Expectation vs. reality of ordering French toast from the menu in the hostel lobby for 10 bucks a night


Expectation vs. reality of ordering French toast from the menu in the hostel lobby for 10 bucks a night


— Maybe not NATO, Shurik? I won’t do it anymore!
— NATO, Fetya, NATO


Our half of the planet is primarily Spanish-speaking. 455 million (that’s 91% of all Spanish speakers) compared to 280 million English speakers. In other words, we, with our English, are in the minority here. Hence, it’s no surprise that during all my trips to Mexico and Colombia, my English was of no use to anyone. Even Portuguese is spoken almost as much as English, but Spanish leads the way.
Overall, I’m struggling here without Spanish. Nobody understands me. I have to explain complex concepts like “do you accept cards or only cash” or “how can I get to the library” using hand gestures.
It’s silly to wonder why they don’t teach English properly here. Probably, from their standpoint, we should be the ones learning Spanish, considering they outnumber us twofold, and Spanish is spoken in 19 countries, whereas English, or its variants, just in 13 (among them Jamaica and Trinidad and Tobago).
Interestingly, in Canada French is an official language, yet it’s spoken throughout Americas as much as the Quechua language.
But the funniest thing is that the name of the city I’m currently in, Guadalajara, came from the Arabic Wādī al-Ḥijāra, which means “Valley of Stones” or “River flowing through stones.”
Unexpected Polish Akunin in Mexico

Something from IKEA

Broccoli, delivery

I constantly have to spell out my last name, and they keep making mistakes anyway.
With the help of ChatGPT, I found some nice alternatives for “alpha lima indiana echo victory”:
For the surname Aliyev:
1. Alex Learns Interesting English Vocabulary
2. Anna Lives In Eastern Village
3. Angry Lizards Invent Evil Vacuums
4. “Alligators Lick Ice-cream, Expect Violence.”
5. “Apes Lose Internet Every Vacation.
6. “Aunt Lucy Insults Every Viking.
7. “Ants Love Investigating Empty Vans.
8. “Astronauts Land Inside Enormous Vegetables.
For the name Rauf:
1. “Rabbits Always Use Forks.”
2. “Robots Are Usually Funny.
3. “Raccoons Ate Uncle’s Fish.
4. “Reindeer Avoid Ugly Frogs.
5. “Rick Always Underestimates Ferrets.
6. “Rats Argue Under Furniture.
7. “Rhinos Always Use Facebook.
8. “Robots Attack Ugly Farmers.
9. “Raccoons Ate Uncle’s Fries.
10. “Rats Admire Useless Fences.
11. “Rick Accidentally Unplugs Fridge.
12. “Rabbits Annoy Unlucky Fishermen.
What’s the coolest? What should I remember?
How is it going for you?
It seems like financial companies are competing to see which one can “reinvent the wheel” first and in the most unconventional way. I needed to change something in my Fidelity account, where I handle my pension contributions. I log in, but the 2FA fails because, for some reason, they have my number incorrectly listed, so I can’t receive the SMS to log in. Okay, these things happen. But then they ask me to enter a code that the operator will give me if I call phone number XXX. So I call.
To get to this operator, you need to enter your SSN using the phone keypad, which is a bit of a stretch, but still normal. Usually, they just ask for the last four digits. But that’s not enough. Their robot asks me to enter my password! From the phone keypad! The very one I use on the web. How do I do that — literally pressing the keys ABC, DEF, etc. And my password is long, I at least need to see it in front of me. Okay, I managed to find it (meanwhile the robot tries to hang up because it thinks I’ve frozen). I laboriously entered the password. Clearly, things like case sensitivity aren’t considered, and luckily, my password doesn’t contain special characters that aren’t on a phone keypad — I can’t even imagine how I’d enter them.
It doesn’t go through! Damn, I have to repeat it. Last attempt, it says. Enter it again. I entered it a second time, this time correctly. The robot thanked me and said they are currently off, so goodbye.
In another service, UBS, I’m constantly asked to change not just the password, but also the username. In a third service, you can’t recover a password, you can only call to reset it, and they send the temporary password in plain text via email, and it’s not temporary at all.
I wrote an article on Hybrismart on the topic “Customer-specific pricing”. How to create a good solution when your price calculation is in ERP, but you need to somehow show the actual price in the catalogue that takes into account their group or whatever else.
It’s quite in demand. There’s no adequate solution on the market, you have to do everything yourself, since client requirements vary. But it seems I managed to make it more or less universal. Sharing the details.
Despite the name block containing Hybris, the article is applicable to any online store or B2B system.
https://hybrismart.com/2025/02/23/customer-specific-pricing-and-availability-in-b2b-e-commerce/
Customer-Specific Pricing and Availability in B2B E-Commerce
Somehow I managed to miss this back in the day, but it turned out that the European paper sizes A0, A1, A2, A3, A4, … are not just arbitrary. Let’s start with the fact that A0 has an area of exactly 1 square meter. Well, with a slight error margin to avoid dealing with fractional millimeters. And the aspect ratio — 1:√2 is the only possible one that maintains itself when the paper is divided in half. Thus, there is a rationale behind paper formats in Europe.
But with our paper formats, there seems to be no sense. What we have are letter, legal, tabloid, all with different proportions, and the origin of the format goes back to tradition and is not well known.
I decided to dig into the topic and found a claim that “dimension originates from the days of manual papermaking and that the 11-inch length of the page is about a quarter of ‘the average maximum stretch of an experienced vatman’s arms’. However, the claim does not explain the proportions, but then there is the word vatman, which reminds one of Whatman sheets, remember those? But no, a vatman is a specialist who scooped up the liquid paper pulp from a vat using a mold (sieve) and formed the sheet. And the Whatman sheet comes from James Whatman, an English paper manufacturer of the 18th century, which was simplified to ‘vatman’. Interestingly, the term ‘vatman’ seems to exist only in Russian, derived from Whatman’s surname and his paper, Whatman paper.
And why do we call the formats in the U.S. legal and letter? This is quite interesting as well.
Interestingly, in the U.S., there were two different “standard” sizes initially: 8″ x 10.5″ and 8.5″ x 11″. Different committees independently adopted different standards: 8″ x 10.5″ for the government, and 8.5″ x 11″ for everyone else. When the committees discovered a few years later that they had different standards, they agreed to “disagree until the early 1980s when Reagan finally declared 8.5″ x 11” the officially approved standard size for paper.
The matter began in 1921, when the first Director of the Bureau of the Budget, with the President’s approval, formed an inter-agency advisory group called the “Permanent Conference on Printing,” which approved 8″ x 10½” as the standard format for government agency forms. This continued a practice established earlier by former President Hoover (who was then serving as Secretary of Commerce), defining 8″ x 10½” as the standard format for his department’s forms.
In the same year, the Committee on the Simplification of Paper Sizes, comprising representatives from the printing industry, was appointed to work with the Bureau of Standards as part of Hoover’s program to eliminate waste in industry. This committee defined basic sizes for different types of printed and writing paper. The “writing” size was set as a sheet of 17″ x 22″, while the “legal” size was 17″ x 28″. The now well-known Letter format emerged as a result of dividing these sheets in half (8½” x 11″ and 8½” x 14″).
Even when choosing 8½” x 11″, there wasn’t a special analysis conducted to verify that this size was optimal for commercial forms. The committee that developed these formats aimed solely to “reduce leftovers and waste during the trimming of sheets by reducing the range of paper sizes.”
Moreover, the legal size is still in full use as its name suggests, especially among lawyers, and folders and desk drawers are made to fit its size.
But if you look at a pack of paper in the U.S., you will see “20lb” on the pack. Actually, 20lb is the weight of a small dog, but it is also written that there are 500 pages. “Amazon Basics Multipurpose Copy Printer Paper, 20 Pound, White, 96 Brightness, 8.5 x 11 Inch, 1 Ream, 500 Sheets Total”
In the U.S., the “weight category” of paper indicates the total weight of one ream (500 sheets) of paper in its uncut (original) format. For office paper of the Bond class (often sold in Letter format), the base size is considered to be 17 x 22 inches. For example, a “20-pound” label means that 500 sheets of exactly 17 x 22 weigh 20 pounds. But if we take a pack of Letter format (8.5 x 11), which results from cutting 17 x 22 into four parts, its weight will be about 5 pounds.
In Europe, the weight category essentially refers to the weight of an A0 sheet in grams.
So, if you fold A0 in half, you get A1 with half a square meter area, if you fold A1, you get A2. That’s clear. But how many times can you actually fold a sheet of paper?
The maximum number of times a non-compressible material can be folded has been calculated. With each fold, a part of the paper “loses” for the next potential fold. The function of folding paper in half in one direction is:
L=πt/6(2ⁿ+4)(2ⁿ-1)
where L is the minimum paper length (or other material),
t is the thickness of the material,
n is the number of possible folds.
The length L and thickness t must be expressed in the same units.
The thickness W is calculated as πt2^(3(n-1)/2).
This formula was derived by Britney Gallivan, a high school student from California, in December 2001. In January 2002, she and her helpers spent eight hours folding a roll of toilet paper about 4000 feet long (approximately 1200 meters) twelve times in the same direction, thus debunking the old myth that paper cannot be folded more than eight times.
Sources mention that she started in school with gold foil (I wrote about such foil recently), and, starting with a square sheet the size of a hand, after many hours of perseverance and practice, using rulers, soft brushes, and tweezers, she managed to fold her gold foil twelve times. But apparently, that wasn’t spectacular enough, and she found toilet paper over a kilometer long somewhere in 2002 and made a show for the Guinness record.
Britney didn’t stop there and wrote a book. Though it was only 48 pages. How about that, Britney?
