A Very Weird Place

Orientation week was a complete cluster, especially since I realized that 1) in order to heat up food, a microwave is convenient, and 2) I haven't had to sit and listen to people lecture from 8am to 5pm since junior year of high school. Oh, how I miss "lecture capture" in med school and "just not going to class" in college. Plus, Friday night I had to fly back to Chapel Hill for the amazing Klein/Zeitler wedding extravaganza. However, not lost in the week's events was the realization that the whole concept of "normal" has changed since stepping on campus, and it's a little ridiculous.

One of my first encounters with my fellow classmates began with me being kinda creepy (per usual). My class, which is approximately 225 students, was milling around outside in the quad, when I eavesdropped on a few people discussing an upcoming dinner function at the Center of Public Leadership (CPL). Since I assumed these were members of the CPL Fellowships (see CPL Fellows here), I inserted myself into the conversation. This was at a significant risk, since I was already tired of the "30 second" intro bio that each conversation began with. Oh, hey there! My name is (fill in the blank). Where are you from? Oh cool, what did you do before coming here? Me too! Welp, onto the next person... But I went ahead and went through this exercise again, and I was pretty much stunned.

Of the four individuals I met, two were a joint MBA/MPP (Masters of Business Administration / Masters of Public Policy) here, another was doing a concurrent degree at HLS (Harvard Law School), and the fourth was on the same track as I am at Yale Medical School. We easily lapsed into conversations about CPL, how the different degrees worked, whether Law was harder than Medicine (no question Law is way harder, with few job prospects), and of course, whether we should pay college football players a yearly stipend. That's all well and good, and I was excited to talk with people on similar flight plans, but I had to take a step back. This is freakishly not normal. Who signs up for these sick, perverse, tortuous life tracks where they sign up for like six different degrees. Lunatics. It's just not normal. And then I realize that I'm just as sick and perverse as the rest of them... and we'll probably be friends.

It is fascinating though, and a unique skill set. People talk about the intersection of business and government, or law and government (the HLS/MPP student was also Rhodes Scholar at Oxford; even more nauseating, but he's very chill). It's a very interesting perspective, and I look forward to watching the careers of these individuals progress, as well as writing bios of them on this blog.

So overall it was a fun week. I discovered that I'm not a hard-nosed negotiator during one of our "mock" classroom exercises. (I got swindled out of massive amounts of fake money because I've become a fluffy-softy doctor-in-training over in fluffy-softy Asheville.). And then later we all had our chance to introduce ourselves to the other 224 students, during which I may not have gotten off to the best start...

In my defense, it's not really my fault. I guess everyone would say that though. So (pause for effect), there is a tradition here at the program in which all students of the program must take 15 seconds to get up on stage, in front of everyone and a microphone, and say whatever they want. Most people introduce themselves, often with a funny spin. This, however, was NOT how I believe it was explained to my cohort. I was told that we had 15 seconds to "do whatever we wanted" in front of the class. Now what does that mean? To be honest, introducing myself didn't even cross my mind. I thought people were going to perform talents. Why not belch the national anthem? Hula-hoop and baton twirl, or maybe Irish dance? Who knows. The point is, I was misled, and thus woefully disadvantaged.

By now, everyone has heard of the "Gangham Style" dance. If you haven't, it's here, but you must have been hiding under a rock for the past month otherwise. At the time of this posting, it has 160 million hits in about two months. So I decided that since I couldn't think of any 15 second talents, I would just say, "Hi, I'm Robert, and I've always wanted to do this." Then I would just go for it.

I was scheduled to "introduce" myself about midway through the incoming class. But after about the first 50 people or so, I realized NO ONE was dancing/burping/hula-hooping, etc. However, I hadn't prepared a witty introduction. I was stuck. So I stood up, said what's up, threw on the Sunnies and danced my ass off. Exit stage right to a very confused group of spectating nerds. In retrospect, I just hope there was at least one person in the whole audience who knew what I was doing (or does now). Fortunately, I do think I got a few sympathetic cheers.

Ooopa Gangham style. Heeeeeeeeeey, sexy laaady!

NB: It's always good when your Mother tells you after the fact, "I think you were about 2 weeks too early on that joke, sonny boy..."

First Day of School... Again. Oh, and Again.

Two things. First, I realize it has been a while since my last post, but I will do some backtracking to catch up on three weeks of an (OMG) amazing vacation. Second, I want to assure you that I PROMISE in shouty capitals that this will be my last "first day of school"... for at least a decade. At some point I am going to get tired of accruing letters after my name, and I will give up. So again, I promise. This is it. Fin.

Now, unlike medical school, this truly had the feel of going back to college. Pops and I packed up the Budget truck, and settled in for a nice nine hour drive to Boston. We chatted, listened to Economics lectures, meandered through Princeton, New Jersey ("Are you sure you just don't want me to drop you off here?!"), finally parking the truck right outside my dormitory. And yes, I do mean "dormitory." I currently live in a seven story edifice that, for all intents and purposes, is a college dorm. Long hallways with doors line each side, laundry facilities in the basement, and people who insist on taking the elevator from the second floor down to the first. To my knowledge, there are only three major differences:

• I don't share a bathroom. My "dorm room" is a studio apartment that is actually relatively spacious. Do I miss sharing the commode with seven other dudes? Not really.
• There are little children everywhere. I'm basically living on the Harvard (Pops, did it take me more than 30 seconds to drop the H-bomb? I hope so...) Business School campus - aka "Cambridge Country Club" - and I am living in one of the "family friendly" apartment buildings. There is a daycare on the bottom floor. Don't remember that in Carmichael dormitory. Bedtime here is at 1600.
• The annoying RAs are gone. And yes, I mean you, Christopher in 415. I don't answer to NOBODY! It's a good thing too. The last RA who tried to impose his will on 443 Carmichael got the entire floor's worth of furniture propped up against his door. No entry or exit, Christopher. Serves you right for snitchin' on our street sign collection...

Anywho, Pops and I moved us in over the span of two hours, but it will take a couple weeks to settle in. I have a few first impressions of living in this area, none of them positive. First of all, I submit that there is no excuse for obesity in a city. Over the weekend, when I had to search for groceries, classrooms, and essential Target items, I walked/biked at least 157 miles. If you don't believe in cabs (which I don't), then it's basically a biathlon every week. I joined the Cambridge Masters swim team just to make sure I can get in my weekly Iron Man. It's ridiculous.

Also, as Pops and I noticed on the drive up here, the fast food industry is really not doing it's job in the North. When I drive from Chapel Hill to Charlotte down I-85, there is an AVERAGE of 7 different fast food joints per exit. I don't want signs for Dunkin' Donuts (why are there so many up here?!), and I don't want just the option of McDonalds or Wendy's at an exit. We deserve choices for our gluttony. There should be an Arby's, Wendy's, Jack in the Box, Taco Bell, Panda Express, Burger King, the "MacDonalds," Hardy's, Five Guys, and (if you're feeling healthy) a Subway, at every corner. This lack of commitment to winning the obesity award is disheartening.

Other than that, it's not too bad, as long as it stays 85 degrees and sunny. I do miss the oppression of a 105 heat index, but hey, I'll survive. Orientation starts on Monday, and then the real "last-first-day-of-school" will begin.

Costa Rica - Week 2 with the Fam

The best part of our family vacation to Costa Rica was how difficult it was to convince everyone that this would be a great idea. A few months earlier, I decided that I was going to take a vacation in August, status post a grueling third year and prior to school starting up anew in September. I called home and said, "Hey Mom, want to come to Costa Rica with me this summer? I think it would be a blast and I would love to trek around with my favorite mother." She replied, "Ummm, sure." That was all it took. Convincing Pops was even easier. She just bought him a plane ticket without him knowing. Dad didn't find out until weeks later, and by then it was too late to cancel.

"No one told me!"

Well, apparently Mom had asked him whether he'd like to go to Costa Rica some day, since a good family friend had lived there for a year. He replied, "Sure," which apparently meant full-speed-ahead for purchasing tickets. With three-fourths of the family heading to South America, it wasn't hard sell to get Shelley to join the fun.

We hiked a volcano, sat in the wonderful hot springs that the lava naturally created, and Mom took a thousand and one pictures. In typical Swendiman fashion, we opted to save our money and stay away from the tours (Who needs help spotting animals? We're Swendimans!). Apparently, we needed some help. But we found crafty ways of finding rare birds and monkeys without spending any money. On our first hike in Arenal, we latched on to a man who was particularly adept at spotting wildlife in the dense rainforest. We poached him, staying about 25 yards behind him at all times. He had a little boy with him, and we would wait and watch until he pointed something out. Then we would scurry forward and feign surprise that he discovered more fauna. He must have been a certified ornithologist, because the last time I saw a civilian this good was in the Bolivian jungle with Ronnie Milam (who is indeed an ornithological expert - and he has the merit badge to prove it). So in the end we got our pictures... for free.

We saw many monkeys, drunk butterflies, and birds. Many credit card machines were "broken in the storm," but I somehow got them fixed. I cooked fresh fish for the family and drank my bottles of wine. We even adopted a dog.

Scout (pictured above - exhausted after the trek) accompanied us on our climb to the continental divide (a worthless adventure if there ever was one). At the beginning of our climb, this little pup came bounding out to meet us from behind a small house. Just as I bent down to pet the little guy, my family groaned, knowing now he would never leave us (and they were right). In fact, Scout joined us on a long, arduous hike up the mountain, through hundreds of switchbacks, fending off millions of bees that ultimately prevented half the family from making it to the top. He found his own water, and playfully pushed the stragglers forward. But we made it, and Scout accompanied us the whole way down also. Apparently it was his daily exercise, because just as we got back to the little house where we found him, he left our group for greener pastures. That's certainly one way to get attention. I miss the little guy.

Back home, and back to reality. Boston awaits!

Costa Rican Credit Card Machines

I arrived in Manuel Antonio in the rain. I realize it is the rainy season, but I specifically went to the west coast of Costa Rica to avoid Ernesto. Nevertheless, Katie and I trekked in our "private" van across the countryside to this quaint little beach town. I just hoped it wouldn't rain all week...

To my pleasant surprise, I woke up to the weather pictured left, i.e. picture-perfect! Our very nice (English-speaking) manager at Hotel Mandarina assured us that the weather would be beautiful in the mornings and early afternoons, and then the skies would cloud over in the late afternoon / evening. Thunderstorms would reign the night. In fact, our little lady was proved wrong, as it turned out to be sunny almost every single day! It didn't rain again until we headed back to the capital city. So we checked in at Hotel Mandarina, paid cash (since the credit card machine was "broken"), and got to vacationing!

After seeing the crocodiles and walking the beach, it was time for scuba. Katie wasn't certified, and I was ready to hop back in the ocean after exploring the Great Barrier Reef off the coast of Australia. This turned out to be a huge disappointment. Besides getting unbelievably sea-sick on the first day (it takes a while to get sea-legs back), the visibility was terrible. The divemaster suggested that during the dry season the conditions are better, but he seemed to be pretty okay with what we saw. A couple turtles and lobsters scuttled about, but the biodiversity was fairly poor, and the visibility was worse. My recommendation: stick to the beaches in Costa Rica. There's a reason why there is only one dive shop in Manuel Antonio.

But I really shouldn't complain. This was such a wonderful break from a grueling third year of med school. The coffee was divine, we climbed an active volcano and watched it spew lava, and we ate delicious delicious food everywhere we went (fish tacos on the strip by the hotel are a must!). It was annoying that prices were almost equivalent to America (don't head to CR if you think you'll be paying South America prices - unless you really get off the beaten path, know a lot of Spanish, and aren't pasty). But it was still worth it. My parents were coming in town the next week, so it was nice having a heads up on certain issues... like credit card machines.

Within the first few days, I experienced an interesting trend. A lot of merchants' credit card machines seemed to be "out of order." I would try to pay with a card, and the server or store-owner would run it, but then he/she would tell me the machine had been acting up. Do you have cash? At first I just handed them the colones, but I realized that I was running out of currency quickly. Then we went to a restaurant where we saw one of the locals pay with a credit card, but mine mysteriously didn't work. I discovered that a lot of merchants don't want to pay the taxes or leave a paper trail, and they know that foreigners tend to have lots of cash on them. Thus, their machines "break" when a foreign card gets swiped. Interesting. Funny how when I said I didn't have any cash on me, and then tried to walk out, the machine magically started working again...

Ernesto, You Bastard

I don't know if you can zoom in on the graphic here to the left, but if you could, you would see that Ernesto is barreling toward the very island in Belize on which I was planning my holiday. The weather forecast for the country is 100 percent chance of rain, for every hour, of every day, for the next three weeks. Basically this is no bueno for diving, and super no bueno for Roberto. I think I must be being punished for my last post ("Doing Nothing"), for my sloth and lethargy. Typical. Welcome to the beginning of vacation.

After about 24 hours of complete and utter frustration, I am now calm, and I have a plan. People were warning me of said swirling storm, but I paid little attention. It was not until I saw that the government was shutting down one of the other islands (called cayes) that I emailed my hotel to see if I should even make the trek - or if should I find a Plan B. Within the hour I had a very pleasant note in broken English stating that all was well and the skies were muy bonito. Come on down! We look forward to having you! About an hour after that, however, I received a shorter note that said, "I think you should find a Plan B." Panic mode. Minutes later I'm on the phone with Taca Airlines (they also were very confused about why I would want to change my flight... Why?! Because there is a frickin' hurricane ripping through the country!!). Bottom line is even if I showed up at the airport, all they would do is get me on the next available flight to Belize. Again, no bueno.

To my relief, I found an out. Apparently when you buy a ticket with Taca, the trip is good for an entire year. I can move the dates and times of my flight for a nominal fee. So, why not just buy a whole new ticket to a different vacation spot, and then plan on going to Belize sometime else during the year? Preferably during the winter when there are no daggum hurricanes in the realm of possibility. Where to go then? Why not head to Costa Rica early before the rest of the family? Done (although I toyed with Aruba and Panama). Tickets bought. Hotel for the first few nights booked - the rest will be TBA. Welcome to Manuel Antonio, Costa Rica! Of course the downside is that now I have to book another trip to Belize within the next 12 months...

Darn.

Other than Ernesto giving me fits, I haven't had much to do since getting back to DC. I've done a bunch of cooking for the fam, watched a lot of SportsCenter, and for the most part, spent time generally catching up on life events. I could totally get used to this. True to form, however, I haven't waited long to schedule my next activity (i.e. vacation). And when I return, I will have just two days to pack the car and drive up to Boston with Pops. I'm excited to shift gears and try something new. I'm less excited to add to the student debt.

Next Post will be from Costa Rica!