.
Thursday.
Just a few hours before dawn and I am back to one of my wonderings through Lisbon.
It’s amazing the amount of life one can witness at the Lisbon’s airport around 4 am.
Granted that Lisbon is not a very active city during nighttime. There are no libraries where one can ease his hunger for a particular book, or a theatre that shows movies all night long, or an all-nighter video club to replace those old VHS tapes in the old Sony VCR.
Here, nightlife is usually associated, with going out towards bars or discos.
There you can enjoy a night out with friends either by: getting loaded; watching others getting fully drunk; scream your head off while competing with the musical selections of the DJ, in an attempt to get a simple “hello” message to reach your friend, who is just there on the other side of the table.
There is a group of people, however, who need some place to study, to read a book, to enjoy a coffee with a friend while talking at a very common low level, without forcing those precious vocal cords.
Lisbon’s airport has an all-nighter coffee shop called “Astrolabio”, where you can do this and more.
Late January is a crucial time for College and University studies, with the final exams and report’s deadlines coming; there is a great demand for a quiet place to study. There is a group of people who, like me, enjoy the magic of the night to dwell with the challenges of a report or the wild preparation for whatever an exam has in stored for us.
Last night, I entertain myself with the lovely conversation with a friend of mine, about the supposed meaning of life had for us. Meanwhile, I could not resist contemplating those eager minds, who defied the night’s rest at Astrolabio. In front of me, a group of hectic pens copied notes from History books; on the table at my left some game cards served as a distraction to a group of four youngsters who apparently had enough of the precious knowledge closed in their books.
Walking through the airport at 4.00 am is always fun, you get to see people from all over the world, even from Lisbon apparently. There are always those who find that the floor of the airport is very suited to a night’s rest, apparently it all depends on the sleeping bag’s quality.
By 4.30 am, I could watch a group of frenetic Japanese walking to the KLM check-in line, to catch their 5.50 am flight towards Amesterdam. What the heck makes a group of Japanese people get out of bed at 3.30 am to take a plane towards Amsterdam departing from Lisbon at such an early hour in the morning? I guess it’s those little doubts that make life so great in the process of wondering about it.
Obviously, one of my favourite pastimes is to gaze at the timetable for the day’s flights, and then imagine some preferred destinations.
Hmm… Maybe I could catch that first KLM plane, flight nr. KL1692, and then take a nice bicycle ride through the streets of Amsterdam, gazing at the tulips, or even enjoying the windmills as if I was a commoner of the city for ages! Who knows where would a lovely stroll through the streets of Rome take me, after a soft landing from TAP’s flight nr. TP5230, scheduled to depart at 7.50 am. I think, I am ready to embrace Barcelona with all its splendour, starting with a nice window perspective from the plane in flight TP5732. No, I guess I can wait for the noon and take flight nr. RG8707, from Varig, heading to Rio de Janeiro in Brazil. Ah sweet Brazil, I guess I can see me now getting lost in those beaches from paradise. (Oh, you dirty minds!!!)
For all that is worth, I think that even if I don’t go anywhere, it is always a pleasure to wonder about some possible destiny in my life, in that timeless gaze at the timetable.
It’s 5.00 am, in Lisbon’s airport and I feel a sort of freedom, the kind that makes me want to flight to the moon and back, for as long as a flight like that may take, even a year, or a split second.
Frankly, I don’t care. I just went to the airport to see nightlife in a way I don’t get to see anywhere.
One day, someone will be standing at Astrolabio, gazing at me, as I am hectically rushing towards the check-in line, while that someone is wondering “where is that stranger going?”; “what will he be doing?”.
Possibly, I might look back and reply: “I don’t know, I just got fed up of looking at all those planes leave, and feeling left behind. Today, I am going somewhere, just because I can!”
cocasman@zmail.pt
Friday, January 30, 2004
Monday, January 19, 2004
The memories I bring from Electa
.
For the first time, a year ago, I was setting foot at Electa Hall.
Carrying my luggage, to the room 300, that expected me, I stumbled upon a young sleepwalker, as I surprised him with my arrival. Adam James Langton was suddenly kicked back into reality, after a few hours a rest that followed a very hectic night, as he later described me.
It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship, a truly life-jacket kind of a person who helped me realize some aspects of my reality, by sharing me some details of his own.
Electa Hall was composed of two buildings – Main and Annex. Main had 3 floors and a basement, while Annex had 6 floors. I was in Main. My room had a lovely view, towards University Avenue, Leddy Library, Assumption Church, Law School, a bit of the Ambassador Bridge, a bus stop, a set of stairs and a flag pole with the Canadian Flag.
Electa had everything I needed, a kitchen, bathrooms, laundry and several entertainment lounges. Most of all, Electa had people, who at some point of my 3 month stay, become my friends, some more than others.
David Stemp – a true giant in the city of friends, and in my opinion, one of the favourites to get the Award for Outstanding achievement in the field of friendship.
Bob Steele – a humorous person I know using the less number of words possible, a shy to some, a kind friend to those blessed enough to see it.
Hakeem Matti – the Eire-man who lived in Windsor, but that was kind to share with me my last resting place in Windsor.
Doran – the Russian who came from Vancouver. He might look harmless, but he has the mind of a twisted genius of crime that is living undercover.
Kaegan Walsh – a violent words pacifist, who did wonderful impressions of Goldfinger while playing chess with me. To many he was misunderstood, however I think of him as a good friend, who has many hidden talents, hopefully not for long.
Adam Langton – already mentioned, deserves all the best the world can offer him, even if he represents all the emotions that linger in a human being. A creative writer with a touch of magician; a unique rival in chess, as he both tied in 5 victories each and a draw during a series of 11 long games we had at Electa’s room 300!
I could try and find more things to say about all these persons and more.
For instance, I remember the heating man, who came to my room to fix my heater and was desperately in need of a friendly conversation. He rumbled on about his loving wife, his daughters, his depression, the fears he had that overcome him, the trip he was planning to have to Paris with the family but which scared him immensely.
Or the Janitor in a different building, who came from the Philippines over 20 years ago, who had a brother in California, and some Portuguese friends in a community in Leamington.
My experience has a foreigner in a strange land was very rewarding; it showed me that there are good people and bad people everywhere. That humanity thrives on perfection while dwelling in it’s on common imperfections.
The world is a beautiful place, for all to live in. I said this before, but to this I add that the world become ugly when all of us forget our place in it and develop a sense of blaming someone else in the process.
Electa was a home to me in the winter of 2003; it was a place where I laughed, I cried, I watched TV, I listen to music, I talked to friends, I did my laundry. I discovered a bit of my independency there in those rooms and hallways, that continuously was the stage for each of us to be the character we wanted to be.
I left Electa for good, but I brought a wonderful load of memories and a group of good friends. In the End, that is all that matters.
cocasman@zmail.pt
For the first time, a year ago, I was setting foot at Electa Hall.
Carrying my luggage, to the room 300, that expected me, I stumbled upon a young sleepwalker, as I surprised him with my arrival. Adam James Langton was suddenly kicked back into reality, after a few hours a rest that followed a very hectic night, as he later described me.
It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship, a truly life-jacket kind of a person who helped me realize some aspects of my reality, by sharing me some details of his own.
Electa Hall was composed of two buildings – Main and Annex. Main had 3 floors and a basement, while Annex had 6 floors. I was in Main. My room had a lovely view, towards University Avenue, Leddy Library, Assumption Church, Law School, a bit of the Ambassador Bridge, a bus stop, a set of stairs and a flag pole with the Canadian Flag.
Electa had everything I needed, a kitchen, bathrooms, laundry and several entertainment lounges. Most of all, Electa had people, who at some point of my 3 month stay, become my friends, some more than others.
David Stemp – a true giant in the city of friends, and in my opinion, one of the favourites to get the Award for Outstanding achievement in the field of friendship.
Bob Steele – a humorous person I know using the less number of words possible, a shy to some, a kind friend to those blessed enough to see it.
Hakeem Matti – the Eire-man who lived in Windsor, but that was kind to share with me my last resting place in Windsor.
Doran – the Russian who came from Vancouver. He might look harmless, but he has the mind of a twisted genius of crime that is living undercover.
Kaegan Walsh – a violent words pacifist, who did wonderful impressions of Goldfinger while playing chess with me. To many he was misunderstood, however I think of him as a good friend, who has many hidden talents, hopefully not for long.
Adam Langton – already mentioned, deserves all the best the world can offer him, even if he represents all the emotions that linger in a human being. A creative writer with a touch of magician; a unique rival in chess, as he both tied in 5 victories each and a draw during a series of 11 long games we had at Electa’s room 300!
I could try and find more things to say about all these persons and more.
For instance, I remember the heating man, who came to my room to fix my heater and was desperately in need of a friendly conversation. He rumbled on about his loving wife, his daughters, his depression, the fears he had that overcome him, the trip he was planning to have to Paris with the family but which scared him immensely.
Or the Janitor in a different building, who came from the Philippines over 20 years ago, who had a brother in California, and some Portuguese friends in a community in Leamington.
My experience has a foreigner in a strange land was very rewarding; it showed me that there are good people and bad people everywhere. That humanity thrives on perfection while dwelling in it’s on common imperfections.
The world is a beautiful place, for all to live in. I said this before, but to this I add that the world become ugly when all of us forget our place in it and develop a sense of blaming someone else in the process.
Electa was a home to me in the winter of 2003; it was a place where I laughed, I cried, I watched TV, I listen to music, I talked to friends, I did my laundry. I discovered a bit of my independency there in those rooms and hallways, that continuously was the stage for each of us to be the character we wanted to be.
I left Electa for good, but I brought a wonderful load of memories and a group of good friends. In the End, that is all that matters.
cocasman@zmail.pt
Friday, January 16, 2004
A strange moment of my past
.
About a year ago, I was leaving home towards a country many miles away, hoping that I could fix my life.
The story starts a bit earlier.
Somewhere in the early days of the summer of 2001, I was dwelling hard with my final report for the University. During those days I was totally lost for ambitions, desires, nothing was quite appealing. In a nutshell I was a shadow, an echo of myself.
In one of those weary nights I hid my fears in the countless corners of the World Wide Web, and like I had secretly hoped, finally, a voice came to me. A shy question from Canada would shape the trails of fate for the following years.
A friendship developed; a few days later the voice became a picture, a few weeks after that the picture became someone in my world.
Remembering those days, with the nostalgia that the moment deserves, I must confess that it was very rewarding to make a new friend, that a few months after that would turn into a big love.
The months passed, the “headache” report was finally finished, but no personal objective was quite defined in my own mind. In me there was no sense of fulfillment. I had just spent the last 5 years committing my resources to study in the Biotechnology field, and nothing – my soul was immensely quiet, with the apathy caused by emptiness.
Destiny had set a journey to Canada from December 2001 to February 2002. During that time, I fell in love, like merging myself into an infinite sense of happiness, embraced by a bubble of joy. To this day, I find it difficult to compare the feelings of certain days I had. The whole experience was quite rewarding, through the blending of cultures and the reality of a country so distinct of my own, I was awaking to something new.
Alas, after all the woods, the bowling alleys, the Christmas lights, the awe and the love, I had to come home.
I felt like I was being robbed. I felt extremely lonely, I cried for many days powerless to explain to whomever cared, what powered that. I hated my home world and everyone in it, for taking away my utopia. I pledge to myself a new future in Canada.
After some stormy months, seclusion from my friends, I finally managed to get a new chance to get back to Canada. Every since seemed perfect, I was about to indulge myself to a Masters in Biochemistry, in the hope of making something of the 5 years of biotechnology, but mostly I had a chance to be again in the dome of love.
Yet, as it so often happens, destiny had installed a twist of fate in my path. Something happened, that broke what could not be broken.
By late August of 2002, my love had run away, took everything away, only my emptiness remained.
Obstinate usually takes me over, and this time was no exception, as I felt that as soon as I could be in person, in Canadian lands, I could make the whole thing work.
2003 came.
On the 17th of January, I was leaving to Canada, for the second time, convinced of my own abilities to rule the empire of fate.
The following day, I set foot into Electa Hall. That is a different story.
After countless attempts of getting back to a reality that had lost it’s time in the past memories, I finally accepted destiny conclusion for that chapter.
I had lost myself. Without love and with no will to change the world, I had given up on working with Biotechnology. It took a while to realize that that utopian world had collapsed.
Finally, I realized that the chances in one reality are endless, as long as I believe that if there is a will to do something, then there must be a way of doing it.
Listening: Daniel Lanois - Acadie
cocasman@zmail.pt
About a year ago, I was leaving home towards a country many miles away, hoping that I could fix my life.
The story starts a bit earlier.
Somewhere in the early days of the summer of 2001, I was dwelling hard with my final report for the University. During those days I was totally lost for ambitions, desires, nothing was quite appealing. In a nutshell I was a shadow, an echo of myself.
In one of those weary nights I hid my fears in the countless corners of the World Wide Web, and like I had secretly hoped, finally, a voice came to me. A shy question from Canada would shape the trails of fate for the following years.
A friendship developed; a few days later the voice became a picture, a few weeks after that the picture became someone in my world.
Remembering those days, with the nostalgia that the moment deserves, I must confess that it was very rewarding to make a new friend, that a few months after that would turn into a big love.
The months passed, the “headache” report was finally finished, but no personal objective was quite defined in my own mind. In me there was no sense of fulfillment. I had just spent the last 5 years committing my resources to study in the Biotechnology field, and nothing – my soul was immensely quiet, with the apathy caused by emptiness.
Destiny had set a journey to Canada from December 2001 to February 2002. During that time, I fell in love, like merging myself into an infinite sense of happiness, embraced by a bubble of joy. To this day, I find it difficult to compare the feelings of certain days I had. The whole experience was quite rewarding, through the blending of cultures and the reality of a country so distinct of my own, I was awaking to something new.
Alas, after all the woods, the bowling alleys, the Christmas lights, the awe and the love, I had to come home.
I felt like I was being robbed. I felt extremely lonely, I cried for many days powerless to explain to whomever cared, what powered that. I hated my home world and everyone in it, for taking away my utopia. I pledge to myself a new future in Canada.
After some stormy months, seclusion from my friends, I finally managed to get a new chance to get back to Canada. Every since seemed perfect, I was about to indulge myself to a Masters in Biochemistry, in the hope of making something of the 5 years of biotechnology, but mostly I had a chance to be again in the dome of love.
Yet, as it so often happens, destiny had installed a twist of fate in my path. Something happened, that broke what could not be broken.
By late August of 2002, my love had run away, took everything away, only my emptiness remained.
Obstinate usually takes me over, and this time was no exception, as I felt that as soon as I could be in person, in Canadian lands, I could make the whole thing work.
2003 came.
On the 17th of January, I was leaving to Canada, for the second time, convinced of my own abilities to rule the empire of fate.
The following day, I set foot into Electa Hall. That is a different story.
After countless attempts of getting back to a reality that had lost it’s time in the past memories, I finally accepted destiny conclusion for that chapter.
I had lost myself. Without love and with no will to change the world, I had given up on working with Biotechnology. It took a while to realize that that utopian world had collapsed.
Finally, I realized that the chances in one reality are endless, as long as I believe that if there is a will to do something, then there must be a way of doing it.
Listening: Daniel Lanois - Acadie
cocasman@zmail.pt
Friday, January 09, 2004
A little tale about dreams
.
Once upon time there was a computer, one of a kind, it's purpose to record dreams.
Being a prototype, with a built-in artificial intelligence processor, the D-1 started being tested with the dreams of its makers.
The process was rather simple, a person would be hooked with a pair of special glasses that would touch the skin of the eyes, in order to measure the intensity of the rapid eye movement. The length and the duration of the movements would then be stored into the memory of D-1. Afterwards, the dream sequencer would convert the signals recorded into images and sounds.
During several weeks D-1 recorded dreams from the entire crew of people who had put their effort in creating such a machine.
The dreams were extraordinary; D-1 would draw the dreams, much like a painter would create an oil painting, adding the sounds as the sound-processor translates the residues of sound conveyed by the REM.
Once a child tried the machine, the myriad of colours and the characters that were depicted by D-1 were the most cheerful ever to be put into the memory bank.
D-1 had been running continuously for the past 10000 hours, and had accumulated hundreds of dreams.
For the first time, D-1 asked to be shut down, leaving only the memory bank active.
The scientists didn't quite know how to explain this behaviour on the D-1 part!
A question was then asked to the AI inside the D-1:
- Why does D-1 want to be shut down?
The answer came:
- The D-1 unit has recorded suficient amount of data, and it is ready to fullfill it's purpose.
Baffled by the D-1's reply the head scientist then asked:
- What is the D-1's purpose?
- To dream
---------------------------
P.S. Written after a sleepless night.
Once upon time there was a computer, one of a kind, it's purpose to record dreams.
Being a prototype, with a built-in artificial intelligence processor, the D-1 started being tested with the dreams of its makers.
The process was rather simple, a person would be hooked with a pair of special glasses that would touch the skin of the eyes, in order to measure the intensity of the rapid eye movement. The length and the duration of the movements would then be stored into the memory of D-1. Afterwards, the dream sequencer would convert the signals recorded into images and sounds.
During several weeks D-1 recorded dreams from the entire crew of people who had put their effort in creating such a machine.
The dreams were extraordinary; D-1 would draw the dreams, much like a painter would create an oil painting, adding the sounds as the sound-processor translates the residues of sound conveyed by the REM.
Once a child tried the machine, the myriad of colours and the characters that were depicted by D-1 were the most cheerful ever to be put into the memory bank.
D-1 had been running continuously for the past 10000 hours, and had accumulated hundreds of dreams.
For the first time, D-1 asked to be shut down, leaving only the memory bank active.
The scientists didn't quite know how to explain this behaviour on the D-1 part!
A question was then asked to the AI inside the D-1:
- Why does D-1 want to be shut down?
The answer came:
- The D-1 unit has recorded suficient amount of data, and it is ready to fullfill it's purpose.
Baffled by the D-1's reply the head scientist then asked:
- What is the D-1's purpose?
- To dream
---------------------------
P.S. Written after a sleepless night.
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