A 5 Minute Intro to CS

So, NPR decided to do a story on CS. I am going to write CS here for my research field. The first word is compressed. The second is sensing. I just broke them up because of the target audience for my blog doesn't really include my fellow researchers googling the term. (By the way, if you google "Fettercairn 1824" this blog is on page 7. I run analytics that tell me how people get to the site which made me try that search. Bruichladdich has also brought someone here already.)

Anyway, here's a 5 minute segment from All Things Considered that is about CS. It might help explain what it is that I am doing.

From the Heatherlea to the Tornado House

The door to the Heatherlea has closed and I no longer have a key. What I do have, is my family. Solid. I left the Heatherlea on Monday and came back to Iowa. We call our house in Iowa the Tornado House. This isn't etched over the door like the house names of Edinburgh, but it might as well be. W named it the Tornado House while we were looking at houses in March of 2009 because it looks exactly like the farm house in all the old movies that gets destroyed by a tornado. (We bought the Tornado House over the Mansion, the Nightmare on Elm Street, and the Money Pit.)

When I return to Edinburgh, we'll be taking up two rows of a jet-liner. Right now, my dear wife is on a well deserved vacation with two friends. She tries to go every year but the first year she missed it because I made her move to New Mexico. Last year she missed it because I made her move to Iowa. This year, she's back.

Right now, I hope she's drinking a single malt, like a Bowmore 17yr or maybe a Balvenie 21yr, and thinking, "Damn I deserve this." However, she's probably drinking a beer or something girly and thinking, "Damn, I hope he remembers how to take care of the kids." Actually, she hasn't called since she left...

I am happy to report that the kids are all asleep, no one bled today, meals of reasonable nutritional value were consumed by all, grocery shopping was attempted, and the downstairs is cleaner going to bed than it was when I got up. Speaking of getting up, I am also happy to report that although the alarm didn't go off, the girls were dressed when they woke me up and said, "Dad, we need to eat breakfast so we can go to school." Not only did they eat breakfast, but they left with lunches and a simple "How 'bout a head band?" compromise sent them off on time.

Bruichladdich Peat, Islay

With all of my working and traveling and drinking beer, I have been slacking on the single malts. This one I had a few weeks ago with some friends.This is from memory, not from notes, although I wrote this one night after drinking it.

I can’t taste all the single malts in Scotland (although I can try), but I do think it is reasonable to taste all the distilleries from Islay. So, I have kissed the fruits of Ardbeg, Lagavulin, Laphraoig, Bowmore, and Caol Ila. That leaves Bruichladdich, Bunnahabhain, and Port Ellen. Since Port Ellen was shuttered 20+ years ago, all the Port Ellen is $200 per bottle. I’m pretty sure I’ll have to skip Port Ellen. But, I did manage to reduce the remaining unknowns of Islay by having a dram of Bruichladdich Peat.

Bruichladdich Peat
Islay
46% abv

(Color has been removed permanently. Stupid category.)

Nose: sweet, smoked bacon but not overwhelming. Very nice.


Palate: the first drink seemed incredibly warm, almost burning. Tastes like a smoky whisky but is balanced very well by sweetness.


Finish: It is incredibly smooth given it smells so substantial. The smoke stays with you but the sweetest is more profound in the finish. If you burned a cinnamon stick and a candy cane in a bowl, the smoke of such a fire would probably accurately portray this finish.

Overall: The first intake made me think it was alright, the second that it was good, but not special. The third changed my mind to very good and a competitor. By the end, I was thinking, “I wonder how expensive this is because it is as good as the Ardbeg and Caol Ila.” (The cheapest one wins.) I would say this is a very enjoyable liquid and certainly worth a try.

That leaves me with me the following Islay ranking:
Tier 1: Lagavulin and Bowmore (Darkest)
Tier 2: Bruichladdich, Caol Ila, Arbeg
Tier 4: Laphroaig

(Yes, I know that’s a 4.)

I'm a Leftist!

On Saturday, I bought a van and drove it straight to Costco!





Seriously, driving on the left is definitely different, but that isn't the hard part. It is a standard, and a diesel. This means, that you MUST wait to turn the ignition until a coil has warmed up. I can't remember to do this and that is going to destroy the darn van. Second, the stick is on the left, but the gears are in the same positions. On one hand, knowing where the gears are might be helpful to some. On the other hand, if you brain works like mine, I think of first gear as close and forward and wish that the gears were a mirror image of what they are in a right handed standard.

The most difficult thing is definitely the different driving styles. The roads are quite narrow and there is literally no parking. So the cars are parked on the narrow roads. There is some etiquette I hope to figure out soon on who gets to go when. For the most part, it appears to be a game of chicken.

I have had zero accidents and only one honking incident involving a roundabout, yet another fun challenge. (I've of course faced roundabouts in Germany and such, but they're a little different here. For example, here you go around them the wrong way!)

The funniest adventure was parking this in the lot behind the Heatherlea. By lot, I mean backyard. By yard, I mean very small area. The lot is at the end of a very old alley, which I believe was designed to allow single file horse caravans. The mini-van had roughly two inches of clearance on either side. I got it in, but then getting it out was a bit of an ordeal. It is a challenge to judge the distance to the left side of a car after 18 years of judging the distance to the right. It really is different. Anyway, I did a 76 point turn, only to realize I was now facing a direction which meant that I could proceed no more. So, I undid the 76 point turn, let some exasperated motorcyclists down the alley, and started over. The second go was reduced to a 23 point turn and a van facing out of the alley. Bulls-eye! (When I got back from Costco, I did the 23 point turn first, and then backed into the Heatherlea. Now I can drive straight out ... at 0.3 miles per hour hoping not to rub a mirror off the van.)

Fortunately, I have insurance!

Cambridge, Part II

These are some more pictures of my trip to Cambridge. The point here is that they are a bit lighter than the previous post. Let's get the two serious pictures out of the way. First, we have the Isaac Newton Institute for Mathematical Sciences (had to be shared).


Second, we have the gate of honor. I pulled a cheapo move and listened to a guided tour I wasn't a part of. This gate is for Trinity College and is only opened once a year. There are three gates, Humility (students pass under this everyday), Virtue (students pass under this to go eat I think) and Honor. This is only opened after exams for the graduating students. It is open for one day for them to pass in and out. Best part of that story was after he finished, a janitor came out the small door in the middle carrying a tea kettle. Everyone laughed and the guide was distraught!


Notice that on all sides of the clock tower, the clocks are sun dials. Awesome!

Anyone want to watch a wee match of little league? Yes, indeed, one must take a photo of little league cricket!


Now onto the garb. The students and faculty still where academic gowns regularly, althought I forgot to find out exactly who, when, and why. But, people would be walking around wearing gowns. I thought they looked very Harry Potter as daily wear, so I will henceforth call them cloaks. You can tell by length of sleeve and length of cloak what status a person holds. I knew someone who would like to see this, so I hid in the bushes to take a picture of a lad in a cloak crossing the street. Stupid Taxi.


Then I chased him like paparazzi!


On Thursday night, my host had a conflict so I went and walked around town myself. I took many pictures, but felt the need to share this public lawn bowling green in one of the parks.


I ended up eating fish and chips in a pub, the Baron of Beef, and drinking a few pints. I worked a bit behind the bar; good times!


I had sampled a few ales and had just enough guinness to get lost on the way home. Fortunately, I ran into these two. With those smart cloaks on, I knew they'd know the way. Thanks guy with the GPS ap on his iphone for directions and letting me taking your picture!

Cambridge

I recently went to Cambridge to give a talk in the Numerical Analysis Seminar. It was, truthfully, quite an honor and I will try to refrain from further boasting. The fact is there are a few ways to get invited to speak at Cambridge. The most notable method is to become a world leader in your field. My method was slightly less noble, but equally effective. At Edinburgh, our reading group hosted a speaker from Cambridge and we all went to dinner. I walked him home, slyly mentioned I had never been to Cambridge, and that I would love to see the medieval colleges. Shortly thereafter, I received an invitation. “Knock, and the door shall be opened.”

I will first tell you that when you meet someone from Cambridge, they are certain to tell you where they are from, even more so than academics from Harvard, Yale, or MIT. It is just cultural, they want you to know they are from Cambridge. There have been a few notable students and faculty at Cambridge. I’ll give the example of Sir Isaac Newton, who among his many accomplishments, graced us with calculus. In my biased opinion, this is indeed his greatest contribution as Newtonian mechanics are simply inexpressible without calculus, but calculus is completely independent from physics. In fact, calculus has a fantastically larger footprint than Newtonian mechanics. (To be academic, Newton shares the invention of calculus with Liebniz, and of course Newton did not invent the calculus we know and love today, but laid its foundation. I’m getting a bit off topic here.) My point is I found this need to announce affiliation with Cambridge to be a bit obnoxious, yet here I hypocritically post about speaking there. Having been there, I can see to a degree why one would let this little piece of information (affiliation of some sort with Cambridge) slip into the very early stages of conversation. The place is amazing in its history, architecture, atmosphere, landscaping, bravado, traditions, administrative structure, formality, class system, commercialization, and reputation. There's a reason that Harvard, the first institution of higher education in the USA, was founded in a town named Cambridge, Massachusetts.

You are not permitted to walk on the grass. Well, you are not permitted to walk on the grass unless accompanied by a Fellow of the college. There is actually a sign at the entrance to the colleges stating this exception to the “Keep of the Grass” signs. This is a way of compensating the senior faculty by giving them status. It was interesting to watch fellows walk across the grass. This was done less as a shortcut, and more to announce that indeed they were a fellow of the college while tourists and students walking along the stone pathways watched the fellow in the grass, unable to look away and providing this ingenious, currency-free compensation. Even trying to consider it objectively, I could not help but watch the fellows walk across the lawn, nor could I bear to see a student cut a corner.

One of the most amazing things about Cambridge is the mathematical facility, The Centre for Mathematical Sciences. It is a humungous compound, completely dedicated to the mathematical sciences including physics. There is certainly nothing to match it on the rest of our planet. You might not know any of the mathematicians, but this is where the famous physicist Stephen Hawking works. (I didn't drop in; I don't think he was expecting me.)

I could ramble on, but this is a blog and you’re already tired of reading. I’ll finish with some photos. The photos from above were taken from the top of the bell tower of St. Mary the Great University Church.

Here are some photos of King’s College. My host was once a PhD student at King's College so he is a lifetime member. He was gracious enough to take me to Evensong, a choral evening prayer service featuring the amazing Choir of King's College. You’ll notice the sign warning of doom for treading on the grass. The building behind me, was the location of dinner. The students of the college live in these buildings, surrounded by the walls. Tourists pay to enter.






The following photos are of St. John’s college.



This is inside the living area of St. John's College. These are essentially dorms for Cambridge undergrads. (Looks just like Newman Hall.)

The tower in the distance to the right in this next one is St. John's Chapel, the same tower from the photo above.


In the picture above, the college in between St. John's and Kings (to the left of this photo frame) is Trinity College. Finally, some of the Gardens of Trinity College and some pics of the River Cam.





I’ll post again shortly with a few more photos of a lighter nature. I might have incorrectly identified some of my photos, so if you're from Cambridge and I said something wrong, I hope you didn't just choke on something in reaction to my ignorance.

Royal Mile

The Royal Mile in Edinburgh extends from the Edinburgh Castle to the Palace at Holyrood. Last Saturday, I walked down to the Royal Mile and explored some whisky shops. These are some pictures I took that day with brief commentary.

I first went to St. Giles, Cathedral. Church of Scotland. My favorite thing inside is a collection of colors (flags) carried in battles from the past millenium. No photo rule I respected on the flags.


Somehow, I ended up paying a whopping £13 to be admitted to the Castle. This time, there was no angry, armed guard. I did not take a photo the Scottish crown jewels and the stone of destiny because the guard seemed ready to enforce the no photography rule. I did take a lovely tour with this guide.


Here is a view out the north facing side of the castle, below is New Town.


The soldiers of the castle adopted dogs from time to time. If the dog or owner was important enough, the dog was buried in this little doggie cemetary.


This building was erected as a memorial to the Scottish soldiers who died in WWI, the war to end all wars. In the middle is an alter with the names of all the soldiers who died in WWI on a scroll in a casket-like chest. Unfortunately, WWI did not end all wars, but the Scotts, always looking to save a buck, simply add names to the scroll rather than build a new monument. But, every Scotsman who has died in service is listed in that chest.


This castle was built on this volcanic rock and sits high above the city. It has been taken only by siege and once by stealth, but never by force. The alter in the previous paragraph is built onto the highest point of this rock which burst through the floor as the foundation of the alter.


The castle has been used to hold prisoners of war for many wars, including what they call the American War for Independence. When you tour the prisons, there is a room with three doors on display where prisoners have carved names and dates. Some of the dates were very old. This, however, was by far my favorite, an early version of the Stars and Stripes carved by a prisoner. (While I was relatively certain there was a no photo rule here as well, I looked for both a sign and a guard. Seeing neither, I photographed a 230 year old door carving which should be fine.)

A Pastoral Visit

I had my first visitor in Edinburgh, none other than Fr. Nick (my pastor in the US) and Paul (his friend and traveling buddy) who are visiting Scotland for ten days. (Before passing judgment on Paul's hair in this picture, keep reading.)


They arrived in Edinburgh on Sunday and I walked down to their hotel to meet them for dinner. We decided to head over to New Town to the posh restaurants and pubs of George Street. When asked if they were hungry, both Fr. Nick and Paul replied that they were thirsty so we looked first for a pub. We had past several unimpressive places when we stopped to take a picture of the Edinburgh Castle towering over New Town.


This lovely photo op was followed by an epic moment. As we walked to the next pub, a rather full seagull jettisoned its waste in our general direction. Protected by the holiness of the priest by my side, the very loud splattering sound revealed that Nick and I had made it through unscathed. However, the sound of irritation in Paul’s voice, “You’ve gotta be s@!#in’ me!” warned of Paul’s misfortune. Only upon his turning toward us did we see the full magnitude of his misfortune. Having known Paul for roughly twenty minutes, I felt very bad for him and headed for a bar to find some napkins; Fr. Nick, as only a true friend could, simply forced Paul to pose for pictures while he heckled him and laughed hysterically. I was getting napkins so I didn’t take a photo. While Paul was attempting to clean himself up in a pub bathroom, I did take this photo of the display on Nick’s camera. It gives the general idea.


We began with some Tennant’s at the Rose and Crescent. This is like pint number one, so despite the picture, we aren't remotely intoxicated. However, this picture does capture the spirit of the evening better than the subsequent picture.


Fr. Nick suggested we take another as proof of our sobriety after previewing the first picture. I agreed but somehow bug-eyed!


We then had dinner at Le Monde, a new age bar/restaurant on George Street with a decent sized menu. After many questions and long discussions with the staff, we all got fish and chips. Delicious for sure, but somehow not the same as the stuff from the little chip shops. I’m sure this was better for you, and even tasted better, but it wasn’t the same. Fr. Nick decided that instead of ordering side dishes, he'd have a second meal via Guinness.


We walked back to High Street and stopped in one more pub for a pint, a very nice bar with a Caledonian 80. After a bit, I headed home on a bus (it was just too cold to walk).

We had made plans for night number two, but I had to change them as the restaurant near Leslie's was closed. So, instead of a night of single malts at Leslies, we went for the subdued couple o’ pints and some Scottish fare at Greyfriar’s Bobby Bar just outside the Greyfriar’s Kirk yard. I felt like Nick and Paul had to know the story of Greyfriar’s Bobby before they left Edinburgh. (If you’re new, I wrote about this before.) I recently took this picture of the Greyfriar’s Bobby monument.


It was great fun to have Fr. Nick and Paul visit, and I hope they enjoyed my company as well. They are off to the Highlands to castles and distilleries and St. Andrew’s Golf course, and I am off to Cambridge tomorrow. I’ll let you know how my trip goes and be anxious to hear from Nick about the rest of theirs.

Anyone for Bowls?

My friends had invited me to join their tennis and bowling club and made a strong case that it would be a lovely thing for the whole family. I was skeptical. First, no one in my family plays tennis and how fun could lawn bowling really be. On top of that, what would you do with the kids? Nine days ago, they convinced me by simply taking me to the club for a picnic and some lawn bowling.





This bowling is not like the lawn bowling set one picks up on clearance at Wally-world. The slightly skewed ellipsoids are called bowls and they definitely do not travel in a straight line (unless hurled through air). They are rolled (bowled) along a trajectory that bends toward the target, a white ball named jack. As you see in my picture below, the bowls are marked with a small dot and a larger dot. The small dot is the direction to which the bowl will turn. This seems pretty simple, but I have sent a few bowls down the green only to be absolutely appalled as they started turning away from the illusive jack. (Reminder: blow up the picture by clicking on it.)



If you watched much curling during the Olympics, it is very similar (except there are no brooms, the ground is warmer, and it is much harder to slide along on one foot). The idea is to get your bowls closer to the jack; you score 1 point for each of your bowls that is closer than all of the opponent’s bowls. That’s the whole game. Since octogenarians run rampant on the bowling greens, you are misled to believe the game is easy. Our first attempts left an array of bowls that looked like the jack was sitting on top of a hill. We got better, but still have little chance to compete against the old men on the bowling green. Here’s a better introduction.



Apparently the game is dying in the US, but is alive and well in Edinburgh. Essentially every neighborhood has a bowling club. I wonder if I can put a bowling green in my back yard? George Washington had one!

PS: This hundred push-up challenge is humbling. I tried starting on week 4 and after one work out, dropped back to week 3. The last exercise of the two days is to max out and do at least X push-ups. Um, I can't.

Push-Update

So you may recall that at the beginning of April I stated I would do at least 2000 push-ups in April. All was going remarkably well. On April 14 I had completed 1455 push-ups. I was pacing to shatter my goal of 2000. Then something happened. I can’t quite put a finger on it.

Oh yeah, I stopped doing push-ups. I did 85 over the next 13 days. So it was April 28 (1540) when I realized I was about to fail a self-imposed challenged not because of injury or conflicting obligations, but because I had given up. It turned to midnight, no push-ups. I now had 48 hours to complete 460 push-ups. Yikes, that was nearly half of my goal for all of March. So I cranked out 90 and went to bed. When I woke up, I was sure I was defeated. I still had 370 push-ups to go. But I did sets of 30 or 40 and busted out another 250 before midnight. So the 24 hours that was April 29 was witness to 340 push-ups. Now I was saved if I wasn’t too sore to do any more.

The next day I was sore, but not too sore. I did 90 before I went to work. That evening I went lawn bowling with Jared and Cora (more on that later) and went home relatively late. Just before 11:30pm, I realized I had a few more to do, so I rolled off 31 so as to exceed my goal.

2001 push-ups in April

(17% of them on April 29)

3451 since March 1

So what about for May? What's my challenge this month? I like the idea of doing two thousand push-ups as I really want to get to ten thousand. However, I feel a bit silly breaking them all up into little sets of 30 or 40. So, I'm going to build push-up endurance by starting in week four of the 100 push-up challenge wildly named onehundredpushups. When I am done, I'm buying a t-shirt. Who wants to do this with me?

PS: After posting with large gaps in between, I posted two in a row here over the weekend. Scroll.

I Love Volcanoes

So we all know there was a little hiccup in the aviation industry in Europe caused by a little volcanic activity out of Iceland. Okay, so it wasn’t little and it was more than a little hiccup. Anyway, I flew back to Edinburgh on the 26th, the target for having cleared the list of backlogged passengers. I had anticipated an offer of compensation to not fly, but no such offer was presented, likely do the funds lost during the ash cloud fiasco. Anyway, what this meant was that the planes were absolutely full.

To me, the planes being absolutely full meant a little upgrade to first class on the Des Moines to Chicago leg. Then, there was a mechanical issue and we took off 60 minutes late. Now Des Moines to Chicago is a 52 minute flight, so a good tail wind wasn’t going to be sufficient. I landed 27 minutes after my flight for London had left. At first, I feared this would be a significant setback as they might move me back from economy plus to the standard economy seats. In the end, to my pleasure, my star alliance silver status instead bought me an upgrade to business class for the transatlantic flight.

When I was rebooking, they offered me business class for $800 which I refused. So, the volcano was kind enough to score me an $800 upgrade. Is the upgrade worth the $800? My frugal (i.e. cheap) nature instinctively wants to say “no” but then I sat there. First of all, each seat has many levels of adjustment like a good lazy-boy recliner. The best part is that with the push of a button, the seat goes to 180°, a complete, flat bed. I have never slept this well on a plane. It alone was worth $100 if being rested upon arrival is important (which, really it wasn’t for me).

Oh, did I mention that I didn’t try to go to sleep until after the three course meal? There was Champaign upon boarding, followed by an aperitif just after takeoff when I ordered my dinner from the menu. Then, I selected wine from the wine list which came just before my appetizer. Bread was brought around in a basket for you to select from. I was asked if I would like to switch wines for the main course, but I stuck with my selection for the braised beef. This was seriously good airplane food. For dessert, I selected the assorted cheese tray (rather than the cheesecake) to accompany the port they offered. I declined the selection of liqueurs. I considered ordering an after dinner Scotch, but decided I didn’t really need to get introduced to any of the hidden air marshals.

So after the little dinner, I talked with the geneticist next to me for a while and then hit the “bed” button. I slept for about 4 hours straight… on a plane. When I woke up, I was served breakfast consisting of a lovely fruit plate, yogurt, and endless croissants. During this time, I watched an episode of The Mentalist on my 24 inch on demand TV. I arrived at Heathrow, in high spirits.

Of course I had also missed my connection to Edinburgh, so I was rebooked into row 6. This time dumb luck rather a volcano was on my side. The scheduled aircraft had a maintenance failure and the planes were swapped out. The new plane had exactly 6 rows of first class.

Is it worth $800 to fly business across the Atlantic? I say certainly not on a western journey. On an Eastern Journey, in my opinion it is definitely worth $150-$200. Therefore, having experienced it now, I would say that $800 is a tangible example of a good pricing strategy. A cheapo like me doesn’t value it enough to do it, but enough people will value this as a good deal to make it profitable.

Also, all the folks flying First and Business class are actually paying for roughly half of our economy tickets. They should be thanked as you board. Everyone in first class likes their ego stroked, so the next time you pass through first class, just say sincerely, “Thanks for paying for most of my ticket!”