warrenonhamiltonisland

noreply@blogger.com (warren) — Fri, 06 Mar 2009 15:39:00 +0000

Next challenge, please.
In case you haven't yet heard, I didn't make the top 50 shortlist. I was pretty disappointed at first, but I think I'm fine with it now. I have to say, even if I made the shortlist, I don't think I would have got the job. There are some super strong applicants in the top 50.

If I had to do it again, I think I would have been more enthusiatic in my video. I think that's what was missing. Maybe more funny. I played with the idea of doing one of those cheesy 'eHarmony' commericals with me and Hamilton Island talking about how perfect we are for each other. Maybe that would have done it. Either way, I think the video needed more face time with me talking. That's ok. next time.

At first I think I was mostly disappointed about having tried and failed, because that meant that all those people who laughed at me and said "Why bother? You'll never get it!" were right. I didn't get it. I mentioned this to Agnes. She said that she loves that I tried. She loves that I spent a month obsessing over a website and staying up til 2am for a week straight working on the video. And I'm glad she put it that way. If you're going to give up before you start, what's the point of anything? I think too many people talk themselves out of trying. And like Agnes, I'm glad I'm not one of them.

So, what's next? Bigger and better and more exciting. If there's one thing that this process has shown me is that as much as I've done some cool stuff, I'm not the most exciting person in the world - not by a long shot. There are people that are living life 10 times harder, and 10 times faster and 10 times more exciting than I am. So I'm on the lookout for the next challenge. I'll let you know what pops up. Thanks for your support along the way.

noreply@blogger.com (warren) — Mon, 23 Feb 2009 02:43:00 +0000

My video application for the Best Job in the World is now online.
Watch it here!

noreply@blogger.com (warren) — Sun, 22 Feb 2009 21:53:00 +0000

The Indian Railway of Chaos...dun, dun, dun
Originally posted April 16, 2003
We were told by a number of people that if we don't take a train in India, then we haven't really traveled to India at all. With that in mind, we booked two train tickets from Kolkata to Varanasi. Not that we needed much convincing that a train was the way to go - Indian buses are suicidal - speeding along and swerving in and out of traffic uncontrollably. In our six-day stay in Kolkata, we read about several accidents involving buses losing control. It's just not that uncommon. So the "how" was set. The "where" wasn't so definite. We were back and forth between Varanasi and Bodhgaya until the last minute. In India, the last minute takes two hours since the guys selling the train tickets are in no hurry to get the job done. One guy working, two guys watching him work, another guy playing solitaire. Two hours later, we were buying tickets to Varanasi - one of the oldest cities in the world and the most sacred place for Hindus in India. But as you've come to expect, nothing is ever so simple as just taking a train.

The cab ride to the train station was an adventure in itself. Any cab ride in Kolkata is. The train station was only 20 minutes away. We budgeted two hours. The cab split lanes, dodged buses and other cabs, darted around pedestrians and in front of rickshaws. And of course, in Kolkata there's no need to use an indicator. A three-second blast of a horn will suffice to inform everyone within earshot what you've got planned. Turning left. Horn. Turning right. Horn. Stopping. Horn. Pulling into on-coming traffic and then executing a 17 point turn to back your cab into a spot made for a bicycle? Horn. Indian drivers (not just taxi drivers, but all drivers) use their horns non-stop while driving. Hardly five seconds goes by that a driver isn't on his horn. It's really unbelievable. Now, multiply the sound of a horn by 14 million (Kolkata's population) because apparently everyone in the city was driving to the train station that night - like they are every night, on every road in Kolkata. It's pure chaos. Chaos like the kind you see in movies about apocalypse. It is like everyone has to get out of a city with one bridge before it collapses, driving on medians, through on-coming traffic, on train tracks. Anything to get out. But apparently we were the only ones who noticed. Everyone else was completely unphased by this madness. As promised, we got there in exactly 20 minutes.

Once there, we had to find our train, platform, correct car and seats, plus load our bags. Long story short, we did it. We did it wrong and had to move to another car, but we did that too.

The cabin structure is such that three seats face in towards three other seats. The seats are nothing luxurious by any means, more like a long bench than three seats. We're sharing the bench with a Japanese guy named Ken. Agnes is one. Warren is two, and Ken is three. Across from us are another set of three seats. There are eight Indian people squeezed in to them. Three adults, four children and one infant. Not one of them can sit still for more than 20 seconds, and who can blame them? They're squeezed into three seats.

Kolkata to Varanasi is a 14 hour train ride. We're not terribly pleased. If there is a positive side to this tale, it's this: Every time the train stops, it is boarded by at least 10 people selling food, drinks, pillows, mirrors, magazines, you name it. It's like a dollar store that makes house calls. People are trying to hawk any and everything. However, one particular item keeps rearing its' head and taunting us. It's a pink and green plastic hammer that squeeks when you hammer anything. There are four children across from us who will exploit any means to make this ride more aggravating for us. Thankfully, the three adults have the sense not to torment us any further. The hammer vendor moves on.

Two hours into the ride, we convert the bench and the two folding beds above it into our sleeping quarters and retire for the rest of the evening. The family, it appears, did not buy three seats, but only two. Some are squeezed into the two sleeper berths while others are spread out on the floor. A baby is crying. A vendor is selling water. And the family is switching seats again. Before leaving Thailand, we bought two MP3 players. Tonight our purchase is paying off. I put the headphones in my ears, scroll to U2 on my playlist and say, as if he could hear me: "Come on Bono, sing it to me brother".

We woke up refreshed and relaxed, sans family of eight. They must have got off at a stop during the night. We were in Varanasi.

Tomorrow's blog: Indian Hospitality

noreply@blogger.com (warren) — Sat, 21 Feb 2009 20:55:00 +0000

My application is in! Man, that was a seriously tense day. I thought it wasn't going to get uploaded and that was it for all this work. My fans! What would they think?!

I have to say that I usually handle stress pretty well, but that was a rough day. I think because there was nothing I could do on my end, I felt pretty helpless. In the end, Marco Bialetti (a great guy I work with) helped me do some tests and we figured out that the problem could be solved by dropping the file size significantly. So I crushed the file down to 2.4Mb (from 78!) and it worked. Whew.

As soon as they approve it and upload it to the site, I'll post a link here! Thanks for your support everyone!

noreply@blogger.com (warren) — Fri, 20 Feb 2009 09:54:00 +0000

It's 4:54am. It's one day before the application deadline. I stayed up all night to finish my video application. I didn't want to wait until the actual last day in case there is a server overload issue again. Went to upload and found this on the site. Heat.

noreply@blogger.com (warren) — Thu, 19 Feb 2009 00:07:00 +0000

Kolkata (formerly Calcutta)
Originally posted April 15, 2003
Agnes and I decide to try potato curry and chapati from a street vendor. 4 rupees. (1 Canadian dollar is roughly 30 rupees.) It's good, until I eat the green bean on top. Turns out that the green bean is a green chili. Now we're running through the streets looking for something to drink. I'm panting.

After a few minutes we find a guy with a cart full of coconuts. Agnes orders one since I can't talk. I down it and slowly start to come out of my hallucinatory state. A few minutes later we're walking through the streets again - now with an empty coconut and a straw sticking out of it. We're looking for something that resembles a place to put garbage, aside from the floor. There are signs posted around the city sponsored by banks and other buinesses that read "This is your Kolkata, keep it clean." But these are signs. You'd figure one of these banks would sponsor a trash can. No such luck.

We come across a group of about 10 businessmen. They've just finished some kind of meeting and are waiting for taxis. We approach a man with a briefcase.

"Do you speak English?"
"A little."
"What do people do with garbage in Kolkata?"

Without flinching he points to a bit of sidewalk strewn with litter and says:

"Gargabe you can keep here."

He says this as if this particular spot is the one spot where garbage is stored. More from disbelief, but partly trying to indicate that he does not want to add to the disturbing amount of litter on the street, Warren asks:

"Oh, does someone pick garbage up from the streets?"

The answer comes as plainly as if Warren was asking 'Should I hit myself in the head with a hammer?'

"No, no."

And he gets into his cab and drives off.
Tomorrow's blog: The Indian Railway of Chaos ... dun, dun duunnn.

noreply@blogger.com (warren) — Tue, 17 Feb 2009 16:34:00 +0000

A sort of homecoming.
Originally posted April 10, 2003
My dad is from Calcutta. My mum, Allahabad. Aside from knowing that these are cities somewhere in the northern half of India, I know nothing of these places. My dad speaks Hindi, but I've never heard him do so, save for a couple of times ordering samosas or something from an Indian shop. I've heard him tell me stories about this place and how he knows it like the back of his hand. I don't doubt it for a second, but I can't imagine how anyone could have solid grasp of this place.

We've been here for almost 24 hours and here are my initial impressions.
First off, I'm glad we came through Bangkok. Bangkok has served as a buffer in a number of ways. Bangkok is dirty and hectic compared to Toronto. We've already seen rats and fist sized cockroaches. I've seen beggars with infants and people living in squalor. When we left Bangkok it was 37 degrees celcius. The temperature in Kolkata (formerly Calcutta) can get as high as 46 degrees at this time of year. Today is a cool 35.

We also got ripped off a couple of times in Bangkok. We fell for the local scams and typical tourist traps, but India ain't no Thailand. There are 1.01 billion people in India. That's a fifth of the planet. And most of them are poor. That means we should expect scams that would take Thailand itself for a ride. So we have to be on our toes. Sadly that means that we have to be on full defensive here. It's not a nice feeling, being suspect of everyone you see, but we did just get here, and we have been warned to be careful, and I'm sure in time we'll relax and become comfortable here in India, minutes before we get robbed.
Tomorrow's blog: Kolkata (formerly Calcutta)