The Meanderings of a Wayward Traveler

Wi-Fi Wherever You Go!!

2010-04-27T11:33:00.001-04:00

I recently wrote an article for this site about the differences between 3G and 4G and what those differences would mean for the consumer. Apparently someone at Sprint read the piece, because soon after it was published, they emailed me to see if I would like to “test drive” their Overdrive 3G/4G unit.

I was behind the steering wheel at the time and asked my daughter to text back, “Yes, of course I would.”

The reason was twofold. First, the Overdrive connects any mobile phone or laptop to a Sprint 3G or 4G connection. The Sprint 4G network is limited to select cities at the moment, but the Overdrive also connects to Sprint’s 3G network, which is available nationwide.

Secondly, the Overdrive device creates a Wi-Fi hot spot capable of supporting a total of five connections. In order to use the Overdrive device, which is about the size of a square drink coaster, you must purchase a data plan with Sprint, but you don’t need a Sprint mobile account or phone to access the 3G/4G offering.

My 14-year-old daughter immediately understood the importance of such a device. “You mean I can use my computer in the car and do everything I do at home?” she asked.

“Yes.” Suddenly I realized that in addition to ignoring me in the house, she would be able to ignore me in the car.

For optimal omission, I suggested that we drive through 4G territory, which is exactly what we did to test this device.

Sprint presently has 4G service deployed across Baltimore and Philadelphia and has plans to extend this coverage to Washington D.C. and New York City by the end of 2010.

Our trip began just outside of Baltimore. I placed the device on my dashboard, turned it on and then connected to it as one would connect to any Wi-Fi device. We picked up 4G almost immediately. I should point out that my daughter used her laptop and I used my iPhone. And no, I wasn’t looking at my iPhone while driving. Instead, I queued up a video and several podcasts for download and then let the Overdrive and iPhone do their thing while I drove.

Users of an iPhone already know that Apple does not permit you to download a file larger than 19MB using the AT&T 3G network. But the iPhone recognizes the Overdrive as a Wi-Fi hot spot and so sidesteps any file size limitations. The video I downloaded from iTunes was a 600MB TV show. The two podcasts were roughly 34MB each. By the time I reached my final destination of Newtown, Penn., two hours and 15 minutes later, all three files were sitting on my iPhone.

My daughter did what teenage girls do when they have a laptop and connectivity – Facebook.

I showed the Overdrive device to my 16-year-old son, who attends a boarding school in Newtown, and he too understood the importance of such a device in his life. “Dad, if I had that, I could get around the school’s firewall restrictions!”

He was right, since the Sprint data network operates outside of the wireless and wired networks on his campus. I spoke to some of the IT folks at his school and they confirmed that a few students were already using the Overdrive device and doing exactly that – getting around the school-based restrictions. Kids are certainly quick when it comes to technology.

In the past three weeks, I have driven between Washington, D.C. and New York City eight times and have used the Overdrive not only during these drives, but also at locations where there was no publically available Wi-Fi. Even at 3G speeds, I was able to use my laptop for most purposes. When connected to 4G, my access to Youtube and to data downloads was very good.

Once, out along the New Jersey turnpike, I used an iPhone app that scans for Wi-Fi connections, and wouldn’t you know it? I saw several other Overdrive units out there. So already, people on the cutting edge of technology are seeing the value of this unit. It won’t be long before other consumers see it as well.

Glenn Strachan is an international and domestic development expert who specializes in ICT, broadband and health information systems and has traveled to 98 countries. When not Twittering (@glennstrachan) or Facebooking, he reads email on glenn@glennstrachan.com.

Why Some Airports Give Away Wi-Fi A few of the big U.S. airports are switching on free Wi-Fi for travelers. How can they afford it?

2010-01-26T20:31:00.002-05:00

Last week, the Massachusetts Port Authority Board approved a plan to offer free Wi-Fi to passengers at Boston's Logan International Airport. Seattle's Sea-Tac airport is also a recent convert to the free Wi-Fi model. But both cities are in the minority. Of the top 20 airports in the country (ranked by traffic), only seven offer free Wi-Fi.

So why are some big airports switching to the free Wi-Fi model, while others continue to charge a fee? I spoke with representatives from three airports to find some answers.

Advertising Pays Off

Perry Cooper, public information officer for Seattle’s Sea-Tac Airport, explained that November 2009 marked the end of a four-year contract with a company, who had built out the airport's wireless infrastructure. At about the same time, Google agreed to temporarily underwrite the Wi-Fi costs over the holidays, as it did for 54 other airports around the country. When that offer ended on January 15, 2010, Sea-Tac, freed of any contractual obligations, made Wi-Fi free. “We are considered a technology hub, and it only seemed right that the airport should provide free wireless.”

Jacqueline Mayo, public information office at Hopkins Airport in Cleveland, OH, said that they heard the clients very clearly: "We want free Wi-Fi." Mayo said that once their contract for wireless services ended, the airport made Wi-Fi a free service. They are currently working on an advertising model to help pay for the Wi-Fi. A splash screen will advertise coupons for shops and services and value-added offers within the airport.

Earning More Through Sponsorships

Other airports manage free Wi-Fi with a sponsorship-based business model. Samuel Ingalls, the assistant director of aviation, information systems at McCarran International Airport in Las Vegas, Nev., says that he looked at a dizzying number of business models and presentations by various service providers. Ingalls realized that because a campus-wide data network was already in place, it would be very inexpensive to implement Wi-Fi throughout McCarran. But he wasn't prepared to pass the cost along to the traveler.

“We felt it would be possible to provide the very best in customer service by not charging for the connectivity, while at the same time fulfilling our fiduciary responsibilities by earning more from sponsorships than we would from direct customer payment,” said Ingalls.

Free Wi-Fi access was launched at McCarran in January 2005, and while the airport has launched many innovative projects, free Wi-Fi has generated the most overwhelming positive user response. “Years later we still receive compliments from our very satisfied customer,” says Ingalls.

Charging the Traveler

In contrast, according to David Magaña, public affairs officer at the Dallas/Ft. Worth airport, Wi-Fi services will still cost travelers a fee. He said the costs associated with running and maintaining the wireless infrastructure are simply too great for the airport authority. Instead, vendors such as AT&T and T-Mobile will bear the brunt of providing Wi-Fi and will share the income with the airport. To entice potential users, the airport supplements the Wi-Fi with 17 kiosks that provide eight Ethernet cable access ports per kiosk.

Airports are under financial pressures to remain profitable, explained both Ray Diaz, the information technology manager for Miami’s airport, and Jeff Lee, public information officer at St. Louis’s Lambert Field. In the last 18 months, airports have seen reductions in travelers but at the same time have had to increase security. As a result, neither airport is in a position to offer free wireless.

Lee, who has witnessed Lambert Field drop out of the top 20 rankings for airport traffic, said, “We just do not have the money or resources to provide a free network."

The trend for free Wi-Fi is gaining some ground. Soon travelers will have little difficulty finding connectivity at airports in the United States. The question is whether it will be free of charge or not. Travelers do have options, especially if they're not flying through one of the major hubs. Check here to find out whether your next flight departs or arrives from an airport that offers free Wi-Fi.

Free Wi-Fi at McDonald's - Will the latest trend in wireless Internet stick?

2009-12-19T14:29:00.004-05:00

This is reprinted from Discovery.com from an blog posting they asked me to write for them.

As Mark Twain once remarked "(t)he reports of my death are greatly exaggerated."

The same could be said of Wi-Fi. Over the last decade, efforts to provide free Wi-Fi to the general public -- usually a citywide plan -- have revved up, and then stalled, with many projects dying out completely.

But now there's a new trend with chain restaurants like McDonald's and Panera Bread offering free Wi-Fi to its patrons. Will this stick? I think yes.

Many businesses use Wi-Fi to draw potential customers in by providing way stations of connectivity for those of us who carry our “offices” in handbags and knapsacks. As we spend extended periods of time in coffee shops, diners, and now even McDonald's, we become potential buyers of whatever they’re selling.

And from the consumer’s point of view, demand for connectivity is growing. People use a phone for emails, tweets, music, way-finding, checking the weather, and gathering new and mundane information. We’ve come to expect access. Businesses are hearing the call and offering connectivity just about everywhere.

I recently flew on Virgin America Airlines, which provided me with the ultimate connectivity thrill. Virgin, along with Google and GoGo, provides free Wi-Fi during this holiday season. When it is not free, the price varies by the length of the flight, the highest price at $12.95. I would pay that amount to have connectivity. It was amazing to do Facebook in motion and from 36,000 feet. My son wrote his contacts, “I am on a plane, and I have Internet.”

Mobile providers embrace connectivity by offering “smart phones” which come with a data plan to keep one connected to the Internet. The advent of applications or “apps” is probably the biggest driving force behind user growth of the iPhone. Verizon and T-Mobile hope the Droid-enabled phones will do for them what the iPhone has done for AT&T. Just look at the commercial touting the largest 3G network in America and Verizon’s spoof of it.

“Hyperconnectivity,” as I like to call it, once the domain of a small number of people like me who are never without a device, be it a laptop or smart phone, is catching hold in the general population. My 86 year-old father wants to purchase a laptop and install Wi-Fi in his home. If my father understands that Wi-Fi provides connectivity to the Internet and wants it, mainstream America is not far behind.

But free Wi-Fi, or even expensive Wi-Fi, will never be in all places. Neither broadband nor 3G connectivity are as pervasive as either AT&T or Verizon maps portray them. Access to high speed Internet connectivity is still quite limited to urban and high-density suburban settings. Friends who live 10 miles from Amherst, Massachusetts do not have home-based broadband nor do others who live in St. Lawrence County, New York. In rural America, a fast food joint or a coffee shop offering free Wi-Fi access is few and far between. Given that 79 percent of Americans lives in a suburban or urban area, it may be a while before the other 21 percent (roughly 59 million people) enjoys the manifold benefits of ubiquitous connectivity.

And what of all of those Americans spending more time at McDonald's surfing the Web and buying more fries than they might have otherwise? I predict a new trend: obesity related to eating too much food while using a laptop at a free Wi-Fi spot. Call it digital obesity.

Glenn Strachan is an international and domestic development expert who specializes in ICT, broadband and health information systems and has traveled to 98 countries. When not Twittering (@glennstrachan) or Facebooking, he reads email on glenn@glennstrachan.com.

The Loss of a Brother - Merrill Strachan, 1944-2009

2009-12-08T18:52:00.006-05:00

She didn't have to finish her sentence, "Glenn, I have some very sad news..." I started saying "no, no, no, it can't be" but, in reality, I knew that something was wrong before I even placed the call to Sue, my brother’s wife. Our call ended and a sea of tears streamed down my face as I walked the two tenths of a mile back to work. I was barely conscious of the people I passed as I was walking back to work with the ear pods still connected to my ears but nothing playing on the iPhone being held in my hand.

I walked into work, ascended the stairs and saw the person overseeing my consultancy. He knew immediately what had happened and graciously led me to a seat and asked what I needed. I said that I needed a moment to think about what I should do next. My brother was dead: Husband for 44 years; father to nine children; grandfather of 20 children; foster father to four; brother to two and son of one, well, actually two.

Merrill's life started in the midst of World War II, born to my mother and an aviator/pilot stationed in China, flying the “Hump”, part of the CBI (China, Burma, India) corps serving General Stillwell in support of the Nationalist Chinese. Word arrived to Merrill's mother in late April, 1945 that her husband's plane had been shot down over Burma and that there were no survivors. The truth is more likely that the load in the plane was too heavy, and that there was not enough fuel to get over the hump - the Himalayas. I discovered this little piece of history when I was in my thirties. The science of load and aviation fuel balance was a guessing game rather than a science back then.

The war ended, and eventually, on some fateful date, my father reconnected with someone he'd known in school where he also knew her husband, Merrill's father. My father has told us that once he saw Merrill as a very young child he knew what he had to do - he married my mother and Merrill had the only father he ever knew. Merrill became a Strachan, no longer a Hoyle. Two years later Bob joined our family and seven years later I was born.

An early memory of Merrill is the role he served as a surrogate father to me even when my father was around. I once stepped on a pin and started crying. He pulled it out of my foot and told me that I should be wearing shoes - in the house. To this day I still don’t quite understand why he told me that, but he certainly said it with conviction.

It is no secret that Merrill held strong feelings. He set his mind on something and that was his decision. He was intelligent and made certain that people knew so. Some people might consider that characteristic as arrogance, but I only found out two years ago that Merrill was accepted to Massachusetts Institute of Technology on a full scholarship. Merrill chose to attend Lafayette College to be closer to his girlfriend, Sue Earl, mother of his nine children. Was that an ill-fated decision? What would his life have been like had he been a graduate of MIT? The truth, as I believe it to be, is that his love of Sue Earl played a much bigger role in his life than his decisions about college.

Sue Earl graduated with Merrill from High School. Merrill made a decision that Sue was the woman with whom he would spend the rest of his life. If Merrill was cocky, Sue was soft-spoken, the glue that would eventually hold together a family of eleven through the best and worst of times. Sue had, and still has one of the most amazing laughs I have ever heard. She is a beautiful woman and Merrill was lucky to have her beside him for so many years of his life.

Merrill came from a small family and I believe he may have never fully felt connected to us, his brothers, father and a mother who was, to say the least, a source of contention and consternation, despite the fact that our mother loved Merrill, and was his biggest supporter. I grew up in Merrill's shadow as she always raved about how smart he was, bragging about his accomplishments in High School and College. Despite our mother’s love for Merrill, they didn't seem to be able to be in the same room for very long without ending up in a huge argument. Our mother loved to argue and my brother Merrill was not one to ever yield, at least at that point in his life.

So Merrill found Sue, who came from a family of eight children. He was enveloped by the love and support of Sue's family and he became the smart and supportive older brother-in-law. At the same time Merrill and Sue started building their own family one child at a time every two years.

Merrill played a huge role in my life when he permitted me to stay with him, despite his own growing family and distinct lack of space when I needed a place to live as I could not live with my mother. He became my father again and I had to live by his rules. I traded accommodations for childcare and spent a great deal of time with my nephews and nieces, taking them to the beach, going out for ice cream, and preparing supper when Merrill and Sue were working late. I became part of their family.

I believe the worst day of Merrill's life came the day that his son Joey died while swimming in their backyard pool. I drove over to the home of Sue's parents and found Merrill in the living room crying. It was the only time in my life I have ever seen him shed tears. It was also the only time in my life I ever held him in my arms. I was a 21 year old holding my 34 year old brother for a brief moment in time. He became very self conscious of the moment and walked away. No father should ever outlive their child.

From that point in time my life intersected through Merrill and Sue's lives like a thread weaves itself through a cloth. I always returned to their home as often as I could, staying there when there was room -- and there always was room. I felt connected to my brother Merrill, despite the fact that he was more an Earl than a Strachan. That was his life, and his big family neatly interlocked with all the children produced by the Earl family. I was always invited to their huge family gatherings, but I also knew that I was an outsider to a seemingly very insular group.

I told my Supervisor that what I needed was to get to my father before he found out that his son was dead. He asked me whether I was certain that I could get into the car and drive to New York - will you be safe, he asked? I said I could do it. I must do it! It was my duty. I barely recall driving but do remember making lots of phone calls. I was the one who called my brother Bob in Atlanta and told him that Merrill had died. I said that I was going to New York to be with Dad. The call to my father arrived sooner than expected. My father called me on the phone and said that Jim, Merrill's son, had called him and told him about Merrill. We spoke for a bit, and I said I was on my way. My father said that he was fine and that I need not come up. I said "Dad, your son has just died and I want to be with you!" Normally it would have taken six hours to drive from Washington, DC to Freeport, New York, but this time I made it in less than five.

While I was driving my tears would come and go. The car lights around me had a glow which seemed to be sending fragments of light in all different directions. Clearly the tears in my eyes were playing a significant role.

More calls. Should I take Julian with me to California? His mom said that if Julian wanted to go, then she would support the trip. I want Julian to be there because this is his family, my brother's family -- the Strachans of Orange County. I also wanted him with me for support. I wanted him to earn his adult wings. So a decision was made to take Julian out of school for a week in order to attend my brother's funeral.

Oh yes, the call to my daughter, Isabel while I was driving and barely able to compose myself. "What‘s wrong, Daddy?" she asked me. "My brother died, Belle" flowed out of my mouth, unsure of whether she could handle that news. Her response was quick - "My Uncle is dead." And then she asked me, "Are you OK, Daddy?" I said that I was not and then cried so hard that I had to hang up without saying goodbye.

As I was driving I remembered this past June when Merrill flew out to Freeport, for no apparent reason, other than he knew that my brother Bob was going to be at my father's home. I also joined them. The three of us were together for the first time in perhaps 20 years. We did things together. We went to our old neighborhood and reminisced about who lived in what home. It was a great moment for me to be with both my brothers. It felt like Merrill was a Strachan again and we were a family, albeit a small one. Mostly gone was his bravado, but he still had a need to seem like he was the smartest of the bunch. The one area Merrill granted me was all things computer. He was always asking for my help with his computers because he knew that it was my domain and I appreciated that respect. I was always asking him car questions so there was a balance between us. We had a great time together, the three of us and our father.

I saw Merrill several times after that in California -- I am constantly flying back there because I have clients on the West Coast -- and my last time with him came in September. I was alone with him and we were sitting by his pool. I took the time to reiterate to him what I had told him several times in the past – to see a doctor. I said the fact that he was winded after walking for a short period of time concerned me. I told him that I believed that he had congestive heart failure. Merrill was his usual self, telling me that he was fine. He shrugged it off, as he often shrugged off many things which he would rather not hear. I remember walking out of his house and saying goodbye to him. He stood on the sidewalk waiting for me to drive away and he waved at me. That was it. The last time I would see him alive.

When I arrived at my father's house and he was calm. My father is a fatalist who believes that all things happen for a reason and that we must simply go with the flow. He said that he preferred to remember Merrill as he last saw him rather than attend his funeral. He told me that he had one responsibility in life right now which was the care of his partner, Herta, who is in the ever advancing stages of Alzheimer’s disease. He pointed out how much better it was for Merrill to go the way he did rather than the slow death process of Alzheimer’s. He said that Merrill's heart attack, followed by his bypass operation, gave him nearly two complete weeks of joy knowing that everyone was there supporting him. He said that Merrill was surrounded by love right to the last moment of his life.

So here I sit writing this blog whose story has not yet come to an end. My brother was able to convince my father to go to California and attend my brother’s funeral. We get on a plane tomorrow, my son and my father together. I imagine that it will be like a beehive of activity with everyone paying the most attention to Sue, Merrill's wife of 44 years, she being the glue that bonds it all together. All the love that she gave to my brother and her children has brought her to this most difficult point in life. My father believes that there is nothing more painful than losing your spouse. Others believe that the loss of a child is the greatest of all losses. Now Sue and my father have endured both.

Saving Money on AT&T Service Post Facto

2009-12-03T13:33:00.005-05:00

My iPhone was bought hastily in September, but in the short amount of time I have owned my phone it has become indispensable to me. It follows me like my shadow and I utilise my apps with great precision often joking with my friends and children saying "I have an APP for that." What I did not realise when I purchased my phone is that I had the $75 worth of phone services plus the data plan. I incorrectly thought that I had the unlimited plan. Fortunately enough my bill for the first month fell within the restricted minutes of 1350. The next month I was shocked when presented with a bill for $460. I went over my 1350 minute limit by 320 minutes @ .35 per minute for in, and out bound calls. I tried to change my behavior and make fewer calls during peak times and more during the free times which are 9p - 6a. Unfortunately for me I did a bang up job, but for AT&T revenue rather than cost savings for me. The latest bill came in at a whopping $650.

I finally got serious and checked the website and saw that for an additional $20 I would have UNLIMITED voice service. I contacted AT&T and said that I wanted to understand why they do not alert people to a better plan when it is obvious that the end-user would save money. Clearly I know the answer, but it had to be asked. So I was generously passed onto someone who really did make my day. She said that since I had upgraded my service plan to unlimited calls the night before, that she would arrange for a WHOPPING credit of nearly $500. Was I happy with her? You bet I was. The funny part is that she was not surprised by the call and clearly deals with lots of people making the same call and request.

So the lesson for those of you with AT&T service, and perhaps other providers, is to call the company if you go way over your allocation and see whether they can work something out. Since I do not happen to have a spare $500 just sitting around, it was a good call, actually a great call.

Proud Father Moment

2009-12-01T11:45:00.002-05:00

My son, Julian, responded to a letter he saw printed in a local newspaper which suggested that Muslims not be permitted to join the military, but if permitted, they should be subject to more stringent oversight than non-Muslims. Here is the letter my son sent to the paper.

Keen letter

I was ashamed by the publishing of Mr. Keen's letter (The Capital, Nov. 19). It is bigoted and myopic.

Every single citizen of this wonderful country has the right to feel as though no one is better then they. By targeting a certain group of people because of their religion, the state would be breaking the First Amendment right of freedom of religion.

All American citizens also have the right to join the military, regardless of ideology, although some groups of people are disallowed due to sexual preference.

This country is a mixing pot of differing ideologies, and the country is made better by the mixture of people.

If one is to target Muslim extremists why not target Christian extremists, like those who bomb abortion clinics, because they are both equally as dangerous to the stability of our nation.

JULIAN STRACHAN

It is rare when a parent is able to hear, let alone see, the private thoughts of a teenager. More rare is when you see that they are standing up for a concept which you yourself strongly support. Pretty Cool.

Confessions of an International Development Consultant

2009-08-21T05:23:00.006-04:00

At the risk of crying in my beer, an odd concept for me given that I do not drink alcohol, the life of an International Development Consultant, at least this International Development Consultant, is far from being a bed of roses some believe it might be. From the moment I could imagine a life for myself it involved travel. I wanted to see the world and experience what it is like to live abroad as part of a society other than American. I have been "on the road" for decades having found a career which helped me realize my dream -- computer consultant par excellence

Two expressions come to mind as a warning for those who also wish such a life: the first being "be careful what you wish for"; the second a Chinese proverb "May you live in interesting times." Nothing could be truer than these two expressions, at least as they relate to the life I have led working outside of the USA. First, and foremost, in order to be able to spend extended time overseas, consultants must have the ability to place their life on hold, the part which exists inside the USA. They must literally push the hold button on the phone, get on a jet and start a new temporary life -- different country same survivor skills.

Once we land "in country", we slow everything down in our head, walk a bit slower, notice things a smidge more. Search for the commonalities between the new country and previous countries. We look for creature comforts such as someone sent to pick us up at the airport instead of running the gauntlet of finding a taxi, negotiating a price, and getting delivered to the right place -- all done in a mixture of hand signals and perhaps a little bit of English depending on where we have landed. The International consultant is most vulnerable during these first moments at the airport -- we must adapt quickly or we will get ripped off, and I hate being ripped off my cabdrivers.

Adaptability is the key to working overseas. One must be malleable to whatever confronts him -- small or big. The hotel check in is the next challenge. Will we have a nice room with air conditioning or heat; will it have rock like pillows; will it have more than a flimsy sheet; will the room have a door or a curtain which hides your bed in a hallway? I have suffered from all of these insults to the system countless times. Endless stories of poor accommodations for those of us who eschew the comforts of Hiltons, Sheratons and other, more glamorous stations, in order to save money for the project with which we are assigned to help.

Check in at the hotel is complete and all we want to do is sleep if we were unable to do so on the plane. Quite often we land early in the morning and are expected, like a sprinter shooting out of the starting blocks, to immediately go to work. There is time for sleep later, someone is paying a lot of money for an expert and we are immediately thrust into that role. We are expected to make an immediate impact, people have been awaiting our arrival, the clock is ticking, make immediate sense of things and move forward. The day is done, and now we decide between eating or sleeping in a zero sum scenario. Often desperate for sleep, food loses out and sleep rules the night.

Adaptability again! Our second day at work, assignments at hand, we try to feel out the people with whom we are working. It is important NOT to be a know-it-all, but we are getting paid to be such. It is all in the presentation. I always choose cordiality over brute force. Build consensus and try to fit in. It is a better overall approach to being a successful International Consultant than being remembered as the jerk from America who came and ordered rather than taught.

Depending on the length of the assignment, we must be prepared to create a semi-sustainable lifestyle. Going out late at night and getting up early is a perfect formula for either getting sick quickly, or burning out short of the endpoint of the assignment. I try to remain vigilant with my time schedule maintaining some semblance of order such as dinner by 7pm, at the latest; time for a walk; time for sit-ups or some form of exercise; and time to wind down the day and get to sleep at a reasonable hour. Not much different than being in the USA, with the exception of being alone.

I have learned to live a solitary life. The people with whom we work have their own lives. They don't have time, nor is there an expectation that they will spend what little spare time they have after working hours keeping us company. So alone we must be and we must be able to sustain this for a long period of time. The assignments we are given are called "Short Term Technical Assistance" but short term is just a word which means anywhere between a few days to 6 months. Unless we are able to adapt quickly, loneliness can be our greatest enemy. I have learned to force myself to get out of the "hotel" and experience some of the ambiance of where I am "living." I force myself to meet people -- not something which comes easily to me in the USA but a necessary survival skill overseas. I move around. I bring my soccer cleats and goalie gloves in search of a venue. I once showed up at a crappy field outside of Kampala, Uganda and did exactly this and it was very rewarding, not to mention a shock to the Ugandans. This helped me in Albania, Montenegro and especially in Macedonia.

Ah the loneliness! It is what separates the good consultant from the poor. Loneliness, and the ability to place life on hold, go hand in hand. Doing a two week consultancy is a piece of cake -- like a sprint. An eight week assignment is more akin to trying to swim underwater across a long pool -- one holds their breath as long as they can tuning out all other thoughts other than doing your job well enough to satisfy the in-country staff and the employer, and also endure the long time away from your life, which has been frozen in place back in the States.

At some point our time draws to an end, and we start to think about going home. I try to put these thoughts off, like a marathoner at mile 22 trying not to think about the fact that he still has 4 more miles to run. All of the sudden the end has come and we head to the airport. We close down our temporary life. We say goodbye to people who we will likely never see again. We go out that last day and make certain that we have purchased all the gifts we need to bring back with us to help jump start our "real life."

Finally on the plane, we hope we get some sleep, because returning to the States is like that moment when one exits the water exhausting your last bit of oxygen, that point when you hear your heart beat in your ears; that gasp for air along with the realization that you made it all the way to the other end of the pool underwater.

The director in our head yells ACTION and we pick up where we left off. We are once again surrounded by the people we left behind whose lives went on while we were away. For some, that absence was difficult, for others they say "Where ya been?" I get, at most, 10 minutes of time to tell people about the temporary life I just lived after which I am expected to become a full fledged participant in the "permanent" life I have within the USA. Travel enough and you will not know which one is temporary, and which one is permanent.

Dispatches from Israel/Palestine - Epiphany Realised

2009-08-14T12:35:00.010-04:00

`Why use the term “epiphany” to describe that I finally “Got it!” It was all right in front of me, I just couldn’t understand it until three things happened. One person told me that there was a war in 1967, the Jordanians lost, and the people in East Jerusalem have had 42 years to prepare for “eminent domain,” the right of the government to seize property – a right that all governments worldwide practice.

Another person explained the following:

‘You ask a good question which warrants an answer beyond 140(?). We were the nation of Israel before we were ever known as "the Jewish people." Yes, we practice a religion that is the root of Western civilization, but we are not simply a religion. Jews have always been a nation. We were liberated as a nation from Egyptian slavery, we received the Torah on Mount Sinai as a nation, and we entered the land that G-d chose for us as a nation. In the year 70 C.E., (C.E.???) our Holy Temple was destroyed and we were banished from our land. King G-d banished his prince, the nation of Israel, from the palace. Since then, we have been praying three times a day, everyday, to return. Furthermore, we knew from the prophecy in the Tanah (known as the Old Testament to Christians) that we would indeed return. The nation of Israel would once again have sovereignty over the land of Israel, and one day, our Holy Temple would will also be rebuilt. The independence of 1948 was like the King allowing the prince back to the palace—on a trial basis. Borders were indefensible, economy and infrastructure were weak, the newly gathered exiles held their collective breath to see if our nation would be allowed to stay permanently. The answer from came in 1967, when in six days our nation defeated the entire Arab world, and increased our hold on our Promised Land to include defensible borders.

Life is sacred, and we Israelis have no joy in seeing the stateless Arabs suffer at the hands of terrorist leaders. These Islamic zealots teach five year olds on children's TV that the highest goal in life is to kill Jews. They have Mickey Mouse knockoffs telling children to shed their blood in defiance of the Jews. Regardless, we try to help these Arabs held hostage in camps by the terrorists. We try to help them while at the same time asserting our G-d given right to our Holy Land. In a long answer to your short question - yes, it's worth it.

Let me digress for a moment—I asked a question on Twitter: why a piece of Germany was not cut-out as part of post WWII reparations to create a country where European Jews could go and live in peace. I did some research prior to asking this question and discovered that there were approximately 9 million Jews living in Europe, not counting those living in Russia. These Jews were living their lives, just as those around them did, working in all walks of life. Some were very rich while others were very poor. In Romania, 600,000 Jews lived in Bucharest and Iasi , the latter being the Jewish cultural epicenter of Romania. Similar populations of Jews lived in Saloaniki, now called Thessaloniki, Greece. We all know that there were large populations of Jews living in Germany, Austria, Poland, Lithuania, Latvia, France and the list goes on. These Jews may have considered Israel the promised land but they lived lives wherever they were, which was likely where their parents, grandparents and previous generations all lived. They were as tied to their homes as their non-Jewish neighbours. So if there was a trickle of a migration of Jews from Europe and Eastern Europe to Israel, but not a mass migration, then I can move to the next point. A terrible pogrom befell upon these same Jews of Europe and Eastern Europe n the form of Adolf Hitler and his ill-conceived desire to solve the Jewish problem. [Your time sequence is hard to follow; you start out talking about post WWII and now we’re in the middle of Hitler? What happened to the Jews between 1935 and 1945 sands as one of the greatest crimes against humanity alongside similar strategic pogroms in Russia, Cambodia, Sudan and Rwanda, to name just a few. In 1945, as the world realized what took place in the death camps, the United Nations was created and the world devised a c plan of reconciliation of sorts, and used the previous “contract” put forth in the Balfour Declaration. Palestine would become a Jewish state which would welcome all Jews seeking protection against persecution. In 1949 the Nationalist Chinese left their last threshold of land in Mainland China and moved to Taiwan where they too created a haven for Chinese seeking a “safe port.” Except for religion as a prerequisite to entering a country, these two migrations bare a lot of similarities.

The trump card came from my Twitter friend who provided the religious imperative explanation, for why Palestine was the “Promised Land” and his explanation is stated above.

A light bulb went off. I am not a religious person, so I cannot appreciate the fact that a religion can have as one of its tenets a promised land. That for thousands of years, the Jews, had a mandate of ownership of a land called Palestine and Israel throughout history. There was no need to carve out any land within post-World War II Europe because there already was a land which belonged to each Jew living throughout the world and in 1945, it was a protectorate of the British government called Palestine. Jews made their voyages to Israel and the book Exodus describes these journeys. British opposition to the migration of Jews to Israel eventually evaporated as bridges, trains, buildings and eventually humans were bombed and killed in the name of statehood. Eventually the state of Israel was granted its sovereign status as a country when the United Nations voted on the issue and immediately created a safe haven for Jews; concurrently that same UN decision created the Palestinian issue.

There are UN camps for displaced Palestinians still standing to this day, nearly 62 years later. A temporary situation lasting 6 months or less often becomes permanent. Lay on top of this the Six-Day War in 1967 and you have a victor and a loser. The latter group has never ever been fully capable of organizing itself into a viable governmental and national body, perhaps due in part to the way Israel has co-opted its way of life, and also its own inability to come to terms which each other and share a common goal of statehood and how that should be accomplished. Look at the West Bank versus Gaza saga and it is clear that two tribes cannot agree with each other enough to establish one strong government, and instead are handicapped by two weak institutions vying for power.

Since my arrival six weeks ago and inculcation into all things Israeli and Palestinian, I have been looking for a complex answer when, in fact, it was simple; I just didn’t have the religious understanding to see it. The Jews are Israel and Israel represents Jews worldwide. End of the story. But is it really the end of the story? Religiosity is as individual and personal as the way in which a person subscribes to and interprets a religion. Furthermore, it creates a concept of religious relativism—each person must, by definition, be as correct in his interpretation of his religion as the next person.. The only way to win the game of religious relativism is through disseminating the “proper message,” collecting adherents and controlling a large swath of public opinion. This is the case, for example, with the religious right in America which seeks to convince me that abortions are against the will of God and that, unless I accept Jesus as my Savior, I end up in Hell.

In Israel, the reason Israelis are able to take away the homes of the residents who lived here prior to the creation of Israel as a nation-state is that this is a promised land. Unless you are Jewish, the land underneath your house does not belong to you. It is that simple. Add to that that Israel defeated the Arab armies in 1967 and won back the rest of the promised land. Islam offers that unless one is Muslim, one is an infidel. An infidel’s life is unimportant than a Muslim’s. It is not the individual Muslim who believes that my life is less important, instead it is the larger driving force, lead by the leaders which have the largest followings. Christians killed Muslims and Jews alike during the Crusades. Muslims killed Orthodox Christians and Jews as they marched forward with their expansion. Throughout time,the cult of religion has been a driving force behind the deaths of millions of people worldwide. It is the oldest struggle in man’s short history on Earth.

The Johnny Nash lyric I can see clearly now the rain is gone describes my enlightenment at this point in time. As long as religion is wielded to subjugate , there will never be a peace.

Dispatches from Israel - Religious Observations

2009-08-08T09:16:00.003-04:00

A few years back I went on several safaris——in the Masai Mara of Kenya, the Serengeti of Tanzania and in two national parks in Uganda. I saw the “Big Five” animals, and the one thing that I remember more than anything else was the magnificence of the river crossings the wildebeest and the zebra made. Both animals know to find the shortest crossing point and when they did, hundreds of thousands of them would wait for just the right moment to cross. The slightest noise and they would retreat. I checked this once by clapping my hands as I was watching them wait for that perfect moment. The challenge for these animals was that they knew that crocodiles were waiting for them. If they moved en masse, the group’s chance for survival was far better than if one lone animal made the crossing. Once one of the wildebeest made a move to cross the river, they all acted as a single organism. The "crocs" picked off the babies, or those on the edges of the herd. Eventually the herd made it to the other side, albeit minus some of its more vulnerable members. This migration happens every year as the animals search for new supplies of grass upon which to feed.

In Jerusalem, there is a road not far from my hotel which divides the Muslims’ area from the Jews’. The road leads to the Damascus Gate through which Jews pass to make their way to the Western Wall to pray at the holiest Jewish shrine in the world. I went to the Western Wall one Friday at sunset and observed as Jewish families made their way on the road. Hundreds of people were dressed in religious clothes, the men wearing either a black fedora or a round flat bushy hat that looked like a cake carefully balanced atop of one’s head. All the men had Hasidim curls, the young boys still with light hair had blonde curls while the older men had black or graying curls.

Unlike any other day, Friday is the holy day, which begins at sundown. To help secure the safe passage of the Jews along this road on Fridays, there is an overabundance of police, with rifles held at the ready who make certain that nothing happens. The massive numbers of people making their way to the Wall reminded me of the wildebeest and zebra pilgrimages for sustenance.

I joined the migration to the Western Wall and walked through the ageless passage ways of the Old City of Jerusalem until we got to what looks like the convergence of 14 different lanes of traffic into 2 lanes heading into the Lincoln Tunnel across the Hudson River in New York. I broke away and took the high road so that I could look from above at the plaza in front of the Wall and the throngs of people. From up there I observed that the Israeli Defense Forces were everywhere, protecting the assembled from attack. Everyone who enters the plaza passes through metal detectors which are set far back from the Wall to protect the people milling about the plaza should something happen.

This trek is repeated daily by some, while others make it every Friday as the sun begins to drift below the horizon. The length to which those who make this trek are protected is amazing. It made me think about what it must be like to be Jewish and weather a history of torment and anti-Semitism spanning over 2000 years. To survive the murder of six million Jews during World War II. Yet, every day people make their way to the Wall, honoring their faith and creed, and paying homage to their relatives and ancestors who sacrificed so much.

As I exited the Old City and returned back up the road to the hotel, people were still making their way in the evening light to the Wall. The police were still there protecting the route. Within minutes I was on the other end of the road in another world where only non-Jews go—Arabs, Palestinians, Christians and tourists.

Top 10 Reasons for Attending SOCAP09

2009-08-04T03:02:00.002-04:00

10. Great food thanks to Heidi (You have to meet Heidi although she couldn't smuggle in
any Mountain Dew for me I still think she is the best)
9. Great venue. I cannot imagine a nice place to hold a conference.
8. You get to see the event organisers and help staff really try to make this a
meaningful event
7. The free time allocated over the 2 1/2 days really made the conference worthwhile
6. An opportunity to meet your never before seen Twitter and Facebook and other social
media friends
5. A magnificent array of speakers
4. So much good stuff that you have trouble selecting between GREAT AND GREAT
3. You get to see Jerry Michalski organise a free flow of ideas on the last day. For
me, this really made the event incredibly worthwhile and unique.
2. Making friends with people who believe in the same ideas as you and finding a
synergy to come together and work on future activities
1. What better way is there to spend three days with some of the most creative people
you will ever meet.

Celebrity Collage by MyHeritage

2009-07-22T05:51:00.001-04:00

MyHeritage: Celebrity Collage - Ancestory - Old photographs

Dispatches From Israel - Miscarriage of Justice?

2009-07-19T12:58:00.003-04:00

My Palestinian host and I were sitting at, of all places, Kentucky Fried Chicken, when he decided to tell me his story, which he had only alluded to in the past week. He knew that I might recount his story and I assured him that if I would protect his privacy and never use his name or his image. Each of my Palestinian hosts has been forthcoming with their personal experiences about what it is like to live in Israel as a Palestinian. So, there we were, sitting at KFC, and he started by saying that once he spent nearly 6 months in prison. His crime? He rented a flat within the home he owns in East Jerusalem to someone from Ramallah. He said the police came to his home and informed him that it was illegal to permit someone from Ramallah to live in East Jerusalem without first getting authorization. The policeman gave him a citation and said that all he needed to do was pay a relatively small fine and that would be it.

My host has recently returned to East Jerusalem after living overseas for several years, and was not well-versed in the latest rules and regulations governing who could and could not stay in East Jerusalem. Unfortunately someone within the Israeli justice system made a decision to pursue this “crime” with vigor and make it an example to others. My host told me that it took two years to prosecute his case and his lawyer kept telling him not to worry. When the Israeli justice system was unwilling to plea bargain, my host realized that he was in big trouble. When his day in court came, the judge said that since my host was so well educated he had no excuse for not knowing the law. He was sentenced to 6 months in jail and fined 15,000 shekels or $3800USD.

He explained to his lawyer that if he couldn’t work he couldn’t pay the fine so the sentence was reduced to 6 months in prison without being fined. Remember, his crime was allowing someone to live in a place he owned. My host kept negotiating and asked to be placed in a prison close to East Jerusalem so his family could see him every weekend. The first prison he was sent to was in northern Israel, 2 or 3 hours away from his family; it was overcrowded, and loaded with hard-core criminals. My host is an educated gentleman of slight build, and likely never had had to defend himself from physical harm. He also feared that someone might inject him with drugs; each week the prisoners were drugs tested and he was afraid that someone might inject him just to make his life difficult. The jail was so overcrowded that at night one might not get a bed and have to sleep on the floor. He was allowed a plastic bag in which he could store some toiletries, but had to keep vigilant over the bag or it would be stolen. Rats came out at night and once someone awoke screaming when a rat skittered over his back. He barely slept during the first couple of weeks. My host contacted his lawyer and asked him to arrange for a relocation. The Israeli prosecutor knew that my host had specific skills and asked him whether he was willing to use them, and live at a hospital. My host asked whether he would have a room, and a sheet to cover himself at night. It was amazing how quickly one missed things like a bed sheet when deprived of it. When he was relocated, rather than use his skills, he was tasked with jobs that no one else, other than a prisoner, would do.

His lawyer petitioned to have the sentence thrown out by the Supreme Court and discovered that the judge who presided over his case wrote the verdict in such a way that it could not be overturned. This meant that my host would have a criminal record and be unable to work for any Israeli-based company. Yet people committing worse crimes received shorter sentences. He came to the realization that the Israeli justice system was using him to make a point to other people in East Jerusalem. Fortunately for my host, he did receive credit for good behavior, and his sentence ended sooner than expected. At the end of his story, the other Palestinian hosts were as shocked as I. They had not heard the story before and were incredulous.

More recently, my host was informed that his house in East Jerusalem is scheduled for demolition. He has been fighting that order and has made a temporary arrangement to pay a fine and to enter new architectural plans to remedy the “problem” with his home – a problem as defined by the Israeli justice system. It is a horrible situation: he cannot leave East Jerusalem or his home with be torn down, but he works in Ramallah and must endure the daily holdup at Israeli check points. He is a gentle man who simply tells me his story without any overt signs of hatred and illustrates the life of a Palestinian under the Israeli system.

Before the 1948 agreement, his family owned a substantial amount of land which has since been confiscated. Now his home in Jerusalem is next. A few days after telling me his story at the KFC, my host dropped me off at my hotel and pointed out that I was staying directly across the street from the court house where he had been sentenced to prison. I went up into my room and opened the curtains and looked out at the court house. Justice, oppression….I wondered whether there would ever be a resolution to the conflict in this part of the world. According to my host, the answer is no. You cannot undo taking peoples’ land away, restricting their freedoms and making their lives miserable. This is just his story, and each one of my hosts has his own story.

Jerusalem and Discovery

2009-07-17T12:27:00.008-04:00

It takes a lot to surprise me after traveling to 96 countries. During my travel I have seen hundreds of cities and have a long list ones I love, and those I don’t. For my first nine days in Israel I have been working 12 hour days and what little time free time I did have was spent walking around Ramallah and Nazareth. I thought Nazareth was an amazing town, full of historical sights and small back alleys filled with fruits, deserts, clothing and lots of people --Nazareth is part of the religious pilgrimage tour. What I discovered within a few moments of entering the Old City of Jerusalem was that Nazareth is to Jerusalem what hamburger is to filet mignon. For someone like myself, who has always wanted to visit Israel, it is clear that I was ill prepared for what I found in the Old City of Jerusalem. I was uncertain where the Old City was located so I asked for directions and was told to go out the door, turn right, then left and walk to the wall. I thought that the shops and stores I was passing were part of the Old City, but then I saw the flow of people walking towards this huge wall and entering through an archway which led them into the Old City. I guess I was in the old “new city” but have since found out that there already is a “new city”. Old cities are not new to me – I have seen the island of Rhodos and its “old city.” I loved walking the back “steps” on Hong Kong Island leading me past seemingly ancient stores as I walked up a non-ending set of steps. Oh, and Istanbul, and its market which could keep you occupied for several days. As I walked through the entry way into the Old City, I had no idea what was awaiting me. It was immediately apparent that this was something rather special. The shops were carved out of what was once a solid rock. The walkways were a combination of stones and cement heading downhill for as far as I could see. I was definitely on the main route but just about every 100 feet there were paths leading to more shops. It was a true labyrinth and I was afraid of getting lost. When I am new to any place, I tend to slow down and notice everything, mental breadcrumbs as I call them. I walked up an alley until I felt I had gone far enough. I didn’t take any branches off the branch but instead simply returned to the main path and continued with my Old City discovery phase.

I went deeper and deeper into the old city. I saw rug stores, jewelry, roman antiquities, fruit stands, food stalls, clothing and churches. I joined a tour group for a few moments and discovered that the alley they were about to walk up was the oldest section of the Old City. I also learned that the church we were standing in front of was 700 years old. The arches I walked through were built between 1537 and 1542. If I go one direction I will see the Church of the Holy Sepulchre and another way to the Western Wall and yet another to the Dome of the Rock. All of this exists within relative feet of each other. This is, as the guide book states, “above all a holy place.” I am not a religious person, but I did decide to walk into an old church and listen to the service. It was in Spanish so I did get the gist of the service - “Our father, who art in heaven” but in Espanol. It was somewhat calming for me to attend the service. I started writing a blog in my head and was anxious to return to my computer and write about the joy of discovery I had in the Old City. I started to head back, thinking about stopping at the English language bookstore I passed. I was thirsty, so I stopped to grab a soda. I asked how much the soda cost and the shop owner, who was probably 20 years old, told me five shekels. I handed him a ten shekel coin and he told me it was no good. This was the third time that someone had told me this, but I knew that there was nothing wrong with the ten shekel coin, so I asked for it back and I then handed him five 1 shekel coins. I asked him if they were any good and he said yes and placed them in his drawer. He then said, “let me see your ten shekel coin and I will show you why it is no good.” I thought he was being nice, as I have found everyone to be, but then he threw the coin in his drawer. I asked him to give me back the coin and he just stared at me in a non-responsive manner. Someone else came into the store and his attention was now on them. I interrupted him and asked for my $2.5 dollars back – I really asked for the coin, but that is the exchange rate against the US dollar. Again he ignored me so I said that I would get another soda if he was not going to give my money back. I got the soda, and walked out of the store with two diet cokes. Yes, I know, I should have just walked away, but more than anything, I hate being played for a dupe. Doesn’t matter what country I am in, I just hate being ripped off.

I walked out of the store and was about 50 feet away from the store when he grabbed me from behind. Yes, I knew he was coming, but I was not going to start a physical fight. He tried to grab the can out of my hand and I asked for my money again. Trust me, he spoke English very well. He grabbed once again for the soda, but this time he knocked it out of my hand and it hit the ground and burst open. I turned away from him and walked away. As I did I could see that a number of people had stopped to watch the standoff between a merchant and the American. All of the sudden the joy of being in such a beautiful location had quickly soured. I left the walled city and then sat down and felt that last bit of bright sun on my face. I played the whole thing through my head over several times and realized that I probably should not have done what I did, but it was so clear what he had done to me that I just simply couldn’t let it go. As the adrenaline ebbed away, and regained my composure, I thought about how beautiful the Old City was, and realized that all I lost was $2.50.

I walked backed the same way I came, following my mental breadcrumbs. I stopped at the bookstore again and purchased my most favourite newspaper, the Herald Tribune. I also purchased the Lonely Planet Guide to Israel and Palestine and then read the part about Safety and Security in Israel. It says that you should protect yourself from theft. Oh well, it won’t ever happen again.

P.S. The picture is of the vendor's shop who "ripped" me off.

Dispatches from Israel - Country 96 and Palestine

2009-07-07T10:05:00.034-04:00

10th July 2009

I love the book Journey to Ixtlan by Carlos Castaneda. Ixtlan is about the journey of the "sorcerer" or warrior or man of knowledge and his experience of trying to return to the metaphorical hometown of Ixtlan. The story is firmly entrenched in my memory. For me, it serves as an allegory for one who wishes to return home absent the knowledge of what one has learned since leaving. A return to Ixtlan is an attempt to return to an innocence which one loses as one grows older and forever changed. Instead of searching for knowledge, it is an attempt to return to what I once was, but I have been forever changed and cannot be the way I used to be.

The reality for me, like most Americans, is that Israelis and Palestinians are people who live far away and their influence on my life is remote or indirect, if at all. To some degree, this ignorance is akin to wearing blinders or sweeping dirt under a rug. At some level we are all interconnected if not personally, then by the events which spin off like hurricanes from the coast of Senegal. When I was in Senegal during hurricane season I realized that there was an absolute correlation between the weather in Senegal and a hurricane spawned many miles away which might kill hundreds or thousands of people.

In many ways, this trip to Israel and the West Bank affords me a privilege of trying to appreciate firsthand a different perspective of reality---a reality beyond newspapers and the talk of pundits, We would like to believe that the plight of the Palestinians is like weather in Senegal, or dirt under the rug. We do not pay attention to it – we ignore it – or even worse, our upbringing inures us to the plight of the Palestinians. Why should I worry about Palestinians, or Sudanese, or Aung San Suu Chi when my local life is burdened enough without borrowing the troubles of the world. Many Americans don’t pay attention to geo-political issues and, as such, are unable to connect the dots and understand why we should be concerned about the plight of the Palestinians who have been made landless with the full support of every American president since Harry Truman. One could argue that America’s unilateral support of Israel has led to the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq and the deaths of over 4,000 American soldiers. The person I was before traveling to Israel and the West Bank would have suggested that America has to maintain this position because it serves as the guarantor of Israeli security, the only means of preventing genocide of Jews.

When I first went to Africa I was daunted by the enormity of the problems it faces as a continent. I came away realizing that people could spend an entire life trying to make a difference and then find their work ruined in a day by a single raid.

The Jews and the Palestinians each claim thousands of years’ worth of ownership in Israel and the Palestinian territories. The U.S. since Jimmy Carter has exerted pressure on Israel to resolve the issue. I asked my Palestinian host why Egypt was able to broker a peace with Israel, its mortal enemy, while the Palestinians have not yet. Even the Irish were finally able to stop 400 years of the “fighting and dying” cycle. He explained that Egypt only displaced 1% of the Palestinian populace with the peace accord while the “6 Day War” in 1976 and the creation of Israel in 1948 displaced nearly 98% of the Palestinian populace. “There is no answer, no resolution?” I asked and he shook his head, “There cannot be.”

I learned yesterday that the city of Haifa is emblematic of how things might be throughout Israel and the West Bank. In Haifa, Jews, Muslims and Christian live in what can be described as peaceful coexistence and tolerance of one another. “So why not everywhere, “I asked? “Because Haifa is different from anywhere else in Israel – a different history – one where even though the Jewish population is predominant, Christians and Muslims are given equal opportunity to live and live within the same complex as Jews. In East Jerusalem and many other points throughout Israel, the homes and livelihoods of Palestinians have been destroyed without any form of compensation.” Is the need to create and protect a homeland for the Jews so great that it can only be accomplished at the expense of the Palestinians?

I find myself wanting to return to Ixtlan and forget what I have learned thus far, and live in denial or ignorance. But that is not possible or realistic: life is too short not to try to make it a more harmonious one for our world’s children who will inherit the legacies we leave behind.

9th July 2009

My Palestinian host's voice quivered somewhat as he began to tell me the story of his families particular plight with the Israeli government. I asked him if there was any way to find a middle ground and he said no. "The struggle now is how well the Israeli government can go about tightening the restrictions on travel and land ownership for Palestinians." I am torn between my impression of Israel when I was a child and what I see now. This is the world's oldest continuing struggle in many ways. I have always supported the right of Israel to exist and now I see how that is happening. The pattern seems, unfortunately, very similar to what happened in South Africa under the apartheid. It is complicated, believe me, to understand the landscape; it is difficult to wrap my brain around all of this.

My host continues with his story about how the Israeli government has a tear-down order on his house unless he pays $50,000, which he has been doing over time. The land his family once owned has been confiscated and turned into to housing for others. His is not the only story being told to me as we drive our car into Nazareth. Another Palestinian colleague is telling me about a permit to build her house up, which is the only direction permitted, and it has been eight years since she started the process and many thousands of dollars. If she were Jewish instead of Palestinian, it would take no time and cost very little. Then the Christian gentleman who's been teaching me about the history of the Bible shows me points of historical interest in Nazareth. It turns out that the Christians live with the same restrictions as the Palestinians. The pecking order starts with Jews and ends with Palestinians.

My host from Jerusalem says that he would like to live in Ramallah and keep his home in Jerusalem. Doing so would mean that he would lose his home in Jerusalem forever and he would be restricted in his movements once he took up residency in Ramallah. Another person in the car tells me that he has never spent a night in Nazareth before because he has not been permitted to travel into this region. “Can you imagine that I have lived here, in Palestine, for 42 years, and yet I have never been to Nazareth before now?”

For two hours, perhaps ever longer, I listen to the stories of being Palestinian inside of Israel. They are complicated stories and recounted by four different people who share similar experiences. The irony is that all four individuals work professionally to make the West Bank and the Palestinian territory better places to live. One of my hosts explains that the Israeli government impedes development work each and every day by dictating where he and his colleagues can go, when they can go, and what they can bring into the country. They are working to improve the delivery of medical services throughout the territory, which seems to me like an activity which everyone including the Israeli government could support.

When we are finished with dinner, one of the people at the table asks me whether I will tell my son that I have been to countries 96 and 97, the latter being Palestine. I don’t know how to answer. "What does it take to be considered a legitimate country?" he asks. It is a discussion which I don't know enough about to pursue.

8th July 2009

As we drove north through the Jordan Valley, I could see Jordan just on the other side of the presently dry Jordan River. My mobile phone kept shifting from Jordanian providers to Israeli providers. With each shift I received a welcome message and encouragement to enjoy Jordan and Israel. I also saw a lot of rocks. Like the lunar landscape, this land seems absolutely impenetrable. “Why would people fight over this useless land” was one of the thoughts going through my head. The road was perfectly smooth but circuitous as we went around small mountains which were mostly barren except for the Arab settlements on the edge of Ramallah and then the Israeli settlements in the Israeli protected areas. In many ways the terrain reminded me of Greece – a million rocks per every mile. We drove past terraced hills with olive trees. Every so often there were large expanses of Sunflower plants dried up by the sun awaiting the crews who will empty the dead plants of their seeds. At some point we came upon young palm trees in the earliest stages of their growth. They reminded me of the pineapple farms in Hawaii. The further we drove the taller the trees became until at some point there were literally miles of tall mature Palm trees. I saw a sign for a Kibbutz and was reminded of my childhood when some of my Jewish friends left the USA to fly to Israel to work on a Kibbutz. We passed teenagers who were hitch-hiking. Again I was reminded of my friends who, at a young age, went to Israel and hitchhiked their way around the country. We came to a sign which said Haifa 40km and Nazareth 39K and I was so excited. I have always wanted to go to Haifa and I felt that I was almost there just seeing the sign. We paused our trip for a few minutes and I left an air conditioned vehicle to step out into the dessert heat. I felt at home. It was dry and very hot. Just outside the rest stop was a bus stop with 4 teenagers, seemingly Israeli, trying to hitch a ride to some unknown point. Two boy and two girls taking turns sticking their thumb out hoping to catch a ride. I thought about how hitchhiking had become an anachronistic behaviour in the United States due to safety concerns. They kids certainly didn’t seem to care about that issue – perhaps it is still absolutely safe to hitchhike in Israel – especially with four friends together. I did wonder about whether anyone would pick up 4 kids, but you never know. I was so excited to feel the warmth. In my mind it can never be too hot but it can be too cold.

We continued on the road towards Nazareth and Haifa until we turned north to Nazareth. All along our route were small factories, kibbutzim, and palm trees. The rocks became less plentiful and it was clear that the land had been carefully manicured to maximize the usefulness of the rich dark dirt. If memory served me correctly, America Jews were drawn to the kibbutzim for two reasons; the opportunity to live in Israel and the chance to be part of the building of a modern Jewish state called Israel. Each Kibbutz was a collective operation which eventually served the interests of the State of Israel by contributing to its growth which eventually transformed the lunar landscape into a modern, self sufficient country.

Coming to Israel and the West Bank has presented me with the difficult task of reconciling what I learned as a child, what I read in papers and books, and the reality of what I see when I look out the windows of the van in the company of Palestinians. I was asking questions all along our drive and the answers created a great sense of cognitive dissonance. I was born in New York and raised among a large Jewish population. Many of the people I knew throughout my childhood were Jewish and through them I learned about the Holocaust and the subsequent building of Israel. I realized during this trip that the memories of the holocaust were still fresh when I was learning all about Judaism. The expression I learned was “Never Forget” from people who all had family members killed in Europe. While I could not fully appreciate the pain and loss that these people went through it certainly left a strong impression upon me. I was born in 1957 just 12 years after the discovery of the death camps and 9 years after the creation of Israel. As I drove towards Nazareth all of this was going through my head. Instead of thinking about the biblical stories of Palestine, I was viewing the miracle of the post WWII settlers of Israel. I was also quickly learning the reality of being a Palestinian inside the land formerly called Palestine and renamed Israel in 1948. One of the people in my group was telling me that his father lived in Palestine prior to 1948. He lived in East Jerusalem which remained untouched until the 6 day war in 1967. At that point, Israel created buffer zones between itself and its enemies which sought to remove it from the face of the map. Unfortunately, this instantly created a “hostile” group of people within the borders of Israel – the group called Palestinians.

My host, a Palestinian, told me that everything was politically driven. I learned that the West Bank is divided by letters: A, B and C. The letter “A” refers to the areas which are administered by the Palestinian authority and policed by them as well. These areas were off limits to Israelis. Then there is area “B” which is administrated by the Palestinian authority but guarded by the Israeli military. Finally, there is area “C” which is controlled completely by the Israelis. I learned that Israelis do enter into area “A” and are not troubled, but the same cannot be said for Palestinians entering area “C”. They must receive a visa and the amount of time they can remain in that area is highly regulated. This is how the area called Palestine is bisected. Then there is Israel proper where the movements of Palestinians are even more regulated. Both sides, the Palestinians and Israelis, have their story. I am no stranger to national struggles having lived in the former Yugoslavian republics of Macedonia and Montenegro. The battles of the Ottoman Empire, the Greeks versus the Macedonians, the Muslims versus Christians are still playing out today and Palestinians inside of Israel represents the seemingly mother of all conflicts. But for me, this is just a ride through the Jordanian Valley to Nazareth. I am just enjoying the view and the variability of the land itself. It is so difficult to reconcile my childhood teachings about Israel and the political view which permeate every answer given me by my hosts. I have to respect their view, but I know that a Jew within Israel would have a different response. I guess this is not dissimilar to the United States where conservatives and progressives are unable to agree on most topics.

I finally arrive at my destination, a beautiful hotel in Nazareth atop a large hill with a strong wind cooling down the day. I jump into the pool and swim for 20 minutes. I get out of the pool and place my seat at the edge of the patio which overlooks the valley through which I drove. The sun is in my face and I close my eyes and relax. I try not to think about the political, or the work I have to do the next day, I simply try to think about the fact that I am finally in Israel, the country I have always wanted to visit.

7th July 2009 - Ramallah

There are two types of countries -- ones which have real milk and ones that have boxed milk which does not pass for real milk. I found real honest to "Adonai Eloheinu" milk in Ramallah and that is very good. Thanks to a friend of mine living in Ramallah who directed me to the right place. Life can be so simple!

7th July 2009 - Ramallah

Today I am in Ramallah which is located in the West Bank within the Palestinian territory. When I go to a country where English is not spoken I try to take things very slowly. I walk slower and I try to observe everything around me. I make certain to leave mental bread crumbs so I can find my way back to my hotel and avoid the terror of getting myself completely lost.

It is difficult to ignore the political realities which greet all who come to the West Bank, but today I am just someone who is walking through the streets trying to get a feel of the old city and not interested in the political. I have traveled extensively around the world and my mind instantly compares a country to previous countries I have visited. Walking around Ramallah is not much different than walking through the old parts of Cairo, Istanbul or even Pristina, Kosovo.

Old cities share common traits: crowded sidewalks overwhelmed with street merchants selling anything from fruits and vegetables to the latest DVDs in front of stores which are selling jewelry, food goods, clothing and spices. Every side of every block in Ramallah has a money changer. There is a vibrant fruit and veggie market which was nice to walk through. I wanted to buy grapes and cherries but held back thinking that I might not get a good price. When I was in the middle of the market my senses were a little more alert because I have been warned about walking through the public market areas. But the people I walk past do not care about me, only about getting to where they are going. Clearly some merchants instantly realize that I am not from the West Bank, or even Israel, as they say “Welcome” and ask me to visit their store. Some children also realize I am not one of “them” as they too say “Welcome” as I pass them on the crowded sidewalk. I cut my hair and grew a beard in order to better fit in, but I guess there is no mistaking me for someone other than a foreigner. After I lost my fear of getting lost, I was able to just take things in. I walked past a spice store which literally took my breath away as it overwhelmed me with the aroma of a myriad of spices. It reminded me of Sri Lanka and the old Indian section of Singapore. I walked past a blind man selling cigarettes placed on a tray strapped around his neck and sitting firmly on his chest. I wondered how he knew what he was selling and whether people were nice to him. Children with shopping carts vied for customers, seeking them to help carry their goods back to home. These children were very competitive with each other for business and were clearly not nice to their competitors. An old woman sat on top of a watermelon selling the same. She had a cardboard crate over her head to shield her from the hot sun. Teenage boys tended hot ovens in the bakeries – one made the dough and the other tended to it when it came out of what appeared to be an ancient oven. I could feel the ovens' heat standing 20 feet away from them, and the teenage boys were standing within 2 feet – hard to imagine how hot they must have been. Amidst all of this, cars are driving all around pedestrians and constantly tooting their horns, trying to make forward progress on streets incapable of managing the cars, buses, trucks, motorcycles and the people dodging between all of them to get to the other side of the street. It is a competition to see who has the loudest horn and can beep it the longest. Normally the cacophony would drive me nuts, but today I am simply an explorer in Ramallah and take in all the plentiful sights and sounds.

Sustainability and the New Economic Order

2009-06-23T21:58:00.010-04:00

I am not an expert in either macro or micro economics other than the fact that I studied both at university, and have managed budgets of several million dollars during my lifetime. What I do know well is the concept of sustainability learned from my work overseas on United States Agency for International Development activities. The concept of sustainability stipulates that any activity promulgated by a USAID funded project should, by definition, be sustainable once the USAID mission closes down funding for any particular project. I learned that my concept of sustainability and that of USAID can vary by 180 degrees. My first major lesson in sustainability came in Grenada. The United States decided to provide this poor Caribbean country with a large influx of aid following the “invasion” in October, 1983. It is likely that the United States spent nearly $100m trying to “rebuild” the country in what was our first, of many to come, exercises in “democracy building.” One of the myriad of activities was to build a new road around Grenada and two cross island roads to replace the wholly impassible roadways which had potholes filled with 55 gallon oil drums. Upon my arrival in Grenada, no car was able to drive faster than 10 miles an hour, and even the shortest of trips were painfully slow due to the lack of consistent road surface. Morris-Knudsen (MK), formerly a big player in international development, was hired to build the roadways. MK got to work on this task and the mess and mayhem created was beyond anyone’s imagination who had not worked, or lived, in a developing country. By the time of my arrival in Grenada, I was a seasoned professional when it came to understanding the ways of the developing world. I was not shocked by the roads given how bad the roads were in Asia from which I had only recently moved. I was, however, new to the USAID world and the concept of sustainable solutions. The building of the roads by MK provided me with a lifelong lesson which I like to share with people who are new to development. With the roads freshly completed, and the visit of Ronald Reagan completed, the stormy weather began, and the brand new roadwork was soon chipped away at an alarming rate. The reason you ask? MK had not taken any steps to divert the flow of water under the road into culverts or a sewer system. Within 6 months, the once pristine roads were in tatters. I asked someone at the USAID office why MK had neglected to build water diversion into the new road system and was told the following, “it was not part of their contract.” So MK had bid specifically on building approximately 125 miles of roads and its proposal was selected because it met the USAID specified criteria announced within the request for proposals (RFP) which did not include the diversion of water. MK was selected because they, most likely, provided the lowest cost proposal – no wonder. So there it was, an unsustainable solution staring everyone in the face, yet no move was made to adapt the project on the basis of knowing, without a doubt, that the roads were going to quickly erode away. And they did, rather quickly. Patches were applied, potholes became abundant, and the 55 gallon drums reappeared as the speed limits fell.

Why the lesson in sustainable solutions?

The American economy is in tatters, similar to the roads in Grenada. The Obama administration has gone to great lengths to “fix” the dikes which are springing leaks everywhere. The expression “too big to fail” has become a mantra in Washington, New York and other world capitals. From what I read in my econ classes, the key element which differentiates America from the rest of the world is free enterprise coupled with the chance of failure. It is the risk of failure which often drives people to success. My grandfather had a business which was very successful. His family, immigrants, came to America to build a life girded with a strong desire to succeed or risk failure. There was never the thought of the government coming to the rescue if he did fail. The same is true today with hundreds of thousands of small and medium sized businesses which may fail and will not receive any form of resuscitation. However, AIG, the largest insurance conglomerate in the world is too big to fail. For the past 10 years AIG took on riskier and riskier financial instruments in order to provide value to its shareholders. The U.S. government has stepped into the fray and become the modern day Sisyphus, providing billions, if not trillions of dollars to help companies which are “too big to fail.” While I consider myself a socialist, I am a fiscally conservative socialist who believes that it is not the role of the government to save private sector companies such as General Motors, Bank of America or Bear Stearns. In the world of international development, one must create a sustainable project or accept failure and realize that “all the king’s horsemen couldn’t put Humpty Dumpty together again.”

It is odd that USAID is constantly stressing sustainable solutions while the head of our government is supporting non-sustainable, batten-down-the-hatches and be-prepared-to-take-on-water solutions. What happens if these measures to stave off the economic failure of America do not succeed? What is the fallback plan? Would it not have been wiser to have allowed companies, who made stupid mistakes and risked it all on the bottom line, to fail? Would our economic institutions and business sector be stronger had we allowed these companies to fail? What is the price of failure? The unemployment rate would probably skyrocket beyond the present 10% level. Michigan and California would fall into whatever the equivalent of Chapter 11 is for a state, but, in the end, perhaps a few years from now, wouldn’t the American economic footing be better and more sustainable? I recognize that I say all of this at the risk of being called a conservative, but I am certainly not that. We are not building sustainable solutions. Are we, as a government, simply “buying" our way out of failure only to feel the full brunt at some point down the line? My concern is that Obama might become the Jimmy Carter of the 21st century. Jimmy Carter came into office when inflation and interest rates began to skyrocket. While he is one of the greatest statesmen of our time – he did bring together Sadat and Begin to create a peace accord which stands today between Egypt and Israel – he ignored the economy during his presidency and, as a result, gave us only 8 years of a democratic presidency during the last 28 years. If Obama is not on top of this economic crisis, and he is unable to make it over that last wave – think of The Perfect Storm and that very last wave which sank the Andrea Gail – and this will likely usher in conservative leadership for another three decades. I did not like Ronald Reagan at all, but he did say one thing which remains as true today during the presidential candidacy debates with Jimmy Carter – “It’s the economy!”

Americans have put up with two simultaneous wars and elected the first minority candidate to the presidency, a progressive who represents a real chance for change, but once the middle class of America fails economically they will vote for anyone who promises to get them out of the morass. While Obama inherited a nasty mess from George W. Bush who will likely go down in history as our worst president, he may be the next Jimmy Carter and some nameless Republican will ride in on a white horse to save the day.

I travel all over the world and the United States, and see a lot of roads with potholes which need fixing. Whoever resolves the financial crisis must remember to design and implement a water diversion solution.

The Twitter Oxymoron: Isolated Connectedness

2009-06-19T10:19:00.005-04:00

I was on assignment in Albania for 3 months at the end of 2008. I had been to Albania a number of times before, so it was not new to me. My assignment was an extension of the work I had done in neighbouring countries such as Macedonia and Montenegro related to telecommunications. While I was technically assigned to work within the Ministry of Education I was, in actuality working for the benefit of the Deputy Prime Minister and his boss. The goal was to design an approach to provide 2800 schools with Internet access, and determining the best model to accomplish this goal. Unfortunately for me, the assignment was not going well for a number of reasons most of which were out of my control. I found myself 6 time zones away from the East Coast and all alone. I decided to break my sour mood by writing stories about Albania and tweeting them to my Twitter group of about 500 people. I tried not to let on how bad things were going, but I found solace in being connected to a group of people for whom I could post stories about my everyday life in Albania -- after all, not many people get to Albania. I did not receive any return tweets so I wrote a specific tweet out of sheer desperation basically stating that tweeting was like the tree which falls in a forest when no one is there to see it fall. I felt alone in Albania and I was using Twitter as a wall against which I could throw my observations but no one responded. The following day there were at least 15 messages awaiting me letting me know that my tweets were being received and that I should continue to share my stories and pictures from Albania. While it didn't make my job any easier, it did replenish some of my optimism and spirit.

Since returning from Albania I have met some of those people with whom I share a Twitter bond. I enjoy meeting people who I either follow, or follow me. But here is an observation about Twitter and Facebook. When I was in Albania, my use of Twitter did not come at the price of not spending time with someone in the flesh -- someone with whom I have a real interactive face to face relationship. On the other hand, when I use Twitter in the United States is does mean that I am not interacting with the people around me and that is a choice that can bring with it unintended consequences. I fully admit that I love Twitter, and I use Twitter every day and worse, I feel a sense of loss when I am not posting a message, or even more, every single day. I love finding articles and sharing them within my group on Twitter and Facebook plus I love writing blogs of all lengths. The truth of the matter is that I find it difficult to reconcile the time commitment I give to all of this. I am keenly aware of how Twitter is playing a significant role in making people aware of the riots in Iran; the earthquakes in China and Italy; the improvement it brings to many businesses, NGOs and governments. I can honestly say that I get “it” but it is no doubt that unless we make a living at "selling" social media solutions or we simply have nothing more urgent in our lives then we must stipulate to the fact that Twitter isolates us just as much as it connects us.

A few weeks ago I was sitting in the back of the auditorium listening to a political process at my daughter's school. The candidates for class president and vice president were making their stump speeches which shared many of the same desires. They all spoke about how they would like to have a bit more time each day to spend with their classmates. They wanted to accomplish this by extending the lunch period by 15 minutes and the end of school by 15 minutes. Each candidate also wanted students to be able to use their phones during lunch, and listen to their Ipods during lunch and the 5 minute period between each class. I was struck by the incongruity of their desires -- they want more time to be social yet, at the same time, they want to be able to use the tools which would isolate them from each other. It is fortunate that the school is unlikely to change its ways and acquiesce to the "demands" of the rising 8th graders. I don't want my daughter to be isolated from the children around her. She needs that social interaction in order to become a more mature and loving person. It is interesting to see how technology is used by young, and old, to distract both from social interaction.

I am writing this passage because I had the extreme pleasure of listening to a presentation made at the 140 Character Conference by Laura Fitton (@Pistachio), founder, oneforty inc. and co-author of Twitter for Dummies. Pistachio was one of the first people I followed and she shared with us a very compelling story about her love affair with Twitter. She recounted that she went through some very difficult times and that her Twitter friends provided comfort to her during three very difficult weeks in her life. It was then that I was struck by the incongruity of Twitter. She found solace from her Twitter mates, some who even came to her and lent her support. But what did Pistachio give up in order to develop those relationships with people near and far? I intend no slight to Pistachio at all, I am just trying to make a point about Twitter specifically, and technology in general that it creates the oxymoron of isolated connectedness. I am as guilty as anyone else who spends time on social networking sites, perhaps even more given the extensiveness of my participation. Just other day my son was sitting next to me using his laptop to access Facebook as I was using mine to access Twitter. Am I a bad influence? Am I a neglectful father? I think that the next time I find myself doing this I will close my computer and see whether the two of us can actually communicate in real time rather than through emails and IMs.

When "Friends" are Forever

2009-06-08T18:26:00.004-04:00

I was driving my car running some things through my head, one of which was an informational dump from someone I knew 35 years ago. I was so intent on parsing it through my brain that I turned off the radio, closed the windows, turned on the AC and just thought about what she had done, in a single message, and what it made me realise. We live in a moment in time when it is possible for us, those who are over 40 to reconnect with anyone we ever knew if they have left some type of cyber-trail. What makes this so unique, is that our children will not have an issue with this because they leave bread crumbs everywhere they go and it is not an oddity for them to be fully connected to people around them be they friends, foes or otherwise. I located an old friend just today who used to fly me around the San Francisco region in a Cessna 150 as long as we split the cost of aviation fuel which was all of $3.50 at the time per flight. I asked her to friend me and the jury is still out on whether she will friend me back. So I live with the anxiousness of whether she will, and then wonder what I do next. How does one go about bridging a 33 year gap and then add to it that we were more than just friendly acquaintances – I am left totally discombobulated. Will she wonder whether I am trying to reconnect with her? What will her husband think if she has a husband? Will my first message be "So Anthea, what's been happening since the last time we flew to Monterey Bay?

I pity people who have accounts on all the various social media sites because they are in constant discovery of "new" old friends who may, or may not connect with them. So as I was driving, I was thinking about the note from Joanne detailing what has happened to her life since we last saw each other and said our seemingly last goodbye. She was able to distill her life into four very neatly ordered paragraphs covering her parents, marriage, children and professional life. Oh, and a final note saying "I am an obnoxious know-it-all, but I think I was like that even when you knew me." So now what? Once you open yourself up to another person online, do you simply dump your life details and move on to the next person? Do you meet them somewhere for lunch or dinner? Do you aggregate the demand and set up a reunion type event for multiple people? Who writes the playbook about this kind of stuff? What is proper etiquette?

Back to my children who will, of course make non-cyber based friends, but it is more likely than not that they will remain cyber-connected with no end in sight as long as Facebook et al remains a vital application. What happens if Facebook suddenly dies, and with it we lose all those cyber-based connections? While that seems unimaginable, old technology is constantly displaced by new killer apps. Someday the IPhone will seem as crude as those cell phones we see in movies from the 1980s. When I graduated high school during ancient times relationships ended, that was it! We went off to college, at least I did, and made new friends, and when college was over, I went to graduate school and made new friends leaving behind the old. I left graduate school and moved overseas and made new friends. Along the way there were people I really missed, but life was, at least to me, a process of moving forward and never looking back. Facebook, Myspace, Linkedin, Google, and an entire cacophony of cyber-tools make it so one never ever really has to leave anyone behind. It used to be expensive to make a telephone call and reconnect but now we have Skype and you can reach anyone anywhere for virtually no cost at all. We live in a connected world except for those who eshew technology - the luddites.

The fact is that our children, let's say people 30 and under, have lived in a world where computers and connectivity and the Internet have been as ubiquitous as bicycles, walking to school and writing letters and mailing them were to us. Remember what we thought of someone whose family didn't own a TV set? They were odd and more than likely shunned, or at the least considered strange. No child today between the age of 10 and 30 can really be without a computer because without the requisite technological skills, they will be held back professionally. So my generation is the last one which is able to use the excuse that we didn't grow up with a computer and society takes pity on us. I honestly hear the following within IT circles - "just wait 10 years and they will all be gone." When we are all gone, and out of the game, everyone will know how to use a computer, understand social media, be able to remain connected with every single person they have met throughout their lives but will they be able to communicate on a human level? I can see the future, "Have my bot contact your bot and schedule a date for when we can meet."

In closing this discussion, let me make something perfectly clear. I love the ability to reconnect with people from my past. I have been very fortunate in reconnecting with people who really played a significant role in the past. My concern is what happens to the 90 percent of people who friend you and did not play a significant role in your past. What do you say to those people, the ones who played a minor walk on role in your life so many years ago? Do you not accept their offer of "friending" on Facebook? Do you simply leave them hanging? As someone who was an outsider way back then I tend to accept every invite because one can never have too many friends in a cyber world.

The Future of Twitter - 10 Ways Twitter Will Change American Business - TIME

2009-06-04T15:54:00.001-04:00

The Future of Twitter - 10 Ways Twitter Will Change American Business - TIME

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Twitadvocacy and Moe's Southwestern Grill

2009-05-22T15:27:00.004-04:00

It started when I ate at Moe's SouthWestern Grill for the first time. I noticed that by the end of the meal we had a baseball size collection of aluminum foil used to cover each of the items we purchased. My son was playing with it and we threw it across the table a couple of times. It came time to leave Moes and we disposed of the other garbage and then the foil baseball. I decided that I liked Moe's because it was good food, it was inexpensive, and I was able to have my kind of burrito without all the mess which usually accompanies a more traditional burrito. We went back, and once again we were left with a ball of foil and I decided to call Moe's corporate headquarters and ask them about their recycling policies. I went to their website and found out that Moe's is a franchise operation, I figured that out actually before seeing the site, but my suspicions were validated. I called once and left a message. I called the next day and left a message. I called a third time and spoke with a woman who said that she had never been asked to respond to a question about recycling and would call me back. She never did.

I went to Moe's several times after calling and then I decided to jump into action using Twitter as my advocacy tool. I established a new Twitter account @MoesSouthWest and used the Moes logo as my background and a different Moe's logo for my avatar. I then type a few messages using the best hash tags such as #moes and #recycle and finally #obama just in case. I used my regular account to do similar tweets and then also made a point of explaining this action on Facebook. I used an excellent programme called Hootsuite which allows you to write tweets from one, or more accounts, at the same time. Twitter and Hootsuite really helped me in my effort to make a point about the waste of tinfoil and at the same time ask people to either leave the foil on top of the garbage can or take it home and recycle it.

In less than 24 hours I received a Twitter friend request from Dan Barash • Director, Research & Development, Moe's Southwest Grill. After accepting his invite, he did a direct message to me saying that he wanted to speak with me. We connected on the phone and he spent the next 30 minutes telling me about how he is the person responsible for planning green packaging for the Moe's food line. He told me that he contacted the PR folks at Moe's to let them know about my messages and told them that he would reach out to me in Twitter.

Dan explained that since they are a franchise centric operation that it would take time before green is adopted throughout all of the stores. Each store must decide how to provision its offerings and those are purchased from Moe's corporate operations. The cost of going green would add to the bottom line which means that each store has to choose to either “eat the costs” for going green or raise the prices to cover the costs. The latter option seems more likely, but it is a difficult balance right now given the present economy. Moe's does provide a low cost and mostly healthy meal option for people like me who have children.

Dan Barash asked that I be patient and I said that I would be somewhat patient, but in the interim I would still tweet messages to my group asking them to “Take the Foil Home.” I said that it was unlikely that many people would follow my request and Dan disagreed saying that Twitter does have the power right now to inform people into a collective and bring about consensus.

The power of Twitter evidenced itself within 24 hours and it showed that people are using Twitter to search on very specific subjects, in the case of Dan Barash, he looks for anything related to Moes. The other element less obvious was my ability to grab the @MoesSouthWest Twitter name and use it to support my goal,

Simple Concept Which Can Reap Great Rewards

2009-05-13T23:03:00.006-04:00

At the risk is mentioning the T word, I have an idea which will make government, especially local and county officials, more accessible to the people they represent - Twitter. I know that Twitter is an overly discussed topic these days but the fact of the matter is that it can play a significant role in changing the political process for the better. It can help restore a little faith in our political institutions with a simple 140 character return message letting the sender know that his concern has been received and acknowledged or if possible resolved.

I attended a conference this week called "Tech Policy Summit" and had the pleasure of meeting the former mayor of Arcata, CA, a place near and dear to my heart as it is the town where I attended Humboldt State University and received my Masters Degree in 1983. Although Ms. Stewart, the ex-Mayor had heard of Twitter, she had not used it, and had not really been exposed to it enough to know what it could do for her. I explained the political imperative and bet that the present mayor did not have a Twitter account. Neither the mayor or the city council had a Twitter account, but the Ice Cream store did. This is the exact revelation I was hoping to highlight - someone in the ice cream shop saw the role that Twitter could play in the sales and information cycle while the mayor and city council obviously did not.

The list of congressman and senators using Twitter and Facebook is expanding as the new Administration shows how Web 2.0 tools can improve political efficacy. The Obama campaign, like no other campaign before it, saw the strength of using the Internet and applications such as Twitter, Facebook, texting and email to target their message and adapt their outreach rapidly three steps ahead of the the McCain campaign.

The message to all mayors and city councils around America should be clear - your constituents - especially those familiar with technology, want to communicate with you. Even if your city adopts a single account similar to what Comcast and many other companies have done, it should be done as quickly as possible. Adapt or run the risk of falling out of favor with constituents who will only be more and more comfortable with messaging technologies as time moves on.

Constituents want to know that someone is listening to them and paying attention to their complaints. I used to work for a county supervisor in Santa Clara responding to constituents' letters. Snail mail is out. The generation which pushed Obama forward into the presidency is the most likely to use Twitter, Facebook and Email. This group will judge their representatives by how tech-savvy they appear to be. The message is the messenger and Twitter is the easiest way for every mayor and city council member to show that they are tech-aware and willing to respond to the needs of the electorate.

Thanks for reading. Find out more about me at www.glennstrachan.com

Southern California and Changing Realities

2009-03-28T14:19:00.003-04:00

I love Southern California, in particular I love its quirkiness and the people who express themselves through their clothing and habits. For instance, where else in America would you see a 50+ year old male riding a skateboard wearing board shorts, a goatee, and a plaid shirt, untucked AND slip on white sneakers. You may consider this a unique event, but in SoCal this is the look. It is an adaptation of the Cholo look (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cholo) mixed with the SoCal laid back lifestyle. Oh, I forgot the ubiquitous sunglasses which one can wear inside, or out. I am not making fun of this at all -- I love seeing it but at the same time I have been away from SoCal long enough to know that it is also an isolated style. If you look around, you see people of all ages trying to look as cool and chic as possible. Some might suggest that SoCal is full of people who suffer from "arrested teenager syndrome."

It is one thing to feel young and to do things which make you feel healthy and connected to a youthful way of life. It is another thing to never grow up. I wonder what the men have done to be able to ride their beach bikes so cavalierly along the bike path through Huntington Beach looking like they did when they were 18 years old. Is it a uniform they put on which they remove when Monday morning arrives? Do they don the suit and tie and sever all ties to the relaxed look till Friday evening? Are all Southern California just arrested teenagers.

I am no better -- me forever in jeans, a t-shirt and my own ubiquitous Humboldt sweatshirt. Just yesterday I got the usual "hey man, Humboldt has the best weed" comment making it the 7,000th time I have heard those words worldwide. My poor alma mater has such a specific reputation, but in fact, it is the county, home to the tallest trees and the best "weed" which generates the impression.

But back in Huntington Beach I felt like the person who buys a red car and then notices all the other red cars for the first time. So many men with their goatee, tatoos, slip on white Vans (sneakers), shorts and t-shirt. It is a uniform. They are all forever locked into the "it's summer" look. I am jealous in a way. I love the surfer look of long hair and the rest of the uniform, but at some point one must grow up. I feel just as "arrested" in my style as those who I am highlighting.

I actually feel like the kid in Peter Pan who says "I don't want to grow up" or the Velveteen Rabbit wherein the main character wonders whether growing up will hurt? I have always rebelled against dressing up. I eschew wearing a tie or suit jacket. I love wearing bright coloured t-shirts. I love wearing sandals all year round. I did it in Macedonia despite the snow -- I just wore wool socks and sandals.

The fact is, that I saw it so clearly while in HB this visit. It is like men wearing earrings when they are in their 50's or 60's. There is a time and place for everything. I had three earrings when I was in my 20's and early 30's, but to put them in now would seem so inappropriate and out of place. So perhaps it is time for me to drop out of the "I don't care what anyone thinks about what I am wearing" and grow up a bit.

It's sad because what likely happens is that the majority of people on the East coast follow a different pattern and I am being influenced by their lifestyle which does bring with it a more appropriate sense of dress style. So there it is, stuck between the two, totally comfortable in the western style but living among the east coast people.

So that is my dilemma for today. Once I arrive in DC I will most likely just remain locked in my internal mental struggle, or perhaps, I will wear a tie and jacket just to be different.

The times they are a-changin' !

2009-01-22T16:57:00.004-05:00

In 1969, I was in 7th grade, and America was still firmly engaged in a war of hearts and minds in south-east Asia -- Vietnam. The inner cities of America were burning, and two of my heroes had been killed less than 18 months earlier -- Robert Kennedy and Martin Luther King. I had pictures of both taped on the wall of my bedroom. It's not clear to me what made 7th grade a crucible moment in time for me, but I do remember that I was required to stand each morning and recite the pledge of allegiance to the American flag, and that instead I would stay seated and mute. Miss Schmidt, my homeroom teacher, would tell me afterward that I had to stand up and pledge with all the other students. I told her what I told my mother -- I could not recite the pledge since there was no "freedom and justice for all." Miss Schmidt said that it did not matter what my views were, and that if I didn't obey her I'd have to visit the school principal. The next day came and I sat. Miss Schmidt sent me to the principal's office and I did as I was told.

Needless to say I never gave in. Eventually, students were permitted to stand without reciting the pledge. That was something I could live with. Forty years have gone by since I last recited the pledge of allegiance. When there was freedom and justice for all, I vowed I would again.

Two days ago I stood on the Mall in our nation's capital, along with 1.8 million other people, and witnessed the swearing-in ceremony of our 44th president, a man named Barack Obama - an interracial man with roots in Kenya, Iowa and Hawaii. What seemed wholly unimaginable in 1969 has become a reality 40 years later.

I do believe in fate to some degree: the untimely deaths of Kennedy and King pushed America to face head-on its racism and social inequities; on November 4, 2009, America underwent a dramatic paradigm shift when it elected as its president a man in equal measure of Caucasian and African descent over a man who was 100% Caucasian.

It was not until the morning of the inauguration that I decided to be part of the migration to the Mall. I hate being cold and cold it was. I had already attended a presidential inauguration on a very cold day and learned that it was not fun. I decided to go because while many people would witness the event live on TV and be warm, it would be an entirely different thing to be able to witness this moment in person and recount it to my kids (and perhaps grandchildren some day). I also remembered Woodstock and how millions claimed they'd been there when only 200,000 people actually attended the concert.

Getting to the Mall proved difficult given the obstacles put in place to herd all of us toward the west side of the Mall and wedge us between the Washington Monument and the reflecting pool. I arrived early enough to position myself close to a large TV screen hitched to a trailer. There I was, watching the event on a 50' screen, among an ever-increasing sea of humanity. Being part of a jammed huge crowd sheltered me from the biting cold.

I reported the experience as it was happening via Twitter and sent out short messages about what it was like being part of the crowd that day. Once in a while, I would type the number of minutes left in the Bush administration. My nose ran and tears fell onto the small keyboard of my phone. I was overcome by memories of my 7th grade year and the reality of January 20th, 2009. Noon came, and Barack Obama became President. We listened to his speech, no one made a noise, unless it was to cheer something he said. I looked around and most people had tears streaming their cheeks as well. When Obama's speech ended, people started to make their way out of the Mall.

As I journeyed home up Connecticut Avenue, I wondered whether I could now pledge allegiance to the flag. Is there freedom and justice for all in America now?

My mother used to explain that the pledge was a goal rather than a statement. Many people have told me the same thing over the past 40 years. I have taught my children that they are free to do what they feel is right when it comes to pledging allegiance -- however, it is a rare decision they've had to make since most schools don't recite the pledge any longer.

Obama's election is one of the most significant events in my life. Perhaps I will have a change of heart next time I am asked to pledge allegiance to the American flag.

Inauguration Day was a good day and I am glad I witnessed it in person!

The Most Beautiful Picture Ever Taken

2008-12-28T13:36:00.000-05:00

Memories may be ephemeral but photographs are not. Of all the photographs taken during my life, this picture is the most beautiful. It was taken in Giverny, France at the home of Claude Monet. The day started as a rainy, mostly overcast day before we got on the train then the short bus ride to his home. Once there, the sun came out and made it clear to me why Monet loved his home and made it the backdrop for many of his paintings. Every step provided a different view of the property and a potential painting. For those of you who have been there, you know what I mean and for the rest, I encourage you to go. If not for the freeway adjacent to Monet's property, it would have been exactly as it was way back when he lived there.

I have to admit that France is a country of beauty, and of the 95 countries I have been to, it is certainly one of the most amasing. Paris, not only the captial of France, but a world capital, may seem daunting at first, particularly so if you do not have a command of French, but eventually it becomes easy to explore. The Metro system could not be easier, especially if you are able to learn from your mistakes. Dining is to Paris what green and rain are to Ireland. My favourite section of Paris is Montmarte because it presents the greatest variety of shops, cuisine and things to see other than touristy views.

I remember feeling that I would not love Paris, or France before my first trip, but I was wrong - way wrong. From walking along the Seine; being at the top of the Eiffel Tower or sitting in Jardins et Palais du Luxembourg -- there is no one single place in the world which presents a greater array of beauty. I have been fortunate enough to have been to Paris at least ten times and to have seen a great deal of Paris during those visits. I don't know if I will ever return, but I will always have great memories. The best moments in my life.

The Picture I love the Most!

2008-11-12T13:28:00.002-05:00

{Click on photo to enlarge}

This picture was taken during the summer of 1960. Of all the pictures taken during my life, this one holds the greatest meaning and creates the most emotion for me. In the centre is my grandmother and behind her to the right is my grandfather. That's me seated on the paddles of my paternal grandmother's wheelchair, a place I often sat. Despite being 3 years old at the time, I remember everything about this picture as clearly as I can see the letters that I am typing into this screen. My mother is to the left in the picture, my father directly behind my grandmother whom my cousins (to her left in the picture) called "Yankee Mammaw." To the right side of this picture are my Uncle Dick, his two daughters Francy and Sally and my Aunt Sara (Aunt Beckie as everyone else calls her).

This homage is actually to her, but I must explain other things before I get there. According to everyone, my grandfather so loved his wife, that he wrote poems to her until the day she died. He loved her so much that the loss of her left him speechless for nearly a year. Today we would call it depression, but then the adults around me most likely considered it a condition brought on by the loss of his truly beloved wife. Her death came unexpectedly but if the true measure of anyone is the people who love them, then the fact that the church was filled with flowers and overflowing with visitors is illustrative of how much my grandmother added to lives of the people who knew her. She died in 1961.

My Cousin Francy, standing second from the right side of the picture, was the next person to die. She fell asleep while driving her car from Charleston to Columbia, South Carolina in 1969. I can remember the phone call and hearing my father telling my mother that Francy had died. My father headed for the airport to help his brother. My Aunt Sara and my Uncle Dick never overcame the pain of losing Francy. Her marriage imminent, her life under way, she was gone so suddenly and my aunt, to this day, still feels the pain.

My grandfather was the next to die in 1976. I have nothing but good memories of him and the his home we simply called Freeport. The home offered me refuge for reasons which my friends already know. My grandfather never seemed to know my name -- instead called me Sonny -- but that never bothered me. He taught me how to fish. I swam on one or the other of his two beaches. I had a boat, we had boats. Freeport offered me sanity in what was sometimes an otherwise insane world. Though my grandfather has been dead for 32 years, his jokes still remain with me and are retold as I meet new people. He loved to make people laugh. I have heard that he never took anything seriously, but, as a kid, what did I know.

The next to die was the person taking the picture, my Auntie May, my grandfather's sister. She died soon after my grandfather and she also loved to tell jokes and laugh. She is part of what made Freeport so wonderful.

The next to die was my mother. Her tombstone reads "She did it her way." That says just about all that need be said about her. Of her three sons, I have the harshest memories which differ from those of my siblings. Time has not yet healed the pain.

The next to die was my Uncle Dick, my grandparents' oldest son and someone with whom I shared a love of family history. He died in 2004, just before the Internet made tracing one's genealogy a simple process. He and my aunt traveled halfway around the world to gather family information while I did the same from my chair and entered the correct connections. He would have loved the Internet. He was a religious man. He won a silver star in World War II and remained in the military for a long time as a reservist. He loved his family -- all of us. I recall standing at his graveside as the riflemen fired three rounds of seven shots. No matter how much I anticipated the popping of the rifles, I still jumped. He is buried next to Francy, his daughter, in a beautiful church cemetery in Columbia, South Carolina.

My Aunt Sara, or Aunt Beckie as everyone except me calls her, is about to die. She is a tall woman and I remember how she towered over me as a child. Even in old age she is tall when she is able to stand, which has became more difficult over the past few years. She is a remarkable woman - highly educated with a PhD. Loves to read. Couldn't stop thanking me during the past few times that I have seen her for getting her a subscription to the New York Review of Books, not to be confused with the NY Times Book Review section. She would make lists of books and ask her daughter, my Cousin Sally, to purchase them before her next trip. It is not clear to me why I am the only person who calls her Aunt Sara but I was never able to convert to Aunt Beckie. Whenever I visited Aunt Sara, she would ask me all about my travels never seeming to grow tired of any of it. During our last visit I asked her if she was bored hearing my stories and she said "Glynn (southern accent added), no one here has very much to say which I haven't heard many times over, so it is such a pleasure to hear your stories of far away places." She is a southern woman, and, although polite to a fault, always willing to express her opinion.

I am on my way to see Aunt Sara who is in a semi-comatose state in Charleston, South Carolina. She may not know that I am there, but I will still talk to her, and perhaps even read the NY Review of Books to her. She has been on death's door before and recovered, but this time, we've been told, she may not. My Cousin Sara, the granddaughter of my Aunt Sara, is by her bedside and I will keep her company. She gave all us all so much in life. When she dies she will be laid to rest next to her husband and daughter.

So, just a few people in the photo remain and are growing old. Hard to believe that I have a memory of an event so clear in my mind that is 48 years old. I recall the heat of the day. I recall being called over to be in the picture. I recall it being snapped and I look at it now and know that, for that moment in time, we were a happy family. My cousins, brothers and I most likely jumped into the water afterward. My grandmother was rolled up the ramp into the house. That night we all ate dinner at the outside table.

<---------------------------------------------------------------------------------->

Dr. Sara (Beckie) Lewis Strachan died peacefully at home after an extended illness. Dr. Strachan, who lived in Columbia for 67 years before moving to Summerville in 1997, was 86.

An avid educator for several decades, Dr. Strachan was Principal of Forest Lake Elementary School in Columbia for 16 years. She received her BA, MEd, and EdD degrees from the University of South Carolina. She was also organizational president of the Reading Association of S.C. Education Association.

During World War II, she interrupted her education to work for the Quartermaster Corps at Ft. Jackson, where she also wrote as the columnist “Suzie” for the Stars and Stripes U.S. military newspaper distributed overseas. It was during this time that she met and married her husband, Colonel Richard C. Strachan.

Dr. Strachan was a passionate story teller, Sunday School teacher, and Bible teacher, as well as an accomplished artist. After her retirement, she and her husband founded Thistledo, Inc., an educational initiative teaching history, art, and literature through the mediums of brass and gravestone rubbings. Their training included technical courses at Cambridge University, University of Durham, and several institutions in Belgium.

Dr. Strachan, a member of the Summerville Presbyterian Church, served as an elder at Eastminster Presbyterian Church and as a deacon at the First Presbyterian Church, both in Columbia. She was a former member of the Board of Visitors of Columbia College, and a charter member of the Suzanna Smith Elliott Chapter of the DAR. In 1980, she was honored as the Volunteer of the Year by the United Way Midlands. She was also a founder and former president of the Robert Burns Society of the Midlands; a founder and former board member of The Women’s Shelter in Columbia; and a founder and board member of the Southeastern Section of the Zane Grey West Society.

Dr. Strachan was born on April 13, 1922, in Greenville, S.C. She was the daughter of Frances Lyles Brock of Newberry County and Edgar Brumitte Lewis of Ridgeway. Dr. Strachan was predeceased by her husband of 60 years and by her daughter, Frances Helen Strachan. She is survived by her daughter, Sally Strachan, her granddaughter, Sara Strachan, and her sister, Betty Sanders.

Albania - A Return Engagement

2008-10-27T14:00:00.000-04:00

I have been to Albania before; my arrival here is a combination of rekindling slightly less than 3 year old memories of Tirana and noticing changes since that time. The first startling difference is that the dilapidated airport has been upgraded and modernized, akin to the airport in Podgorica – perhaps the same person designed the two? The old airport building sits uselessly attached to the new structure and perhaps will eventually be destroyed since it is less useful than when it was in use. The most startling change is the road to and from the airport – it is basically STRAIGHT. Picture the most meandering river you can in the USA and then add gravel, sporadic patches of hardtop and potholes and you will have a rough image of the previous road. I am told that Hoxha built the airport to be circuitous to discourage its use and the same can be said for the airport itself. It was politically correct at the time to stymie the airport's access and use.To get a ticket out of Tirana during the “bad days” you had to leave your family behind to assure your timely return.

I made my way into town and found the apartment that my friend had located for me just slightly on the side of town but close enough to walk everywhere. In three years all the buildings which had been skeletons were now fully completed and mostly beautiful buildings. The streets are all paved, which was NOT the case three years ago either. The mayor of this town is a socialist, but a good socialist in the non-communist way – kinda like me. He wants the best for the people and he may soon become the Prime Minister. For now he is responsible for making people happy in Tirana. He is the mayor who bought bright coloured paint and encouraged residents to paint everything that stood, changing the gray scale into a Miami-ish styling. Unfortunately car pollution has grayed some of the brightest buildings but Tirana is certainly more colourful than, say, Podgorica, Belgrade and most certainly Bucarest or Skopje.

Internet is still in its infancy here with most people relying on cafes. I suppose if it were more advanced I wouldn’t be here – I am a wireless hitman. My job is to design a nationwide broadband solution to help Albania advance its development as a nation. The government wants the work completed in time for the elections in early 2010. What the government wants to accomplish in a such a short period of time is ambitious.

I will add more pictures and stories about

Albania

as I travel around the country.

Glenn in an Internet Cafe, Tirana, Albania

My Orginal BLOG FOUND after 10 years

2008-09-12T12:33:00.000-04:00

I wrote this 10 years ago for a company Intranet site - still relevant.

THE MEANDERINGS OF A WAYWARD TRAVELER - Part I

I have a confession to make – I am a passport “stamp-a-holic”. I’ve lived with this problem since early childhood, around the time I received my first passport. During those early days I was able to handle my obsession, but after High School, I was hooked. My behaviour manifest itself in strange bouts of purposeful trip manipulation. Travel agents would book me on direct flights and I would subvert their work by demanding the most stops possible. I actually booked a flight to Kathmandu on Biman Airways JUST so I could get a Bangladeshi stamp in my book with complete disregard for my own personal safety given the safety record of Biman Airways. I once bubbled over in pride the day I received a 20-page extension for my old passport while on a stopover in Bangkok. Even greater pride when I filled up those pages. I also tend to cherish my previous passports like some men cherish old T-shirts with which they are reluctant to part, despite gaping holes. I believe that in some ways I even molded my career around the attainment of passport stamps – International Development. One knows they are obsessed when they try to match stamp colours within their passport….no, I am not really that bad, but it does bring to mind another story.

Undesired Stamp…

I lied. As much as I like to accumulate stamps in my passport, I recently prayed that the great passport God would pass me by during my recent visit to Cuba. I have wanted to go to Cuba all my life driven by an almost weekly statement made to me by my Mother – “Cuba is one of the most interesting and beautiful places in the world”. She spent a good part of her early life there, and transferred her fixation with Cuba to me. I have been working on a project in Jamaica and became familiar with a package deal that flew you to Havana for the weekend. No fuss, no muss I thought. I went to the travel agent and she said that entry into Cuba was safe for Americans because they don’t stamp your passport. DON’T STAMP YOUR PASSPORT – THEN WHAT’S THE REASON FOR GOING? I don’t believe she heard my thoughts and she continued on. She explained to me that technically, Americans can enter Cuba, they just can’t spend any money when they are there. She pointed out that by purchasing their package deal I would avoid spending any money while in Cuba. Made sense to me, but I was still stuck on the Passport stamp thing. “Oh yes, you simply fill out a visa card which they stamp when you enter the country and your passport is safe”. Safe from what I asked? When you return to the United States they will never know you went to Cuba and you will avoid the risk of any penalty.

So off I went to Havana seeking the beauty my mother had spoken about. Upon entry I gave the Visa card instead of my passport and paid no attention to the clerk behind the counter. Within 30 seconds I was on my way to Old Havana. Suffice to say it was a beautiful place, which I will discuss more, at a later time. Sunday came quickly, and it was time to depart. I stood in front of the Immigration official and handed him my papers including my passport. He asked me something, and wrote a number on a piece of paper. I quickly determined that he had written the number ten and a $ sign preceded it. I momentarily asked myself what Fidel would think about such behaviour. I also did not have $10 in U.S. currency, so I shook my head in a negative manner. In less time than you can say $55,000 fine, he stamped page 16 of my U.S. passport. Let’s look on the bright side of this I thought – now I can show people my Cuban passport stamp but then my thoughts went to having to explain the stamp to Customs Officials in Miami. I spent the next few days pondering my fate.

I had it all worked out. If they questioned me in Miami I was going to tell them about how Jack Nicholson, Matt Dillon and Cameron Diaz were in Cuba at the same time. My theory was that I was just a small fish by comparison. My next idea was to place little papers between each page of my passport in an effort to distract the Customs person. I figured as they began paging towards the page number that matched the birth date of Jose Marti, the savoir of Cuba, (page 16) that a number of slips would fall out and they would simply pass over the Cuban stamp. That was the best thought I could come up with while flying towards Miami. The flight between Kingston and Miami is 585 miles or just over 1 hour in duration – too short for coming up with anything original. I decided to just face the music if caught and say I had a great time.

I arrived in Miami at 1:10 P.M. – so did seven other planes. The passage way to the Customs was jammed with a sea of humanity. I saw the blue line – you know that line that Americans are supposed to follow when they return to the U.S. I followed it until an official was yelling to every American the following advice – “If you have a Passport open to your picture – hold it up to your face – walk through the gates”.

Needless to say, I was the American with the smile that went from one ear to the other.

Has Anyone Seen My Passport???

The Meanderings of a Wayward Traveler – Part 2

I love airports!

There, I said it loud, and I said it proud. I realize that this probably places me in distinct minority group of perhaps 50 people in the entire world, but I just can’t help myself – I was raised to love airports.

When I was a young boy, let’s say 35-40 years ago, when flying was not as commonplace, my father was constantly going off to the airport to fly somewhere. At the time, all I knew was that this was a special place and that I enjoyed being there. I am the first to admit that traveling with my parents wasn’t the most enjoyable pursuit, but traveling on an airplane made up for it, and more.

As I grew older, and I began to fly on my own, I found myself looking forward to spending time in the airport before the flight. I still love finding a seat that permits me to watch people come, and go. I used to go to gates where the plane was scheduled to fly to some far flung destination – London, Delhi or Hong Kong – just to see the people getting on the plane and imagining going where they were going. To this day I enjoy seeing gateway reunions where everyone is genuinely happy. I also feel the pain of the people being departed from, as they strain for that last glance of a loved one.

Most of the time, I just enjoy doing NOTHING.

At this present point in life, I feel that I never have any free time – what with two young children, a full-time job – yada yada yada. So any opportunity for relaxation is a Godsend. As I write this, I am sitting on a plane bound for the West Coast. In my head I calculate 1.5 hours of airport time plus 7 hours of travel time. I know that this next line is going to seem odd, but that’s 8.5 hours to do whatever I want to do without feeling like I should be doing something else.

Oddly enough, there are people who hate airports for the exact reason I love them. They wait as long as possible before departing for the airport leaving just enough time to check in and board the plane. When on the plane, they can’t wait for the journey to be over. When they get off the plane they wait for the luggage to arrive on the carousel with the same level of patience that most people have sitting on the beltway during rush hour. After getting the bags they are ready to attack the rental car agent until finally they are seated in the car and the airport is but a fleeting image in the rear view mirror. I have embellished this characterization somewhat, but not by much.

I Love Flying Too

During the past 25 years I am certain that I have flown on at least 1000 flights, if not more. I once had a job that flew me to work at 6:10 a.m. in the morning and returned me the same day at 6:50 p.m.. I did that 3 days a week for 7 months. That totals at least 168 flights. I became so familiar to the flight crew that they called me by my first name. The airline had a 750 minimal frequent flyer mileage guarantee which for me garnered 126,000 miles with a whole bunch of double, and then triple mileage bonuses. Needless to say, I had a lot of flights courtesy of Continental Airlines. The point of all this minutiae is to point out that I am somewhat of an expert when it comes to airports.

I have also learned a few tricks that sometimes really do work.

Upgrades

One time I was standing behind someone in line who was totally angered by his travel experience. There was one attendant at the ticket counter, and this person went on for at least 15 minutes. When he left, I stepped forward, and began to console the ticket person. I pointed out that I am never in a rush and tend to take things as they come when I am at an airport. This person gave me a First Class upgrade without my even asking. You’re now asking, “Was this an isolated case?”. Next time you go to an airport, look at all the frenzied people around you. This condition becomes especially true when there is bad weather somewhere in the United States (9 months of the year). It is not rare to find yourself behind someone who is upset. A few kind words will go a long way – I know because I have been upgraded to First Class more times than you can imagine.

Free Tickets

When I travel I also stay close to the gate ticket counter. WHY? I want to be the first one in line when they announce that the flight has been overbooked and they are seeking volunteers to either take a later flight, or stay over another night and leave in the morning. In about a week I will be traveling for free, with my family, to Southern California using tickets provided to me by USAIR. Give it a try.

When will it be my turn?

It has been suggested that flying is far safer than driving in your own car. Let’s just say the odds are 20 million to 1 that you will be in a plane crash. Does this mean that every time I fly the odds remain the same, or should I divide 20 million by 1000?? There have been two times when I thought the odds had caught up with me.

Carriacou – this is a tiny little island just off the coast of Grenada, in the West Indies. While working in Grenada, I was required to fly to Carriacou at least once every two weeks. The only planes that flew to this island had either 4 or 6 seats. This day, I was on the 4 seater version and the weather was somewhat questionable. Soon after taking off, the weather became downright awful. The pilot decided to press on. Imagine the worst roller coaster ride in the world and then triple the feeling your stomach goes through when you have that weightless experience. I remember looking at the pilot and noticing that he was sweating – not a good sign. We finally sighted our objective and approached the landing strip. I had already exhausted all my prayers and entered into many bargains in exchange for not crashing. As the plane finally found itself over the landing strip, and about to put down, a wind shear dropped us, and the plane, the final 20 feet. We landed with a real thud, and ruined the landing gear but we were safe. The pilot turned to me and said “Welcome to Carriacou”. I stayed the night rather than return the same day. I later saw the Pilot hoisting a beer recounting is worst flight ever.

Chengdu – I once caught a flight from Shang Hai to Chengdu using CAAC, the domestic airline of China. As I boarded the plane I saw that it was a Boeing 707, the oldest commercial jet in service. Since I have never flown on a 707, I thought it would be fun. Little did I know.

In certain countries within Asia, unlike in America, people are allowed to bring anything on-board – and they do. On this flight, there were chickens, pigs and even a goat, bound by its legs. I could deal with the animals, but they were all located in front of the emergency exits – not a good idea in any country. I forget the actual estimated time for the flight, it might have been 4 hours. All seemed fine towards what I thought to be the end of the flight. The plane began to descend, the wing tabs were extended, and the wheels were lowered. They are all events that take place prior to landing. The catch with this flight is that we did for over one hour. Worse than dragging the wheels, and everything else, was the fact that the plane kept descending than climbing. This happened over and over again. What you must know about Chengdu is that it is located in a mountainous region and the airport itself is 5200’ above sea level. My thoughts centered around a belief that we were going to crash into a mountain. I said my prayers, I even wrote out some notes just in case we did go down.

We finally did land and I was able to find out what had happened. The airport radar and landing systems had broken down, and the pilot was trying to find the airport without benefit of any support. One of the bargains I made with God during this flight was that I would never again fly inside of China. I left Cheng Du by train bound for Ghangzhou a week later.

Being a Teenager in 2008 - How Technology Can Be Destructive

2008-07-31T09:38:00.000-04:00

Being a teenager in the 1970’s was not a joyous time in my life but being a teen-ager today is being made even more difficult through the introduction of technology. This is an odd statement coming from me since I make my living through the implementation of technology, but the teenagers of today have found new ways to make each other ever more miserable through the use of social networking websites such as Facebook and Myspace not to mention text messaging, instant messaging and email.

I monitor my children’s use of all the above technological tools which I must admit is an exercise in walking a fine line between allowing my children the freedom to express themselves and being aghast by the use of abbreviated language transmissions and the sometimes horrendous use of foul language.

Back in the 70’s we didn’t have technology to spread a message about someone far and wide except for the rumors that spread from person to person and which were, by and large, mostly false. Today, teens have a myriad of tools with which they can spread an ill conceived message about someone else in about the same time it takes me to unlock my front door and step to the other side. There is no need for teens today to confront someone who is a little different than they – it is easier for them to spew their contempt for someone different by simply posting a negative message on Facebook for others to see, or to add commentary.

I recently saw an online attack where a group of kids on Facebook made some very derogatory comments about another child, who was also part of the discussion. Surprisingly, the kids who made these comments are considered good kids at their schools and in their neighborhoods, but get them in a group, in a semi-anonymous environment, and they soon become something quite different. I give credit to the kids who stated that the discussion was unfair and had gone too far, and in the end the ones being derogatory apologized, but the damage was already done. The child who was the target of the attack feels even less secure in a period of life where insecurity abounds.

Being a teenager has always been difficult. Those who are not “in” are “out” as the expression goes. The problem now is that it is much easier for teenagers to use technology to drive in that point. I made a copy of the discussion mentioned above, and my initial thought was to send a copy to the parents of each child who participated in this unfortunate discussion, but instead I thought it better to write this commentary and encourage all parents to really look at what their children are saying online to other people. Technology has permitted today’s teenagers to “swarm” a victim – essentially create a “virtual” gang, which is just as harmful as physical bullying could be, if not more so.

Observations from West Africa - Broadband is Coming

2008-07-22T07:35:00.000-04:00

Link to Event:

http://bciu.org/wip01/selected_program_by_region_or_country.asp?continent=0&country=0&currentorpast=current&eventsorprograms=programs&ProgramIDNumber=7

My trip to Ghana was unexpected and I was given a couple of days to prepare for a 5800-mile flight to Accra: I was asked to participate in the West Africa ICT Road Map to Opportunities Conference. Since I have spent much time in Eastern Europe over the past 4 years, this trip presented itself as an opportunity to catch up on the changes which have been taking place in Africa since my visit last year to Senegal. To say the least, I was excited by what I heard, albeit with a measure of caution, since ministers of telecommunications tend to present the most rosy and forward thinking speeches but often fall down when it comes to the actual execution of a plan. Senegal comes to mind as having been on the verge of opening up its Internet Gateway for years yet never really getting there due to a lack of political will. This time, however, the driving force motivating countries to step up in their development process is mobile telephony and its rapid growth—the fastest in the world—combined with a desire for broadband connectivity which it is hoped will lead to the economic expansion of those countries which adopt broadband capacities. In short, ministers see the utility of broadband connectivity as a precursor for economic growth. Oddly enough, in America, Congress and most state legislatures seem to have missed making this connection —in particular, how broadband can be used to help the most remote people in the most remote counties in each state. So while each state muddles along and cobbles together a “plan” for broadband connectivity, national telecom ministers in Africa and Eastern Europe recognize that a nationwide strategic plan must benefit all zones rather than only the biggest cities.

The overwhelming message I took away from the conference is that ministers of communications from each of the attending West African countries agreed that they must modify their national environments to encourage the growth of broadband services and realize similar economic gains seen in the more developed world. The General Secretary of the International Telecommunications Union (ITU), Hamadoun Toure, gave a heartfelt speech imploring ministers to “open up” national telecom sectors to competition and reduce the costs associated with accessing the Internet. Like most people in the telecommunications sector, Mr. Toure believes that by doing so, prices will fall and economic gains will be realized once these steps are taken.

The Nigerian Minister of Telecom made a similar plea to his fellow ministers and pointed out that, since Nigeria opened its telecom sector in 1998, its wireless telephony use has grown from .04% to nearly 40% as of 2008. Approximately 50 million Nigerians now own a mobile phone. With the broadband sector in Nigeria growing at an exponential rate, the Minister said there are plans to provide complete broadband coverage by 2015. Nigeria certainly appears to be the most pro-active and progressive country of those attending the conference, in that it appreciated quickly the value of affordable mobile telephony and broadband access.

Cisco’s Robert Pepper gave the best presentation of data and highlighted an absolute relationship between an open telecom market with a strong regulatory enforcement and government support for the growth of ICT through direct and indirect grants. He also illustrated how most of Africa falls into the bottom third of 150 nations he measured for government support of broadband services. Even the most progressive nations in Africa (South Africa, Nigeria, Kenya, Egypt and Rwanda) trail countries like Moldova, Macedonia and the Ukraine. Dr. Pepper went on to describe the relationship between the presence of broadband and the upswing in the economic growth of a country. He showed that when a country puts 5% of its GDP toward the support of ICT activities it doubles its standard of living within 14 years. Countries that put only 1% of their GDP in ICT activities will take 42 years to double the standard of living. Dr. Pepper closed by saying that not only do countries need to open up their telecom sectors, they need to view ICT as important to infrastructure as roads, water, electricity and waste control.

ITU’s General Secretary pointed out that while Africa represents 12.5% of the world’s population it accounts for less than 2% of the world’s Internet traffic. At the same time, Africa is experiencing the highest growth rate in mobile telephony in the world. The General Secretary stated that this is a measure of the willingness of countries like Kenya, Nigeria and Senegal to open their markets to competition and enable low cost procurement of mobile phones and services.

This event was full of presentations showcasing each country and encouraged public-private partnerships between West African countries and American companies. Ambassador David Gross from the Department of State served as one of the hosts for this event. His goal was clear—the development of partnerships between American and African corporations doing ICT work. Ambassador Gross went to great lengths to illustrate how the African telecom and ICT sectors are now vibrant compared to what they were was just 5 years ago. He attributed the change to the activities undertaken by the ITU’s General Secretary, a Malian who rose through the ranks of the United Nations and eventually accepted his present assignment with ITU. Ambassador Gross said that ITU is the agency most responsible for encouraging the growth of telecom and ICT within the United Nations, and that no one like Toure has led ITU with a greater desire to help Africa “catch up” to the rest of the world. In fact, each minister praised Toure for his endless energy to represent the needs of all African nations. The biggest issue with which ITU’s General Secretary is presently dealing is the creation of new and expansion of already laid submarine fiber networks surrounding Africa and landing rights in each coastal country. Both he and Ambassador Gross expressed a strong desire for each coastal country to work with its landlocked neighbors to assure the creation of a “tentacle of fiber covering all of Africa.”

None of the information shared during this conference is new news. In 2001, the head of Cisco, John Chambers, noted that “(t)here is a direct correlation between high speed Internet access, productivity and increased standard of living.” The following article a Cisco press release dated January 26th, 2001 highlights Mr. Chambers’s thoughts from the Davos 2001 conference:

Cisco’s CEO and president John Chambers joined world leaders this week at the World Economic Forum in Davos, Switzerland, to discuss the future of the world's economies. Chambers shared his vision regarding how companies, countries and people can increase their productivity by harnessing the power of the Internet. Chambers explained that at the current rate of three percent productivity growth, the U.S. standard of living will double in less than 25 years. If we increase productivity to five percent, we can double our standard of living in 15 years. "It's your choice," said John Chambers. "We have the opportunity to double productivity and the standard of living in one generation, or two." He used the U.S. as an example, but explained that this applies to all countries.

Chambers also reminded world business and government leaders that just as businesses have benefited from great Internet-based productivity gains, societies can also benefit. He believes that the Internet is as fundamental as any utility, like water or electricity, and that access to the Internet is key to increased productivity. "The Internet exceeds the combined productivity of telephony, transportation and electricity," said Chambers while in Davos. Through the acceleration of high-speed Internet access, commonly known as broadband, Chambers believes countries can accelerate productivity faster than ever before. In turn, the Internet can improve the standard of living for people worldwide and address the digital and the education divides. Chambers added, "The infrastructure of the future is changing."

Chambers suggested that changing the productivity model is imperative-critical to survival. He highlighted the U.S. 2001 Economic Report of the President which detailed the link between increased broadband deployment and improved productivity within the workplace. The report showed a direct correlation between broadband, increased productivity and increased standard of living. For example, industries using the Internet saw a four percent annual growth in productivity while industries that are not using the Internet have experienced a one percent annual increase in productivity.

Along with increased productivity, countries with more bandwidth will have higher e-commerce activity per capita as they build infrastructure around deploying high-speed Internet connections. In developed countries, where the price of bandwidth decreases, the number of users will increase, adding future economic growth. In the U.S., every one million homes with broadband are expected to contribute $10 billion in economic output based upon research by Gartner Group.

Chambers' message is clear; there is a direct correlation between widespread broadband acceptance and improved productivity, which helps improve the standard of living worldwide and to close the digital divide.

Even though Chambers’ message is not new, it has taken a few years for this message to resonate in Africa. The heads of African nations are beginning to recognize the role that broadband and ICT can play in increasing the standard of living.

So what does this all mean?

Though John Soule advised “Go West, Young Man,” I would offer instead that we should head east. Two regions remain in the world where the build up of broadband services is nascent—Africa and the Pacific Islands. While Central America may only be marginally ahead of both regions, Africa appears to offer the greatest opportunity vis-à-vis ICT. Much of Central America is deregulated and mobile wireless growth has already begun to flatten while Africa is experiencing the highest growth rates in the world. As people in Africa are adapting and adopting mobile telephony, mobile based software solutions are already making their way to the end-user such as micro-finance solutions, bill payment and even a use of SMS by Ghanaian fishermen to determine the market’s rates for the fresh catch of the day.

As each African nation opens its telecom marketplace to multiple mobile operators, there will be a predictable uptake by users as prices fall. To assure the success of non-mobile ICT, a similar event must take place in the broadband sector. Unfortunately, the broadband market is usually controlled by the incumbent wired telephone operator which in turn tends to control the country’s international gateway to the Internet. The expansion of new submarine cables however will upset countries in Africa which have not yet liberalized their telecom marketplace. This is exactly why the ITU’s General Secretary and Ambassador Gross were adamant that each minister must act to open up the national markets to realize the manifold benefits associated with broadband access. As markets open, or even if there is a hint that they will, ICT activities can be designed, implemented, tested and then expand.

The times demand that African countries adapt to new technologies such as broadband and wireless by opening their restrictive telephony markets and make this change soon; many appear ready and willing. While this conference did not end with a flurry of public-private partnership announcements, it certainly crystallized the need for all things “E” and West African countries will need the assistance of NGOs and other private sector partners from the USA.

Senegal - Country 91

2007-08-21T13:08:00.000-04:00

Country 91 is Senegal and many months have passed since my last article and country 90. Senegal itself is quite amazing and Dakar is a constant flash of bright colours on the bodies of very dark skinned people. For those who may not know where Senegal lies on the African continent – it is at the western most point in all of Africa and Dakar is at the most western part of that peninsula. Over one million people live in on a small piece of land. Since I arrived two weeks ago, I am starting to become accustomed to the crazy drivers, bumpy roads, pushy vendors and people sleeping on the streets.

This is my first journey to western Africa where most people speak French and when not speaking that language they are speaking Wolof, the native tribal dialect. Six years of French nearly 35 years ago has provided me with some ability to express myself if not understand what’s being said back to me. Multiple visits to Paris have provided some French language survival skills such as the ability to say “Donnez moi un coca s’il vous plait” and “Merci.” The problem comes when I know a word in French but my brain thinks of the Mandarin Chinese equivalent and that is all I am able to express. The Mandarin I learned was overlaid directly upon the French inside my brain.

As I walk the streets here in Dakar I spend a great deal of time doing what I love most – watching people. Every day women dress in what I would describe as typical African dress --a beautifully colored dress with a matching headscarf. It would be the equivalent of an American woman wearing a ball gown to work. The colors are often jade green or dark brown but then there are the bright pink, red or turquoise gowns that are just stunning when juxtaposed against spectacularly black skin. That is what I have noticed most here in Senegal - the extreme darkness of the skin. Obviously there are lots of people here who are not necessarily Senegalese whose have lighter skin, but my eye seems to catch and then concentrate on those people with the darkest skin. It’s like when you buy a red car and all of the sudden all you notice are red cars. I don’t have dark skin but in the USA you never see such a concentration of jet black people.

Dakar itself is like most cities in the world, overcrowded, lots of pollution, lots of cars going every which direction, but it sits by a beautiful Atlantic ocean which sets it apart from most of the world capitals. The coastline of Dakar is quickly disappearing as hotels and apartments are placed haphazardly without any consideration for urban planning and for the local fishermen and residents who access the sea. I run along the Grand Corniche, a boulevard and main artery of Dakar which follows the sea’s edge and meanders along the northerly direction in Dakar. There are only three beaches along the 4-mile stretch which provide free access to the sea and the rest of the shoreline is controlled by hotels, restaurants or, in the case of the one I frequent, a health club. It is unfortunate that that the most beautiful part of Dakar is being developed at a breakneck pace without much consideration for the future.

Just off the coast of Dakar is the island of Gorée which is the Holy Grail of African slavery; Africans were quarantined here from many countries and shipped to the Americas, Cuba, Jamaica, Trinidad and beyond. I recall seeing an episode of a television show, the Amazing Race, where the contestants were to visit Gorée and place flowers on a statue which commemorates the tragedy of slaves. There was one couple of African descent for whom it was a particularly poignant visit. I am sorry that I am unable to visit Gorée on this trip and hope to return to Senegal at some point and have another chance to see it. This is the port from which the protagonist Kunta Kinte in Alex Haley’s Roots was shipped to Annapolis, Maryland in the US, so I have seen both sides of the journey.

Dakar is a vibrant city with vendors on every street selling mobile access cards, peanuts, coffee, shirts, newspapers, fingernail clipping and filing, shoes and African charms. There are many shops as well but it would seem that there are two levels of commerce within Dakar most likely defined by cost. People don’t make much money here, 1 in 5 earns less than a dollar a day, and Dakar is expensive. I could live on $300 in Macedonia per month and here my $300 lasts 10 days. I quickly learned to purchase sodas on the street to save nearly $1.

There are little creature comforts that every traveler seeks, especially those who spend extended periods of time overseas. For me it is the Herald Tribune and Internet access. If I have access to both I am fine and can endure all the other relative hardships – I say that with tongue in cheek. Unfortunately the Herald Tribune is ridiculously expensive here in Senegal. Aside from always being a day behind, it costs the equivalent of $6 adding to the burn rate on my $89 per diem. Internet access is not cheap either, at least at the hotels which make it a premium item. I was spoiled in Macedonia and Montenegro by the low cost of everything, even the Herald Tribune. Who knew!!

As I prepare to complete my assignment in Senegal and convince the powers that be that ubiquitous access to Internet in the rural locations of Senegal is a necessary element for its development, I realize that it will be a long time before most people will be able to afford it even if it were available.

Senegal is a beautiful country with a rich history. People come here for a vacation which provides a different glimpse of the country than it does for me who came here for work. I would love a chance to see more of Senegal, and perhaps I will another time.

Time for a Change in Life!!

2006-09-30T16:16:00.000-04:00

I can easily recall the exact moment when my life was changed forever!

It was a very nice day in May 2005 sitting on a lounge, basking in the hot Greek sun. Leigh had asked me if I wanted to accompany her and her family on their trip to Halkidiki. For those who don’t know, northern Greece has three peninsulas sticking into the blue Aegean which resemble fingers. People identify which finger they intend to visit. Those who want action - lots of hotels and tourists – will go to the first finger called Kassandra. Those who prefer the quiet and far less developed atmosphere will go to the middle finger called Sithonia. The last finger is reserved for religious believers in the Orthodoxy and within that group they must be male.

Kassandra is very windy on the western side but I was sitting on a lounge located on the non-windy eastern side of the finger and it was heaven as far as I could tell. I woke up early and made my way to the beach to read a book and relax. I hadn’t been to the sea for a few months and I do love the beach, even if it is just a sea without waves – basically a huge lake. After a while Leigh and her daughter came down and join me. Leigh had a camera and took my picture.

About two weeks later is that exact moment when my life changed. Leigh handed me a picture. It was of me that day on the beach in Halkidiki. I looked at the image in the picture and immediately realized that I had to change my life. I had become a middle aged over weight white male. I was shocked. From that moment I set a course towards getting back to a reasonable weight – 175 pounds. For the official record, I weighed 209 pounds.

I set forth with a plan – or should I say a concept of what I would do. I decided to RUN. I was playing European football at the Army stadium in Skopje and it was surrounded by a track. I also decided to drink diet sodas instead of sugared ones. I made a plan to eat better and to cook more food at home instead of eating at the many restaurants of Skopje. I also resolved to take vitamins and simply lead a healthier life.

Two days after seeing the picture I went to the track to start running. What a laugh that was. I ran half way around the track and then walked the remainder of the lap. I could feel the loose fat and atrophied muscles moving up and down as I lumbered my way stride by painful stride. I actually wondered in my head whether I was so far gone that a heart attack was just around the corner. That first day I ran a total of two laps and I was a complete wreck.

I returned the next day determined to make a go of this change in my life. I resolved to go further everyday, if only a tiny bit. I also decided to do sit-ups. I would do 100 sit ups every day I ran. After two months of running I could tell there was a difference in my body but I also began to find that running was incredibly boring. Before running I would resolve to think about a certain thing and work it out. I would think about Macedonia Connects and the work that needed to be done. I would process the hell out of one subject each day I ran.

I went back to the USA in August and I bought an Apple iPod. I thought it would help me run. When I returned to Macedonia I ran with the iPod and it revolutionized the entire experience. I started to download technology-oriented podcasts and I would listen to them as I ran. The laps became easier by September but I had to run through knee pains, shin splints and blisters to get where I was. I was now running nearly 4 miles when I ran. I found that I couldn’t do it everyday so I adjusted my schedule to every other day and both days of the weekend. I also decided that I would set aside time for me and make certain that I left work by 4:30 so I could run. I told my staff and I told Washington that between 4:30 and 6:00 I was unavailable. I was actually taking care of myself.

My running maxed out at 5 miles per day which took me almost exactly one hour to complete. Instead of doing sit-ups I was doing crunches – 1,000 of them at a time. I saw a profile of a 78 year old golfer who was doing 1,000 crunches a day and I figured that if he could do it I could do it.

I ran no matter what the weather was doing. I ran in the rain. I ran in the snow. I ran on the snow. I ran when the temperature was -29C. I ran every other day for 16 months. I got used to drinking diet soda. I continue to wrestle with eating the right foods. I do try. I do eat junk food, but I limit myself when doing so. My body is different. The fat is gone from my face, my legs and my arms. I am stilling taking vitamins. I have that picture and when I look at it, or other pictures of me from that time, I am always a little shocked. As of the point when I am writing this I am down to 170 pounds which is 77kg for Europeans who might be reading this. I lost 39 pounds over those 16 months. I never tried to lose it all in one week, one month, or some short term period of time. I knew this was a long term project and my life, to some degree, was in the balance.

The funny side of this has been the fact that I am able to wear clothes which were tailored for me exactly 23 years ago. I haven’t been able to fit into them for the past 13 years. It is as if I had a whole new set of clothes waiting for me.

The best side is that I love to run. It makes me happy. I find peace in doing it. I look forward to hearing This Week in Tech, Car Talk or the Don and Mike Show – which are just a portion of the podcasts I download each day.

I am no poster boy for weight loss, but the lesson I have learned from all of this appears to be that one must think about doing a little bit over a long period of time. It took years to put on the weight and it took time to take it off. I am also no poster boy because I am a sucker for Cherry-Vanilla ice cream and can finish off a half gallon in two days. When I do, I make certain that I run extra long the next couple of days.

Optimism

2006-09-13T19:26:00.000-04:00

When I awake every morning I do so with a strong belief that this day is going to be a good day and that I will accomplish the given tasks for the day before I once again fall asleep. I am an optimist. I believe in the innate goodness of people but I am pragmatic enough to protect myself from those who would seek to own something which isn’t theirs. I believe in the fair world concept which postulates that there is fairness inherent in everyday life and if one day something doesn’t go my way it will all even out over the next week, month, or year. I believe in love and the simple act of holding hands. I love the smell of fire coming from a fireplace but I hate the fact that it is getting colder when I smell that smell. I believe in hard work being its own reward, but I also hope that the company for which I am doing those hard labours notices my work. I actually believe in government, although the underpinnings of this belief system is being shaken to its core. I believe that we make the life we want and if we are unhappy we should be able to remake it – somehow. I believe that the greatest gift I will leave behind me is Julian and Isabel. I remember how I never wanted children but the moment they were each placed in my arms I realized that I was so very wrong. I love the ocean and the smell one smells when one is near it. I have never liked mountains because they just got in the way of getting to the sea. I have come to love running simply because when I am done with my run my body feels so alive despite the aches and pains two hours later. I love computers. To me computers are so simple and easy. There is not a thing about them which I do not understand. Unfortunately for me I grow easily frustrated when dealing with people who don’t understand computers and I need to work on that. Most people don’t realize that I never took a single computer class in my life but I have taught them. Computers have been the boat on which I have perched myself for the past 25 years, taking me around the world and back again. I love the work I did in Macedonia where I played a role in making it the first all wireless country in the world. I played a small role in changing an entire country. There were several times during the past two years when I cried just because I was overwhelmed by the good we were able to bring to this small landlocked country. I love traveling but I hate exploring. I love just sitting on a park bench in a new city and simply watching the people – I can do it for hours. I hate getting lost more than anything in the world. I have been to 90 countries but sometimes I can get lost in my own backyard. There are so many things which make me who I am. I believe myself to be a good person but I would never say those words aloud. The other day someone told me that I was very good at what I do – one of the best – but I am just too humble to believe that I am anything more than a simple person who learned to use computers. Sometimes I grow depressed and get to the point where I lose this sense of optimism and all the things which make me feel positive about life. When this happens I know I need to pull myself out of it. I do so by calling friends and family. I force myself to the track to run or to play soccer. Slowly the optimism returns and I can sleep that night and wake up the next morning refreshed and believe that this day will be better than the day before and that I will accomplish all the things I need to accomplish.

Where in the World is Cerna Goro?

2006-08-27T09:02:00.000-04:00

The cement has barely dried on the new sidewalk. The new bridge is spectacular and stands almost as a piece of art dedicated to a city in the newest micro-state in the world. Elections are 2 weeks away and all the work must be evident to the electorate so that the powers that be – the politicians – remain in favour, in office, and in power. I am talking about Podgorica in the country of Cerna Goro which in English is pronounced Montenegro. It only dawned on me recently why the abbreviation for Serbia is SCG – Serbija Cerna Goro. I cannot be blamed for not knowing this since Serbian isn’t my language. Turns out that now that Montenegro is a free country, they also have a new language called CernaGorska or Montenegrin. This is similar to the way three languages are spoken in Bosnia – Serbian, Croation and Bosnian. It all represents the further Balkanization of the Balkans.

Anyway, Podgorica is very different from Skopje. First, everything is either new or being refurbished here in Podgorica. I don’t have a clue where the money comes from – I guess the politicos saved it for a rainy day and, if so, it looks like its been raining for a while. There are buildings here which remind me of California architecture. In fact, we could be in Santa Barbara, San Diego or Huntington Beach and see similarly built structures with lots of glass, round winding curves and the wide array of the bright California color schemes.

It is different here also because the roads are being fixed up to look very nice. There is little refuse floating about on the side of the roads and the people certainly seem upbeat, more so than I witness in Macedonia on the whole.

The other, and most significant difference, is that this newest micro-state of 660,000 people has a coastline and might I say WHAT A COASTLINE. I have apparently now seen 90% of that coastline from the road which travels along the sea and what I saw was quite beautiful. The “Gold Rush” for land is on now that statehood has been assured by the popular vote to secede from their union with Serbia in early July. I hear that Russians and Brits are buying up all the best properties and that pricing are increasing by 5% per month. I have been asking whether it is too late to find a bargain and have been told that they are still out there but you have to search for them. That is the Gold Rush!

I had the joy of visiting a town called Kotor which sits on a large bay fed by the Adriatic Sea but seemingly miles inland. This town was a traditional walled city from the late 900’s and part of the Croat Kingdom. There was a church inside the walled city which celebrated its 1,000 year anniversary in 1926. The wall to this city snakes its way up at least 1500 feet to the top of a small mountain overlooking the bay and walled city. Apparently this city is a sister city to Dubrovnik which lies about 60 minutes north along the coast. The port of Kotor allows for large Cruise ships to visit deep into Montenegro through this vast fjord. I am certain that as Montenegro grows as a nation-state it will attract more people and more cruise ships. I imagine that the way of life in Kotor will change as it becomes addicted to a more viable tourism industry.

I am in Cerna Goro to see whether the work I did in Macedonia can be replicated here. This brings up the other differences between Macedonia. In terms of development years that Macedonia is about 3-4 years ahead of Montenegro. For all of Macedonia’s faults, it has adopted new telecom laws which made the creation of Macedonia Connects much easier to accomplish. Here, most of the laws, as far as I can tell, have been put in place to provide support to the elite few who have had money, controlled imports, and protected the few businesses capable of surviving in a small nation-state – one of which is the telecom provider.

In 5 years Montenegro will be well on its way to being invited to become a member of the EU. It will endure many political and regulatory reforms during this period of time in order to gain entry into the EU. People will spend millions if not billions of dollars transforming this country from an isolated dot on the map to an Adriatic hot spot frequented by the type of people who are attracted to the new and unexplored. Visit here soon before the simple qualities of what they have now are gone. Money and greed have a way of destroying simple pleasures in favour of the gaudy.

Travel Stories - My Best One!

2006-08-19T13:48:00.000-04:00

We were standing in line waiting to get to the airline ticket counter. We, in this case, would be me and the young couple standing ahead of me. I could sense their excitement as I eavesdropped in on their conversation. Their backpacks were brand new and neatly matched. I heard little tidbits about Germany, England and New Zealand. I heard him say how cool it was that they would celebrate December 24th twice after crossing the International Date Line as they returned home to America. My interest piqued, I decided to say something about how slow the line was progressing. So where are you going I asked? The response was that they were about to embark on a 4 and ½ month adventure of a lifetime. They were taking an around the world trip.

We stood online for nearly 1 and ½ hours that day at the airport discussing travel. They wanted to know about Hong Kong, China, Thailand and eastern Europe. I was able to tell them so many things during the time we had together. The joy of traveling is being able to share short stories about having been to a particular city somewhere in the world.

Here is my BEST TRAVEL STORY

I was traveling in southern Uganda from Kampala. The ride was about 3 hours long and I had a lot of soda during the ride. We finally arrived at the Primary Teachers College in Bushenyi. There we were met by a staff member and I asked whether I could use the bathroom. They asked me to sit in the outer hallway across from the President’s office. After 10 minutes the urge to relieve myself grew stronger and I said to the staff person that I was willing to go out into the bushes if using the bathroom was a problem. They looked at me rather oddly and told me that the President would be there any moment. Another 10 minutes passed followed by another 5 and finally he walks in – the President. He shakes my hand and says he is pleased to have me visit the school and he then led me to his bathroom.

It didn’t take long for me to finish my business. I washed my hands, wiped them off using the towel I found on the rack. I exited the bathroom and thanked them kindly. The staff person and the President had an odd look on their face. I asked the staff person what was wrong? He looked at me and said "you didnt take a bath". It then dawned on me – BATH ROOM. They wanted to know why I asked for a BATH ROOM if I didn’t want to take a bath. I asked what I should have said? "Shortcall" he said, "if you need to urinate you say short call and the other one is long call."

It is the collection of travel stories, and a venue in which they can be shared, that makes travel worthwhile. I really loved being able to tell this couple little stories about some of the places they would be visiting. I also told them how hard it was going to be for them. With small backpacks I suggested that their level of frustration will grow quickly as they accumulate items with no place to put them. I gave them my business card and asked them to write to me when they have been on their trip for three months. I quipped that by then they will either decide to never ever travel again or they will, like me, have the travel bug and live the rest of their lives seeking out new adventures and looking for an opportunity to tell people their travel stories.

An Amazing President of the United States of America

2006-08-01T15:05:00.000-04:00

I know that what I am about to write has nothing to do with meandering my way around the world but I just cannot pass this story up. I read an article about how some drug addicts are using heroine laced with the pain killer called fentanyl.

Fentanyl - an opiate used legally in anesthesia and for some cancer patients - is cheaper than heroin and 80 times more potent than morphine. That makes it an appealing additive for heroin distributors.

So what’s happening is that some druggies are dying because they are unprepared for the overwhelming affects associated with fentanyl and they overdose and die. There is a debate going on around the United States within municipal and State health agencies whether to make Narcan available to drug users in case they do overdose.

After more than 400 deaths nationwide from heroin laced with the painkiller fentanyl, some needle exchange programs are giving addicts prescriptions for a drug to keep on hand to halt an overdose. The antidote - naloxone, which is sold under the brand name Narcan - can save the life of someone who might not call 911 for fear of prosecution, treatment providers say.

As I see it, there is a way to stop people from dying by distributing Narcan to drug users. But that is met with the following statement from the White House –

"We don't want to send the message out that there is a safe way to use heroin," said Jennifer DeVallance, a spokeswoman for the White House Office of National Drug Control Policy, which sponsored a symposium Friday on the fentanyl problem in Philadelphia.

So what is the alternative? I guess it is ok for drug users to die of an overdose instead of giving them a chance to live. We wouldn’t want to err on the side of life for people who use drugs.

However, our President would prefer to destroy an embryo instead of providing researchers with an opportunity to find a cure for some of the most deadly diseases which kill millions of people each year. It is also apparent that he has no love for drug addicts and would prefer that they simply fall asleep and never wake up again.

Country 89 – Latvian Girls Love Flowers

2006-07-29T08:53:00.000-04:00

In April I detailed my momentary infatuation with Estonia. I had never been anywhere in the world where I felt quite as comfortable, including the USA, but I knew it couldn’t last simply because the WINTER is so ferocious and debilitating and I love the SUN. In visiting Latvia I returned to a Baltic country and for the first time in my life I experienced the barely ever setting sun. I have to tell you that I love the sun. I have great memories of playing stickball late into the summer evenings back in the USA – let’s say as late as 9:30 when you finally couldn’t see the ball being pitched to you. In Latvia, and Sweden as well, it is bright way beyond even that. There is enough sun to play stickball as late as 11:30 just in case some American kids wish to play on the streets of Stockholm or Riga.

Anyway, getting back to Latvia, I have to admit that Riga is every bit as charming as Tallinn within the old city. There is construction everywhere you look in Riga. My thought is that Riga had further to progress than did Estonia but I don’t know if that really is the case.

What I found interesting during my visit to Latvia was that these were the people who, as part of the Soviet empire, were intent on killing Americans. I explained to one Latvian that as a child I would go to the basement of my school and sit facing the wall and fold myself into a big ball – all based on the evils of the Soviet and their desire to rule to world. This same person showed me a picture of his mother taking shooting instruction based on the same concept – the evil USA and its intent to destroy the Soviet.

Clearly these people were as interested in having a good life then as they are now. I have long learned that parents simply want to raise their children in happiness and pray that they will succeed beyond their wildest hopes and dreams. I am certain that the Latvian’s wanted for their children in the 1950’s what I want for my children now. The lesson for me is that politicians breed distrust. We both laughed about the absurdity of it all.

What I also discovered in Latvia is that flowers dominate. Everyone brings flowers to give as a present. As I arrived at the airport in Riga I walked past throngs of people awaiting their loved ones and they all seemed to have flowers in hand. I asked what that was about and I was told that all Latvian girls love flowers. Next time I will arrive with flowers in my hand.

Being Part of Something Big in Macedonia

2006-07-14T03:11:00.000-04:00

Please take a moment to watch this video. I was part of something much bigger than myself. Our project changed a nation, albeit a small nation.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x1-4mMEa-bc

Everyone should strive once in their life to be part of the greater good beyond their own personal needs.

My Journey to Atilan

2006-07-14T02:58:00.000-04:00

When I decided to start writing BLOGS I did so with a belief that each story would either be humorous, or at least tell a story about the place I was visiting. While I found Guatemala very interesting and beautiful, the story below doesn’t really say very much. All I really did was work so there was a paucity of opportunity to find fun. The highlight, if there was one, was sitting in a Mexican restaurant watching the Mexico v. Argentina world cup match. I totally predicted the final score of 2-1 in favour of Argentina but the best part was seeing the nationalism play out right there in that restaurant. It was as if the pride and stake of each nation was on the shoulders of the 22 men on the field. Mexican’s would rise in anticipation as their striker moved the ball forward only to be countered by Argentine fans who are pleased that the attack has been repelled. The World Cup is over and Italy won. My favourites were eliminated one by one in painful succession but that is grist for another story.

The Road to Atitlan…

As I write I am sitting in the back, the very back, of a Chevy Tahoe being driven by a USAID driver who is taking us back to the other side of what has to be one of the most beautiful lakes on the face of this earth. I have been duly informed by one of my travel companions that Lake Atitlan is listed as one of a thousand sites one must see prior to the end of his lifetime. So here I am the 6th passenger in a 5 passenger Tahoe traveling on a bumpy and mostly winding road with computer on my lap looking out the window on a rainy and foggy day.

My journey started yesterday as we left the capital and drove several hours to the small lakeside town of Panajachel. I was dreading this trip only because I dislike not having ready access to the Internet. The purpose of this trip is built around that exact issue – how can USAID play a role in providing Internet access to the schools, health centres and residents of Lake Atitlan. I enjoy being the “Johnny Appleseed” of Internet connectivity without ever thinking about how maybe paradise isn’t ready for Internet access. Such thoughts rarely enter my thought processes – for better or worse I am a foot soldier in the spreading of the Internet.

The drive from Guatemala City was very scenic but nothing along the way prepared me for the beauty of Lake Atitlan and the town of Panajachel. We arrived very close to dusk but enough light to see the Lake and the four volcano’s. In fact, there are three visible volcanoes which dominate the skyline but the fourth is actually the remnant cone in which the lake sits. One can only imagine, given the size of the lake, that the volcano must have shot up at least 20,000 feet or more above where I was standing at the edge of the water. The three remaining volcanoes sit at 12,500, 11,500 and 10,500 feet and their footprint is no where near the collective size of the lake. It must have been quite an explosion.

The other beautiful thing about Panajachel is the wide array of fabrics produced by the indigenous natives. I am so attracted to the orange, tans, purples and basic fall colours of the fabrics. It reminds me of the fabrics I have seen in Thailand, Sri Lanka and Indonesia. It almost seems as if the people of these countries have purchased their goods from the same manufacturer – but obviously this cannot be the case.

It turned out that my fears of lack of internet access turned out to be unfounded as the hotel in which I stayed had substantial connectivity enough to feed my incessant need to be connected to the Internet.

There were many things about Guatemala that make it a very nice place to visit. The food is fantastico!! The people were incredibly friendly.
Well I left Guatemala two weeks ago and was hoping to finish this blog while still there but work, and other circumstances, all conspired to derail my plans. Suffice to say,

Lake Ohrid, Macedonia

2006-06-04T08:26:00.000-04:00

That anyone is the world would care about listening to anything I have to say always shocks me. I am, above all, a very humble person who stumbled into the profession of computers at the perfect moment in time back in the very early 80’s. The DNA inside me lined up correctly to make me compatible with computer technology. Perhaps it is an extension of the inventiveness of my Grandfather that was transferred into me. All I know is that I understand computers and more importantly, I understand how to apply technology to make certain everyday things happen more efficiently. Computers help me make order from chaos.

So here I am sitting in a room overlooking the one tourist attraction in Macedonia – Lake Ohrid. This room sits on the top of an otherwise lackluster hotel but is situated in such a way that all you do see is the Lake outside the windows and the mountains on the other side of the lake which is Albania. The tremendous rain from last night has left us with a spectacular day. The cumulus clouds look like cotton candy floating in the air. The sun is brightly shining and the water is differently illuminated by the sun coming through the gaps between the clouds.

Off to the right side of the lake I can see a Castle. An honest to God Castle built in the 3rd century BC around which the old city of Ohrid is situated. The Castle is in perfect condition and it provides stark testimony to the fact that they built things to last back then. Below the Castle is an Orthodox Church which was built prior to 1058. In the States if something was built in the late 1600’s we make it a national treasure – In Macedonia something built in the 1600’s is considered recent architecture.

All of the sudden I am introduced and I need to stop looking out the Window.

…”Mr. Strachan will now speak to us about his project called Macedonia Connects…”

I am on! This is probably the 40th presentation I have made about Macedonia Connects in the past 12 months. I have grown more comfortable with each presentation but I start them all out the same way…

“I want to thank you all for taking time to hear this presentation. I am always amased that people are here to listen to what I have to say”

I make this statement as much to set myself at ease as to have a good opening line.

“Today I want to tell you about a GREAT project called Macedonia Connects which is responsible for making Macedonia the first all wireless country in the World”

And so I progress through slide after slide of my powerpoint presentation hoping to hit the most important points each time.

“…What Macedonia Connects represents is a successful public private partnership…”

I get to the slide which shows the ice covered mountains of Macedonia and people usually laugh when they see the title of the slide – “Technical Challanges”

“…While this project started as a connectivity for schools activity it grew into a national connectivity solution…”

I am on auto pilot but I am not hitting all of the points I need to make. I sense that I am rushing through it. I pause and I look out the window and see a boat going past and wish I was on the boat.

“Macedonia Connects has received tremendous publicity including the Wall Street Journal, NY Times, Business Week…”

I am almost done at this point. 30 minutes already and it felt like 5. My shirt is getting wet as I perspire during my presentation. Don’t let the audience see you sweat!!

“I will close by saying that my work in Macedonia has been an amasing experience for me and it has been a great project. I believe that our results can be replicated in other countries and I look forward to working on future projects like Macedonia Connects…are there any questions?”

WHEW…it is over, people rarely ever ask questions and when they do they are softball questions.

“…can you please tell us what elements need to be in place in a country before a Macedonia Connects type project can be executed?”

WOW, now that’s a good question. I have an answer. The answer creates more questions. We actually have an exchange of ideas going on here. Time is quickly passing. Question after question and I hit them out of the ballpark, at least I think I do…”

“If there are no other questions for Mr. Strachan I would now like to thank him for his very informative and enlightening presentation. It certainly shows that activities like this are needed throughout the Balkans region”

I heard applause and we go to a break. I just want to head to the bathroom and people come up to me asking for my presentation to be placed on their thumb drive. Some people hand me their business card while others want to ask me questions. I felt like someone with an important message that people wanted to hear.

Within 5 minutes my eyes were on the lake and the beautiful day. My performance was over. I was a little more confident in myself.

Perhaps next time I will simply start the presentation with “Today I want to tell you about a GREAT project called Macedonia Connects which is responsible for making Macedonia the first all wireless country in the World”

Kosovo – Another Asterisk

2006-06-01T08:46:00.000-04:00

I started my blog as a way to share stories about the places I travel and to allow my children to see what I am doing when I am away from them. I have been to Kosovo many times in the past 2 years but decided to write about it after making this latest visit. Nothing humerous happened to me in Kosovo during my two days. Instead, I spent time presenting the work I did in Macedonia and trying to see whether it can be duplicated in Kosovo.

It would be folly to try and understand the complexity of Kosovo unless you suffer from masochistic behaviour and have a spare 20 years to learn it all. What I do understand is that Serbia and Yugoslavia ignored it in a similar way the Russians appear to have ignored Chechnya and hoped it would simply disappear. That ignorance and then outright hostility has brought Kosovo and its residents a great deal of suffering. I walked past the government building where at least 50 pictures of the “missing” are hung. Men and boys long gone but still remembered and most likely buried in some anonymous grave which will never be uncovered. This is a country where Bill Clinton, Bob Dole and Wesley Clark have streets named in their honour. They love America because it alone stood against the Serbians desire to seemingly destroy all of Kosovo in the name of ethnic cleansing.

I am writing this as I sit in an internet café in Pristina. Kosovo is the neighbouring land to Macedonia where I have been working and living for nearly 2 years. This Internet café says a lot about Kosovo, at least to me, because I am only 77km away from Skopje where Internet access is ubiquitous yet here it is limited to Cafés and businesses and not consumers. Kosovo is an occupied country being protected by NATO against Serbia. Now that Montenegro has voted to opt out of its relationship with Serbia it leaves Kosovo as the last remaining puzzle piece in former cluster called Yugoslavia. Pristina is a bustling city of nearly 200,000 people in a country of between 1.9 and 2.4 million. It is a poor nation by all standards surrounded by wealthier former Yugoslav Republics. If ever there was a place seeking legitimacy it is Kosovo.

I have been to Kosovo a number of times mostly to catch a flight since they are considerably cheaper than flying from Macedonia. I want to call Kosovo a very small country but at present it is neither a country nor part of Serbia – although I am certain that the Serbs don’t share the same conclusion. Everyone is waiting for the “Kosovo Issue” to be resolved. This means the official sanctioning of it as the newest member state of Europe.

When you talk to people working here most are not positive about the prospects for Kosovo once it becomes a country. Were it not for aid programmes and remittance from the Kosovo Diaspora this country would have nothing other than people who have learned to endure long suffering. I am left to wonder why people hold onto a place which offers so little yet they are willing to die for it.
________________________________________________________

I am back in Macedonia and I shared some of the stories I heard in Kosovo about the Albanian population of Macedonia and Kosovo. For instance, Skopje used to hold the largest number of ethnic Albanians in the world. The problem was that I shared it with a Macedonian audience and I basically opened a beehive. The tensions between the two ethnicities runs so deep that a simple statement about the relative size of the Albanian population in Macedonia was able to elicit scorn and anger. As I recall, the person who told me the many stories about Albanians was adamant in his support for his ethnicity as well.

I wish that for my own learning experience I could place the person I met in Kosovo in the same room as the person I know here in Macedonia and just listen to their interaction. I would ask HOW WILL YOU EVER RESOLVE THIS? When two people, two religions, two ethnicities claim the same land and have a totally opposed view of history how does anyone ever hope to resolve their differences? I have a greater appreciation for the problems in the Middle East because I see an absolute similar struggle here in Macedonia except no one is dying for their beliefs – at least right now they aren’t.

I have one other observation from my time living here - no country can be run affectively in two languages. While biligualism is a hallmark of Europe there must be an agreed upon single language which is used to transact government business and the education system. Here in Macedonia so much is tied to Macedonian/Orthodoxy and Albanian/Muslim that they are too blind to recognise that the best way to run a country is in a single language. In the case of Macedonia it needs to be Macedonian. People who don't learn to speak Macedonian will be left behind within the national economy leading to uneeded poverty.

This is a lesson that America is learning now. I have always been a supporter of biligualism in America but there can only be one working language otherwise there will be people trapped on the other side of the language barrier and that often results in poverty.

Homage to My Daughter Isabel

2006-05-21T06:02:00.000-04:00

I just spent 6 full days with my daughter Isabel in France and I long for more. It was her 10th birthday the day she left for Paris and this was her birthday present – a trip to Paris to be with me. She arrived early in the morning and I was so happy to see her that I cried. Belle cried too but for other reasons – she didn’t like the airline food and had decided to avoid it and that upset her. We rode a bus to the train station and then took multiple trains back into Paris and our hotel. This is the second time Belle has been to Paris. She was 4 when she made her previous visit and over the course of our 6 days together I learned that she had incredibly sharp memories of that trip. I was worried that she might forget THIS never imagining that she has a clear recall of a trip she made when she was 4. It is clear to me now that she will remember this trip for the rest of her life.

Within minutes of her arrival Belle’s first request was to ride a double decker carousel which she remembered from her last visit. She told me where she thought it was and we found it at the park in front Sacre Couer in Montmartre. She rode it three times and was quite pleased.

The next thing we did was go to the Bateau Mouche for a water tour of Paris. The best part of the ride was when Belle crawled up into my lap and I held her as we both fell asleep for a large portion of the ride. Cost: 8 Euro - Experience: Priceless

The rest of our time is now a blur of metro, TGV and bus rides. While she was hesitant to ride her first metro Belle soon became a skilled “metro surfer” asking me if we could use metro instead of walking a few blocks. She enjoyed trying to ride without holding the rail while I was always reminder her to do just that – HOLD ON. She loved opening the subway and bus doors. She loved walking with me, which we did a lot, and she always either held my hand or my arm. She never strayed more than a couple of feet away from me.

We used bus 80 to get everywhere the metro didn’t take us and soon she started calling it buseighty finding the one word version funnier than my two word version. We joked about the talking GPS systems in the taxi cabs – TURN LEFT IN 100 METERS. As we were walking Belle would all of the sudden say TURN LEFT IN 1 METER and then walk into a wall to make me laugh – I DID!!

We went clothes shopping and she seemed so at ease as we found bargains for t-shirts, skirts and pants at the Monoprix and Okaido. She wasn’t at ease when she tried on the most amazing pink cololured dress which fit her perfectly. The saleswoman doted on her and told her how beautiful she looked and as the salesperson walked away Belle said she didn’t want it. I didn’t press her then, or later, but from what I know of Belle she hates to be the centre of attention or to stick out at all. I presume that this is what she was thinking when she said NO.

We had the greatest time together. As she was waiting to leave at the airport, two women in front of us started talking to Belle. They realized that she was flying alone and they wanted to set her at ease. They told Belle that in terms of “Cool” that a trip to Paris with her father and buying clothes was absolutely the “Coolest thing a kid could do.” She smiled back at them but didn’t really respond.

It is hard to know what Belle was thinking. I haven’t spent a lot of time with her over the past 2 years and I really have been away so much of her life traveling from place to place. I know she misses me because she tells me so. At one point we were walking back to our hotel and Belle said to me “Daddy, you are famous…you are in newspapers and on TV and you are famous.” I thanked her for thinking I was famous but I explained that I really wasn’t famous at all. I don’t think she really understood. She had delivered to me an article which featured me and the work I was doing in Macedonia. My work is what has always taken me away from her.

I was left wondering what she will think of me when she turns 20. Will she still think I am famous or will she resent the fact that I was gone for so much of her life?

As she left me at the airport I told her that I loved her endlessly and will miss her very much. She didn’t realize that I watched her until she disappeared never looking back to see if I was there. I cried then as I am crying now.

Egypt - 2001

2006-05-02T16:10:00.000-04:00

I am riding on the train between the two cities after having spent 24 hours in Alexandria, or Alex as it is called by Egyptians. In my ears I am hearing the CD-ROM soundtrack from The Choir, a BBC production. As I look out the window, I am seeing land that has been continuously tilled for the past 3000 years, if not more. Added to the landscape are power lines, roads, and the rails I am riding upon, but the way of life has probably not changed much over time. Prior to leaving for Alex I had read that it was a city missing life, and beauty, sitting on the Mediterranean Sea. The author of that piece could not have been further from the truth. During my travels through Alex, which took me from one end to another, I saw a vibrant and colourful city full of well-dressed people walking from store to store. I was rather pleasantly surprised.

My day in Alexandria started when I was greeted at the railway station by my pre-arranged guide. He took me to my hotel, the Hotel Metropol where I was immediately impressed. When you walk in the front door, you are met with the smell of “clean”. I am one of the few people in the world who finds joy out of cleaning house. I recognise the smell of cleanliness and it was present in this hotel, more so than my much larger hotel in Cairo. In order to get to my floor I stepped onto an elevator that has been operational for at least 100 years. Barely large enough for three people, and located in the stair well, it ascends in slow but sure fashion. I feel as if I have stepped back in time. My room was more than adequate and very clean – not a spot of dirt or grime anywhere. I immediately go to the window and open it to see a sight I have never before seen, the Mediterranean Sea. There it is breaking against the sea wall. I also get my first view of the city crescent lying along the Sea for what seems like miles.

Not wanting to waste any time, I leave the hotel, with my guide, and we go off to the Citadel. This is a fortress built over 1400 years ago to protect the city from attack. Like the pyramids, it is a marvelous example of the enormous capabilities that the Egyptians have historically possessed. As I walked though the building, I tried to imagine what life must have been like when this building was first built. I also thought about how close I was to Turkey almost believing that if I just squinted a little I might be able to make out some details of the land. We left the Citadel and drove on the coastal road through town until we reached the Castle of King Farouk, the deposed king of Egypt. I will give it to Farouk; he certainly knew grandeur and how to locate the most beautiful site in Alexandria. The entire grounds are now full of hotels and special clubs intended for the richest people of Egypt, but during Farouks time, the majestic quality of his castle alone would have been astounding. President Mubarek presently uses the Castle to entertain important dignitaries. Just prior to leaving I walked along one of the many beaches on the grounds and touched the waters of the Mediterranean Sea. Another Sea added to my minds collection. I have now touched all of the largest oceans in Seas in the world.

We left Farouks Palace just as he Sun was beginning to set. We drive back to the hotel where I freshened up a bit before leaving for a Seafood restaurant that had been recommended to me for both the view and the quality of the food – the Tikka Fish Market did not disappoint in either respect. When you arrive you asked to walk up to the fist counter and select your meal. The fish, shrimp, and crab are absolutely fresh. When I returned to the table, an assortment of appetizers, garden vegetables and breads were neatly lined up along the full extent of the dining table. My fish arrived very quickly, cooked to perfection. In all, the meal was absolutely perfect.

After dinner, my guide took me back to the Hotel and my evening was just beginning. For the next couple of hours I traversed the streets and back alleys of downtown Alexandria. The stores are different than in Cairo catering less to the needs of tourists. Unfortunately for me I was searching out purely tourist goods such as Papyrus and something for my children. I settled for a few Cokes along the way, and the joy are seeing Egyptians in their element.

The next day started late. I did something I have never done in my lifetime, I slept until Ten o’clock in the morning, I guess my walks through Alexandria tired me out. I went down to the free breakfast provided by the Hotel and it was as grand and opulent as the Hotel itself. My guide picked me up after the breakfast to deposit me at the train station for my return trip but not before stopping at a Tea Restaurant where we sat for awhile while he enjoyed the joys of the houka. While I did not partake, it was interesting to sit there and watch the people in the restaurant. I felt like I was part of a movie scene. I soon boarded the train back to Cairo leaving Alexandria behind vowing to return someday with my children.

Hungary - Country 87 with an Asterisk

2006-05-02T13:27:00.000-04:00

The prime rule for being able to a country to the list of countries which you have visited is that you MUST leave the airport. That is the only real rule I have for this make believe contest and perhaps you must eat a meal when you leave the airport in order to say that you have really been in that country. Today I made a quick transit into and out of Hungary. As I exited my plane I saw the TRANSIT PASSENGERS sign pointing one direction and the Baggage Claim and Customs booth the other direction. I had 2 ½ hours between flights and could have easily left the airport and been able to count this as country 87 but I didn’t. Instead I went to the transit desk to reconfirm my onward passage as I had been told to do by the ticketing agent in Sweden. This is the same ticket agent who forgot to place a baggage claim sticker on the back of my ticket after retagging my bag for the third time. He made a joke about how his day wasn’t going well and it was still quite early. I asked him to place my Frequent Flyer number in my record and that took nearly 5 minutes to do only to find out that the airline does not participate in any Frequent Flyer programme.

So back to the Transit desk in Budapest.

This uniformed woman with short dark hair takes about 40 seconds before looking up at me as I am standing first in line. She asks for my ticket which I hand to her. She asks if I have any luggage checked and I respond in the affirmative. She asks for the baggage sticker. I look at my ticket and there is not one there. I know that the man in Sweden gave and retracted 2 baggage stickers but he must have not given me the 3rd one. I said to the woman that the person who processed my ticket in Sweden was having a bad day and that it was likely the case that the third time he did my baggage sticker he simply forgot to place it on my ticket.

Judging from the reaction of this woman upon telling her this story you would have thought I had just told her that something that completely undermined her basic understanding of life.

“Sir, there are three things expected of you when you travel – your passport, your ticket and you baggage claim ticket”

“Sir, I cannot imagine that someone who works at an airport would not provide you with a baggage sticker”

I asked her if she thought I was lying for some reason. I suggested that it was too early in the morning for her to be so angry at a random traveler.

“Sir, how can I help you if you don’t have a baggage ticket?”

I said the plane is just right there – we could see it – that I could go out and identify my baggage and most likely the sticker the gentlemen neglected to give me in Stockholm would be found.

“Sir, you may not go near the plane. Without the baggage ticket I cannot guarantee that the bag will make it to Skopje”

But the tags clearly had SKP on them I said. Wouldn’t they be routed to Skopje even though I didn’t have a baggage claim ticket?

“Sir, without this ticket we do not know whether your bags will make it to their final destination”

OK, OK!! I got it. Thank you for your help. I am sorry that I disturbed your day.

About 20 minutes later I went to the same desk but a different person. I explained the exchange with the previous person and asked whether there was anything I could do to assure that my luggage made it to Skopje. She walked over to the woman and they spoke for a moment and then returned to me.

“Sir, she told you that your bag would be fine and it would make it to Skopje what more are you seeking?”

WHAT? She never said that. You have to be kidding? Why would I come up to you and tell you something that someone told me if it were not true?

“Sir, I don’t know why you would do that!”

I went and sat down and decided against leaving the airport.

My bag arrived in Skopje and was the first bag on the carousel.

Hungary will always have an asterisk next to it.

HUNGARY* Country 87

(* = derailed by two helpful women at the transit desk)

Estonia - Another Love

2006-04-30T14:59:00.000-04:00

At the risk of being painfully redundant, I have fallen in love. I know that my heart is so easily won when it encounters culture, antiquity and beauty. My soul and heart need feeding, and the quickest way, at least to my heart, is the smell of the sea, bookstores, antique shops and lots of people watching. I never realize how accustomed I become to the lack of stimulation until I get to a place which is simply refreshing and startling – like that initial flash of the sun in your eyes when you open the curtains on a sunny day.

I can’t help but feel childish as my mind moves almost immediately from wondering what it would be like to live here to I can live here to I want to live here all in the space of a millisecond.

It would be an illicit love affair because we really aren’t made for each other – I crave the warmth of long sunny days. Neither of those exists for nearly 6 months of the year. This place is drenched in almost complete darkness on the 21st of December and only comes out of its slumber on May Day. But then to live those 6 months here when it is warm and the sun never truly sets on the 21st of June. My minds voice says that if only my body could grow accustom to the cold this new love could thrive. I can hear the negotiation going on inside me as one voice attempts to convince the other that I can change. Oh if only I could change. For this place I can change.

I wonder whether I am getting too old to fall in love with a place. I have just so many days ahead of me and perhaps they are better spent getting to know one place but my vagabond spirit always wins the day. There is always another country to visit and I do so love falling in love.

I love exploration and discovery. I love the new slate each place offers. I am uncertain as to the origins of my fascination with travel, but at this point in life it doesn’t seem to be abating. Some would have tired long ago while I appear to be just getting my second breathe.

My new love awaits me. Beckons me from outside my hotel window saying leave your computer and the confines of your starkly adorned modernistic hotel room and walk the cobbled streets of Tallinn past 13th century cathedrals and centuries old stain glass windows. Listen to the trolley cars pass you and look up to the deep azure blue cloudless sky and experience the cold on your cheeks. It is odd that this new love can woo me away from my keyboard when others often cannot. For now I am off to explore.

First Blog - An introduction

2006-02-17T06:29:00.000-05:00

What good is sound if there is no one there to hear it?

What good is beauty if there is no one there to view it?

What good is traveling the world if there is no one there to share it with?

I recently traveled to what turned out to be my 83rd country and, as is usually the case, I was there alone without anyone to share the sights and sounds. I resolved to establish a blog which could chronicle my trips, past, present and future, to serve as a companion with whom I can share.

I actually wrote an extensive piece 2 weeks ago and because my internet access was dodgy at the time, I loss the whole lot. I am an IT person and I knew better.

So write I will about the meandering travels of this wayward mind.

- Glenn