Well, it's been a while... part 2

Hmm. So this is becoming a trend. Sorry about that. Life keeps getting in the way, I guess. More things to catch up on. Took a trip to Medellin and Sante Fe. Took another trip to Paipa and Villa de Leyva. Alissa has given two more Spanish language presentations. We've had a couple of visitors (our friend Mike and Alissa's dad) - and while they were here we had a dinner party with some friends. We also went to a friends play in Spanish by for of and in Bogota's most's notorious neighborhood. Much to discuss. Happy thanksgiving everyone (if you're still checking in on my delinquent blog...)!!

Catching Up: Davis Cup, Colombia v. US

Warning: Sports heavy content and blogger's rant lead below post (scroll down to get to the match and the Colombian flavor).

It was nearly a eon ago now, but I went to see Colombia host the U.S. in a plan in game to the World Group stage. For those of you that are unfamiliar, the Davis Cup has 3 stages. The minnows and the middleweights of the world play in Regional knockout stages to get into the World Group playoff. Usually the winners of the knockout stages are countries with middling players (think India or Israel). The World Group playoff involves the knockout stage winners playing against teams from the World Group who lost in the first round. The World Group is the top 8 teams in the world who didn't lose in the first round of the previous year's World Group and the winners of the previous year's playoffs.

So in early 2010 Colombia beat Canada to get to the playoffs. The US lost to Serbia in the first round and thus had to travel to travel to Colombia in September 2010. Bummer for them, good for me.

The thing about Davis Cup that makes this all possible is that World Ranking has only to do with the matchup. It has nothing to do with who is the host of the tie (that's tennis talk for match). The team that gets to host is randomly chosen for each tie. Which is why the US was in this situation to begin with. They've had some bad luck. The other team keeps getting the choice of ground. Serbia chose clay and they beat the US on clay. If the US had hosted, the match would be on hardcourt and the US probably would have won.

So the US, with 4 players in the top 25 and the top doubles team in the world, has to travel to Serbia and play of clay. They lose. Then they lose the coin flip again and suddenly have to travel to Colombia and, of course, play on clay. Reaching into the analogy book, this match is a bit like having the NBA finals all in one city. Imagine the Lakers having to play the Thunder 5 times in Oklahoma. They lose a close one 3-2. But because they lost they have to play in to the NBA the next year. So they travel to play Spartak Moscow, only the Muscovites choose the surface. So they play on grass to take advantage of the Lakers' knee problems.

As you can imagine, this presents the US with problems almost every year. And if they were to lose this match, they would fall down into the Regional stage, which, continuing the analogy, would be like the Lakers having to play a season in the Spanish League as a result of losing the match to Spartak Moscow. It's a bit ridiculous.

Of course this could be solved if the US could find even one decent player on clay. They can't. They're awful on clay. So every single country that hosts them chooses clay. And it's especially funny because even the other countries that are awful on clay (like Australia) play the US on clay because the US is that bad on clay. Awful. Laughable. Like watching a young child learning to ice-skate. So, what to do? They could continue down this pathetic path. Hoping and praying that they get lucky and host a bunch a matches and Andy Roddick then goes on the tear of his life (like in 2007, when the US last won). Or perhaps instead of creating a generation of Roddick clones they could teach a few kids how to actually play on clay. From my tone, you can guess which I'd choose. So get your heads out of your bums USA Tennis and start teaching some kids to be clay-court specialists and save the team from this continued embarrassment!

By the way, I only blame USA Tennis. They have some serious problems. US Tennis is a mess. Pat McEnroe is doing a lot to try and save it; I hope he succeeds. And by the way, I don't hold any of this against Andy. He's a great player and deserves a tremendous amount of credit for a pretty successful career. The trouble is that his is not a game to emulate. And that's all USA Tennis seems to be able to do. He has a very one dimensional game (hard serve, big forehand). That's not good. What sets him apart from the rest of the rabble USA Tennis produces with only hard serves and big forehands is his heart. The guy has guts. He's got chutzpah spilling out his ears. I love him for it. But you can't teach that. And if you don't have his balls, you shouldn't play his style. But that seems to be the best thing that USA Tennis can come up with (and yes, I blame Bollettieri too, as I would guess Maria Sharapova does at this point too).

Onto match day. Of course, Colombia chose to host on clay. They normally play uptown at a hard-court surface, but chose to play for the first time at the Bullfighting ring. This was the first time the ring had hosted tennis (but of course, because you always play the US on clay, the only country in the world with a scouting report this easy). But good for me again, because the ring is only a couple of blocks from my apartment (I can see it right now, out my window).

Colombian's are always late to things. They affectionately call it Colombian time. If you have a meeting at 9 - don't even bother showing up until 9:30. Your meeting won't start until 9:45 or 10. Again, good for me, because it was general seating and my friend and I garnered seats at half-court about 15 rows up or so (or as I like to call them, perfect tennis seats, because I'm not a courtside guy. I like to watch the action from the best angle, not the closest one). The stadium didn't even get rocking until the second set, but they made up for it in the next 3 sets.

Mardy Fish, the US #1 on for this tie, played his ass off. He fell down a set but then won the next two. And after dropping the 4th, played a determined 5th. I'm not a huge fan of Mr. Fish (I actually had hoped for him to be benched for the tie - shows what I know. The guy gutted it out and single-handedly willed the US to victory). The match was quite the thriller. Nearly every game went to deuce. Both guys played with guts (and with tons of unforced errors - this was not a display of technical skill) and Mr. Fish earned and held up a 5th set break.

The crowd was fantastic. A good sports crowd. Not negative, but emotionally supportive of their own guys. Huge cheers went up with every point won by the home side. Flags, whistles, cheers, songs. The whole great crowd playbook. It was quite the spectacle. It resembled in many ways the atmosphere of the World Cup. The difference was, of course, that instead of watching as a neutral, here I was cheering for my country in hostile territory. And it was still great to behold. I found myself wanting Colombia to lose by only that much, so as to get the victory and get to take in the crowd as much as possible, too. In the end that's what I got. At least out of the first match. The Colombians and I were exhausted after it was over.

The second match was poor, to say the least, from the American's standpoint. Sam Querry, whom I like, was nothing short of awful. His only weapon, his serve, is impressive as hell. Several of him bombs set the crowd off gasping and oohing. They and I had never seen the like. And may not again for a long time. Big, thunderous bolts off his racket. Unfortunately for Mr. Querry his first serve percentage was not 100% and thus he crashed out to a meek straight set loss. Great for crowd watching. They were phenomenal. And even more enthusiastic for the second match. Passionate, loud, beautiful. Even with defeat I had a blast. Mr. Fish's win helped.

The US's great strength is their doubles. They rarely drop a match. So in a best of 5 - 4 singles and a doubles - all the US has to do, usually, is split the singles. So I went away happy. And so did the Colombians. More than a few people stopped me to say it's 1-1 and anybody's tie. The next day the US did win the doubles, with, you guessed it, Mr. Fish leading the way. And then to complete the tie of his career Mr. Fish gutted out another 5 setter, this time 8-6 in that 5th. My hat off as well to Santiago Giraldo, the best Colombian player, and, with another break or two, the man who may well have played Colombia into the World Group.

A final note on the crowd. As you may have surmised from this and my World Cup posts, I'm all for a certain kind of nationalism. The kind like after this match, when people shake hands and take pictures with the fans of the other team. Wish them the best of luck. The Colombians of this match, much like the Algerian or South African fans, were gracious and good-spirited and it was a pleasure to watch the match with them. I wish them the best of luck in the next year. I hope they make it back to the playoff, with a different result (unless they meet the US again, that is).

A Guest Post, from an Anonymous Reporter

So on Monday, I heard that I might have to be involved with a presentation on Thursday (10/21). I was told I would hear more details soon, but none came. On Wednesday I go in to school to give class and the first exam of the semester. We'll have class from 6-8, and an exam from 8-9. At 4:15 pm I get a phone call from one of the organizers of the event asking if I'll be attending the event at 7pm and will I be presenting? It's really important. The director of international exchange of all of Colombia will be there. I say, oh, I didn't know about it. I have class. It's really important, she tells me again. Ok, I guess I can move things around.

So my colleague spends 2 hours calling all the students to cancel the exam and reschedule with the students because this is that important. So I rush home to change. I send out a quick apology email to all the students. I arrive at 6:45. I'm the first one. I see a poster on the wall in the lobby which announced a Fair of International Education with China. They turn out to be the invited country to this event. The event is on the terrace. It's quite beautiful. It's on the 8th floor and it overlooks the whole city. The terrace is decorated with Chinese artifacts -- fans, lanterns, a steaming fish bowl. Very pretty. They had Chinese taffy too.

Guests start arriving, some colleagues, etc. No one has any idea exactly what this event is supposed to be. Thank God for the free wine. Around 7:30, 7:45 they start with introductions. The director of the University gives a 5-minute speech about how this is an important University of which 80% of students are from the lowest economic classes of the city. It's a nice talk. Then the organizer of the program comes out and speaks about how international education is a way to help out these students. We're thinking this is what this is about. He talks for about 30 minutes.

So, he then proceeds to show slides. Each slide is a student from another country that came here as part of an exchange. He really likes Italians. The first 15 were all students from Italy. He showed each slide and talked about each one.

He starts another slide show. But now our guy is getting worked up because the music that he had choreographed to the slides got off track. So now he spends 15 minutes arguing with the tech guy trying to get the music synced to the slides. After 20 minutes he gives up. But I've got food and wine, so I'm happy.

He moves on to the slides about all the students from Colombia studying abroad (without music). He's showing pictures of them with Mickey Mouse, etc.

We get a little break -- they needed another 15 minutes to get the next part up and running -- and then it's on to the videos. So he shows us three videos made by Spanish exchange students studying in Colombia. All three of them are taken in the same place. On the terrace where we're all sitting. It's them telling possible students why Colombia is great. I'm not sure why they showed that to us... The program director pulls each of the students up to the front and has them stand next to the video screen while the videos are playing. Each just stands there, on the same terrace, a day later, with a dull smile on his face. I'm not sure why they didn't just present their ideas live.

After that, an artist comes up and proceeds to give an academic presentation on the theory behind his art, which is the connection between Mathematics and Art. Cool topic, but what does it have to do with international education exchange?

My colleague wonders why fine artists can't read an audience. Someone asks them about the theory behind their art and they can't stop, even if all of the audience is walking out. He goes screen by screen through a slideshow for 20 minutes explaining his art. But he's finally about to wrap up... when the director stops him and says he thinks it would be interesting to explain the final slide in more detail. Another 15 minutes later... we're down to half the original crowd. At one point people who seem to know him had enough and slipped out.

So my colleagues and I are wondering when our presentation is going to come... Turns out they forgot about us. That was the end of the presentation. They give out some Chinese coins for luck. Some shy student appears and bids us all goodnight.

But not before the presentation of one of the artist's original works to the cousin of the program director, not to the Chinese ambassador or any other number of foreign guests there for the international exchange fair, but to the cousin of the program director for decorating the terrace. They had spent all of their Saturday buying the decorations. As a final farewell, the wife of the cousin wraps things up with a brief speech on Yin and Yang and the nature of the universe. Even turning to the Chinese ambassador to say "You know."

And that was that. A program that defied logic and explanation. Good thing I canceled my class. But who can complain about free wine and good cheese?

Well, it's been a while...

As many of you know, I voyaged home to Massachusetts to greet my new niece. She's now one month and two days old. She's a tiny little thing, taking after her father. No really. He was a little guy who looked not unlike the kid from Home Alone until high school when he grew into the body of a down lineman. But she's a precious little thing and, most importantly, she seems to like her uncle. So, so far so good on that front.

It was a busy few weeks. Lot's of family goings on and of course I spent as much time with her as I could. And then I've been under the weather for a little while. So it adds up and to a month away. Yikes. I've got a few things to blog about too. The weekend before I went I walked the 5 blocks to the Bull-Fighting stadium to see Colombia host the U.S. in the Davis Cup. I went to Colombia's version of Cochella (or Bonaroo, if you prefer) headlined by Green Day. We discovered that the main street 10 blocks away turns into an all-night fair every Friday night. I've become an English teacher and a Spanish student. And Alissa gave her first presention in Spanish. So it's been a rather full month...

On the lighter side...

Lis and I recently discovered a ping-pong club just up the road. I love this city. To be trite about it, it's like a shaggy but loveable stray dog, sometimes you worry about fleas and germs, but mostly it's just fun times and love. That extended metaphor is so bad I'm going to leave it there. It needs to be an example for others....

The ping-pong club is a dream of mine come true. Most of you know this already, but we had a ping-pong table in our last apartment. I loved it. I miss it. But not really so much anymore. Now I have this club. We went last Friday afternoon and it was bustling with the afterwork crowd. They have games to occupy you while you wait for a table. They have the cheapest beer in town. I'm in love. Come visit so we can play.

This club is a great example of why I love Bogota. There are so many random things here tucked into every corner and crevasse. I'm sure there are hundreds more cool things like this to discover. And I'm sure I'll discover them in the same way. Walking back from a meeting, taking a different route home. There are so many routes and so many streets. I'm excited about the treasures out there waiting to be discovered...

Cartagena - the good, the bad, and the ugly; some thoughts on Bogota

The misses and I took a trip to the Caribbean coast last weekend. We met up with a few of her colleagues who were in Cartagena for a Latin American technology and education conference. This didn't have much to do with our weekend, but we did meet some nice professors from Mexico, our North American brothers and sisters, if you will. We had a great time in Cartagena. It's a very photogenic city and we came back with a few hundred pics. Say what you will about the Spanish, but they knew how to builds some walls. My highlights:

Walking along the walls at sunset. They overlook the Mediterranean (most parts do) and while most of the city is hot and muggy, there's a great breeze that comes off the water at night. There's also a couple of overpriced bars on the walls. Which is all well and good for hanging out with Gringos, if you haven't seen any in a while. But the walls are a nice place to chill. Dozens of kites and lovers. My personal favorite. Bunches of Costenos come out to the walls in the afternoon to enjoy the breezes and the sunset. It makes for very nice kite flying and the kites flying together make for a pleasant sight. And a different couple takes each piece of the wall - to sit on and do couple things. Alone, maybe they wouldn't be so interesting, but walking along the walls and seeing dozens of couples is an interesting thing. It's almost a gallery of relationship possibilities. I found it funny, seeing 10 different guys looking at their galls in a differnent way (for some reason the guys face the sunset and the girls face the city).

Arepas de Huevo. Arepas - the national fast food dish - come in many different styles. This has been my favorite so far. It's basically a deep fried empanada with an egg inside. Very tasty.

Salsa dancing. Got a couple of brief lessons. I'm a bit poor at it, but it's 4x4 time, so not terribly difficult for my anglo brain. We went to a club famous for playing classic salsa from the 50's and 60's. Loved the music. Had the fortune of a thunderstorm while we were there. The club had a nice balcony, so I could sit there with my rum and smell the sea air and the rain and listen to the music and watch the dancers. Loved it. The dancing was fun too. Rum makes it all okay.

The Lion of Bavaria. Turns out this bar is in the Lonely Planet. But it just happened to be around the corner from our hotel (chosen by our Colombian friends for us, it was a remodeled hacienda with a pool and a pleasant courtyard, a bit more on this later). The only place in Colombia - that I know of - where you can get a litre of beer. We had a lovely time chatting with the owner and watching pop music videos. Best beer I've had in Colombia so far too. For me, sometimes it's not just about doing the local things but finding weird and out of context places like this.

A few thoughts: the seafood was okay. The specialties are Sea Bass and Red Snapper. I found them to be decent, but nothing blew me away. We looked far and wide for places twice and went to what were reportedly the two best places in town (according to a few Colombian friends and locals). I have no reason to doubt that they are or at least that they are upper eschelon and can be taken as representative. The fish soup that I had, however, was pretty phenomenal. When in doubt go with soup.

There were a ton of buildings like our hotel. As I walked through the city I got the impression that there was an entire world of interesting things - especially great archetecture - hidden behind boarded up doors. Sad, in a way, that so much beauty should go unseen or unused. And I'm disappointed to think of all I probably missed.

Cartagena and Bogota are nearly different worlds. There are the things you would probably guess: size, population, weather, clothing. But also there's a very stark divide in Cartagena. The racial makeup of that section of the country is much different that that here in Bogota. Afro-Colombians make up a small portion of the overall population of Colombia but a very large percentage of the costal populations. Everywhere in the world there are, of course, divides by race and economic class, but in Cartagena it was intense.

One afternoon, we took a trip to a fishing village for lunch. We ended up taking only a tour because we couldn't find a restaurant that looked sanitary. As we drove from Cartagena to this village (only 4 miles or so down the road) we passed a large development with dozens of high-rises containing exclusive condos and then literally on the next block we came to the entrance to this village. The road was just a hard packed bit of beach and even that was washed out every few hundred meters. The village had some poverty issues. That was obvious enough from sight - it was really just a collection of shanty houses strung along the beach. With "restaurants" in front of each one all the way along. These restaurants were just thatch roofs propped up over some plastic tables and hammocks.

We also talked about it as we drove along. The village has run into a horrible bit of economic irony. Cartegnans stopped eating there because conditions were not sanitary. Now there is no money coming in to improve conditions. And all the best restaurants moved away or closed. This all leads to a disturbing phenomenon: whenever a car enters the area swarms of young men descend, trying to stop the car and force it to their restaurant. Most of them fell away as our cab continued on but two of them chased the taxi for the entire length of the beach. There's no money coming in so these's guys literally have to chase it.

The feeling in the taxi was impotence. There were 5 of us in the cab. Myself excepted, there were 4 people who work at the poorest university in Bogota. Who dedicate themselves to educating the kids who can't afford to go anywhere else, who dedicate their lives not only to their teaching but to improving education in their country and in latin america as a whole. These are people who also volunteer and research for the underprivileged and the disadvantaged - the good guys - if good guys can exist, these are they. And yet here was this feeling of nothing to be done. This is a problem, here, there, all around the world, without any ready solutions (at least, that is, for regular folks. I won't go in to whether the powers that be could do something about it, that's not my point here).

I've always found some sort of solace --sick as it may be, it's a fair coping mechanism -- as I travel around the world and I see people who have a hard plight, that I could do more, that I could spend more of my time to help and to change. Well, here I was with a group of people who are doing all they can. Who have no more time or energy to give and that rationalization just didn't work. It wasn't true. Life is just fucked up. Maybe in years and years things will be different and better (could be, well again, that's a different discussion, one for my anarchosyndiclist blog), but it wasn't going to happen for these people of this village -- and they just one of hundreds of thousands around the world. It's a depressing thing. Sometimes, my friends, I just don't know. Well, that's not true. All the time, I don't know. Sometimes it hurts more.

I have to say that one of the things that I love about Bogota is that it doesn't hide its poverty. I find the myriad ways that cities of the world hide and isolate their poor disturbing. I've seen a lot of it and it's always a source of shame for me. Bogota of course has some of this. But the greatest part of the city - the heart of the city - has homeless people all around. There's trash everywhere. I see informal recyclers on every street corner. There's no attempt - at least that I've ever seen - to shew these people or to remove them from the company of the homed. Also, there are quite a few buskers and quite a few informal artisans hawking their talents and their wares, and Bogotanians -- as I have seen it -- have shown not only generousity towards these people but acceptance. From what I can see, from what's on the surface, the populace has a very gentle and empathetic heart. Life is beautiful and horrible all at once, I suppose. But then you already knew that - and these are just a few observations and an emotional response or two...

Death Blow and Other Movies You Should See

I've wanted to write this post for a while. I'm glad to finally get around to it. It's got nearly nothing to do with traveling, but it does have to do with my other favorite thing to do: watch movies. Plus, it's another list. They tell me to include lists on my blog

This list is dedicated to recommending movies that I really like over movies that I feel are very overrated. Without further ado the Top 5 movies you should see instead of more famous but overrated ones:

1. Watch Scarecrow instead of Midnight Cowboy. Very similar films in terms of setup. Down and out hustlers hatching schemes and trying to eek out an existence. I much prefer the acting in Scarecrow. I've never been a big fan of Dustin Hoffman. Though he gives a quality performance as Ratso Rizzo, instead check out an early Pacino performance.

Just before Dog Day Afternoon, Pacino was in the midst of doing some great work before he became an overactor in the 80's. The real star is Gene Hackman. He was also in the midst of a great run and followed this up with another film I'll get to later on down the list. I'll take Hackman over the wooden Jon Voigt any day of the week. This is quality 70s realism. Midnight Cowboy now feels like a melodrama. In its day it got an X-rating and was a trend setter. But it doesn't hold up.

2. In the Valley of Elah instead of The Hurt Locker. Let me start with an apology. I've been a Katherine Bigelow fan since her Strange Days in 1995. Hurt Locker bored me. It didn't quite know what it wanted to be. There was a story in there somewhere, but I'm lost as to what's there to drag you in and hold you. I didn't care about any of the characters.

In the Valley of Elah, on the other hand, convinced me to care about its characters. It's based on a great article "Death and Dishonor" by Mark Boal. Check it out, but not at work. It was published in Playboy. The film version adds a superfluous Charlize Theron but otherwise I think they nailed it. Tommy Lee Jones oozes guilt and regret over his role in his son's death as he simultaneously investigates its physical cause. I think this film sells the effects of war on us humans beautifully and much better than its oscar-winning counterpart.

3. The Conversation instead of the Godfather films. So maybe you have to watch the Godfather films if you've never seen them. They're part of American film history. It's like reading The Scarlett Letter. You have to do it even if it's not the most pleasurable thing to do. I don't dislike the Godfather films. I just think that they are vastly overrated. If this list has not already clued you in, I'm a big acting guy. Give me a great performance over cinematic art any day. Many of my favorite films combine the two. I don't feel that way about the Godfather. It has Brando. Long past his prime and holding on by a thread. He'd long since become a charicature like Pacino and DeNiro are today. I love John Cazale. He's phenomenal. But he's in the film for 5 minutes and he's much more prominently featured in the Coversation. Al Pacino bores me in this film, he's emotionless, like an early version of Keanu Reeves. Diane Keaton, James Caan, Robert Duvall?? They're all servicable. I like them as character actors. I'm not a fan of a single film that one of them had to carry as the lead actor.

The Conversation features another great turn by Gene Hackman. I love this Hackman peformance. Cazale's at his best. It's a near pitch perfect film about paranoia, technology and lonliness. If you like Atonioni's Blow-Up, as I do, you may notice that this hits a similar tone. The Conversation features one of my all-time favorite endings. This is my favorite Coppola film.

4. Jackie Brown instead of Pulp Fiction. Sticking with the same director different film theme, I love Jackie Brown. It's a great love story hidden under a crime caper. Pulp Fiction is funny. It's cute. I like large portions of it. In the end there's not much there. There are a series of very quotable conversations and some great lines. But I feel a little vapid watching it. It's cool. It's hip. It's a fun bit of candy. The 15 minutes between Mia Wallace and Vincent Vega, excepted. And I'm convinced that's what led to Jackie Brown.

There are many things I love about this film. It's a love story. Between two middle-aged people. It's an interracial love story. It's a classic love story. They fall in love the moment they first set eyes on one another. But then no one went to see it and it's been forgotten and poor Quentin Tarantino had his creative heart broken and went back to making vapid hipster movies. If you like classic love stories. And as a bonus you want to watch one you may not otherwise see (because ick, they're old and wow, they're of different races) go rent it.

5. Get Carter instead of No Country For Old Men. Okay, these films are a bit far apart in years and the plots are very different, so why the comparison? It seems everyone loved NCFOM because of Javier Bardem's performance. I like it too. I hate the movie. Get Carter, the original Michael Cain film, is how to make a movie about a really bad guy. One of the points I'd like to make with this list is that certain films combine with certain performances to pull you in and invest you in the story they are trying to tell. NCFOM failed miserably at this, in my opinion. Okay, so he was a cool bad guy, so what? Why the heck am I watching this? I didn't care about any of the characters. I didn't care what happened to any of them. And neither did the film. A couple hours just passed...

I'll take Get Carter. Michael Cain's carter is a souless killer. He watches people die with detatchment and indifference. The film makes sure we know he's a psychopath. But Cain's performance - full of anger and (I have to believe Heath Ledger borrowed this for his Joker) cruel laughter - delivers the film. We care what happens. We don't care about Carter. The film lets us know that too, but we do care that he gets his revenge. It's hard not to be pulling for it even as you detest Carter. For me, that's what NCFOM failed to do. Skip it, watch the original with Michael Cain at the peak of his chops.

The Sexual Life of Catherine M. is much more boring than you'd think

Last week was the Festival of Books in Bogota. Authors from all around the world come as its considered to be one of if not the most important such festivals in Latin America. Alissa's university hosted a panel discussion with Catherine M (Millet), famous for her unflinching memoir of her sexual deeds in the late 60's. I was really excited to hear her talk. She has just published a second book, Jealousy, which deals with, among other things, how jealousy rears its head even in sexually liberal and open circles where hangups are not supposed to exist. I thought it would be fascinating to hear her talk about these two things. Ugh. Not so. She didn't even come close to interesting me. Maybe she's doesn't like public speaking. Mabye she wasn't feeling well. But it wasn't fun.

Who was fun, though, was the other featured panelist Gilles Lipovetsky. If you're not familiar, he's a French philosopher (at the Univ. of Grenoble if I'm not mistaken) who deals with issues of hyper-modernity (preferred to post (*gasp*) modernity) and the individual. The topics are not new, but he deals with them in a thoughtful and insightful manner.

One of the big things that is on his mind is the continuation of the movement towards the supremacy of the individual. I especially like the way he discussed how the internet and globalization have altered social dynamics. I often am turned off by discussions of how our age is soooo different from other times. But his points here were well made. He discussed how parents don't have complete (or even most of the) control over information as well as family finances. Kids can hop online and see or read whatever they like. They can buy things at low cost from almost anywhere. And individual possession has altered dramatically. People from almost all economic classes can buy whatever they want. There aren't a lot of things that are exclusively the domain of one class anymore.

He didn't offer any anwers. He just offered the paradoxes that this creates in our society. I won't bore you with more details, but he talks about how this interacts with regulation, global science (global warming), industrialization and pollution, religion and government. I highly recommend at least checking out an article or two of his (at least), if you like this sort of thing.

If I haven't lost you by now, I have to mention the most successful part of this engagement (for me, that is). The panelists spoke exclusively in French. Headsets were provided for translation, but into Spanish. I can't understand a lick of Spanish not on the topic of food. So the headsets were no good for me. I had to give it a go listening to the whole talk in French. And... Success!! I understood the bulk of both talks. I'd put it at around 90%. To be fair, they were speaking slowly and clearly for the benefit of the translators, but still, I'm very proud of myself. My French has never been that great, I thought, but apparently a fair bit of it has stuck in my brain. So I learned that I can understand French okay in a roomfull of Spanish speakers in Bogota.

Early Impressions of Bogota

Any description of Bogota would have to start, I think, with the fact that it is a big sprawling noisy chaotic mess. That's a lot of adjectives, but Bogota is big. There's a lot going on here. It's amazing how it all works with decent fluidity. More adjective, I know. I'll try to calm down. I can compare it to New York in size and population. It's also similar to New York the way that there's a new neighborhood around every corner. But there's just so much more clutter. There are a constant stream of Busetas down every major street. Constant. There are thousands of them. They are little commuter buses run by God knows who. But they blanket the city and can get you anywhere you want to go. Like New York there are Taxis too. Millions of them. Though you can't get one when it rains because Bogotenos don't like to get wet. Despite this they don't like to wear hats. Apparenty, it's a bit of a rebellion against the stodgy 50's and 60's when everyone wore hats. In any event the streets are hive-like during the day with pedestrians, taxis and busetas. Also there is the Transmilenio. It's similar to a tram system, but with buses instead. On several of the major streets there are dedicated lanes that only the buses and emergency vehicles can use. There are hundreds of buses that run along these routes daily, zipping along a number of routes. During rush hour, and on some lines all day, these buses are PACKED. If you've ever ridden a subway in Tokyo, you know what I'm talking about. As Alissa likes to phrase it, you're smushed in boob to boob. So these zip along at nearly all hours of the day, from 5 and until 11, depending on the route.

Graffiti is everywhere. It's like I imagine NYC was in the 70's (or at least thanks to the Warriors). Everywhere. The lower parts of every wall at every university building -- even the big walled off private ones -- are covered. A lot of it's political. Some of it is beautiful. Much of the city is gray and grimey. I have the same opinion of Bogota as I do of Los Angeles: it's much prettier at night and when it's raining.

But the city is lots of fun and we've had a good time so far when we've ventured out and about. I've yet to have any really good restaurant food. And the local beer is awful. But there's a cool vibe in many neighborhoods and in one in particular that is close to us (called the Macarena) that we've enjoyed frequenting. And despite it's reputation, we've found Bogota to be fairly safe and navigable. Don't get me wrong, as I wrote before, there are lots of sketchy people and places here, but the gernally atmosphere is a congenial one. Everyone here, everyone, says hello and goodbye. Of course not while walking through a crowd, but anytime there is personal contact people say hello (what's new and/or good day/afternoon/evening are most common) and goodbye (see you later is the most common phrase). No one walks by our doormen without at least a nod. Everyone says hello on elevators. Every store clerk says goodbye as you leave. And I have to say that I like it. It's nice to live in a city where people want to cultivate a sense of community.

It's still a bit strange being a noticeably foreign person. I still get stares and glances. I suppose it will never really go away. But it's more comfortable now. I've run into enough people who just don't care and who put up with my awful Spanish wihtout complaint to conclude that there will always be some but most are happy to welcome us.

Looking forward to a trip to the carribean the weekend after next. We're visiting the old city of Cartegena and I'm really looking forward to it. It was #1 on my list of things to see before we came here. I suppose Medellin is next. Hopefully, I'll have some good things to blog about both.

I Forgot to Mention -- Tapas in Toledo

We took a day trip from our stay in Madrid to Toledo. It's a walled and generally very medieval town about an hour or so outside of Madrid. It's very beautiful and worth a trip if you're nearby, though I would strongly recommend if you only have time for one day trip that you go to Avila instead. Toledo is very pretty, but Avila is, for some reason, much less touristy and you have a freer go of the place. It's only an hour and a half from Madrid and the train ride there is lovely. It's also walled and has a winding medieval core.

The reason I'm writing about Toledo is this phenomenal Tapas bar we visited. Not a stone's throw from the Cathedral it was quiet and as far as I could tell had only locals. We spent the bulk of our 3 hours in Toledo in this bar. I'll have to look up the name and post it. We ate most of our meals at Tapas bars in our week's time in Spain and this was the one that we'd been looking for. It was the "classic" experience that I hadn't had before but had always wanted. We stood at the bar and had a few rounds of beers. With each round the bartender would give us a tapa (this is typical, any decent tapa bar does this). And in between we would ask to try the different tapa that were displayed in a case in front of us. Each of them were delicious. Meanwhile we got to chatting with the bartender and his mom (they ran the bar together), at least Alissa did and translated for us. We got to try some really great and original dishes. The beer was perfect for a hot summer day. And at the end we had this excellent Spanish coffee liquer. I wish I could tell you the name, but we got it wrong and when we bought a bottle we wound up with a funky licorice liquer. It was my dream tapas experience.

I think my reason for telling this story is this: stop in to every little out of the way place that you pass by and try a little something. If you're lucky and it's good you could have the gustatory experience you've been pining for.

The name of the bar, by the way: Casa Antonio.

Our View

Not a bad place. The apartment is nice, and new. It's in a secure building. In the business district. Like LA's, it's quite populous and happening during the day and a bit empty and a little sketch at night. Exept on weekends that is: there's a thumping club just below our windows on weekends. I don't even bother trying to sleep until 3 am on Saturday nights.

The pic gives you a taste of Bogota weather too. Everyday is mostly cloudy. The sun breaks through everyday too. Rain comes every so often. The mountain in the back is Montserrate and forms the entirety of the eastern border of Bogota. Everything in Bogota runs north, south, or west.

What the Hell Is That?

One of my favorite things to do is cook. I love cooking. I fancy myself pretty decent at it. I know how to steal some good recipes, but mostly I like to have a go and throw some things together. Colombia is a wonderful place for that. The weather is pretty much the same all year round. Everything is always in season. The fruit and veg I'm familiar with is phenomenal and tastes as fresh and flavorful as any I've had elsewhere (oh the Mango, oh the sweet sweet Mango, and the Pineapple. Mmm). But the real treat is running into dozens of things I've never seen before.

We took a trip to a farmer's market yesterday. They had things there that Colombians don't recognize. Stuff pulled out of the belly of the Amazon and piled on a table. They great thing is that, unlike many other things here, produce is quite affordable so you can grab a little bit of everything and bring it home to try. Walking by one of the tables I asked my friend if he had seen this vegetable before. Had he tried it? Did he know what it was. No, he replied, adding. Get it. Try it out. So I came home and googled it (he went home and asked his Colombian roomate). Turns out it's a relative of a cucumber. But it tastes more like a mild pepper (think yellow wax pepper). It cooks just like a mild pepper too. Then there's the exotic fruit. We have a few varieties on our shelf at the moment. You cut them open, have a look, and then have a try. It's like all the fun of old-school experimentation without the worries about poison. The fruit juice alone is a new world of food. Lots of different fruits are good for juicing. I don't know the names of half of them, but they are good.

If you're in the neighborhood, come on down, stop by and I'll whip up a little something for you.

The farmer's market is in this great neighborhood too. By great I mean that kind of great neighborhood you see in early Martin Scorcese films. Strung-out under-age prostitutes swaying in doorways while their pips spin business on cell-phones. Alissa and I had thought about walking to it. It's not far from our house. Maybe a mile and a half. But we took the metro a mile and figured we'd walk the last half mile. We made it about 100 feet before we decided it was best to flag down a bus. I'm sure it would have been fine. It was the middle of the day on a Sunday. Sometimes you just feel like taking a bus.

While I'm Discussing Things Over My Head: Spain, Colombia, and the Cost of Living

I'm determined to read more on economics. The week I spent in Spain and now the two plus weeks I have been in Colombia: I wonder, how can anyone here afford anything? The average income in Spain is not terribly high. I know it's very low relative to the US here in Colombia. But things cost the same or more than they would in the US. And not just luxury goods like a computer or a car. Going out to eat in both places is very expensive. In Madrid, okay, I can imagine there are enough people of some means who can afford to go out there regularly. And the ownership situation is different. Many building have been in the family for generations and overhead is low. Here, I have no idea who goes out to eat. I was reading up on the average salary of the upper-middle class here. If I made that much I'd go out to eat only a few times a year. Which is fine, I suppose. Maybe going out to eat is a luxury. Sad, I think that it should ever be so, but maybe that's the reality here. What I'd like to know is, who's patronizing these places enough so that they all stay in business? I can't imagine there's enough business to go around. It stumps me. Any economists out there or people who know such thing (Gladwell fans?) - shoot me a comment, let me know. I'm stumped.

While you're at it. The other thing I wonder is: is there a crash coming? There's no infrastucture here. Unemployment is high. Should I be on the lookout for a "market correction?"

I'm sure there's going to be one in Spain (correct me if I'm wrong). But the EU seems to be doing them a disservice in many ways. They can't keep up with the price of the Euro. Unemployment is high. Salaries are low, but prices keep rising commensurate with the growth of the European economic community. Germany, France. Their holds seems tenuous. How can Spain hold on? Anyone in the know have any thoughts on this?

A Few Closing Thoughts on Time, Tide, and Race

I had a conversation on my third night in South Africa that has been quite thought-provoking for me and that has stayed with me since.

I stayed up one night to watch the U.S. Open with our B&B host. He was a big golfer and a fan of the sport. It's a pretty big sport among South Africans and you may remember that there was a touching national moment when a white South African golfer won the British Open and hugged his black South African caddy in the celebration. The round didn't start until very late in SA so we watched highlights and had some tea.

I tried at first to keep the conversation lighter: I brought up sports and animals (Kruger NP, if you remember, was only an hour away), but as conversations do, we started asking the getting to know you questions. From our end: how long have you had this B&B, have you always run a B&B, how did you meet your wife, etc. As it turned out, our host originally hailed from Rhodesia / Zimbabwe. He had left home for London at a young age, and had worked his way to owning several grocery stores. He then sold his grocery stores and invested the profits in a ranch back home in Rhodesia / Zimbabwe. Then the revolution came. He lost everything. His ranch was burned to the ground. The war was decided by a peace accord, a power-sharing one. Within a year Robert Mugabe was in charge. Depending on your point of view or your source Mugabe is somewhere between a failure as a leader of a country and a cruel strongman (he has been accused of many bad things, including killing journalists).

Whatever your stance, some things that can give you an idea of where the country is now: the economy of R/Z has plummeted since Mugabe took power (by 40% - some blame Mugabe, some blame international sanctions, my guess is the truth lies in a combination thereof) and the principals on which he came to power (land reform, improved quality of life for the black majority) have largely stalled and / or failed (whites still own much of the arable land; land reform can't quite happen as the economy depends on their output; the Catholic Church has, rightly or wrongly, accused the government of destroying what was once the best education system on the continent, life expectancy has fallen dramatically in recent years). I state all of this only to try to paint a picture of what it must be like to see a country that you loved (love) change so dramatically and so dramatically for the worse. No matter whose fault, if that can even be ascertained, a series of events have occurred to harm R/Z.

I think about two things, mostly, when it comes to this situation. (1) How hard it must be to see this happen. To lose everything. To see the land that you love so harmed. To have to live with that pain. (2) As a lesson for South Africa.

I am very much in favor of one person one vote. I think that generally Democracy is a good thing. Certainly I think it's the best thing after a regime (such as in R/Z and in SA) in which many people were disenfranchised and discriminated against. But there is a danger in this rush for equality. If the process does not slow down and take the time to do things right, you end up destroying everyone instead of creating equality over time. It's a hard thing to do in the immediate. When you see so much suffering, so much that was and remains unfair.

I don't pretend to have a perfect answer. I just hate to see a great country like SA hurt itself by rushing into decisions. Maybe the better road is to rush in, to correct the racial inequality, deal with the consequences and then build the country anew. I was never the victim of something so horrible. Maybe from that situation you can only want immediate equality. But I look at R/Z and I see that equality never happened. That the country was ruined economically but white landowners still own most of the land and produce most of the revenue. The politicians have gotten fat, it appears. Certainly they are in SA. The new president was once charged with several hundred charges of corruption. All dropped.

Anyway, I found it hard not to feel for this man. To have built a life with his own two hands only to watch it all torn away and burned. We all have our acts of omission, if not of commission. Every act, every decision in these circumstances is going to hurt someone.

How do you build a country out of such cruel circumstances? How do you build a country which doesn't try to tear down and destroy the past? How do you build up a previously disadvantaged people without harming the people who were advantaged before? South Africans seem to have the right attitude. They want to forgive and move forward. They seem to want to build a better future together. I just hope the politicians don't ruin it.

Arriving in Madrid, Hanging with the Boys and the World Cup

Quite by accident, in a footballing sense; Quite purposefully, in terms of the cheapest airline fare, We booked our flight to South Africa through Iberica airlines. We planned from the go to leave South Africa prior to the final, purely with financial motivations. Our flights were 50% less leaving a couple days before the final than if we left after the final. Our itinerary required a 4 day layover in Madrid. We extended it to 6 days.

I must confess that I had tried to convince our group to fly to Berlin for the final. I even spent a few hours looking for cheap flights on the interweb. At the time Germany looked liked world-beaters. Running over through and around the world's best. As fortune would have it, flights were not cheap and we ended up staying in Madrid. As you know by now, Spain, with superior coaching and the greatest team passing I've ever witnessed. This worked out. But not in the same way it would have if I was in my twenties and single.

We watched the first half of the final on the street with about 14 million other people (only a slight exaggeration). I enjoyed the game on the big screen, but my shorter companions missed the game action and we watched the second half in the bar closest to the street which still had standing room. The game, if you didn't watch, was a bit boring. The Dutch played better than most commentators I've read give them credit for. The ref tried his best but lost control of the game. He looked like Jim Belushi before Lou Gossett Jr. helped him out with a baseball bat. The game was chippy and tense. I am biased. The thrill of it all was much improved with a room full of Spaniards living and dying with each touch.

The celebration after the victory was something. I've been in one of these before, in Paris in 2000. This didn't match up. It could be that the first is always the most memorable. The thrill of the new and incomparable. It could be the aforementioned age change. In Paris, I was 21. The world as a whole, and the exoctic Paris, was fresh and aweing. For whatever reason, I was into that one more. A part of it emotionally. This one I watched from a detached place. But there were the aforementioned millions, lots of singing and dancing. I will always remember "Yo soy Espanyol, Espanyol, Espanyol." Joy and exhileration were everywhere.

As I said, the party after the game wasn't for me. The next day we ran into, literally, another happy accident and the reason I will always be glad we spent that week in Madrid. The Spanish team, running, I would wager, on adrenaline alone, flew back to Madrid the very next morning. The parade was to be that very night. We knew of it, but didn't think too much of attending. We had planned to go to the Reina Sofia (the big modern art museum in Madrid, if you weren't aware) that night and actually made a point of leaving a bit early to avoid the crowds. Well, we didn't leave early enough. We had to cross the parade route to get to the museum. We attempted to do so about 2 hours before the scheduled start of the parade. We proptly ran into a wall of Spaniards and we made it no further for the next 5 hours. We sat with our new Spanish neighbors through excitement, false alarms, boredom, fatigue and at long last, the payoff.

The whole thing was a wonderful way to experience a group of people. The range of emotions. The interactions between people waxing and waning with those emotions. And through it all the underlying excitment, the thrill of this commen and exceptional experience, still in the process of occuring. The payoff finally came and the crowd - which had completely filled this enormous and very long avenue and was a beautiful yellow and red sight to behold - errupted. It suddenly went vertical. Outside of northern Europe I can typically see over most crowds, at least fairly well. For 5 hours I could see from end to end the rows of people. When the team bus finally pulled into the street, I could see only straight up. Suddenly, there was another person on top of every other person in the street.

And then the payoff came for us and our little World Cup. The winning team. With the excitement on their faces mirroring that of the little children in the crowd. But then the real surprise, that I hadn't expected (perhaps I should have, living for three years in Buffalo, a hockey-mad town): the World Cup itself. Not 10 feet from me. And there it was in a way. This quest, brought full circle. Gone in search of something in South Africa and winding up face to face with the same thing all of these players and teams and fans pin their hopes on every 4 years. I'm not sure what it means. I haven't finished thinking about that one. But it felt special. It felt like we had completed this quest for a taste of the world at its best.

I'll add, as a final thought, that I loved the familial aspect of this experience. Whereas the streets the night before had been filled mostly with teens and twenty somethings. Whereas alcohol and other sustances had been ever present at the game. The parade was filled with fathers and mothers and sons and daughters. There was an element of the innocence and purity that I hope is what makes the World Cup so special. We can all recapture for a moment the time and place before we became jaded before we were wounded and we can feel, like the Spanish players showed that day, as kids, playing for the title in the back yard.

Zipping Through Wine Country With the Wine-Ocerous

That would be my good buddy Mike, the Wine-Ocerous that is. We each took a few akas on our first few days in SA. I guess it helps keep you sane while you drive for long stretches with crazy South Africans whipping around you at 80 mph on one lane roads while pedestrians walk in the breakdown lane along major highways (for what must be, I was stunned to see, 10 or 20 miles at a clip).

If you've been to a wine shop in the States of late, you have probably seen a fair few South African wines. The quality on many of them is high and it was easy to pick up a good, not just decent, mind you, bottle for 4 or 5 dollars. Our wine tour, which consisted of 4 wineries, was, however, of poor quality. The wine at one of them - on one of the most beautiful estates I've ever seen - was best described by my tasting note: (choke, cough, cough, choke, uhg, ick, what is this? cough, cough). The others reminded me mostly of New York wines - nice try, but who are we trying to fool. For me, it was a spot a bad luck with our selection. Alissa, who likes sweet wines, was well-pleased. All was not a loss. If you like icewines, we did have the best of those I've tasted. And we had a personal wine tour complete with a long walk through the "port" room. Ah. I love the sweet smell of a room full of port in oak barrels. Is there a nicer smell in this world? Maybe, but if so, only a few. The aged ports were not bad and at a fraction of the cost of Portuguese ones, worth a go if you´re in the area.

The wine region - especially the drive into and out of the area - was stunning. You have probably gathered by now that South Africa, as I see it, is full of stunning landscapes and is a pleasure to drive though. This was my favorite. If you're ever in Cape Town, I would venture that you have to take the trip up to wine country. Even if you don't drink, go for the scenery. As a final note on the area I had my second-best South African mean here, if also the most expessive. Roasted duck, avocado and pancetta salad to start, and a Springbok pasta with Springbok gravy. Mmm. Free range, of course.

I'm Tired and I Want to Go to Bed... Tales of Great Whites and More During Our Last Days In South Africa

We left Cape Town and returned to the southern coast of South Africa. We had set out with the vision of visiting Cape Agulhas, the southernmost point of Africa. We arose bright and early and were on the road by 8:30 (early for us anyway). We had booked in at a B&B in a little town called Kleinbaai. For those of you that know a little German or Dutch, the name is accurate. The only restaurant in town closes at 7pm or, in our case, whenever they don't have any customers. We had to drive to the neighboring hamlet to eat, with a choice of 3 whole restaurants. Fitting then, that my best meal in South Africa came at this dinner. Line fish (fish of the day) - which happened to be Angelfish, a rarity even for those parts, with a side of prawns. Mmm.

Before dinner we had arrived about noon with the thought of relaxing a bit and then taking the 1.5 hour drive down to the Cape. Our friendly, as ever, innkeep laughed at the mention of the Cape. Why would you want to go there? It's just a spot. There's nothing to see. You go there and take a picture of you next to the sign and then head back. She then went through the various whale and shark watching excursions and of course mentioned the shark-cage diving for which the area has become famous.

Some of you may remember how excited I was before we left to climb into a shark cage and see the world's perfect (in my humble) animal. Beginning with some discussion the night before and continuing through our morning drive, I realized that shark-cage diving didn't sit well with me. It seemed artificial, forced, the opposite of what our trip had been to that point. We were visitors to the land of the animals - we weren't experiencing them locked up in a zoo. I don't object to zoos. They have great aspects and give lots of people a chance to appreciate animals who might otherwise not get a chance to so do. But this was Africa (T.I.A. man, T.I.A.) and it didn't sit well. In the end, we forsook the shark-cage diving and Cape Agulhas and settled on a whale-watching tour.

Alas, the whale-watching tour sold out before we called over. Our innkeep called around for us and after a bit we wound up having to rush into town to meet a little pontoon boat as it was disembarking. I'm a bit sad to report that one of our party (not I) was a bit put out that we didn't make the trip to Agulhas, but I'm thrilled that we made the choice as we did. In any event, sorry mate.

Our 15 seater chugged out to an island covered, quite litterally covered, in 60,000 seals. Or as our captain described it in typical tounge-in-cheek Afrikaner-style: Burger King for Sharks. When the seals are at the island (during mating season) there are dozens of Great Whites prowling below, waiting for their next meal to come swimming along. We tooled around the island for a while watching the seals (up-wind, thankfully) before trolling over to the spot where the shark-cage boats ply their trade. We floated along in their wake and watched the action. I detested this part of our trip. The boats basically fish for the sharks. They chum the waters, then they cast a dummy seal head into the water and drag it in front of the cages so that a shark attacks, then they pull it out at the last minute and let that shark swim away. It felt as dirty as the not-so-subtle reference in that sentence.

Thankfully, we cut loose from those boats and puttered over to a quieter spot by our lonesomes. The captain cut the engine and his son stomped on the bottom of the boat. Great Whites, I'm told, are by nature curious creatures, and in this spot of the Indian Ocean they have no predators or natural enemies. Sensing a low vibration in the water, they swim over to see what it's all about. After approximately 30 seconds of stomping, the first Great White swam up to our boat and had a look about.

I should take a moment to describe our boat a little further. It was about 25 feet long, flat bottomed, inflated rubber on the sides and some sort of cement / metal mix on the bottom. There were 6 chairs bolted to the cement, a bench-seat for 3-4 at the back (where I sat, with the captains son and his girlfriend), and a stearing-wheel. The sides and back of the boat rose, perhaps, 18 inches from above the water and about 2 feet from the cement bottom. Each chair had a metal handle on the top and one on the back.

We saw 5 sharks as they came up to have a look. The largest of them was approx. 20 feet long. Each swam in figure-eights under the boat, having a look at us from a few angles. Each of them came within a few inches of the surface, with the big-guy breaching inches from us and dipping under the boat at the last moment. Standing up, holding onto the back of a chair, and leaning over the side I was able to watch the sharks doing their thing from less than a couple of feet away. I thought about trying to touch one, but refrained in the end.

My highlight was watching the sharks disappear, not beneath the boat but straight down into the water, and then, moments later, come back up again out of the shadows. Sublime. Stunning. The way they use the refraction of the light in the water to hide from eyes above the surface. Eerie.

I should add that the Indian Ocean was not calm. A storm was headed in from the South. They had cancelled all of the boat trips for the following day just before we departed. The boat rocked up and down on the waves as we watched the sharks, and as I moved left to right and back again along the back of the boat, tracking them as they swam, I had an awareness of how easy it would be to fall in, right on top of the shark. Shiver. Just sublime.

Don't worry mom, the captain told us beforehand that if you fell in the sharks would be more afraid of you than you were of them and would swim away giving the crew time to pull you up...

I'm Back, Was It Empty Without Me? Maybe a Little?

Quoting a white rapper, hmm. The only saving grace is that he's actually quite good.

Been flying along for a little while shuffling between my four lives of the last month, leaving South Africa, a whirlwind tour of Madrid over 5 days, a game of Pin-Morgan and Alissa for 10 days in Massachusetts, and finally the last 5 days zipping around Bogota trying to establish ourselves.

Let me give you a brief account of our status in Bogota so far. So far it's been a lot like my first week at college or at law school. Each day I learn a bit more about the city and each day I buy a few more things to help build a functional life. The funniest thing to me has been the small things that never came to mind in all the shopping trips until I was at home and missed them, a blender, a strainer (or collander, depending on your usage), a vegetable peeler. It's a pain in the ass to have to go out and buy all these little things that I'll maybe use 5 times and then have to leave here. It's also a pain in the ass to not have them when I'd like them. Ah, the dilemmas of a temporary transplant.

For those that haven't been, Bogota has a NYC feel to it. Lots of neighborhoods separated by only a block or two, some really nice, some bohemian, and some a bit dodgy, some far from the center that you'd only go to with a cab and a specific address. It's clean enough, though with that caked on dirt edge to it. The public transportation in fantastic, if crowded. It's quite safe during the day and mostly so at night. Plus there are some really beautiful bits to the city as well including a nice mountain chain running along the east of the city. The weather is always the same here, 60-70 during the day with clouds and sun and sometimes rain.

The countryside around here, which I've only visited once, has that Latin American rural quality. Strung together, kind of messy towns with a colonial square at the center, some decent cheap food and wires everywhere. Cows and chickens running about, fresh air, that smell of mountain and cloud forest.

The people have been lovely so far. Generally nice but a little wary of the 2.1 meter stranger. That said, the people Alissa will be working with have been incredible - generous well beyond your typical welcoming overtones. They drove us to the mall to outfit our apartment (a little studio with an awesome view, when I can I'll get some picutres up. We're on the 11th floor, overlooking the mountains and the city center), drove us to the country to show us something of their homeland and have already taken us out to lunch a couple of times. They are also kind and full of laughter. To top it off, they are very patient with our Spanish, especially mine. And they have already arranged to set up an "exchange" for me, whereby a Colombian student working on his English will meet with me and help with my Spanish and I with his English.

As we settle and then begin to venture around the country more I hope to have much more.

Table Mountain

I hope that you are all enjoying your 4th of July celebrations. Our hostel is doing so with a beer pong tournament. Ah well. If only it was ping pong.

Our personal celebration involved hiking to the top of Table Mountain, the peak that looms over Cape Town. If you're unfamiliar, think a much higher, flatter version of Sugar Loaf in Rio or the Santa Monica mountains in LA (if you swapped them with Century City).

The trail started in the botanical gardens, which were easily the best that I've experienced. Really lovely stuff. I could have spent the entire day just there and if I lived here I'd be a regular visitor. As it was, we took our time heading to the base of the trail and wandered through the gardens for an hour or so.

The hike itself took us about 3 hours, the first half of which was spent climbing up a waterfall, albeit one with a very low water flow. The trail is actually well-maintained and alternates between steps and rocks, though this is not to indicate there was any shortage of rocks to scramble over. It made for a long an exhausting day, but also a myriad of spectacular views. Shortly after peaking the waterfall portion, the trail opens to the air and we beheld beautiful vistas of the Cape of Good Hope and the Atlantic Ocean. Every few feet of the trail presented a new vantage point and it was hard to keep a good pace going. The trail wound its way through a variety of cactus and scrub brush, all very beautiful itself.

All of this would have made for a terrific day , but there was more to come. When we peaked the mountain itself, we saw on the far side a nearly 180 degree view of Cape Town and its surrounds. The city itself is lovely from above, but the view extended out onto Robben Island (if you're unfamilar, a bit like Alcatraz, an island prison and Nelson Mandela's very same for 27 years) and the bay sparkling in the sun.

There's actually a funicular that runs from the city up to the top, and boatloads of tourists take that way up the mountain. To our benefit, the peak is about a 45 minute walk from it, so most of the day visitors didn't wander our way (maybe a couple of dozen did) and we were able to enjoy a nice quite lunch on the peak. The walk back to the funicular (the trail we took is very hard to descend and probably not much fun in a pair of sneakers with the treads worn off) was also spectacular and at one point the cliffs fall off straight down nearly to the city level. We had a bit of fun leaning our heads over the ledge, but it blew my mind a little to take in the entirety of 3400 feet all at once.

It's hard to rank all of the great things we've experienced here so far. They all have been incredible in their own right. This one was another such experience. If you are ever in Cape Town, I'd highly recommend doing the hike. It's a bit strenuous, but you can do it in casual gear and the views are better knowing that you earned them.

All in all, Cape Town has been great and is a city worth visiting on its own. The only one in SA, I'd say, though we didn't make it out to Durban and maybe that's the only other one.

Tomorrow we're off to the Southern tip of Africa, hopefully we'll see some penguins and maybe some sharks (we may go Shark Cage Diving, but we didn't book so it might not come off). Tuesday we do some wine tasting, Wednesday we undertake the day long drive back to Jo'Burg!

Happy 4th of July everyone!

RE: Pictures

Thought I should share that I will be posting pictures to match many of my posts. To date I have not done so, due in large part to the fact that in SA internet usage is often based on MB and not on time. If you're not familiar, blog text takes only a few bytes, but the HQ pics that we've taken on this trip take quite a lot. Once we get to Spain or back to the States (i.e. by 7/10 or 7/17) I'll upload pics to go along (animals, soccer, wild fires, etc.).

That said, I just uploaded a couple attached to my Kruger posts. Not the best -- still have to sort through hundreds for that -- but they give you the idea. The elephants did try to eat us and the Zebra pictured are the actual ones that made my paralyze in fear as I was learning to drive a standard.

The Indian Ocean's not such a bad place

After rolling out of Graff-Reinet we spent a couple of days on the south coast. We spent a night each in Jeffrey's Bay and Buffalo Bay, there's some irony in that last one somewhere. J-Bay as it's known was pleasant enough, but also quite the famous surf spot. It's always a bit akward to be an outsider, J-Bay was no different. We were the posers in their surfer world. We stayed at a surf hostel to boot. To be fair, they were indifferent enough and paid no attention to us as we passed through their world. But we scored a room in the adjacent cottage and, well, it's nice to set your alarm, roll over and watch the sun rise over the Indian Ocean, or any ocean for that matter.

Our next destination blew J-Bay away. Buffalo Bay - again, there's irony in there somewhere - was spectacular. We stayed at a little backpackers on a deserted stretch of beach about 1K down the beach from the village itself. If you make it down to this part of South Africa I highly recommend a stop here. We spent the day on the rocks watching gargantuan waves crash just beyond us (hence the surfers paradise, the tubes are long and high), played cards as the sun set over the water and, as it was my birthday, partied into the night. This trip hasn't been one for partying, but on one's birthday I think it's fair to indulge.

Couple of fun conincidences on this night too. The hostel holds around 20 people. There were maybe 15 of us on this night. One of the others, Richard from outside Norwich England, also was born on the 2nd of July. I've never run into someone with the same birthday as me, ever, until this group of 15. I read that Jose Cansenco was born on July 2, but I've yet to run into him. The second conincidence -- one of the guests was a nurse from California Hospital. The same fine establishment that removed my appendix. And also my one and only hospital stay to date.

Maybe it's just a trick of human life, but I like to believe in cosmic meeting points. I think this is one. Check it out for yourself and let me know...

From Jo'Burg to the Indian Ocean

I was knocked out of action for a few days last week - first we pulled a 10 hour drive from Jo'Burg to Graff-Reinet. I didn't get to see too much of Graff-Reinet, I came down with a little bug after the drive and spent most of the next 2 days sleeping. It was meant to be a bit of a slow down, but I barely made it out of bed. From what I did see, it was a pretty and charming town. The thing about South Africa though, with the exception of Cape Town, is that the towns aren't much of an attraction. The architecture and the city planning are not considerable reasons for visiting. The rugged landscape, the wild animals, the generous people. They're all great reasons. The cities and towns? I wouldn't recommend them on their own.

There's Nothing Quite Like a Huge Gasoline Fire

I couldn't post about how great the South African countryside is without mentioning the huge controlled burns that take place across the east and center of the country. Their smoke make for great sunsets. But it's also quite odd to see groups of men, sometimes in protective gear, sometimes in short pants, shooting flames of burning gasoline into the savannah. We even ran into them in the national parks. They have their own type of beauty, and apparently the reason for them is a wildfire a few years back that damaged a large portion of South Africa's "green" gold -- pine forests.

If you visit in the winter (the dry season for most of South Africa) you'll get to see and smell for yourself.

Have I mentioned that I hate Peter Jackson?

First he turned my beloved Lord of the Rings into an Australian Soap. Then he filmed the blasted thing in New Zealand. Having seen a good swath of South Africa, I can confidently say that the dolt should have filmed them here. Tolkien grew up here. Surely it's terrain inspired much of what he wrote. I think the least Jackson could have done in photographed his films here. Of course this probably wouldn't have prevented his turning the defining adventure tale of my childhood into weepy melodramas...

We've now travelled the entire width of the country and some of it's length. The country is never at a shortage for breathtaking views. It wasn't difficult for us to plot a driving course covering mostly phenomenal views of mountains, sweeping hills, rolling savannah's, and ocean cliffs as we moved 3000 kilometers west to east. The views from our car windows are often stunning and if you come here, I'd wager you'd think it was a shame, too, that Mr. Jackson snubbed its scenery.

Back to Algerians

Algerian fans are phenomenal. Nothing on this trip has compared to the warmth of spirit and heart shown by the Algerians I encountered after the US - Algeria game. I had the pleasure of talking with about 8 or so and had a brief exchange with about a further dozen. All 20 said some version of great game, good luck, I hope you win. The 8 each gave me a handshake, smile, and firm embrace. The outpouring of universal brotherhood moved me quite a bit. I'm not sure I thought it was possible in such a pure form. There has been, in my experience, always some hitch, some group of fans with sour grapes or some who ignore you. This for me was pure the display of brotherhood.

Since this time the experience has not been the same. I mentioned it briefly in my post about the Ghana - US game, but as the crowds have become mixed with many more impartial observers the tone has gone out. The exchanges are more convivial than at a US sporting event, but the feeling of warmth and brotherhood of man has gone away. Perhaps it has something to do with expectation - both the US and Algerian fans fall into the category of lucky to be here kinds. Perhaps its because there is generally less tension in the group stages. I don't know. What I can do, is tip my hat to all the wonderful Algerian fans that I met, and to the US fans as well, who were, I am amazed to admit, gracious winners. At the end of the day life may be no matter how we try or do, solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short, but we can, from time to time, find something good and pure.

Back to my list

I've been mulling over my top 5 favorite guilty pleasure movies from time to time on this trip. I've got a go at it. Version 2.o may come before I leave the dark continent.

1. Hackers
2. Super Troopers
3. Over the Top
4. Showdown in Little Tokyo
5. The Prophecy 3

Responding to comments I've had - Mr. Qualls, I'm looking in your direction - the Big Lebowski and Big Trouble in Little China do not qualify. I think both are legitimate slapstick / parody / farce. Dumb and Dumber too. I think to make this list, I have to be somewhat ashamed to like these films. I'm not at all ashamed about those 3.

Football is more than a game

We, too, bought some gear. We took a few pictures with some Algerian fans and exchanged wishful scorelines with smiles and handshakes. Everyone thinks their team is going to win 2-0. This is an almost universal truth at this (and maybe every) World Cup. I think I heard a 3-1 boast yesterday, which turned out to not be too far from the trutch, alas. But on this day all was right with the world as both teams had dreams of going through with a victory and everyone was in a good mood and hopeful.

The weather didn't hurt. I should note here that the weather in this part of the country has been near perfect to my tastes - a lot like September weather in the northeast. Warm and sunny in the day and cool to cold at night.

Once we took our seats, we held onto them for 90 minutes as the teams battled to a scoreless draw. Algeria played brilliantly and had a couple of great chances to put in a goal. The US played better, but managed only a few real chances. That all changed when Donovan slotted home. The place erupted. Beer, water, clothes all flew around in the celebration as everyone jumped into each others arms. The party continued well after the final whistle too. A crowd of over a hundred fans gathered just outside the stadium and sang for nearly an hour. Many fans gathered at the square to keep the night going. It was far and away the best sporting atmosphere I've been a part of, better even than the Sox winning the series. The great thing was that the celbration was for the Americans what this whole World Cup has been for the world -- a time to put all of our differences aside and to be one people without concern for strife or wrongs both perceived and real.

I'm running out of time on the Web, so I'll leave for later my praise of Algerian fans.

It all works out in the end

We left Sabie - our base town for Kruger and for our daytripping - for Pretoria on 6/22. We bought tickets to US - Algeria on 6/23 before we came here and also picked up some Japan - Denmark tickets on 6/24 while on the ground. We made it in a bit late, but made it out into Pretoria for the end of the South Africa - France game. We watched on a huge outdoor screen with hundreds of other people. The game was lively - SA needed to win by four, quickly raced to a 2-0 lead and then had chance after chance to extend it. Ah well.

We headed off into the city after the game (dark by then) and it was all sorts of sketchy. Sketchy looking Algerians mixing with sketchy looking South Africans. We watched the late game in the square (all the host cities have official big screens for watching games) but made a quick night of it, a little unsure that we would like Pretoria. Turns out it was just a spot of bad timing as game day was phenomenal. We returned to the city in the daylight to find it buzzing with anticipation. Americans and Algerians everywhere buying gear and hanging out in the streets and cafes.

Catching up - Daytripping

Prior to the Italy - NZ game we did a bit of touring around the countryside. This area of SA is quite mountainous. We tried to find a day hike -- we missed the turn off -- and drove up to a place called God's Window. The "Window" and its surrounds had some great views and the hiking around it was also quite beatiful. Alissa and Mike talked me out of doing a 20 story free fall over a gorge. I still think the view would have been lovely. We did find our day hike the next day - it was a very pleasant walk through a little bit of jungle and some pine forest to a warterfall. We finally had a bit of real South African food too. We tried some Ostrich steak. I hadn't had it before. It's pretty darn tasty. A lot like Cow steak.

Football is best described as 90 minutes, 22 players and the Germans (and Brazilians) always win

Tough match yesterday. Thrilling for 90 minutes, and for the last 25 of regulation it seemed certain the US would find the winner. Harsh loss, but in the end deserved. Ghana earned it and the celebrations by all of Africa were pretty cool. Brutal walk of shame back to the car. This World Cup experience has been nothing but phenomenal. I'll talk more about it as I do some catchup blogging on the Algeria game. However, there was quite a lot of anti-American chatter from the neutrals (read non-Africans). Too bad really because the Ghana fans and the South Africans were excellent, wishing us nothing but good luck next time.

You may have seen me and my lot on TV if you watched the game. Reports have said we were on TV no less than three times. If you saw a doofy guy (your author) in a stars and stripes bandana and draped in an US flag next to another doofy guy (Mike) in a blue beanie waving a US flag, next to a lady in a red and white striped beenie and soccer ball sunglasses, well that was us. We sat first row by the "action" goal -- the one where all three saves were made. Our view of the Donovan penalty was fantastic and that moment goes down as my second greatest live sporting experience (behind only his goal in the Algeria game).

This trip has, other than the US loss, shown us nothing but good fortune. The morning of the game Mike and I bought some tickets off a couple of England fans who, as we all did, thought England would win the group. We got them for face value ($100 per), but they were lousy seats off on the far corner (it's a relative lousy though, it's a very small stadium). Alissa didn't want to go, but last minute decided to see if there were tickets available online. So she bought one and off we went.

When we got to the stadium to pick up her ticket we found that the purchase hadn't gone through. The ticket manager turned her away and told her she'd have to track back to the park and ride then drive another 15K to a ticket shop to get a ticket. One of the ladies behind the counter felt badly and, after getting the manager out of the room, gave Alissa a free ticket - front row. Alissa noticed that the ticket was part of an unsold block. We decided to sit with her and see if they sold (at this point we were an hour before game time). We figured the odds were in our favor. As it turns out, we were right, and we had a great game, not 20 yards from the touchline.

More to Come

Including a recount of the incredible US v. Algeria game. I'm still reeling. What a nightit has been! Ole Ole Ole Ole USA USA!

World Cup game on a Whim

We overheard two interesting tidbits at breakfast on our second day. One, that if the SA police pull you over and say that you must pay a fine that you should say that you have no money and wish to pay at the nearest station. Two, that Italy and New Zealand had a game this day only an hour away. Both bits paid dividends. We bought tickets to the game and a sublime experience ensued. We were (I driving in fact) pulled over by the police and, with a plea to the effect of the above, were let off with a "you're okay" and a thumbs up.

The game itself was middling at best. New Zealand played the game of their lives and Italy were, I'm afraid to say, boring. They should have done much better. But the live game in SA was worth every penny. The TV broadcasts show the Vuvuzelas as a noxious hum. In fact they bring a great vibrancy to the live games. The pulse of the game is high and unwaning. We sat only a few rows from the field, but it was the horns and the convivial energy of the crowd that made it memorable. We had a blast at the game. However, it wasn't until the shuttle back (to the park and ride) that the transcendent experience came. We were "trapped" at the back with a group of 20 South Africans. They sang. They blew Vuvuzelas. We danced. We laughed. It was wonderful. They were wonderful. I can without reservation say that they are a wonderful people. As we were getting off the bus one of them stopped me and said: "You are welcome in South Africa any time." It was an unnecessary, but touching, gesture, and indicative of the warm South African spirit.

As we waited for the traffic to clear, a group of 20 something South Africans welcomed us to dance with them. More of the same...

Addendum to Kruger

Some of my readers may have fun or interesting stories about where and when they learned to drive. I think I have them beat. On top of the incredible wilderness experience of Kruger, it was on these roads through the wilderness that I learned to drive a manual. On the wrong side of the road. With the stick shift on the left hand side. I suppose it was better for a few Zebra to have to deal with my stalling engine than fast driving South Africans. At this point I can say that I have spent more time driving a stick shift on the wrong side of the road than on the right...

The animals tried to sit on my car

Day 1 - we ventured into Kruger National Park. It's like Yellowstone, but instead of trees there are herds of wild animals. Imagine that someone carved a road through a wild savannah. That's Kruger. We entered the gate and within 2 minutes we had encountered a herd of Giraffe. They grazed just outside our car window. They appeared oblivious to our presence. We had the same experience with Elephants, Zebras, Baboons, Buffalo, Impala, and Wildebeest. An elephant nearly poked his head in our car. The experience was, without exaggeration, transcendent. I felt like I was a fly on the wall in their world. Incredible. I cannot recommend a trip to this part of the world enough. It is something else altogether.

Dazed and Confused

Sorry my "loyal" readers that it has been so long since my last post. I did not expect to have such a hard time finding internet access. I finally, have some, and there is much to report. I will try to post in chronological order for your benefit. Suffice it to say, this has been close to a perfect week (minus Kobe getting credit for an NBA title despite going 4 - 26... what did he do exactly).

Entry No. 1

Hello and welcome to my travel blog. I hope to cover a few things more than my travels, but this should provide a convenient place for me to update one, two, or more of my friends while I'm out and about. I'll try to be good and have set an every other day goal for myself. Fingers crossed.

The blog site I read before I started this thing said that people who read blogs like lists: so I'll start you off with a partial list, inspired by my recent viewing of #6. Top ten guilty pleasure movies: (1) Hackers... (6) Eurotrip. That's all I have for now. I'll keep thinking about it.