Google Trends

I took a break from fighting the unix server this afternoon when Katherine pointed me to Google Trends. Basically, it calculates the number of searches and news citations over time (from 2004) for a keyword or phrase. You can compare the popularity of multiple phrases, and see geographically where they are most popular. Without further ado, here is what I learned from Google Trends:

1. Enchiladas are popular in the US, Mexico...and most of all, Stuttgart, Germany. Anyone have any idea why?


2. Digg has gradually overtaken Slashdot in popularity, and is now even topping the venerable Wall Street Journal.


3. Speaking of internet phenomenon, you can chart the meteoric rise of memes:


4. Google might be bigger than God:


5. But truly surprising, Google might be bigger than sex:

The Great Wall

My mom and uncle just got back from a month-long trip to China. As my mom excitedly told us, they pass out certificates as proof that you expended the effort to climb to the top of the Great Wall. I should ask her what was tougher, the Great Wall or the 161 steps of McGraw Tower.

Among the other things she peppered me with (did you call about wisdom teeth? why didn't you talk to your brother more?!), she mentioned that she felt like she didn't know enough Chinese. (Oy veh, I thought, what does that mean for me?) Mostly, this referred to lack of cultural knowledge. Apparently in Anhui, there is a sophisticated traditional table setting that neatly combines table objects and directional elements that result in a clever wordplay, imparting "lifelong peace and serenity." She also rambled on about some other ancient Chinese texts and customs (leaving a hat at the entrance to indicate the presence of the host), but it was midnight and I was tuning out.

My parents were born and raised in Vietnam, and this was probably my mom's third or so trip to China. That means heritage-wise, we're sort of an unconventional amalgam of SE Asian (probably half the stuff my mom cooks has Viet roots) and Chinese (which is hard to define since the country is ginormous). So where does that leave me, oh hapless chimera of American-Born Chinese Twinkie?

It leaves me wishing I'd had time to take more Chinese at Cornell (probably the best academic decision I made at college), but now that I'm out of undergrad and not working abroad in the foreseeable future, realistically it's not so much an option. Funny how the certificate I got threw up as many hidden barriers as it opened doors.

The Inside Scoop

Jen and I traipsed to Ravinia last night for a Rufus Wainwright concert, and he did not disappoint. Compared to his last performance at Cornell, he was much more flamboyantly gay, which may have explained why he strutted onto the stage wearing lederhosen ("I know, these pants are really tight and kind of uncomfortable...don't ask"), subsequently shimmied into a bathrobe, and at the end, was wearing a rather short skirt (or a long jacket). The rest of the audience also seemed heavily populated by gay and lesbian couples. To top it off, the encore included a Broadway-style dance routine with the rest of the band. Er, scratch that, full orchestra. After all, Rufus travels with the usual accompaniment: percussion, guitar, back-up vocalists, strings, sax, trumpet, french horn, flute...it's lush, it's dramatic, it's popera at its best.

Unfortunately, the concert was somewhat marred by the preceding day's thunderstorms. "Extremely Wet Grounds" announced the signs at the entrance. (If I were still at college, I would have tried stealing one for apartment-decoration purposes.) Or, maybe we were simply being newbies, because we'd forgotten to pack a waterproof dining room set with us. Looking around the lawn, I suddenly realized I'd left at home my plastic tarp, golf chairs, table, china and citronella candles. No matter, I remembered to bring my wine.

In contrast, I grabbed dinner at a Thai place with Joseph tonight, and my jaw nearly dropped when the waitress handed us menus, and then he asked for the secret Thai menu. I mean, those exist?? The food was phenomenal too, reasonably priced and authentic, meaning I would take my parents there. Woot!

The Market is Gyrating

At the risk of losing my veneer of coolness and respectability, I am going to confess: the subprime mortgage tumult in global financial markets makes me really excited.

I know, this is barely on the radar for most people unless you are working on Wall Street, or have been trying to obtain a mortgage. But this is a market crisis on the order of the 97-98 Asian financial crisis, and I'm in a prime (ha!) position to analyze and perhaps even influence what is going on.

In essence, subprime mortgages are those given to borrowers with less than perfect credit. The practice began in 2005 or so, when mortgage brokers began offering adjustable rate mortgages, with low interest rates and payments for the first 2 years, and an adjusted (higher) rate afterwards. Now it is 2007, and in a lovely surprise, families are suddenly finding themselves unable to pay their mortgages.

Just 2 weeks ago, Fed Chairman Bernanke released a statement suggesting the credit woes would not impact the wider economy, and that the market was going through a necessary self-correction. The global markets continued to slide, as lenders and securities tied to subprime mortgages murmured about bankruptcy and default. Ten days later, the Fed reversed course, and in an unusual move, cut the discount rate at which banks loan money to each other. It's becoming clear that a few risky mortgages are coming to impact financial sectors in unforeseen ways.

Today, I was doing research on asset-backed commercial paper, which is normally the most mundane security instrument out there, relatively risk-free. Until credit tightens and liquidity dries up, that is. In recent weeks, the yields on CP have risen overnight to 6-year highs. Here's an introduction to what commercial paper is exactly:

A: Can I borrow $10 till tomorrow?
B: Sure.
A: I'm good for it, you know.
B: But you're not earning any money tomorrow, how will you pay me back?
A: Oh, there's lots of liquidity at the short end of the yield curve.
B: In English, please?
A: You're going to lend it to me.
B: Lend what to you?
A: The $10 I need to pay you back.
B: Ah.

In other words, this is the kind of scheme that will work until it doesn't. CP is safe because investments mature quickly (say, tomorrow), but issuers must be able to roll over debt by borrowing what they owe. Thus, CP yields have increased to premium levels in order to attract skittish buyers.

I did some work and gave my results to Rich, who will be talking to Chicago Fed president Moscow tomorrow morning, who will be giving Bernanke an earful at the next FOMC meeting. So there, I like to think I've done my part to contribute to history.

"Ithaca Joe"

He grew up on a Vermont dairy farm, spent senior year of high school at the Walden Project, and is an avid hiker/mountain biker/rock climber.

He’s a drummer, has an encyclopedic knowledge of every jazz show going on around town, and burned about 1,500 jazz albums from the Middlebury library back in high school.

He appreciates food and takes pride in cooking. Sauce from scratch? I haven’t even gotten around to doing that. Yesterday, he picked up saffron. (This stuff is crazy expensive, one time Scott and I tried to calculate if saffron powder was more expensive than cocaine.) He also knows the ins and outs of all the hole-in-the-wall ethnic restaurants around town. “There’s this amazing Yucatan/Mayan place at 5400 west…ok, it’s an extra 8 miles out of your way, but you can bike there easily…”

He’s well-read, recognized my Strand bag, and didn’t recognize Lost or 24.

He also has no college degree, and has a “gig” at a bike taxi place that will last until the end of the summer. After that, he might take a trip to the Grand Canyon (one of his friends works the white-water rafting down there), or S. America (another friend is planning a 3-month trip to Chile). You know, whichever way the wind blows; he’s a free spirit.

I don’t know what’s going on.

We’re making dinner on Sunday.

By popular demand

Last Friday, the Feddies decided to take a trip to Ravinia to see Fiona Apple & Nickel Creek in concert. I had actually heard both of them beforehand, and had even seen Fiona in concert before. (Muchos gracias to MF & the Splashers for dragging me to Jones Beach last summer.) This time, I was a seasoned veteran, meaning Ana and I were the obnoxious ones singing along to the music while everyone else ignored us. The two bands also played together, and Fiona Apple backed by a bluegrass & strings band was surprisingly effective.

Music aside though, the Ravinia lawn is quite a time even if you are clueless about the artist. Similar to the Tanglewood lawn, people bring in booze and picnic baskets and set up shop all over the grass. We brought in lots of bread, cheese and dip (I made pesto the night before), 3 bottles of wine and a lot of beer. Pretty tame, really, as Luis was saying last time, there had been 2 more bottles of wine than there were people. By the end of the night, everyone was pleasantly festive (or maybe somewhat belligerent).

I’ll be back next weekend for Rufus Wainwright. The Rufus/Guster concert at Cornell a few years ago ranks as one of my favorite shows of all time, so hopefully this will live up to that.

Afterwards, we somehow landed at a U of Chicago house party. It was actually pretty happenin’, as in not where fun goes to die. So happening, that by the end of the night, Britton and I landed the unruly task of walking a not-walking Haley home. Have you ever been cab-rejected before?? I hailed two cabs and they slowed to pick us up, then drove off when they saw Haley and thought she was going to be sick. Finally, the third cab I hailed took pity on us and we managed to get her home. Thank god Britton was there to take charge, because I wouldn’t have known what to do, having never really dealt with drunk people before…Britton: “Well, I’d say welcome to college, but you’re already out, so…” Oh 209, we only got good at being college during the month of May. :p

I spent the next morning grabbing dimsum and wandering around the loop with Alex, who was visiting from Missouri (where?). Whoa, Cornell people, in the flesh! It all seems so far removed from where I am and what I’m doing now. And tomorrow is the first day of freshman orientation, and Sunday will be First Night and drumline won’t be at my apt this year…all right, I’ll stop tearing up. Especially since now I know where to find 2-liter beers in glass boots. That's right, we ended up in the German Square of Lincoln Park at the Chicago Brauhaus. Apparently it is humanly possible, though not enjoyable, to down an entire boot in 7 min (not that I tried).

For good measure, I popped into the Organization for Chinese Americans (OCA) picnic on Sun afternoon. There wasn’t clear signage, so I wandered around the back of the house in question to see a roasted pig with an apple in its mouth. Aha, I thought, I have officially arrived. The next test was how much Mandarin I could spit out/comprehend. Sigh, 2 semesters of Chinese later, I still have a ways to go. One of the girls I met was gently correcting my accent. (ouch!) It’s ok, I forgive her, and we’re going salsa dancing this weekend. One of the other interesting people I met was an elderly lady with perfect, unaccented English. As I ogled, someone explained that she was actually born in the US, and her grandparents had immigrated in the late 1800s. Wow, they probably passed through Angel Island or participated in the original gold rush! For all the first generation asian immigrants in this country, I forget that there are 5th generation families as well.

Best car accident EVER

When I decided I was going to start biking, I came across lots of statistics about how biking was really dangerous, then read more statistics which refuted these and maintained biking prevented diabetes, obesity, etc and was much safer than driving or walking. Well, I can now weigh in on this argument with personal experience because last night, I was hit by a cab while biking.

Considering how many times I've biked semi-recklessly through red lights or after drinking, it was kind of ridiculous how many things I was doing right this time. I was wearing a helmet, I had lights on, and I even had the right of way with the crosswalk (the white pedestrian light, not the flashing orange one). I saw the cab on the corner, but apparently he didn't see me, perhaps because he was talking on his cell. I pedaled forward, got hit by the cab and flew off my bike, which got stuck underneath the car. Katherine was with me and immediately thought I was dead. Au contraire, I bounced up from the pavement and spritely announced "I'm fine! I'm FINE!" Aside from some scrapes and bruises, I was feeling pretty good. In fact, I was awesome. It was sort of bizarre how great I felt after the adrenalin rush from being hit, a mix of giddiness at being alive and hubris at being relatively unscathed from a car accident.

Meanwhile, two other bikers had rushed over to the scene to see if I was ok and began yelling at the cab driver. Ah yes, the biker community at work! One guy was telling me I had to get the cabbie's plates, insurance info, etc, while telling him it was entirely his fault and he was a terrible person. Basically, it was the pent-up ire of cycling community towards cabs directed at this one driver. In his defense, he wasn't trying to run away and was making a reasonable attempt to give me all his insurance info, but there was just no way he could redeem himself at this point.

Cab Driver: Ok, here's all my contact information. Now, can I have yours?
Biker Guy: She doesn't have to give you any information at all!
Cab Driver: But look, I thought it was a fair trade! My info for yours!
Biker Guy: No, it's entirely up to you, but you don't have to release anything if you don't want to!
Me: Uhh...

Simultaneously, the other biker had cornered Katherine and was muttering under his breath about "all those damn Indian cab drivers. Look, they're all Indian! They wear the same shirt, every day! Seriously, what are they even doing in this country?" Some of this may have been promoted by the alcohol on his breath. Did I mention the cabbie wasn't even Indian? Katherine: "Um yeah, can I please just go tend to my injured friend? Thanks."

After the cabbie left, yon helpful biker dude gave me his number in case I needed a witness for claims. He also pointed us to a nearby bike shop, since my bike was not exactly ridable at this point. "Tell them Liam sent you," he said. So, we trudged over and hesitantly approached the counter. I explained that I'd been hit by a cab and name dropped, and it worked like a charm. The girl immediately grabbed someone and had them look at my front wheel. The bike is now in moving condition, but making lots of ominous noises, so I'm bringing it in to a mechanic later today.

By now, we were kind of in the mood to head home. Or, I still felt like I could run a marathon, but it was getting late. Somehow, despite our attempts to leave, we were getting lost amidst the paths around Navy Pier and kept coming back to the same Intersection of Death. Let me also point out that the chivalrous biker dude was working for Bike Chicago, so he was hanging out on the same street corner outside. On the third pass, we decided to just stop and ask for directions, and he asked if I was into jazz because there was a show on Tues night, and if I wanted more details I could call/text him. That's right, in one night, I was hit AND hit on.

Let me go dig up my hemp bag and patchwork skirt...

omg frenz

I really, really miss my Cornell kids.

Don't get me wrong, I've met some great people at the Fed, through friends of friends, on street corners, etc. Actually, the AEs are probably a lot more cohesive than many other work groups, since so many of us are transplants to the area and want to meet people. And there are lots of diverse, talented people among the AE bunch.

Still, sometimes I can't help thinking how different my friends from college are, friendships I've sought out and chosen to maintain, rather than being a matter of convenience. Suffice it to say that I would much rather go to a Karaoke Revolution & fried ice cream party than hang out at the hipster club with subtitled films playing in the background.

I have yet to find someone I can drag along to really crazy ethnic restaurants. (Remember that time 209 got Indian food? No, that other time?)

At the moment, I'm even kind of bored with drinking. (Gee, I guess that phase lasted all of a month.)

Anyway, check out the Mad World video for my sufficiently emo post. If I ever finish that arrangement of Mad World on chimes, I have this vision of people making similar formations on Ho Plaza while the song is played.

(I'm wicked tired. Good parts of weekend to be highlighted later.)

Fed $hred$

Since I started work exactly 4 weeks ago, they decided to finally give us an orientation today. The bulk of the morning was spent watching cheesy videos on how to recognize sexual harassment (“Your performance review is this afternoon…why don’t you come to my office in 20 minutes to review me?”) and other mundane lectures on benefits and ethics. Apparently, we are barred from trading in financial securities, not that I have a portfolio. So much for that J.P. Morgan stock.

The more entertaining segment was the Fed money museum and building tour. Most of the exhibits focused on (you guessed it) money, and you can have your picture taken next to a suitcase filled with a million dollars! Or, you can battle inflation by playing the monetary policy game. The rare and historical bills collection includes a “Grand Watermelon” bill, so named because the zeros are shaped like watermelons. Although the face value is a thousand dollars, one was sold to a collector earlier this year for over $2 million.

We also took a peek at the cash processing department, where cash is offloaded from armored cars, catalogued by inspectors, examined for counterfeits, and unfit bills are taken out of circulation and shredded. The more modern Fed branches use automated robots and carts to access their vaults, which reminded me a lot of Gringotts (from Harry Potter). Around $13 billion is stored at this branch, on pallets like any other warehouse. It’s funny to think that people joke about having a license to print money, and well, we have one. Interestingly, there has never been a known break-in or attempted burglary of a Federal Reserve Bank.

At the end, I was handed a souvenir briquette of shredded currency, containing around 200 bills worth about $2,158 per inch. The ink used to print money contains heavy metals; rather than burning it, bills are shredded. Let me know if you think you can piece it all back together…

Book Sales, Hipsters and Bells - oh my!

Last weekend, the Newberry Library was having a used book sale. Since I have fond memories of the Ithaca Book Sale (walking out with a dozen books after paying $3), I dragged Katherine along with me to do some perusing.

The Newberry Library is apparently a private library, with circulation and membership cards separate from the Chicago Public Library system. I was suitably impressed that someone was rich enough to cobble together a library of this size, but I can't imagine how they'd compete effectively against the vast CPL system. At any rate, the sale was decently large, scattered through a series of rooms on the first floor. Of course, the pickings weren't nearly as plentiful (or cheap) (or well-organized) as the Ithaca book sale. Mad props to Ith for hosting the 3rd largest book sale in the country, twice a year. I walked away with a few books (Flatland and Pride & Prejudice among them) and Katherine bought a charming (?) book on "Oriental Cooking" from the 60s, where msg is listed as "1 tsp Ac'cent" and there are chapters on cuisines from non-existent countries like Indochina and Burma.

The same weekend, Katherine's friend Warren decided to come visit because it is painful to exist in Iowa. Let's review Warren: he plays WoW, loves all things internet meme-related, watches Naruto, has a great falsetto and insanely good memory for pop music lyrics, and probably writes fanfic. That's right, I have found my substitute Whaley. This is fantastic, since I've already found my replacement Scott.

We spent some time bumming around Ukrainian Village at a hipster bar and hipster club. Chicago neighborhoods tend to range on a sliding hipness scale which I will define as follows:

Ethnic (predominantly Mexican, Chinese, etc) ---> Hipster (damn pretentious white people start to gentrify the neighborhod and raise rents) ---> Yuppie (fratty, makes you want to cut yourself)

Ukie Village definitely falls in the hipster category, with a nice juxtaposition of Eastern European folks with no teeth and guys wearing tight jeans and shirts smaller than the one I'm wearing. (Actually, that last bit was rather disturbing.) Walking into the Rainbo Club, I was a little concerned about my collared shirt. It was about as egregious a mistake as the time I accidentally wore orange to the Princeton hockey game.

Why has no one told me about the cinematic wonder that is Wayne's World, especially since it is based in Chicago?

On Sun night, I ventured to U of Chicago campus for the first time. They are doing a major renovation of their carillon, much like the "silent year" Cornell's tower had in 98-99, so I wanted to catch the last concert of their summer concert series. Wylie was playing, and I'm always impressed at how down to earth he is, given that he's kind of a big deal, president of the World Carillon Federation and all. I toured Rockefeller Chapel, watched the concert from the playing cabin, and then grabbed dinner (free beer & pizza on Chicago's dime!) with the U of C contingent. It was nice to see familiar faces from GCNA, and Lieve's husband is hilarious and quite Belgian. I think I need to drag them out of Hyde Park for dinner at some point. If only I could remember his name. Also, I have a crazy urge to practice right now.

(Some technical drivel that no one else is probably interested in:) There is a bit of a debate over whether the Rockefeller bells should be retuned during the renovation. Currently, the plans are to move their small, high bells further up so that they have a line of sight to the ground, install a new electronic practice stand, upgrade and standardize the current (rather unwieldy) playing console, install larger clappers, etc. After consulting with Verdin, Watson and other experts, it seems that many of the bells have a unique fourth partial that would be destroyed after retuning, and furthermore, although you can adjust the prime tone, apparently you can't tweak the quint, which would make for strange sounding bells indeed. Thus, it looks like Wylie's leaning towards simply not retuning the bells, or if worst comes to worst, recasting replicas of the current bells.