2026-09-14 02:41:13
Best food I’ve ever eaten: When in Finland go to liemi.fi/ and order SHANGHAI TACOS WITH HALLOUMI. I had them every day for four days.
2026-09-03 08:00:00
I just spent many days in a hospital in India.
It was fascinating for five reasons:
I like preventative health checkups, often called “executive health screening”, where they run every test and inspect every part of you. Hearing, vision, heart, blood, bones, lungs, skin, stomach, etc. EKGs on the treadmill, ultrasound inspecting your organs, X-rays, MRIs, whatever. They run you through all these tests in six hours, then specialists analyze the results.
15 years ago I did one in Bangkok for $500, but now that same package at the same hospital costs $1500. A similar one in Singapore was around $2000. Cleveland Clinic in Abu Dhabi, two years ago, was $5000. Last month in Bangalore? $80.
I needed neurosurgery to remove a schwannoma from behind my knee. It would cost $14,000 at home in New Zealand, but only $2000 at a top hospital in India.
Medications that cost $50 in New Zealand or $100 in America are only $2 in India. After my surgery, they prescribed a bunch of stuff to keep the pain and infection away. Fulfilled at a local pharmacy, everything all combined cost about $8.
Need a private consultation with a specialist - like a neurosurgeon or dermatologist or cardiologist? $10. You just tap an appointment in their app, pay instantly with your phone, and that’s it. Which leads to the next point.
In New Zealand, my regular GP’s next availability is in six weeks, and to see a specialist takes three to six months.
At the Indian hospital, when I tried to book an appointment in advance, they were confused. “Just come in”, they said. I tried to explain that I’m coming from abroad for this major surgery and can’t stay for long, but their answer was the same. “Just come in.” So I flew there with no appointment.
The top specialists - some of the best in the world - are available within hours. I showed up at 7am and made appointments to see four specialists at 8, 9, 10, and 11.
Sometimes when meeting with one, like a spinal specialist, he’d refer me to another, like an oncologist, and I’d see him within 30 minutes.
One says I need an MRI, so within a couple hours I’m getting my MRI, then back the next morning for the specialist to review the results.
For this neurosurgery, I was kind of scared, wanting to make sure I picked the best surgeon. Assuming they’ve all had the best education and are working with the best equipment and facilities, how can I know who’s best?
I learned that what you want to see is volume. Who’s recently performed this procedure the most? And where you find those surgeons? At the busiest hospital!
We’re used to using price as an indicator of quality, so our instinct says that the $20,000 surgery in Switzerland is better than the $2000 surgery in India, but the rule of volume disagrees. Pick a popular hospital in a major Indian city, and you’ll be in the best hands.
After much research I chose Sakra World Hospital, but ended up at Manipal Hospital. Why?
I love watching how they drive in India. It’s not orderly. But neither is water flowing in a stream. It flows around obstacles. Everything is opportunistic, selfishly taking the effective path, exploiting available gaps. It’s natural.
I made my appointments and showed up first thing in the morning at Sakra World Hospital for my full day of tests. But they said, “Our systems are down today. Come back another day.” So I took a taxi to nearby Manipal Hospital and did everything there instead. I never went back to Sakra.
When I arrived at Manipal, the coordinator said I can’t do it today. But then a different coordinator called my name, and I did everything that day, no problem.
Later that week, the surgeon scheduled my surgery for 6am. “6am? Wow!” “Yes. 6am. Bright and early.” “OK, doctor. See you tomorrow at 6am.” “Yes. 6am. OK. See you then.”
I showed up at 5am, checked in for the 6am surgery, changed into the gown, and waited. Nobody came. I asked a few times, but nobody knew where he was. After four hours of waiting, I walked out and made an appointment with a different surgeon, and that went great.
Many little things are like this, and it somehow all works. You flow around the obstacles.
They used to say it’s the Silicon Valley of India. But it’s so much more.
Mumbai and Delhi used to be the place to be, but now Bangalore is where it’s at. Artists, writers, scientists, hackers, painters. A creative, ambitious culture, on par with San Francisco, and nice weather too. It has that exponential energy that comes from the brightest minds being in one place.
The awful infrastructure is the only deterrent, otherwise everyone in India would be here.
But for me, it’s emotional. This is the place where I have the dearest friends.
Giddy Alicia, wry George, cranky Komal, calm Bindu, and swooning Karuna had me laughing to tears, over and over again, happier than I’ve been in years. We tease each other in that endearing way that old friends do, even though I haven’t known them that long.
On my big surgery day, Alicia and Komal cancelled their other plans, came to the hospital, and sat by my bedside for seven hours, chatting with me. It was really meaningful.
I already have a local phone and bank account in Bangalore, and I’m planning on moving there as soon as I can.
I mention this at the end, because if it weren’t for my attachment to Bangalore, I probably would have chosen Medanta Medicity in Gurugram. But if you need healthcare, and you want to meet some great people, search the web for a list of top hospitals in Bangalore, and show up, ready to flow.
Oh and yeah, I’m fine and fully recovered and all is well.
2026-08-31 11:22:11
Notes from Bangalore, India, where I spent most of two weeks in a hospital, and the rest with friends: sive.rs/met/at-15
2026-08-19 05:57:17
Building without predicting. (The story of how I built my perfect home.) sive.rs/fit
2026-08-18 08:00:00
On a podcast, I briefly mentioned that I’m building my dream house without predicting - by living in a bare cabin in the woods, then adding only what I find I actually need.
Apparently it was intriguing, because since then, it’s been my most frequently asked question: “How’s your house going?” I didn’t think this would interest total strangers, but enough people have asked, so here’s the story.
I hope you can apply it metaphorically to your own projects or life choices.
It starts with a maxim:
All buildings are predictions.
All predictions are wrong.
How do you build without predicting? Defer decisions. Start using what’s there. Discover actual needs.
When you catch yourself thinking “We’ll need this,” stop and say, “Let’s find out what we really need.”
A fabled example: They built a new park and argued about where to put the walkways. Around the edges? Through the middle? The winning answer: Open the park with no walkways. After a year, look where people have been walking. Find paths where the grass is worn away. Pave there. Don’t predict.
I’ve preached that idea for decades. Then a few years ago, I bought a piece of land for dirt cheap here in New Zealand - just 30 minutes away - and applied that idea to building a home for me and my son.
How do you build a home without predicting? By living in an unfurnished, unfinished place, adding only what you’ve proven you need or want.
It’s a fun philosophical experiment, testing what you really need. Especially when costs are high, it raises the bar on that word: “need”.
(Note: I will say “I” and “my”, but my teenage son was very involved in most of these decisions, and loves this place even more than I do.)
My land is an off-grid forest valley with a creek running through the middle. No buildings, no electricity or services. Just land. So I really started from scratch.
For two years, before building anything, we spent time there in all seasons, finding our favorite spots. We built a path through our forest. Twice, we came face-to-face with a wild boar.
I slept outside, so I know I need a roof, walls, and great insulation - about 4 by 8 meters. I bought a used, pre-made, well-insulated 4 by 8 cabin. Because they were on a clearance sale, I bought three more, so now we have four adjacent cabins for four purposes:
I love the isolation of purposes. When I go into my cabin, it’s time to work. When we go into the sleeping cabin, it’s time for bed.
I slept on the floor, so I know I need a mattress and blankets. I bought a mattress and blankets and started living there.
I tried living without electricity, then planned on going solar-only, but I decided to get fast fiber internet. Since I was digging a trench for the fiber optic cables to run from the road to my house, it made sense to get electric service.
These ideas are from the book “How Buildings Learn” by Stewart Brand. For 20 years, it’s been a huge influence on my code, my life choices, and now on building my home. If you find this fascinating or crazy, go read that book.
It makes a powerful point about water:
“Water consumes wood, erodes masonry, corrodes metals, peels paint, and expands when it freezes. It warps, swells, discolors, rusts, loosens, mildews, and stinks. Houses deteriorate from the bathroom out.”
Heeding his warning, I made a rule of no water inside. Anything with water stays outside the cabins.
Outdoor showers, I’ve always loved, so now it’s all I’ve got. A simple hose shower that runs the water through a heater. Uncovered, so at night I shower while looking at the stars.
Outdoor kitchen, holding an umbrella while cooking in the rain, proved I needed a roof. Thin walls and a floating roof so the wind can circulate but keeps away the rain. Wonderful except in winter, but a few minutes of cold hands are worth it for no fumes or smoke in the home.
Outdoor bathroom, can I handle that? I tried peeing outside for a month and it was fine. I built the same structure as the kitchen. It’s actually really nice in there in a rainstorm. Got a composting toilet instead of flushing, which saves a lot of water.
Remember, my land is “off-grid” so I have no water supply, and no wastewater service. My only water source is collecting the rain from my roof. Gutters and tanks, and good water filtration. Later I added a reverse osmosis water filter for drinking.
Another nice thing about having the cabins, kitchen, and bathroom all separated, is that it keeps you going outside almost every hour. It snaps you out of your thoughts and into the real physical world of trees, birds, wind and weather. Every night at dusk, the owls start their beautiful “hoo-hoo ... hoo-hoo”.
This is a cold dark valley so I wanted a sauna for sanity, pleasure, and health. Glenn Auerbach from Sauna Times designed a great little two-person sauna for us. Now it’s my nightly ritual: Hot sauna, 82°C for 21 minutes, then shower, then bed. Coming straight from the sauna makes the outdoor shower more appealing on cold nights.
I hate hanging laundry, so I got a washer and dryer. But I’m happy to do dishes, so no dishwasher.
Do I need hot water in the sink? I went without it for a year, and found I never needed hot water - only cold or boiling. So instead of an expensive water heater, I keep a kettle by the sink for dishes and tea.
And no built-in appliances - only portable, for easy changes. I design for maintenance, not appearances, so all conduit and pipes are exposed. Nothing hidden. That said, I planted privacy bushes around the perimeter, since, y’know, I like to shower naked.
The story continues, but that’s enough. For each choice, like where to put lights, the process is:
We’ve been living here full-time for a year and it’s really ideal. It feels like custom tailored clothing. Instead of generic “one size fits all”, it’s a house that perfectly fits our unique preferences and values.
A neighbor came by for the first time and really hated it, getting all upset and yelling, saying I was crazy for not having his preferred comforts.
I love that this home feels wrong for others, and just right for us. (Kind of like my software and other life choices.)
It’s a fun ongoing experiment and reminder to challenge all predictions.
(I have not taken any photos of the house, because I don’t care how it looks, and I almost never take photos of anything.)
