February 19th, 2011 – Mariachi party

If we play a word association game, and I hear the word "mariachi", my immediate reaction is "Banderas", followed by this song from the movie "Desperado". Oh damn it, now I'll have this song competing with the gas truck song in my head for days. Banderas has always been my sex symbol and I have goose bumps listening to this song. I bet many women share my opinion. Actually, let me see… Hmmm… I'm quite surprised that I cannot find good male sex symbol statistics on google. Disappointing. But this is what I did find – an article on legendary male sex symbols throughout the years – this website looks like it can be very useful for enhancing your knowledge of random stuff.

Anyway, where was I? Ah, I was at a mariachi party at La Hatch. It was a very pleasant evening. The place is located in the south of Cozumel right on the water, and all the windows and terraces of this three-storey construction open up to a gorgeous ocean view offering tremendous sunset photo ops.

This is the bar where my last year's "crowd" hangs out – Tio Kevin, Kay and Greg, Bruce and Debbie, Manny and Kathy. I forgot that we are already in February and the same people are back to Cozumel, true to their annual tradition, and I was happily surprised to see them all at once. It was as if I suddenly returned into the last year (minus Justin and Ana, the main characters, though). It is always touching to sense that all the greeting kisses, hugs and "how have you beens" are genuine and sincere. When the initial commotion subsides, we settled down at a big table and didn't move for several hours, drinking, chatting, laughing, and listening to the mariachi music. Life is good. Always.

February 18, 2011 – Pre-dive moron check

Should inconsiderate morons be allowed to dive? I don't usually discriminate, but after what happened today I think every dive shop must consider instituting a pre-dive moron check.

I went diving with Liang on the big boat today. Colombia Deep was our first dive. Javier had a small boat, and they went to Devil's Throat. The way this dive goes is you drop close to the "throat" cave, go through it one by one, get out at about 130 feet and start your multi-level ascent (that goes on for about 30 minutes). The dive master usually goes into the throat first and makes sure nobody drops deeper on the exit. And everybody was fine, except for this one guy who – upon exiting the cave – continued kicking down so fast that Javier and the others in the group were absolutely certain that he was determined to commit suicide.

As a dive master, what do you do in a situation like this? The rule of thumb is "don't do anything that may potentially put your life in danger". Of course, emotions always kick in and most dive masters will make an attempt to save the person who is making some kind of dangerous mistake. But this case was a bit different. It was clearly not a mistake. The guy knew exactly what he was doing. "I had only 3 seconds to make my decision, - Javier commented. – On one hand, I had a guy possibly committing suicide. On the other hand, I had 6 more divers at the depth of 130 feet. What if any of them loses control and starts dropping down as well? What if they get confused and worried if I follow the guy? What if somebody starts following me? I decided to stay with the group."

They stayed put and waited for several minutes for the guy to re-appear. Nothing. Javier aborted the dive, and after he put everybody back on the boat and reported the incident to the other boats in the vicinity, he went back into the water and did 30 minutes of free diving in an attempt to locate the guy's bubbles. All in vain. The guy was nowhere to be found. Javier's heart was ready to jump out of his chest. He had never seen anything like this before. What do you do? What the hell do you do?

The oppressive silence reigned back on the boat… Finally, the guy re-appeared. He looked a bit sorry, but not really. Javier handled the situation with an impressive poise. He made sure to talk to the guy one on one, careful not to involve any other divers in the conversation (as you can imagine, each of them was ready to rip the perpetrator apart). He made sure he never raised his voice. Attentively, he listened to the guy's version of the incident. Apparently, he hadn't been narked, he hadn't been lost, he had done all of this on purpose. His brilliant explanation was, "Well, but I always do this. I always go deep on my dives." He didn't offer any explanation of the outrageous breach of standard emergency procedures he committed. According to scuba diving rules, if you separate from the group, you are supposed to look for them for about ONE minute and surface if you don't find anybody. He, on the other hand, did a whole 63-minute dive all by himself! What the hell was he thinking, I wonder, diving all alone?

This was his first and last time at Aldora. Obviously, he wasn't allowed to make the second dive of the day, and he was banned from the shop as well.

I don't know what the silver lining of this cloud is, but there was definitely a funny lining to it. At the surface interval, one of the guys from our group returned from the bathroom looking very perplexed. He sat down at the table and shared that upon leaving the toilet he had been confronted by some angry-looking man who had come very close to him and hissed, "I want to punch you out!" Our guy was obviously taken aback by this proposition, quickly played back what had happened in the stall, and concluded with absolute certainty that he had flushed and there was no reason whatsoever to punish him for any rule breaking… Of course, he just looked like the perpetrator and Jim Vetter (the angry man at the bathroom door, a loyal customer of Aldora's) confused them.

So in the end, we all had a good laugh. With one exception though. Javier was very much shaken by this whole thing and couldn't really bring himself to laugh for another couple of days.

February 17, 2011 – Marriage Contracts

My Valentine's Day research also revealed that on February 14^th, 1400 an interesting institution was established in Paris. The "High Courts of Love" dealt with love contracts, betrayals, and violence against women (how progressive). Judges were selected by women on the basis of a poetry reading (curious). Some say though that these weren't really courts per se, but rather literary salons and social gatherings, where people read poems, debated questions of love, and played word games of flirtation.

I find this a fine concept. In fact, only a couple of years ago I was seriously considering to introduce Marriage Courts to the world. I believe the modern society desperately needs to re-haul the whole concept of marriage. Maybe it's a bit different from the High Courts of Love though, so let me elaborate on my ingenious idea.

In a nutshell, we all know that in our day and age (and I should probably add, in 1^st world countries) the only reason to get married is feelings. Most women can very well manage their finances. Most men are sensible enough to hire cleaning ladies. There's no need to constantly pop children in order to expand the family's farming workforce. What's left? Love, love, love. Obvious problems arise when you base a life contract on something that… underappreciated.

Yes, I think the main problem with lasting relationships these days is that we don't appreciate what we are feeling. Our generation is greedy, and for the most part we all want more. More of everything: more money in our bank, more adrenalin in our blood, more years to our life. Why not more spouse candidates?

Our generation is used to upgrades. We don't even attempt to fix anything anymore, we just get the N.N version of the device in trouble and we are happy for another year or two before the next upgrade comes out. Come to think of it, we don't even need to wait for any trouble to happen to change the device. We do it just because the upgrade is available. We want our "more" to always be "better". A better job, a better APR, a better diet. Why not a better spouse upgrade?

Our generation has Attention Deficit Disorder. So how can we be expected to keep our relationship if we cannot even focus enough attention on it?

So my solution to the problem is to create an environment that will make you appreciate your relationship. And when do we usually start to appreciate anything we have? Exactly - when we don't have it anymore! So theoretically, if we create an artificial threat to the longevity of a relationship, it should make this relationship last longer.

Marriage Contract will be signed between partners for 5 years. After this term, you are free to go OR if you wish to extend for another 5 years, you can go to the Marriage Court and defend your case. I bet you that will reduce the divorce rate dramatically. And even if not, a term contract almost guarantees that you will have a more quality relationship for the 5 years that you have together. It's human nature to enjoy things more if we know for a fact they won't last long.

Of course, there are many questions about the implementation of such a system in the society. "Who will be the judges in the Marriage Court?" "What do you do with children?" "How do you divide property?" but I think that I'm on the right track with the general concept, no?

Going back to the High Courts of Love though, I was also fascinated by the fact that there are actually guidelines for "courtly love" that you must follow in order to have a "kosher" experience:

• Attraction to the lady, usually via eyes/glance.
  
• Worship of the lady from afar.
  
• Declaration of passionate devotion.
  
• Virtuous rejection by the lady.
  
• Renewed wooing with oaths of virtue and eternal fealty.
  
• Moans of approaching death from unsatisfied desire (and other physical manifestations of lovesickness).
  
• Heroic deeds of valor which win the lady's heart.
  
• Consummation of the secret love.
  
• Endless adventures and subterfuges avoiding detection.
  

Complicated, really. In our ADD age it probably goes something like this:

• Consummation.
  
• Attraction.
  
• A short relationship.
  
• A quick heart-break.
• Moving on.
  
• Rinse, repeat.
  

P.S. I have to say, the "other side" of the island where we were chilling for hours today is very inducive to such thoughtsJ.

February 16, 2011 – Isla Pasión

Although Cozumel is Mexico's third largest island (250 square miles, 80,000 inhabitants as of 2005), it is really tiny. I have spent a total of about six months over the past two years on this 30-mile long, 10-mile wide island. I should really know all its little secrets. But I don't. I don't even know some of the very obvious stuff... From now on though, I declare exploration my new Cozumel lifestyle.

Today's exploration route – Isla Pasión – a little island, located just a 5-minute boat ride off the North coast of Cozumel. Javier and I took a bike "tour" up to the boat departure point.

I enjoyed our bike ride very much. Even Javier's constant whining about my slow speed didn't spoil the experience. It's about 8 km (5 mi) from our house, which is quite a distance for me considering that I have just learnt how to bike. The road stretches all the way North past the Villa Aldora, Puerto de Abrigo, golf course and turns into a dirt road with beautiful surrounding greenery. First, it's fat and luscious palm trees and then, all of a sudden, there's a whole field of strange trees that look like they jumped out of some fantasy movie or a fairy-tale and will start talking any moment now. You have to make sure to hold tight onto your bike handles though – the numerous potholes are pretty deep and sometimes hard to notice because of the treacherous reflection of the sun. It's all worth it though, for the view that opens up at the end of this road is magnificent.

The water, strangely reddish near the shore, turns into golden brown a bit further, to become a turquoise blue at the horizon right around the green contour of La Isla Pasión.

Liang told me there used to be a walking bridge you could take between the islands about 5 years ago, but all that remains of it now is a 100-foot long wooden "pier". Actually, I cannot even figure out how to get there if you don't want to be part of an organized excursion (I have never seen a worse website than the one they made for Isla Pasion –www.isla-pasion.com– a shame really, the island itself seems to be quite a paradise).

Early in the morning it's so quiet and peaceful here. You just want to sit on the little wooden bridge-pier forever and gaze at the sea.

February 15, 2011 - Mapping Cordona

I was dreading this day. As part of the Dive Master course you have to produce a map of a dive site. I’m outrageous with directions. I’m terrible with maps. I can hardly follow one, let alone create it! And the compass! I don’t like compasses. I have to relearn how to use it every time I need it for some diving course. It’s bad. Maybe this exercise will finally make me remember the “trick” once and for all.

We had to do mapping in buddy teams. I was paired up with Kelly, a girl from Connecticut who is here for the DM training. We took the truck to La Caleta, a little harbor where the boats “live”. I have a special emotional connection to La Caleta. Good memories. It was the starting point of my 100^th dive. Bad memories. This place will always remind me of how painfully cold it was for me to dive last year. Every time the weather was not that good (the wind is strong but not bad enough for the port to be closed), we started dives from La Caleta. The strong wind and no sun usually means freezing during the surface interval. I don’t know how many second dives I missed last year because I was too cold to get back in the water. Of course, now that I have my power semi-dry 8-mm suit, it’s not a problem at all. Today, we started from here not because of the bad weather (thank God), but because the dive site we’re mapping – Cordona – is located between San Francisco and Punta Tunich, very close to La Caleta.

The best way to make a map is to snorkel above the reef first to get its general contour and then do one or two dives to record the depths, distances and marine life in the area. It’s good to do it in pairs because then one person can focus on depths while the other does distances. Both people must create their own map to record numbers on and then you compare the notes, which ideally should be similar, and transfer the finalized version onto paper.

By now I’m kind of used to the fact that everything I’m scared of turns out to be fun and not scary at all. Mapping was no exception. It is quite a task to be able to trace all the curves and nooks of the site as you get carried by a pretty strong current. Especially, when all of a sudden your slate breaks into two and the whole east side of the map slowly starts sinking deeper and deeper, and there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it because your “power” semi-dry suit is so buoyant that it doesn’t even allow you to immerse your head completely underwater, let alone free dive for the escaping piece of paper. Helplessly, I twitched my body every which way in an attempt to go down, all in vain. But this is when another advantage of mapping in buddy teams comes into play. Kelly, who – thank God – was wearing just a regular wetsuit, retrieved the east side for me in a second.

You have only one chance to get the shape right – the surface current is pretty strong and there’s no way you can stop, or even slow down, to perfect your work in progress. Impossible is nothing though (I love this slogan!), and you quickly learn to accept that your map will be schematic at best and move on.

I was surprised to realize how different the reef looks from the bottom compared to the bird’s eye view. I’m not very good with spatial thinking, and I’m glad I got the snorkeling overview first, otherwise I would never be able to figure out the real shapes. Since I’ll have to guide soon, I wish I could get a snorkeling “tour” of every major dive site of Cozumel, but who are we kidding, it will never happen…

The original plan was for Kelly and I to be on the opposite sides of the reef taking depths and whenever we couldn’t see each other anymore we should come up a bit and measure the distance between us. Well, our brilliant plan didn’t work. We quickly realized that although the corals looked pretty short from the top, it was actually impossible to see the other side for the most part. So Kelly and I revised the plan and continued together. I was struggling with the depth finder that I borrowed from a friend in the hope that it would help us measure distances more efficiently. In theory, it does sound easier than keeping a count of your kick cycles or crawling on the bottom of the sea with your arms constantly stretched. In practice, it is not that simple. The problem is that the device is super sensitive and doubles as a fish finder, so every time I pointed it toward a boulder and a random fish passed by, I would get the distance to the fish and not the boulder. Another annoying thing about it is that for some reason it insists on taking the temperature on every second click. Seriously, why do I need so many temperature readings? So in the end, I had to take several readings for each distance to make sure it was correct. Still better than arm lengths and kick cycles though. Kelly was obsessed with taking depths. Her computer was set in meters for some reason and when I saw a series of “10.5 10.6 10.4 9.9” clustered around a boulder, it made me laugh – my depth records read, “30 feet” on the west side of my broken slate and “18 feet” on the east side. I’m exaggerating, of course, but not by much.

In the afternoon, we got together to finalize our map. I was thrilled to learn that apparently Kelly went to an art school for years. We went all in. Empowered by the fact that our maps looked very similar (we both were scared of this exercise and had no faith that we could possibly do a decent job), excitedly we compared depths, shapes and notes. Almost everything was identical, and what was not, served as a good complement to the other map. It was simply perfect. And we drew a simply perfect map. We even used colored pencils. Our map was the best. Really.

February 14, 2011 – Did you know that…

• …there are many days honoring martyrs named Valentine in the Church Calendar and nobody is 100% sure which one exactly this holiday is celebrated after, as there are at least two Valentines who were executed on February 14^th. What everybody is sure about, however, that this holiday originally had nothing to do with the romantic love.

© Tatyana Molchanova

• …the love part of this holiday crept in sometime in the middle ages when everything seemed to somehow revolve around the Romantic Love and is based on an allegedly completely unfounded legend that goes something like this. The emperor Claudius II ordered young men to stay single. Supposedly, he did this to grow his army, believing that married men didn't make for good soldiers (it makes sense, I guess). The priest Valentine, however, secretly performed marriage ceremonies for young men. When Claudius found out about this, he had Valentine arrested and thrown in jail.
  
  
  © Tatyana Gindin
  
  
  
  
• …the "Roses are red" poem can be traced as far back as 1590, to Edmund Spenser's epic"The Faerie Queene":
  She bath'd with roses red, and violets blew,
  And all the sweetest flowers, that in the forest grew.
  
  

© Elmira Shirinova

• …in Mexico Valentine's Day is called Dia del Amor y de la Amistad (Day of Love and Friendship). It is similar to the United States' version, but it is also common to see people do "acts of appreciation" for their friends.
  
  

© Marina Barskaya

• …and last but not least, apparently quite a lot of Americans celebrate something called SAD– are you ready? – Singles Awareness Day (seriously???). This "holiday" is obviously a protest against Valentine's Day and usually takes place on February 13^th or February 15^th. It's customary to wear green on that day, because green is considered to be the "opposite" of red.
  
  

© Sue Chuang

In Russia we tend to adopt all the world's holidays. We really don't care about the philosophy behind the celebration: as long as there's a chance to party with some kind of premise to toast to, we just go for it. So…

HAPPY V-DAY EVERYONE!

P.S. What a great excuse to share all the 218 heart pictures I have collected so far, too!:)

February 13, 2011 – What’s a few pounds!

Do I look helpless? Do I look fragile? Do I look like need to be taken care of? I wonder… There must be something about me that makes people feel that they just have to help me. It is most apparent during traveling: without my involvement in the process, my suitcases get carried over the stairs, my carry-on gets lifted onto the overhead compartment, my overweight luggage gets onto the belt without any extra fee charged. Pheromones again? Whatever it is, I hope I will never lose it! It makes my life so much easier.

During the check-in at La Guardia airport, they made the guy right in front of me take 2 extra pounds out of his suitcase (the current luggage limit is 50 lbs). When I placed my gigantic bag on the scale, it showed 57 lbs. I started on the bag's zipper, ready to rearrange things, but the flight attendant smiled at me, "What's a few pounds! Don't worry about it!" The attendant was a lady. So it has nothing to do with the sexual attraction (well, I cannot be 100% sure, of courseJ).

My carry-on was definitely bigger than allowed and much-much heavier – 47 lbs (by the way, neither of my two overweight suitcases contained any of my things, they were stuffed with wet-suits, fins and other diving paraphernalia that dive masters on the island requested me to bring from NYC). I was trying to stroll very casually to the gate pretending that the bag was light as a feather. In the front of my line a guy was arguing with a flight attendant – his carry-on didn't pass the requirements and the flight attendant insisted on making him check in his bag. The guy's argument was valid – every other person in line had a similar bag (with new luggage limitations everybody tries to pack as much as they possibly can into their carry-on). I tried to "block" my obviously oversized suitcase with my body and look non-chalant at the same time. The flight attendant was relentless. The guy continued to argue. The line was moving. Finally, it was my turn. I made sure that the bag was on the opposite side of the flight attendant and smiled nicely as I handed my boarding pass over to him. No questions asked, I was allowed to board. The poor guy stood dumbfounded, suddenly he realized there was no point in continuing the argument.

And yes, on the plane, my 47-pound carry-on was lifted (as if it were light as a feather) but a body-builder type whose seat was across the aisle from me. What luck!

I love my pheromones. Is there any risk that you may run out of them one day? I hope not!

February 11-13, 2011 – The usual

What is it about NYC that makes me have awful migraines? For three days straight I was bed-bound by a terrible pain. What the (*^%(*^%*&^! Thank God I was able to take the flight back to Cozumel. The second I stepped my foot on the island, the headache went away as if I never had it. Go figure…

February 10, 2011 - Yama

Yama has the best sushi in the world. Well, at least the rolls. The best one is Special #7 - scallop roll with spicy mayonnaise. Yum!

Every time I'm in this restaurant I get drunk... purely on food. It's a must if you are in New York!

February 8-9, 2011 - Boston

his is the first time I take a bus to Boston. I will never take a train again. Only 13 bucks get you the same 4 hours of travel time, so why would I ever pay more? Apparently, Megabus is an excellent choice. The only tiny hiccup is that they claim they have wi-fi on board, but it's not really true. I mean, it's hit or miss. It was a miss on my roundtrip. But I don't care, it was nice to just stare out of the window and think random thoughts.

In Boston I did nothing but hang out with Jennifer on the couch and chat. It was wonderful. Jennifer and Kevin have this gift to make any apartment (and I've been to three that they have lived in over the past 12 years) so cozy that you don't ever want to go out. Even their teenage kids like to spend time at home. This is really something.

When I finally have a family, I want it to be like Jennifer's… I just wrote several paragraphs trying to describe what's so good about them, but it turns out I cannot. So I'm going to just stick to my original statement. When I have a family, I want it to be like Jennifer's.

February 7th, 2011 – Is it or is it not in the eye of the beholder?

"It is only shallow people who do not judge by appearances.
The true mystery of the world is the visible, not the invisible".
Oscar Wilde.

I cut my hair. It wasn't just a trim, it was a pretty dramatic cut. I went from long hair to short hair in less than 15 minutes. Why do I explain it in such detail? So that my astonishment is clear. NOT ONE of my guy friends noticed the change! Regardless, I love it. I loved my long hair too, but it's been too long (pun intended, insert the victorious percussion sound here).

This made me think. I know from experience that a lot of things change after you get to know a person. If you like them, you stop noticing their "ugly" traits and start attributing various sorts of beauty to them instead, all of a sudden, they become more attractive. If you don't like them, the opposite process occurs, and whatever initial appeal may have existed quickly evaporates. Speaking of attractiveness, it turns out that you can… measure it. My day is full of surprises.

The attempts at scientific research of physical attractiveness started in mid-1960s. Edward Lee Thorndike (American psychologist and educator) asserts, "If something exists, it exists in some amount; if it exists in some amount, it can be measured." Unexpected. There's a whole research methodology that is dedicated to physical attractiveness. It's called the "Truth of Consensus". Gestalt perspectives (professing that the whole is greater than the sum of the parts) implemented through this truth of consensus method have, apparently, proven to be successful in the research of the physical attractiveness phenomenon. Starting from here, everything is disappointingly expected, although still pretty interesting:

• Looks are ranked as significantly more seductive than money, power and fame.
  
• Healthy and young appearance is considered the epitome of attractiveness.
  
• Face seems to be more important than the body components.
  
• Curiously, the order of the five most important attractiveness determinants varies depending on the evaluation perspective (according to some research done in the 70s-80s):
  
  • For females judged by self, the order is:
    
    • Weight
      
    • Face
      
    • Height
      
    • Legs
      
    • Extremities
      
  • Females judged by females:
    
    • Weight
      
    • Face
      
    • Complexion
      
    • Legs / Height
      
    • Hands
      
  • Females judged by men:
    
    • Weight
      
    • Face
      
    • Height
      
    • Hands
      
    • Figure
      
  • For males judged by self:
    
    • Face
      
    • Legs
      
    • Weight
      
    • Torso
      
    • Voice / Hair
      
  • Males judged by males:
    
    • Face
      
    • Weight
      
    • Legs
      
    • Shoulders / Arms
      
    • Complexion / Hands
      
  • Males judged by females:
    
    • Face
      
    • Weight
      
    • Hair
      
    • Body / Profile
      
    • Shoulders / Arms
      
• And last but not least, familiarity – the research shows – significantly affects physical attractiveness…
  

Which brings me to my original issue. Familiarity expectedly skews your opinion about your friend's looks, but I had absolutely no idea that you may NOT notice the appearance! And what that really means is you see the person with your mind's eye, not with your physical two eyes. It could be true just about appearances, but what if it also applies to the character? What if we see our friends the way we imagine them and not the way they really are?

P.S. If you want to dig into this fascinating research, follow this link.

February 6, 2011 – The most expensive commercials

This blog is becoming some sort of support group for me. "Hi, I'm Maria. I don't know how to ride a bicycle." "Hi, I'm Maria. I have OCD and I pursue symmetry." "Hi, I'm Maria. I get easily addicted to anything."

Now it's time for a new confession. "Hi, I'm Maria. I don't like sports. I don't understand sports. I don't know the first thing about sports. I don't care about sports."

I find life very exciting in general, but there are two things that never strike any spark in me: newspapers and sports. When I was in high school, I had to force myself reading news for our classroom presentations, but it was always a struggle. I just don't understand the newspaper lingo… not in any language. My gaze can glide over the paragraphs for minutes on end, but I will be getting nothing out of it – my thoughts would just fly somewhere far-far away, in a world that has absolutely nothing to do with the topic at hand.

Same with sports. I rarely get forced into watching sports, but every time I find myself in this awkward situation, I just go for it. I never bother to learn the rules. I just stare at the screen, without any understanding or any desire to understand what's happening, and think my thoughts. It's meditative reallyJ.

It could be embarrassing too, though. Last night, during the Superbowl, Tauheed said to me, "I cannot believe those ridiculous commercials are supposed to be the most expensive ones." I responded, "No, no, the most expensive commercials are during American Football!" Everybody fell silent… "Hi, I'm Maria. I thought we were watching baseball…"

February 3 - February 5, 2011: My friend’s wedding

I will be in NYC for about a week. My friend Piraye is getting married. It's a beautiful story, actually. Piraye is a gorgeous Turkish girl raised in an all-around academic family in Texas (both her parents are teaching professors) and a brilliant scientist.

A little bit over a year ago, she was staying on my couch for a couple of weeks when she had just returned from doing her post-doc in Cambridge. At that time, she had just quit academia to pursue a new business-woman career, and together with a friend created Celmatix, a biotechnology company specializing in fertility treatment for women. We had long and detailed conversations of how the company should be organized and grow, what committees they had to pass to gain respect in the industry, what networking they had to do in order to receive appropriate funding. We talked about my desire to quit my job and joked about me becoming the COO of Celmatix when it grows to be a multi-million dollar huge corporation and needs an efficient infrastructure. As a matter of fact, I was the first investor in the company, putting a very modest amount into their website development. I didn't understand a thing from what she was trying to explain to me about the new models of diagnosing infertility; I just believed in Piraye.

One day last year, at a dinner party with friends, she met Nick, who is a venture capitalist. Naturally, Piraye was very much interested in talking to him about how the process of attracting capital works. Nick was also very much interested in talking to her – as I have mentioned, Piraye is a gorgeous and brilliant woman. And thus their personal joint venture began.

And this weekend, I'm here for their wedding. Really, life is so amazingly full of possibilities!

Piraye and Nick's wedding

The wedding took place in the NYC Public Library. Need I say anything more? Well, I will. It was the most chic wedding I have ever been to. Everything from the vows to the place settings was the epitome of tastefulness and simplicity. The words said out loud were very sweet (yet not cheesy). The toasts proclaimed were full of humor (yet not "roasty"). The looks exchanged between them were full of adoration. In other words – forgive me this cliché – the atmosphere was charged with love and joy, and I felt truly happy to be part of it… And on top of everything, we had a lot of fun!

February 2, 2011 – Better late than never

I love riding my bicycle! I cannot believe that all my life I have deprived myself of this pleasure. It is nice to feel self-sufficient and be able to run all kinds of errands in a thousand little places of the island all by myself, without having to borrow a car or ask Javier to drive me around everywhere. Today, my one-hour errand route consisted of the following stops:

• Paid for the internet on Benito Juarez and 50^th Avenue.
  
• Bought a Mexican phone (finally!).
  
• Stopped by La Mega to get a charger for Liang's phone to replace the one I mysteriously misplaced.
  
• Made copies of some papers I need for my Dive Master certification.
  
• Stopped by many stores in search for delicious Mexican chocolate for Tanya (the minute I mentioned to her, that I found a source of amazing chocolate on Cozumel, the said source – Maharaja store on the 15^th avenue – has discontinued it… typical).
  

I feel totally local now, casually jumping off my bike next to the Cablemas office, tying the lock around some nearby pole in one quick masterful motion, throwing a quick "Buenos dias" to whom it may concern, and going in to pay for the internet… It feels nice.

I am definitely not very good (yet), but I am not afraid, and that is already something (thank God, I still haven't met any crazy drives of Cozumel everybody is raving about, but I'm aware of the possibility and try to be careful and alert). I am also pretty slow, but I honestly don't see any point of going fast – I really enjoy looking around, especially when riding along el malecon (the main avenue alongside the ocean). I have to speed up though if I want to get to the other side of the island with Javier one day. He has never done it himself, and in a desperate attempt to indefinitely postpone this fun yet undoubtedly long and challenging trip, he made it very clear that until my turtle speed improves I can only expect being driven there in his car. Silly him, as if he doesn't know how determined I can be. I say we'll be on the other side on our bikes in a couple of weeksJ.

P.S. All of a sudden I felt compelled to figure out the etymology of the phrase "better late than ever". The Phrase Finder website attributes it to Geoffery Chaucer and his Canterbury Tales (1386). But given that on this Phrase Finder it's spelled as "better late THEN never", I wouldn't consider it a credible source… Aha, this is more likely: it was first used by Titus Livius (59BC – 17AD) in his monumental history of Rome and the Roman people, Ab Urbe Condita Libri ("Chapters from the foundation of the city").

"Because a concession was once made in the matter of tribunes, it had been made again; there was no end to it. Tribunes of the plebs and the senate could not exist in the same State, either that office or this order (i.e. the nobility) must go. Their insolence and recklessness must be opposed, and better late than never." More…

February 1, 2011 – Take good care of your eyes

One of the girls from the GVI's group of Dive Masters here had a terrible incident the other day. She scratched her cornea with a contact lens. At first, it was just a tiny routine injury – her eye got a bit irritated, that's all. But instead taking the contact out and leaving her poor eye along, she kept rubbing it constantly, against all our reasoning. Practically in no time the eye looked completely red and totally unhealthy. All of a sudden, she was in pain, and pretty quickly (in a matter of hours, literally) it turned out that she got some severe infection in. She was hospitalized, because they had to administer various antibiotics on the hour. The next morning she had to be put on an emergency flight to Houston. It turns out that she will have to have the antibiotics treatment for another three months, after which she may or may not need a cornea transplant…

Unfortunately, she did not get a chance to finish the training and get her Dive Master certification. Fortunately, she had a travel insurance.

January 31, 2011: Year 2 – Day 1 – Annoyed

Should I continue writing this blog? I feel a bit silly about it. Since I'm planning to be in Cozumel for the next several months, with only a few Mexico road trip breaks planned, I am not technically traveling. But I'm so used to writing this, I'm not sure I can simply decide to stop and, well, stop. And who said that this blog is a travelog anyway? Maybe I should continue writing it until I'm back to NYC for good? Although where's the guarantee that I will ever again return to NYC for good? I plan to, I cannot imagine living anywhere else, I love the city, but we all know that life is full of surprises. And if I do continue writing it, should I stick to the same format or figure out something new? Write every day or every week or only when something really interesting happens? Argh! Why do I even have to ask myself these questions? Why do I have to question and rationalize everything instead of just following my instincts and doing what feels pleasant to do! This is beyond annoying.

Yes, I'm annoyed with myself today. There are many reasons for that:

Reason 1

For the past 24 hours, I have been trying to come up with that "self-evaluation" form that my brain conjured up yesterday deeming it appropriate for concluding this year of unemployment, but I can't focus at all. Thoughts scatter so easily that it is absolutely impossible to gather them into any sort of train. In fact, it is impossible to even remotely understand what it is that I actually am thinking about. I actually "saw" one simple question that I posed for myself suddenly take the shape of some cartoon character, puff up until bursting into a hundred mini versions of that same cartoon characters and start running in all possible directions. I swear I didn't take any drugs.

Reason 2

We had such amazing diving this morning – an unusual absolutely no-current Cantarel with at least 16 eagle rays and potentially a pilot whale (! although we are not sure what exactly this creature was), followed by a no-current San Juan with a giant common octopus feeding on a crab's carcass and a rare opportunity to take pictures without having to hold on to the bottom for your dear life. These dives have definitely made my Top N list. What's annoying about it, you ask me? Well, we wanted to also go on a shore night dive to hunt some lobsters, bringing the ranking of today's diving from "amazing" to "unmatchable", but sure enough – as always after the beautiful Cantarel – I developed a migraine. Honestly, what is it about that site that gives me headaches? Last year, the consensus was that it should be attributed to the strenuous swimming against the current at a pretty deep depth (hmmm, is it better to say "big depth"?). But today I can rule out this hypothesis – as I mentioned, there was absolutely no current. I also had a theory of my own – that nobody supported, of course – that I'm somehow tuning in to the eagle rays' waves and this makes my head hurt. Maybe they are trying to transmit some important message to the world through me? Again, I swear I didn't take any drugsJ.

Reason 3

We went to this new place called Kondessa last night to "celebrate" my unemployment anniversary. It is owned by the same person who opened Kinta, one of my favorite restaurants on the island. Knowing Kinta and loving it very much, we were 100% certain that we would tremendously enjoy our delicious dinner. What a disappointment! The décor is really beautiful – I have to give them that. But the food is overpriced without a reason (at Kinta they have interesting and delightful dishes, so the high prices seem to be well justified) and, frankly, not that delicious. It is good food, don't get me wrong, it's just that the price-deliciousness ratio is unbalanced big time. Yesterday, we just noted this, but for some reason it only really hit all of us today. At least, I'm not alone being annoyed with this particular item. That is slightly less annoying.

Reason 4

And last but not least, I'm very much annoyed with being annoyed. I rarely feel this way and I don't like it. This is not a good start of my second happy-unemployment year. But it looks like I will just have to let it dissolve on its own, as the "emotional deportation" of this feeling doesn't seem to be an option in this case. Oh well, this too shall certainly pass…

Day 365 – 365…

I feel nervous about today. I have this idea that I must somehow summarize all my experiences for the past year and draw conclusions. Is it the business manager in me talking or is it really necessary?

At work, I had always been a big proponent of annual evaluations. But real, thoughtfully developed, meaningful ones, not just silly ratings that are good for nothing. I am certain that it is absolutely crucial for the morale and professional growth of any employee to see how the set goals are matching with the progress made, what extra-curriculum tasks they have accomplished, what obstacles have interfered with the progress and have or have not been overcome, etc. Several years ago I even created a 360-degree evaluation template tailored for our team at Strategic Insight, and we all religiously filled out the exhaustive questionnaire at the end of every year, because this process does work. It encourages you to take a breather from your daily business chores and look at the totality of your work. Otherwise, there is a really big chance we might completely forget why we are doing this work to begin with, how we contribute to the greater good of the business, and what benefits – beyond money – we are getting from it (if any).

I wish somebody had created such a questionnaire about this year of my life. I would be so happy to fill it out.

Day 364 – Dinner in Playa del Carmen

I know Renata through Tanya, they were in the same residency program at Columbia. We clicked from the moment we met – it never stops to amaze me how those things happen – and became close, as it often happens, over the matters of the heart. Renata is Brazilian – blonde, gorgeous, intelligent. When her parents were hosting me in Brazil this past April, I was really impressed by some very beautiful forest paintings on their walls, and I was shocked to learn that those were by Renata… from when she was 6 or something! She also did ballet, singing and dancing when she was a kid. She only pursues the artistic path "recreationally" now, frequenting karaoke bars and making very cool iMovies. She does love her job (she is a pathologist), but she is so obviously artistically gifted that I wonder why she didn't choose to be a full-time artist.

I often ponder the question of what role our parents play in our selecting a vocation. I, for one, was heavily influenced by my parents' thought that it would be good for me to have a prestigious at the time degree in Linguistics. In fact, I didn't have any choice in that matter. And not because my parents were "pushing" me in any way – they did no such thing in anything I have ever done in my life, but I remember always knowing without any questioning that I had to follow their choice. Why? No idea. They just managed to instill this idea somehow in me. Is this good parenting? I am still not clear on the subject. In school I was in love with chemistry and math, but I never-ever considered those paths simply because from the early childhood I knew what University and what department I would graduate from. Strange, really. At the same time, I have certainly never regretted the education I had received. I just sometimes wonder…

Renata and her boyfriend Ben are here now. Well, not "here in Cozumel" here, but very close – Playa del Carmen. I have not seen Renata for the whole year since I left and she moved to Dallas; I had never met her boyfriend either. So it was a very exciting and chatty dinner!:) And tasty, too.

P.S. Renata gave me a lovely gift – a coffee table book of… hearts! I have actually been thinking of creating a little book of hearts myself from all the images I have collected on my travels and from friends over the past year. Now I'm even more inspired to do this – it looks absolutely great and flipping through it really does lift your spirits.