:) THE NON-BLOG BLOG

Many of you have asked us why we don't have a blog. Our only response is that we don't have time for it. However, you've correctly pointed out that we're already doing it via some of the "Blackberry Messages
from around the world" that some of you receive.


We've decided to post the ones with the most comments received:


  :: Down in the Lounge
Many people have asked me if I've seen the movie "Up In The Air". My usual response is: 'Seen it? I've lived it!' The movie hit home on many levels, and found it a very accurate portrayal of road warriors: how we pack, the lines we choose at security, the loneliness of being on the road, and all the things we do to maximize our travel experience -and points.

Fortunately, my recent travels haven't been as extensive or as exhaustive, mainly same time zones and short flights, but the movie did make me think of all the miles, hotels, encounters, bonus points, upgrades and status earned in the last decade of my life -conservative estimate is that half of that time has been spent on the road.

This year I had to spend two entire days -on different occasions- at airport lounges and had plenty of time to reflect on how our modern journeys have changed from the days of Orpheus and El Cid. Instead of fighting dragons to protect a village or win the heart of a beautiful maiden, we're just fighting for armrest and storage space. We now have GPS on every mobile device, allowing us to find places easier, yet it is still as hard to find ourselves and our True North.

We no longer endure weeks, months, or years (ten like Odysseus, or 40 years like Moses) in our journeys. We now can pretty much get anywhere within 18 hours of flight. We now fight jet lag instead of orcs and minotaurs. Instead of worrying about being slain by a giant, we worry about being groped by a TSA agent. Instead of wayfarer taverns, we now have airport lounges which serve as a bubble within a bubble.

Pico Iyer has written about airports being "international convenience zones" where one can pretty much live for days on end while having access to any necessity (with the exception of 'Air Strips', but that's a different topic). They are really mini-cities operating 24/7. Heathrow even recently named Alain de Botton their Writer-in-Residence, a first of any airport.

Despite being somewhat jaded about flying, I still like the possibilities those planes at the gates represent: dozens of dreams, goals and desires in one single airplane achieved by the miracle of flight. Couples and families reunited. Deals completed. Vacations and honeymoons fulfilled. Endless destinations and itinerary combinations. I also appreciate the tranquility of being up in the air. Not being disturbed by calls, texts, emails, sexts, and other updates. Those few hours floating at 35,000 feet are the few remaining zones we can be still without interruptions if we so desire and would vehemently oppose allowing cell phone usage in the air. (Add a noise reduction headset and you're all set.)

Being a 'Global Soul' (another Pico Iyer expression), I always struggle a bit when asked about 'home', but all these travels and journeys have made realize, like Peter Favre (one of the first Jesuits) said, that 'The road is my home". Ironically, I came to realize this not up in the air, but down in the lounge.


  :: From Sin City to Saint City
Recently drove from Las Vegas to St. George, UT and it's incredible what contrasts can be seen on a two-hour drive. Leaving all the lights and excess of Sin City one heads north on interstate 15 thru the Apex Landfill, America's largest dump. (With the proposed nuclear waste site at nearby Yucca Mountain, Nevada should get inspiration from the Gadsen Flag and change their motto to 'Don't Dump on Us!').

The scenery changes quite dramatically and starts looking like Mars -I have never been to Mars, but all the movies filmed there look like this red rock desert. This all changes past the Arizona - Utah border where green finally appears. Also out of nowhere, and if one is lucky to arrive at night, the one thing that stands out is the St. George Utah Temple of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. This simple building -this is the Church's third temple- brightly lit serves as reference point for the entire area. Contrast that to all the neon in Las Vegas where each hotel is competing with the next as to who can be brighter and more obnoxious -with the Luxor's beam allegedly visible from space. Again, I have not been to Mars.

Incidentally, the town is not named after the dragon slayer, but instead after George Smith, the cousin of Joseph Smith, founder of the LDS Church. The Mormon influence is noticed by the lack of bars anywhere, again a marked contrast from Las Vegas where it seems like every night is Mardi Gras, and it is not uncommon to see people drinking beer from 4 feet cups on the street.

All these contrasts reminds us of why this is a great land. A simple two hours drive can span so many differences in culture, religion, development, history and scenery. Now, if all extremes could learn to live a little better with each other, and we learn to find the saintly in the sin and sin in the saintly. As Oscar Wilde put it: 'Every saint has a past, every sinner has a future'.


  :: Sundance
Decided to check out Brigham Young University. Engraved on the main entrance are two slogans ‘The world is our campus’ -clearly they have not heard of Semester at Sea- and the other inscription says: ‘Enter to learn, go forth to serve’. The spirit of both engravings is noticed on their main streets, Center St. and University Ave., where restaurants and stores with food from all over the world are represented like a culinary Epcot.

I was looking for a decent place to grab a bite and a drink. Someone suggested I check out Sundance, and it was like finding a $20 bill in a jean you have not worn in some time. A quick drive through the Uinta National Forest took me to this spectacular place with an awesome view of Mount Timpanogos. At first I was confused, because I had always wrongly assumed it was a town and not a resort. (You always see images of people walking down snow covered streets for the Sundance festival, which is actually in Park City). The place is spectacular and has incredibly friendly staff. Superb dinner at the main restaurant, The Tree Room, with a surprisingly good wine list –considering the area.

Was heading towards the parking lot when a couple passed me looking for the Screening Room. Hmmm…I decide to follow them up the hill for a few minutes walk towards an event. There’s a guy at the door with the ever present clip board seen at all special events. I tell him I’m not on the list and say nothing more. He looks at me and tells me to stand on the side. Lots of great looking people check in and proceed to walk in the theatre. I have no idea what they are going to see. Mr. Clipboard tells me I can go in. Grab free popcorn and wait –still not knowing what this is all about. The manager of the Screening Room gets on stage and says that with much regret Mr. Redford cannot be with us. Exquiz me?! He says that he’s very excited to have us all here for a special screening of ‘Butch Cassidy and Sundance Kid’ on its 40th anniversary!

He said that ‘Mr. Redford’ had only seen the movie once since making it -some 10 years ago- but could not bear to watch it again on account of Paul Newman recently passing. But, he still wanted us to enjoy his movie –in the original roll- in his theatre! And what a great movie it is. Snappy dialogue, with some awesome lines: ‘Don’t ever hit your mom with a shovel. It will leave a dull impression on her mind’, ‘I’m not picky. As long as she’s pretty. And smart. And kind. And…’, and the best one: ‘Oh, good, for a moment I thought we were in trouble’ right before they step out to face half of the Bolivian army! We have not rooted for the bad guys this much since ‘Heat’ and highly recommend it if you haven’t seen it in a while –or ever at all like us.

So, like the original pioneers not knowing what’s behind the next hill, sometimes you have to trust your instinct and expect that there is something good waiting for you. You just have to be open-minded and go with the flow. The sun does dance in the morning.
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  :: On the interwebs and relationships
Been thinking about the interwebs and relationships lately. Having finally joined the Face for a while now, I've found it a great tool to keep in touch with some lost friends -a comedian recently said that it is a great way to reconnect with people you've been avoiding the last 20 years! It has also created some angst shared by many friends: whom to accept and whom to defriend can carry a heavy burdens. What to do with co-workers? Exes? How to respond to excessive poking? What about those that are just voyeurs that are not adding much value? (We are all voyeurs in this space though).

I haven't succumbed to writing on the status/what's on your mind bar. Fernando is… 'trying to live heroically', 'listening to incense' or 'trying to become the Second Most Interesting Man in the World' always come to mind, but don't want to fall with the 'just found a parking spot!'/'ate a mango mochi!' crowd.

There is a complex algorithm as to who stays and who goes for me. Among the parameters, it has to do with the Dunbar number, where the friend lives, how long we've known each other, and whether we are on each others mobile phones and holiday card lists. It kills me how some people meet you once and they instantly want to become your 'friend'. Or worse, when they haven't even met you! Of close cyber uncouthness are those who live 5 minutes from you, never make a true effort to maintain a friendship, yet insist on being friends on the Face?!

And this is perhaps what bothers me the most. That with all these modern tools, people think that sending a text here, a poke there, they can maintain a relationship. Phones were invented to talk! Call me old-school, but I still love dialing a friend just to say hi. And nothing inspires me more to send a hand-written note more than coming home to a pile of credit card applications and donation requests.

Frequent readers will protest that I've been against most of the recent technological advances: the Palm Pilot, texting (simply because my super-awesome Samsung SPH-i500 could redirect satellites, but could not respond to a simple text. Thank you Sprint: You are dead to me!), LinkedIn, et cetera, but have quickly become an evangelist once I've adapted to the change. (Despite a friend saying to me 'You will never get a job through LinkedIn', the last five job opportunities I had recently came from this site including my current job, and have been able to connect many people through it).

If anything, these two social tools highlight the importance of those around us and keeping in touch with our networks. Two recent quotes have reinforced the importance of relationships in our lives:

'Social scientists estimate that about 70 percent of our happiness stems from our relationships, both quantity and quality, with friends, family, coworkers, and neighbors', quoting Eric Weiner from his entertaining and insightful 'The Geography of Bliss'.

George Vaillant, a Harvard psychiatrist who has been tracking the lives of 268 students from the Harvard classes of '42-'44, has also come up with some incredible insights. When asked what he has learned from one of the most comprehensive studies on psychological development through life, he says: 'The only thing that really matters in life are your relationships to other people' (For more on this fascinating study, there's a superb article by Joshua Wolf Shenk in the June '09 issue of The Atlantic: www.theatlantic.com)

The Face and LinkedIn are great tools to keep in touch with people, but they should never supplant the direct touch. So, how about calling a friend and sending a postcard or note?
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  :: 26.2 miles, 26.2 lessons.
After postponing it for five years in a row, I was finally able to run the New York City marathon. Even though I've already done a few marathons before, there were plenty of lessons learned that I want to share with runners and non-runners alike. Yes, it is a long one, but so is a marathon. (For the few of you that always ask how long a marathon is, they are all the same: 26.2 miles/42.2 kilometers.)

Sleep. You've got get some rest. General Gao may have put it best when he said: 'Rest is a weapon'. Without taking one single step, I was already tired from lack of proper sleep the week before the race. (Yes, going out 'till 4 AM a couple of nights before was also not very smart).

Always have a plan B -and C. The night before the race we were switching back to Daylight Savings and I was worried about oversleeping (just like in that episode of Seinfeld). So I had two clocks set up to wake me up. Still, I kept waking up in fear throughout the night. For various technical reasons, neither one my alarms woke me up at 4 AM and had to rely on the good 'ol mental alarm.

Perspective. It was 45 degrees upon arriving in Staten Island. You could barely find a comfortable place to lay down and you start wondering why the hell you're doing this. But then I had to think of the homeless folks who suffer not just a few hours, but entire days and nights in cold, unsafe and unhealthy environments. You think I complained after that?

You never know who you're going to meet. Part One. Waiting in the cold at Fort Wadsworth in Staten Island, I met two nurses from San Diego. The three of us sort of huddled together to keep warm, and talking distracted us during the three hour wait. We shared our running history, preparation and the things that keep us going during the tough times. More on this around mile 18.

Don't try anything new. At the expo I had found these nifty 'Nip-Guards' to replace putting band aids on my nipples. Wow! What a great idea! And for only $10! In the cold staging area I put these on and was quickly impressed by how much they didn't work! Here I was scrambling with a few minutes before the start looking for band aids…and sunscreen…and Vaseline… Mile 1. Visualize the end. No better way to start something than to imagine oneself finishing it. I could see myself wearing the medal with a big smile on my face.

'Your name is the most important word in the English language'. Harvey Mackay once taught me that, and that's why I always write in on the front of my t-shirt. Hundreds must have yelled it along the five boroughs.

Mile 4. You never know who you're going to meet. Part Deux. I passed a woman who had a '4:00 Hours Pace Team' on the back of her t-shirt. This meant that either she was going slower than expected or I was going way too fast. We confirmed that she was more in line with my 4:15 time and continued running together. Around mile 8 an Italian runner asked if we were still on track and joined us. This soon became 'Team Fernando' after I told them to pretend that when people were cheering for me, they were really cheering for the three of us.

What we say to ourselves is very important. Part One. 'Yes We Can!' I may have appropriated this slogan from a little known senator and put it on the back of my t-shirt. It was as much political commentary as encouragement for the other runners.

Mile 8. You've got to control the ups and downs. With such overwhelming crowd support, it is easy to get carried away with excitement during the stretches around Brooklyn, miles 4-8, or the great welcome to Manhattan, miles 16-19. Just as hard is to control the down times when the body just wants to give up, miles 18-26.

Mile 10. It's a mental game. You've got to keep saying positive things. 'Looking good, Feeling good'

Mile 11. It's also a numbers game. You're constantly thinking of the pace. Your PR. The miles run and the miles to go. How many times you've seen that girl with the pink skirt? If you can't bring your abacus, be prepared to run some numbers in your head! Mile 13.1. 2:07 and in the words of that band from New Jersey: 'We're half way there, Livin' on a prayer'!

Mile 15. Training. How you train determines how you'll do. Fact! During my training long run of 20 miles, I had my first breakdown around 15.5 miles. Como se dice: 'that's exactly where the Queensboro Bridge is?' I had to take a break from running and decided not to sprint to catch the rest of 'Team Fernando' on that brutal uphill three quarters of a mile welcome into Manhattan.

Mile 17. Have a support group. We surround ourselves with people for a reason. It is vital to have a support group to encourage you along the way, pat you in the back when you need it, slap you hard when you need it more.

Pictures. Nothing captures better the before, during and after of a race than your own pictures. Another reason to love disposables!

Mile 18. You've got to adapt to new realities. Knowing that I wouldn't beat any Kenyans -or my own PR- I decided to take it easy and do what one of the nurses recommended earlier in the morning: run seven minutes, walk four minutes. I did that for the next 6 miles.

Who cares about you? Running a marathon, or completing any challenging task, gives you a good sense of who cares about you and what's important to you. Who sends you messages of encouragement? Who waits for you in the crowd? Who congratulates you? Who celebrates with you? Who is proud of you? You know who you are and I thank you for your support and encouragement.

Mile 19. Acceptance. I'm no longer 26-year old runner that was doing a marathon per year. Have to accept that my body and stamina have changed a bit.

Enjoy the moment. You always hear about the journey and not the destination, but there does come a moment when you realize it's a beautiful day to be walking around Harlem!

Mile 20. Why? This is the key question to running -and to life. Why are we doing it? Having a good answer makes running -and living- more bearable, to paraphrase my boy Nietzsche, 'He who has a why for running can bear with almost any wall.' I kept thinking of all those who for various reasons cannot run, especially my mom.

Mile 21. You have to respect the distance. It is not a 5K, 10K or half-marathon. It is a full length marathon.

Mile 22. What we say to ourselves is very important. Part Deux 'The Glory lasts longer than the Pain'

Mile 23. Rewards. We have them for a reason. Bacon cheese burger: get in my belly!

Mile 24. What next? You know by now that you're going to finish -even if you walk it the rest of the way. You also start thinking about your running in the future. The first thing that pops to mind is that you'll never run one of these again! But as all runners know, by that same night you're already thinking what the next one will be. Seven continents: here I come!

Mile 25. 'Yes I can!' .2 to go: Smile! Don't cover your face, don't look at your watch. Smile, because those cameras are not x-rays and they can't see how much you're hurting. You'll look like the hero/heroine that you are!

Fernando
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  :: 'The Facebook'-
Not a week goes by when someone does not ask me: ‘Why aren’t you on Facebook? You, out of all people…’ Yes, for quite a while I’ve been fighting this one. I know all the Kool Kidz are in it. I know what great tool it is to keep in touch with people you know and even those whom you just met the night before. I know it is a great way to track old flames. I know what a thrill it is to hear from someone you have not heard from in a long time. Yes, I can see how funny it is to put a ‘quirky’ picture on your profile. I know it can be fun to troll thru the friends of others and see who is hot (like most of Maria’s friends!). I also understand it is a way to protect one’s identity and reputation (Cesar) I know it’s a good way to communicate big news to a lot of people, like getting engaged (congrats Teeny and Dos). Yes, it is also a great device to share pictures with others (thank you Nissay and Eddie). Still, like a Republican in San Francisco, I’m not entirely comfortable in this area.

Yes, I was also apprehensive about the Palm Pilot (thank you for constantly reminding me of this Brian and Catalina). But as you know, I still cling to old fashioned ideas like disposable cameras, and yes, I still buy CDs (to your dismay Casey) To the former, I say there are few things as exciting as going to the local Walgreens after waiting 24 hours for the film to be processed and see which one of the 27 exposures actually made it (plus, I get to mail a copy to someone I care about while never having to worry about losing a fancy-pants digital camera). To the latter, I say it is still exciting to see which songs are going to be good in the entire album, not the single you can buy on iTunes -another passing fad of the interweb. Plus, half the excitement comes from winning the battle with the security wrap! I’m a late adaptor, but once I get into something I get into it full force and perhaps that is what I’m most afraid of, how much I’m going to get into it.

Many of you have acknowledged the issues with ‘The Facebook’: ‘It is the biggest time dump.’ This is usually followed by ‘At first you’re all into it, and then you get used to it and just check it once in a while’ and by ‘once in a while’, they mean once every few hours. Also, there is the underlying factor of the number of ‘friends’ one has even if we don’t actually want to have a lot of them or some of them are frenemies! (M) To paraphrase an American King: “I dream of a day that my kids will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the number of their friends on Facebook”

Part of my apprehension could also be the definition of what a ‘Friend’ is all about. This used to be who would bail me at three in the morning, until I realized that most people would come to your rescue at this time even if you haven’t spoken to them in a while. Try it. Perhaps I would be more comfortable if you had the option to select ‘Friend’, ‘Close acquaintance’, ‘Co-worker’, ‘Complete stranger’, ‘She’s dead to me’ or ‘Never liked him’.

Don’t even get me started on the ‘status’ part. Who gives a $#i+! that your skinny vanilla venti latte did not have enough foam this morning?!! Or ‘Hey! Look at me! I’ve just washed my Segway!’ Seriously, with all the issues facing us, why don’t we see: ‘Sorry, I can’t view who just uploaded some pictures from their partying last night because I’m trying to find a way to help out the homeless in my city’?

It was General Gao, or someone other brilliant warrior who said ‘If you can’t beat them, join them’. Maybe there is a way to create a Facebook Group for those who don’t want to be on The Facebook. In the meantime, I will get out of my comfort zone, try something I haven’t done before, and sign up. Please don’t get offended if we don’t become immediate BFFs. If you’re my friend you should know it by now. If not, you’re with the terrorists and we’ve got some work to do!
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  :: Salaam Aleykum Friends-
There's an old joke from McCain's 2000 campaign that said he wasn't milking enough his POW experience,
so when asked anything he should answer the following way: "Senator, what do you think of our education system?" McCain: "We'll, as I was drinking my own pee for five years, I had a lot of time to reflect on that issue…"

So, how was Tunisia? As I was laying completely flat on my First Class Suite I had a lot of time to reflect on this…(I intend to milk this one for a while). First I learned that Tunisia means 'everything runs late here' in Arabic. Planes, trains, church services, concerts…at first this is annoying, especially coming from our American time conscious way, but then one makes the '15 minute adjustment' and everything is OK.

Spending Easter in a Muslim country is not easy. I had been lucky to find a Good Friday service in Tunis, but in the small town of Bizerte it was another thing. When I asked for the one church they had in town, people looked at me like I was talking to them in Esperanto. Easter Sunday I did 18,342 steps, half of these looking around the area where people suspect this church existed. No luck, but fortunately my sweet baby Jesus resurrected without my direct intervention.

Tunisia is a fascinating blend of cultures, languages and traditions. Just Bizerte, a small beach town in the north, was conquered by: Phoenicians, Carthaginians, Romans, Vandals, Byzantines, Aghlabids, Spanish, Ottomans, French, Nazis, back to the French and finally in '63 the freedom loving people of the new Republic of Tunisia. All of them have left their mark. And lets not forget the pirates of the Barbary Coast -yes, yet another reason I decided to visit this area.

The main language is Arabic, but almost everyone speaks French. In most places they guessed I was Italian so that's what we spoke. In my mind I had some Hebrew words, Spanish words of Arabic origin, French mots and then someone would want to practice their English and I would trade with some Arabic. All of these would seem to come out of my mouth at the same time. I felt like a walking Babel and there is something to be said about Esperanto after all.

The Medina of Tunis had been highly recommended, it is a UNESCO World Heritage Site after all. But, I think that once you see a souk, you've seem them all. The regular markets and the malls are more interesting and give you a better sense of how people are and what they want. During a visit of the main mosque, one of the 'guides' starts telling me that there aren't too many tourists today because of the festival. What festival? The perfume festival! He wanted to show me this and a special panorama view of the old city. Of course. Fortunately I had read Paul Theraux's similar experience -described in 'The Pillars of Hercules'- where he got hussled into a special 'Berber carpet promotion' and they tried to get some money out of him. So even global explorers can get conned. I respectfully declined such a kind invitation and wandered about the medina. And by wander, I mean get lost. The lesson in all this: Sometimes you have to get lost to find yourself.

Highlights:

*Getting to the northernmost point of Africa by Cap Blanc.

*Attending the opening night of the Festival Méditerrannéen de la Guitare (loosely translates to 'We're not Spinal Tap') and have written a non-blog blog entry on this one.

*Taking five trains in one day to explore old Carthage and visit Sidi Bou Said (the Santorini of Tunisia) and La Marsa (a happening beach town). Having done another 18K steps, coming back to my hotel in a train and seeing a spectacular sunset overlooking the Mediterranean.
B Overall: Marhaba al-wedke said! (Hellogoodtimes!)
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  :: Festival Méditerrannéen de la Guitare
On a recent visit to Tunis, we were lucky to attend the opening night of Festival Méditerrannéen de la Guitare (loosely translates to 'We're not Spinal Tap') The venue was the National Theatre right on Ave. Habib Bourguiba, the city's Champs-Elysées, a beautifully maintained Art Nuveau building from 1902.

The first performer was Anas Abid, billed as 'guitare hero-Rock'. He really was a Guitar Hero. He rocked it pretty well and did the whole 'guitare hero' thing perfectly for his young age -he's approx 19. His 'I miss you' was really good. He did such a good job that at the end the crowd asked him to play something again, this time live, because they did not believe that he was that good! He then plugged hard his MySpace page.

Next was ZED. Five university aged kids, all coincidentally attired with shirts that spelled 'ZED'. Rola, female singer and only woman in the band, introduced all the songs in French, but then proceeded to sing them in English. So here she was, singing reggae and other styles in English with a French accent. They may have gone for two songs too long for the crowd, but they were still enjoyable.

The final group was Samarabalouf from Paris. To explain their name requires a PhD in escargot and all things French. They were billed as 'jazz manouche'. Don't worry; we didn't know what it was either. Imagine bluegrass spiked with Maghreb magic and French flair. These two guitarists and bassist were awesome and used a bit of gypsy, rumba, jazz and other things to keep the crowd clapping.

At first I thought this was one of the most random concerts ever. But all the pieces actually worked well together. Perhaps it was not a coincidence that just a few miles away was the Bardo Museum, the world's largest collection of Roman mosaics. Much like those small pieces, where individually they don't amount to much, but put together they actually create something extraordinary, so did these three performances. They brought different cultures, languages, traditions and ages together in an effortless way. This, in a nutshell is also modern Tunisia.
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  :: MDW '07
Hello Good Friends-

On my quest to visit all 50 states of our Great Union, I decided to visit three of the remaining five and check out Mt. Rushmore while doing so. I was half expecting it to be closed like Walley World, so I was extra happy to finally see it. It really is a special place worth the pilgrimage as it speaks not only about our great leaders, but also to the ingenuity, perseverance and drive of the average person who dreams great things and makes it happen while overcoming many obstacles.

It also speaks about our Western expansion to these awesome lands. (No wonder the American Indians fought hard to keep them, but that is a different story). There is something about looking at vast endless vistas at sea, in the air or land that always lead me to introspection, or ?deeperspection?. Driving through the geographical center of the US, I wondered about what Salman Rushdie called the ?lottery of life? and what would have happened had I been born in Newell, SD? (?The Nation?s Sheep Capital?) Would you be reading this? Would the only sounds on my radio be Christian and country music with its superfecta of God, Country, booze and women?

There is an elegant simplicity in the naming of some of the places I drove by: Horse Thief Ln., Crazy Woman Creek, Radio Tower Rd., Bad Route Rd. However, some names were a little off: The ?grasslands? of western North Dakota looked more like rocky-ridge lands. The ?badlands? of South Main Street in Deadwood, SD looked more like where all the hellogoodtimes really happened. (Incidentally, the town is named after the HBO show). The only thing crazy at the Crazy Horse Memorial is the crazy-talk that they are going to ever complete the world?s largest sculpture!

Not all was fun, new facts and fast food: I killed a rabbit. Not with a varmint gun á la Mitt Romney, but with a Subaru Outback at 85 miles per hour. In my defense, I did try to avoid the poor little fella, but learned that swift swerving at high speeds is not advisable ?even for a graduate of the Ronin School of Driving. There could have been two road-kills that day.

Being Memorial Day Weekend, I thought about our troops and all those who have made the ultimate sacrifice, be it Custer and his 200 men at Little Big Horn or the 100 troops that lost their lives in Iraq last month. Not sure about you, but I felt that I had not done enough to deserve a day off compared to what these men and women have done for us. If you did not visit a cemetery or see a parade today, you can still do something. I encourage you to visit one of these sites:

www.yellowribbonfund.com

www.fisherhouse.org

www.dav.org
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  :: The Focus Group
So. A few months ago, a friend drags me to a City College class on making a living by doing random things, "Get paid bowling!" was the synopsis and I was hooked. We meet an old man who told us stories for two straight hours on how he's managed to make a decent income doing random things like mystery flyer (no wonder Pan Am and Eastern went out of business), movie extra, substitute teacher, you name it, he's done it. At the end of the class he hands out a list of focus group agencies that hire people who've attended his class. Eagerly, I wait to recoup the cost of the class.

Months go by, and as expected, a surprise call from a focus group regarding a new mobile device. A woman says that before she can schedule me for the session (earning $150 for my valuable time) she has a few questions to ask: "Do I have a digital camera?" No. "Do I have a camera on my phone?" No. "Do I own a Tivo?" No. "A DVR?" No…A very uncomfortable feeling starts to creep in and the tone of her voice is not too helpful… In my mind I hear her say: "Do you own a color TV?"...she's probably thinking she's misdialed the idiot of an Amish village. After a few long seconds, she says: "I'm afraid you don't qualify for this focus group". She might as well have told me I had hepatitis B. Wait, that's a different story...

Flash forward to this week when I'm notified that they could use me for a focus group on "never-before seen TV". 65 bucks. "Do you have eyes?" I qualify. Niiiiiice.

I walk in this office and there about 50 people waiting in chairs. It has that vague feeling of a jury duty pool room/DMV wait area. You could not get a more random sampling of human beings. The bar at 'Star Wars' pales in comparison to the characters waiting. Bridgesetters, professional focus group goers, students, families, maybe a homeless person or two. What the hell am I doing here?!

They take about 30 us per room where we sit on chairs, given a clipboard and hand a device called the "Perception Analyzer". Picture an old Atari joystick with a dial and a number that goes from zero to 100. We're supposed to start at 50 -neutral- and go up and down based on what we like. We're told we're here to give our thoughts on a new series on development called "Mr. and Mrs. Smith".

Didn't they already make a movie with this title? Wasn't it awesome and do they really need to make a series out of it? The show starts…within three minutes I am bored. Dial down at 25. Suspend disbelief for a moment and think what would happen if Sidney from 'Alias' got married and you get the premise of the show. Mrs. Smith is a spicy little morsel and the show's saving grace. Dial at 70.

Mr. Smith, an unemployed spy, is forced to play cards with the other housewives from the neighbourhood. Dial at 20. Mrs. Smith inexplicably has to go to Prague to deactivate a nuclear device. Mr. Smith suspects she might be having an affair and follows her there- by looking at her airline paper ticket! Who uses paper tickets anymore! Dial at 15. "Somewhere in Prague" looks more like "Somewhere off Melrose Ave.". Dial at 10. I'm starting to think I should pay them the $65 to let me leave now.

Forgot to mention that there is a mirror behind the two TV screens so I can see the reactions from the rest of the crowd. Everyone seems to be just as bored as I am. Then of course I think we're getting Punked!. Who would come up with such a stupid idea? Mercifully the pilot episode is over. They ask us another ten questions. "1 to 10 -10 being the highest- how did you like the show?" A kid behind me whispers: "Can it get lower than 1?"…every question elicited such remarks and laughs. "Would you make time to watch this show?" I tell the girl next to me that now I really wished I had a Tivo! The people behind the mirror were probably not as amused.

I hope they take our comments seriously and not air this show. Otherwise you've been warned and my 'Sunny Day Fund' has an extra $65!

F
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  :: Not Leaving Las Vegas
Twice in one week, the Gods of Travel force me to change my plans. This time, weather and Air Traffic Control did it.

I've been stuck in Las Vegas since last night on my way to Boston. But I'm fortunate, for some, the earliest they could get home was Christmas Day...three days later! It was like the last helicopter out of Saigon at most airports.

Some of you that got my message from Italy should also find it amussing that I had commented on my lack of Vegas visit in some time Yes, ironic.

And by lucky, I mean I'm now catching a red-eye on a middle seat at the back of the bus.

Neverless, I made the most out of the stay. Saw "Bodies...The Exhibit". Two words: Fascinating. Contrary to what I thought, they are not Chinese prisoners. It takes anywhere from three weeks to a year and a half to 'polymerize' these bodies. Fact! However, I still get the feeling that these roving exhibits are like the 'Gypsy Kings' where any given night around the world you can find them playing -in more than one city!

I also 'accidentally' ended up at 'Blondies' -a bar at The Aladdin. Had to confront three of my four weaknesses (blonds, booze, boobs). Felt like Superman around Kryptonite...ve-ry...weak...can't...con-ti-nue...ty-ping...

I wish you better travels,

Fernando
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  :: A Night at the Opera
So. Here I am in Buenos Aires. I've been told that a show at the Colon Theatre is a must, so I bought an expensive tix to 'Boris Godunov'.

Fin del Prologo

The seat is closer to the Space Station than to the stage -a sherpa, not an usher, should have shown me to my seat. This seat is designed for half a hobbit. There is a brass rail conveniently blocking most the miniscule stage.

Fin Primera Parte

As the opera starts, I hope thingd don't get worse...but they start yelling in Russian! A small screen above the stage translates in Spanish. Repressed memories of 'War and Peace' come to mind.

Fin Segunda Parte

Forgot to mention that it is unusually hot in BA. I don't want to explain the laws of natural physics right now, but heat does rise, and I feel like I'm in one of the realms of Dante's Inferno.

There's something about a runaway monk -couldn't really figure it out who, since the translating billboard is about two sentences behind- but the arrival of the commisars (commie-tsars?) to the tavern hinted that someone is in trouble. I'm the one that is in trouble!!!

One of the old ladies next to me whispers that there are only three hours left...(I am not making one single bit of this story up)...The fat lady sung...the curtain closed...the lights went up and the first of four 20 minute intermissions started. Pushkin smushkin. I am out of here!

I descended to altitudes where supplemental oxigen are not needed, and took one of the deepest breaths of fresh air on the street. (Picture one of the freedivers from the 'Big Blue' resurfacing after breaking World record).

Merciful end of Part Three.

WWARD? What Would a Russian Do? Drink. So, here I am, a block away from the 'World's widest avenue' (it does take you two light changes to cross it), drowning/trying to forget on delicious Malbec.

It is very hard to be alone in this town -especially in a restaurant full of people- so I decided to type this on my BBerry while my steak (como se dice cholesterol watch 2006?) arrives.

From Mi Buenos Aires querido,

Fernando
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  :: Hello from Rome
Hello Good Friends-

Ciao from Roma! Once again, I find myself dining in a foreign place with my usual date: my Blackberry. She's actually not that bad: doesn't mind having my paws all over her, is always ready to go and likes being very close to my "woo-woo" if you know how I clip her.

In my biography, these last few months should be called: 'Around the world with my special friend'...she's a constant companion, source of endless information and lifeline to my world.

Who needs real people when you've got such a great thing in front of you? This guy!!!

I'm not complaining. I've had some great business meetings (ABC, Always Be Closing, for those of you who don't think you're in sales). Airfare to Europe in 'the back of the bus' U$980. Dinner overlooking Campo di Fiori U$75. Seeing Mt. Etna covered in snow and spewing ash at the same time: priceless.

I've also done some galavanting, and stumbled upon "The National Museum of Pasta"...again, I'm not making any of this up. Who knew that semolina played such an integral role in our spaghetti, or that fussili could be shaped into so many forms?!

Since I haven't been to Vegas in a while, I wanted to go to Venice for the weekend. Surprisingly, Alitalia is going to strike tomorrow -yes, a strike in Italy, shocking! So, I've decided to make the most of it and uncover some Rome mysteries: how can all these hot chicks walk with high heels on cobble-stones?; what did Dan Brow get wrong in 'Angels and Demons'; how can these Italians not gain any weight? Just this week, with my 'Tripple P Diet' (Pasta, Panini and Peroni) I've gained like 10lbs...or 2000 kilograms (still trying to figure out the conversions)

Hope you're well, and for those that believe in my sweet baby Jesus: Buon Natale.

Fernando
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  :: Book review of "War and Peace"
Normally we devote this space to recommend books we've liked. However, this month we'll highlight a book that only 0.002 of the population has read: Tolstoy's War and Peace. Someone at Hellogoodtimes may have lost a bet ("Loooser has to read War and Peace and write a book report if they can't find 10 people they know who have read it"). Kindly see below:
There's a reason why people have not read War and Peace. It is 1600 pages long (Modern Library Edition) and it could have been condensed by some 1000 pages! Actually, there is more than one reason people have not read this book. Como se dice: boring? It is Melrose Place on the frozen tundra of Russia. It has as many love triangles without the sexiness - or the sex for that matter. Trying to keep track of all those counts, villages, treaties broken and official edicts can be a full time job.

Although Tolstoy is known for his brilliant storytelling and impeccable attention to detail, it seems like the men are only good to enlist in the next war and the women simple pretty things to come back from war for. With the exception of its main characters, the inquisitive Pierre Bezuhov and the beautiful and charming Elena Vassilyevna.

The book does give you a good sense of the hardships endured by the Russians during their fights with Napoleon and his expanding Empire. There are some excellent chapters analyzing the crucial battles of these wars probably better suited for a magazine like: 'Napoleonic Battles Revisited'. Some of the maxims about war, such as "before a battle one needs to get a good sleep" are best left for General Gao.

The recurring question of the book could be: 'Do leaders make history or does history make leaders?' and Tolstoy devotes a good time on this and how history will always be revisited. With new information and the passing of time any historical perspective can change, and this in turn will make us change our original thoughts of the actual events. Distance does add enchantment to the view, especially when one's views are on the victorious side. Not too many German books on D-Day.

Ultimately, he's on the side that even with great men, there are greater forces that shape our history "Every action of theirs, that seems to them an act of their own free-will, is in an historical sense not free at all, but in bondage to the whole course of previous history, and predestined from all eternity."

The book is also a reminder for our times about the fragility of Peace. Weren't we in Iraq ten years ago? Will we be there in another ten? For another ten? Sadly, it does not give us hope for a world without war. Sadly, we're reminded of the preamble to the UN Charter signed in San Francisco exactly 60 years ago:

"WE THE PEOPLES OF THE UNITED NATIONS DETERMINED
to save succeeding generations from the scourge of war, which twice in our lifetime has brought untold sorrow to mankind…" and despite all the great work this organization has done, it did not prevent the numerous wars we've experienced since. We have been going at war since we lived in caves. Now we have simply found ways to send guided missiles into those caves.

Tolstoy also goes at length describing Freemasonry in the early 1800s, as part of Bezuhov's ongoing quest for meaning. He describes at length rituals and beliefs, ultimately having Bezuhov thinking: "In his captivity he had come to see that God was grander, more infinite, and more unfathomable than the Architect of the Universe recognized by the masons"

To the timeless questions on war, love and peace there's this gem:
The Frenchman is conceited from supposing himself mentally and physically to be inordinately fascinating both to men and to women. An Englishman is conceited on the ground of being a citizen of the best-constituted state in the world, and also because he as an Englishman always knows what is the correct thing to do, and knows that everything that he, as an Englishman, does do is indisputably the correct thing. An Italian is conceited from being conceited precisely because he knows nothing and cares to know nothing, since he does not believe it possible to know anything fully. A conceited German is the worst of them all, and the most hardened of all, and the most repulsive of all; for he imagines that he possesses the truth in a science of his own invention, which is to him absolute truth.
Finally, it is a guess that only a Russian can truly appreciate this book, much like the special appreciation a Colombian has while reading 'One Hundred Years of Solitude'. Appreciate it for the proud history of Russia and to fuel the melancholic spirit of the Russians. How could one not be sad at thinking that for as much as some things change, many don't. Didn't the Soviet Union lose 12 million of its citizens during the last World War? Again, the reminder that we'll always have the cycles of peace and war.

The only other thing that is also constant is Love. Love in all its forms. Love of country. Love of brother. Love of family. Love in its painful ways. Love unrequited. Love of stranger - on a battlefield - on the street.
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We'd like to include a list of blogs from some of our Global Explorers™ and others we like:

Paula Goldman's blog from her thoughts and life in London:
manywaysforward.blogspot.com

An incredible journey around the world on motorcycle, from Clara Lora-McCrea:
motomoments.blogspot.com

Cesar Amin's thoughts on Colombia and other things:
cesaramin.blogspot.com




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