Twitadvocacy and Moe's Southwestern Grill

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

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

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' !

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

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!

{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.

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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

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

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

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

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

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!!

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

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?

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!

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

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

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

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

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,