The thin grad line

Singular. And prime.

noreply@blogger.com (Whiskas) — Sun, 01 Jan 2012 15:50:00 +0000

"Odd" ("ímpar"), in Portuguese, not only describes "odd" as in "uneven", but also - the translation I choose to title this post - "singular" - which to me has a much more appealing sound. Plain "odd" reminds me of "strange", typically in less-than-complimentary ways - absolutely not what I want to use here.

Exactly as I said just over a year ago, 2011 kept true to the crescendo all past years have been building upon. Not only all the new destinations, friendships, adventures and results - both in Cycling as in Physics - brought novel and superlative experiences: the year was a fantastic one precisely for those far more abstract things which didn't make the list below. 2011 taught me to appreciate the subtle lacks of coherence, and made me understand what self-confidence really means. It showed me I could truly embrace Yay! as a lifestyle.

While those more impalpable concepts will be subject of future posts, I leave you now with 100 of those moments which could be grasped, in one way or another, through a photograph or image of some sort, in my Picasa gallery of the year:

Two-thousand, eleven.

By the way, the 305th prime number.

On Speed Machines and Time Concepts

noreply@blogger.com (Whiskas) — Mon, 12 Dec 2011 23:13:00 +0000

A few months ago, Cervélo landed a magnificent marketing coup when Craig 'Crowie' Alexander, until then sponsored by Spanish bike manufacturer Orbea, showed up to race the Half-Ironman Championships with an unbranded P4. He went on to win the race, and the interwebs were ablaze with rumours surrounding his equipment change. Orbeas, which I'll group together with most Italian manufacturers, do look the part, but are typically not believed to be particularly fast designs - a reputation that better befits technically-oriented brands, to which Cervélo is almost a synonym, but which also includes names such as Trek, Scott, BMC, Felt or Specialized - so it was not surprising he'd pick a supposedly much faster frame for one of the most important races of the year. But he didn't race on a Speed Concept or on a Plasma. He didn't pick a Time Machine, nor a Felt DA. Not even a Shiv from the Big S, which turned out to become his sponsor, announced only a few weeks after his 70.3 win. No, he was on a P4, the distinctive downtube features clearly giving away a product from a certain Ontario-based design office...

Now, without a doubt, all recent designs from any of those in the latter list are fast, as in wind-tunnel fast. Their relative ordering is disputable and depends on a number of not-so-well-agreed-upon criteria (just a few days ago, I was reading yet another interesting discussion on this topic on Slowtwitch), but it's undeniable that the proper engine is capable of winning aboard any of those überbikes. Nevertheless, it's still interesting to note that, whenever someone fast is paying for their own bike (or rebadging their sponsors'), they somehow tend to end up with, yes, a Cervélo.

That all said, and while still a fan of their products, I am genuinely considering other options for my next time-trial machine. I currently ride a P2C, which is no slouch by itself, but the bike has had its years - and if I am to put down so much on the line for that one ride in the summer, I want to have access to all the help I can afford. Now, I'm sure that a P4 - or even a well-set P3, for that matter - wouldn't be, just as I argued above, a sub-par performer, but it's got some features missing that I'd really like addressed before committing myself to a new ride. It's precisely the process of electing a new successor that motivates the writing of this post, but I'll get to that in a moment.

First, as most of you already know, I'm switching teams for the next season, joining the fine folks of Magnesium Pur in idyllic Upper Bavaria. Regardless of the other sporting reasons that motivated my move, one major selling point was the team's fascination with all technical aspects of cycling, and in particular, aerodynamics. Wind tunnels tests, airflow simulations, detailed studies on skinsuit design, you name it - a typical team gathering will have bike geeks fervourously discussing airfoil shapes and wheel test results published in the latest issue of Tour. Befitting this level of attention, the team is heading towards a stance of independency with regards to its equipment suppliers. While at first glance one could expect that our performances would warrant sponsorship from different cycling-related brands, this approach is not entirely unreasonable: if we accept that different races have different material needs, and that the best equipment is not always provided by the same company, then remaining "independent" can actually be an asset, enabling team members to cherry-pick components according to their own criteria.

And so I come to my dilemma. While touted as "the world's first fully integrated...", the P4 still requires an external front brake, thus denying itself of a clean, cable-shaven front-end, and its integrated aero bottle design has been ruled illegal by our adorable friends in the UCI. I would also add to the list some compatibility issues with the wider Stinger wheels, but I'm not completely sure what the current status in the latest 2012 frames is. Maybe the new P5 will adress these issues, but as with every new design, I'm sure that will come with a significant premium.

One of the main contenders is Trek's Speed Concept. Not only did the Wisconsin company bring out a wealth of technical data in its praised white paper, Trek happens to be carried by the local shop which will support our team in 2012, and they were quick to offer us good deals on next year's models. I must admit that, at first, I hadn't given it much attention, perhaps snubbing them due to my association of that brand with certain teams and athletes. After dissecting it more thoroughly, though, I can say that their engineering folks did a commendable job. Were it not for, again, a few minor features, it would be an easy choice - the Kammtail foil shape and the smooth headtube lines yield a surprisingly attractive package. But, while perhaps its biggest selling point, some of its integration choices backfire - for me at least. Its proprietary BB90 bottom bracket standard is incompatible with my current power meter; its integrated stem give me no choice but to go with a Bontrager aerobar, and - come on, no horizontal dropouts?

And then, there's the Time Machine. OK, let's be open here: since the day when I first caught a glimpse of her - and that was back in 2004 - my heart was sold. Already then, the early model of the BMC Time Machine had innovative features which only came to be adapted by other manufacturers many years later: notice the smooth, fast-looking bayonet fork, or the integrated stem, for instance. The latest iteration - the TM01, launched just a few months ago - received raving reviews, highlighting its clean looks and integrated features. It adopts an 'open' bottom bracket standard, and its modular stem allows me to pick my choice of aerobars. And, moving away from its former custom-made sizing paradigm - bare frames were then quoted at over ten thousand dollars, trip to Switzerland for fitting not included - and now based on more traditional mold sizes, the price dropped significantly, with framesets hitting the stores for under three thousand euros. Still a truckload of money, but now one no longer has to consider selling the car...

However, and depending on how you read this, it could be a deal-breaker, BMC hasn't released a single ounce of data to support the otherwise exciting features their marketing department is so keen to highlight. Now, Cadel and Raelert are definitively not riding a machine which is putting them in a disadvantage, and I can also understand Styrell's idea that BMC operates like a F1 constructor, refraining from sharing their products' data with the competition, but still, it would be nice to know that at least one wind tunnel agrees with your investment...
- - -
We may be on the brink of a new cold war, at least if you follow the more pessimistic analysis of what has been happening in Iran. The Euro has been hinging on the verge of collapse. Extremist right-wing groups are on the news spotlight every other day. Back in South America, a nation-wide debate is taking place over the construction of a major hydroelectric plant and the ensuing environmental consequences. With different degrees of interest, I've been following the developments in these and other equally relevant stories. But, in spite of it all, I'd rather invest my brain cycles writing about carbon fiber frames costing more than my entire savings - or the combined annual income of a small family in sub-Saharan Africa, for what it's worth.

The idea of making a bid for an Olympic spot next year has been growing on me, perhaps precisely due to its almost intangibility. As I have already noted, I have this inextricable urge to sail uncharted waters, to dare facing the risks. To go for broke. There are innumerous roadblocks and question marks which will have to be addressed, the selection of a new timed-race machine being but a small cog in a much larger wheel, even if a cog that I want to have particularly well oiled. Finding out more about the performances of my adversaries, the likely obscure selection criteria, and my own capability for pulling the ride of my life, all while somehow managing to put together a Ph.D. thesis and finding an economically-viable occupation afterwards, will surely keep my side of things very interesting for the next few months.

It may well be the end of the world as we know it, but I feel fine. Yay!

Something rotten in Aigle

noreply@blogger.com (Whiskas) — Tue, 22 Nov 2011 14:56:00 +0000

[Note 1: This post is based on a recent commentary to a piece discussing the UCI radio ban.]
[Note 2: Enough of Academia for a while. Time to bring out more cycling pieces.]

Cyclingnews recently had yet another story on the much-debated radio ban issue. While it has received attention from many in the upper echelons of the sport (this piece by Gerard Vroomen of Cervélo comes to mind), I believe that the amateur racers are the ones most negatively affected by the lack of electronic communication - and I say this while wholeheartedly agreeing with all the points presented by my colleagues in the professional ranks. See, a ProTour race will typically have an armada of commissaires ahead of the race, police escort on motorbikes, and a large number of team cars following. If a rider breaks away, or drops back, with sufficient likelihood he won't be entirely on his own across some desolated landscape. On the other hand, and I speak with sufficient experience from events across South America and Eastern Europe, amateur races may sometimes have only one or two cars with race officials, and most teams, if at all, can only afford one car to follow the race. In these situations, the ability to convey a message to your team becomes crucial, lest one is left stranded in the middle of nowhere with over 50km to the nearest village - a situation that happened to me once in Northern Uruguay.

Also, to the argument presented by the UCI, that radios take away from the excitement and tactical unpredictability, I guess this makes even less sense in the amateur ranks, where the performance spectrum among competitors in a typical race is much broader than in the typical ProTour race - I assume the pro field is much more homogeneous, though this may be up for argumentation. Nevertheless. The few amateur teams capable of summoning their riders up front to coordinate a chase and bring back a breakaway group already do so independently of radios; I'd venture to say that the only occasion when the lead riders gain a significant, multi-minute advantage on the (amateur) field is when the stronger riders are riding in it; and would hold such lead independently of exact splits being communicated by radio or otherwise to the peloton behind.

Unfortunately, amateur riders have very little leverage to question or protest such rulings (and don't get me started on the material regulations!), and rely on the voice of our pro representatives in the hope that the concerning decisions will eventually trickle down to the lower ranks. Perhaps it's time the concerned amateurs voice their opinion, if not to the Aigle officials of the UCI, then to the responsible regional and national federations, which could still overturn the ban for the sake of improved racing and safety conditions.

Something rotten in Denmark

noreply@blogger.com (Whiskas) — Mon, 14 Nov 2011 19:37:00 +0000

Columbia Lake, Waterloo, Ontario. A beautiful, if windy, Autumn afternoon. I took the opportunity of my advisor being half way across the globe to also head out of Erlangen and spend a week with my girlfriend, working from home during my stay.

I actually had the intention of attending a conference in Los Angeles in the beginning of December, which would have brought me to Waterloo a few weeks lheater. But that didn't follow through, and as I walked back in that sunny afternoon, I figured the reasons, or lack thereof, were worth writing about.

As some of you know - and this is all largely irrelevant to the story at hand, but helps better situate those unfamiliar with my research - my Ph.D. revolves around quantum information theory, with an emphasis on possible quantum optical implementations. One long-standing question in the field is, "what are the minimal resources needed to accomplish a certain task?" - which has different answers depending on which task is being considered. I'm working at answering this question with some particular assumptions on the resources, where the 'task' is error correction - in other words, safeguarding the information being transmitted through a potentially lossy or noisy channel. Anyway. I'm trying to generalize a certain previous result, lifting some assumptions on the resources to better match what is currently experimentally achievable. At first, we thought this would be a fairly straightforward deal - maybe so simple as to have been overlooked by the original authors. As we progressed, we identified a number of roadblocks, and as usual, overcoming them involves developing new tools, or, as we have it, expanding an existing method to other classes of systems. Simply put, I want to expand the result of A. et al, using a generalization of the method developed by B. et al.

As of this moment, the formal proof is still pending, but I have a fairly good idea of how the structure of the result looks like - and this is what, a few months ago, I intended to submit to the conference. By the time the event came around, I thought, maybe I'd have managed to find the missing pieces of the puzzle; if not, A., B., and other experts on the previous results and methods I'm working with, would be in the audience, and could eventually provide insightful comments helping me put together the definitive solution. How naive of me.

My advisor veto'ed the submission. He believes that presenting an incomplete work could give rival groups (more on that in a second) an edge, and they, being experts in the subject matter at hand, could end up arriving at the intended result before we managed to get ours ready for publishing. I countered, saying they could be brought as co-authors in an eventual paper reporting the findings. Nope. "It's probably best not to bring additional people on board the project at this time", his words. As most people in Academia will agree, this is a simple case of protecting our investment, just as any industry will not reveal a new product before its patent is applied for.

All would be well, but for the fact that we're not a for-profit research company. See, my scholarship is funded by the German Research Association (DFG, Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft) - which, in turn, is mostly funded by the State, which, as we all know, is kept by taxpayers' money. One could argue that the goal behind sponsoring my research is to deliver some contribution to the people - of the state of Bavaria, of the Federal Republic of Germany, or even of the whole European Community - however indirect this contribution may be. Now, one of the "rival" groups turns out to be from another university distant maybe 400km from ours, and, alas!, they are also sponsored by public-funded agencies - in fact, we have even collaborated in writing some grant proposals together. The other rival group comes indeed from a different continent, but once more, they are also funded by taxpayers' money, and, again, are our 'partners' when it comes to applying to joint European-North American research projects. Am I the only one seeing the irony here?

As I entertained thoughts of throwing the towel a few weeks ago - an activity I engage in, for now, for entertainment purposes only - I contemplated releasing all my unpublished - and sometimes unfinished - results into the public domain. Who knows, there may be another Ph.D. student somewhere, also stuck on similar points, who could learn from my mistakes and, if not arriving at the correct result, at least avoid getting stuck for months in the same issues that I spent so much time on. My loss could be your gain.
- - -
I love sharing my training logs, workouts and power numbers - besides technical and tactical advice - out in the open, fully knowing that my competitors may be reading it all as well (and no, I don't think I warrant such level of attention by my adversaries, but that's another story). If I am to be beaten, it's because the other man was indeed stronger. If I am to win, hopefully it will be in a race made as hard as possible by all other competitors - and that includes my, hopefully positive, contribution to their performance.

Funny how so many parallels can be drawn between cycling and academia. Supply - of both aspiring amateur cyclists and graduate wanna-be scientists - is ample, whereas demand - for research professors, or professional cyclists - is stagnant at best. That a competitive environment should result is not in the least questioned. But still, and specially so when such environment ceases to be healthy and stimulating, and acquires a crippled, poisonous stance, one must be able to realize that, sometimes, winning at all costs isn't winning at all.
- - -
Yet another whinny post to justify stepping down from my goals? Far from it. As I've said time and again, I believe in an extricate life-work-sport combination which, in its balance, includes a healthy dose of insanely unbalanced acts. Somehow, striving in adverse conditions has a very appealing factor - and even more so if it can be associated with "fighting the good fight", a perspective through which I can see both my sportive and academic endeavours.

Now, if you were to ask me whether it's possible for one to nurture a meaningful relationship while simultaneously defending a Ph.D. and attempting to make it in the highest sporting level? Hmmm... challenge accepted.

Another century of fakers.

noreply@blogger.com (Whiskas) — Tue, 11 Oct 2011 15:58:00 +0000

It was a typical Fall day, grey, cold, and rainy. Mathematica was taking too long to calculate an expression, leading me to alt-tab to my browser, fire up google maps, and start daydreaming: "we should do this ride someday", "hmm, maybe one can drive all the way to...", or, "I should take the train and follow this route..." .

I drifted east, and further east. And, realizing I knew very little of some northern-India province, I wikipedia'ed it. And then clicked through to China. And further to the relations between those countries, and Taiwan. And some other countries in the region. And their takes on strategic nuclear war. Non-proliferation treaties, non-first-use policies, minimum credible deterrences. And somehow I landed at the Sovereign Military Order of Malta. (PapaTango, anyone?). Snap. Wake up, Neo.
- - -
Over the past week, my Brazilian friends were involved in a discussion on that country's local state of affairs, following a very revealing interview by the president. At one point, one noted that many of us had actually already left the country, precisely or in part due to some of the issues underlying the current problems. However, we were also quick to realize that other countries, including those which currently serve as havens to those in exile, may be doomed the same fate, however possibly through different mechanisms or in different time scales. Time will tell how different cultures will deal with this increasing entropy; nevertheless an exhaustive treatise on social thermodynamics is beyond the scope of the present rambling (for which this paragraph serves merely as some sort of reminder or placeholder).
- - -
One of the following is true:
- no matter how much I devote myself to understanding, classifying, and eventually working towards the solution of all those outstanding issues, I won't make a single, measurable difference; or
- there's a non-zero probability of causing change. Cue to the disputed Margaret Mead quote, "Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has. "
- - -
The staggering popular repercussion following Apple's CEO Steve Job's passing have astonished me. I remember wearing a black armband once, after the passing of a famous Brazilian sportsman, some fifteen years ago. For a moment I wondered if my relationship to sports, and athletes, was so different from that to technology, and its inventors - but found them to be more alike than apart. Still, all those the flowers and candles across, virtually, all countries which have access to a modern computer?

It's not that I want to defend my own sci/tech heroes - however I should believe that there are much worthier contributions from, say, Tim Berners-Lee, Richard Stallman, or Linus Torvalds. Rather, it's about those countless, virtually unknown, members of the community, who, maybe as a matter of principle, will never be in the spotlight, but yet, through their unsung efforts, keep the vast and complex structure afloat which enables this iGadget generation to enjoy those very instances for which they now praise but one single icon.
- - -
Behold, the calculation has reached some result... but, alas!, again, it doesn't match. Back to the drawing board - it seems I'll get to write more soon...

The Atlantic was (re)born today

noreply@blogger.com (Whiskas) — Tue, 04 Oct 2011 06:36:00 +0000

It was June and we were in Munich for the weekend. We had camped by a lake, gone biking in the Alps, ran a 10k run, and were wrapping it up with a concert by Death Cab for Cutie. The final song played was Transatlanticism, for which we had been waiting the whole evening. The first few keystrokes of the intro led us to embrace; I cried joyfully throughout the whole performance as we celebrated a long-awaited victory over the dreaded waters which, for so many turbulent months, we had so often cursed.

Fast-forward 16 weeks, and our summer bliss went by too fast.

Yesterday, driving back from the airport, the soundtrack from that concert somehow made its way to my playlist. The ocean was back, and though some perspectives may be quite different this time around - it is still less of a lake, and more of a moat. May it be not for long.

I need you so much closer.

Dear Humans: you're doing it wrong, part II

noreply@blogger.com (Whiskas) — Tue, 28 Jun 2011 14:33:00 +0000

Once upon a time¹, in a land far, far away², an Institution located in the distant, forgotten realms of its kingdom³ offered free meals during colloquium and seminar talks which were held over lunchtime. The exact reasons such noble act of charity took place is unknown; some defended the hypothesis that, by offering free food, graduate scholarships could be kept lower; others were adamant to a Dilbert'ian argument, in which the meals were just part of an intricate mechanism which, masked under a veil of convenience, had the evil intent of denying the poor students' of the bright daylight which shined outside, keeping them longer in the dark confines of their academic dungeons⁴.

One day⁵, a note was posted on the citadel's walls⁶. It read

Dear members,
Due to the unavailability of a speaker for today's talk it will be cancelled. Lunch will be for sale in the first floor kitchen at the price of $5 a serving (Cabbage rolls or Lasagna).
Sorry for any inconvenience.

So would begin the story of Joe Student⁷, who, being already on his way to the Institute when said email was sent, was denied of the chance to plan accordingly, eventually buying lunch elsewhere or preparing a more nutritious and less expensive meal alternative at home to be brought along. Fortunately for the readers of this post, our hero had long left those dominions, and, having sailed across the wide oceans back to his original dwellings, so avoided further instalments of this tragedy to develop.
- - -
Or maybe not. Still subscribing to IQC's mailing list, I couldn't help meddling with the affairs of others. Your struggle is my struggle, or something like that. Ergo, these ramblings.

Academia in general, and the Institute for Quantum Computing in this particular example, should strive towards a consistent and responsible behaviour with regards to its members. While it is commendable that, given the RAC buildings' inaccessible location, lunch is provided (and furthermore, in a free-of-charge fashion, usually thrice a week), and while still noting that it is not the particular monetary value in question that should matter - though graduate students living on a tight budget from a scholarship may fully disagree - still one should not impart on the students and researchers the hindrance or misfortune of a last-minute cancellation of a lunch talk, lest at some point the quest for a speaker may end up worded as "please deliver a seminar talk during lunchtime, otherwise we'll be obliged to pay for food".

A discussion on the benefits and disadvantages of the lunch seminar series, or furthermore on whether the offering of free food can be seen as (unqualified) social aid or alms, or even on the laughable conditions faced by students which leads to the above points at all being issues worthy of mention, is beyond the scope of this post - for now.
- - -
[1] "Nowadays" doesn't sound as nice.
[2] Waterloo, Canada.
[3] The RAC buildings, a good half hour walk from the University ring.
[4] The windowless 2003 or 2117 rooms.
[5] Today.
[6] An email sent out to the Institute's mailing list
[7] The author.

The Loneliness of a Middle-Distance Runner

noreply@blogger.com (Whiskas) — Thu, 09 Jun 2011 13:13:00 +0000

This started as a meta-post, intended to test the theory, proposed a few weeks ago, that writing a post the day(s) before a race led me to win it. I've long wanted to name a post after this song, and, why not, I figured I could put together a few words and give this hypothesis a shot. (Edit: race results are posted on the comments - maybe I should write more often...)
- - -
I have a cold, not bad enough to take me out of the running entirely, but just sufficiently bothersome to spoil the good feelings which were otherwise leading up to the Franconian Time-Trial championships. Nevertheless, I had a good taper, and at least on paper have put solid performances in the past few weeks. It would be a shame to see it all stumble because of a slightly sore throat and aching joints, and yet - winning shouldn't matter, as the journey was, once again, a most delightful one.
- - -
All my hopes and expectations, though, revolve around much higher orbits than those of my cycling performance - or the current status of my doctoral research, for that matter. Curiously, sometimes nothing changes, and all is different. Equally, one can undergo earth-shattering turmoils, and in the midst of such changes, find that which still remains constant.

The future's looking colourful
It's the colour of blood, chaos and corruption of a happy soul
A happy soul will ride in the field
'Til the rain dies down.

Euphoria, delusion and sudden rushes of perspective.

noreply@blogger.com (Whiskas) — Fri, 27 May 2011 15:36:00 +0000

Just a few days after "The Consecration of Spring" went online, I soloed to win the Cadolzburg "Frühjahrsstrassenpreis" classic, my third race of the season. Matched perhaps only to my prologue win in the 2008 500 Millas, my first 'real' victory in European soil was the first step in what I still hope to be a very successful campaign towards, well, higher sporting goals. It resulted in a healthy and most welcome dose of exhilaration and ecstasy, the result being celebrated on both sides of the Atlantic in the days afterwards...But aiming higher means facing higher challenges - and this couldn't have been better exemplified than my category upgrade following that victory. Racing as an Elite B rider, most of my races are now of the so-called KT/A/B form, which means not only the top Elite A riders (the top 200 amateurs in Germany), but also some professional teams (KT's). My first race in this new class proved to be a disaster: the fast pace was absolutely unforgiving of my absolute lack of handling skills, which, in the lower categories, could usually be compensated by sheer horsepower. Being shelled out after only a few laps was something I hadn't experienced since my first days racing as an amateur in Europe, and reminded me there's still a long way to go. A disappointing ride in the State Championships and a couple of interrupted training sessions, unable to meet the target power outputs, further kept my cycling bliss in check.

Still, a fortnight later, I've managed a top-20 placing in a B/C race, and even made my way into some prize money. And last weekend, my team-mate Ivo found his legs in the Passau circuit race, and netted a fine victory ahead of the charging pack, and now joins me in the B ranks. The entire team's performance over this early season has been commendable, and if such wave continues, I'm sure we'll soon have others making the upgrade - which should hopefully translate into loads of fun in the upcoming criterium season...
- - -
I've been continuously battling oscillating feelings about my PhD and Academia in general - as already extensively discussed in previous posts. Following a scientific career is becoming less appealing with each passing day, and as such, it's been a struggle not to throw it all to the wind when, for instance, an email sent out to the students insists we follow a more regular schedule in the office. Yeah, right, just like the lemmings working for a pay check...

Interweaved with this dissatisfaction are a number of issues which may soon find their way into a second instalment of my critics of how mankind in general, or academia in particular, has been managing itself. From clearly less-than-optimally employing its resources, to using chauvinistic arguments in its selection processes, to steering otherwise fabulous minds into burnout, not to mention driving families apart - I'm sure we could have it so much better.

Nevertheless, and perhaps precisely for I'm currently facing issues of a more technical nature in my research, my stubbornness insists that I should soldier on, if only to ascertain the correct factors in this - eventually already made - decision. The first coffee in on the house.

(Yet, still in the PhD thread, I can add a small plug to a new paper with Dave and Xiongfeng, just posted on the arXiv (1105.2811). We take a previous proposal for implementing Device-Independent Quantum Key Distribution (DIQKD) with heralded photonic amplifiers, and find that a simple, experimentally-realisable modification of the optical circuit is capable of entirely eliminating the vacuum component on the conditional output state found after the amplification stage, thus enabling higher violations of the Bell inequality which lead, ultimately, to higher key rates. Now, I'm not particularly excited by QKD, and maybe my contribution was rather small, but I'm still happy to show some results. If only my main QEC theorem made it through the formal scrutinizing process... )
- - -
I made it to 28 (and am now just one year behind my count of transatlantic crossings, but that doesn't matter here). While growing old is apparently unavoidable, how one deals with it makes all the difference. For, as Seneca puts it, “it’s not that we have a short time to live, but that we waste a lot of it". Peter Pan-ish feelings...

Thoughts from the past keep coming back to me. Some dating back to the beginning of my PhD - in a déjà-vu of an earlier summer night daydream - or from even more distant years - my plans of youth, of triathlons and the Pacific Northwest - have come to meet the still fresh ideas I've been developing in the past few days and weeks. Keeping them all in due perspective has been pivotal in enjoying the ride, and assuring me to continue with that which has been my most constant status phrase of the last few months:
Always Yay!

The Consecration of Spring

noreply@blogger.com (Whiskas) — Fri, 08 Apr 2011 20:36:00 +0000

(Original em Português abaixo)

The season, once again, inspired his writing. A piece by Stravinsky, picturing an ancient pagan ritual, was elected to title his story - which could, equally have been named "All the world's clichés": he experienced, at the time, a collection of all phrases he had been collecting since his youth. Torn between the two possibilities, and unsatisfied with titles spanning multiple lines, the image and symbolism of Springtime baptised the text.
- - -
The boy, who once believed to have understood the secrets of life by watching stones that wept motionlessly alone, but now understood, in all its strength, the distinction between knowing the path and walking down it, had slept little, being troubled with foolish concerns, foolish for he knew they would not be solved through his restless thoughts. He struggled not to focus his concentration in these troubles, and so, as one who, in the hope of falling asleep, remains awake precisely due to the perception of still being conscious, failed in his attempts by the very perseverance of his efforts.

His therapy, and the only which seemed to make any effect in light of the circumstances, was to ride his bicycle - and he found in the situation surrounding him the best motivation to devote himself to hard training sessions. That first day after the equinox, marking the beginning of the new season, he rode directly against the stiff northerly winds - and, despite its resistance, felt light, almost as if propelled, perhaps by the sun warmly shining on his back, or by the odours emanating from the fields, still fresh from the previous day's rain. He rejoiced the course he was about to tackle - the climb up the mountain of the Fire Stone Castle, an ascent, not particularly long or steep, but having some elements - the twisting hairpins, the section across a small village or through a forest, the view from the top - which reminded him of other climbs, popularized by the French mystic of the twenty-three days in July, whose glamour he had glimpsed when riding them, almost seven years ago. Dancing on the pedals, he was sent back to that period, where, climbing those very mountains, he knew no limits to his two-wheeled ambitions. Brought back to his current state by the lactic acid burning in his legs, sweating and breathing heavily, but with mind and soul clear as few times before, he decided to go for broke and invest in a new quest after those long-forgotten dreams.
- - -
Almost a week later, on the eve of the month of April, leaving his Institute's campus heading towards the parking lot, he was euphoric - and equally perplexed, for he knew not the reason to his euphoria.

The training sessions that week, and his performance in the first race of the season, had been good, but the numbers were nothing spectacular, and his placement, especially given the magnitude of his sporting goals, were not nearly as impressive as he would have expected.

Equally, the latest meeting with his advisor could have been described as productive, but he definitively had had better and more inspiring ones; even his attempt to gain support for attending an overseas conference had been met with only moderate enthusiasm, and he persisted with that partially cynical look towards the importance of his results, which he did not yet know how to fit in the context of those plans and ideals that had motivated him, years ago, to follow down the Thin Grad Line. Nevertheless, making sure that he had positive feelings about his academic developments, he concluded he was satisfied about them, but knew at the same time that the origin of his present state of mind was not to be found in his work.

He also believed that source was not to be found in the - even if far from being troubled, still highly delicate and very much peculiar - beginning of a new relationship. The situation surrounding it, and all its implications, he did not fully understand; and despite some promising signs, there were no assurances, and this was perhaps the only certainty that he took after extensively deliberating on the matter - the absence of absolutes, almost as if a requirement for love, or, on a more fundamental level - if something can ever be described as more fundamental than love - for one's whole being, to be experienced in its full extent.

Still walking towards the parking lot, he observed the beautiful sunset of that spring day - and remembering that he had trained on the inside, and so failed to improve his cycling tan, imagined this was not the reason for his unlimited joy. Heading home after shopping for groceries, he made plans for a romantic date with the revision of an absolutely unimpressive research article intended to be submitted in the coming days - and so, or even so, in complete absence of any indication that justified such, he had the sensation of being the owner of the world, or something very close to it, and felt fantastically well. He briefly recorded his thoughts and feelings in a quick note, and perceived himself to be happy, and did not understand why, but still yearned for comprehension.

He then remembered that, for one unable to listen to the music, those dancing were deemed to be insane. He smiled, and danced to the melody which, inaudibly, made up the soundtrack of his journey.
- - -
He got to work on a Friday morning, where milder temperatures, contrasted with the warm summer evening experienced the day before, reminded him that spring was really just in its infancy. Greeting his colleagues, he entered his office and prepared himself a coffee (the cappuccino, he insisted, was the best north of the Danube). Tasting it, the sweet and now lukewarm milk contrasting the bitterness of the espresso, he contemplated the season, and all the metaphors represented by its unfolding. He was aware the epilogue did not symbolize necessarily an ending. Time was still passing, the wind outside still blowing, and the waters unendingly flowing - but, paradoxically, remembering that the journey was his destination, he concluded, joy-filled, he was continuously arriving.

A Sagração da Primavera

noreply@blogger.com (Whiskas) — Fri, 08 Apr 2011 19:02:00 +0000

A estação, novamente, inspirava sua escrita. Elegia uma composição de Stravinsky, baseada na imagem de um ritual pagão, para intitular seu conto - mas, poderia, igualmente, empregar "Todos os clichês do mundo": vivia, naquele momento, um apanhado de todas as frases que vinha colecionando desde sua adolescência. Dividido entre as duas possibilidades, e insatisfeito com títulos espraiando múltiplas linhas, deixou a imagem e o simbolismo da primavera batizarem o texto.
- - -
O menino, que acreditava ter compreendido o segredo da vida vendo as pedras que choravam sozinhas no mesmo lugar, mas agora comprendia, em toda sua força, a distinção entre conhecer o caminho, e percorrê-lo, havia dormido pouco. Inquietava-se com preocupações tolas, tolas pois sabia que não seriam seus pensamentos irriquietos que as resolveriam. Esforçava-se em não focar sua concentração nestas angústias, e, tal aquele que, na esperança de dormir, mantém-se desperto pela consciência de ainda estar acordado, fracassava em suas tentativas justamente pelo empenho de seus esforços.

Sua terapia, e a única que surtia efeito naquelas circumstâncias, consistia em pedalar - e encontrava na presente situação a melhor justificativa para dedicar-se com afinco aos treinos. Naquele primeiro dia após o equinócio, marcando o início da estação, pedalava rumo ao norte, contra o vento, e apesar da resistência deste, sentia-se leve, e quase como se propelido, talvez pelo sol a bater em suas costas, ou pelos cheiros que emanavam dos campos ainda frescos com a chuva do dia anterior. Alegrava-se pelo trajeto a ser cumprido - havia escolhido escalar até o alto da montanha do castelo da Pedra de Fogo, subida que não era particularmente longa, ou íngreme, mas tinha em seu trajeto elementos - as viradas, os trechos cruzando um pequeno vilarejo, ou atravessando um bosque, a vista do alto - que lembravam-no de outras subidas, popularizadas pela mística francesa dos vinte e três dias em julho, deslumbre ao qual ele havia vivenciado, quase sete anos atrás. Dançando sobre os pedais, era remetido de volta àquele período, onde, escalando tais montanhas, desconhecia limites para suas ambições sobre duas rodas. Trazido de volta pelo ácido lático a queimar em suas pernas, suando e com a respiração ofegante, mas de alma límpida, decidia investir em uma nova empreitada atrás daqueles sonhos de outrém.
- - -
Quase uma semana depois, às vésperas do mês de abril, deixava o campus rumando ao estacionamento, e encontrava-se eufórico, e perplexo, pois não sabia o porquê de sua euforia.

Os treinos daquela semana, e sua apresentação na primeira corrida da temporada, haviam sido bons, mas os números nada tinham de espetacular, e sua colocação, especialmente dada a magnitude de seus objetivos esportivos, não havia impressionado como esperava.

Igualmente, a reunião com seu orientador havia sido produtiva, mas já tivera melhores e mais inspirantes; sua a tentativa de obter apoio para participar de uma conferência em além-mar havia sido recebida com entusiasmo apenas moderado, e mantinha aquele ar parcialmente cínico para com a importância de seus resultados, que ainda não sabia como encaixar no contexto daqueles planos e ideais que, anos atrás, o haviam impelido a seguir pelo caminho do doutoramento. Assim mesmo, apesar da certificar-se que dali emanavam sensações positiva, sabia que a origem daquele estado de espírito não se encontrava no trabalho.

Muito possivelmente, acreditava, também não estava esta origem no relacionamento, se não conturbado, pelo menos delicado e altamente peculiar, que iniciava. A situação e as implicações da mesma ele ainda não compreendia por inteiro, e apesar de alguns sinais promissores, não tinha nenhum posicionamento concreto, e talvez isto fosse a única certeza que tirava de uma extensa reflexão sobre o assunto - a ausência de absolutos, quase como exigência para a plenitude da liberdade de amar, ou em um nível mais fundamental, se algo pode ser mais fundamental que o amor, todo o ser e estar.

Caminhava ainda em direção ao estacionamento, e contemplava novamente o lindo dia de primavera - lembrando-se que havia treinado do lado de dentro, e assim deixado de aprimorar seu bronzeado, supunha não ser este o motivo de sua alegria desenfreada. Dirigia-se para casa, fazendo planos para, após as compras, ter um encontro romântico com a revisão de um artigo que intendia submeter nos próximos dias - e assim, nesta completa ausência de qualquer indicativo que isto justificasse, sentia-se como o dono do mundo, ou algo bastante próximo disso, e a sensação lhe era simplesmente fantástica. Saia do campus onde trabalhava, brevemente registrando seus pensamentos e sensações em uma nota rápida, e percebia estar feliz, e não entendia o porquê, mas deseja ardentemente compreender.

Lembrara então que, para aqueles que não houviam a música, os que dançavam pareciam loucos. Sorriu, e dançou ao som da melodia que, inaudivelmente, compunha a trilha sonora do seu caminhar.
- - -
Chegou ao trabalho numa manhã de sexta-feira, onde temperaturas mais amenas, contrastadas com a tarde de verão experienciada no dia anterior, o lembraram que a primavera estava apenas por começar. Adentrou seu escritório, cumprimentou seus colegas, preparou um café (insistia ser o melhor cappuccino ao norte do Danúbio). Degustando-o, o já morno leite adocicado contrastando com o amargo do café, contemplou a estação, e todas as metáforas que eram representadas pelo seu início. Naquele momento, tinha consciência de que este epílogo não simbolizava o fim. As engrenagens ainda estavam a girar, águas ainda iriam correr, e o vento, lá fora, muito ainda viria a soprar. Mas, paradoxalmente, lembrando-se de que a jornada era seu destino, concluiu com felicidade que estava continuamente a chegar.

Of posts and plots

noreply@blogger.com (Whiskas) — Sun, 20 Mar 2011 17:40:00 +0000

To a good measure, my writings in this blog do not differ, in content, to what I often discuss with friends over at the bar, or during a training ride, or having a mate in the park. Here, as there, I express my own opinions, on facts and people, and take full responsibility for what I write or say. However, in the other environments, I know - usually personally - my audience, and, if needed, can immediately discuss the implications of a strongly-worded argument, or even make a request for a subject not to be commented further. Clearly, that is not the case in an open-access blog such as The Thin Grad Line.

This very issue had already been pondered upon over one of the first posts here. At the time, I opted for a different approach to the different topics I wrote about, and thus a decision was made to keep the blog open. It meant avoiding some subjects, or writing only indirectly about others - but I figured those who knew me, or were sufficiently informed about the particular events at hand, could establish the necessary connections and enjoy the bigger picture. With time, however, I learned that others, reading this blog, had formed quite a different image of me than what I believe was, or is, the one I strive to project for myself. Maybe that was in part due to the writing style, maybe due to the subjects about which I wrote, specially as, more recently, I became increasingly willing to be open about my thoughts and feelings. The reason of such (in my view) misinterpretation doesn't matter. I wrote before, and I'll repeat the Pullman quote here: nobody has the right not to be offended. This includes, for instance, when reading this blog.

Now, if you disagree - great. Leave a comment, write me an email or, better yet, join me on a cup of coffee for us to discuss the subject further. Or simply let it be - live and let live...
- - -
Regarding La Trama: what for me may represent "going for broke" may as well be someone else's typical day at the office, nothing more than the regular bread-and-butter. Or vice-versa. It's also clear that not everything must be done balls-to-the-wall - balance, as always, is key. In a sense, what I wanted to convey was the idea of aiming high above for the overall combination - of sports, career, relationships, experiences in general. And it's no secret that one must accept giving up on one side to be able to accomplish more in another - at least in most cases.

But sometimes, one just needs to go for the non plus ultra. I promise to keep you posted...

La Trama

noreply@blogger.com (Whiskas) — Sat, 19 Mar 2011 23:03:00 +0000

Uruguayan singer Jorge Drexler's latest album is named "Amar la Trama" (Love the Plot), a name he justified on his passion for the plot, "the space between the beginning and end, to be completed, in which things happen".

Drexler sings, "to love the plot more than the outcome" (Amar la trama más que al desenlace). For a long time I insist that the journey is the destination. It doesn't mean goals are unimportant, but I believe getting there should bring at least as much satisfaction as the final objective - otherwise something is clearly amiss. Maybe a good explanation can be found in MacIntyre's inner goods theory - which was the subject of a previous post. But how exactly can one assert that a particular choice will lead to (better, longer?) satisfaction as one walks down the chosen path? Can such be quantified? And does departing from the path, giving up on the objective, invalidates the whole process undertaken until then?
- - -
On a random discussion over in a cycling forum, someone posted "If a person never quits when the going got tough, they wouldn't have anything to regret for the rest of their life". Curiously, reading an editorial on (former) minister von Guttenberg's resignation this morning, I came across "Reue ist Verstand, der zu spät kommt" - regret is the understanding that came too late.

I was recently asked what I was truly afraid of. I'm scared of a number of things, but I was always afraid of feeling regret for a decision. Thus, for a long time, I managed to avoid situations that could lead to possible regrets - and that is precisely the only thing I have to regret when looking back.

As I went over a list of objectives for the times ahead, I found a plethora of possibilities that would be fun, exciting, and still allow for a balanced, unregretful life - many of those still very much fitting the overall Whiskas' Lifestyle theme. And then I had a glimpse of myself in a Radiohead Fitter, Happier song. No way. I'm going for broke. Maybe I'll bemoan trying, but I will not resent fearing regret. At any rate, "durch der Reue niedres Tor, wandern wir zum Glücke" (Through regret's lowered gate, we walk towards hapiness). Thanks, Herder.
- - -
Coming back from Brazil, after a short, but intense week-long visit, I realized the obvious, but absolutely non-trivial answer to the identity question posed in the previous post.

In an uniquely Whiskas way, I am both.

And together we're invincible .

Another instance of Whiskas' travel-motivated commentary

noreply@blogger.com (Whiskas) — Wed, 09 Mar 2011 17:46:00 +0000

Echoing Monica's comment of a few weeks ago, Brazil impresses by its accelerated economic growth. Internationally-traded stocks are on all-time highs, exports blossom, and foreign companies invest heavily. Nevertheless, the magazine I picked for reading on-board still had as its cover story racism issues and the social disparities between races. Browsing through the articles, this contrast is strikingly visible: whereas one discusses the Central Bank's decision on interest rates and another reports of BMW's plans to expand its dealerships and even contemplates setting up a manufacturing plant, reports on the low levels of investment on primary education or a story about the lack of an effective witness protection program to safeguard the lives of those who attempt to raise voice against the ever-present corruption in the higher spheres of the Brazilian society show that the South American giant still has a long way to go before it can have the label of 'developed country' stamped upon itself.

I dwell further. Brazilian science advances with the growing economy as local industries realize the potential of applied research in the vast - and capable - University environment. But at the same time, laboratories still struggle under the bureaucratic machine to maintain their expensive lab equipments running: a million-dollar atomic force microscope (AFM) employs probe tips costing, in Europe, but a few dozen dollars each. Boarding to Brazil, a fellow physicist asked me whether I could help out their lab by bringing some AFM tips, as they are hard to find - and then, usually prohibitively expensive - in the local market. I don't want to go Machiavellic here - that is to say, employ the "the ends justify the means" adage -, merely illustrate another point where the land still must come to terms with its own progress.

And then there is the Critical Mass incident. Critical Masses (CMs) are anarchic manifestations, mostly by bikers, attempting to call attention to the fact that today's urban (traffic) planning leaves alternative forms of transportation mostly sidelined, what in greater part can be blamed on the automobile-centred mentality which permeates the views of (almost) everyone living in an urban environment. The first CMs took place in North America, before spreading now to be found in virtually every continent, and in particular in cities and countries where a sufficiently large community of alternative, liberal minded cyclists attempt to fight, outnumbered, the status quo. As a cyclist, I took part in some of the first CMs in Porto Alegre, then dubbed "Bicicletadas". After a few rounds, I ceased to participate, as I had the impression such events would foster more annoyance among drivers rather then actually spreading a positive image about the idea. But I digress.
Two weeks ago, during the monthly edition of Porto Alegre's CM, as the manifestation cycled through a tight downtown street, a driver lost his temper and ran over over a dozen cyclists, knocking them out of the way or over his windshield, fleeing immediately afterwards. Behind, the almost one hundred participants were left in uttermost shock - amateur videos of the attack remind of a Carmaggedon game scene, and it was by sheer luck that no one was killed, no, wait, murdered. (Shameless plug: always wear a helmet!). After overcoming the shock from the news, and finding out that my friends who took part were mostly unscathed, I was, needless to say, relieved to be cycling in a way friendlier environment...
- - -
I flew Business for my 26th crossing of the Atlantic. I'm terribly spoiled by having insiders in Brazil's largest airline - which usually translates into getting cheaper deals for a ticket or an upgrade for the 12-hour haul over the Big Water Pond. I figure I wouldn't have enjoyed most of these crossings so much, were it not for the added comfort of the extra leg room, fully reclining seat - and the wine menu, of course :) . Thanks again, Roni!
- - -
Put together all the points above, the bending of rules, or their re-interpretation, and one should be able to draw a pretty good picture of the famous "Brazilian way" - the jeitinho brasileiro, which could be translated as the institutionalization of helping one's own (including oneself) out. This unique approach leads to innovation, flexibility and tolerance, but seems also to be, at the very same time, the most infamous character trait of the Brazilian society - precisely when it is translated to impunity, or lack of observance to valid standards, regulations or safety measures.
- - -
Among the ponderings of the past few months, I've spent time trying to figure my identity more precisely. I was born and grew up in Brazil, but I don't fully grasp the culture or the people in its entirely. Most of the country is unbeknownst to me, being familiar only with the European-influenced southern states - and, in fact, I had never cooked the traditional beans dish until last week :) . At the same time, I am German, I live in Germany, and have grown up in a half-German family with many influences from my Old Continent relatives - and yet, in many senses I am still a foreigner.

During my time in Canada, I would often identify myself as Brazilian, but spent more time with German-speaking friends. Coming back to my home town this week, I again faced myself with the identity question. Fortunately, I came to realize that such lack of a properly defined answer must not be taken negatively: never mind that most of my closest friends have some sort of migration or living-abroad background; I am among my own in different countries, continents and cultures. Home, finally, is always where the heart is.

Roller coasters, road trips and power meters

noreply@blogger.com (Whiskas) — Sat, 26 Feb 2011 17:14:00 +0000

It's been one incredible journey, both literally and figuratively.

I have gone, or maybe am still going, through some very intense ups-and-downs during these early months of 2011 - many of which have somehow made it to the blog or twitter/facebook updates over the last few weeks. Many former assumptions have been reworked from scratch; established ideas have been thoroughly questioned, some new future plans have been laid out, and, altogether, a lot has been learned about myself - and those around me. Facing my own weaknesses and confronting myself with the possibility of failure makes for an outright scary ride. But still a most rewarding one: "Life is made up of experiences, and the more experiences you have, the more you live" (Gordon Shrum).

The journey is not only abstract, thought. Movement is an integral part of my being whole, and road trips are a quintessential definition of that. In January, I drove halfway across the country to visit my cousins in Herten with my sister in tow (450km), then picked Carol up in Frankfurt (250km) and drove her to Ulm (300km), and from there went on to visit Jason, a former colleague from the Institute (150km). We took a hike through the hills of Upper Bavaria, before I drove back home (250km) - with a tad over 1400km in the extended Dreikönigs weekend. And last week, another trip was in store, picking Carol in Ulm and driving to Grenoble (1800km round-trip) where we met Kazik and Marnes for a weekend in the French Alps - including riding up a certain famous Tour climb enjoying the pleasant springtime weather and the company of friends to cheer me up during the effort.

Finally, and in spite of the whole turmoil, or maybe precisely drawing motivation from it, my early season training sessions have been quite encouraging . The addition of an integrated power meter gave a whole new dimension to quantifying, analysing, and planning workouts - and plain simply reminding me to ride harder. The resulting endorphins afterwards are just an added bonus...
- - -
Good things come for those that make them happen. Sometimes, though, one must wait for that - and patience is, indeed, a most virtuous trait in those times. As the saying goes, it all boils down to "manter a mente quieta, a espinha ereta, e o coração tranqüilo" - keeping the mind quiet, the spine erect, and the heart in peace.

Cheers,

Twenty-Ten

noreply@blogger.com (Whiskas) — Fri, 31 Dec 2010 09:12:00 +0000

Five years ago, I wrote a review on 2006, saying that freelance photography, new friendships, the beginning of the new Elipse/LAST cycling team, and my Physics graduation, all made it a rather special year. One year later, I posted on this very blog about 2007, saying it went further, with my Graduate studies filled with euphoria, cycling victories, trips abroad, language courses, and what not. Then along came 2008, setting an even higher standard, with international conferences, my Master's defense, an epic transcontinental bike ride, and the beginning of my Ph.D. in Germany. One more, and 2009 included visits to Portugal, Brazil, Uruguay, England, and trips all over Germany to Hamburg, Hannover, Düsseldorf, Ulm, Berlin, in adition to conferences and workshops, a great road racing season and fantastic rock concerts.

Now it's time for 2010. This year, I
... moved out to my own apartment
... published my first paper
... bought my first car
... organized a surprise overseas birthday party
... won my first cycling race in Europe
... travelled to Australia
... moved to Waterloo, Canada
... experimented with new food, beverages and sports
... fell in love
... and ran a marathon.

A gallery with one hundred pictures telling the visual story of the year gone by can be found on my Picasa gallery. Do check it out!
- - -
The old adage goes, "once is an occurence, twice may be a coincidence, but thrice is surely a tendency". What's left to say when five years in a row have surpassed each other in setting new marks for incredible achievements? Easy:

2011 will be A W E S O M E.

Yay!

The lighter side

noreply@blogger.com (Whiskas) — Mon, 27 Dec 2010 22:08:00 +0000

With just under two weeks back in terra germanica, and given the conjecture of being away for an extended amount of time, returning just before the Holidays, with friends and family coming to visit, I could easily say I haven't yet had the time to settle back in - were it not for the fact that what I define as my usual life is a constant state of exceptional circumstances (or an Ausnahmezustand, as I have noted in a previous post). But those events will be reviewed in a forthcoming post. For the present moment, I just want to collect a few random disconnected thoughts :)

- Shopping in Germany is simply amazing. While I have probably already said that when I first moved over, it's stressed over and over again when coming back after an extended period of time away. I just came back from the supermarket, where, besides groceries for three, I also bought a few spoils to my mother and sister, and it all came to just a tad more than what my basic bread-and-butter shopping would have costed me in Canada. Vintage French wine? Check. Fancy Swiss, German or Belgian chocolates? Check. Exquisite Italian, Danish or French cheese? Check. And all the Nivea creams and lotions my skin could ever want - Yay!

- I've been listening to some new, or at least unbeknownst to me, singers and bands, and as always, it's a great pleasure to find out there's such fantastic stuff out there. Still, I was somehow saddened to find out that one artist whom I just came to enjoy is actually deceased, or that another band has since dissolved, and I'll never have the opportunity to attend a real live concert from them. Nevertheless, and somehow making up for that, my perennial favourites Belle & Sebastian are playing in Germany in April - Yay!

- Snow, oh, the snow! I never had so many snowball fights; and I had never actually managed to build a large-scale snowman - and the last few days more than made up for that. And driving and skidding through the snow has been such fun! Scary sometimes, sure, but I'm thankful the Whiskaswagen has top-notch ESP and ABS brakes - Yay!

- I take some pride on how tidy I keep my little apartment, how good my clothes smell after washing, or how I managed to develop some cooking skills with some not only good looking, but also quite tasty dishes. But with one week of mom taking care of cleaning, washing and cooking, I notice I still have a lot to learn. Oh well. For the moment, I can only enjoy being spoiled - Yay!

Sunset at Toronto Pearson Airport

noreply@blogger.com (Whiskas) — Wed, 15 Dec 2010 20:42:00 +0000

Exactly four months ago, as Moni and Benja dropped me at Nürnberg's airport, I was handed one little postcard, with a huge smiley on one side, and the following written on its reverse:

"Und jedem Anfang wohnt ein Zauber inne,
Der uns beschützt und der uns hilft, zu leben.
(Herrmann Hesse, 'Stufen')

And so you're off, to climb one more step in a life full of them, a life filled with challenges, achievements, defeats and victories. To follow a path full of rocks, stones, pebbles and boulders, but never any deadlocks.
It wasn't the easiest path, this one you've chosen, but certainly it was the most yours, and the richest of all. Where each experience transforms you and in turns makes your live more and more interesting.
May the magic of the beginning protect you and help you live. Have a great time in Canada and come back some day: we'll be waiting for you!
- Moni"

I'm about to cross the Atlantic for the 23rd time. It's been hard before; severing bounds as I moved from one continent to the other was, and is, never an easily-dismissed circumstance. And yet, the fantastic times I've had in Canada over the last four months, and the fabulous happenings of the past few weeks mean this one is particularly harder. Harder as in falling in unconditional love, and then realizing that one can only fight so much; that part of clinging to someone means letting them go.
Awaiting my departure in Toronto, I believe I've played all my cards. I believe I fought the fight to the best of what my whole life to the present day taught me to. I leave my heart behind, but I fly back with no regrets.

Agnes, ich liebe dich.

Stufen, Steps & Degraus

noreply@blogger.com (Whiskas) — Thu, 09 Dec 2010 14:49:00 +0000

Stufen (Herman Hesse, 1941)

Wie jede Blüte welkt und jede Jugend
Dem Alter weicht, blüht jede Lebensstufe,
Blüht jede Weisheit auch und jede Tugend
Zu ihrer Zeit und darf nicht ewig dauern.
Es muß das Herz bei jedem Lebensrufe
Bereit zum Abschied sein und Neubeginne,
Um sich in Tapferkeit und ohne Trauern
In andre, neue Bindungen zu geben.
Und jedem Anfang wohnt ein Zauber inne,
Der uns beschützt und der uns hilft, zu leben.

Wir sollen heiter Raum um Raum durchschreiten,
An keinem wie an einer Heimat hängen,
Der Weltgeist will nicht fesseln uns und engen,
Er will uns Stuf' um Stufe heben, weiten.
Kaum sind wir heimisch einem Lebenskreise
Und traulich eingewohnt, so droht Erschlaffen,
Nur wer bereit zu Aufbruch ist und Reise,
Mag lähmender Gewöhnung sich entraffen.

Es wird vielleicht auch noch die Todesstunde
Uns neuen Räumen jung entgegen senden,
Des Lebens Ruf an uns wird niemals enden...
Wohlan denn, Herz, nimm Abschied und gesunde!

- - -

There are translations out there for those less familiar with this fantastic work in its original version; I note but one part:

For in each beginning dwells a special magic
That nurtures living and bestows protection

- - -

Aponto aqui uma tradução para aqueles menos habituados ao poema de Hesse ou ao idioma de Goethe. Deixo aqui somente uma parte:

Em todo começo reside um encanto
Que nos protege e nos ajuda a viver

Of ships and harbours

noreply@blogger.com (Whiskas) — Mon, 29 Nov 2010 20:59:00 +0000

In spite of the strong opinions and the somewhat gloomy aspect of some of the last few entries, I usually somehow avoid expressing more intimate feelings, with truly fatalistic posts being rather the exception here - only a few have popped up over the last few years, the cryptic Deja Vi in late 2007, I guess, or the train post from 2008. Curiously, while the situation now may be such that the expression of my feelings is called for, it should not be in an overly dark context, however I may be saddened by the way the matter has taken its course.

"A ship is in harbour safe, but that's not what ships are built for", a citation my sister Monica has been quoting ever since she moved back to Germany some 7 or 8 years ago. I posted this exact same thought here just as I was boarding, back in 2008; arriving in Waterloo, a few months back, I got a postcard from her reminding me, once again, of this saying. Ever since I recognized myself to be who I am, I've been making it a point of taking myself out of the comfort zone - after all, that's not what I'm here for. And now, having fallen in love as I hadn't in a very long time, I found myself noting just how such could be taken to be the ultimate test for the quote, as I considered dropping everything from my sport, my countries or my Ph.D. to be with the one person who, to date, best described what people call a soulmate.

And yet it was not to be, not now. Maybe because the other person had already found her safe harbour, maybe for other reasons which shall be entirely mysterious to me, but it shouldn't matter. It saddened me, deeply, and I walked away with a bitter taste. And yet, I was reminded just how the simple occurrence of such feelings was, is a fantastic thing by itself. To have those feelings, of being truly alive, of liking someone so much, no matter the implications or complications, gave a whole new meaning to the idea of taking my ship far out of the harbour, of venturing into wholly uncharted waters - and I shall hold dearly to the new ideas and values I've considered over these past few weeks as a measure, a standard for my future sailings.
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The original title was "Of ships and harbours, isomorphisms and fancy new carbon wheels", but I figure the Choi-Jamiolkowski isomorphism or the Krauss operator-sum representation of Gaussian maps shouldn't, however they helped me get through the latter days by providing something distant and abstract to think about, warrant any thoughts here. Questions of science, science and progress, do not speak as loud as my heart. Now, about those carbon wheels... Well. I take part in the hardest sport in the world. Damn, running a marathon is something I would do as part of my off-season. And cycling has shaped so much of who I am, that I feel justified in rewarding myself with some non-plus-ultra tools of the trade, specially when I need a little cheering-up. So, like I did after previous heart breakings, I went out on a small shopping spree for new carbon wheels and time-trial handlebars for the upcoming season. The difference between men and boys is the price of their toys...
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I may not buy a boat just yet, but I'm eager for my skipper's license. To the sea!

Dear Humans: you're doing it wrong, part I

noreply@blogger.com (Whiskas) — Mon, 15 Nov 2010 23:11:00 +0000

Yet another thread of not-entirely-disconnected thoughts on the current state of affairs. This post (and any eventually forthcoming in this series) should not be taken as set in stone; some points are up not only for discussion, but also for a possible rewriting. Still, to paraphrase Pullman: no one has the right to read this blog without being offended.
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An article on the Süddeutsche Zeitung a few weeks ago reported spiritual and psychological counselling to university students as being on an all-time high. Students fight with course overloads and the pressure to perform, in additional to the usual doubts and uncertainties that abound in the early phases of their supposed adulthood - sometimes on the verge of a burn-out.

My advisor in Erlangen, and a recently-promoted post-doctoral researcher in Waterloo, obtained 5-year assistant professorship contracts without a permanent-position option. A recent article on Nature denotes tenure as necessary "to protect academic freedom; faculty members can disagree with popular opinion, express negative views about their institution, or research unpopular topics". Meanwhile, both the Universities of Erlangen-Nürnberg and of Waterloo resort to underpaid graduate students to serve as teaching assistants to tutor the very undergraduates who should, arguably, be the main focus of such institutions.

This Monday's IQC colloquium presented a very interesting (re-)formulation of known questions in Quantum Information as problems in asymptotic geometry. Unfortunately, beautiful mathematical structure was perverted - prostituted, maybe? - into finding a supposed application - with the speaker even going to lengths to instigate experimentalists to try and implement a proof-of-principle demonstration.

And the online triathlon/cycling community I regularly take part in has a discussion on the migration of bike parts manufacturing and development jobs to China; one of the books I've just finished reading preaches off-shoring unfulfilling tasks to India to maximize rentable working hours, but maybe this is a discussion for part II. Never mind for now.

Our civilization has managed to automate most of its existence. It has developed fantastic theories on effective and efficient management and production; let alone the incredible advances on communications and transportation we now take for granted. Yet, one is still expected to fulfill a 40-hour working-week labouring as much as two hundred years ago. Dear humans, you're doing it wrong.
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Sure, I find it appealing that abstract ideas can find their way into possible experiments - if something positive can be won from the work done in the lab. I still envision mathematicians playing with such structures for the sake of mere curiosity - of knowledge for knowledge's sake - rather than for a need to report back supposed applications, or, worse yet, an increased number of publications.

If I have but one fear, one idea I dread for the future ahead, it is that of ending up trapped in a rat race. A friend recently characterized the scientist's profession as one requiring one to be "an efficient, well-organized artist" - to which he added that such ideal "corresponds more or less to an oxymoron". Whether I actually possess all traits necessary to emerge 'victorious' from such a pressure-instigating scenario doesn't enter into consideration. In fact, while I've come to realize I've produced less-than-optimal performances in certain processes and activities over the last few years, and currently strive towards more efficiency and efficacy for the goals I have ahead of me, I recognize that I have more than once avoided putting myself in situations where striving for a higher step led to potentially destructive behaviour. Be it for reasons of ethics, sportsmanship or health, I've opted to throttle back, even if it meant giving up on eventually achieving higher accomplishments (*). The same may just apply in to Academia. Publish-or-perish my behind. Either this is fun, or I'm quitting to start a small café.

(*) Have you seen "The Loneliness Of A Middle Distance Runner"? When he stops the race and looks around... - not just the Belle & Sebastian song , I recommend the movie as well.
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Not surprisingly, yet again the theme here involves Academics and the Future. Entering my 3rd year as a doctoral student, I only have a bare idea of where I could go from here - that is, if I am to follow Physics as a career of sorts. Balance seems to be an important keyword. My work as a researcher must somehow be compatible with my current and future sportive endeavours, long-term travel plans, and the eventual prospect of developing a relationship with a significant other. And I don't seem willing to give up on any.
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I'm surprised I never posted xkcd #137 here. It's a fantastic epitome for much of what I'm very often thinking:
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Maybe I'm starting a café anyway.

The Updated Whiskas Facts

noreply@blogger.com (Whiskas) — Tue, 09 Nov 2010 02:39:00 +0000

Back in the end of 2007, inspired by a similar posting from my friend Rocca, I wrote my very own fact sheet (in Portuguese). I've since wanted to bring out an English version for the sake of my international readership, but always ended up writing about something else. So, finally, here with you, and once again in no particular order, the updated 2010 Whiskas Facts:

Whiskas..
... is known to the civilian world outside as "Ricardo Wickert"
... quantifies entanglement in quantum-optical Schrödinger cats
... has ridden a bicycle in as many as ten different countries
... has jumped from a moving car
... makes award-winning pancakes for breakfast
... prefers Cabernet, Malbec and Carmenére wines
... took part in left-wing militant organizations
... started his own dotcom at the age of 15
... is an atheist
... coordinated and executed roadside cleaning efforts in major highways
... dances the tunes of Franz F., Belle & Sebastian and Los Campesinos
... but also enjoys a concert with Wagner, Schubert, Ludwig van. & co
... has an airplane pilot's license (and two different driver's licenses, too)
... worked part-time with NGOs supporting cyclists' rights to the road
... spent summers building robots during high school
... won and lost money playing poker
... worked as a free-lance and event photographer
... plays table-tennis "quite well for a non-Asian"
... has absolutely no idea what is currently on TV
... took second place in the Brazilian Physics Olympiad during high school
... is addicted to caffeine
... has high-contrast skin colours
... is ichthyophagous, meaning a vegetarian who also enjoys seafood
... has planted trees and written poems (but has no kids)
... was born on a Tuesday, at 7:28 PM Brazilian Standard Time
... has dyed his hair orange, and is eager to do it again
... was run over by a car and robbed at gunpoint
... drank 42 bottles of sparkling wine to celebrate his Bachelor's degree
... invests in stock markets and still hopes to retire before turning 40
... speaks Portuguese, English, Spanish, German and some French
... loves to dance (which absolutely shouldn't imply he knows how to)
... believes he is what he does
... and thus jumps in frozen lakes to prove his point
... has run a marathon for love of a woman

A Musical Affirmation

noreply@blogger.com (Whiskas) — Mon, 08 Nov 2010 20:13:00 +0000

I'm a non-orthogonal, stochastic, or maybe symplectic luminary-hearted soul got some of it wrong.

I'm "The Loneliness of the Middle-Distance Runner" in a "Stars of Track and Field"-kind of way,

I'm not Ulysses. I'm never going home.

Thus, it is only fitting that I suffer from Transatlanticisms.

You throw parties? How cool, I throw knives.

I know the trick is to keep breathing.

I'm pleased to spell "Ha-ha-ha, I've destroyed the hopes and the dreams of a generation of faux-romantics". But I do appreciate the smell of coffee on your breath against my neck.

And I'll blow you all to the wall when you realize what I've been working for.

(This is definitively a non-usual Thin Grad Line post. Just so that you all may learn a bit about my current music tastes... And my apologies in advance in case some of the videos are not available to Youtube viewers located in different countries.)

The Waterloo Autumn

noreply@blogger.com (Whiskas) — Sun, 31 Oct 2010 13:18:00 +0000

(Ver abaixo para a versão original em Português)

The timespan between March and June 2009 - as of my awakening to my German Ph.D. studies, coupled with a series of trips throughout the European continent, and the establishment of countless new friendships, all interwoven by the beautiful springtime colours - was appropriately christened as "the Erlangen Springtime". Following the same line of thought, it'd be fitting to entitle the present period as "the Waterloo Autumn".

I flew in here in quite distressed circumstances - as a matter of fact, maybe the whole year until then could share this adjective. And in spite of having held meetings and video-conference calls, the research proposal I handed in was worded in such a wide context as possible to fit, basically, whatever direction my work here could take. Peter, my advisor in Erlangen, was busy writing his book, and as such I was quite on my own to choose my own heading. On the other hand, Norbert, my co-advisor here, seemed to be expecting I would arrive here with a well-defined question - both with regards to the objectives as to the methods and techniques I would employ. That this led to a stand-still in my first weeks here shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone...

Perhaps due to this stagnancy, or maybe because of other circumstances related to my moving to a new terra incognita with a different culture and lacking the social cobweb I had been weaving over the past seasons in Germanic grounds - and thus with lots of free time to spend thinking - I caught myself frequently contemplating my future role in an eventual academic career. An immediate issue concerns my capacity for such: time and again I have the feeling my analytical abilities are shallow, that my results lack a more elaborate mathematical formalism, and that, about to begin my third year, I'm still not proficient in any sufficiently advanced technique, being constrained to minor comments on the handful of subjects I've gone beyond the first few introductory steps. It is true, however - as Monica has already pointed out in a comment to a previous post - that I tend to suggest averages should be such as to fit myself somewhere around the centre of the bell curve - and I'm also sure I'm the most modest person whose blog you've ever read, by the way :) . Nevertheless. If, recognizing all those factors, I do attempt to delve into a particular technique or method, I will quickly find myself in an overly critical - cynical, almost - analysis, concluding invariably that such is not an appropriate tool for whatever problem I intend to tackle. Further extending such a perspective to the entire field - or, why not, to all of Physics - one can still reach the same conclusions, except perhaps to a zero-measure set containing as its elements those few truly original results which went beyond the borders of one's own plate (from the German expression "über den Tellerrand" - maybe you'd rather just use "think outside the box") . Oh well. I believe any reasonable physicist will conclude that such is indeed the case at hand (so far unconditionally confirmed in numerous conversations with other students (*) during the coffee-breaks at IQC (**) ); and that a large base of merely differentially-incrementing results is needed before one may, in a rare act of geniality, put the ideas together and bring an entire field forward. But how to maintain motivation, when the perspective of being one capable of providing such magnificent insights is dim at best?

Another issue arises from a more pragmatic view of the career dilemma. Marco, one of the group's post-docs, was recently "upgraded" to an assistant professorship, and even though his contract is "long term" (supposedly 5 years, if I remember correctly), it's not a tenure track. The same applies to my advisor back in Erlangen, Peter, who, in spite of leading an Emmy-Noether group in a prestigious Max-Planck Institute (and having authored books and numerous highly-cited articles), still doesn't have a permanent position. Now, at some point (preferably before one's retirement), one could expect a somewhat stable geographical location to become necessary for the development of a relationship and/or a family. My capacity to evaluate the matter at hand may be limited, but if a physicist with some 30-50 published journal articles cannot find a permanent position in an attractive institution when approaching the 35-40 year age bracket, what can one conclude about the possibilities of conciliating an academic career with what most mere mortals would call "a normal life"? (***)

(*) Other interesting discussions have addressed the focus of academic research at the border between science and engineering - and our, or maybe my, incapacity to identify a given phenomenon as scientifically relevant due to its limited practical applicability. Nevertheless, the question remains: is a theory unable of proposing an experiment capable of testing or validating itself at all useful? Equally, is it of any worth an experiment designed with the sole purpose of verifying the established theory? Now, don't get me wrong here: many a theory had to be replaced after failing to provide sufficient answers to a scrutinizing test - take the recent discrepancies found in the predicted size of the proton as an example - and those are precisely the kind we need more. But - sorry, Jonathan - once you've proved you can generate an N-partite entangled photonic state, and the technique has been shown to extend to N+1 states as well, then further increasing N may be an amazing engineering achievement, but it's no longer a scientific feat. Nature editors, give us a break.

(**) The coffee, I should add, is/continues to be unbearable, and perhaps prevents more stimulating discussions from taking place due to its watery, americano, I'd-rather-drink-English-tea characteristics. I miss my home espresso machine.

(***) By no means do I wish by this to imply I'm necessarily after such a normal life; but a certain amount of tranquillity/stability may still be welcome - if not for purely personal reasons, then at least to enable the researcher to develop his work without the constant pressure to obtain immediate results in order to guarantee his next contract...
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This may all sound quite dim and obscure, but I better ratify: not only philosophical wanderings of predominantly negative nature occupy my time in Canada. The warm late-August summer still allowed me to enjoy beautiful evenings outside, and even some days when I remember to have cursed the heat. September brought me to my "definitive" address, in a cozy, if still under renovation, house shared with Kate and Lilly - and a coffee grinder and a collection of Bialettis - from which one may infer the criteria I used to decide on my new home...

Settled in, I interwove idle weekends - mostly at home, reading or lazily surfing the web - with more active ones, with different activities and trips in the nearby areas. My first excursion took me to Detroit, where I met my long-time triathlon friend Julia, currently a post-doc at Wayne State U. A fortnight later, together with IQC's Nathan and his girlfriend Emma, I headed to Algonquin Provincial Park for a weekend of canoe camping, camp-fires and marshmallows. Two weeks later, I attended Los Campesinos! (Friday) and Belle & Sebastian (Tuesday) concerts in Toronto (and danced 'til I had blisters on my feet!), with the weekend in between spent with NDI's Omar in Etobicoke, and Thanksgiving Monday with Emma's parents in North Toronto/Markham. Finally, for the last two weekends, I joined some fellow IQC colleagues in climbing afternoons in Guelph, in a novel discovery (for a cyclist) that upper-body muscles are also capable of moving the body against gravity :) . And there's still the usual brunches, dinners or pub nights with the other students, training with the UWaterloo table-tennis club, jogging and running through the neighbourhood's parks, and reading aplenty: I'm on the final chapters of "Anna Karenina" (my second Tolstoy of the year), besides "The 4-hour workweek" - a practical guide to the Whiskas Lifestyle, even if perhaps rather oriented to 9-to-5 office lemmings, "Angst vor Deutschland" - discussing Germany's new role after reunification, and "Training and Racing with a Power Meter", aiming to better shape my workouts in the upcoming season...
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Meanwhile, two-and-a-half months have gone by. Temperatures now reach below freezing at night, but sunny days still make up for reasonably pleasant temperatures during the day - nevertheless, the heating has already been turned on - very much to my liking: colder days, under appropriate conditions, are always welcome. I'd even dare saying it'd be the ideal season, were it not for the local monopoly imposing overinflated prices to the delicious wines that keep me company...

O Outono de Waterloo

noreply@blogger.com (Whiskas) — Sun, 24 Oct 2010 01:52:00 +0000

(An English version may follow in the coming days...)

Ao período compreendido entre março e junho de 2009 - quando do meu despertar para o início do meu doutorado na Alemanha, com uma série de viagens pelo continente europeu e a formação de inúmeras novas amizades, e a tudo isto ainda intercalada a beleza do florescer da estação - dei o apropriado título de "a Primavera de Erlangen". Seguindo o mesmo raciocínio, institulo minha atual fase como "o Outono de Waterloo".

Embarquei para cá em circunstâncias um tanto atribuladas - aliás, o ano como um todo, até então, talvez possa gozar deste adjetivo. Apesar de termos realizado algumas reuniões e video-conferências, o projeto de pesquisa que submeti foi escrito de forma ampla o suficiente para comportar, basicamente, qualquer rumo que o trabalho aqui viesse a tomar. Peter, meu orientador em Erlangen, estava às voltas com os últimos capítulos de um livro, e sob este pretexto me deixou bastante à vontade para definir meu próprio rumo. Norbert (que me co-orienta por aqui), por sua vez, esperava que eu chegaria aqui já com uma linha bem definida do que fazer - tanto em termos de objetivos, como de metodologia. Que isto levou a um certo impasse nas primeiras semanas por aqui não deve ser, portanto, um fato surpreendente.

Talvez devido a este impasse, ou talvez por circunstâncias associadas à mudança de localidade, para uma terra incognita de costumes diferentes e sem a teia social que eu vinha tecendo nos pagos germânicos (ou ainda, talvez pelo fato de ter sido alocado para ~~um depósito~~ uma sala janelas no interior do prédio temporário onde o instituto está sediado), me peguei refletindo mais e mais frequentemente sobre meu futuro papel em uma eventual carreira acadêmica. Um ponto imediatamente relevante tange minha capacidade para o mesmo: mais uma vez tenho a impressão que minhas habilidades analíticas são pífeas, que meus resultados - já desde o Mestrado - carecem de um formalismo matematico mais elaborado, e que, adentrando o meu terceiro ano no doutorado, ainda não domino nenhuma técnica mais avançada, resumindo-me a comentários pós-introdutórios sobre uma variedade de assuntos. Ok, como já lembrou a Monica, eu gosto de sugerir que a media seja de tal forma que eu seja normal, ou talvez até acima disto: eu prefiro me imaginar abaixo da média (e salvaguardar a humanidade? Discutam.). Mas, mais além, se vislumbro aprofundar-me em uma técnica ou método em particular, me pego analisando-o de forma crítica, quase cínica, e estabeleço invariavelmente que tal não é uma forma razoável de atacar este ou aquele problema. Extendendo esta visão para além do meu escopo imediato, concluo que o mesmo pode ser dito de, virtualmente, toda a produção do nosso campo (e, por que não, de toda a Física), exceto talvez por um conjunto de medida zero, que tem por elementos aqueles poucos resultados verdadeiramente originais, vindos de uma mente que enxergou "além da borda do prato" (do alemão, "über den Tellerrand") ou "pensamentos fora da caixa" (do inglês, "to think outside the box"). Enfim. Creio que qualquer Físico há de concluir que este de fato é o caso (isto parece ser reforçado incondicionalmente durante minhas conversas (*) com outros doutorandos durante os cafés do Instituto (**) ); e que é necessário estabelecer uma grande base de resultados com incrementos apenas diferenciais para que um ou outro possa então, num ato de brilhantismo, combiná-los e levar um campo inteiro adiante. Mas como manter a motivação, quando a perspectiva de ser um capaz de fornecer uma destas contribuições magníficas é um tanto diminuta?

Mesmo numa abordagem pragmática ("vou baixar a cabeça, calcular e publicar"), a visão não se altera muito. Marco, um dos pós-doutores do grupo aqui, acaba de ser "promovido" a professor assistente, e apesar do contrato ser "de longa duração" - trata-se de uma vaga de 5 anos - ela não é tenure track (ie, não leva à uma posição permanente). Meu orientador em Erlangen, Peter, apesar de coordenar um grupo de pesquisa em um prestigioso Instituto Max-Planck, e ter livros e inúmeros artigos bem-citados, igualmente tem um contrato por alguns anos, tampouco - não é uma vaga permanente. Em algum ponto (e preferencialmente antes da aposentadoria) imagino que uma localização geográfica estável torne-se necessária para desenvolver um relacionamento e/ou uma família. Minha capacidade de julgamento sobre o assunto pode ser limitada, mas se um físico jovem, com algo entre 30 e 50 artigos publicados, não encontra uma posição permanente em uma instituição atraente quando se aproxima da faixa dos 35-40 anos, o que se deve concluir a respeito das possibilidades de conciliar uma carreira acadêmica com o que meros mortais denominariam "uma vida normal" (***)?

(*) Outras discussões interessantes orbitaram em torno do foco das pesquisas acadêmicas na fronteira entre ciência e engenharia - e da nossa, ou talvez minha, incapacidade de distinguir um fenômeno como cientificamente relevante por sua diminuta aplicabilidade prática. Todavia, deixo a pergunta: é útil a teoria incapaz de propôr um experimento capaz de testá-la ou validá-la? Igualmente, avança em algo nosso conhecimento um experimento desenhado apenas para comprovar a presente teoria, já aceita como válida - ou, em outras palavras, seriam os únicos experimentos dignos de menção aqueles que vão contra a teoria vigente, e refutando-a, nos forçam a rever nossos conceitos?

(**) Café que, devo acrescentar, é/continua intragável, e deixa de estimular mais discussões pelo seu aspecto aguado, americano, melhor-tomar-chá-inglês. Quero um medeirinhos!

(***) Não quero com isso implicar que estou necessariamente atrás de uma vida normal; mas uma certa dose de tranquilidade/estabilidade pode vir a ser bem vinda - se não por critérios pessoais, no mínimo como forma de permitir ao sujeito-pesquisador desenvolver seu trabalho sem a pressão constante por resultados imediatos para obter seu próximo contrato...
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Mas antes que assim pareça, vou deixar claro: não são só as divagações filosóficas de cunho predominantemente negativo que ocupam minha estadia aqui. O verão do fim de agosto ainda permitiu que eu apreciasse belos fins-de-tarde ao ar livre, e por quê não, até alguns dias de bastante calor. Me mudei para meu endereço "definitivo" no começo de setembro, dividindo com Kate (30-something) e Lilly (uma híbrida de pastor alemão com algum modelo vira-lata) uma simpática casa (em reformas) - e um moedor de café e uma coleção de Bialettis (percebam os critérios adotados para a escolha do meu novo lar...).

Instalado, passei a intercalar alguns finais de semana ociosos - predominantemente em casa, botando a leitura em dia - com indiadas e viagens pelas redondezas. A primeira excursão deu-se à Detroit, onde Julia, do triatlo, faz um pós-doutoramento. Uma quinzena mais tarde, rumei com Nathan, colega do Instituto, e sua namorada Emma, ao parque provincial de Algonquin, onde carregamos nossas mochilas, barracas e sacos de dormir em uma canoa, e remando chegamos ao local do nosso ponto de camping. Uma fogueira e marshmallows garantiram uma autêntico clima de acampamento... Dois finais de semana depois, rumei para Toronto, para um combo de shows - Los Campesinos! numa sexta-feira, e Belle & Sebastian na terça-feira seguinte. No final de semana entre as datas, visitei Omar, colega da NDI em Etobicoke, e passei a segunda-feira, feriado de Ação de Graças, junto com a familia de Emma em North Toronto. Por fim, esta semana acompanhei alguns colegas do instituto a Guelph para uma tarde de escaladas - uma forma muito divertida de descobrir que também os músculos superiores são capazes de deslocar o corpo :) . De resto, ocupo os finais de tarde e os outros finais-de-semana com brunches, jantas ou cervejadas com colegas do Instituto, treinos com o clube de tênis-de-mesa da Universidade, corridas e caminhadas pelos parques das redondezas, e diversas leituras: estou terminando "Anna Karenina", minha segunda incursão a Tolstoy, além de "The 4-hour workweek", que posso denominar um guia prático ao Whiskas Lifestyle (o subtítulo é "how to escape 9-to-5, live anywhere and join the New Rich"), e "Training and Racing with a Power Meter", para dar aos meus treinamentos uma forma mais estruturada quando da próxima temporada...
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Neste meio tempo, já passaram-se dois dos quatro meses da minha estadia por aqui. As temperaturas já cairam para abaixo de zero em algumas noites; mas bonitos dias de sol e céu azul ainda tem garantido um clima razoavelmente ameno durante o dia - mesmo assim, a calefação da casa já está ligada - o que bastante me agrada: o frio, em condições apropriadas, é muito bem vindo - diria até que esta seria a estação ideal para colocar as leituras em dia, e tudo seria perfeito não fosse o monopólio estatal local a impor preços um tanto quanto inflados aos bons vinhos que me fazem companhia ...