Holiday Syndrome

Holiday Syndrome is a common medical condition where people is more pron to forget things and exercise poor judgement. It impacts the entire population and the only known treatment is work. Take for example, Christmas ( I am not so sure I am allowed to say Christmas anymore,  luckily very few people read this so hopefully I can stay out of trouble ). People make all sort of promises of loving again their mothers and brother is law, to join the gym and or becoming an "influencer" (it is easier than trying to be a rock star, at least you don't have to pretend to have any talent ) . But they immediately forget about all of this within a day or two of having made the promise.

Another very common symptom of the syndrome is confusion. Not remembering exactly what they are suppose to do on the holiday. Picture Halloween as an example, it is now a Carnival instead of an homage to dead people.

And don't forget about Easter, which is now all about hunting chocolate eggs. Maybe It is a way to help kids locate the 12 station of the Cross. I should consult with my local pastor or "chocolatier" for guidance.

Although the most confusing holidays are in the Anglosaxons countries, where they pay respects to Banks. Yes Banks. The Bank holidays are in honor of those who have your money, own your house and rate your life choices (Credit rating is the equivalent of a life sentence ) If that not confusing slavery with adoration I don't know what it is.

Other common symptoms of Holiday syndrome are: falling in love deeply with idiots ( more frequent in women), getting embarrassing tattoos ( studies suggest that Aussies have the highest incidence ) or tennis elbow ( after so many cheers with the beer jars in the beach bar )

But the holiday that confuses people of the most are the Birthdays. I mean, I love celebrating it but what merit one has on it. Shouldn't be a day to honor our Mums that carried us for 9 months ( 8 in my case, I guess I was a nuisance even back then) and suffered giving birth?. Instead we get mad at then if they forget. Seriously there is something wrong with our society values. And I am sure you have someone close to you impacted by the birthdays memory loss where people forget their real age. It is easy to identify as the subject always pretends to have less age than in real life.

Talking about year celebrations, I much prefer the old Spanish way. You know in Spain we love our Fiestas, therefore why celebrating one day a year when we can do twice. That is why we also have the Saint Day. Yes, you celebrate the Day of the Saint you have been named after.

Basically a Saint Day is like a birthday. You get presents, cake, congratulations and so on. In my family was even bigger than the actual birthday. Forgetting about the birthday was not a sin, but if you missed the Saint Day, family will be holding a grudge for sure.

There were that great, that my older brother tried to abuse the system, and since they were several Saints in the calendar with his name, Vincent, 13 different ones to be precised, he claimed that he could celebrate the day 13 times. Growing up I always wonder if naming you kid Vincent will mean setting him up for a life of misery as so many of them were eligible for Sainthood.

So, in order to resolve this family discussion, which trust me, lasted for a few months as my clever brother managed to build a solid argument, our parents come up with this last minute rule that in those cases you had to choose only one Saint, the one you feel more identified with and stick to that one forever. Almost fifty years later, I believe my brother still haven't chosen his Saint.

But Saint day is also a dangerous tradition. Originally you were named after the Saint of the day you were born. And that is like a Russian Roulette, because you cannot believe the weird names that some Saints have. I can imagine some poor mothers holding their breath to delay the labor a few hours to ensure their baby was born with a more pleasant name and avoid the kid a childhood of mockery in school. Hollywood seems to have taken this tradition and given it a new meaning. Instead of naming you kid after the Saint they now name it after the first thing they see in the room, hence the results.

So lessons learnt here. If you go on holidays enjoy them before you forget them and pick a Saint in case you need protection or your name your child after your holiday tattoo artist.

Hallelujah! the engineer is here

In recent years, Hollywood has tried to show us that some of the before considered dull professions could actually be exciting. Fronting that trend, are the lawyers, often portrayed as a mix of Sherlock, James Bond and Casanova. By the way why do they always  have a bottle of whiskey in the office? Is that a thing?

But lawyers are not the only re-invented profession,  recently they even tried to make librarians interesting. There is actually, an action TV show dedicated to them, although this could be actually true, let's face it, who has been in a library in the last 10 years? ( and no, Netflix library does not count)

So, taking the lawyers and librarians out of the equation, that leave us engineers as the single most boring profession on Earth.

And yes I am not going to deny it: an engineering office can be as exciting as a funeral parlor, but don't judge a book by its cover ( sorry for that easy pan, its my jealousy to the now "cool librarians" kicking in).

Engineers may look dull, badly dressed ( I will dedicate a full post about the engineering fashion sense soon) but that make us the perfect cover identity for super-heros. We are the Clark Kens of our time, but since there are no telephone cabins anymore we cannot change into character and that is why people don't see it.

An engineer needs to be ready for any situation. You never what is going to happen. Just because you are an engineer you are suppose to be able to fix anything.

I still remember my College years, with Mum complaining that she was wasting the family money in my University education as I could not fix her washing machine. It was not easy to explain that although the tumble dry program and an aircraft turbine sound more or less the same, there are a few subtle differences. But I must admit she may had a point, and I would probably be making more money being a appliance technician than an engineer, and she could have enjoyed a holiday in the Caribbean with the savings.

Being an engineer is also not that far from being a politician.  You are suppose to provide an answer to any topic they throw at you even if you have no idea. Sorry, I don't know how to explain the Big Bang or why the Jonas brothers split up.

A few years back in one of my multiple trips to South Africa had the opportunity to experience this first hand. I was told I had to do a site visit to an airport the government was keen to show as example of their investment.

So there I was driving several hours cross country to reach this remote idyllic village of Bhisho.

Little I know what was in store for me. When arrived at the airport, a large crowd was outside. Ladies wearing their colorful Sunday dresses and men in their traditional attire. Not your typical welcomed committee. Soon I realized there was no technical site visit but a community day where the entire village was invited to the airport to visit the airport and have a lunch there.

Before I could tell my colleague to leave, we were greeted by the local Bishop and invited to be seated while the local Church Choir was introducing the session with an upbeat African Spiritual Song. At that moment, I resigned to stay and enjoy the experience. Day was already wasted and there was nothing I could do about it so at least I would be getting a good local meal.

But that was not the end of the story. Somebody (Ten years later I am still trying to find the guilty part to plot my revenge) has told the authorities that I was an international renown aviation expert and had to address the crowd ( if they only knew...)

The Tribal leader and the Bishop started their speech in Zulu and suddenly my colleague kick me with her elbow and look at me with a big smile in her face.

"You are to do main speech, the entire village is here for you", she said. Since I was still enjoying in my head the Choir song I didn't fully understand her words. But few seconds later the Tribal leader announced my name and crowd started to cheer in excitement.

I panicked and grabbed my laptop. A laptop is to an engineer like the cape to Superman. It could also be used as a shield if people started to throw thing at me.

During those long 30 meters to the podium I felt like a dead Men Walking. The fact that the Choir decided to go for a soulful song at that moment, didn't help. And while I was asking why me, I was trying to understand what I was suppose to say to the audience. Shall I talk to them about my childhood? How much I like the south african braiis? Should I join the choir and sing?

Despite my shaky legs, I managed to reach the podium and I smiled. Smiling has been always my forte. Shacked the hand of all local authorities and tried to connect my laptop to see if I could use any of my presentations. Pretty pictures always help.

Murphy's law connection didn't work. This is another misunderstanding with engineers. I may know how to design things, but not necessarily how to make them work. Luckily the Choir was quick to lend me a hand and started singing while I was fixing it. There I was, sweating while the crowd was in full Gospel mood.

Song ended ,but laptop had decided to re-start to download some updates. I am small, but not enough to hide of embarrassment behind the podium. Again I was saved when the Bishop waved his hand to the Choir and they started to sign again. Thank God they had a long repertoire as it took me three and a half songs to make it work.

Finally, all technical issues were sorted and I was ready to start talking about the wonders of airport planning to the community when a voice in the crowd shouted Hallelujah!!

Immediately the entire room responded in excitement Hallelujah! ( the engineer is here)

PS. Perhaps if my Mum had more Faith in me, I could work a miracle and fix her washing machine.

Eat Pray Queue

I recently saw, on my last flight, the movie Eat Pray Love, and I must admit, it disappointed much less than expected, maybe because it features Bali one of the places in the world I love the most ( by the way forget the Volcano and go there if you haven't done it yet) but I also must confess that I disagree with several premises of the movie, or to be more specific with all of them.

First one of all, may shock your pre-conceived ideas about the world. But the movie shows it in all its cruelty: Mediterranean food is fattening.

If you have seen the movie, how can anybody forget that dramatic scene in Southern Italy, where the two main females characters are forced to buy a larger size of jeans because of the Italian food. I always wonder why Julia Roberts did not win her second Oscar after the intensity of that moving scene. More powerful than Gone with the Wind. But lets face it, the premise that she comes from the US but she gets fat in Italy is more unbelievable than Javier Bardem trying to portray the caring romantic type.

After watching the movie, doctors around the world are re-writing the recommendations and banning the Mediterranean diet to their patients.

Second premise of the movie is that you go to Bali to find love. That is really hilarious unless you like Balinese people of course, one of the most beautiful souls in the World, inside and outside. But lets face it, apart from amazing locals, beautiful beaches, landscapes, food and of course tons of temples, the main thing you find in Bali is tourist in tank tops and who can fall in love with that.

Tank top is that piece of clothing that some men believe is as sexy and revolutionary as Mary Quant's Short Skirt was in the 60s. It has done more damage to the image of Bali than the over-development and anarchic construction. I believe the local government is considering a Tank Top tax to dissuade Aussies ( sorry for the typo, I meant users) and protect the environment.

The final premise of the movie is that you go to India for its mystical allure. My humble ( and not so humble ) opinion is that you have not experienced India essence till you have been on a queue. Forget about the Secret Temples and their Mantras, the Taj Majal , the beaches of Goa, the mountains of Ranchi or the amazing food. Queuing is were you will have that intimate mystical experience that the hordes of millennial tourists desperate seek when in India.

And by intimate , I mean literally. I believe my next house will be a tiny home after I survived the lack of personal space in my last few queues at the airport.

Queues are underrated. You can say a lot about a country by observing their queues. In Singapore people respect the line religiously aligning themselves to the markings on the floor ( no explanation needed). In Spain, people are required to ask who is the last one in the queue when entering a shop, otherwise your actual presence will not be considered sufficient evidence at the trial and right to order at the counter will be withdrew. If you thought Inquisition was tough, try entering a queuing dispute in Spain. It is more risky than introducing a new ingredient to a Paella dish. Ask poor Jamie Oliver about it ( check this link if you don't believe me )

The Indian case is worth an anthropological study. Indian people are polite and friendly by nature, and yet when it comes to queuing not even a century of British rule can calm their basic instincts. In the land were arranged marriages used to be a norm , your queuing partner will stick to you ( literally ) till your reach your destination.

He will be  "coaching"  you through the experience ( for those who does not know what coaching is, it is what any parent or good friends normally do when you need advice, but for people who basically don't have any friends).

Your queuing coach will help you navigate the intricate paths of Indian queuing and will teach valuable life lessons, the most important of all: a plastic tray at an airport security queue is the most valuable commodity. It is like the Hand that Rocks the Cradle. Whoever grabs it first, rules the world (or at least the queue).

So, a few lessons learnt today, if you want to eat healthy go to the McDonald, save some money to buy t-shirts with sleeves, and and pray to get a nice companion in your next queue in India.