Dispatches from Israel - Country 96 and Palestine

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

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

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

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

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

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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.