The Last Piece

6/11/10

It’s the day everyone has been dreading for months now… our final Puzzles for Postcards. We’ve had a good run, from highlights such as these two puzzles, to lowlights such as these two.

Because it’s our last chance to impress with our puzzle-creating prowess, today’s PfP will be the biggest of them all, combining different aspects from all past puzzles into one big mess. Probably only about four of you will try it, and hopefully one will succeed. In order to encourage you all though, we have a myriad of prizes to be awarded for this one:

Grand prize: your last blog postcard… ever. And if that’s not enough incentive, you’ll also receive a mention in an upcoming blog post about why you’re more than just a winner at PfPs, you’re a winner at life.

First runner-up: your last blog postcard… ever. But no mention on the blog.

Everyone else who solves it by the end of this Friday: your own self-satisfaction, plus the chance to win your last blog postcard… ever. That’s right, we’ll randomly choose one of you and send you a postcard too!

Finally: Everyone who attempts to solve this PfP and leaves a comment on the last post that they are able to get to will receive a secret prize to be revealed at a later date. (Don’t get your hopes up though, as it will cost Zhou and me nothing and it may be a long time before you get it anyway. Oh, all you people who actually solve the puzzle will win this too.)

It’s been fun – hope you upcoming winners will enjoy the final prizes, and hope you past winners have enjoyed your hard-earned postcards. Good luck one last time; we now present you the final Puzzles for Postcards.
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Puzzles for Postcards

Over the course of this blog we have experimented with seven different types of puzzles, as well as one scavenger hunt that was solved by three people. We’ll begin today with a poem that will point you in the right direction, and from there you’ll be able to figure out where each of the different types of puzzles comes into play. For the final time, good luck!

If you’re still reading our blog after all this time
You should be familiar with our site
If you’ve seen everything, I’ll give you a dime
There are tons of links on the right

There are five Recent Posts and some Sweet Tweets
But those don’t matter now
A Blogroll and Archives also can’t be beat
Now keep on dropping like the Dow

Your first answer today lies in the “Looking For…” box
Down where we index our puzzles
There’s a new member that’ll knock off your socks
And hopefully keep you confuzzled

Click on the link (hint: in total, nine posts)
And get ready for the final game
The password to enter the first fine post
Is, all lowercase, my wife’s first name
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Picture of the Day: A relevant shot of the agonizing wooden block puzzle from New Zealand.

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Homeless Kevin Heads Karefully Into Hong Kong III: Kevin Goes to Lisbon

6/8/10: Lisbon, Portugal

You didn’t think I could stop with only two masterpieces in the Homeless Kevin series, did you? Like Jason Bourne, Mission Impossible and a moderately hungry customer at an all-you-can-eat buffet, I’m back for a third and final time. Let’s cut right to the story, because like Lord of the Rings III, it’s a long one.

Sneeze. Cough. Cough. “I think I’m dying,” wheezed Zhou when she woke up this morning. “I’ll get you some cheap medicine,” I replied. I made a quick run to the nearest pharmacy, knocked out Zhou with some drowsy pills and then headed out the door, excited to have the whole day to myself.

In a bit of a rough start to the day, I immediately got lost among the hilly Lisbonian streets that put even San Francisco to shame. I was definitely somewhere on my map, but it lacked the detail necessary to help me out, so I simply pushed forward into the unknown. As it turned out, my first stop ended up being some church or nice-looking building or something.

Fortunately for me, once I found this I knew that I was very close to the flea market that I was trying to get to. (Funny how whenever Zhou’s not around I do the one thing I enjoy least: shop.)

This market was known as the Thieves’ Market, but if it were up to me I would have named it the Garage Sale of Crap, because I’m pretty sure the local merchants simply put down a blanket or table and try to sell off all the junk they don’t need anymore from home. (Of course, the Thieves’ Market could be a reference to the fact that they steal the junk from other people’s homes.)

Of course I didn’t end up buying anything here, but I did manage to take a picture of me in front of some famous Portuguese tiles.

From this market, I strolled over to a series of lookouts over the city. The first one I came to was described by our hostel as the most thigh-punishing, but worth the climb for the view. I took one look at my massive thighs and knew the climb wouldn’t be a problem. Check out the payoff:

Not too shabby, but at that point I wished there was some blue sky to brighten things up. Oh well. I then headed down to TPV’s baby cousin: non-thigh-punishing view.

I’m sure by now you’ve noticed my indigenous iPod earbuds from Hong Kong have made the journey all the way to Portugal. I didn’t want to wear them two days ago in Madrid because I knew my senses needed to be on high alert for pickpockets, but here I was able to bring them out again. (The music du jour? Matt Wertz in the morning and Michael Jackson later in the afternoon.) Anyway, my travels then took me the long way to St. George’s Castle (as seen in the background of the picture from the first lookout), allowing me to pass things such as streets decorated for the upcoming holiday,

flower pot-lined staircases,

and even red doors.

Unfortunately I forgot my student card and didn’t want to pay full price to get into the castle, so that excursion will be saved for another day. Right about this time though, my stomach began growling, so I decided to make my way back to the hostel to check on Zhou. On the way though, I popped into another large church, this one with quite intimidating dark front doors.

Zhou was still fast asleep in bed, so my adventure continued into the afternoon. But first, lunch from the same place we ate at yesterday. This cafe had a tourist menu, but I chose to go with something more local and more unknown, and I was quite relieved when I was served some sort of delicious meatballs and mashed potatoes. If only Zhou were here to share my triumph of the lunch menu…

After lunch I boarded Tram 28, a cable car that one reviewer on TripAdvisor described by saying, “if you do anything in Lisbon, take this tram ride!”

The ride itself was decent, albeit very herky-jerky, but there was one problem. I thought it would do a big loop and drop me back off where I started, but instead it finished somewhere a ways off my map. And I really didn’t want to pay to get on another tram back into the city. What to do?

After taking a minute to sum up all my inner creativity to avoid paying the extra 1.40€, I figured out a solution: follow the cable car tracks back!

These tracks eventually led me back onto the map, where I stumbled around aimlessly past a plethora of gardens, churches and interesting architecture. I passed the time climbing up spiderweb ropes on the playground,

stopping by the Palace of the National Assembly, where some important people were arriving to a symphony of trumpets and a gaggle of cops,

and enjoying the view of one of the city’s touristy funiculars. No, I did not get on this one.

Toward the end of the day I thought about throwing some Smart Cars into canals, but then thought better of it.

As my day was nearing its end, I found myself in a small mall close to our hostel. Of course one store called out to me in particular:

Surprisingly there was nothing there for me, but while sniffing the new shoes (I love that smell!) I got to thinking about this blog post. It came to me that one place had tied the last two posts together, even though they occurred half-a-world apart. It’s really the only thing that unites people from all over the world around one common goal. I quickly headed upstairs to the food court, where I knew that one had to be waiting for me. Even though it was now 4pm, this place was still quite crowded, but crowds are something you grow to love at this food haven. I waited in the back of the line, and just a few minutes later I finished a great day in the perfect way: with an M&M McFlurry.

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Puzzles for Postcards

Rhyme Time! Solve all three of these European geography triple rhymes.

The soft, warm jacket one’s brother’s daughter bought outside the Parthenon
A dwelling for Travelocity’s mascot near the Colosseum
A country in the United Kingdom Fedexes small, sharp objects it bought at Home Depot
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Picture of the Day: My favorite picture from my romp around the city today.

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Jon Lovitz and Rude Waiters

6/1/10 – 6/3/10: Madrid, Spain

I never thought I’d say this, but Spain feels a lot like home. Perhaps it’s because we’ve been in South America for the past three months and after too long in one-of-a-kind countries like Bolivia, just about anything would feel like home. Perhaps it’s because we can once again drink the tap water, order ice in our beverages and throw toilet paper in the toilet. Perhaps it’s symbolic: we just left our vacation with our families, so it’s as if we are moving away to college and then work, just like we did a few years ago in the States.

My gut feeling though is that it’s the people. Madrid is Bizarro America. In Bolivia and Peru, I could usually take one look at someone and decide if they were a local or a tourist. (Keep in mind, I’m generalizing here – I probably didn’t correctly spot 100% of the locals there, but there was usually a common look amongst most local men and women.) Many women, for example, wore very colorful and ornate outfits. It seemed like almost every Bolivian woman had on a bowler hat and carried a brightly-colored blanket full of stuff on her back.

Upon arriving in Madrid though, I was amazed at how – for lack of a better term – not Spanish people looked. The darker skin of South America? Gone. The flamboyant clothing? Gone. Instead I saw thousands of people who looked exactly like people I know. If I weren’t in Madrid, I probably would have gone up to many of them to say hi. Instead, I looked on from my safe distance, whispering to Zhou:

“It’s the guy I worked with at Wachovia!”
“Look, there’s Nick Nolte!”
“Hey, there goes my friend’s girlfriend! What’s she doing with that guy?”
“I’m pretty sure that was my next-door neighbor growing up!”

I didn’t write down a full list, but I’m also positive I saw Roger Ebert, my old boss and two other co-workers, Jon Lovitz, the local weatherman and even Minnie Mouse.

Doesn't she look just like Minnie?

If I had wanted to, I probably could have got a poker game going with just old acquaintances from high school. (Unfortunately I didn’t know how to say “poker” in Spanish.) Although it is a bit weird seeing so many people I know, it’s also kind of nice.

…

My other subtle, ingenious observation here has been regarding restaurant service. I had heard that waiters in France were rude, but never did I expect the same out of classy, awesome Madrid! Before I make my next comment, let me preface with a short story.

Zhou enjoys eating out at a nice restaurant occasionally, so back when we had jobs I would take her to the Melting Pot every year on our anniversary. For those of you who’ve never been: don’t go. It costs a fortune, but the food is so good that it sucks you into returning again, and again. (Remember, this is coming from a guy whose favorite restaurants are Skyline Chili and BW3.) And to top it all off, we’ve had excellent service every time we’ve gone. One waiter was so good that I tipped over 25% on a $100 meal.

Story’s over. Here in Madrid, for the first and second times that I can remember, I left a restaurant without giving a tip. (Zhou has been leaving me in charge of the money lately.) At one restaurant every single waiter ignored us for about 20 minutes, and when one finally took our order he wouldn’t clear our table of the previous customers’ dinner remains. In fact, he later brought us our dishes and squeezed them into the small gaps between the leftover trash, plates, cigarettes and spilled food. At another restaurant the waitress refused to put anything down in front of us. Instead, she put everything, one-by-one into the far corner (closest to her) of the table behind the salt shakers and olive oil. Only after we reached over and got it for ourselves would she bring another dish. And not once did either of the servers say a word to us. Maybe that’s just how it is here in Europe. It really makes me miss the over-friendly service workers that we encountered throughout South America.

That being said, I really like Madrid.

Full of character.

Colorful gardens.

Magnificent buildings.

Vivid skies.

Real-life statue people making out.

The Royal Palace.

Ornate lampposts.

Picturesque narrow streets.

Historical churches.

Egyptian temples.

Beautiful sunsets.

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Puzzles for Postcards

The Truth Behind This Famed Man Anagram

Taunt-Making Hunk
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Pictures of the Day: Zhou The Photographer doing a compare and contrast of the Royal Palace and Plaza Mayor.

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This Actually Has Nothing To Do With The Firm

5/28/10: Iquitos, Peru

In honor of my latest reading milestone, John Grisham’s The Firm (which, by the way, was fantastic), today I’d like to bring you a two-part post in the theme of a crooked corporate office.

1. This place is definitely bugged.
2. Get me those pdfs… pronto!

(1) This place is definitely bugged. The problem with our visit to the Great Wall was that it was absolutely frigid outside – almost too cold and too windy to move. The problem with the Inca Trail was TWWAIQ who wouldn’t stop asking inane questions. The problem with Bangkok was that it was awful. But those are all temporary problems: seasonal, circumstantial or scamtastic. (Yes, I do believe that one day Bangkok will turn into an enjoyable city.) The Amazon rainforest, however, has a problem that will never go away: mosquitoes.

I know Amy touched on this in her first guest post, but it bears repeating. The mosquitoes here will drain you of your will to go on, as if you were watching the never-ending disaster (movie) that is 2012. After the third night I actually plotted out a few different escape strategies just to get away from the devilish bugs:

• Leave on the boat with the other three members on our group. But this would be too easy.
• Tame a jaguar and ride it through the jungle a la Harold and Kumar on their cheetah (only we’d ride our animal to safety). But this might take too long and thus encourage further bites.
• Drown ourselves in the river, thus permanently putting an end to our misery. The only viable option.

This might seem a bit harsh, but if you ever saw any of Amy’s limbs during this week you’d understand. I’m pretty sure any competent doctor would have asked her if she’d like some skin to go with her bug bites. No amount of DEET or Off! Skintastic for Kids could block the barrage of insects. The repellents simply acted like the 15 security guards surrounding an SEC basketball court when the home fans want to rush the playing surface. 20,000 on 15 – it’s not a fair fight. I myself had repeatedly asked Zhou to cut off my own feet to put an end to the itchy misery, but Amy really put my own problems in perspective. I quickly learned that Zhou is not the only Zhang who is ten times tougher than me.

However – yes, there is a however – we have now made it to day 5, and all three of us are glad we stayed. Once there is no open skin left for a mosquito to bite, we were able to shift our entire focus to the amazing Amazon around us. I can’t imagine a more interesting and intricate ecosystem in the entire world. One could spend 10,000 days in the jungle and discover something new and incredible each day. Unfortunately we only have six. It really isn’t enough time.

(2) Get me those pdfs… pronto! I made a living for two years converting documents into Adobe pdfs, so I owe a lot to these crisp, beautiful files. But here in the rainforest, pdfs have a completely different meaning: poison dart frogs. Today we went hunting for pdfs.

Our guide, Moises and his friend from the village, Miguel, led the charge in the forest with a simple sentence of guidance: “Keep your eyes peeled for frogs in case we miss any.” Don’t worry guides, I thought. I’ve wanted to see these things ever since Sigourney Weaver introduced them to me on Planet Earth – I’ll have no trouble find a bright, neon frog in the woods.

Two hours later and no one had seen a single pdf. Two tiny, ugly toads had jumped by, but that was it. I imagined in my head that we had somehow caught the pdfs during their big weekly congregation. Somewhere far away in the woods there were hundreds of colorful frogs huddling as if in a rugby scrum, discussing their plans for the upcoming week. If only we could find this scrum! It would be magical. Unfortunately, we were stuck close to the path. And there were no frogs in sight.

Just as we were about to give up, Miguel shispered (that’s short for shout whispered) to us to come see. He had a pdf trapped under an l (that’s short for leaf). We all scurried over quicker than Brianna the soccer player. Moises took once glimpse and proclaimed, “Oooh, that’s the most poisonous frog in the rainforest.” He then grabbed the frog and leaf in his bare hand.

Look at how tiny that thing is! (Yes, it’s full grown.) No wonder I never saw one. But now that I did see it, it became my favorite animal in the rainforest. It’s so colorful, but so deadly. (Obviously not to the touch though, as Moises just proved. Apparently it will burn the skin off your face and would kill you if you eat it, but it won’t hurt your palm. Just be sure to wash your hands after touching.) It’s so cute, but so amphibious. It’s just plain interesting.

Needless to say, I thoroughly enjoyed the end result of our search for pdfs. Just for fun, check out some of the other colorful things we found along the way.

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Puzzles for Postcards

Where Am I? Name the landmark and the country.

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Picture of the Day: Jungle proposal.

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A Play in Three Acts (Thank Goodness Amy is Here)

5/23/10: Lima, Peru

Act I

One of the main reasons I’m glad Amy is here is because I can once again participate in the group conversations. No more pretending to care about which baseball teams are leading which divisions. No more speculating about the future of the Cleveland Cavaliers. No more forced lukewarm statements of “Yeah, I completely agree, LeBron is the best basketball player ever to live…” No more of that – now we can talk about books! Just as an example, here’s a sample of a conversation we had last night while looking at our hostel book exchange shelf:

Z: Hey! The Chase by Louisa May Alcott!
A: Weird.
Z: I’ve never heard of it. I thought I had read all the books by Louisa May Alcott.
A: Apparently not.
Z: reads the back cover aloud. Amy, you know what? These characters’ names sound like ones that Anne of Green Gables would have made up before she became a good writer.
A: You’re right, they do! … Hey…why did Stephen King review a book written by Louisa May Alcott?
Z: That is weird. I don’t know…
K: Bronson Arroyo! Bronson Arroyo!
A and Z stare confusedly at K.

Ok, I made that last part up. I just didn’t want Kevin to be left out of the conversation.

Act II

Poor Amy had to sit through an administrative day in the life of Zhou and Kevin. Luckily, she’s already learned how to sit patiently while other people do really boring things because, after all, she is a college student. Anyway, we were trying to plan the next segment of our trip, which is Spain. We will be flying to Madrid and we had planned on taking the train to Barcelona for four or five days as well. Then I looked up train ticket prices from Madrid to Barcelona, and that plan went out the window. So then we looked up flights on Ryan Air and Iberia and we came up with a list of five cities we could fly to for a few days. They were: Barcelona, Amsterdam, Vienna, Paris and Marrakech. Then the three of us each ranked the cities separately. Then the discussion began. It went something like this:

Z: Well, if money is no object, definitely Paris. I love Paris.
A: To be honest though, I only ranked Paris so high because of the food.
K: I think Paris is too expensive. And Zhou, you’ve been there already.
Z: That was ten years ago!
K: Hey, let’s go to Amsterdam!
A: What’s in Amsterdam?
K: I don’t know, I only want to go there because of the Guster song.
Z: Ok, Amsterdam’s out.
A: Why don’t you guys just go to Barcelona like you originally planned?
Z: Yeah Kevin, why don’t we just go to Barcelona like we originally planned?
K: I want to go somewhere else. We’re already going to Spain.
Z: That makes NO sense.

And on it went. For hours, it seemed. But we eventually did decide on a city. Ready? Guess where we’re going in a couple of weeks? Lisbon!

I’m just as confused as you are.

Act III

Today we flew to Iquitos. We flew with Peruvian Airlines, and the flight was so packed that when we checked in that there were no seats available together, so we had to sit one behind the other, in middle seats. Now, I know I’m going to sound like a spoiled brat when I say this, but I always sit in the window seat. And that’s just how it is. What? I like to look out the window.

I once read somewhere that the person in the middle gets to use two armrests. I remember this very distinctly because 1) I had never heard of that rule before reading it and 2) what a great rule! It only makes sense, right? The window person gets to look out the window and sleep against the side of the plane. The aisle person gets to get up and walk around whenever they feel like it without having to dance around other people’s laps. The middle person gets nothing except the opportunity to feel that their person space is being completely invaded by the two large people sitting on either side of them. They should at least get one extra armrest as a consolation prize! Anyway, I’ve never really had a chance to test how widely known this “middle person gets two armrests” rule is because, like I said, I always sit in the window seat.

Folks – people DO NOT KNOW about this rule. I was quite indignant that both ladies sitting beside me immediately took possession of two armrests each and then promptly fell asleep. And the thing is, the issue isn’t even the armrests themselves. Because I don’t really like armrests. 1) They’re a bit too high for me, 2) I am self conscious about my abnormally long and skinny arms and think they look even longer and skinnier in that awkwardly unnatural position and 3) airplane armrests are not comfortable. So here’s the gist of the situation: I don’t even like using armrests, and if I had never read that the middle person gets both armrests I probably wouldn’t have even noticed that both my armrests got taken, but I still spent the entire one hour and forty minute flight plotting on how to take my armrests back.

I never succeeded.
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Puzzles for Postcards

Rhyme Time! Solve all three of these triple rhymes featuring recent NHC visiting family members.

A hip hangout for happy fathers
Throw a brother an “All Day Strong” pain reliever
Let a tiny Irish sister go into the wild
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Picture of the Day: Hanging out by the Pacific Ocean.

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