Making Sushi is Hard

The other day we went to a "sushi workshop": a 3-hour hands-on lecture covering the basics of making sushi. The "lecturer" was the Sushi chef from the Hotel Ritz, a funny (and rather patient) Brazilian guy. I am not sure if this kind of workshops is common elsewhere, but the whole concept is quite interesting and original: you pay a fix amount of money (from 30€ to 50€, depending on whether you want to buy a basic "kit" for making sushi at home), they provide you with materials and explanations for you to produce some basic pieces. By "materials" I mean rice cooked in the right way and a small piece of salmon. At the end of the lecture, you eat all the pieces you manage produce along the session (each of us produced about 20 pieces).

Unsurprisingly, in such a short lecture you're not able to learn (nor to practice) the most crucial and delicate aspects of making sushi, namely cooking the rice and cutting the fish. On the one hand, I didn't know that not only you need to use a special kind of Japanese rice (which comes in different sizes) but also you need to add some vinegar to it once it is cooked. This process aims at obtaining a proper consistency in the grains, and depends critically on using a special wooden bowl. On the other hand, fish needs to be extra fresh, and has to be clean up and cut carefully, in order to take the most of it avoiding spines. If you make some mistake cutting the fish then you should go through a (long) process of removing the spines by hand. There is also a small instrument that helps you with that.

The main lesson from the workshop is that making sushi is indeed harder than what it looks. I would love to go to eat sushi to the restaurant of the Hotel Ritz, just to see how our teacher behaves in real life. However, this is extremely unlikely to occur. After this experience, we realize that paying 6€ for 10-12 pieces is not particularly expensive.

Italian Pérez

While looking for information on vandalism acts on the Portuguese internet infrastructures, Google pointed me to an interesting website on the origin, story, and roots of Italian last names. The site is cool because it gives you an idea of the geographical region in which last names were originated. For instance, if your last name is "Montagner" (just to give a random example), then most likely you were born in the Veneto region. Oddly enough, there is an entry for "Pérez" (and Peres). It reads:

Peres ha un ceppo nell'udinese che dovrebbe derivare da una versione dialettale del nome Pero derivato da Piero che è una modificazione del nome Pietro, ha ceppi nel napoletano, nel foggiano ed in Sicilia. Perez ha vari ceppi in Sicilia, nel napoletano e nel brindisino, di chiara origine spagnola dovrebbe trattarsi di un patronimico dal nome spagnolo Pero (Pietro) con l'aggiunta del suffisso -ez per figlio di, o di una sua modificazione.

What the above text suggests is that there might be Italians with last name Pérez (well, probably without the accent) all around Italy: in Udine (north), but mostly in the south: Foggia, Naples, Sicily, Brindisi. This came as a surprise to me, even if I was aware of the strong connections between Spain and what nowadays corresponds to southern Italy (see here for further information).

Writing about myself

This blog has been abandoned for a number of reasons. I like to think I have been busy working hard and having fun traveling around. However, in the last months I have spent a substantial amount of my time writing about myself, with the purpose of convincing people in the academic world to hire me as a researcher or as a professor.

This writing experience has proven quite challenging for me: not only I have to visualize myself in the future, I should also explain ---in concise and clear terms--- why my past is relevant. It is then a journey from the past to the future captured in a only few sentences. The strict, annoying space restrictions that one should adhere to make those sentences quite short, full of compelling adjectives. There is also the need of showing some coherence between what I have done, the things I have been doing, and the things that I would like to do. Also important is to explain technical things in non technical terms without being too vague or too precise. You never know who will read what you are writing; in fact, it might not be read by anyone.

Writing is difficult because writing is an inherently endless process: you usually stop writing because time is over, because the deadline is now. You rarely stop writing when the (suitability, research, teaching) statement is compelling, clear and concise. It will never be in that form: there will always be a more appropriate adjective, a sharper way of writing a sentence. As a scientific researcher in a world full of uncertainties and doubts, you are expected to write about your future in the most certain of the ways.

A kind suggestion

The real issue about the crisis is probably not the current sacrifices that most people have to do (higher taxes, suppressed compensations, omnipresent cuts) but the feeling that the worse is yet to come. The feeling that every measure intended to satisfy the markets (that abstract entity that punishes us) will not be enough. What are the solutions, then, if today's sacrifices are not enough and tomorrow's will be an even heavier and pointless burden?

An increasingly growing amount of people in Portugal are opting for emigrating to Portuguese-speaking countries which are, in principle, in a better shape, such as Brasil and Angola. Perhaps unless you're a young professional, leaving your country seems like the most dishonorable solution of all; the most public demonstration that you are giving up. This is probably why a recent suggestion of the Portuguese prime minister appears so shocking. In reference to the high rates of teachers unemployment, the prime minister frankly suggested all unemployed teachers to leave the country, and to consider relocating in Portuguese-speaking countries. He was speaking about teachers, but we all got the kind suggestion. The suggestion seemingly caused a lot of controversy. A right-wing eurodiputate went further, and suggested the creation of a national agency for supporting emigration.

Many hard questions arise. What are your concrete alternatives (or hopes, of you want) if the prime minister of the country you live in suggests you to leave the country? Would the prime ministers of, say, France, Italy, or the UK suggest their unemployed citizens to leave the country? What can be inferred about the Portuguese character, based on the suggestions of the prime minister?

The Colombian photo album

In the typical Colombian photo album people are the most important element of every picture. A picture without people is as sad and pointless as a postcard---an extraneous concept to the average Colombian. What is the point of going to the Statue of Liberty if you do not appear in every single picture? We have seen the statue on TV and movies; no further pictures are needed.  In the logic of the Colombian photo album, the classic sights of every remarkable city (New York, Barcelona, Buenos Aires, you name it) become truly relevant and worth seeing if your friend or relative is there, even if she, he, or they completely cover/ruin the sight. Remember: it is not a picture of "La Gran Vía when we visited", it is "Us at La Gran Vía" instead. Out-of-focus pictures are OK: this is not about photography, it is about we showing off where we went. Pictures of less known sights become understandable thanks to our friend who points with his finger the detail we should not miss. A minor exception to the people criteria tends to be food and beer (especially that of strange brands), which is immortalized with enough zoom-in. The imaginative minds will always play with perspective so as to touch the Eiffer tower, the leaning tower of Pisa, or the sun itself with only two fingers! Photographing animals at the zoo is ridiculous unless you're in the frame---recall: it is better if you point at the animal. Those visiting London will create a separate album with them pretending making a call from the stereotypical red phone boot; otherwise, what's the point of going to London? Yes, touching a nice, expensive car in the street and taking a quick picture is fun. Taking a picture at yourself is always an option when traveling alone, when you're not able to ask for a picture in the local language, or when you're in Colombia---the one doing you the favor may run faster than you.