by icarus
It was the Diwali, the Hindu Festival of Lights. It’s a celebration that rivals Christmas in pageantry and color – at least in Dubai where better than half of the population are of Hindu descent. Although Christians, most Filipinos in our office join the celebrations. We get invited into the homes of Indian friends and officemates and we partake of the foods and sweets and delicacies prepared to overflowing. For this particular Diwali night, we sort of agreed to gather in Hari’s flat for dinner. His flat has a quite spacious living room equipped with a Videoke, ideal for such social event. But the more compelling reason for him to host a party was to show off his newborn baby boy.
As arranged the previous day, I will have to pick-up Rituh from her apartment so we could ride together to Sharjah , where Hari lives. Rituh is our office receptionists, a young Mumbai lady who won’t have any trouble charming a lift from any of the bachelors in our office who are all smitten by her stunning beauty. But she chose to hitch a ride with me because she feels most comfortable with someone whom she considers a harmless older brother.
At six o-clock on the dot, my car was parked just in front of Ritu’s place. I went straight to the residential building’s lobby. In front of the lobby, on the sidewalk are grade school boys playing and horsing around rowdily as I passed them by. They remind me of my sons when they were younger. All were loud and excited except for this young handsome boy of ten or eleven who was just sitting on the lower steps of the stair case inside the lobby – holding his skateboard. Ah, my Jay-ar used to be very good at skateboard, I remembered, when he was at the same age as this boy. He was alone and silent, almost sad. I winked and smiled at him trying to cheer him up. He looked into my direction but he seemed to gazed through me – no reaction. I stop by the building guard’s desk to ask for entry permission and directions on which way is to flat 919. He politely gestured me to the right lift lobby so I walked past the staircase and the sad boy wasn’t there anymore. maybe he’d joined the others.
There are six elevator doors, three on each opposing side of the lift lobby. I pressed the up button on the very first door but the chime sounded from the last one at the end of the lobby so I ambled towards it and stood facing the stainless door, waiting for it to part. When it finally opened, I quickly dashed in. And he was there, the boy with his skateboard.
He pressed for the ninth floor even before I could lift my hand. Maybe he overheard us when I asked directions from the Guard. “So you live in the ninth floor?” I attempted for small talk. Silence. He just stood there and stared at the mirrorized sidings of the lift cabin. Something peculiar strikes me with the way he looked but at that moment I could not tell what it was. “Do you know Ritu?”, I asked again. He turned halfway and smiled slightly. I took that to mean yes. The lift shuddered to a stop before I could follow up on my queries.
I stepped out and looked at the door numbers along the corridor. 908, 907, …906. The numbers diminishes towards my left – I walk to towards my right. Perfect logic. As I do so, the elevator door started to close, the boy remained inside, gazing through me, still with that slight smile. “Hmmm…”, I thought to myself. “He was a friendly lift operator, after all.”
Door 919 is just around the third bend. I realized it would have been nearer to walk towards the left rather than the right after the elevator. “You and your lousy logic”, I chided myself. Maybe the boy was smiling because I took the longer direction. What a helpful brat!
Ritu’s refreshing face appeared on the doorway after my second buzz. “How nice of you, Mr Sunni. I think you’re five minutes too early though. I still have to be in the powder room. Come and have a sit inside. I’ll have Shahin prepare some drinks for you”.
Ritu, despite her cosmopolitan looks and outlooks, still speaks with a distinct sing-song accent revealing her origins. But her living room is completely contemporary, no hint of ethnic decors and tapestries and hard colors that usually dominate Indian homes. The sofa and sala set including the center table are straight out of IKEA. The entertainment stand frames her full-HD Flat screen, Blue-ray player, mini-theater components, and a docked ipod; the stand-up speakers providing harmonized counterpoints on either side of the stand. A desktop computer sits on a reading table beside a book cabinet. The walls and the curtains are color-coordinated. A cubist style painting hangs by the wall. Very contemporary indeed
On top of the book cabinet, a picture framed in clear plastic caught my eye. I approached it for a closer look. It was the boy in the lift. Now I know why he looks so striking to me while I observed him in the elevator. He actually has Ritu’s eyes and cleft chin, even the long eye-lashes. They must be siblings.
“That’s Tahir, my younger brother. People tell me we resemble each other.” It’s Ritu emerging from the passageway.
“Yes, so much.” I agreed. “I meet him a while ago in the lift. He was a little shy, isn’t it? I think he’s sad about something, too”.
“Let’s go, I’m ready” she said. “Finish your tea.”
“Ok, its finish.” I put the tea cup down.
This time, we proceeded by the shorter route to the lift.
“So you met my brother, too?” she asked quite laughingly while on the way down in the lift.
“Yes”, I said. “But why are you smiling?”
She just smiled her knowing smile some more. “A number of people have told me the same story. Is he holding his skateboard?”
“Yes.”
“My brother was riding that thing in the street when he got hit by a speeding SUV. It was a horrific accident!”
“Oh, he recovered very well”, I said.
“No, he did not survive it. He’s dead since three years ago.”
My hair stood up. Now I realized why he looked so peculiar while we were on the lift.
He did not have a reflection in the mirrorized wall!
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Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Monday, January 26, 2009
The Jueteng Combination
Two weeks after it was posted, the puzzle in my article Amusing Challenge 2 remains unresolved except for the cryptic comment posted by Carlo Chan which hinted on the correct answer but left out the rationale. Knowing Carlo, he either is too busy attending at his daytime job (He is a Structural Engineer at BG&E Consulting) or he considers the puzzle too simple as to be self-evident. A third but unlikely explanation is that he is one of them - ET's. hehehe. So here's how I would have solved it...
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The Jueteng Combination
by icarus
A lot of people were thrown off at their attempt at making sense of the puzzle because they made wrong assumptions. Most start their solutions using ratios and scaling the numbers to fit the given sums and products. But it doesn’t work that way and invariably, they end up with contradictions and inconsistencies.
A subtle clue which most people miss or dismiss as inconsequential is the number of fingers in those extra terrestrials: four fingers in each hand.
Have you ever wondered why we usually, almost intuitively, group things by ten or multiples of ten? Or why we have ten numerical symbols, 0 to 9? Yes, you got it right - it’s because we have ten fingers in our hands! Our number systems evolved from our primitive way of counting with our fingers. But as the homo sapien advances, the need to count beyond ten also became a real challenge. Man ran out of fingers to use and he cant possibly have unique symbols to represent the infinitely large number of integers. Thus, place values in the numeric system were invented. The 5 in 25 is totally different from the 5 in 524 because they occupy different locations, although they have exactly the same symbol. Using this concept, we actually meant:
524 = 5 x 10^2 + 2 x 10^1 + 4 x 10^0 = 5 x 100 + 2 x 10 + 4 x 1 = 500 + 20 + 4
25 = 2 x 10^1 + 5 x 10^0 = 2 x 10 + 5 x 1 = 20 + 5
To us in the present age, this idea of place values is not given a second glance - no big deal -as if it is a natural phenomenon - but it is not! It was one of the most remarkable concepts ever developed by man. If you don’t believe me, try dividing 2364 by 8 using the less evolved Roman Numerals!
Which bring us back to the ET’s with 8 fingers in their hands. We can hypothesize that they will also be grouping things by eight, not ten, as a matter of natural course. As such, they will only use 8 symbols, ( 0 to 7). And they will use powers of 8 to define their place values much like we use powers of 10 (and much like the electrical logic circuit which uses powers of two because it only got two states, on or off representing one or zero)
Thus, if we test our theory on the given sum we prove that:
765 + 45
= (7 x 8^2 + 6 x 8^1 + 5 x 8^0) + (4 x 8^1 + 5 x 8^0)
= 501 + 37
= 538 in our decimal system.
1,032
(1 x 8^3 + 0 x 8^2 + 3 x 8^1 + 2 x 8^0)
= 538 also, in our decimal system.
2 x 63
= (2 x 8^0) x (6 x8^1 + 3 x 8^0)
= 2 x 51
= 102 in our decimal system.
146
= (1 x 8^2 + 4 x 8^1 + 6 x 8^0)
= 102 also,in our decimal system.
Thus, it is verified that the numbers were actually written in base 8.
In same manner, you can arrive at the winning combination being sought by my friend, Pidol which is:
16 + 3 = 21
72 - 54 = 16
A lot of people were thrown off at their attempt at making sense of the puzzle because they made wrong assumptions. Most start their solutions using ratios and scaling the numbers to fit the given sums and products. But it doesn’t work that way and invariably, they end up with contradictions and inconsistencies.
A subtle clue which most people miss or dismiss as inconsequential is the number of fingers in those extra terrestrials: four fingers in each hand.
Have you ever wondered why we usually, almost intuitively, group things by ten or multiples of ten? Or why we have ten numerical symbols, 0 to 9? Yes, you got it right - it’s because we have ten fingers in our hands! Our number systems evolved from our primitive way of counting with our fingers. But as the homo sapien advances, the need to count beyond ten also became a real challenge. Man ran out of fingers to use and he cant possibly have unique symbols to represent the infinitely large number of integers. Thus, place values in the numeric system were invented. The 5 in 25 is totally different from the 5 in 524 because they occupy different locations, although they have exactly the same symbol. Using this concept, we actually meant:
524 = 5 x 10^2 + 2 x 10^1 + 4 x 10^0 = 5 x 100 + 2 x 10 + 4 x 1 = 500 + 20 + 4
25 = 2 x 10^1 + 5 x 10^0 = 2 x 10 + 5 x 1 = 20 + 5
To us in the present age, this idea of place values is not given a second glance - no big deal -as if it is a natural phenomenon - but it is not! It was one of the most remarkable concepts ever developed by man. If you don’t believe me, try dividing 2364 by 8 using the less evolved Roman Numerals!
Which bring us back to the ET’s with 8 fingers in their hands. We can hypothesize that they will also be grouping things by eight, not ten, as a matter of natural course. As such, they will only use 8 symbols, ( 0 to 7). And they will use powers of 8 to define their place values much like we use powers of 10 (and much like the electrical logic circuit which uses powers of two because it only got two states, on or off representing one or zero)
Thus, if we test our theory on the given sum we prove that:
765 + 45
= (7 x 8^2 + 6 x 8^1 + 5 x 8^0) + (4 x 8^1 + 5 x 8^0)
= 501 + 37
= 538 in our decimal system.
1,032
(1 x 8^3 + 0 x 8^2 + 3 x 8^1 + 2 x 8^0)
= 538 also, in our decimal system.
2 x 63
= (2 x 8^0) x (6 x8^1 + 3 x 8^0)
= 2 x 51
= 102 in our decimal system.
146
= (1 x 8^2 + 4 x 8^1 + 6 x 8^0)
= 102 also,in our decimal system.
Thus, it is verified that the numbers were actually written in base 8.
In same manner, you can arrive at the winning combination being sought by my friend, Pidol which is:
16 + 3 = 21
72 - 54 = 16
both in the octal system.
Anunsiyo: Naparagsit nga Pandek!
.
.
hehehe...
-ise.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
How I become a Prince – Part 2
by Angelo C. Canedo
My First Encounter
It was seven am; the alarm woke me yawning while I stood up almost losing the balance. Impatiently, I dressed up after an inevitable scorching bathe. My hunger brought me to the kitchen beyond my room where the table has been set with a bunch of meal that might have been prepared for me for dinner. Looking awkward to the mixture of yellowish rice and cuts of chicken, which they call the ‘biryani’ and a side dish of leafy vegetables with slices of onions and lemon adding the drama, caused me to lose my appetite. I rushed to the pantry to prepare a cup of coffee; its aroma had been enough for me to calm the boiling stomach.
I was directed to the main access across the kitchen and traversed immediately passing along the yard where excess construction materials were shelved methodically depending on importance and the others were scattered within the boundary blocking the way to the office. The sun was radiating unselfishly causing a warmer atmosphere than it was last night so I dashed a distant away and in haste to punch my time card. Fronting the reception is Arnel who was busy with phone calls and office works. “Good morning kabayan!” replying him back in the same manner as he inserted his concise greeting. Simultaneously, while wandering in a small office suited for the business, a shouting dispute echoing at the room next to Arnel captured my attention. “Boss is inside! You will meet him afterwards”, he continued after his phone conversation in a simple-carabao english as if he is cautioning a kindergarten what has to be done.
To establish an acquaintance, Arnel being used with the circumstance figured out an incomparably boring place like Abqaiq – the home to one of the most conservative cultures on the planet where the second largest oil and gas plant in the world can be found. His fairly earned sincere testimony was terribly disappointing for enthusiasts. Few minutes later, two irritated men who went out from the room approached me with misery after the reprimand. “Hi, I am Faiz, the project manager” told the one confidently who resembled fresh from sleep. “Gauz will be your driver for the time being” he continued referring to the other Indian in distinctive unwashed clothing with dried grease spots accentuating his get-up.
Faiz courteously appealed for a lecture and summarized the ABCs beneficial to a neophyte like me as he displayed the breakdown of my undertakings. During the argument, a Saudi national feeling smart and gorgeous (but absurd to me) in his ankle-length colorless vestment with sleeves like a clergy, just enough to fit his masculinity, head dressed with red and white checkered piece of rectangular cloth folded to form a triangle stiffened on top by a black snake-like wreath came out from the room and moved in the direction where Faiz and I were seated.
Salah, seriously in a frowned countenance that made me more apprehensive relayed his message through Faiz who can speak both English and Arabic quite fluently. He gave me a copy of my passport stamped with his signature enough to prove that I am employed in his company. Together, he handed me an advance pay while an impulsive call as it was before the dawn break interrupted the informal talk.
After a while, everybody left the office except me and Arnel who was also about to leave. “Join me for lunch sir” is Arnel’s cordial invitation while I remained mesmerizing my ignorance. “You will get used to their music playing five times a day as a cue for their prayers” he added ridiculously while looking at the people rushing towards the mosque across the office.
Though Arnel belittled his apologetic and humble preparation, I guzzled to his offer of left-over fried rice and micro waved ‘chicken adobo’ outnumbered with countless slices of potatoes enough to augment my skipped meals. After which Arnel while sharing his often described as regrettable encounters accompanied me to the nearby ‘baqalla’; the incessant odor emanating from filthy shoppers inside the mini-supermarket (except me) had been so uncomfortable causing us to rush out after purchasing my needful. The undesirable incident brought me to come across a ‘mullah’; a Muslim learned in Islamic law and theology. “How are you kabayan?” he uttered in our language as Arnel dragged me away from him, knowing the smiling Filipino very well and murmured “Get rid of Salem otherwise you will be in trouble”. No further interrogations as I became aware of our pre-departure seminar picturing Muslims like Salem communally known as ‘muttawah’ are police assets. Later then after the hassles, Arnel and I parted ways to engage in our own work obligations.
As the days turned into weeks and weeks into a month – still a long wait for the calendar to finish the pages for a two-year contract, I have tried to adjust in all the aspects in an abrupt interval but the strenuous work-home routines always trigger my homesickness. To overcome the incident, it became a part of the stereotype activity to play ‘tong-its’ in my room as our favorite hang-out, with a bottle of ‘sadiqi’ or a preserved mixture of water and yeast fermented to become an alcoholic drink that could possibly invite the sleep. Before the session, we used to fetch ‘sadiqi’ from the neighboring camp hidden in a small bottle of mineral water since liquor or any of its form in Saudi is prohibited. As usual, the ever-disappointed Ras being aggravated by his so-called parasites who often call him for another remittance turned his misfortune to shuffle the cards more often as a result of his bad luck.
One Thursday evening, while we were amused by our stories, drunk but still conscious as we have gone ludicrous laughing at our stupid jokes, somebody knocked at the door expecting it would be Gauz whom I sent for an errand to buy us a grilled chicken for our ‘pulutan’. The door was unlocked and to our surprise Salem is observing the scenario with cards and ‘sadiqi’ in our hands prepared for the toast…
My First Encounter
It was seven am; the alarm woke me yawning while I stood up almost losing the balance. Impatiently, I dressed up after an inevitable scorching bathe. My hunger brought me to the kitchen beyond my room where the table has been set with a bunch of meal that might have been prepared for me for dinner. Looking awkward to the mixture of yellowish rice and cuts of chicken, which they call the ‘biryani’ and a side dish of leafy vegetables with slices of onions and lemon adding the drama, caused me to lose my appetite. I rushed to the pantry to prepare a cup of coffee; its aroma had been enough for me to calm the boiling stomach.
I was directed to the main access across the kitchen and traversed immediately passing along the yard where excess construction materials were shelved methodically depending on importance and the others were scattered within the boundary blocking the way to the office. The sun was radiating unselfishly causing a warmer atmosphere than it was last night so I dashed a distant away and in haste to punch my time card. Fronting the reception is Arnel who was busy with phone calls and office works. “Good morning kabayan!” replying him back in the same manner as he inserted his concise greeting. Simultaneously, while wandering in a small office suited for the business, a shouting dispute echoing at the room next to Arnel captured my attention. “Boss is inside! You will meet him afterwards”, he continued after his phone conversation in a simple-carabao english as if he is cautioning a kindergarten what has to be done.
To establish an acquaintance, Arnel being used with the circumstance figured out an incomparably boring place like Abqaiq – the home to one of the most conservative cultures on the planet where the second largest oil and gas plant in the world can be found. His fairly earned sincere testimony was terribly disappointing for enthusiasts. Few minutes later, two irritated men who went out from the room approached me with misery after the reprimand. “Hi, I am Faiz, the project manager” told the one confidently who resembled fresh from sleep. “Gauz will be your driver for the time being” he continued referring to the other Indian in distinctive unwashed clothing with dried grease spots accentuating his get-up.
Faiz courteously appealed for a lecture and summarized the ABCs beneficial to a neophyte like me as he displayed the breakdown of my undertakings. During the argument, a Saudi national feeling smart and gorgeous (but absurd to me) in his ankle-length colorless vestment with sleeves like a clergy, just enough to fit his masculinity, head dressed with red and white checkered piece of rectangular cloth folded to form a triangle stiffened on top by a black snake-like wreath came out from the room and moved in the direction where Faiz and I were seated.
Salah, seriously in a frowned countenance that made me more apprehensive relayed his message through Faiz who can speak both English and Arabic quite fluently. He gave me a copy of my passport stamped with his signature enough to prove that I am employed in his company. Together, he handed me an advance pay while an impulsive call as it was before the dawn break interrupted the informal talk.
After a while, everybody left the office except me and Arnel who was also about to leave. “Join me for lunch sir” is Arnel’s cordial invitation while I remained mesmerizing my ignorance. “You will get used to their music playing five times a day as a cue for their prayers” he added ridiculously while looking at the people rushing towards the mosque across the office.
Though Arnel belittled his apologetic and humble preparation, I guzzled to his offer of left-over fried rice and micro waved ‘chicken adobo’ outnumbered with countless slices of potatoes enough to augment my skipped meals. After which Arnel while sharing his often described as regrettable encounters accompanied me to the nearby ‘baqalla’; the incessant odor emanating from filthy shoppers inside the mini-supermarket (except me) had been so uncomfortable causing us to rush out after purchasing my needful. The undesirable incident brought me to come across a ‘mullah’; a Muslim learned in Islamic law and theology. “How are you kabayan?” he uttered in our language as Arnel dragged me away from him, knowing the smiling Filipino very well and murmured “Get rid of Salem otherwise you will be in trouble”. No further interrogations as I became aware of our pre-departure seminar picturing Muslims like Salem communally known as ‘muttawah’ are police assets. Later then after the hassles, Arnel and I parted ways to engage in our own work obligations.
As the days turned into weeks and weeks into a month – still a long wait for the calendar to finish the pages for a two-year contract, I have tried to adjust in all the aspects in an abrupt interval but the strenuous work-home routines always trigger my homesickness. To overcome the incident, it became a part of the stereotype activity to play ‘tong-its’ in my room as our favorite hang-out, with a bottle of ‘sadiqi’ or a preserved mixture of water and yeast fermented to become an alcoholic drink that could possibly invite the sleep. Before the session, we used to fetch ‘sadiqi’ from the neighboring camp hidden in a small bottle of mineral water since liquor or any of its form in Saudi is prohibited. As usual, the ever-disappointed Ras being aggravated by his so-called parasites who often call him for another remittance turned his misfortune to shuffle the cards more often as a result of his bad luck.
One Thursday evening, while we were amused by our stories, drunk but still conscious as we have gone ludicrous laughing at our stupid jokes, somebody knocked at the door expecting it would be Gauz whom I sent for an errand to buy us a grilled chicken for our ‘pulutan’. The door was unlocked and to our surprise Salem is observing the scenario with cards and ‘sadiqi’ in our hands prepared for the toast…
.
.
Abangan ang susunod na Kabanata...
.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Another Thank You Letter
Dear All,
I am pleased to share with you a letter from the Molina Family which I received belatedly just today expressing their genuine appreciation of the little amount we were able to share with them, a part of the amount we raised during our Christmas Picnic at the Creek Park.
-ise
January 5, 2009
To : Former SLC Engineering Instructors/
BSCE Alumni and Student of SLC
who are in Dubai , UAE
Through: Engr. Isagani Espejo
Engr. Raul Nones
Dubai , UAE
To : Former SLC Engineering Instructors/
BSCE Alumni and Student of SLC
who are in Dubai , UAE
Through: Engr. Isagani Espejo
Engr. Raul Nones
Dubai , UAE
Dear Fellow Louisians:
Greetings; A Prosperous New Year to all!
We can’t find adequate words to express our feelings on how grateful we are upon receiving the amount of ten thousand pesos (P10,000) as financial support you extended me which is intended for my medication and treatment for my present condition of prostate cancer. God has His own plans for each one of us and so I entrust everything now to God.
May all this blessings you extended me will return to you all and your families a thousand fold.
Thank you very much and God bless us all!
Very truly yours,
Mr. and Mrs. Sofronio Molina, Sr.
and Family
What's In A Name?
An Ilocano Green Joke
by icarus
I know of two brothers, Tim and Tom who lost their father at a very young age. We were neighbors in the same barangay and they grew up within my sight. So after being widowed a few years, their mother decided to remarry. By twist of kind fate, she got married to her American pen pal who is not only a good provider but is also loving and kindly and very close to the two boys.
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John is a retired US Marine who loves the beaches and the outdoors so he decided to retire to the easy life of La Union. He treated the boys like they were his own sons and they also take to him like a real father. The three of them were inseparable especially on weekends, constantly on board John's yellow Wrangler Jeep and going into outings, sporting events, fishing and even cockfights which John picked up from another neighbor. Tina could not be happier for his two boys. She felt she made a perfect choice when she married John.
For practical reasons, John decided to formalize the adoption of Tim and Tom. It would reduce much of the hassle, John justified, if they all have the same family name should they decide to move back to the US of A. Tina could not agree more and happily announced their decision to her sons... err...their sons. Imagine Tina's and John's surprise when the two boys vehemently protested.
"But Mama, we could not take Uncle John's family name. Flores is just fine. Let's keep it that way, please" they pleaded in chorus. John and Tina exchanged incredulous glances, shrugging their shoulders, obviously dismayed. "I know you love your father, but he is gone. He is a very reasonable man, god bless his soul...I know that he is happy that we found a very good man for you... for all of us. John loves you very much and wants you to be his real sons. I'm sure your father would understand that." Tina explained, feeling a little embarrassed and apologetic that John would be offended by the apparent snub.
Tom being the elder spoke out. "Actually, that is not our concern, Mama. We love to be Uncle John's sons and he knows that. But if we will have his family name, we will become the butt of jokes in the neighborhood and in school, especially. It will not sound so good"
Tina knitted her eyebrows and thought for a while... then upon discernment, burst into uncontrollable laughter...
John's family name is Manghar.
And it would sound sexy but vulgar after "Tim" or "Tom" in Ilocano!
For practical reasons, John decided to formalize the adoption of Tim and Tom. It would reduce much of the hassle, John justified, if they all have the same family name should they decide to move back to the US of A. Tina could not agree more and happily announced their decision to her sons... err...their sons. Imagine Tina's and John's surprise when the two boys vehemently protested.
"But Mama, we could not take Uncle John's family name. Flores is just fine. Let's keep it that way, please" they pleaded in chorus. John and Tina exchanged incredulous glances, shrugging their shoulders, obviously dismayed. "I know you love your father, but he is gone. He is a very reasonable man, god bless his soul...I know that he is happy that we found a very good man for you... for all of us. John loves you very much and wants you to be his real sons. I'm sure your father would understand that." Tina explained, feeling a little embarrassed and apologetic that John would be offended by the apparent snub.
Tom being the elder spoke out. "Actually, that is not our concern, Mama. We love to be Uncle John's sons and he knows that. But if we will have his family name, we will become the butt of jokes in the neighborhood and in school, especially. It will not sound so good"
Tina knitted her eyebrows and thought for a while... then upon discernment, burst into uncontrollable laughter...
John's family name is Manghar.
And it would sound sexy but vulgar after "Tim" or "Tom" in Ilocano!
.
. <<<<<<<<<<< >>>>>>>>>>>>
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Su-pot ti saan nga agkatawa hehehe.
-ise.
Why Me?
In Civil Engineering, men outnumber women perhaps by a ratio of 10 to 1. It's maybe because the Civil Engineering field is often considered a male, if not macho, domain - it being closely associated with the brawny, not to mention grimy, work of Construction. Thus, when ladies dare to be Civil Engineers, they must have that extra something to offset the "muscles" requirement; which usually means they have exceptional talent in math and have extraordinary mechanical aptitude. Norilyn Castillo was one of those shes who are gifted with such a rare combination of talents. Back in college, she was the silent type, almost shy yet very very smart. No wonder she was a consistent Dean's Lister and Academic Scholar. And looking at Norilyn, you might wonder why God was too unfairly generous to her - the quintessential beauty and brains. Louisians, lets give the space to the muse of SLC CE Class 96.
Why Me?
sent in by Norilyn Castillo
I asked God why I wasn't rich.
And He showed me a man with the wealth of a thousand kings, who was lonely, and had no one to share it with.
I asked God why I wasn't beautiful.
And He showed me a woman more beautiful than any other, who was ugly because of her vanity.
I asked God why he'd allowed me to become old.
And He showed me a boy of 16, who lay dead at the scene of a car accident.
I asked God why I didn't have a bigger house.
And He showed me a family of six, who'd just been evicted from their tiny shack, and were forced to live on the street.
I asked God why I had to work.
And He showed me a man who couldn't find a decent job, because he'd never learned to read.
I asked God why I wasn't more popular.
And He showed me a socialite with a thousand friends, who all left the moment the money and parties were no longer there.
I asked God why I wasn't smarter.
And He showed me a natural born genius, who was serving life in prison for making ill use of his knowledge.
I asked God why He put up with a thankless sinner like me.
And He showed me His Bible, and His Son who took my place at the judgment.
And I knew then how much He loved me.
.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
An Amusing Challenge II
Anak Ng Jueteng!
A Puzzle by Icarus
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A Puzzle by Icarus
.
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My friend, Pidol is obsessed at getting rich - and getting rich quick. That explains his penchant with sweepstakes, lotto, jueteng, even raffles or anything that offers big prizes for a minimal bet. Chances and probabilities doesn’t mean anything to him thus, he just shrugs off his shoulders everytime I tell him that he has more chances at catching a fish in the Sahara than getting the lotto number right.
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“It’s fate and luck. If the gods will it, it would happen. Someday the gods will show me a sign.” he maintains.
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And so, day by day, he waited and betted; and all the time looking for his long-awaited sign from heaven. He has numerical interpretations for everything, every incident, every move. The problem is, he is only able to decipher the clues and make the numbers fit his observations after the winning numbers are out. “Kam-mali manen diay kalag kon. Kusto kuma no datay pangkis nga nakalabos iti tinayaak. Datay to met anunsiyo iti asilok nga baket ti natayaak.”, he would lament.
.
But one Saturday morning, he was at my door very early. He seems very excited and out of breath like he ran the half a kilometer distance between his house and mine. “You seem upbeat today, Pidol. Did you come to give me my balato?” I jestingly asked. “No, not yet bossing.” said Pidol in between his pantings. “But if you will help me, I will surely win the jackpot at noon today.” I laughed and invited him in for coffee.
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“How could I help you? If I knew how to win it, we would probably be sipping brewed Starbucks now instead of this instant Blend-45.” I told him. “But I’m telling you, Bossing, this one is segurado. If I have to borrow money, I will, just to grab this opportunity!”
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Sensing I am about to be a scam victim, I told him matter-of-factly: “Not now, Pidol. I am drained. And your inaanak and my older daughter need big amounts for their midterm school fees.”
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“You and your dirty mind”, he said. “I don’t need another loan from you. You could help me with my las night's dream. You see, before I went to sleep last night, I prayed for a dream to give me the winning number combination for today’s jueteng. And yes, it was granted - only that the numbers were encrypted.”
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“Encrypted? How was that?” I asked, suppressing laughter and incredulity.
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Pidol continued: “You see I dreamt of aliens who looked like humans except that they have knees that bend backwards like those of chickens and they have four fingers instead of five in each hand. In my dream they were quite friendly and they lend me some kind of a headwear so that I could speak and listen in their own language and read their alphabet, as well.”
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“How wonderful and exciting...”, I yawned.
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“The interesting part is I was able to ask them the winning numbers for today!” Pidol continued.
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“And they gave you …?”. I was almost mad.
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“Yes, but only if I could figure it out. And that’s why, I come running to you.”
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I stood up, preparing to show him the door.
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“Wait, bossing. wait! He pleaded. “Can you at least give it a try? The aliens told me that If I could at least do a little arithmetic, I would have the winning numbers. They say the winning numbers are: The sum of 16 and 3; and the difference between 72 and 54.”
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“And you need a calculator for that?” I raised my voice.
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“But bossing, in their strange world,
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“It’s fate and luck. If the gods will it, it would happen. Someday the gods will show me a sign.” he maintains.
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And so, day by day, he waited and betted; and all the time looking for his long-awaited sign from heaven. He has numerical interpretations for everything, every incident, every move. The problem is, he is only able to decipher the clues and make the numbers fit his observations after the winning numbers are out. “Kam-mali manen diay kalag kon. Kusto kuma no datay pangkis nga nakalabos iti tinayaak. Datay to met anunsiyo iti asilok nga baket ti natayaak.”, he would lament.
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But one Saturday morning, he was at my door very early. He seems very excited and out of breath like he ran the half a kilometer distance between his house and mine. “You seem upbeat today, Pidol. Did you come to give me my balato?” I jestingly asked. “No, not yet bossing.” said Pidol in between his pantings. “But if you will help me, I will surely win the jackpot at noon today.” I laughed and invited him in for coffee.
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“How could I help you? If I knew how to win it, we would probably be sipping brewed Starbucks now instead of this instant Blend-45.” I told him. “But I’m telling you, Bossing, this one is segurado. If I have to borrow money, I will, just to grab this opportunity!”
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Sensing I am about to be a scam victim, I told him matter-of-factly: “Not now, Pidol. I am drained. And your inaanak and my older daughter need big amounts for their midterm school fees.”
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“You and your dirty mind”, he said. “I don’t need another loan from you. You could help me with my las night's dream. You see, before I went to sleep last night, I prayed for a dream to give me the winning number combination for today’s jueteng. And yes, it was granted - only that the numbers were encrypted.”
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“Encrypted? How was that?” I asked, suppressing laughter and incredulity.
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Pidol continued: “You see I dreamt of aliens who looked like humans except that they have knees that bend backwards like those of chickens and they have four fingers instead of five in each hand. In my dream they were quite friendly and they lend me some kind of a headwear so that I could speak and listen in their own language and read their alphabet, as well.”
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“How wonderful and exciting...”, I yawned.
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“The interesting part is I was able to ask them the winning numbers for today!” Pidol continued.
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“And they gave you …?”. I was almost mad.
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“Yes, but only if I could figure it out. And that’s why, I come running to you.”
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I stood up, preparing to show him the door.
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“Wait, bossing. wait! He pleaded. “Can you at least give it a try? The aliens told me that If I could at least do a little arithmetic, I would have the winning numbers. They say the winning numbers are: The sum of 16 and 3; and the difference between 72 and 54.”
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“And you need a calculator for that?” I raised my voice.
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“But bossing, in their strange world,
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765 + 45 = 1,032;
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and
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2 x 63 = 146 !”
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I was completely thrown off.
Can you help my friend come up with his winning combination?
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and
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2 x 63 = 146 !”
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I was completely thrown off.
Can you help my friend come up with his winning combination?
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Send in your solution together with the explanations. I promised to publish the first one that gives the correct answer and logical deducement. And 10% of the winnings my friend is gonna get, right Pidol? Good Luck, Louisians.
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-ise
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
I Learned My Lessons The Hard Way
This piece was taken from the comments portion under Childhood Memories in the Barrio. The writer did not identify himself but he's got a very compelling story to tell. It relates of the twist and turns of his college life, the obstacles and hardships, the inspirations and finally, the ultimate triumph of a successful profession. Let's read his story even as we look back at our own...
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Some of you may know the writer based on the skimpy details that he revealed. If you do, please drop me a line for his identity...
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First of all, I would like to congratulate you, sir for our very successful blogsite. You are really a one of a kind person as almost all of us are dreaming of becoming like you someday. I was very happy when I first entered the blogsite then I realized for the first time that I have learned my lessons the hard way. Then all the memories and happy moments during our college days just keep coming back. Maybe I have accidentally activated my rewind button on my mind so the memories just keep rewinding and rewinding and rewinding until I decided to pick up my pen and an A4 paper and start writing thing that maybe most of my batch mates have long forgotten.
I Learned My Lessons The Hard Way
by Anonymous
My journey to the engineering profession all started sometime in the month of May 199_ when my cousin W______ (now also an engineer from DPWH) dropped by in our house and asked me “'Insan, wala ka bang gagawin ngayon?” I answered, “Wala naman”. Then he began to encourage me to go with him to Saint Louis College because Enrollment is on going at that time. So I agreed to go with him to SLC to enroll without any idea what course we will take.
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When we arrived in the school we just followed a group of ladies (alam nyo na sir, chicks e) leading us to a room at the ground floor of the engineering building but we decided to get out because the room was very crowded. As we stepped out of the room we noticed that there are two other rooms that are accepting enrollees. The next room was quite better than the first but we decided to take a little glance at the last room.
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As we approached the last room we noticed that there were only 3 persons standing on the line, so I said “Bakit tayo magpapakahirap pumila sa kabila, e ang luwag d2”. So we handed our documents and at the time they handed us the forms that was the only time we realized that we were enrolling in the engineering department.
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I really admit that I have a very hard time during my early years but I manage to have a very strong grip and keep my head above the water level or I will surely drown. It all begun to change when I meet this girl in one of my subjects named M______ formerly my x-girlfriend (ngayon asawa ko na sir). She gave me always the extra strength to hold on until we both finished our course and passed the board exam.
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At first when I passed the board exam, I thought my sacrifices were over. But as days passed by, I came to realize that I was again starting a new chapter of my life. I even took a job as a driver because there was a problem on the construction business that time and I have three kids. I swallowed my pride to keep my head again above water level but now with loads on my back. But it didn’t last long, my luck started to change and I was employed as an engineer.
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Now that I am employed here in abroad, I am very thankful of the blessings that I received, but still I haven’t reached half of my new journey. But until now I still believe in what everybody is saying that “there will be always light at the end of the tunnel” and I am now also sure that our life is a journey not a destination.
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I wish us all the luck in this world on every ones journey.
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Dear all,
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I take pleasure in reading and publishing your articles on this blogsite. Based on the feedback I am getting, the readership is expanding each day with more and more hits and visits from SLC engineers and engineering students and their friends who are avidly following the articles and contributions from Rowell, Angelo, Carlo, Ludy, Michelle and everyone else. Everyone of us, I'm sure, have some stories to share, some jokes to crack, some puzzles to confound others with. We will appreciate it so much if you keep sending your write ups, pictures, even videos for our ever-widening circle of friends.
Many thanks.
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-ise.
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How I Become A Prince
Angelo was in second year Engineering when I left SLC and so I didnt know much about his collegiate exploits except that I remember him to be on top of the Dean's List. Later, when I went back to teach part-time, he was already a SLC Engineering instructor - young but well-respected - who not only excelled in math and Civil Engineering but also in arts, music and dancing. He was a multi-faceted whiz kid but I didnt knew he was also a superb writer - until now, that is...
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First Installment of A Three-Part Series
by Angelo C. Canedo
Welcome Abroad
01 Sept 2002 – The nine hour trip from Manila to Dammam combined with the long queue out from the immigration (obviously ‘black’ ladies first) had never been so annoying. I stepped out the sliding door which was a passage from the baggage checkout counter and fortunate to see my name visibly scribbled on a placard that covered half the face of a kabayan. I pulled my twenty kg luggage and approached him exhaustedly worrying on how to adjust in a different environment of Saudi Arabia. I consciously greeted him with a smile and he welcomed me with a handshake. “I am Ras sir” the old slow-moving fellow said “and he is Arnel” turning his face with a brief look at the other guy with him.
by Angelo C. Canedo
Welcome Abroad
01 Sept 2002 – The nine hour trip from Manila to Dammam combined with the long queue out from the immigration (obviously ‘black’ ladies first) had never been so annoying. I stepped out the sliding door which was a passage from the baggage checkout counter and fortunate to see my name visibly scribbled on a placard that covered half the face of a kabayan. I pulled my twenty kg luggage and approached him exhaustedly worrying on how to adjust in a different environment of Saudi Arabia. I consciously greeted him with a smile and he welcomed me with a handshake. “I am Ras sir” the old slow-moving fellow said “and he is Arnel” turning his face with a brief look at the other guy with him.
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During a short walk out from the passenger terminal to the parking area, my attention to various naïve people, as what I thought are in their national costumes, is diverted to the warm breeze of the humid night penetrating in my skin. I began to sweat and felt uncomfortable with my suit that kept me warmer. Inside the car, a steamed bath was the product of my swift perspiration making me severely uneasy. Ras quickly switched on the AC to the maximum, opened the window and noticeably we were relieved by the cool air mingling with the hot ones. Away from the two-hour drive to the camp, I could not fail to remember my teary-eyed wife, waving her hands with the hope of seeing each other again. As I am getting a bit sentimental, my confrontation with the long-beard Arab in green uniform who threw and scattered my belongings on the floor after scrutinizing them, is capturing my imagination.
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“First time abroad sir?” Ras asked in a husky voice. “Yes manong! It is worst than what I expected”, I replied anxiously and continued my contemplations. Ras smiled amiably as he glanced quickly at the front mirror to recognize me further. We were strangers then, Arnel was asleep and the vehicles moving in high speed kept breaking the silence. No conversations came in between until we finally reached a small town called Abqaiq.
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I descended, took my stuff out from the compartment and searched for an aisle where I can move forward through the interval separating the parked vehicles. I went a few steps after Ras, directing my way in to the camp, who was just behind Arnel enabling him to rush double pace to continue his disturbed sleep. “That is your new home sir”, Ras said pointing towards his left after throwing the car keys on the bed overlooking from the door adjacent to mine which Arnel left wide-open. Ras grasped the key from his pocket, opened the door and lit the fluorescent light for me to visibly recognize the inside where the aircon has been working overtime. I took in my first step; the floor was covered with carpet in layers. The bed to my right clothed with white mattress was so modest and tempting me to sleep off the headache. “Somebody will bring food for you, take a nap meanwhile” Ras said while closing the door gently.
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My tired eyes begun to roam around and noticed the walls and ceiling were on pale fawn color like flakes of falling debris. Later, I entered a door of less than the normal size situated behind the cupboard fronting the main entrance and took a quick bath of hot water sprinkling from the shower and drained on a commode leveled to the floor. Afterwards I laid my back over the soft single bed, set the alarm and almost got asleep when somebody knocked at the door timidly. It was midnight then, so I ignored and went fast asleep with an empty stomach.
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Time traveled like a couple of minutes. I was awakened by numerous bedbugs, crippling here and there, to listen to the loud falsettos in chorus from the mosques with unusual melodies that I could not comprehend. I glanced at my watch, it was 4 am so I immediately went back to sleep to recharge for the challenge the coming sunrise in exchange to a compensation of ‘six significant figures’ Saudi denomination (this includes the two zeros after the decimal point)…..
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to be continued...
Monday, January 12, 2009
The Sudoko Challenge
by Sonny Espejo
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Sudoku is a number arrangement game which is currently very popular here in Dubai and possibly in other places (the entire world, if I may believe the hype carried in the puzzle caption of the morning paper). Sudoku is to numbers as Crossword Puzzle is to words. The puzzle is played on a grid of nine by nine squares further grouped into 9 sub-grids of three by three squares. The object of the game is to fill-out the squares exclusively with the digits 1 to 9 so that any given digit will appear once and only once in a row, only once in a column, and only once in a 3 by 3 sub-grid. An unsolved sudoku puzzle is sprinkled with about 25 pre-filled squares of seemingly random distribution but are actually cleverly placed clues to ensure a unique solution.
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I have a haunch that number puzzles in general, and the sudoku in particular, are more popular in countries like Japan , China, and the Arabic middle-east because the written forms of their languages do not easily lend themselves to crossword arrangement.
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By the name sudoku, it is reasonable to assume that the puzzle originated in Japan. However, a quick check in wikipedia would reveal that the first puzzles were published by Dell in the US, and eventually found their way to Japan where they become very popular and given the name by which they are currently known. A google search would reveal hundreds of sites dedicated to this mind game underscoring its popularity.
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Anyway, I was introduced to sudoku by my boss (A Syrian doctor of Engineering) in my first company here in Dubai, who is an enthusiast of the game. You could tell the level of his addiction by the way he would summon me by phone to his office and, behind closed doors, would show me his latest sudoku slay. At first, I could only give him a stupefied smile and a feigned nod of appreciation while he gave me that I'm-smarter-than-you grin. A lecture on how he arrived at his elegant solution would usually follow - if I could not find my excuse to get out of his room in time. He would encourage me to take up the game as a means to fight stress and to ward off alzheimer's - plus a number of other benefits which is more than I really cared to know.
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Whenever there is an opportune time, he would call me to his desk, and over coffee, he would ask me to work out the solution with him for particularly challenging pieces. He would do that almost every afternoon for the entire eight months that we worked together although I have the funny feeling that I was the only one working while he kept busy with his game. Even at restaurant tables or park benches during company outings, we would talk about sudoku. I guess it is safe to say that our social interaction revolves only around that single subject. Of course, I have to play along with my boss and besides, I'm starting to genuinely appreciate the game myself. In fairness to him, he is very good at it, needing me only to confirm his mastery of the game. I am not bad at deductive reasoning myself but I am not so keen about spending my time at such a juvenile task.
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And soon, I just got fed up. I decided to show my computer programming side so that with one master stroke, we could set aside his puzzle book for good. I wrote a computer program for him.
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But writing such a program is easier said than done. A manually-arrived solution is a product of tedious exercise in pure deductive reasoning or by a tenacious cut-and-try approach, or a combination of both techniques. Each sudoku puzzle is unique but a human analyst could usually make out a pattern which could be taken advantage of in order to find the shortest route to the solution. Unfortunately, such nuances and subtle nudges of the puzzle, which comes very clear and useful to the puzzle enthusiast, could not be recognized by the computer. In writing a general computer program that could solve every sudoku puzzle, it is possible to use a logical deductions approach (or any of the "human-like" methods of solving sudoku) but it would mean writing an impossibly complicated maze of if-then-else conditional branches and a formidable amount of bookkeeping to keep track of all the twists and turns.
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I therefore decided against using such methods and instead planned to write a sudoku program employing a sweeping, brute-force approach. For all of sudoko's complexity, the program is rather simple and short.
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How it works
1. The program marks and "remembers" the cells containing the given clues or knowns as well as the blank cells or unknowns.
2. The unknowns are then numbered consecutively starting from the upper-left-most blank cell, proceeding to the right, and going down one row at a time. Each of the blank cell is given an initial value of zero.
3. Starting with blank cell number one, the program considers one blank cell at a time in the order by which they were numbered.
4.The current value of the blank cell under consideration is incremented by one to obtain a new trial value.
5.The trial value is checked against the existence of its duplicate along the row, along the column, and within the 3x3 sub-grid to which the blank cell belongs.
6. If a duplicate is detected, the program goes back to step 4 and will proceed to succeeding steps as usual;
7. Else, if no duplicate is found, the trial number is provisionally adopted as the current value for that blank cell and the focus of attention is shifted to the next blank cell. The program goes back to step 4 and from there, the process proceeds to the next steps as usual.
8. In the process of assuming progressively higher trial numbers on an unknown cell, all the possibilities (1 to 9) may be exhausted without satisfying the non-duplicate condition. This would only mean that a current value on a previously solved cell is inconsistent. Thus, the program will reset the current value of the blank cell under consideration to zero, will backtrack to shift its focus of consideration to the previous blank cell and will go back to perform steps Nos. 4. to 7.
9. The process is continued throughout until all the blank cells are filled out correctly without inconsistencies.
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Now, the above outlined procedure appears to be painstakingly laborious and exhaustingly repetitive. And indeed, it is a slow and plodding process - if it is to be done by hand. But computers thrive in drudgery and were devised to make mince meat of particularly boring tasks.
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Finally, I succeeded in writing a general sudoko program in one sitting using the procedure outlined above. The following day, I presented it as a gift to my boss. He loaded it on his Presario and fiddled with the program for a while, testing randomly and reveling on its speed and accuracy.
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And then in his halting Arabic accent, gave me a gentle rebuke, "This is good, Isah (which is how he calls me). I like to keep it for checking my solutions. But you don't understand. I solve the puzzles because I like confronting and conquering mental challenges. Please don't take that thrill away."
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He was right of course, and I feel like some kind of a jerk. But I recovered in time and in an apologetic way, I told him, "I'm sorry, Ahmed, but that is not my intention. Actually, I like confronting mental challenges myself. And I consider writing a general program more challenging and thrilling, in a wholesale kind of way, than filling out those squares, one cell at a time". We both laughed and I knew he understood.
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For those who are interested in sudoku and who would want to verify their solution against the computer, I could send you a compiled version for free which you could run directly on any PC. (Just e-mail me at sonny.espejo @ gmail.com).You could encode the givens from your morning paper, and then let the computer do the rest. Press the solve button and dig in for the long wait – all of seven hundred million nanoseconds on my intel centrino duo powered HP notebook. You could also use it to make and solve your own puzzles to impress unwary friends. It is so powerful that it could churn out a solution even without a single clue! Just one reminder. Don't attempt to solve a puzzle with an innate error. For example, you cannot have, for a clue, two 7's in a single row.
For those who are interested in writing their own sudoku computer program (for the hundreds of talented young programmers from SLC who are eager for a challenge), I have attached the VB text code which you could cut and paste for your reference. Comments have also been provided at each crucial point on the code to describe the functions and routines for better comprehension. I have kept features to a minimum, not wanting to dilute the essence of the game with unnecessary distractions. If you want to enhance, modify or translate the program, please feel free to do so. If possible, e-mail me a note describing the changes you made and attach a copy of your version. Better still, you can post it here. Happy computing, everyone!
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I invite and would welcome any comment or discussion, even ideas for another approach or algorithm.
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-ise
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The Sudoko Program in VB
‘******************
‘Sudoko
‘by engr. sonny espejo
‘aka icarus
‘******************
'
‘**************************************************************
'The sub-routine Cruncher is the meat of the program.
‘All the other routines are either for data entry, data display
‘or file handling. Cruncher was written based on the outlined
'procedure above
‘**************************************************************
Dim Trial(81) As Integer
Dim RowNo(81) As Integer
Dim ColNo(81) As Integer
Dim C(9, 9)
Private Sub Form_Load()
Show
Line (cell(1).Left - 60, cell(1).Top - 60)-(cell(81).Left + cell(81).Width + 50, cell(81).Top + cell(81).Height + 50), vbBlue, BF
cell(1).SetFocus
End Sub
Private Sub cell_KeyDown(Index As Integer, KeyCode As Integer, Shift As Integer)
If KeyCode = vbKeyLeft Then
Index = Index - 1
If Index < index =" 81" keycode =" vbKeyRight" index =" Index"> 81 Then Index = 1
End If
If KeyCode = vbKeyReturn Then
Index = Index + 1
If Index > 81 Then Index = 1
End If
If KeyCode = vbKeyUp Then
Index = Index - 9
If Index < index =" Index" keycode =" vbKeyDown" index =" Index"> 81 Then Index = Index - 9
End If
SelStart = Len(cell(Index).Text) + 1
cell(Index).SetFocus
End Sub
Private Sub cell_Change(Index As Integer)
If Val(cell(Index).Text) < text = ""> 9 Then
cell(Index).Text = ""
Else
cell(Index).Text = Val(cell(Index).Text)
End If
End Sub
Private Sub FileNewMenu_Click()
For i = 1 To 81
cell(i).Text = ""
Next i
End Sub
Private Sub FileOpenMenu_Click()
RetrieveData
End Sub
Private Sub FileSaveMenu_Click()
SaveData
End Sub
Private Sub FileExitMenu_Click()
End
End Sub
Private Sub HelpGettingStartedMenu_Click()
Frame1.Visible = True
End Sub
Private Sub SolveMenu_Click()
Cruncher
End Sub
Private Sub AboutHelp_Click()
Frame2.Visible = True
End Sub
Private Sub Command1_Click()
Frame1.Visible = False
End Sub
Private Sub Command2_Click()
Frame2.Visible = False
End Sub
Sub SaveData()
CommonDialog1.ShowSave
Q$ = CommonDialog1.FileTitle
Open Q$ For Output As #1
ctr = 0
For i = 1 To 9
For j = 1 To 9
ctr = ctr + 1
Write #1, cell(ctr).Text
Next j
Next i
Close #1
End Sub
Sub RetrieveData()
CommonDialog1.ShowOpen
Q$ = CommonDialog1.FileTitle
Open Q$ For Input As #1
ctr = 0
For i = 1 To 9
For j = 1 To 9
ctr = ctr + 1
Input #1, xyz
cell(ctr).Text = xyz
Next j
Next i
Close #1
End Sub
Sub Cruncher()
'transfer the cell contents to 2D array for more efficient handling
ctr = 0
For i = 1 To 9
For j = 1 To 9
ctr = ctr + 1
C(i, j) = Val(cell(ctr).Text)
Next j
Next i
'The blank cells are counted and numbered consecutively
ctr = 0
For i = 1 To 9
For j = 1 To 9
If C(i, j) = 0 Then
ctr = ctr + 1
RowNo(ctr) = i
ColNo(ctr) = j
End If
Next j
Next i
NoCell = ctr
'The trial values for the blank cells are initialized to zero
For i = 1 To NoCell
Trial(i) = 0
Next i
'Starting with the first blank cell
simula = 1
bb:
For k = simula To NoCell
aa:
'increment the current value by 1 to have new trial value
Trial(k) = Trial(k) + 1
'check row-wise for any duplicate
For j = 1 To 9
If Trial(k) = C(RowNo(k), j) Then GoTo aa
'if a duplicate is found, we go back to aa and the next higher trial value is used
Next j
'check column-wise for any duplicate
For i = 1 To 9
If Trial(k) = C(i, ColNo(k)) Then GoTo aa
'if a duplicate is found, we go back to aa and the next higher trial value is used
Next i
'check 3 x 3 sub-grid for any duplicate
ix = 3 * Int((RowNo(k) - 1) / 3) + 1
jy = 3 * Int((ColNo(k) - 1) / 3) + 1
For i = ix To ix + 2
For j = jy To jy + 2
If Trial(k) = C(i, j) Then GoTo aa
'if a duplicate is found, we go back to aa and the next higher trial value is used
Next j
Next i
'If no duplicate is detected and the trial value is within
'the range of possible values (1 to 9) then we adopt
'the trial value as a provisional value for the cell
If Trial(k) <= 9 Then C(RowNo(k), ColNo(k)) = Trial(k)
'if all possible values have been tried without success 'then something is wrong with the values adopted in the previous 'cell, so we set the value of the current cell to zero 'and go back to the previous cell.
ElseIf Trial(k) > 9 Then
Trial(k) = 0
C(RowNo(k), ColNo(k)) = 0
simula = k - 1
GoTo bb
End If
Next k
'once this stage is reached, inconsistencies would have been totally eliminated
'and we may now finalize the solution and fill-up the grid with the final values
FillUpGrid
End Sub
Sub FillUpGrid()
ctr = 0
For i = 1 To 9
For j = 1 To 9
ctr = ctr + 1
cell(ctr).Text = C(i, j)
Next j
Next i
End Sub
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Sunday, January 11, 2009
Urgent Jobs for Filipino Engineers, Anyone?
This is what our networking is supposed to be all about. As Louisians, we need to look after each one by giving warnings and advisories against pitfalls which are all too common here in Dubai but also to give out notices when opportunities for better employment comes a-knockin. A very considerate and unselfish trend has been set by our very own Engr. Rowell Olivar. I hope everyone follows after his good example. This kind of information is not only useful for us here who are in the midst of uncertainties wrought by the financial crisis but also for those who are still planning to move over from the Philippines. Thank you Rowell; and more power to you. Below is Rowell’s e-mail...
Sir,
A contractor with the Arabian Canal Project is looking for Filipino Engineers.
Land Surveyors , 5 initially, must be adept at GPS and total station
Project Planners
2 Civil Engineers
They are going to put up a branch in a Freeport zone so visa is not a problem.
Contact person is Mohammad Berjaoui, a Lebanese.
Mobile 050-818 -1059
e-mail: berjaoui@eim.ae
The name of the company is Tristar Contracting.
Applicants can tell him they got his number and address from me.
God Bless St. Louis!
Rowell P. Olivar
Land Surveyor
Master Planning and Zoning Centre of Excellence
Sama Dubai
P.O Box 72527
Building 52, 2nd Floor
Dubai Health Care City (DHCC)
Dubai, United Arab Emirates
A Thank You Letter
A few days back, Engr. Raul Nones forwarded to me an e-mail from Dr. and Mrs. Jose Amando. The contents are self-explanatory. Although not directly addressed to SLC PICE-UAE, I am reprinting the e-mail here so that everyone of us may know that we are supporting a good cause. Let us join hands in prayer and wish for the speedy and complete recovery of Ma'am Erlinda.
----- Forwarded Message ----
From: Paul Joseph Amando <pauljoseph_amando@yahoo.com.ph>
To: rubianones@yahoo.com
Sent: Monday, January 5, 2009 2:25:01 PM
Subject: thank you
January 5, 2009
We received your donation of Php 10,000 for the chemotherapy of Erlinda O. Amando. The amount will surely help in her recovery from colon cancer.
Thank you very much for your thoughtfulness and generous help. May the Good Lord reward your selfless act of charity.
Sincerely yours,
Erlinda / Jose Amando
----- Forwarded Message ----
From: Paul Joseph Amando <pauljoseph_amando@yahoo.com.ph>
To: rubianones@yahoo.com
Sent: Monday, January 5, 2009 2:25:01 PM
Subject: thank you
January 5, 2009
We received your donation of Php 10,000 for the chemotherapy of Erlinda O. Amando. The amount will surely help in her recovery from colon cancer.
Thank you very much for your thoughtfulness and generous help. May the Good Lord reward your selfless act of charity.
Sincerely yours,
Erlinda / Jose Amando
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Angelo Canedo Figures Out Manny's Age
It took a former SLC Engineering instructor to solve the second problem posed on my previous post titled An Amusing Challenge. Engr. Angelo Canedo belongs to the the cream of the crop of SLC CE batch 1996. He now works for a multinational structural steel producer based in the UAE.
How old is Manny?
I have two friends named Manny and Danny who are very conscious of their ages. They don’t only keep tract of their years, they also are aware of their age combinations and ratios along the way. You see, the combined ages of Manny and Danny is 80 years, and Manny is twice as old as Danny was when Manny was half as old as Danny will be when Danny is three times as old as Manny was when Manny was three times as old as Danny. So how old is Manny?
Angelo's Solution
Let
M be Manny’s age and D be Danny’s age
x = be the year interval from present year P to year A (see line diagram)
y = be the year interval from year A to year B (see line diagram)
z = be the year interval from year B to year C (see line diagram)
P = be the present year (see line diagram)
Equations:
combined ages of Manny and Danny is 80
M + D = 80 …………………………………. Equation 1
and Manny is twice as old as Danny was …….
M = is Manny’s present age at P
D – x = was Danny’s age x yrs ago from P to A
M = 2 ( D – x ) ……………………………… Equation 2
….. when Manny was half as old as Danny will be ……
M – x = was Manny’s age x yrs ago from P to A
D – x + y = will be Danny’s age y yrs after from A to B
M – x = ½ ( D – x + y ) ……………………… Equation 3
….. when Danny is three times as old as Manny was ……
D – x + y = is Danny’s age at B
M – x + y – z = was Manny’s age z yrs ago from B to C
D – x + y = 3 ( M – x + y – z ) ……………… Equation 4
….. when Manny was three times as old as Danny.
M – x + y – z = was Manny’s age z yrs ago from B to C
D – x + y – z = was Danny’s age z yrs ago from B to C
M – x + y – z = 3 ( D – x + y – z ) …………… Equation 5
Combining the 5 equations and solving them simultaneuosly, Manny’s age is 50.
M be Manny’s age and D be Danny’s age
x = be the year interval from present year P to year A (see line diagram)
y = be the year interval from year A to year B (see line diagram)
z = be the year interval from year B to year C (see line diagram)
P = be the present year (see line diagram)
Equations:
combined ages of Manny and Danny is 80
M + D = 80 …………………………………. Equation 1
and Manny is twice as old as Danny was …….
M = is Manny’s present age at P
D – x = was Danny’s age x yrs ago from P to A
M = 2 ( D – x ) ……………………………… Equation 2
….. when Manny was half as old as Danny will be ……
M – x = was Manny’s age x yrs ago from P to A
D – x + y = will be Danny’s age y yrs after from A to B
M – x = ½ ( D – x + y ) ……………………… Equation 3
….. when Danny is three times as old as Manny was ……
D – x + y = is Danny’s age at B
M – x + y – z = was Manny’s age z yrs ago from B to C
D – x + y = 3 ( M – x + y – z ) ……………… Equation 4
….. when Manny was three times as old as Danny.
M – x + y – z = was Manny’s age z yrs ago from B to C
D – x + y – z = was Danny’s age z yrs ago from B to C
M – x + y – z = 3 ( D – x + y – z ) …………… Equation 5
Combining the 5 equations and solving them simultaneuosly, Manny’s age is 50.
Hehehe... Ganon lang pala yon kasimple. The critical point here is to realize that the ages of Manny and Danny are being compared across four points in time. Once this fact is grasped, the puzzle unravels surprisingly easy.
Here Comes the Dean!
I always have very high regards of the visions and policies of the CICM schools which include Saint Louis College. But if there is one thing I can disagree with, it is the policy on the term limits of the deans and other administrators. Why should a highly performing, highly competent executive be replaced for reasons other than voluntary resignation or retirement? Presumably, it is to give other aspirants a chance at the top, which is good. But the downside is, you also lose a tried and tested leader and manager and have to settle for a neophyte who could turn out to be a dud. This is exactly how Engr. Carisa Blancas became SLC’s loss and University of Baguio’s gain. Ma'am Carie to every Louisian Engineer, Engr. Blancas is now the Dean of the College of Engineering and Architecture of the University of Baguio. Still, a change in her affiliation does not seem to be, to her, a change in loyalties. Thank you, madam, for remembering us and going out of your hectic schedule to address your former colleagues and students. My dear Louisian Engineers, may I have the honor to welcome the longest-serving and most accomplished CEA Dean of Saint Louis College. Take it away, madam…
HAPPY NEW YEAR TO ALL THE LOUISIANS ALL OVER THE WORLD!
HAPPY NEW YEAR TO ALL THE LOUISIANS ALL OVER THE WORLD!
.
I can't believe it! Most of the Louisians that I have mentored and worked with are now shining through in many spots of the globe!
It was when I was still at SLC when I dreamt of putting up a foundation in the future whose objective is for members to get in touch with each other for a common goal though they are distant apart. The goal would be to be one in extending gratitude to the alma mater - St Louis College of San Fernando, La Union. The extent of gratitude could be in the form of projects that would benefit the EA students like sponsoring scholarships, raising funds for the laboratory, library, etc.
CONGRATULATIONS & I SALUTE YOU, Sir Sonny for making my dream come true thru the SLC-PICE Blog that you have organized. You've started for a good cause - helping the sick people of SLC. Please continue with other projects. I was touched when one of our UB graduates who was about to move out of Baguio came over to donate a lab equipment which he acquired when he was employed. I believed any Louisian can do the same. The Philippines is now greatly affected with the world crisis and we have a good number of promising students at SLC who have the intelligence but do not have the financial capability to pursue a course.
To all the LOUISIANS out there, keep on shining! Spread the excellent training that you have undergone in your alma mater! Right now, I'm trying my BEST to help the UB students to have the same training as you did before.
Good luck to all and God bless!
It was when I was still at SLC when I dreamt of putting up a foundation in the future whose objective is for members to get in touch with each other for a common goal though they are distant apart. The goal would be to be one in extending gratitude to the alma mater - St Louis College of San Fernando, La Union. The extent of gratitude could be in the form of projects that would benefit the EA students like sponsoring scholarships, raising funds for the laboratory, library, etc.
CONGRATULATIONS & I SALUTE YOU, Sir Sonny for making my dream come true thru the SLC-PICE Blog that you have organized. You've started for a good cause - helping the sick people of SLC. Please continue with other projects. I was touched when one of our UB graduates who was about to move out of Baguio came over to donate a lab equipment which he acquired when he was employed. I believed any Louisian can do the same. The Philippines is now greatly affected with the world crisis and we have a good number of promising students at SLC who have the intelligence but do not have the financial capability to pursue a course.
To all the LOUISIANS out there, keep on shining! Spread the excellent training that you have undergone in your alma mater! Right now, I'm trying my BEST to help the UB students to have the same training as you did before.
Good luck to all and God bless!
.
.
Engr. Carisa C. Blancas
.
.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Ludy Aquino Skinned The Cat Another Way
As promised, we print below Ludy's solution to the Escalator Puzzle after he expounded on his steps and notations. No, he did not take an extended time to solve it. I am simply late in posting it because i have also a job to attend to first hehehe... Now, you can dare to compare with that of Carlo...
The Office Escalator
It’s 3 o’clock in the afternoon and everyone was in a hurry to get home. Our Managing Director was generous enough to let everyone go early for the day, giving them time to prepare for New Year’s Eve. So I hurriedly shuffled the loose pile of paper on my desk and pushed each one into the trays, shut down my laptop and shoved it into its carrying case. “Happy New Year. See you next year, everyone”, I hollered to nobody in particular as I walked to the exits. Work could wait for next year which will start next Sunday! Everyone was filing out of the office into the parking lot. I needed to go, too! I could not wait for the slow descent of the escalator so I walked down even as it descended. It took me 10 steps with my normal gait to get down from the First Floor level to the Ground Floor level. I was about to dash away to the Parking Exits when Mar, looking down from the Second Floor level called my attention. “Hey, Sonny – you dropped your wallet.” In my eagerness, I dropped my wallet at the top of the descending flight that I just traversed. Wanting to get to my wallet as quickly as possible, I forgot to use the ascending flight and instead huff-and-puff my way up the descending flight at a rate which is 5 times my pace in going down. It took me 25 steps before I got to my wallet – thank God. Now Louisian Engineers, pray tell me how many steps has our office escalator?
Ludy's Solution:
Let
W = my walking rate in going down (steps/sec)
V = rate of escalator’s descent (steps/sec)
t = time it took me to go down in seconds
u = time it took me to go up in seconds
S = the number of steps between floors
In going down, the rate of descent will be the sum of my walking rate and the escalator’s rate of descent or (W + V). The total number of steps, S will be covered in time, t and therefore:
S = (W + V) x t
On the same duration, I made 10 steps which means
W x t = 10 or my walking rate,W = 10/t
In going up, I increased my rate 5 fold to go against the downward rate of the escalator so that my net rate of ascent is (5W – V). Thus, to cover the entire flight of escalator, u seconds would be needed, therefore:
S = (5W – V) x u
On the same duration, I made 25 steps which means
5W x u = 25 or W = 5/u
Therefore: 10/t = 5/u; and further: u = t/2
Now, the number of steps between floors should be the same whether going up or going down, therefore:
(W + V) x t = (5W – V) x u
(W + V) x t = (5W – V) x t/2
Which simplifies to
W = V (walking rate is equal to the escalator’s descent rate)
which means that if I covered 10 steps in going down, the escalator also descended by the same number of steps. Together, we covered a total of 20 steps.
Therefore, there are twenty steps between the floors!
<<<<<<< >>>>>>>>
Who could question such flawless and compelling logic? There you go, my dear Louisians. We could only read and ponder in awe... hehehe. Anymore questions, class?
ise
.
The Office Escalator
It’s 3 o’clock in the afternoon and everyone was in a hurry to get home. Our Managing Director was generous enough to let everyone go early for the day, giving them time to prepare for New Year’s Eve. So I hurriedly shuffled the loose pile of paper on my desk and pushed each one into the trays, shut down my laptop and shoved it into its carrying case. “Happy New Year. See you next year, everyone”, I hollered to nobody in particular as I walked to the exits. Work could wait for next year which will start next Sunday! Everyone was filing out of the office into the parking lot. I needed to go, too! I could not wait for the slow descent of the escalator so I walked down even as it descended. It took me 10 steps with my normal gait to get down from the First Floor level to the Ground Floor level. I was about to dash away to the Parking Exits when Mar, looking down from the Second Floor level called my attention. “Hey, Sonny – you dropped your wallet.” In my eagerness, I dropped my wallet at the top of the descending flight that I just traversed. Wanting to get to my wallet as quickly as possible, I forgot to use the ascending flight and instead huff-and-puff my way up the descending flight at a rate which is 5 times my pace in going down. It took me 25 steps before I got to my wallet – thank God. Now Louisian Engineers, pray tell me how many steps has our office escalator?
Ludy's Solution:
Let
W = my walking rate in going down (steps/sec)
V = rate of escalator’s descent (steps/sec)
t = time it took me to go down in seconds
u = time it took me to go up in seconds
S = the number of steps between floors
In going down, the rate of descent will be the sum of my walking rate and the escalator’s rate of descent or (W + V). The total number of steps, S will be covered in time, t and therefore:
S = (W + V) x t
On the same duration, I made 10 steps which means
W x t = 10 or my walking rate,W = 10/t
In going up, I increased my rate 5 fold to go against the downward rate of the escalator so that my net rate of ascent is (5W – V). Thus, to cover the entire flight of escalator, u seconds would be needed, therefore:
S = (5W – V) x u
On the same duration, I made 25 steps which means
5W x u = 25 or W = 5/u
Therefore: 10/t = 5/u; and further: u = t/2
Now, the number of steps between floors should be the same whether going up or going down, therefore:
(W + V) x t = (5W – V) x u
(W + V) x t = (5W – V) x t/2
Which simplifies to
W = V (walking rate is equal to the escalator’s descent rate)
which means that if I covered 10 steps in going down, the escalator also descended by the same number of steps. Together, we covered a total of 20 steps.
Therefore, there are twenty steps between the floors!
<<<<<<< >>>>>>>>
Who could question such flawless and compelling logic? There you go, my dear Louisians. We could only read and ponder in awe... hehehe. Anymore questions, class?
ise
.
A Friday in Dubai
by Sonny Espejo
Sunday in Dubai is the start of the work week. Fridays and Saturdays are the weekend days, Friday being the holiest day in the Muslim faith. In lieu of a Sunday service, Christians attend Friday masses, which to me is just alright since I find the Sunday evening mass too much of a hassle. And so, one lazy Friday morning after the mass in Saint Mary's Church, we drove to a chic and newly opened mall in the beach district of Jumeira, all three of us Pinoy Engineers, to just walk around and have a good laidback lunch. Such a thing is a luxury in our working environs. We chose a restaurant called Chilis, not so much for the Mexican style food but for the good view that its wide glass walls offer of the front walk and the taxi stand and the fountains set on a garden further down.
Dubai has become a cosmopolitan city, and on any given day, you would encounter people of different nationalities and ethnicities mingling and interacting just like they were from the same small village called the world. They said boys will be boys and over dessert and coffee Raul, Ed and myself enjoyed taking-in the sight of lovely girls that seem to just walk around for our ogling. Blonds, brunettes, Africans, Orientals, Arabic, Latinas, Americans, Aryans, Scandinavians, Eastern Europeans, Chinese, Filipinas, Vietnamese, Australians, British – they're all here. And we were pimply college kids all over again. One banter leads to another until Ed and Raul came to a head – they could not agree on who is prettiest, Brazilians or Swedes. I am not of much help either. I admire most the angelic faces and devilish curves of Lebanese ladies but I keep that to myself.
But just to break the deadlock, I asked them, for a change, who they consider are the most unattractive. Almost without hesitation, "Indonesians!", they declared in unison and I laughed with them in total agreement. Of course, we were thinking in sync of that loud, snooty, unsightly, scowling Indonesian wife of my landlord who just that morning reproached us on the use of the garage. Yup, we unanimously agreed, Indonesians are officially the ugliest and we moved on chatting about other care-free topics, dropping that mean racist joke altogether.
After a while, a Filipino guy, apparently homesick and new in Dubai approached our table. "Kabayans!", he greeted. "I overheard you speaking in Tagalog. Kanina ko pa kayo gustong lapitan kaya lang naga-alangan ako. Akala ko kasi kanina…
… mga Indonesians kayo."
We almost died laughing and we were never more red in the face. Poetic Justice, it was; and it came way sooner than we expected.
Moral of the story: Always choose a landlord with a gorgeous wife!
Sunday in Dubai is the start of the work week. Fridays and Saturdays are the weekend days, Friday being the holiest day in the Muslim faith. In lieu of a Sunday service, Christians attend Friday masses, which to me is just alright since I find the Sunday evening mass too much of a hassle. And so, one lazy Friday morning after the mass in Saint Mary's Church, we drove to a chic and newly opened mall in the beach district of Jumeira, all three of us Pinoy Engineers, to just walk around and have a good laidback lunch. Such a thing is a luxury in our working environs. We chose a restaurant called Chilis, not so much for the Mexican style food but for the good view that its wide glass walls offer of the front walk and the taxi stand and the fountains set on a garden further down.
Dubai has become a cosmopolitan city, and on any given day, you would encounter people of different nationalities and ethnicities mingling and interacting just like they were from the same small village called the world. They said boys will be boys and over dessert and coffee Raul, Ed and myself enjoyed taking-in the sight of lovely girls that seem to just walk around for our ogling. Blonds, brunettes, Africans, Orientals, Arabic, Latinas, Americans, Aryans, Scandinavians, Eastern Europeans, Chinese, Filipinas, Vietnamese, Australians, British – they're all here. And we were pimply college kids all over again. One banter leads to another until Ed and Raul came to a head – they could not agree on who is prettiest, Brazilians or Swedes. I am not of much help either. I admire most the angelic faces and devilish curves of Lebanese ladies but I keep that to myself.
But just to break the deadlock, I asked them, for a change, who they consider are the most unattractive. Almost without hesitation, "Indonesians!", they declared in unison and I laughed with them in total agreement. Of course, we were thinking in sync of that loud, snooty, unsightly, scowling Indonesian wife of my landlord who just that morning reproached us on the use of the garage. Yup, we unanimously agreed, Indonesians are officially the ugliest and we moved on chatting about other care-free topics, dropping that mean racist joke altogether.
After a while, a Filipino guy, apparently homesick and new in Dubai approached our table. "Kabayans!", he greeted. "I overheard you speaking in Tagalog. Kanina ko pa kayo gustong lapitan kaya lang naga-alangan ako. Akala ko kasi kanina…
… mga Indonesians kayo."
We almost died laughing and we were never more red in the face. Poetic Justice, it was; and it came way sooner than we expected.
Moral of the story: Always choose a landlord with a gorgeous wife!
<<<<<<<<<< >>>>>>>>>>
Monday, January 5, 2009
Carlo Chan Solves The Escalator Puzzle
My previous post titled An Amusing Challenge has lured out some of the best minds from SLC. Engr. Carlo Chan and Engr. Ludy Aquino, both Board Placers in different years, and prides of SLC Engineering submitted their solutions minutes within each other. Two distinct approaches, one correct answer. I am publishing Carlo’s solution first after which I will append Ludy’s solution after he adds verbal explanations to his math equations so that us, lowly mortals could follow hehehe…
The Office Escalator
It’s 3 o’clock in the afternoon and everyone was in a hurry to get home. The Managing Director was generous enough to let everyone go early for the day, giving them time to prepare for New Year’s Eve. So I hurriedly shuffled the loose pile of paper on my desk and pushed each one into the trays, shut down my laptop and shoved it into its carrying case. “Happy New Year. See you next year, everyone”, I hollered to nobody in particular as I walked to the exits. Work could wait for next year which will start next Sunday! Everyone was filing out of the office into the parking lot. I needed to go, too! I could not wait for the slow descent of the escalator so I walked down even as it descended. It took me 10 steps with my normal gait to get down from the First Floor level to the Ground Floor level. I was about to dash away to the Parking Exits when Mar, looking down from the Second Floor level called my attention. “Hey, Sonny – you dropped your wallet.” In my eagerness, I dropped my wallet at the top of the descending flight that I just traversed. Wanting to get to my wallet as quickly as possible, I forgot to use the ascending flight and instead huff-and-puff my way up the descending flight at a rate which is 5 times my pace in going down. It took me 25 steps before I got to my wallet – thank God. Now Louisian Engineers, pray tell me how many steps has our office escalator?
Carlo’s Solution:
Let N = total number of steps between floors.
E = the number of steps the escalator moves down for every step that I make when
moving down
As I am going down, the moving escalator “helps” to improve my rate such that after only 10 steps, I would have reached the bottom of the escalator. This means that for every step I make, the escalator also “steps down” by E steps and thus enabling me to descend a total of 1/10 of the way or N/10, each time.
1 + E = N/10
Running up against the downward-moving escalator, I have to sprint back 5 times faster than my original speed to overcome the opposing motion of the escalator. But since I am 5 times faster than initially, the escalator could only take away E/5 number of steps for every stride of mine. After 25 steps I would have reached the top which means that for every step taken, I am able to go up a net of 1/25 of the flight or N/25:
1 – E/5 = N/25
From these two equations, one would easily find that N = 20 steps.
QED
<<<<<<<<< >>>>>>>>>>
That was elegant! How could you make it so easy, Carlo? Any questions, Class? Hehehe...
- icarus
The Office Escalator
It’s 3 o’clock in the afternoon and everyone was in a hurry to get home. The Managing Director was generous enough to let everyone go early for the day, giving them time to prepare for New Year’s Eve. So I hurriedly shuffled the loose pile of paper on my desk and pushed each one into the trays, shut down my laptop and shoved it into its carrying case. “Happy New Year. See you next year, everyone”, I hollered to nobody in particular as I walked to the exits. Work could wait for next year which will start next Sunday! Everyone was filing out of the office into the parking lot. I needed to go, too! I could not wait for the slow descent of the escalator so I walked down even as it descended. It took me 10 steps with my normal gait to get down from the First Floor level to the Ground Floor level. I was about to dash away to the Parking Exits when Mar, looking down from the Second Floor level called my attention. “Hey, Sonny – you dropped your wallet.” In my eagerness, I dropped my wallet at the top of the descending flight that I just traversed. Wanting to get to my wallet as quickly as possible, I forgot to use the ascending flight and instead huff-and-puff my way up the descending flight at a rate which is 5 times my pace in going down. It took me 25 steps before I got to my wallet – thank God. Now Louisian Engineers, pray tell me how many steps has our office escalator?
Carlo’s Solution:
Let N = total number of steps between floors.
E = the number of steps the escalator moves down for every step that I make when
moving down
As I am going down, the moving escalator “helps” to improve my rate such that after only 10 steps, I would have reached the bottom of the escalator. This means that for every step I make, the escalator also “steps down” by E steps and thus enabling me to descend a total of 1/10 of the way or N/10, each time.
1 + E = N/10
Running up against the downward-moving escalator, I have to sprint back 5 times faster than my original speed to overcome the opposing motion of the escalator. But since I am 5 times faster than initially, the escalator could only take away E/5 number of steps for every stride of mine. After 25 steps I would have reached the top which means that for every step taken, I am able to go up a net of 1/25 of the flight or N/25:
1 – E/5 = N/25
From these two equations, one would easily find that N = 20 steps.
QED
<<<<<<<<< >>>>>>>>>>
That was elegant! How could you make it so easy, Carlo? Any questions, Class? Hehehe...
- icarus
Childhood Memories in the Barrio II
Back in the early 90’s, Rowell was half of SLC’s super twins – the other half being his brother Rommel. Rowell is enrolled in the Engineering Department while his twin brother is with the Arts and Sciences Department. They were popular and conspicuous on the campus, not only because of their almost identical looks and striking symmetry but also because they were equally outstanding in their academics. I remember training a Quiz team led by Rowell for the prestigious Varsity Quiz during one College Days Celebration. They were to compete with, among other teams, an AsEd group anchored by Rommel. Yes they were Quizzers. They were also declaimers, orators and debaters. They were regular contributors/columnists to the Torch. And boy, could they write! Rommel, a man of letters by training, is expectedly good but Rowell, a man of numbers, was never left behind. How I wish all SLC Engineers could write as lucidly and as vividly as Engr. Rowell could. He would put to shame most Eng'g. instructors, including deans. hehehe. I left Saint Louis College when Rowell was in Third Year Engineering. I wonder if he had learned to write this good had I remained to affect him with my twisted English. Hehehe… Enjoy his comical adventures.
Why I Never Learned How To Swim Naked
by Rowell Olivar
Back in 197_, My brother Yit and me had a bestfriend whose name is Tambong.
He was the robust type, growing up as a grunt in their farm, while Yit and me were skinny and sickly.
Ruddy and vigorous, he was the instigator of many escapades, though we were older by a year.
Our favorite place was a small creek near our house, not so near as my father could see us learning to swim there.
Its waters were clean, and fish and crabs were abundant in its recesses. The creek was shallow. But in some places there were deep pools, especially where large bamboo clumps have grown, and overhung the water.
Tambong introduced us to the creek’s pleasures when we were 6 and he was 5. A bit sheltered, we didn’t know how to swim, and we were openmouthed at how our friend would dive and stay underwater.
How he would come up with handfuls of sand from the bottom and display them to us, like gold dust. He was Aquaman from the Superfriends.
Naturally Yit and me(my name is Kit, by the way), wanted to learn how to do what he could.
He was our idol, so to speak.
Everyday, as soon as we finish breakfast, we would sneak off to their house and ask him to go with us.
His father must have been amused by us, lost little twins. He would just tell us to be careful and let Tambong go.
And off we would go running to the creek. Stripping off our shirts, our shorts, sandals flapping, throwing them every which way, to fall shrieking into the water. Thus our mornings would be spent.
Lunchtime is a whole different matter.
Our father has definite ideas on our kind of fun- in his book swimming is illegal. His favorite tree, among the multitude in our yard, is the atis.
Many middays, my brother and me would come home with mud in our hair, and smelling like carabaos.Our dear father will be waiting for us.
He will grab us by our ears and march us to the sanctity of the atis tree.
This tree, aside from its sweet fruit, has slender and pliant branches, ideal for making whips for little boys.
We watch while father makes his selection, testing each supple branch til he finds one to his liking. He will break off this branch, about two and a half feet long, slender like a green snake.
One by one, the leaves are slowly removed, making sure the nodes by which they are attached are left intact, for maximum damage to small legs and butts. When everything is ready, he will ask who will go first.
As the elder by 30 minutes(or 15 minutes, depending on who’s talking, my anti or my grandma), I choose to go first. Father will hold me by the left hand, pull it just a bit to get a clear shot, then deliver one stinging lash to my legs or behind.
Like being bitten by hundreds of ants, I do a kind of jig, with both palms trying to rub off the pain, and wearing a comical deathmask.
Yit is next, and the ceremony is done.
Whimpering a bit, but not crying, we leave our calvary, promising not to get caught next time.
After every punishment, we used to envy Tambong, wishing Lakay Tukkol was our father.
We never saw Tambong punished for swimming in the creek, or hitching onto a jeep, or climbing the coconut trees. Often my father would go to Lakay Tukkol, asking him to punish Tambong for our antics. But he couldn’t teach the older dog what to do.
One day, the three of us went to the creek, same as before. Our clothes were scattered all around the shore, and we were playing tag. The ‘it’ boy will try his best to catch the others.
Depending on our mood, a particular body part is chosen as the target. Being naughty little boys, our favorite are the little eggs between our little legs.
Hard to believe, but though Yit was the skinnier and sicklier, he was the hardest one to catch. He does all these contortions underwater so that you would think it is easier to catch an eel.
I was the ‘it’ boy, working very hard to catch my little brother, swimming, twisting and squirming, trying to cover his peanuts.
The plonk and splash must have been going on for a bit, but I heard them as I was catching my breath.
I stopped and looked around.
Yit was still trying to get away, but Tambong was at a safe distance, and so noticed me.
Pebbles were falling all around our pool. Sometimes it would be this way, sometimes that way. They do this splash, as if a creature is trying to come out of the water, like a deep sigh.
The pool was overhung by dense shrubs on both sides, and being near midday, everything was quiet. Except for the falling pebbles, and the sighing splash as they hit the water.
In a split second, Tambong and me looked at each other, and then panicked and broke for the shore.
Yit was still starting to comprehend.
Like outraged buffaloes we waded screaming for the shore, thinking that the river ‘kumaw’ has come for us!
Never mind clothes, slippers nevermind, or my brother scrambling behind. We left everything and didn’t look back once.
We didn’t see our father laughing and rolling on the shore.
***********************************************************************
Why I Never Learned How To Swim Naked
by Rowell Olivar
Back in 197_, My brother Yit and me had a bestfriend whose name is Tambong.
He was the robust type, growing up as a grunt in their farm, while Yit and me were skinny and sickly.
Ruddy and vigorous, he was the instigator of many escapades, though we were older by a year.
Our favorite place was a small creek near our house, not so near as my father could see us learning to swim there.
Its waters were clean, and fish and crabs were abundant in its recesses. The creek was shallow. But in some places there were deep pools, especially where large bamboo clumps have grown, and overhung the water.
Tambong introduced us to the creek’s pleasures when we were 6 and he was 5. A bit sheltered, we didn’t know how to swim, and we were openmouthed at how our friend would dive and stay underwater.
How he would come up with handfuls of sand from the bottom and display them to us, like gold dust. He was Aquaman from the Superfriends.
Naturally Yit and me(my name is Kit, by the way), wanted to learn how to do what he could.
He was our idol, so to speak.
Everyday, as soon as we finish breakfast, we would sneak off to their house and ask him to go with us.
His father must have been amused by us, lost little twins. He would just tell us to be careful and let Tambong go.
And off we would go running to the creek. Stripping off our shirts, our shorts, sandals flapping, throwing them every which way, to fall shrieking into the water. Thus our mornings would be spent.
Lunchtime is a whole different matter.
Our father has definite ideas on our kind of fun- in his book swimming is illegal. His favorite tree, among the multitude in our yard, is the atis.
Many middays, my brother and me would come home with mud in our hair, and smelling like carabaos.Our dear father will be waiting for us.
He will grab us by our ears and march us to the sanctity of the atis tree.
This tree, aside from its sweet fruit, has slender and pliant branches, ideal for making whips for little boys.
We watch while father makes his selection, testing each supple branch til he finds one to his liking. He will break off this branch, about two and a half feet long, slender like a green snake.
One by one, the leaves are slowly removed, making sure the nodes by which they are attached are left intact, for maximum damage to small legs and butts. When everything is ready, he will ask who will go first.
As the elder by 30 minutes(or 15 minutes, depending on who’s talking, my anti or my grandma), I choose to go first. Father will hold me by the left hand, pull it just a bit to get a clear shot, then deliver one stinging lash to my legs or behind.
Like being bitten by hundreds of ants, I do a kind of jig, with both palms trying to rub off the pain, and wearing a comical deathmask.
Yit is next, and the ceremony is done.
Whimpering a bit, but not crying, we leave our calvary, promising not to get caught next time.
After every punishment, we used to envy Tambong, wishing Lakay Tukkol was our father.
We never saw Tambong punished for swimming in the creek, or hitching onto a jeep, or climbing the coconut trees. Often my father would go to Lakay Tukkol, asking him to punish Tambong for our antics. But he couldn’t teach the older dog what to do.
One day, the three of us went to the creek, same as before. Our clothes were scattered all around the shore, and we were playing tag. The ‘it’ boy will try his best to catch the others.
Depending on our mood, a particular body part is chosen as the target. Being naughty little boys, our favorite are the little eggs between our little legs.
Hard to believe, but though Yit was the skinnier and sicklier, he was the hardest one to catch. He does all these contortions underwater so that you would think it is easier to catch an eel.
I was the ‘it’ boy, working very hard to catch my little brother, swimming, twisting and squirming, trying to cover his peanuts.
The plonk and splash must have been going on for a bit, but I heard them as I was catching my breath.
I stopped and looked around.
Yit was still trying to get away, but Tambong was at a safe distance, and so noticed me.
Pebbles were falling all around our pool. Sometimes it would be this way, sometimes that way. They do this splash, as if a creature is trying to come out of the water, like a deep sigh.
The pool was overhung by dense shrubs on both sides, and being near midday, everything was quiet. Except for the falling pebbles, and the sighing splash as they hit the water.
In a split second, Tambong and me looked at each other, and then panicked and broke for the shore.
Yit was still starting to comprehend.
Like outraged buffaloes we waded screaming for the shore, thinking that the river ‘kumaw’ has come for us!
Never mind clothes, slippers nevermind, or my brother scrambling behind. We left everything and didn’t look back once.
We didn’t see our father laughing and rolling on the shore.
***********************************************************************
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