20 minutes of riding takes me to work everyday. Do I get sweaty and look disgusting for my PR job? Do I see any strange animals?
Early in the morning it's cold enough that I barely break a sweat - and luckily, for halfway it's downhill. Arriving at work I'm buzzing on adrenaline, not caffeine. The route is by the beach in Santa Barbara with the sailboats visible in the anchorage offshore. I look out with nostalgia.
The icing on the cake is the lake we ride by, full of ducks and lillies backdropped by the Santa Ynez Mountains. On the other side of the lake is the zoo, which I didn't actually realize was there. Then one day I saw a giraffe through the foliage. Wait, was that really a giraffe?? I keep my eye out now, and sure enough, there's three of them. I should go visit them, since I say "good morning" to them everyday.
Not having a car brings some unforeseen benefits.
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Thursday, January 18, 2007
Floripa New Year´s Eve
The champagne would soon flow into eager flutes and unsteady hands. The crowd was streaming in, like a funnel pouring people down the steps onto the sand, in anticipation of the fireworks and celebration. The beach was buzzing with people, suffocating, intoxicating with joy and delirium. DJ Leo and his family - complete with grandma, baby, cousin who's studying to be a priest, and stepmom - were gathered when I announced, "OK, champagne everyone, we've got 5 minutes until the- " KABOOM!!! A fireball erupted right next to us and terror took over the revelry; people began trampling one another to move away from the flaming colors, which from far away would be just another pleasant fireworks display.
The mob mentality, like bewildered animals, is a greater danger than the fireworks, I figured; if I caught fire the ocean water was 50 feet away. I just kept my eyes covered low, and my back to the flames, noticing the red and green eruption had not ceased in 45 seconds, which was only 10 yards away in the sand. The fun was over - it was time to rejoin with my hosts and make sure everyone was OK. Back at the street, lightning up the mood after our brief scare, we began pouring champagne freely, to strangers, passerbys, and whoever else had a glass or paper cup. The exuberance in the air was uncontrollable; I had the feel that even if people were injured and bleeding they'd still be laughing.
A moment of numerological coincidence back at the car; the time/date digital display read 01/01/07 00:17. This unwittingly brought our merrymaking to a heightened frenzy, and as I the driver kept the vehicle at a steady pace, DJ Leo the champagne server offered the bubbly satisfaction to whoever dared - including a moving motorcyclist, who somehow produced a glass made out of glass and held it out as DJ Leo poured and I drove. No one was hurt.
DJ Leo's father is a true Gaucho - a southern brazilian with a reputation for churrascos, yerba mate, and rough manners - so he had no problem starting the barbeque at 1AM. Within an hour the fillets, lamb, and chicken heart, heavily seasoned in salt, were being scarfed down. Around 3AM I took a night on the hammock. Luckily the mosquitoes were biting my feet so I woke up, so we jumped into the stepmom's Citroen and sped off towards Praia Mole.
Besides the lightweight carnage with the fireworks, we were witness to various displays of violence during those early hours of 2007: a fist fight at the gas station with girls crying on the ground; a drunk was run over by a bus; a guy ran off with our $30; a gang on the beach chased off an irritating fellow by hurling stones; then broke a glass bottle over a guy's head (which broke the lifeguard's attention - it was 9AM by that stage). Chaos and disorder not withstanding, I contemplated the new year with a dip in the ocean, then found a lovely bonfire with other folks keen to watch the 1st day of the year unfold.
Rainshowers kept us huddled at times under towels or beach umbrellas; then sunlight was burst through the clouds and light the green hills and our awed faces. Beer continued to be consumed by the rowdier types, while I made an attempt at a healthful breakfast by ordering an açaí smoothie with granola. By noon we were properly fatigued. Without resolutions, we welcomed the new year devoid of any particular hopes or fears or projections - living in the fullest despite the violence, magnifying the joy, meshing together and carrying on as one hopes to live during the ups and downs of life.
The mob mentality, like bewildered animals, is a greater danger than the fireworks, I figured; if I caught fire the ocean water was 50 feet away. I just kept my eyes covered low, and my back to the flames, noticing the red and green eruption had not ceased in 45 seconds, which was only 10 yards away in the sand. The fun was over - it was time to rejoin with my hosts and make sure everyone was OK. Back at the street, lightning up the mood after our brief scare, we began pouring champagne freely, to strangers, passerbys, and whoever else had a glass or paper cup. The exuberance in the air was uncontrollable; I had the feel that even if people were injured and bleeding they'd still be laughing.
A moment of numerological coincidence back at the car; the time/date digital display read 01/01/07 00:17. This unwittingly brought our merrymaking to a heightened frenzy, and as I the driver kept the vehicle at a steady pace, DJ Leo the champagne server offered the bubbly satisfaction to whoever dared - including a moving motorcyclist, who somehow produced a glass made out of glass and held it out as DJ Leo poured and I drove. No one was hurt.
DJ Leo's father is a true Gaucho - a southern brazilian with a reputation for churrascos, yerba mate, and rough manners - so he had no problem starting the barbeque at 1AM. Within an hour the fillets, lamb, and chicken heart, heavily seasoned in salt, were being scarfed down. Around 3AM I took a night on the hammock. Luckily the mosquitoes were biting my feet so I woke up, so we jumped into the stepmom's Citroen and sped off towards Praia Mole.
Besides the lightweight carnage with the fireworks, we were witness to various displays of violence during those early hours of 2007: a fist fight at the gas station with girls crying on the ground; a drunk was run over by a bus; a guy ran off with our $30; a gang on the beach chased off an irritating fellow by hurling stones; then broke a glass bottle over a guy's head (which broke the lifeguard's attention - it was 9AM by that stage). Chaos and disorder not withstanding, I contemplated the new year with a dip in the ocean, then found a lovely bonfire with other folks keen to watch the 1st day of the year unfold.
Rainshowers kept us huddled at times under towels or beach umbrellas; then sunlight was burst through the clouds and light the green hills and our awed faces. Beer continued to be consumed by the rowdier types, while I made an attempt at a healthful breakfast by ordering an açaí smoothie with granola. By noon we were properly fatigued. Without resolutions, we welcomed the new year devoid of any particular hopes or fears or projections - living in the fullest despite the violence, magnifying the joy, meshing together and carrying on as one hopes to live during the ups and downs of life.
Floripa New Year´s Eve part 2
"This is IT! This is paradise!! Electronic music on the beach, waves and caipirinhas!" DJ Leo has a contagious enthusiasm, although it fizzles as we approach the bar with loud music. Indeed, there are good tunes with a crowd on the sand; indeed, the surf is firing right in front. But on closer inspection, we realize there is a large population of clean cut, military style Europeans with massive biceps, clad in small Speedos..... hugging one another. Even our gay friends later mention that the left side of Praia Mole is "a little too much". We relocate to the center of the beach where the demographic has increased bikini lines, and much more pleasing to the naked eye.
Praia Mole, the nucleus of Florianópolis' beach scene, in southern Brazil, the setting for our 2007 New Year's Eve. Jam-packed with good looking people... famous even in Brazil for incredible quantities of beautiful women.... to the point that the traffic literally comes to a standstill. A hellish effort was at times required to cross the narrow roadways due to the island's unique geography: forty miles long, connected to the mainland with a Golden Gate look-alike bridge, intersected by a mountain range with lakes and extensive sand dunes keeping things REAL tight. Gorgeous to look at from far away - an unforgettable view from the top of the mountain pass.
The traffic hassles were a factor but quickly overlooked since days were spent in a daze, recuperating for the timely midnight opening time for clubs scattered everywhere. No place for Cinderellas here - 12am to 7am is prime time. Mind you I came under the impression we were on a family trip, to relax at the beach, etc. But DJ Leo is a vicious beast when alcohol and music combine, and even traffic jams became another excuse for blasting electronic tunes and guzzling Skol brewskis - contrary to our U.S. education, that is a perfectly legitimate complement to driving in this country. In fact, slight inebriation is almost a necessity, to negociate the potholes, wacko drivers, and just flowwww.....
Praia Mole, the nucleus of Florianópolis' beach scene, in southern Brazil, the setting for our 2007 New Year's Eve. Jam-packed with good looking people... famous even in Brazil for incredible quantities of beautiful women.... to the point that the traffic literally comes to a standstill. A hellish effort was at times required to cross the narrow roadways due to the island's unique geography: forty miles long, connected to the mainland with a Golden Gate look-alike bridge, intersected by a mountain range with lakes and extensive sand dunes keeping things REAL tight. Gorgeous to look at from far away - an unforgettable view from the top of the mountain pass.
The traffic hassles were a factor but quickly overlooked since days were spent in a daze, recuperating for the timely midnight opening time for clubs scattered everywhere. No place for Cinderellas here - 12am to 7am is prime time. Mind you I came under the impression we were on a family trip, to relax at the beach, etc. But DJ Leo is a vicious beast when alcohol and music combine, and even traffic jams became another excuse for blasting electronic tunes and guzzling Skol brewskis - contrary to our U.S. education, that is a perfectly legitimate complement to driving in this country. In fact, slight inebriation is almost a necessity, to negociate the potholes, wacko drivers, and just flowwww.....
Sunday, December 17, 2006
Saturday, December 16, 2006
Friday, December 15, 2006
The Grenades from Ipanema
Rio looks deceptively clean and safe on first impression. Trash isn't piled on the curbs; streetkids aren't flocking on every streetcorner; even the traffic is relatively tame. Wait.... it's a holiday, so everybody is home. And there's more: the evening news announced that alongside the girls in bikinis, there were grenades in Ipanema today.
The villains from a nearby favela clashed with police forces in broad daylight next to a popular supermarket, the Zona Sul. No one was hurt. But machine guns and grenades can't be pleasing to the ear during lunchtime. The monster of poverty and crime gets swept under the rug and shows it's ugly head when least expected.
My brother and I continue our nostalgic tour of Rio. In a little rental car, we maneuver past the distant suburbs of Barra and Recreio, where we used to live 10 years ago. The endless sandy beach is backdropped by skyscrapers; then the lagoon takes over, a long waterway that leaves just a thin strip of land next to the shore. Mountains resembling Mickey Mouse and baloons sit placidly in the distance.
We used to drive along this road every day, on the way to school. It used to be quite neglected and beautiful. It is now well maintained and beautiful - with just a token of idiosyncracy. Kiosks line the promenade with stone work; speed moderating bumps keep cars at a safe velocity. Eventually we arrive at the remotest beaches, Prainha and Grumari, our childhood hangouts during weekends. The grenades and machine guns are so far away we decide that Rio isn't so bad, after all.
The villains from a nearby favela clashed with police forces in broad daylight next to a popular supermarket, the Zona Sul. No one was hurt. But machine guns and grenades can't be pleasing to the ear during lunchtime. The monster of poverty and crime gets swept under the rug and shows it's ugly head when least expected.
My brother and I continue our nostalgic tour of Rio. In a little rental car, we maneuver past the distant suburbs of Barra and Recreio, where we used to live 10 years ago. The endless sandy beach is backdropped by skyscrapers; then the lagoon takes over, a long waterway that leaves just a thin strip of land next to the shore. Mountains resembling Mickey Mouse and baloons sit placidly in the distance.
We used to drive along this road every day, on the way to school. It used to be quite neglected and beautiful. It is now well maintained and beautiful - with just a token of idiosyncracy. Kiosks line the promenade with stone work; speed moderating bumps keep cars at a safe velocity. Eventually we arrive at the remotest beaches, Prainha and Grumari, our childhood hangouts during weekends. The grenades and machine guns are so far away we decide that Rio isn't so bad, after all.
Monday, December 04, 2006
Chaos in the Brazilian Airports
SAO PAULO AIRPORTS
Sao Paulo, "Guarulhos" airport, 5:45AM, and my bags haven't arrived in the baggage claim. The Copa Air representative looks at my ticket stubs and leads me to a pair of cute, flowered small bags, announcing, "Aqui estao suas malas." Aha... so I ended up with my 3 year old niece's bags. There is dire need to rendezvous with my sister-in-law and niece, who were boarding a connecting flight to southern Brazil at 8:00AM... in a different airport - "Congonhas". So I race on a 30 minute cab ride, whose driver was better educated about politics and world affairs than most Californians, and arrive just in time for their check-in. Baggage transfer was successful, frenzy in airports as usual; but nothing like we'd witness the next day, on the connecting flight to Rio de Janeiro.
BRAZILIANS LOVE SCANDALS
There's always some sort of crisis in Brazil to incense public imagination and that common reverberation, "See! that's what's wrong with our country." Last time a priest associated with the ruling political party was caught with barrels of dollars in his underwear, as he boarded a flight. A week later another US$200K was found in a politician's briefcase on a private jet. The corruption scandal nearly brought the whole government down.
This time the crisis is in the aviation industry, which is doing a precarious pitchpole after a private American jet collided with and brought down a 150 person Brazilian airliner in the Amazon jungle. There were no survivors from the airliner. The flight traffic controllers immediately went on strike, perhaps in fear of being scapegoated, especially since their safety procedures are tremendously flawed. Media reported on de-classified aviation documents of multiple "near-misses" of large planes in the last few months.
CHAOS IN GUARULHOS
On top of all this, a severe storm hammered all of southern Brazil on the evening we spent at one of Sao Paulo's all-you-can eat sushi houses, for US$10 a person. Outside our raw fish heaven, lightning and gale winds wrought havoc. Dozens of flights were cancelled.
The following morning my brother and I walked into a madhouse at the Guarulhos airport. In an otherwise empty airport, a frantic crowd was gathered at a check-in counter, shouting and chanting in unison, a company representative standing ontop of the counter screaming back at the people. We managed to wiggle towards our gate; the angry mob followed half an hour later. "We've been waiting for thirteen hours!" These were the folks that had flights cancelled in last night's storm.
They got hold of a microphone connected to the PA system and began to proclaim their revolution: "We've waited long enough with no word! We're working people, we've got jobs to go to! We don't want no stinking hotel and lunch now! We want justice! Everyone without a flight, let's go back to the check-in counters and take over, cause we won't stop until... we have revenge!!!" In another airport, angry mobs actually went into the airplane runway and prevented departures. Our flight only delayed 2 hours; we considered ourselves lucky.
RIO FINALLY
Thence my brother and I arrived in Rio de Janeiro, cidade maravilhosa, rented a budget car without A/C or handholds, and headed towards the statue of Christ overlooking my aunt's apartment and the rest of the city.
Sao Paulo, "Guarulhos" airport, 5:45AM, and my bags haven't arrived in the baggage claim. The Copa Air representative looks at my ticket stubs and leads me to a pair of cute, flowered small bags, announcing, "Aqui estao suas malas." Aha... so I ended up with my 3 year old niece's bags. There is dire need to rendezvous with my sister-in-law and niece, who were boarding a connecting flight to southern Brazil at 8:00AM... in a different airport - "Congonhas". So I race on a 30 minute cab ride, whose driver was better educated about politics and world affairs than most Californians, and arrive just in time for their check-in. Baggage transfer was successful, frenzy in airports as usual; but nothing like we'd witness the next day, on the connecting flight to Rio de Janeiro.
BRAZILIANS LOVE SCANDALS
There's always some sort of crisis in Brazil to incense public imagination and that common reverberation, "See! that's what's wrong with our country." Last time a priest associated with the ruling political party was caught with barrels of dollars in his underwear, as he boarded a flight. A week later another US$200K was found in a politician's briefcase on a private jet. The corruption scandal nearly brought the whole government down.
This time the crisis is in the aviation industry, which is doing a precarious pitchpole after a private American jet collided with and brought down a 150 person Brazilian airliner in the Amazon jungle. There were no survivors from the airliner. The flight traffic controllers immediately went on strike, perhaps in fear of being scapegoated, especially since their safety procedures are tremendously flawed. Media reported on de-classified aviation documents of multiple "near-misses" of large planes in the last few months.
CHAOS IN GUARULHOS
On top of all this, a severe storm hammered all of southern Brazil on the evening we spent at one of Sao Paulo's all-you-can eat sushi houses, for US$10 a person. Outside our raw fish heaven, lightning and gale winds wrought havoc. Dozens of flights were cancelled.
The following morning my brother and I walked into a madhouse at the Guarulhos airport. In an otherwise empty airport, a frantic crowd was gathered at a check-in counter, shouting and chanting in unison, a company representative standing ontop of the counter screaming back at the people. We managed to wiggle towards our gate; the angry mob followed half an hour later. "We've been waiting for thirteen hours!" These were the folks that had flights cancelled in last night's storm.
They got hold of a microphone connected to the PA system and began to proclaim their revolution: "We've waited long enough with no word! We're working people, we've got jobs to go to! We don't want no stinking hotel and lunch now! We want justice! Everyone without a flight, let's go back to the check-in counters and take over, cause we won't stop until... we have revenge!!!" In another airport, angry mobs actually went into the airplane runway and prevented departures. Our flight only delayed 2 hours; we considered ourselves lucky.
RIO FINALLY
Thence my brother and I arrived in Rio de Janeiro, cidade maravilhosa, rented a budget car without A/C or handholds, and headed towards the statue of Christ overlooking my aunt's apartment and the rest of the city.
CSM On Energy Efficiency
Recent Christian Science Monitor articles:
Surprise: not so glamorour conservation works best
Greener, cleaner... and competitive?
On the road to green fuels, automakers cover some ground
Can Florida's new marine reserve replenish the Gulf's fish?
In Britain, wind turbines offer homespun electricity
Never mind altruism; 'saving the earth' can mean big bucks
Cooling the Planet at the gas roots
New Combatant against Global Warming: insurance industry
Surprise: not so glamorour conservation works best
Greener, cleaner... and competitive?
On the road to green fuels, automakers cover some ground
Can Florida's new marine reserve replenish the Gulf's fish?
In Britain, wind turbines offer homespun electricity
Never mind altruism; 'saving the earth' can mean big bucks
Cooling the Planet at the gas roots
New Combatant against Global Warming: insurance industry
Overbooked in Panama City
Turns out Copa Airlines is a Panamanian airline which ensures all coach class passengers must be either ardent yoga practicioners or have a Latin spark for human intimacy in order to fit in microscopic seating arrangements. The resulting cramped limbs were a factor in my lack of sleep that night, even though I had my brother's 200 lbs to snuzzle up against.
OVERBOOKING VOLUNTEER
My slight delirium and occasional wafts of humid air in the Panama City airport led me to a questionable decision. As we were about to board our connection to Sao Paulo, the stewardess announced the flight was overbooked and they were giving US$300 for passengers voluntarily waiting until the next flight. In retrospect, I should have just stayed for a week or two in the Intercontinental Hotel suite that Copa sponsored; and live a dirty tourist existence between picturesque la Vieja Ciudad and my lounge; with my daily allowance of $10 per meal I could have done just fine.
I briefly considered being a professional overbooking volunteer, selecting flights that were sure to be full and getting paid cash to sit tight. However there familial obligations awaiting me in Brazil. So I went with my bandwagon of pissed-off "voluntarios", a Colombian, a Guatemalan, and two other Brazilians, and hopped on the next sardine-packed tin flight to the Atlantic seaboard.
OVERBOOKING VOLUNTEER
My slight delirium and occasional wafts of humid air in the Panama City airport led me to a questionable decision. As we were about to board our connection to Sao Paulo, the stewardess announced the flight was overbooked and they were giving US$300 for passengers voluntarily waiting until the next flight. In retrospect, I should have just stayed for a week or two in the Intercontinental Hotel suite that Copa sponsored; and live a dirty tourist existence between picturesque la Vieja Ciudad and my lounge; with my daily allowance of $10 per meal I could have done just fine.
I briefly considered being a professional overbooking volunteer, selecting flights that were sure to be full and getting paid cash to sit tight. However there familial obligations awaiting me in Brazil. So I went with my bandwagon of pissed-off "voluntarios", a Colombian, a Guatemalan, and two other Brazilians, and hopped on the next sardine-packed tin flight to the Atlantic seaboard.
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
Sailboats, Sustainability & Stuff
Sailboats, Sustainability, and Getting Rid of Stuff.
6:00PM TUESDAY November 7th, UC Santa Barbara, Multicultural Center.
This slideshow will focus on how life aboard a sailboat leads us to a heightened sense of sustainability. Every system required for life - energy, water, waste, transport - is fine tuned for simplicity. This isn't necessarily for the sake of eco-consciousness, but rather for maximum efficiency. Whereas a complex society's needs are hard to fathom, the sailboat let's us pierce into the heart of the matter. Sustainability, and getting rid of stuff, becomes a practical issue, not just for safety but also for quality of life. After all, the joy is in going places, not in dealing with stuff. These insights can be applied to make our day-to-day life (on land) simpler, more sustainable, and hence more enjoyable.
NOTE: this slideshow will draw on the themes from the City College presentation (see below) but will be slightly different.
...click on the space below for the next slide...
6:00PM TUESDAY November 7th, UC Santa Barbara, Multicultural Center.
This slideshow will focus on how life aboard a sailboat leads us to a heightened sense of sustainability. Every system required for life - energy, water, waste, transport - is fine tuned for simplicity. This isn't necessarily for the sake of eco-consciousness, but rather for maximum efficiency. Whereas a complex society's needs are hard to fathom, the sailboat let's us pierce into the heart of the matter. Sustainability, and getting rid of stuff, becomes a practical issue, not just for safety but also for quality of life. After all, the joy is in going places, not in dealing with stuff. These insights can be applied to make our day-to-day life (on land) simpler, more sustainable, and hence more enjoyable.
NOTE: this slideshow will draw on the themes from the City College presentation (see below) but will be slightly different.
...click on the space below for the next slide...
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