I was born in Santiago, the capital of Chile. I spent my childhood there and received my elementary education in that city. To be honest, after my secondary school education I did not have any clear ideas as to what I wanted to do in the future. I ended up enrolling in a medical technology program at the University of Chile's School of Medicine. I studied there for a year and a half, but it was rather painful as I was not interested in medical sciences at all.

One day, while attending a calculus class, the lecturer examined the notion of limit. The concept captivated me! Something just clicked in my head and I knew mathematics was exactly what I wanted to do. This is when I decided to drop out and quit the medical program. During the next admission period I enrolled in the Civil Mathematical Engineering program at the University of Chile’s School of Physical and Mathematical Sciences, one of South America's most reputable institutions. I completed both my bachelor's and master's degrees there.

During these years, I realized that I was interested in mathematics rather than engineering. The general consensus was that the latter offered better job prospects and higher salaries, but none of that mattered to me. I am not sure I am passionate about mathematics — or about anything at all, for that matter. It is just that it might be the only discipline I am honestly interested in.

My master's thesis was on pure mathematics; specifically on topological aspects of solenoids. The topic is hard to explain, but you can picture it. Take a shoelace and remove the middle third. You get two smaller segments. Do the same with each of them, and repeat this infinitely-many times. In the end, you get a set of points that resembles a string of dust particles along a line. That is called a Cantor set. If you take a collection of circles and nest them inside one another using this Cantor structure, the resulting structure is called a solenoid. What can you do with it? For instance, you can measure, in different ways, the twisting number of the orbits around one another. It may sound boring, but to be honest, it is a beautiful topic in the eyes of the connoisseur.

Part of my family had long been living in Canada, so after finishing my MSc I moved there. I started a PhD at the University of Toronto under topologist Boris Khesin. But I did not like the city. It was huge, restless and extremely humid. On top of that, I had no place to stay and had to sleep in the office for the first few days.

I then realized the city was not for me. Consequently, I moved to Montreal, where I finished my doctorate at the University of Montreal. My thesis focused on Complex Dynamics and Differential Equations.

After defending my PhD thesis, I completed a postdoctorate at the University of Calgary. In 2013, I was offered a three-year Visiting Professor position at the University of The Bahamas. Before completing my tenure there, Khalifa University invited me to join their faculty as an assistant professor in Abu Dhabi. I stayed there for seven to eight years before moving to a university in China.

Life in China was not easy for me. For example, the food was so spicy and unfamiliar, that eating out became a challenge. I would order a bowl of noodles, start eating, and suddenly find something unexpected staring back at me: a little bone, a leg, or even a beak. On top of that, the climate was incredibly humid, with rain four days a week pretty much year-round. The local fauna presented its own surprises. Once, while out for a run, I climbed high up a mountain and came across an abandoned Buddhist temple — only to find a bobcat staring straight at me. Terrified, I turned around and left.

While I was still in China, I received a newsletter with a job posting from New Uzbekistan University. Shortly before that, a well-travelled friend of mine had been to Central Asia. He told me Tashkent had impressed him most, because of the contrast between tradition and modernity. The mountains nearby, good for skiing, were a bonus. I decided to watch a few travel vlogs on YouTube to get at least some sense of the country. I accepted the university's offer.

When it comes to teaching, I am persuaded that the onus (responsibility) of learning mathematics falls mostly on the student. I can help someone understand basic calculus, but if they do not want to learn, no amount of extra help will work — even hiring a hundred teachers and tutors. Those students who love mathematics constantly train their minds. In our case, you can spot the good students playing chess in the hallways around the campus, or spending extra time at the library.

For natural reasons, I find it much easier to work with sophomores, juniors, and seniors than with freshmen. For example, I am currently teaching differential equations, which is in the second year of our bachelor’s program. The students taking this course already know what they want to achieve and are serious about their studies. By contrast, those who have just started university are still trying to find their footing and can be less cooperative, just as I once was.

The faculty at New Uzbekistan University is quite diverse. There are specialists from the United States, Europe and Asia, and this is a major advantage, in my opinion. For example, mathematics is taught differently in Europe than in the United States. The American approach is more pragmatic and straightforward. In Europe, especially in France and Italy, mathematics is a serious discipline; math proofs often fill entire pages down to the slightest microscopic detail. That diversity of teaching traditions is a valuable asset at our institution.

I like collecting watches as well. I started with Swatch models, plastic ones. I used to buy them for $30 during my student years. At one point I managed to collect around a thousand of them. I sold many later, but the passion never went away.

I have always been obsessed with the idea of time. Is it linear? Does it only move in one direction? It feels like a universal variable, a coordinate we assume to be the same on Earth as it is on the surface of the Moon, yet modern physics proves it is entirely relative.

In connection to my interest in watches, I used to go diving, and I needed instruments to measure depth. Out in the water, a watch was my companion. I do not wear them anymore, but when everyone around me started talking about a particular Seiko model, I thought: I have several of those; why not talk about them? That is how my YouTube channel Plastic Indices was born. I post video reviews covering the model, case diameter and thickness, color, and functions. Some watches have a built-in compass, others a thermometer. Some run on a battery; others are mechanical — no battery needed. Which is remarkable, when you think about it.