MVCC

This is a long post, with no pictures. But I want you to read every word of it!

It has been said that the key to success is not so much to be remarkable yourself, but rather to surround yourself with remarkable people. I am convinced that in this city of 6 million inhabitants, I could be living in the home of the most extraordinary person in the entire region. Paul Ahlstrom's the name, and venture capital is the game.

A brief description of venture capital (VC): People who want to start new companies often have incredible ideas, but lack funding to start their businesses. No one will give you a million dollar loan to start a tech company that might not even work. Venture capitalists will. They gather millions of dollars from people who want to invest in such companies, sit and listen to entrepreneurs pitch their ideas, and pick only the best of the best to fund. The entrepreneurs come in and have to convince the VC's that their idea will work and be wildly successful, and only then will the VC's bestow them with funding (like on the TV show "Shark Tank"). In exchange, the entrepreneur must give the VC's a portion ownership of the new company (let's say 25%), which means that if the company makes it big, 25% of the profits will belong to the VC's.

This process of vigilant screening and sifting through hundreds of ideas yields the freshest, most innovative new companies around, and in the US has been a key driver of the rapid economic progress we have made in the last few decades. It encourages innovation, creating new products and services that advance the quality of life, and creates employment as these new and growing companies hire on workers. In fact, companies that were started with VC funding account for 10% of the jobs in the United States last year!

Sadly, opportunities to get funding like this are really only available in highly developed countries. A Mexican with a great idea will only be able to fund his new company if he comes from a very wealthy family and can talk them into a big loan. This means slower economic growth, less innovation, and less employment.

Enter Paul Ahlstrom. Paul has been a very successful VC in Utah for the last 15 years. He had made so many home-run investments that he easily could have rode the wave and lived comfortably in Utah for the rest of his life. But Paul is not one to coast; he is a bull. He decided to start the first VC fund in Mexico. The motive? Well, he's not here in search of fortune- he already had that in Utah. Paul is here to give a hand up to the Mexican people. He found a fantastic Mexican partner, sold everything he owned in Utah and move his family to Monterrey. I wish I could paint a picture of the enormity of the task. First, convincing investors to lend you the $100 million or so to invest in a country with some amount of economic and political instability. Second, doing it half the time in another language. Third, single handedly teaching an entire community how VC works and what they need to do. The policy makers, universities, entrepreneurs, lawyers, and investors here have never done VC, and they all play a critical role.

To help unite this budding VC community and instruct them on what has to happen, Paul organized the first ever Monterrey Venture Capital Conference. Over 200 leaders in government, business, and entrepreneurship attended, and it was a smashing success. Speakers were brought in from successful VC communities in the states to speak on how they build their industries, politicians spoke on what policy change had to happen, etc. But no doubt the best moment of the conference was when mighty Paul Ahlstrom took the mic. When Paul opens his mouth, he commands attention from every person within the sound of his voice. With his fearlessness, experience, and talent, he is charging this cause forward and everyone is jumping on behind him and helping to push. There are now hordes of talented, powerful people working to make this a reality, but there is no doubt that Paul Ahlstrom is the living, burning soul behind it all.

Somehow I have had the good fortune to be one of those people. When they interviewed me in November for an internship position, I was a lowly undergrad student who didn't speak a lick of Spanish (except for the basics, such as "Help, help! My grandmother's on fire!!!"), but something worked in my favor and they let me on board. What a joy it is to be surrounded with such people! I haven't much to offer them (although Paul has taken a liking to my guitar playing, and I have found myself as dinner entertainment at parties with more bodygaurds than guests). I do not know that I will spend my career in VC, but here I am watching a master in something even more important: how to be remarkable.

Oh yeah: Paul is letting me live in his basement this summer. How do I deserve this?

And what a March it was!

Editor's note: The events of my last post were 90% true.

CULTURAL NOTES:

1. Men: When nature is calling, and you're looking for a restroom in a hurry, and you run into the public library, and you look at the floor map, and see the restroom marked "M", remember that "M" in Mexico stands for "Moheres", or "Women". I didn't recognized that, but I sure did recognize the WOMAN I saw upon entering the restroom! Men, you want "H" for "Hombres".

2. Why do your friends gather around so excitedly when they present you with your beautiful birthday cake? They're going to smash it in your face.

(How do you make the photos go in between paragraphs? Please refer to them in reverse order as they fit the story...)

Yes, I was lucky to spend this birthday traveling through the Huasteca Potosina with 26 of my dear friends from the mountaineering club, or "Trepacerros". We gathered in front of the school, with all the good vibrations that are always in the air when you load up a bus full of friends, food, and climbing gear.

Over four days, we canyoneered through the beautiful Hausteca, i.e. a real life Pandora (Avatar planet), sometimes floating, sometimes jumping, sometimes rapelling, and always having a great time. I won the make-a-pose-while-you-jump-off-a-waterfall contest.

On day 2, we were following the river through beautiful, open country, when all of a sudden the horizon disappeared and we arrived at a tremendous, towering cascade. It was the grandest fall I have ever stood atop.

My senses were simply overwhelmed on all fronts--the relentless thunder of the once tranquil waters, the mist rocketing up hundreds of feet and shooting past my chest, the thrill of standing unrestrained peering into the deep abyss. My thoughts were pure poetry as I absorbed it all, and I turned to my friend Marc, who was just approaching the edge. "Marc, isn't it incredible?!?", I remarked. He took one look and delivered his verdict: "Verga!" (translation: mother*$%@!)! During the next 2 minutes, the sight evoked from him about every Spanish cussword I know, and nothing else. I couldn't stop laughing. Mom, it was like an adult version of the story of Jake and Ann at Lake Powell.

The next morning, we awoke an hour before sunrise and trekked up the side of a mountain, and stopped for a rest beside a medium-sized mountain lake. Between my grogginess and partially-developed Spanish abilities, I had no idea what was going on, and sat disgruntled in my morning stupor. As the light gradually appeared, however, I realized that the darkness had played tricks on my sleepy eyes... we weren't at a lake at all--it was an enormous vertical cave, right there in the side of the mountain! 1,200 feet deep, do you believe that? The photos can't capture even part of the spectacle. (It's called "Sotana de las Huahuas", or swallow cave, and you can see it in Planet Earth on the cave episode.)

We waited there for about an hour, the sun still behind the mountains, when all of a sudden we heard a loud whooshing sound from the bottom of the pit. Everyone hushed and peered down. I couldn't see anything at first, but then the floor seemed to be moving... and for the next half hour we watched a seemingly endless flock of swallows ascend out of the hole, which they do every morning. This is not the lazy ascent of the falcon, however, as the swallows are to small to glide and there is no wind to prop them up. The only way to climb the 400 meters is to fly around and around to gain enough speed to get to the top! So this flock of I'm going to say at least 40,000 birds turns into a living tornado, slowly climbing higher and higher. I absolutely could not believe my eyes. This photo is taken of the laggers... at one point they were so thick you could hardly see the bottom. Click here to see a youtube video of it... but again it gives the experience no justice. To see it in person is something out of this world.

Too much swimming in chilly water and lack of sleep on the trip left me with a nasty cold, but it was worth it ten times over. My friends are so kind to take such good care of me. Andale!

P.S. LUCHA LIBRE!!!!!

It's a Party in Monterrey

Though I arrived at the Monterrey Municipal Airport with high hopes, doubts lingered in my mind, like, "Will I fit in socially? Will I be able to make friends?" I took a cab from the airport and saw the city for the first time. The driver pointed to our right, and there I saw Cerro de la Silla, the icon of Monterrey. I couldn't believe I was moving here without knowing a soul! To make matters worse, the burritos I had just eaten were causing problems in my digestive system, and I longed for a home-cooked meal. Just when I felt overwhelmed, however, the driver changed the radio station, and the Eagles song was on! Allow me to restate this fact to emphasize it's importance: the Eagles song was on.

Without thinking twice, I found myself dancing in the taxi, with my hands above my head, and all my nervousness was gone. My head was nodding, as if to say, "Yes!", my hips swaying, as if to express confidence and enjoyment. With my hands up in the air, and the music filling the air, I realized that everything would be alright--it's a party in Monterrey.

A few days later, I arrived at a party with hundreds of local students. I had previously been unaware of the cultural norms in Mexico, and arrived in casual clothing unfit for a party of this nature. As I entered the room and saw everyone in their fine outfits, I could feel everyone noting my interesting style, and concluding that I was indeed foreign to the area. I attempted to meet some other students, but this proved to be more difficult without the support my "homies" have provided for me in social settings previously. This was no Provo party--all I could see were strange drinks and styles. Feeling out of place, I was about to return to my residence when I heard a familiar sound--the Bon Jovi song was on! The familiarity of the music unified me with those around me. The Bon Jovi song was on!

Again, I found myself lost in the moment; my hands high above my head, shouting and singing with my classmates, my troubles fleeing into the night. My head was nodding, as if to say, "Yes!", my hips swaying, as if to express confidence and enjoyment. With my hands up in the air, and the music filling the air, I realized that everything would be alright--it's a party in Monterrey.

Monterrey

Though I'm having one heck of a time down here, the sight of Utah's canyons just calls to my soul. I've got wanderin' bones, but there's no doubt that the West is my home. I just feel right where I belong in that gritty red rock and feelin' that dry Utah breeze. And while I adorn my Ipod with all breeds of music, the refrains of the old west sing to me like nothing else. When I hear Gordon Lightfoot or the Sons of the San Juaquin, I feel like I just came in from playing in the snow and can smell mama's vegetable stew.

Well, Utah aside, what a time it's been down here! In Monterrey, I:

• am teaching free english and guitar lessons
• have become a regular member of the hiking club
• play basketball in the park by my apartment
• only study the day before tests

And the best is yet to come, that's for sure. Learning a language is challenging, but there's no feeling like hearing yourself rattle off your thoughts in a strange tounge. I love it. At this point (March '10) I can converse very well one on one, but I don't usually catch a lot of what locals say to eachother. But that's normal. Oh man I love it.

Starting a social life from scratch in a new culture sure has its ups and downs (as life anywhere does). To get yourself into the culture you have to be persistantly extroverted, or you end up living in the country without being noticed. It can make you feel so awkward and out of place, and want nothing more than to go back to where you are understood and known and loved. But more than that, it brings blossoming friendships, engaging converstations, and the discovery of a new world. You have those moments when all the hard work pays off, like when you're in deep in conversation with Mariana Fernandez over candlelight at a salsa club, in pure beautiful Spanish. Wahoo!!

Last night I was teaching my good friend Erika some guitar in a park by a river. It had just rained, the moon was rising, and we were all alone on a bench on the pier. The songs of Alanis Morisette filled the air, and we were having a grand old time, when all of a sudden, the music was interuppted by a thundering chant from the river: "BE-SO! BE-SO! BE-SO! BE-SO!" I turned to see about 30 middle-aged men putting by in a boat, pounding their fists on the aluminum and chanting at us. You see, "beso" means "kiss her!" The crowd erupted as I laid a fat one on her rosy Mexican cheek. Oh, Mexico! I fit right in here.

On blogging

In the name of personal expression, entertainment, and just keeping in touch, I, James Alexander de los Santos Rodriguez Marshall, am proud to present my first-ever blog, Musings of a Mexican Bluebird. I pledge my best efforts to make it worth your time.