way to class, I felt I finally understood his reasons for wanting to leave. Once again, relating it to my experiences, it amazed me how similar people think and react given certain conditions. I would say that that’s evidence enough of some kind of “human nature”. My psychologist brother would have to verify this, but I really believe that all people are the same deep down, with the same needs, faults and “programming” (though I hate to use that term).
The afternoon was a bit of a surprise too. It turns out that for our last company workshop, my Chilean roommate and I would be in the same group. I hoped that would be a good thing.
After my Italian class and after-class amusement, I returned in the evening to the feeling of an empty apartment. My Chilean roommate had left his goodbye note on the wall. I made my dinner in relative silence until my Latvian roommates arrived with two new friends which were apparently staying over for a few days, along with a new Mexican boyfriend. I really wasn’t in the mood for anymore surprises, but in that situation, I felt like I couldn’t do anything, so I didn’t. I slept in parts that night, my roommates (old and new) leaving and returning early in the morning. Fortunately, I didn’t feel too tired when I got up.
When I arrived to school, I was one of only a few, thanks once again to another infamous Milanese sciopero (strike). That was good for me since it gave me time to put together some ideas to help guide my group along (something I felt I’d be doing a lot of that for that workshop). The good thing was that it would give me good practice in leadership and proactivity.
I returned to Caffe Carribe after months of absence that Friday, and got reacquainted with many of my fellow Ital-salseros. It was great to be back.
Saturday, May 10th, I joined a friend for a tram party in the evening. Something like a lesser version of the Carnivale in Venice, complete with masks and all. A strange, but pleasant surprise for sure. I ran into one of my roommates, my new ex-roommate and some of my Mexican Italian classmates on my way back to the apartment late that night.
The next two weeks from Sunday to Sunday (apart from school work) consisted of: watching an Italian people-with-disabilities play; attending an Eritrean independence day celebration; being “discovered” in the salsa scene by a pretty “plugged in” salsero who has since showed me different venues for salsa in and around the city; beginning my resume writing, portfolio making, and interviews for internships; going to another classmate’s birthday party and a few too many late night parties with my roommates; the unsurprising return of my Chilean roommate. The last of which made for a good Sunday, on May 18th, where we watched Zeitgeist together and had a long discussion about design and its (in)significance.
Saturday May 24th was a day to remember. Having no work to do for my job for over a week, and feeling no specific pressure to revise my resume and portfolio, I spent most of the day relaxing. By whatever fortune, my Chilean roommate and I got to talking again that evening, and at some point he remarked that he “felt bad” that after seven months he was finally getting to know me “as a friend”. That was a totally unexpected surprise for me.
Later that night, we went out to a club together to celebrate our new level of friendship. However, before we could enter, my Chilean roommate stopped to continue our conversation, which was when we were approached by a typical street vendor (usually from Asia or Africa selling things anything from bracelets to neon lit animal hats). Now, a normal interaction would have included: a greeting and demonstration of the items for sale by the vendor and then a show of compassion, confusion or disgust by the would-be customer. However this time, my Chilean roommate engaged in a rather lengthy lecture on business and strategy to him, taking points straight out of our course! It was a hilarious experience, like something out of a movie, but I tried to hold back my laughter. What a night.
May 27th was the day my class began its final work on “the technical feasibility of one of the past projects”. The day turned into something more of an experiment in democracy, with each group that had worked on their projects defending theirs as “feasible” until the last vote was cast. There were also those who “switched parties”. And as always, I fell into both categories. Work begun on each project the next day. I got what I voted for.
Class finished early on the 27th so that we could attend another guest lecturer, this time from MIT, who presented three experimental projects on mobility, tourism and consumer experience. I thought they were really interesting, but Ezio Manzini, (the host of all of these guest lectures) gave his final critique of the work presented on the grounds that fashion was not considered in these experimental projects, and making a differentiation between Design A (a design team) and Design B (a designer). It was at that point that I started to understand my confusion with the design industry. I think I have always thought of design more as Design A than B. It was also at that point that I decided not to listen to Ezio Manzini so much anymore.
June 1st was another important day for me, as it was the day I finally received direct client feedback on the work that I’ve been doing for Shanghai. After an hour long Skype meeting with my boss and his client, and a subsequent meeting with only my boss, the project had been redefined. What does that mean? Basically, while not all the work that I’ve done is now useless, it means that I now have two months to create a “technically feasible” concept based on what the client now wants and not what he wanted. My boss gave me the option to quit the project earlier if I felt like it wasn’t any longer of interest to me, but for better or worse, I said I would stay on until my internship. Coincidentally, this does impact any plans I might have made to travel back to Shanghai once my course is finished, leaving my future once again to the great unknown called September. This experience also echoed thoughts worth repeating again: any projects consciously thought of as good or bad, should NEVER be given priority over things that matter most in life, like relationships with neighbors, friends, families and lovers…
Perhaps this was a reason why this past Friday, after a class confrontation with my Chilean roommate, our relationship has taken a turn for the worse and he is planning to leave the apartment for the last time. With less than two months left in our contract, this comes at a difficult time. My Latvian roommates plan to leave by the end of this month, and the owners have already been looking for replacements, but with limited success. While I am not too worried about who will be paying the rent in July, I am more concerned about what new surprises are in store, and trying my best to anticipate them.
…
On a positive note, I got to see one of the brighter sides to my Italian experience on Italy’s Festa di Repubblica, as Andrea Bocelli gave a live performance in the center of the city, and have since started watching Euro 2008 (Go Germany!). However, I’ve also had to say goodbye to my Italian class this past Monday, and start to say my goodbyes to the salsa scene as places close for the summer.
Some of my family and friends will be visiting in the next few weeks, and at this point, I could use the familiarity. But before that happens, I’ve got a lot of work to do.
So it goes.
I tried to sleep on the train, but once I got to Torino, I needed to change trains to continue my journey to the town of Bardonecchia, on the French boarder. On that train, I sat in front of a really positive 30 year old Frenchman, and we shared stories of our adventures along the way. He had won a scholarship to play soccer on a US team when he was in college, was on the French news when Hurricane Katrina hit, and then worked in Shenzhen, China for a year and a half. He said he had ambitions to start his own import-export company with China (a fairly common idea I’ve come across when talking to people who have lived in China for a while), but now, thanks to a year old marriage and his wife’s pregnancy, he has chosen to become what Ezio Manzini referred to as a “downshifter”: working in a sports shop and taking his time to enjoy “the little things in life”. Near the end of our travels together, he told me to “just keep moving forward”. Another point taken.
When I finally arrived in Bardonecchia, what I had hoped for came true. Standing in front of the lift-pass office was a fellow Canadian waiting for it to open (almost everything everywhere in Italy closes for at least an hour and half for lunch). We chatted there for a bit and then took a short stroll down the street to get a coffee. He was a fairly stereotypical guy originally from Newfoundland, now living in Idaho, who had somehow got a three month university contract in Torino to teach International Business, even though his background was in Marketing. He told me a lot about differences between Canada and the US, his academic interests and his love for cars (he had just gotten back from the Geneva Auto Show, which is ironically where I planned to go after Bardonecchia). Oddly enough though, I felt this encounter had shown me both the good and bad side of living so long in North America. The world outside is so different.
The two of us arrived at the bottom of the slopes by shuttle bus just after three in the afternoon, which gave us just two hours to ski (since almost everyone everywhere in Italy goes home when you least expect them to). I hesitated, but ended up renting some equipment and went for my three runs down the mountain. It ended up being well worth in though. On my second ride up the mountain, I got talking to two local employees who helped me find a place to stay that night, since I decided two hours of mountain time was not enough.
At five, I met one of the employees, Daniele, who had promised to drive me to the local bed and breakfast. Along the way, he invited me out with his friend for pizza. How could I say no? The three of us and Daniele’s dog climbed up a snow covered mountain path to see his cottage (a relic of the second world war) and later were treated by him in a really nice local restaurant. The whole time, I kept up in Italian conversation and felt so fortunate to have met such hospital Italians. Daniele’s friend gave me a jar of honey for my trip. Oh man!
The next day, I woke up to a fairly typical Italian breakfast and sense of hospitality from the bed and breakfast’s host Franca. I asked her if I could leave my luggage in my room while I went to go ski, and also if she could look up the times when I could take a train to Geneva later that evening, and her response, as so often was, was “Come vuoi” (As you want). I passed through Les Arnault (the village just outside Bardonecchia) on my way to the ski lifts, and in no time was back on the slopes.
The day passed by rather quickly, despite the fact that I took many breaks to eat and rest. By the end of my runs, I had completed nearly half the runs on one side of the resort. I finished my time there indulging in a little pie, and consequentially meeting Daniele once again. He had been apparently working in the machine shop the entire day, which would explain why I didn’t see him until then. He drove me back to the bed and breakfast around 5:30pm.
When I got there, Franca told me that there was no train that evening that would get me to Geneva, but I wasn’t convinced, so together the two of us went into town trying to find other options. I didn’t want to miss going to Geneva or the auto show, which was to end the next day. It turned out that my best option was to wait for the next morning and take a train into France to get to Geneva in the afternoon, giving me more or less 2 hours at the auto show. Not ideal, but better than nothing.
So, instead of getting ready to travel that evening, I spent it chatting and eating in the bed and breakfast, and later with Daniele, his wife and some of their friends in a pizzeria on top of a mountain. It was a good time, and I once again impressed myself with how well I could keep up in Italian. Who knew?
...
On Sunday, I caught the morning train bound for Chambery, France. Because I had originally thought I could somehow cut across the Italian Alps into Switzerland, I didn’t plan on spending any extra money on train tickets from Bardonecchia onwards, since I had bought a EuroRail ticket for a trip that didn’t include France. Now that I was passing through France (like everything else in Europe) I had to pay an arm and a leg for it. Once I made it to Chambery, I needed to change trains, and with the quick help of a pair of Lithuanian girls, I managed to buy a ticket for Geneva and board the train just as the last train controller was finishing his last platform check. Talk about timing.
By noon, I made it to Amberieu, where I had to change trains again, but had an hour and a half to do it, so I went exploring. Being a Sunday, I ended up at a church where I took pictures of people and their lent leaves (or whatever they’re called). It took a while for 1:30 to arrive, but when it did, I was finally off to Geneva.
When I got to the main train station in the Geneva, something immediately felt different. I thought maybe it was the buildings, but I wasn’t exactly sure. Arriving in a different country of course meant passing through a kind of quick customs inspection. Luckily, no x-rays or long lines though. With the help of a friendly staff person, I found the right train to make it to the Geneva Palexpo, site of the Geneva Auto Show. I didn’t know how to get my ticket, but since I thought I only had two hours to see the show, the last thing I wanted to do was spend more time on something as trivial as that. So, I took a chance. After talking with some train service people, I managed to get on board the eating car free of charge. In light of the quasi-confusing state that I was in, I was introduced to a big black guy who I assume was the head of that car. It turns out that he was a French-Canadian who had lived in Switzerland for ten years, Africa for two and finally decided to call Geneva his second home. He said he was also heading to the Palexpo that day, so we went there together. We got along instantly, and despite having little interest in cars and having never been to the Auto Show, he said he would come by later on. It was pretty cool. Another Canadian, just like that.
The show was pretty much as big as I imagined, with content dwarfed by extravagance. Most makes, from Rolls-Royce to Pinifarina, and Tata (from India) to Brilliance (from China) were there. And of course, being consistent with the theme of sustainability that has been tooted around the industry for the past 10 years or so, the alternatives (from Smart to the no-name electrics) were there as well. Oddly enough though, my fascination about the show wasn’t so much in the cars as in the display booths. Perhaps this was an influence from my masters course, but I really did find them fascinating. BMW had a two floor showcase and a VIP bar and lounge. Smart had their entire booth on a slant. Maybach and Rolls-Royce had hidden display areas. Fiat had a huge Cinquecento shaped room. Audi and VW played with lines on the floor and the ceiling. And Mini had a DJ booth. It was a pretty crazy competition for attention. The big black guy joined me after some time, and we made our run through the show together.
He said he wanted show me around the city and have dinner with his family afterwards, but after news of private matters, I was left on my own. He did recommend I visit an area near the railway station though, where I could try some “real” poulet. So, I made my way there, but ended up looking for one of the two hostels I had researched online, getting “the last bed in Geneva”, eating McDonald’s with one of two Chinese academic researchers there for an international conference on meteorology, and walking through the red light district (which wasn’t as impressive or as scary as I imagined it might be).
...
The next morning, I woke up as early as I could to catch the first train to Basel, Switzerland, and subsequentially, the trains from Basel to Frankfurt, Frankfurt to Dortmund, and Dortmund to Muenster. Total time in transit, including waiting: almost 11 hours. Not quite Shanghai to Chengdu, and nothing like the Maglev to the Pudong International Airport, but it gave me time to think and sleep.
Once I got to Muenster, although it wasn’t raining like in Geneva, it was cold. I exited the train station from the back, where I was welcomed by a thousand parked bicycles. This was definitely the other western Europe I had hoped to see since I started researching sustainable mobility. I was picked up by one of my aunts and made it to her apartment in time for dinner.
From Tuesday, March 18th to Thursday, March 20th, I spent time with my aunt, and one of my cousins and his family. It had been many years since I had last seen both of them in Germany, but it was good to get reacquainted. It was my first time meeting my nephews. Loud and demanding, they weren’t too far off from my better-halves in Milan. Good practice for the future is the way I look at it now though. We said our goodbyes that Thursday, and by four o’clock, I was on my first train bound for the Netherlands.
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I had to change trains twice to get to Delft (a small university town near The Haag), and once I got there the rain that had begun earlier that trip, accompanied by the cold that had been following me since Bardonecchia really brought me back to winter in Edmonton. It was late evening by that time, and the ground was soaking, the grass like moss and the wind like that I’d imagine on the high seas. And on top of that, finding my Indonesian friend’s door to her student residence (the girl who had moved to the Netherlands for an alternate masters program) was like walking through a maze in the dark. It was a terrible entrance into yet another country. That night, I had dinner with my friend, her roommate, and another one of their friends- all Indonesian. Forgetting that I was in someone else’s home, I started to ask questions (that addressed my immediate personal needs one would normally assume would have already been taken care of (like bringing toothpaste, a razor, of which I had forgotten back in Milan)). That sort of set the tone of that portion of my journey with my new temporary roommates, on par with the weather.
On Good Friday, three of us traveled together to Amsterdam to meet some fellow classmates from the masters program in Milan and another friend from Italy. Together, the six of us went site-seeing, visiting churches, museums, and of course, the red light district (not so impressive either, but better than Geneva). Late in the evening, I finally decided to look for a place to sleep. I originally had hoped to stay in my friend’s place the entire time that I was in the Netherlands, but because I planned this trip largely based on assumptions (remember what I said about assumptions!?!), I wasn’t prepared for this (not to mention the order in which I planned this trip, touring the Netherlands during the Easter weekend instead of spending that time with my family in Muenster). But, that’s how it goes.
After finding no vacancy in all the hostels on one of the main tourist streets, I sat in an Irish pub, thinking to just pass the night there. It didn’t take me long to just get up and look for another place to stay. With little effort, I ended up finding what I think was a one star hotel, and stayed there for twenty euros. My room was in the shape of a triangle, on the top floor of the building with questionable security, pretty dirty conditions, and a bed next to a guy from Somalia who didn’t really speak English and snored really loudly. It was a different kind of night, but I was happy to have what I’m sure was “the last bed in Amsterdam”.
The next morning, I woke up to an emergency call from my Indonesian friend who had said that one of our other friends had lost her luggage in the train station. When I got there, the luggage situation had apparently already been worked out, but we could only get the luggage later that afternoon. So, we each went our own way touring the city until we met there once again. We had a kind of Easter lunch celebration in an Argentinean restaurant, and then returned to Delft. In the evening, I got to witness my first Dutch Easter mass. The Dutch language as far as I’ve come to understand, although uses some German words and similar expressions, is nothing at all like it. On the way back to my friend’s place, I felt like I was somehow “in the wrong”, so I started to apologize for my difficulty, thinking once again it was based on culture. As it turns out, the problem had more to do with my lack of focus, conciseness and hesitation when I speak. In other words, the “test” of my Anyway blog. I guess I did fail after all.
The next day was relatively slow and easy. In the morning, I had a great conversation with the classmate who had almost lost her luggage about life and relationships. I can’t summarize it here, but the main message was pretty much what my philosophy professor gymmate at the university used to say to me every time we would finish our conversations: “Keep smiling Tim”. I’ll never forget that.
I toured the main square of Delft with the same classmate and then caught a train to Rotterdam where I ended up in a nice “theme room” hostel, prepared myself for another day of site-seeing, and took in a bit of the night life. I returned to the hostel around two in the morning to find a guy from Spain in my bed. Apparently, he and five of his fellow Spaniards had occupied that half of the room. It took a bit of time to finally come to an agreement as to where I would be sleeping that night, and bit longer until all the commotion stopped and I could finally sleep.
The next morning, I took my time to decide what it was that I wanted to do that day, but once I remembered that I still had to write a summary report for my work, I knew it couldn’t be much. So, I spent the rest of the morning and the early afternoon touring the riverside near the hostel and eating lunch at the Hotel New York (the site from which many of the first Europeans left from to immigrate to America). Rotterdam today reminds me of Shanghai - a port city with a lot of new architecture screaming “look at me”. The rest of the day was spent largely on the computer in the hostel lounge area. Just before I left, I was bombarded with concerns and questions about learning Italian by an Australian guy who assumed I was Italian. That was really unexpected. When I finally returned to my friend’s apartment in Delft, the two of us and her roommate ate KFC and engaged in a discussion about the NHL (don’t ask).
The next day, I got up at eight to finally go to TU Delft – one of Europe’s most reputable technical universities and the main reason I wanted to come to the Netherlands in the first place. It had been raining since I came to the Netherlands, but this was the first day that there was snow on the ground. I toured the Industrial Design Engineering faculty on my own and talked to the International Students Advisor. If I wasn’t supposed to be in an MBA program, then this is where is should have been. TU Delft also has the same masters program as Milan, but in opinion, of a much higher level.
Feeling a bit disappointed with my decision to study in Milan, apart from the many other bad decisions I had made on my journey, I walked to the bus stop ready to leave. It was there that I met a Greek girl who couldn’t stop smiling. It was so strange to meet her then. Not saying much, apart from answering whatever questions she asked of me, I was taken by surprise by a seemingly innocent statement, “Wow, you are lucky to see snow in the Netherlands”. I smiled and the bus arrived soon after that.
I boarded a train bound for Eindhoven about half an hour later and arrived in the central Netherlands city an hour and a half after that. There I met another student from the Netherlands that I had originally met through the publishing of “The Possibility of Shanghai”. He took me on a short tour of his university and later shared our stories of academia, business and China in the city center. It was great to finally meet him. In the evening, I made it to my last hostel of this trip.
The next day, I got up as early as I could, did a bit of work on the computer, had my breakfast, and started the last leg of my Easter journey. After missing a bus, getting on the wrong train and getting caught between a closing door, I was on my way to Aachen, Germany to look at one last university before taking the night train back to Milan.
Aachen, as I discovered, is not just a “university town”, it IS a university. While there is a sort of a central campus and main building, the various departments and their respective buildings are all over the city. Finding out where the design department was, was a challenge in itself, but I made it there an hour before closing time and had whatever questions I had answered. Another road not taken, but in this case, I think it’s better I didn’t. I left Aachen that evening on the night train.
When I arrived in Milan the next morning, it was Thursday and I was a day late for our class’ new workshop, but on-time for a new semester of Italian classes (I jumped one level. Woo-hoo!). Returning to the apartment was like seeing, to use the earlier metaphor, the remains of a volcanic eruption.
Fortunately, the last weekend of March saw a lot of restocking and renewing for Spring. The park in Affori had a display of hand-made children games and a horse riding event. The weather was warm, and the normally quiet town atmosphere had changed into that of a street market and fair. It was nice way to welcome the season. In the evening, I made dinner for my roommates and a friend.
Thanks to one of my Lativan roommates, and an evening of alcohol and “ambience” music last Wednesday, a fragile peace has since been established between my Chilean roommate and I. I hope it lasts. On the Thursday, our other Latvian roommate came back from her trip to Latvia, and we all spent the day cleaning the apartment from top to bottom. What an effort and way to reconnect.
The past week was also a lot of organizing for work (I’m now officially in the “just get those sketches done” phase. My Chilean roommate has offered to help me with concept development, as he wants me to become a “real designer” among other things.), school (This new workshop has proved to be a bit of let down despite the high-caliber firm we are supposed to be doing work for. Eg. Last Friday’s class ended with a false promise that the company would be giving a short presentation, and was instead some guy selling yoga classes. Yeah, I know. On the plus side, my group seems to be working well together despite the abstract criteria we’ve been given on which to base our work. I feel like I’m learning a lot from them, once again. This time the lessons are mostly in effective communication and proactivity.), and my next trip: Paris.