On soundproofing

Most people will find this post boring, but I assume it will come up when someone googles "how can i build a sound proof closet in my room."

My friend Adam is building a sound proof closet in his room, and I've been his assistant.  He is a musician and composer, and he wants a place where he can record his music.  So, his idea was to build a little booth in his bedroom and do his recording there.

I don't know if that sounds simple or not, but it isn't.  Building a small space for audio recording requires a lot of specialized techniques and materials if you want the quality of the recorded sound to be pure.  He couldn't record just in his bedroom because of all the ambient noise.  We don't notice these things every day, but the fan on a computer, the light hum of a lamp, noise from outside that carries through the window, and more all interfere with the quality of a recording.

There's no buildasoundproofclosetinmyroom.com, so Adam had to do a lot of research.  Turns out that there's a lot of disparate sites on the web with videos and instructions for soundproofing.  Adam got a sense of how big he wanted the booth to be (large enough to record someone playing a cello) and designed from there.  The wills are about 12 inches thick when you consider the insulation and coverings on the wall, so the booth takes up a lot of space in the room for just a little space inside the booth itself.

Soundproofing is a two-part process: elimination and absorption.  In constructing the booth, we used special caulk, thicker drywall, specific insulation and carpet to keep all the sound that exists outside the booth outside.

By making the booth so airtight so that vibrations can't get in or out, it also keeps air out.  To ensure no cellists suffocate, Adam also built a large ventilation system.  The box with two fans is about 4'x6'x1', with the fans and ventilation holes all askew so that sound doesn't travel through them.  It's also insulated itself with insulated ductwork.

The drywall is attached to the inside of the booth not to studs, but to "resilient channel," which is in turn attached to the studs behind the wall.  This means that any vibrations that come from the sound in the booth with hit the drywall, and then the vibrations are absorbed by metal channel and not transferred to the studs, which are connected to outside walls.  The walls and ceiling are build so soundproof that the weakest point in the booth is the "soundproof" door.

So, that's what I've learned about soundproofing.  I've also learned that when I type soundproofing, I usually type soundproffing and then have to go back and correct it.  That's happened many times in this muse.

Final thoughts on Japan, and whining about jet lag

I'm back from Japan as of yesterday morning.  I learned some interesting things:

• When rounding third, the coach waves the runner home with a counter-clockwise motion.  Isn't that weird?  That's almost like having toilets flush the other way in the southern hemisphere.
• Baseball fans in Japan are like soccer fans in their rowdiness and energy, but baseball games are just like baseball games in their leisurely pace and thrilling moments.
• You can buy training chopsticks, with little finger hods so that kids get a sense of how to hold them right as they learn to eat.  That makes so much sense, but I proudly learned without them.
• Japanese wear medical masks when they are out in public with a cold.  The cities, and especially the trains, are do densely populated that germs would travel very easily.
• Bullet trains are so smooth that you can't tell how fast you're going.  But when a train passes you going the other direction, you know that you're both cooking with gas.
• You don't tip your waiter in Japan, so restaurants aren't as expensive as they seem, since you're saving like 20 percent on gratuity.  But without the gratuity, the waiters don't have as much incentive for quality service, so your water glass (which is super small to begin with) is always empty.
• Somehow, the rice in Japan is way better than the rice here.
• Jet lag sucks.
• LAX also sucks, and 12-hour layovers suck that much more when you're in such a lousy airport.
• I am so glad that T-Mobile has free tethering so I could spend a lot of those twelve hours on Hulu.
• New Girl isn't worth watching, but Prime Suspect is.
• When a cute girls picks you up from the airport, she looks even cuter than normal.
• Ambien works great.
• Bidet jokes are funny in any language.
• The worst food in Japan is at Disneyland.
• Sean Thomas is a patient and wonderful man.
• It is hard to flirt with girls when you don't speak the same language.
• My parents are well-loved and well worth loving.

Tokyo Disney Resort

I spent the last two days at Tokyo Disneyland and Tokyo Disneysea.  Both parks have all the features everyone loves about Disneyland--they're clean, have great rides, lots of other things to do, and that happy feeling you can only get from, well, the Happiest Place on Earth.

It was also nicely decked out for Halloween.

But the food wasn't that good.  (They call this pancake a waffle, and give you like a teaspoon of syrup.)

And there must be either regulations or Japanese preferences keeping them so, because all the fast and exciting rides are slower and less exciting than their counterparts in the states.  The drops are shorter, the coasters are slower, and the water is drier.  (They have to spray water on you at Splash Mountain to get you wet, because you don't make much of a Splash.)

Disneysea is way better than Disneyland in Tokyo.  The buildings, the rides, the atmosphere, are all just a step above.

Maybe because it's newer?  The rides are better, too.  The Journey to the Center of the Earth was, in fact, a great ride--my favorite of the park.  (Perhaps that's because I don't have anything to compare it to, and Tower of Terror and Indiana Jones suffer her when comparing to Anaheim.)  On the other hand, as a single rider I didn't have to wait at all for the Indiana Jones ride.  I got to blow right by the FastPass people and ride it lots in no time at all.

Want to know what really sucks at Tokyo Disney. It costs like three bucks to ride the monorail between the two parks.

Japan, part 2--Baseball

When traveling abroad I always wonder if I should try new and unique things to the culture, or try food and activities that exist in the U.S. also so I can see the differences with a frame of reference.  On this trip, I’ve tried to do both.

Japanese food in Japan isn’t like Japanese food in the states.  Well, maybe sushi isn’t too different, but I don’t eat sushi anyway.  Mom and Dad live in the area of Tokyo called “Embassy Row” because there are like a dozen embassies right near their apartment and about 50 within a mile.  So there are all kinds of restaurants.  There’s a burger place next door, where I had a Brown Sugar Bacon Burger that was fantastic.  Today we went to an Indian place down the street where I had the best Indian food I’ve ever tasted.

Tonight I went to the Tokyo Dome to see a Yomiuri Giants game.  I have a lot of reference points to what baseball is like in the states.  Here the game was the same, but the fans were totally different.

The game was fantastic.  It was a pitchers’ duel, with both teams throwing strikes, playing solid defense, and giving up few hits.  The Tigers’ pitcher was perfect through four until he gave up a solo homer in the 5^th.  The Tigers tied it in the sixth and it stayed that way into extra innings.  There were no errors, only one walk, and nine hits total through nine innings.

The Giants’ pitcher, Utsumi, pitched into the tenth, and the Tigers’ may have also, but they took him out in the top of the tenth for a pinch-hitter.  So, two nine-inning one-run performances, and the starter for the Giants got the win when a pinch-hitter knocked a three-run homer in the 10^th to win it.  It was awesome, and you know how it is at baseball games when you’re just so happy when great stuff happens that you’re friends with everyone, even those behind you who don’t speak the same language.  High fives all around!

The crowd, though, was like no American sports crowd, except for the Hispanic section at soccer games.  The outfield seats were split into two sections, with all the Giants’ fans in right field and all the Tigers’ in left.  The rest of the stadium was mostly Giants’ fans, but the outfield was 50-50, color-coded, and totally coordinated.  Each section had a fan with a drum and a trumpet, and they played beats and tunes for every batter.  And when the Giants were up, the whole rest of the stadium seemed to know all the chants and songs.  So, during every at-bat, the fans are just singing and chanting the batters’ names with different tunes and rhythms.  I couldn’t understand a thing except for the names—and the passion, and of course the thrill when that homer jumped off the pinch-hitter’s bat to win the game.

And to keep the switch-hitting approach to my vacation, tomorrow I’m heading to Disneyland to see how that compares with Anaheim.

Japan, part 1

My dad went on a mission to Japan when he was 19.  He and my mother lived there for two years before I was born, and my older sister was born here.  My folks are now on their second two-year mission.  I grew up eating Japanese food, learning Japanese children’s songs, and living and eating with Japanese students my father would bring home from his language school for Japanese people.  I thought I knew something about the Japanese language and culture.  The little I’ve learned here has shown me I knew next to nothing at all.

Take food.  I have yet to see chicken teriyaki on any menu in any restaurant where we’ve been.  Instead, Dad and I go to a restaurant and end up with whole fish for me and raw egg on top of raw salmon and rice for him.  With green onions.  Even Dad said, “Well, this isn’t what I expected.”  At the hotel where we stayed in Hiroshima there was a breakfast buffet.  “Ah,” thought I, “pancakes and waffles.”  But I actually wondered, what do Japanese have for breakfast?  It can’t be rice and tofu, can it?  Yup.  Boiled tofu and rice gruel were two big items.  They also had bacon—warmed bacon.  They don’t cook it, they just get it warm and then eat it all soggy and fatty.

And what about after you eat?  Don’t eat too much, or you’ll end up facing this:

That’s not a urinal.  It’s for number two, and since I only poop flowers in Moab, I wasn’t about to give this a try.  What are you supposed to do with your shorts?  How would you balance squatting over this thing and keep your underwear clean?  Is this why the Japanese live so long and are so thin?  Because even when they drop a deuce they can “feel tha burn!”  (In the thighs, I mean.)  How are you supposed to play Words With Friends with this as your bm option?  And even worse, the restroom sinks have only cold water, no soap, and no paper towels. There’s no way you’re staying that clean hunkering down over this monstrosity.  The lesson: bring plenty of Imodium AD or wait until you get to your hotel or apartment.

Because the toilets in homes and hotels are glorious.  Heated seats that automatically rise when you walk in.  Bidets that help you stay nice and clean.  Here’s the bidet controller at my parents’ apartment:

As you can see, the bidet has three settings.  The first will gently clean your toosh with a light stream of warm water.  The second uses a bit more water pressure and is for more stubborn remnants—the kind that might later become skid marks if you took it too easy.  And the third setting launches you off the toilet and lets you ride the wave.  The fire department will be angry with you if you use it too often, because it reduces the water pressure system wide and makes local fire hydrants ineffective. I’ve not tried that setting because the ceilings are low here, so I have no information on how you land, or why the walls are yellow with brown spots.

Besides the entire digestive and excretive process, Japan has more very interesting history.  For example, they have blue-skinned dragon warriors:

Who must hit massive home runs in these batting cages:

Compared to the Samurai Blue Man Group, regular people are just nothing, so the deer just let you walk right up and pet them.

Japan has been around for a long time, too.  I visited a shrine that was originally built in the sixth century.  It’s on an island off Hiroshima’s coastline, and I took a shuttle boat down there, where we passed these, which must be the remnants of a long-ago statue of a giant with very skinny legs and funny ankle jewelry that acted as a warning to invaders to stay out of Japan, like that four-toed foot in Lost.

The language hasn’t been as tough as I thought, but that’s just because they print most things in English, too.  Happily all subway instructions are given in both languages, so it’s pretty easy to find my way around.  But it started out as a real barrier when I went to the home of one of my dad’s former students and met his adorable and sociable seven-year-old grandson, Koki.

Now, Koki speaks a little English.  He said, “Hello” when we met, and he later learned to say, “Rincun,” as my name.  (Seriously, I’m not trying to be funny.  They have no letter ‘L’ in Japanese.)  He just would go up and talk to anybody, and he walked right on up and started talking to me.  “It’s all clicks and buzzes from here, Junior,” I said.  He looked at me and rambled on a bit more, in what I'm pretty sure translated as, "It's all clicks and buzzes from here, werido."  So, he ran off and came back with the Japanese word I know better than any other.

“Nintendo.”  We soon discovered that we both knew two important Italian words, too: “Mario” and “Luigi.”  It was our first bit of common ground.  We built on that ground later in the car on our way to Hiroshima I taught him two great words in English, “Angry” and “Birds.” We parted as friends who had given each other numerous high-fives as ugly pigs were destroyed with exploding eggs.

That kind of instant camaraderie and understanding really makes you think, “Are our differences really that big?”  Why all this senseless violence and war in the world, when we ought to be able to get together with our Nintendo DS and our iPad, and let the programmers bring us together for only 99 cents, or $1.99 in HD.  Would that be too much to pay for world peace?

Hiking in Moab

I was talking to Glenna Gallo the other day who said she wanted to take some of her staff down to see Moab Charter School. She thought they'd just love this little school that could, that operates in an old house and two old trailers just south of "downtown" Moab.

I love the school's board and staff, and their whole can-do attitude. They've overcome tremendous challenges. They're small, rural, and awesome. Their dress code is shorts and sandals for board meeting. They are growing, from 36 students a few years ago to almost triple that next year. They care so deeply about their community, their students, and their school.

So, that's probably the best part about Moab Charter. But second best is that when I come down every few months, I get to go on hikes like this.

Negro Bill Canyon (I know!--at least it's better than its original name a hundred years ago, which is even less politically correct) is like the perfect hike. It's the right distance, it's mostly flat, the whole of the hike is by a babbling brook, and it's gorgeous.

When you enter the canyon, you can immediately hear the perpetually running stream.

You'll cross this stream seven times on little rock-step bridges on your way to the end of the canyon, where you'll see Morning Glory Arch, one of the largest natural rock bridges in the country.

This picture is of my skinny white legs and my new hiking sandals. Good for stream crossings. Yes, I know, taking new shoes out on a five mile hike isn't the best thing, and I have a sore left big toe and sore right pinky toe because of it. But, they're really quite comfortable.

My favorite feature of the hike is the contrast in colors and textures. The hike at the begging and for a few other legs in is on mostly sand, not too deep, but it's almost like walking on a beach. Other times you're on packed dirt, and still others you're climbing rock staircases and across large plateaus of windswept stone walkways. Nature is quite the architect.

Many times during the hike I was struck by the beauty of the green trees on the canyon floor with the high red rock walls on either side, and the bright blue sky above it all. My camera phone doesn't do it justice. But check out the image of the rocks reflecting in the stream.

The stream of course sounds awesome, like water running over rocks always does. It raises an interesting point. Do you hike for two hours listening to nature, or is it okay if you bring and listen to your iPod? I listened to my iPod, Protect and Defend by Vince Flynn. So, I got to hear Mitch Rapp kill terrorists, but also the peaceful tranquility of nature's symphony. Contrast, you know.

There are also creatures. Mostly bugs, but also lizards.

I also saw a few little micey squirrels. Those things were fast, and I had trouble getting my camera out to get a picture. Eventually one was hanging out, washing his face on the red rocks, unaware of me or the predator approaching. I shot this great video.

Later as I was hiking, I heard that lion singing. I couldn't quite make it out, but it sounded like he was telling me to "Be Prepared."

"No problem Mr. Skinny Lion with the funny eye. I'm a former boy scout! That's my motto. I have a liter of water per hour and a first aid kit! Thanks for the reminder, though!"

As you approach the end of the hike you climb a rock stairway and can see the arch from the distance. As you get closer you can hear the stream again as you approach its source. Under the arch, the water has sliced away a thin opening in the mountain like a table saw. A small but loud trickle of water runs down this thin and

perfectly straight crack until it forms the stream that you've been following for more than two miles. It's my favorite part of the hike, but watch out for the poison ivy.

On the way back, you see this mountain staring at you.

"That reminds me," you think. "I could save a lot of money by switching to Geico." Then you start to sing, "I always feel like, somebody's watchin' me." It's eerie, especially for the people around you.

You're halfway back now, and the audio book is getting pretty exciting, but now you're thinking of all the clever ways you'll write about this on your blog, and how you'll post a clip from The Lion King (because it will be so funny when you make the be prepared joke!) and you're not really paying attention, and you have to go back and listen to that chapter again when you get in the car. And you think the real test is if Ken Craig thinks it's funny, because if he does, you've got it made.

Then you can go eat at one of the many exciting restaurants in Moab. You probably eat too much and you have to go number two when you get back to the hotel. But, when you're done, flowers came out.

Moab is a magical place.