tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88265821246741342202024-03-06T02:27:05.563-06:00Random Thoughts...and Stream of Consciousness RamblingsJohn Langfordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16483420812373520287noreply@blogger.comBlogger144125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8826582124674134220.post-84253557215729908872013-03-27T12:15:00.000-05:002016-12-18T23:04:03.743-06:00Farewell to Fidel<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:DocumentProperties> <o:Template>Normal.dotm</o:Template> <o:Revision>0</o:Revision> <o:TotalTime>0</o:TotalTime> <o:Pages>1</o:Pages> <o:Words>774</o:Words> <o:Characters>4416</o:Characters> <o:Company>john langford photography</o:Company> <o:Lines>36</o:Lines> <o:Paragraphs>8</o:Paragraphs> <o:CharactersWithSpaces>5423</o:CharactersWithSpaces> <o:Version>12.0</o:Version> </o:DocumentProperties> <o:OfficeDocumentSettings> <o:AllowPNG/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings></xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves>false</w:TrackMoves> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing> <w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing> <w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery> <w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:DontAutofitConstrainedTables/> <w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/> </w:Compatibility> </w:WordDocument></xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="276"> </w:LatentStyles></xml><![endif]--> <!--[if gte mso 10]><style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} </style><![endif]--> <!--StartFragment--> <br />
<b style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">8:00 a.m. Departure Lounge, José Marti International Airport, Havana, Cuba</b><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This has been an interesting morning so far.<span style="font-size: xx-small;"> </span></span><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I woke up at 5:30 a.m. to shower and head out the door to the airport. Last night, my trusty guide Jesus insisted that a friend of his would be at my front door to take me there. Sure enough, Roberto was there at 6 a.m. sharp, and wedged my backpack into the trunk of his car, along with the well-worn spare tire and a freshly filled can of gasoline. I deduced this from the overpowering fumes and the greasy rags which had been used to soak up the puddle. He had yet to say a word to me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Roberto appeared to be around 70 years old...about the same age as his car. The interior of his ancient automobile was so tiny that even in the fetal position I could barely close the door. When he finally did speak, he sounded as if he had a sock full of gravel in his mouth. Either that or he had just come from the dentist, which seemed unlikely at 6 in the morning. He asked me in Spanish "Which terminal are you going to?” I told him I was on the Cubana Air flight to Santo Domingo.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I then (mis)understood Roberto asking which AIRPORT I wanted to go to … that there were 5 airports in Havana. “That can’t be right! I can’t think of a single city on the planet with 5 international airports!" As the fog began to clear from my sleepy brain, and I remembered that the name of the airport was José Marti. This seemed to satisfy him and off we went.</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It suddenly occurred to me that I had agreed to pay him $25 but that I only had five $10 notes, so I asked him if he had smaller bills. He didn’t. We promptly stopped at a roadside eatery and he hopped out to go get change. There were tables outside which were illuminated by harsh fluorescent tubes in the the pitch darkness, and the clientele seemed to consist entirely of prostitutes on their way home from the late shift, or beginning the early shift. Either that or it was “Dress Like a Slut” Thursday at work. There was nobody in line, but it seemed to take Roberto an eternity to get change.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Once again we set off, but it soon became evident that Roberto had never been to the airport in his life. Maybe because aviation was a relatively new invention when he was born, he thought that it was just a passing fad and had lost interest. Each time we’d a approach a road sign, he’d slow down to almost a complete stop to peruse it in a leisurely fashion. At least that's what I thought until I noticed he was squinting and that we probably should have a seeing-eye dog in the car. Pretty soon I decided it would be more efficient for me to read the signs and give him directions. The road was so full of potholes that when he swerved to avoid one we’d jump about a lane and a half to the left or right.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Not only was it dark, but we were heading into a dense fog. When we came upon a sign that said “Aeropuerto 2” with an arrow pointing to the right, I assumed the airport was 2 kilometers away. We pulled up to a mostly dark building with a deserted parking lot and a few silhouetted figures sitting in the dark outside. Roberto was obviously eager to be on his way, but I kept insisting that this was not the right place, so he suggested I go ask for directions. “So let me get this straight” I thought, “You live here, you speak Spanish fluently and I don’t, you’re the one driving, we're running late, we've arrived at this empty building and you want ME to ask for directions?!?!?!"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I saw a staircase with light emanating from the door at the top, so I dashed to the top and walked down a long corridor of dark offices repeating the word “Hola?...Hola?” But to no avail. When I came back downstairs, Roberto was trying to bum a light for his cigar from one of the people sitting in the dark. Thanks pal! Just then I saw a woman in a uniform with her shirt untucked as if she was just finishing the graveyard shift emerge from the shadows and I asked her in Spanish if she knew where the terminal for international departures was. She told me that it was terminal 3 and pointed off into the fog. I could tell that Roberto was really bummed not to be rid of me.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We meandered for a while, but eventually arrived at a large modern building surrounded by lots of cars and activity. I saw some guys in uniform and suggested we stop and ask if this was the place. He rolled down the window and I did all the talking, while Roberto sat there mute. He pulled into the parking lot which was about 1000 yards from the entrance, rather than dropping me off at the front door. Oh…and when he got change earlier, he kept his portion of it, so I wasn’t able to “adjust” his fee. Thanks for everything man!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Inside, the lower floor was dark and deserted…clearly not where the ticket counters were located. I asked for directions and when I eventually arrived at the ticket counter there was already a LOOOONG line. I was relieved to see a beautiful, smiling attendant behind the counter until I put my glasses on and realized that it was a life-sized photograph on the wall.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br />Instead, the counter was manned by three guys who were not pleased to be working at 6:45 a.m. I have seen glaciers that moved at a faster pace. In addition, the queue resembled a strand of mutating DNA…large groups of people would arrive, greet someone in line and insert themselves ahead of all the passengers behind them. One guy in particular had an entourage larger than Justin Bieber's which kept growing in size with each passing minute.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We had now entered geological time….minutes stretched into eons. By the time I reached the front fo the line, several people had celebrated birthdays, anniversaries and one woman had had a baby. After paying my departure tax and finding my gate, I sat down and finally exhaled. Total time elapsed since arriving at the airport…one and a half hours.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Please don't get me wrong. I absolutely loved my month in Cuba! If only the crumbling walls and flaking paint could speak, what tales they could tell of a man who liked to write and catch big fish named Ernest Hemingway, or the scraggly-bearded but devastatingly handsome revolutionary named Che Guevara, or America's Public Enemy Number One..the flamboyant gangster named Al Capone who played high stakes poker in Havana's casinos while enjoying Cuba's finest rum and cigars and señoritas.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I found almost everyone I encountered to be friendly, helpful and eager to talk to an American who had entered the country illegally through Mexico because our government is still holding a 50 year old grudge and doesn't allow Americans to travel to Cuba without special permission. Many people said "Welcome to Cuba!" to me and treated me like family when I stayed in their homes. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /> If you ever have the chance to go, jump on it. It won't be long before the Cuba I visited will be taken over by McDonald's and Starbucks and KFC. You'll have a blast...but when you get ready to leave, just make sure you take a map in case your driver is a guy by the name of Roberto.</span></div>
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John Langfordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16483420812373520287noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8826582124674134220.post-77068746326130116432012-12-05T09:55:00.000-06:002013-09-10T07:53:01.206-05:00First World Problems<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:DocumentProperties> <o:Template>Normal.dotm</o:Template> <o:Revision>0</o:Revision> <o:TotalTime>0</o:TotalTime> <o:Pages>1</o:Pages> <o:Words>504</o:Words> <o:Characters>2878</o:Characters> <o:Company>john langford photography</o:Company> <o:Lines>23</o:Lines> <o:Paragraphs>5</o:Paragraphs> <o:CharactersWithSpaces>3534</o:CharactersWithSpaces> <o:Version>12.0</o:Version> </o:DocumentProperties> <o:OfficeDocumentSettings> <o:AllowPNG/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings></xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves>false</w:TrackMoves> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing> <w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing> <w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery> <w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:DontAutofitConstrainedTables/> <w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/> </w:Compatibility> </w:WordDocument></xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="276"> </w:LatentStyles></xml><![endif]--> <!--[if gte mso 10]><style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} </style><![endif]--> <!--StartFragment--> <br /><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7snZosYAN6RKpSg9jvwHGHac-XI0oS-NLgozvpUb5n3NjjBnsbJtgcRw1BGPWEFzHSFJBc8960bD_f91FBXjJ1b9dItbBG8HnPRAZSXU9IV2MmRYXtFOlLVZ88JtgsamQnjQWAxCfaiMA/s1600/hilton+hotel_3086.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7snZosYAN6RKpSg9jvwHGHac-XI0oS-NLgozvpUb5n3NjjBnsbJtgcRw1BGPWEFzHSFJBc8960bD_f91FBXjJ1b9dItbBG8HnPRAZSXU9IV2MmRYXtFOlLVZ88JtgsamQnjQWAxCfaiMA/s400/hilton+hotel_3086.jpg" width="400" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If you’re reading this on your iPad or smart phone, you’re probably a person who struggles with First World Problems.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’ve spent the past two years as a vagabond, sometimes staying in places with no running water, no air-conditioning or heat, sharing a room with as many as 7 other people and sharing a bathroom with 30 other people. I've slept on the smelly floor of a dive shop or curled up in the fetal position on a sofa too short for my not quite 6 foot length, or lay awake listening to crowing roosters or </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">car alarms or </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">wailing from the loud-speakers of a nearby temple at all hours of the day and night.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-jNCr7-UjH4iRevv1NhzgvBLdqwcGHvxHaqKwkQpT3Z7e4AuG0AaT2BvYDnUxF7mGIrDh_Zt7Bso9BZnrkMX-j_0yhhitMi4EL3INj-uUuOT8qgnV78RHqocaXc-kprAl7zCwPSYckl35/s1600/air+conditioning_7983.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-jNCr7-UjH4iRevv1NhzgvBLdqwcGHvxHaqKwkQpT3Z7e4AuG0AaT2BvYDnUxF7mGIrDh_Zt7Bso9BZnrkMX-j_0yhhitMi4EL3INj-uUuOT8qgnV78RHqocaXc-kprAl7zCwPSYckl35/s400/air+conditioning_7983.jpg" width="281" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When I'm traveling, I seem to have a much easier time adjusting to these discomforts and shrugging them off as part of the adventure...or the makings of a tall tale to tell later. I’m usually able to convince myself that it’s the trade-off for having an amazing lifestyle...trotting around the globe for the sheer joy of it, taking photographs for my own enjoyment, reading for pleasure, writing for fun and lapping up the incredible experiences that fill my charmed life.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I thought I had become pretty adept at letting go of expectations and not being too attached to creature comforts, but for some reason when I returned to "civilization”, I found myself feeling irritated about the smallest things. Incidentally, I could make a pretty strong argument that what passes for civilization in the First World… instant gratification, decadence and over-consumption of every description, obesity, heart disease and an ever-increasing diet of reality TV and anti-depressants…isn’t really civilization at all.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When I'm whining about running out of breakfast cereal, I try to remind myself of the many people I’ve met during my travels who struggle daily with not having enough food to eat. I bitch to myself about the barking dogs in the neighborhood where generous friends are letting me stay in their home, while on the other side of the globe there are people I've met who live each day hoping that they don't step on a land mine left behind from a forgotten war. </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8OmRO1rJY6G4bIRgi-FLYB1zgoGGBcsbOp1hQVIJqtzaauuQ4Hmvf_LaysFbfdXdx_rQPBGZcLm02ZaBqJHwkg0qaUlpLfx7e4fo4zt1duiOTXEzwU4RzwX57ReN67hET5pCTCTrHwzjh/s1600/hunger+cholera+rape.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8OmRO1rJY6G4bIRgi-FLYB1zgoGGBcsbOp1hQVIJqtzaauuQ4Hmvf_LaysFbfdXdx_rQPBGZcLm02ZaBqJHwkg0qaUlpLfx7e4fo4zt1duiOTXEzwU4RzwX57ReN67hET5pCTCTrHwzjh/s400/hunger+cholera+rape.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I think of the the Kenyan taxi driver who sleeps in his car or the Cambodian parents who have to decide each day whether to send their kids to school during the day or out onto the streets at night to sell trinkets...or their innocence…in order to make ends meet, and I realize that most of the things that annoy me definitely fall under the category of “First World Problems”….</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For example:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I play “Words With Friends” on Facebook I have to sit through a 15 second ad before I can make my next move.</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span> <iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="360" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/D2p5svFJ9cQ" width="640"></iframe><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">2. The car my friend loaned me for free is hard to park and gets poor gas mileage.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4NmAfzBiOBC82ucxqqmhWFkdLuMBXAVC0_O6muw23kxLF8DUNQXNKR-rd6BiGHA0VjMSr_oe80MY1ZYVfH7sc4WZD8zLfDLPP2qZOJGSUdAqfN4MNJJYwhMQUJ8q7mrIkFKzQARhAeBz_/s1600/mercedes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4NmAfzBiOBC82ucxqqmhWFkdLuMBXAVC0_O6muw23kxLF8DUNQXNKR-rd6BiGHA0VjMSr_oe80MY1ZYVfH7sc4WZD8zLfDLPP2qZOJGSUdAqfN4MNJJYwhMQUJ8q7mrIkFKzQARhAeBz_/s1600/mercedes.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">3.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One of the places I’ve stayed (for free) since returning to the States was a luxury yacht, but to go ashore I had to step down at least three feet and walk two and half blocks to find anything to eat. There were so many choices it was really frustrating.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe48segsvf3HDzFnP9AHymWqpcqqDmlReWB9Tdiyc4IJCmTy7EwTIgYTtENGJeVS1674imWT3pcn62yKftC6v7YhVjIrXEyOvow3PL4v9snvP-D51lFlLb3tWEN_YynkgAESZBM_WIYq4I/s1600/mcdonalds.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe48segsvf3HDzFnP9AHymWqpcqqDmlReWB9Tdiyc4IJCmTy7EwTIgYTtENGJeVS1674imWT3pcn62yKftC6v7YhVjIrXEyOvow3PL4v9snvP-D51lFlLb3tWEN_YynkgAESZBM_WIYq4I/s1600/mcdonalds.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">4.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have so much music and so many photos , TV shows and movies on my computer that when I try to do a backup I get an error message that says there’s not enough room on my external hard drive.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFRjzMLHEDd8d6tW-fic4k0vvkvIakXn_n1VawbzWCKTmHnon9xbsTlzs99gaESHRb8NOq5R8qo6DCQr59hH_eHql58ke0i1Ca2-nI-ZqL1pAHasvl1rV94o7n0i5FJC8cVfm4UwjYwuCP/s1600/forgot+to+sync+ipod.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFRjzMLHEDd8d6tW-fic4k0vvkvIakXn_n1VawbzWCKTmHnon9xbsTlzs99gaESHRb8NOq5R8qo6DCQr59hH_eHql58ke0i1Ca2-nI-ZqL1pAHasvl1rV94o7n0i5FJC8cVfm4UwjYwuCP/s1600/forgot+to+sync+ipod.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">5.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I recently got a sinus infection and when I went to pick up my prescription, I had to wait in line for at least 10 minutes at the pharmacy. Plus, I really need to blow my nose, but I'm completely out of Kleenex.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmS0yg2l-R2AHwN4uSNjOHGT-0gU6iW8GE7oDSXmeIDvcun1N8pGLulpoHoIocWhq7neK4fliJOnMsrSvYZPhxrBXHD0sT2OsSi7FshkkbbB7KXUkNnc-pLOSaZiafUn2w0p_2TlG0m6bp/s1600/bed+too+big.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmS0yg2l-R2AHwN4uSNjOHGT-0gU6iW8GE7oDSXmeIDvcun1N8pGLulpoHoIocWhq7neK4fliJOnMsrSvYZPhxrBXHD0sT2OsSi7FshkkbbB7KXUkNnc-pLOSaZiafUn2w0p_2TlG0m6bp/s1600/bed+too+big.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">6.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’m not supposed to wear my new Invisalign braces while I’m drinking coffee or red wine, which makes it really difficult to wear them enough hours a day for them to actually straighten my teeth.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxUejSivV_Dr5wD2sYomsPvoHM-XhuIhFhbOgUpjp4TAoQnpJFUe5-OXGCHwXBBRWSaYR04CgN4eNVLteipRYTbNLMc7G1oloF96XVUfSEXB7AXPJUVQHBoUIlIysgxH566edTATvFs5f5/s1600/water.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxUejSivV_Dr5wD2sYomsPvoHM-XhuIhFhbOgUpjp4TAoQnpJFUe5-OXGCHwXBBRWSaYR04CgN4eNVLteipRYTbNLMc7G1oloF96XVUfSEXB7AXPJUVQHBoUIlIysgxH566edTATvFs5f5/s1600/water.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">7. When I go to my rowing lessons in the morning it’s really chilly.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sometimes the temperature is in the high 40’s...Brr!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxf4scxyt36dBGLuAH0ed1nE6klecH-0GrC6oxUk3bAEwViYLR1wMjZdyWkq2JUJCkiFEX6idp98nUtiXwNk1e7im2oovuWN79jtyuFcljt-qcmGoRSt-SLW2ZMGgTU50dsS5ZNGVSXJPZ/s1600/treadmill.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="409" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxf4scxyt36dBGLuAH0ed1nE6klecH-0GrC6oxUk3bAEwViYLR1wMjZdyWkq2JUJCkiFEX6idp98nUtiXwNk1e7im2oovuWN79jtyuFcljt-qcmGoRSt-SLW2ZMGgTU50dsS5ZNGVSXJPZ/s640/treadmill.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">8.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At my favorite coffee shop they don’t always leave enough room in the mug for milk.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg349uJ4hON94-EiiEq1HVp3LlP0dFKlBG2Tc0cYp01g0kl2pA0xjnL-rBP2ecgmxeJVk2WCiUFLELE4ll_pmwGlpdFRO8IDXLxjdF8tq1eG1a02dLdYvlIgv69h89I1UymQ6sWnMM4Fl0u/s1600/breakfast-first-world-problems-photo-u1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg349uJ4hON94-EiiEq1HVp3LlP0dFKlBG2Tc0cYp01g0kl2pA0xjnL-rBP2ecgmxeJVk2WCiUFLELE4ll_pmwGlpdFRO8IDXLxjdF8tq1eG1a02dLdYvlIgv69h89I1UymQ6sWnMM4Fl0u/s1600/breakfast-first-world-problems-photo-u1.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">9.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The “home” button on my new iPhone is harder to press than on my previous iPhone</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaoHXMpvJCtPy_bb8MHvuMdWToMIRN4FIa7BL3gRES9RzyI7WWUU2aH3vh8VKibCXy92Sjkji2lPc13fiXEP_I_dJ-g9AS2A2Tc2LYvaiASba4l-U6RMKO4P0vD-hpKsWoUp6yrkU_Q8Ao/s1600/restart+computer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaoHXMpvJCtPy_bb8MHvuMdWToMIRN4FIa7BL3gRES9RzyI7WWUU2aH3vh8VKibCXy92Sjkji2lPc13fiXEP_I_dJ-g9AS2A2Tc2LYvaiASba4l-U6RMKO4P0vD-hpKsWoUp6yrkU_Q8Ao/s1600/restart+computer.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">10. Too many friends have treated me to so much food that all my clothes are too tight.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And scheduling all these meals and happy hours takes a lot of time.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOB6gU48XIh8DOTAjQ0a0rBKEVTQEVm7AS3RhLa7J-eJlQYTpQNFQr9GwH_plzlDbNHwC8nTbhewSz-BJV0NZq33XWaL6KQ46Apw2a8TG97rG8D35mL01rlX2UsaF1S7X4xcOihXiSY9UE/s1600/sandwich+too+full.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOB6gU48XIh8DOTAjQ0a0rBKEVTQEVm7AS3RhLa7J-eJlQYTpQNFQr9GwH_plzlDbNHwC8nTbhewSz-BJV0NZq33XWaL6KQ46Apw2a8TG97rG8D35mL01rlX2UsaF1S7X4xcOihXiSY9UE/s1600/sandwich+too+full.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For more First World Problems visit: </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://first-world-problems.com/">http://first-world-problems.com</a></span></div></div><!--EndFragment-->John Langfordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16483420812373520287noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8826582124674134220.post-18702418876356117802012-06-25T14:31:00.000-05:002013-09-10T07:53:01.266-05:00Dear Caroline<br /><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The following is an email exchange between me and a friend of mine who’s an extremely talented musician and who, in the 25 years I’ve known her, has done everything in her power NOT to share her amazing talent….<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">dear caroline:<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;">your homework is due. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;">6 weeks ago i challenged you to perform one live gig and to line up another gig by today…and you accepted my challenge. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;">how was your gig? did you feel nervous? excited? both? was the audience receptive? did you receive a standing ovation? or did they boo? did you leave feeling proud...that you had done your best...or that you held something back?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;">if you didn't perform anywhere, and you haven't lined up a gig, then i renew my challenge. the venue can be anywhere...invite someone who's a friend to join you if that'll make it easier. but you need to have something at stake. that's the difference between a professional and an amateur. put your guitar case on the ground with the top open. or a tip jar. or a coconut shell. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;">do you accept?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;">if you didn't step up to the plate, i invite you to ask yourself the following questions:<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;">1. why did i accept this challenge?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;">2. why didn't i deliver the goods?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;">3. do i think i have anything to offer a musical audience? in other words...am i "good"?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;">4. if the answer to #3 is no, then why not?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;">5. do i really want to be a musician, or do i just like the idea of being a musician?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;">6. what are the possible outcomes if i perform solo in front of an audience?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;">a. they will think i suck and i'll be revealed as the no-talent impostor i think i am.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;">b. they'll boo and throw rotten tomatoes at me<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;">c. they'll tell all their friends how bad i am and i'll never be able to pick up a guitar or sing in public or show my face in this town again.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;">d. i will die of shame<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;">e. i'll be the next grammy award winning female vocalist and/or songwriter of the year<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;">f. none of the above...i will simply have the experience of performing live, of taking the challenge, of throwing my hat in the ring, of getting in the game. and...i can say to myself "you did it!" then i can decide whether i want to do it again. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;">btw, if the answer to #5 is no...i love music, i love playing music and being around musicians but i just don't want to be in the spotlight or i'm not ready to take this on right now or i just want to keep music as a hobby (which is a great idea...i can’t think of a more surefire way to whip the life and soul out of something you love doing than to do it for a living) then that is completely ok...<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;">but if the answer is "yes, i want to be a REAL musician, then why am i making excuses, which may include, but are not limited to:<o:p></o:p></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;">a. i've been busy moving house</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;">b. when i come home from work i'm too tired<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;">c. i've got a lot going on right now<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;">d. i've been preoccupied with this, that or the other thing.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;">just so you know…all of those excuses are exactly that…excuses. they're a smoke screen for fear. fear of failure? or maybe fear of success? what would happen if you are really as good as i think you are...then what? <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;">do you feel upset right now? annoyed? unjustly accused? agitated? defensive? angry? if so, then maybe what i'm saying has some truth to it. if you're not having any of those responses, then you've either got a legitimate excuse, or you're dead. which is a legitimate excuse. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;">by now you're probably thinking "enough already....just leave me alone!" </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;">if so, my response is:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;">1. i care about you and for as long as i've known you i've thought you were an amazing musician, guitar player, singer and song writer. the world would be a better place if more people heard you play and sing...or even if they heard other people play and sing music you've written...although that wouldn't be nearly as enjoyable. by not stepping up to the plate...even if it means complete "failure" (there is no such thing by the way)...then you are depriving the rest of us…you are being selfish with your talent.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;">2. here's the kicker....this is actually a letter to myself.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;">i'll leave you with a few quotes and a link to a friend's blog. he writes music and sings and performs all the time. has for years…and he’d be the first to tell you it’s really scary.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;">much love... <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 11.0pt .5in; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.5in;"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 11.0pt .5in; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.5in;"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;">john<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 11.0pt .5in; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.5in;"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #262626;">"You gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which you really stop </span>to to look fear in the face ...You must do the thing you think you cannot do."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left; text-indent: -0.5in;"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left; text-indent: -0.5in;"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;"> :: Eleanor Roosevelt ::<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left; text-indent: -0.5in;"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left; text-indent: -0.5in;"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;"> "Whatever you can do, or dream you can, begin it.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left; text-indent: -0.5in;"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;"> Boldness has genius, power and magic in it. Begin it now."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left; text-indent: -0.5in;"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left; text-indent: -0.5in;"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;"> :: Goethe ::<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left; text-indent: -0.5in;"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left; text-indent: -0.5in;"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;"> "Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;">nor do the children of men</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left; text-indent: -0.5in;"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;"> as a whole experience it. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;">Avoiding danger is no safer </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;">in the long run than outright exposure. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;">Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left; text-indent: -0.5in;"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left; text-indent: -0.5in;"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;"> :: Helen Keller ::<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left; text-indent: -0.5in;"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left; text-indent: -0.5in;"><span style="color: #2e428b; font-family: Arial;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left; text-indent: -0.5in;"><span style="color: #2e428b; font-family: Arial;"> </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><a href="http://triptopine.wordpress.com/2012/05/27/regarding-todays-outdoor-gig-an-open-letter-to-the-universe/" target="_blank">Regarding today’s outdoor gig: An open letter to the Universe :: Tim Birchard</a></span></b><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;">
</span><span style="color: #6d6d6d; font-family: Arial;">triptopine.wordpress.com</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #6d6d6d; font-family: Arial;">_____________________________________________________________</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">hey caroline:</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">i sent you an email and haven't heard back from you.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">are you ok? alive? in a ditch? in the hospital?</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">talk to me....</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">love,</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">j.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #6d6d6d; font-family: Arial;">_____________________________________________________________<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ91ZOWoM2z-TXeWKoEBwx_ZcwcW7a1folK-8A5QlHUn8sZrvIPTh0mIYU_o4u6JJh64KTOnVGkEqjMyUk1WDD_djfT8MsIvYF8jGj_ikjINd74ShazpD5pyhNq3HAlMDWimFDnOcz5q_I/s1600/travel+journal_3692.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="394" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ91ZOWoM2z-TXeWKoEBwx_ZcwcW7a1folK-8A5QlHUn8sZrvIPTh0mIYU_o4u6JJh64KTOnVGkEqjMyUk1WDD_djfT8MsIvYF8jGj_ikjINd74ShazpD5pyhNq3HAlMDWimFDnOcz5q_I/s640/travel+journal_3692.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Chalkduster;">dear john...<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Chalkduster;">I apologize for my delay in responding to your heartfelt letter...I have been composing a response since I got it...but have been in the throes of...playing music!...<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Chalkduster;">so many things you said confronted me...it is a worthy challenge to anyone pursuing a creative path...I like what you said at the end about it being a letter to you, really :)<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Chalkduster;">when my assignment was due, I can say that I succeeded, at least in part to your challenge...though not completely...</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Chalkduster;">I spent a weekend playing my original music at the Kerrville folk festival...it's not as informal a place as you might think, I played for some heavy hitters...</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Chalkduster;">I was singing non-stop and stepping up to the solo plate to perform for friends and strangers alike...including some very discriminating song circles...</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Chalkduster;">your questions are so valid...and I do appreciate the supportive spirit of your "assignments"...you are quite right...it's high time to step up...that's what I'm doing...you have had a part in nudging me...I am grateful my friend...</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Chalkduster;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Chalkduster;">again, I'm sorry for the delay to your notes...I took it seriously, and wanted to reply when I could honor both of us properly...I didn't intend to take so long...</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Chalkduster;">caroline</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Chalkduster;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Chalkduster;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Optima; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Chalkduster;">p.s. the very day I got your second challenge I was offered a solo gig in Austin playing for a private party...</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Chalkduster;">I performed last weekend with my friend Will Taylor who accompanied me on viola</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Optima; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Optima; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br /></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #6d6d6d; font-family: Arial;">_____________________________________________________________<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;">wow! that's fantastic news! congratulations! salud! mazel tov!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;">i am so pleased and tickled to hear that you're "doing it"! you seemed almost apologetic that <a href="http://www.kerrville-music.com/" target="_blank">kerrville folk festival</a> wasn't the real deal. it IS the real deal. i actually thought of kerrville as a possible venue from the very beginning.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;">and isn't it interesting that no sooner had you stepped out on the tight rope than your intention attracted another opportunity to perform. not at all coincidental in my humble opinion. and the fact that it was <a href="http://www.stringsattached.org/" target="_blank">will taylor</a>, who has played with some big names in the music world, is further validation that others, who know alot more about music than i do, also appreciate your talent.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;">and to further underscore the synchronicity of all this, i was feeling "guilty"....(i hate that word and that feeling) that i hadn't posted anything to my blog lately....and i was just proof reading my latest entry when i got your message.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;">how 'bout them apples?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;">j.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #6d6d6d; font-family: Arial;">_____________________________________________________________<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Chalkduster;">love them apples! I don't think those opportunities, born from taking the tight-rope step, are coincidental either..."one thing can lead to another...it doesn't take any sacrifice..." (james taylor, <a href="http://youtu.be/VRZSHXSNjiM" target="_blank">shower the people you love with love</a>)...</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Chalkduster;">I'm happy to say I'll be opening a show for Steve Weichert at the Cactus Cafe on Sat night...July 14th too...<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Chalkduster;">btw, I'm looking into a train ride from austin to flagstaff, az and the grand canyon for my 50th birthday...that. is. my. intention!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Chalkduster;">you have been such a good friend to care enough to pester me so...love you dear...thank you...<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Chalkduster;">caroline</span></div>John Langfordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16483420812373520287noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8826582124674134220.post-81774878789132445312012-06-20T13:53:00.000-05:002013-09-10T07:53:01.315-05:00Gone Fishing<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOa89nBFdCChaLTpEgJGWslXs4BTiyPNKc2CDXfmelL9sPLx8aXjXc5p1C2UA2hLHLcmwpYvhT8G_xR1OrsSwQSNwwId6oKDnE1wkOXBKc8NrGBWifyhEfz13HowihdRLvfUFI-B0e5Ry3/s1600/fishing+nets_6615.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOa89nBFdCChaLTpEgJGWslXs4BTiyPNKc2CDXfmelL9sPLx8aXjXc5p1C2UA2hLHLcmwpYvhT8G_xR1OrsSwQSNwwId6oKDnE1wkOXBKc8NrGBWifyhEfz13HowihdRLvfUFI-B0e5Ry3/s400/fishing+nets_6615.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">The other day I was walking down the sandy street which is the main thoroughfare on the tiny island of Caye Caulker, Belize.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"> It's </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">lined with stalls full of T-shirts and trinkets, wood carvings and what not, and vendors calling out to the sunburned tourists passing by.</span><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Within 90 seconds of stepping off the ferry, 3 guys offered me accommodations, 2 guys in golf carts offered to transport me to my accommodations, 2 ladies offered me handwoven blankets and another guy promised the choicest ganja in all of Central America.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">After politely declining their solicitations, I was approached by a guy with an offer he was absolutely certain I couldn't refuse... a sweet deal on a deep sea fishing excursion. </span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">His face fell when I told him that I associate fishing with Eternal Damnation.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL1777AwP4fFBi7uXH-I-tdFaU9J3x0zOBsXNTxvC4dSfSba9suTRo4wERkN5lbMWIb3wxQwkwpVSIZyQts_2ZgrP8bq3PWm6IlIn8OovNekIxlmbFytqpKF9SbpCnGQAZJQoce9IF4zFx/s1600/fish_4136.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL1777AwP4fFBi7uXH-I-tdFaU9J3x0zOBsXNTxvC4dSfSba9suTRo4wERkN5lbMWIb3wxQwkwpVSIZyQts_2ZgrP8bq3PWm6IlIn8OovNekIxlmbFytqpKF9SbpCnGQAZJQoce9IF4zFx/s400/fish_4136.jpg" width="300" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">My grandfather used to take my younger brother and me fishing in a bass boat which he pulled on a trailer with a Louisiana license plate that bore the motto “Sportman’s Paradise”.</span><br /><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">Paradise was exactly what I longed for as we sat in the blazing summer heat wearing long sleeves and jeans to protect us from sunburn. The oppressive temperature was magnified by the aluminum frying pan in which we were sitting, and the reflective surface of the lake, only inches away, it beckoned us with the promise of cool relief. Water, water everywhere…but for fishing only. Not swimming.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">We had to sit as still as statues, watching in tortured boredom as our red and white plastic floaters bobbed on the surface of the murky lake. Time slowed to a geological pace. After an eon or so, one of us would get a nibble and the floater would be pulled below the surface. </span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">Jerking on our bamboo pole and then feeling the line go slack, we invariably hoisted our hook from the water to see it glinting in the scorching sun…baitless. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">The catfish were simply toying with us. If, during these nano-seconds of grappling with what we imagined to be leviathans from the deep, we accidentally shuffled our feet</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"> or let out an exclamation of excitement, we received a heavy sigh </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">and/or a reprimand for frightening the fish.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"> What fun!</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhasK_kYFH_VtOHMYJOI-9VBV6KOKAw4q2I2_26fKFz_VFArIDGIq_yKj8Azxia4-XRdTp4CT2_VdEwiPrDLXA5C2aRayMCvhwSyn4t_F-oUfKTIlItArvDESoeK6eLCT3iFbyvFm8FLQgv/s1600/leg+rowing_3219.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhasK_kYFH_VtOHMYJOI-9VBV6KOKAw4q2I2_26fKFz_VFArIDGIq_yKj8Azxia4-XRdTp4CT2_VdEwiPrDLXA5C2aRayMCvhwSyn4t_F-oUfKTIlItArvDESoeK6eLCT3iFbyvFm8FLQgv/s400/leg+rowing_3219.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">When we finally abandoned our futile efforts and headed back to the green Ford LTD that had been baking in the scorching sun all afternoon, we had to endure a 2 hour nausea-inducing ride that was much like the seventh circle of hell in Dante’s Inferno. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">Once we got home, we’d sit around in the back yard swatting mosquitoes while grand dad fired up a bubbling cauldron of oil, followed by a dinner of fried fillets full of tiny bones...washed down with iced tea, the house wine of the South.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">Afterwards, there’d be the interminable wait while grand dad poured rock salt into the ice-cream maker and hand-cranked it for an eternity. Even as a child it baffled me why someone who was born before electricity was in wide-spread use wouldn't want to take full advantage of it. Long after dark and the fireflies were headed home to bed, we’d have a taste of the gooey, runny white concoction which many people nostalgically remember as “home made vanilla ice cream”. </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">All of that to say that when someone invites me on a fishing trip, I’d rather sign up for 8 hours stuck in an elevator with an insurance salesman followed by a colonoscopy. <o:p></o:p></span></div>John Langfordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16483420812373520287noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8826582124674134220.post-33163362844666091232012-06-03T12:45:00.000-05:002013-09-10T07:53:01.343-05:00I've Dived and Gone to Heaven<br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaWW03D396lqoGtq8zudKYCCLW9wyBzDErFj5HaKEwBOP-0QYrU60fqg-WyUjj9J2G_Xg2s3GifnswJI2CqfWYNMzOhitVOtSD7r4uRxecUyOQYSk2m0f-lpQkvxK8fmyrp5FTWC0d4D2f/s1600/shark+cropped_4277.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaWW03D396lqoGtq8zudKYCCLW9wyBzDErFj5HaKEwBOP-0QYrU60fqg-WyUjj9J2G_Xg2s3GifnswJI2CqfWYNMzOhitVOtSD7r4uRxecUyOQYSk2m0f-lpQkvxK8fmyrp5FTWC0d4D2f/s640/shark+cropped_4277.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Can you spot the shark in this photo before it spots you? </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">©www.CosmicCandidCamera.com</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">As I descended the buoy line into the increasingly cold, dark and murky abyss...unable to see the bottom, or more than 10 feet in front of me, I could hear only the sound of my breathing and feel the bubbles rising past my ears as I exhaled through my regulator.</span></div></div></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">I felt like a flag flapping in the wind as my body swung perpendicular to the rope in the powerful current. I was already shivering when my mask began to fill with icy water. The thought went through my mind that if I lost my grip I’d be swept into the middle of the Pacific Ocean where the likelihood of anyone finding me would be slim. I was reminded of the poster for the movie “Alien”….</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><i>In outer space no one can hear you scream.</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The four of us finally reached the bottom...125 feet below the surface. Letting go of the rope and clinging precariously to the rocks, we inched our way hand over hand until we reached a lookout point frequented by large reef sharks. Peering down from our perch atop an underwater cliff, the rocky wall below us plunged into a deeper, darker pit of blackness. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">To make matters worse, the dive computer strapped to my wrist was beeping manically, alerting me that I needed to head to the surface NOW. The deeper you dive, the more slowly you need to ascend in order to avoid the risk of decompression sickness, paralysis or even death. But I didn't have much choice....I could either leave the group and take a chance on not being able to find my way back in the semi-twilight terrain around me, or I could stay until the rest of the group was ready to ascend. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">But at that depth and chilly temperature, combined with the effort required to advance into the powerful current, I was consuming a lot more air than usual.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Meanwhile, my dive computer continued to rack up the number of minutes I would need to ascend in order to get rid of the nitrogen that was rapidly accumulating in my tissues and bloodstream. It was like sitting in a taxi in the middle of a traffic jam watching the fare climb higher and higher without getting any closer to your destination. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">To continue to ignore it would not only put me in serious danger but would also render my computer useless for subsequent dives, since it to "punishes" you by shutting down completely for 24 hours if you disregard the warnings for too long.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">When we finally began our ascent, without having seen a single shark, my computer indicated that I needed 16 minutes to ascend 125 feet. That's the equivalent of walking </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">at a pace of 2 steps per minute </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">on a chilly day wearing nothing but your underwear. That’s slow. And cold! Oh...and don't forget...there was an increasingly high probability that I would run out of air. I watched the needle on my pressure gauge drop from 200 to 150 to 100. As we inched our way up the buoy line, I narrowly avoided impaling my hand on the rusty barbs of a fish hook that was imbedded in the rope. Needless to say, I made it back to the surface safely, albeit with a tank that was almost empty. I loved every minute of it.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">On the other end of the spectrum, I’ve dived in water so crystal clear that it created the optical illusion that the boat was hovering in mid-air above the ocean floor. The water temperature was like taking a bath as the sunlight played on the coral and the schools of multi-colored fish that swarmed around us. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The feeling of gliding effortlessly and weightlessly through a world that is inhabited by creatures which bear absolutely no resemblance to their terrestrial counterparts is like no other. White-tipped reef sharks that stopped evolving a million years ago because they reached the apex of efficiency with regard to killing their prey. Yellow and black and white striped angel fish swimming in pairs with long streamers trailing from their dorsal and pectoral fins. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Lobsters and octopi hiding in the cracks and crevices of rocks. Moray eels as thick as your upper arm with faces that would make an atheist believe in The Devil. Graceful sea turtles gliding by as if in slow motion....which you soon discover is not the case if you try to follow one. Kind of like watching a plane land, their speed is deceptive. Puffer fish, squirrel fish, clown fish, tarpin. Slow-moving, slack-jawed grouper that look like the village idiots compared to all the clever or comical looking fish around them. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Huge sea fans and coral with ridges and grooves that look like a massive brain. Tube sponges of neon red and yellow and green. Starfish of every size and description and picturesquely peaceful outcroppings on the faces of underwater cliffs that make you want to build an underwater house and live there. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">There's a sensation of flying, of being on another planet, of being in an altered state of consciousness...of dreaming and yet feeling completely lucid. The colors and shapes that defy description. The strange beings that look like aliens...<o:p></o:p></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">manta rays, sting rays, eagle rays...creatures that would boggle the imagination of Dr. Seuss.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The sense of camaraderie you feel with those in your dive group...knowing that you're looking out for them and they're looking out for you. At least that's the idea, anyway. The sense of danger and the need to stay alert and to keep your wits about you. The hyper-awareness of everything around you but also the sense that if you pay attention, if you check your equipment, if you stay close to your buddy and you don't do something careless or stupid, it really is a safe sport. Having done over two hundred dives I've seen very few mishaps…and most of those were the result of my own carelessness.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Whether I’m diving in claustrophobic caves, or the deep, dark depths, swimming with sharks, navigating by flashlight while night diving, struggling against strong currents, swimming through shipwrecks with the ghosts of drowned sailors, enjoying a bird’s eye view of the reef below, or descending through a coral archway as shafts of blue sunlight play on the surreal landscape and the creatures who’ve allowed me share their company, diving is a portal to an amazing and alternate universe. </span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>"All fish, reptiles, amphibians, birds, and mammals carry within their veins the elements of sodium, potassium, and calcium in almost the same proportions as the oceans. The "sea" within us has the same saltiness as the Precambrian seas of three billion years ago. Rachel Carson, in her book <a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Sea-Around-Rachel-Carson/dp/0195147014/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1338748781&sr=1-1" target="_blank"><b>The Sea Around Us</b></a>, gives us a clue to our origins: "When the animals went ashore to take up life on land, they carried part of the sea in their bodies, a heritage which they passed on to their children and which even today links each land animal with its origins in the ancient sea." :: </i><a href="http://seagrant.gso.uri.edu/factsheets/salt.html" target="_blank">Prentice K. Stout</a></span></span></div>John Langfordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16483420812373520287noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8826582124674134220.post-75619658041428475572012-05-13T22:27:00.000-05:002013-09-10T07:53:01.474-05:00My Top 10 Favorite Things<div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i> </i></span><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><b>Preface: Unless you're passionate about traveling and love gadgets, you won't enjoy reading this blog post.</b></i> <b><i>H</i></b><i><b>owever, if you're a geek like me, strap on your money belt with the secret compartment and check out these cool tools...</b></i></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There are certain personal belongings everyone loves to have with them when they travel. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"> </span></span></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></div></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For some it might be a blow-dryer or a set of golf clubs. For others, a scented candle or a chainsaw for that special occasion. And if you're an international spy, don’t leave home without a white dinner jacket and a pair of night vision goggles.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As I begin my 21st month of travel, having culled my worldly possessions down to about 100 items ( today I got rid of a pair of shoes, a wind-breaker, a wool cap, a pair of gloves and a thermal undershirt) </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">here's a list of my favorites: </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>#1 and #2: iPhone with Mophie Juice Pack</b></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdBRT1mRKa76OuiRE0wXwiKvgzl7iZT-tx4x3W8NrVuX6gxqCqYxyvuXQUqlu0ZY-3VwwjC091_oP7886q6a0sWlEmE4S7jiQrsmPNWghOXbQFGd1hY3F7LI3zECLdi3sQ0PcFCNOMAADH/s1600/Mophie+Juice+Pack.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdBRT1mRKa76OuiRE0wXwiKvgzl7iZT-tx4x3W8NrVuX6gxqCqYxyvuXQUqlu0ZY-3VwwjC091_oP7886q6a0sWlEmE4S7jiQrsmPNWghOXbQFGd1hY3F7LI3zECLdi3sQ0PcFCNOMAADH/s400/Mophie+Juice+Pack.jpg" width="266" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">These are the two most useful items I own….they have saved my bacon more times than I can count. I can access Google maps, check my email, verify foreign currency exchange rates, translate any language and read books I've downloaded. </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I much prefer turning the pages of an actual book, but it's not practical to lug them around. I have almost 150 books on my phone which enables me to make use of time on trains, planes and automobiles. Plus, it's slightly less obvious that I'm a clueless tourist when I discreetly consult my <a href="http://www.lonelyplanet.com/" target="_blank">Lonely Planet</a> guide on my phone rather than ostentatiously unfolding a map that's 2 feet square.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When I arrive in a new country, the first thing I do after going to the ATM machine at the airport </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">is to buy a local pre-paid SIM card. This only works if your phone is "unlocked". Chances are your phone ISN'T unlocked unless you purchased it without signing a contract, or you paid someone to unlock it. Once it's unlocked, it will work with </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">with any SIM card anywhere.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Beware:</b> Unlocking your phone will void the warranty and means you won't be able upgrade phone's software without running the risk of having problems with your phone. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You'll need your passport to buy a phone or a SIM card.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If you're a short term traveler, this isn't a practical solution. What you CAN do is download apps like Skype or Viber which allow you to make phone calls to any number anywhere for very little money or even for free. The only hitch is that you have to be in a wifi environment for this to work. The other solution is to buy an inexpensive local phone and then remove the SIM card and give the phone away when you leave. Or, you can try to sell or trade it. (I traded one in Fiji for a massage!) </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Because many of the applications mentioned above put a lot of drain on the phone's battery, the <a href="http://www.mophie.com/" target="_blank">Mophie Juice Pack</a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> is </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">a extremely handy accessory </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">which fits snugly around the phone like a stream-lined case, and is an external battery. When not in use, it can be turned off, and can be charged via a USB cable from your computer.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Optima;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>#3 and #4: 13" MacBook Pro</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b> and Verbatim External Hard Drives</b> </span></span></span></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjIlWUlWP3QzNCVVB5IRmcQgvJFCGzCJV5TYu4qKJxvzp6Z1S-R-lYg-5d4hOi4mve2y2uHQx2j7L8yPNIAHMZahoY9pIAjv1tAvRbN5vzCDlS3n_iqytlIgGKdHHx0opMzm_DrRL77ASs/s1600/macbook+pro.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjIlWUlWP3QzNCVVB5IRmcQgvJFCGzCJV5TYu4qKJxvzp6Z1S-R-lYg-5d4hOi4mve2y2uHQx2j7L8yPNIAHMZahoY9pIAjv1tAvRbN5vzCDlS3n_iqytlIgGKdHHx0opMzm_DrRL77ASs/s400/macbook+pro.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I love it in a way that is unnatural for a man to love a machine. I love it for its ability to do all of the above, plus it’s the repository for all my thoughts, travel schedule, emails and photos.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> It has enough horse-power and hard drive space for me to run Adobe Photoshop and to store hundreds of high resolution photos. It's not the lightest or least expensive computer on the market, so you might want to consider one of the options below.</span></div></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I see a lot of other travelers whose primary need for a computer is to check email and store photos. There are very small laptops made by Acer and Hewlett Packard as well as the ubiquitous iPad. There's now an iPad case which even includes an external keyboard.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Equally handy are my two 500GB external hard drives...the smallest ones money can buy....made by </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.verbatim.com/subcat/hard-drives/portable/" target="_blank">Verbatim</a>. I make a double back up of all my photos and keep them in a separate place from my computer. I hear so many travelers talking about losing all their photos when the have their camera stolen. The question is not "will I lose/break my camera/memory card?" but "when?". Like death and taxes, it is inevitable.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>#5:</b> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_709510293">Oral B E</a></b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><a href="http://Oral B Electric toothbrush" target="_blank">lectric toothbrush</a></b></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Optima;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Nv_5ZNqcSy4HLEjQEnTLLDu6PAJXoD5dns54P9iE2I_6XdTXHiBRJXIjbqxXJcf8C3AETCk5ZZog-tkenln5ECQYD1y0gUGQ-U8gp6cdmokVTNps-Xx0oVR0MdNJUxgvukJoel7SA6YO/s1600/toothbrush.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Nv_5ZNqcSy4HLEjQEnTLLDu6PAJXoD5dns54P9iE2I_6XdTXHiBRJXIjbqxXJcf8C3AETCk5ZZog-tkenln5ECQYD1y0gUGQ-U8gp6cdmokVTNps-Xx0oVR0MdNJUxgvukJoel7SA6YO/s400/toothbrush.jpg" width="238" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A battery powered toothbrush? Seriously? </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You bet. </span></div></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I used to think this was quite an indulgence...at least until I stayed in a dorm recently with a Dutch couple who had "his and hers" ultra-sonic toothbrushes with plug in chargers and matching carrying cases. Now THAT's some serious oral hygiene.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I've heard you're supposed to brush your teeth for two minutes. That's about as much time as it takes to sing all 6 stanzas of "Amazing Grace." I'm lucky if I make through a rushed version of "Happy Birthday" before I spit in the sink and call it a day. But what I lack in quality I make up for in quantity. So I brush several times a day.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At age 53 I still don’t like to brush or floss my teeth, so an electric toothbrush makes that chore a little more palatable.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>#6: </b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><a href="http://www.macksearplugs.com/products" target="_blank">Mack’s Earplugs</a></b></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnEi02zh2lgRfqjXfyIaPIE5cPoxOTpX6-hT5d8ypQQpxSu5F4piPF1J4HM0pgtPJ9tzhSa5XxrROjBZyDLrel6iPM7tWSPCKWMmDy0D1Et3Und62gS3dV7rUj2xG9ChuagOOk-vJRNO53/s1600/ear+plugs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnEi02zh2lgRfqjXfyIaPIE5cPoxOTpX6-hT5d8ypQQpxSu5F4piPF1J4HM0pgtPJ9tzhSa5XxrROjBZyDLrel6iPM7tWSPCKWMmDy0D1Et3Und62gS3dV7rUj2xG9ChuagOOk-vJRNO53/s400/ear+plugs.jpg" width="302" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Wherever I lay my head, or whenever I fly, I can absolutely guarantee you that one of the following will begin within 30 seconds:</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">• A dog howling</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">• A cat fight</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">• A rooster sounding the alarm...at 3 a.m.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">• A circular saw</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">• A pile driver</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">• A jack hammer</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">• A sledge hammer</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">• A baby screaming</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">• A woman screaming</span><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>#7: <a href="http://www.dpreview.com/news/2010/9/14/canong12" target="_blank">Canon G12 Compact Camera</a></b></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvOKAn3CQOgaJ0H2Oo6qSQUTHd63fOvRn3gXkjZTI1pz_ixR6IEtOGxFEc-w4zAHEaHZ6sfzrX9-DImATJA1W4OJuhXdmhZyXJLwtzwayuGblAbHI3tCbyZCdZ6L43dOO0nd7-DNoY4vep/s1600/g12-canon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvOKAn3CQOgaJ0H2Oo6qSQUTHd63fOvRn3gXkjZTI1pz_ixR6IEtOGxFEc-w4zAHEaHZ6sfzrX9-DImATJA1W4OJuhXdmhZyXJLwtzwayuGblAbHI3tCbyZCdZ6L43dOO0nd7-DNoY4vep/s400/g12-canon.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The question I'm asked most frequently is "What kind of camera do you use?" The answer is the Canon PowerShot G12.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><b><br /></b></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When I first started my trip I had two digital SLR bodies, 3 lenses, an external flash, a monopod, an underwater housing and an underwater flash. After three months, I got tired of lugging all that stuff around, and I found that for the vast majority of situations, I was using my compact camera. </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's small enough to fit in my pocket so I can carry it all times, which means I'm able to capture a lot more of those "fleeting moments" than I would if I were fumbling to get my SLR out of the bag and find the right lens. Not to mention the fact that I'm a lot less conspicuous, making me less of a target for theft</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I always ask someone if I can take their photo, unless they're far enough away that they won't be recognizable, and if they still decline after a few polite attempts to persuade them, I don't try to "sneak" a photo. During my travels I've had a few people try to take photos of me without asking, and it's a really creepy feeling. </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The great thing about the internet and digital photography is that if someone has an email address, it's a simple matter to send the photos to them. But please don't promise to do that if you're not going to follow through. It gives the rest of us a bad name.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’m on my 4</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><sup>th</sup></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Canon G12 because I keep dropping them, losing them and scratching them. I've learned my lesson and I now keep mine on a lanyard that I made from heavy duty nylon rope that I keep clipped to my belt when not in use. I also keep the strap around my wrist when using the camera, not only to avoid dropping it, but to minimize the risk of someone snatching it out of my hand and making a dash for it. Unless you've actually won a medal for sprinting, and have some advanced qualification in martial arts, beware if a stranger approaches asking if you'd like them to take a photo of you with your own camera. Many an unsuspecting tourist has lost their camera this way.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>#8: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B002MFK7H2?tag=autob04-20&camp=14573&creative=327641&linkCode=as1&creativeASIN=B002MFK7H2&adid=17A8Y3MNYKQPYKANWAC1&&ref-refURL=http%3A%2F%2Fheadlamps-guide.blogspot.com%2F2012%2F01%2Fenergizer-headlight-silver.html" target="_blank">Energizer Headlamp</a></b></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi50zEw56wJ3Wxc5bhoAKOcgaNQ7TVWzux-XHTbkiNJzUGNdCWAH1rdYrMLTAQ7AuKc-4UccKhap6dsbGPzcxyuzkPuh80yRAVnm-EQI7Ic1fTka7MDeKSKIbeQwe-kP1X0F6y1aieLsdl9/s1600/energizer+headlamp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi50zEw56wJ3Wxc5bhoAKOcgaNQ7TVWzux-XHTbkiNJzUGNdCWAH1rdYrMLTAQ7AuKc-4UccKhap6dsbGPzcxyuzkPuh80yRAVnm-EQI7Ic1fTka7MDeKSKIbeQwe-kP1X0F6y1aieLsdl9/s400/energizer+headlamp.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Really handy when walking at night where the sidewalks are uneven, or full of 6 foot deep holes, or where there are no sidewalks. </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Also particularly handy when there's a power failure in the middle of the night. </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I keep mine on the bedside table or in within easy reach it's dark. And by the way, you look like a dork if you wear it during the daytime, so don't forget to take it off when you wake up.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 3.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>#9: <a href="http://www.leatherman.com/product/Juice_Cs4" target="_blank">Leatherman CS4 Multi-Tool</a></b></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGjOt6cj38nAlArpIppcM_0n_i59CeouINnbgE8NjCFWo0uZjzhih3M7NT5GCYVtRmi2ZiqQZLUlXHAtoK1IDAhmMlrBvq-lp0CwKRDZaGgMilKHXhHbh3DRhrEuKe8_Vd_wVP7KpLUYPN/s1600/leatherman+cs4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGjOt6cj38nAlArpIppcM_0n_i59CeouINnbgE8NjCFWo0uZjzhih3M7NT5GCYVtRmi2ZiqQZLUlXHAtoK1IDAhmMlrBvq-lp0CwKRDZaGgMilKHXhHbh3DRhrEuKe8_Vd_wVP7KpLUYPN/s400/leatherman+cs4.jpg" width="258" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A bit on the heavy side, but handy to have. It has every tool from a saw to a Phillips head screw driver to an awl for punching holes in leather, should you need to tighten your belt. </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Within the past week I’ve used the corkscrew for medicinal purposes, the pliers to adjust the settings on an air-conditioner that had all the knobs broken off (classy place), the beer opener (some people refer to this as a “bottle opener”), the scissors for opening a pesky package on a bar of soap, and the knife blade for spreading peanut butter. </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But I always have to remember to put it in my checked luggage when I'm on my way to the airport. I missed a flight once because I got nabbed by security for having it in my carry-on, and it's too expensive to throw away.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>#10: <a href="http://www.sks-bottle.com/" target="_blank">Screw-top Bottles</a></b></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjihpqLJo90ISoMxrI4UV35vE4V5wVj39pvGvLld6cHkga4Fpzrg8eHa6mHMRV8KPxHm9tshn6bdGATcH8ELqY2ANqu3I9NWRhV7VmKAuOOQTHtkZ5OGlPsnAZAw5ZADUeyNnj4kPPr25Pm/s1600/screwtop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjihpqLJo90ISoMxrI4UV35vE4V5wVj39pvGvLld6cHkga4Fpzrg8eHa6mHMRV8KPxHm9tshn6bdGATcH8ELqY2ANqu3I9NWRhV7VmKAuOOQTHtkZ5OGlPsnAZAw5ZADUeyNnj4kPPr25Pm/s400/screwtop.jpg" width="216" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">These are ideal for shampoo, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">sunscreen, vodka, vitamins, ibuprofen etc.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We've all had the experience of arriving at our destination, opening our toilet kit and finding a gooey mess because something has exploded all over everything. I don't know why product manufacturers package ANYTHING intended for travel in a container that doesn't have a screw-on lid.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The other option is to pack everything in plastic bags, but when your bottles leak, and they will, you still have to rinse out the bag, wait for it to dry, or find a new one. When you're on the move as much as I am, that's just no fun.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There's only thing that's really missing from my travel accoutrements and that is a quiver of...</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><a href="http://scienceblogs.com/zooillogix/2008/01/martial_zoo_law.php" target="_blank">Blow darts</a></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTI7NXsJw8wJb6sZaPW1Qoqqx_g9wJZuG90N7rIcAdrpGJaH6YzvQ_vbU_Et3aGbXqfMLFvzrF_oKYoWMcol_esq-UeB0-Li1XqGj9d3CiM0z9y1bwVm20p7IPVeBALm4kezzjaFYANLJZ/s1600/blow+dart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTI7NXsJw8wJb6sZaPW1Qoqqx_g9wJZuG90N7rIcAdrpGJaH6YzvQ_vbU_Et3aGbXqfMLFvzrF_oKYoWMcol_esq-UeB0-Li1XqGj9d3CiM0z9y1bwVm20p7IPVeBALm4kezzjaFYANLJZ/s400/blow+dart.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ideally, these would each be filled</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">with a different dose of extra strength horse tranquilizer...</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">starting with </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">just a f</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">ew </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">drops for screaming children sitting near me on airplanes, departure lounges and in restaurants. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A slightly larger dose would quiet the barking dog next door. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And an adult dose to restore the peace and quiet that has been disrupted by the guy who insists on hammering before 7 a.m.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Footnote: I just realized that 6 of my 10 items require batteries...and one of them IS a battery! When there's no way to charge them, they become very expensive paper weights...with the exception of the toothbrush, which can still be used as a weapon or a jaunty fashion accessory. </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What would Robinson Crusoe say...if he had access to email or a cell phone?</span></div>John Langfordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16483420812373520287noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8826582124674134220.post-24932379156466764912012-05-07T01:18:00.000-05:002013-09-10T07:53:01.520-05:00"Writing = Freedom" by Matt Fangman<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>I met Matt Fangman several years ago when I showed my photography portfolio at his design firm. A few years later we were on the same team in a scavenger hunt on a Saturday afternoon. I always knew Matt was a smart, talented, likable guy, but aside from bumping into him occasionally at advertising functions, we didn't hang out or socialize together.</i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Flash forward to the present and through the magic of email and facebook, Matt and I have developed a friendship that really means a lot to me. He and I were chatting recently about our mutual enjoyment of writing, and we decided to each have the other guy "guest host" his blog. </i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>It turns out Matt's not just a smart, talented, likable guy...he's also a great writer with a sharp wit, an acerbic sense of humor and an insightful view of the world. Enjoy!</i></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"></span><br /><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqfwIjjvvQIDbHLHm96g0Phsfrh8BHFRo-4jnTCZ4iAnbCiO-cAsccjSoj6PujhgQFqx3v2fWA4oXxQcyzlSapWSJSJUhNqJPMaZuvhxhnEKc9GDgxbRZeSL8xrXfMYMWgbwBhcEusVoC6/s1600/writing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqfwIjjvvQIDbHLHm96g0Phsfrh8BHFRo-4jnTCZ4iAnbCiO-cAsccjSoj6PujhgQFqx3v2fWA4oXxQcyzlSapWSJSJUhNqJPMaZuvhxhnEKc9GDgxbRZeSL8xrXfMYMWgbwBhcEusVoC6/s320/writing.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Writing = Freedom.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This is the truth for me. I don't think this statement is for everyone. You have to figure out for yourself what your first word is—and then you start to become more free. I've come to the conclusion that I have to write. Daily. I have to commit the time to it. I have to put it out there and connect. At some point it may make me money. At some point it may make me friends. But, if neither happens, it will still have been worth it.<br /><br />We are in the midst of the most fascinating communication explosion in human history. Never before has the ability for one person to directly connect to another been so easy. Meaningful connection, however, is never easy.<br /><br />Meaningful connection is why I write. I write to clarify my thoughts. I write to satiate the creative impulse. I write to connect. It's painful. Frustrating. Rewarding. Lonely and loving at the same time. I'm not always sure if I'm doing it right and I'm making it up as I go along. It's a journey.<br /><br />The weird thing is that it's a very new journey for me. I've only been writing on my blog for a year. I am and have always considered myself a visual communicator. Initially trained as an artist. Developed professionally as a designer. Eventually became a businessman on top of it. Somewhere along the way, I shifted. The muse changed. Or maybe I did.<br /><br />I talk about this sometimes on my blog, not to draw attention to myself for approval (yay! Look at me! I'm an awesome self-actualized artist! This is cheaper than therapy!) but to communicate openly about the process of creation, why it's important, and to give encouragement to others to do the same. I think sometimes people need permission to create.<br /><br />This journey has allowed me to continue to develop my own voice. Something that has been sorely underutilized. I bet you have a voice too. Have you practiced it? Do you let it sing? Or is it hidden away? Not quite a fit for your job. Not quite a fit for friends. Not quite a fit for your daily life. If this is you, then you are missing out. You don't need to be perfect. You don't need to be great. You just need to be. That is why I write.<br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Writing makes me free.</span><br /><br /><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You can read more of Matt's writing at <a href="http://www.fangmarks.com/">www.fangmarks.com</a></span></i></div>John Langfordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16483420812373520287noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8826582124674134220.post-50063694019848641072012-05-07T01:06:00.000-05:002013-09-10T07:53:01.540-05:00Writing About Writing About Writing<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf9n2UxLBnPmgtIXen-2XfHIaDVVqieJY1R6eJG_uBEsu7N-juUSyVfoBqcIWIHtbhoYu8mpVtF3HVCxkRWBpSPk-lIv13icQ3OQ4QRFZz8Zmjl2bMnC7C3u-uFE9ZeHpXdeztPLj-PPsg/s1600/panama+city+graffiti_5155.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf9n2UxLBnPmgtIXen-2XfHIaDVVqieJY1R6eJG_uBEsu7N-juUSyVfoBqcIWIHtbhoYu8mpVtF3HVCxkRWBpSPk-lIv13icQ3OQ4QRFZz8Zmjl2bMnC7C3u-uFE9ZeHpXdeztPLj-PPsg/s400/panama+city+graffiti_5155.jpg" width="363" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I fell in love for the first time when I was 17. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">She’s happily married now and lives in London, but we still exchange e-mails a few times each year and catch up on each other’s lives. I’ve been in love a few times since then, but my longest relationship is with photography, my constant companion for more than 25 years. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I feel so fortunate to have spent a quarter of a century being paid to do something I love. And now that I’m not doing photography for a living and just doing it for fun, I feel more creative than I ever have. No rules or regulations or art director standing over my shoulder wanting me to shoot it six different ways.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">But this is supposed to be a blog about writing. I know nothing about writing except that it feels good. I love it. Just like I love mowing the lawn or washing a sink full of dirty dishes...there’s a real feeling of accomplishment when I look at what I’ve done. Although with mowing the lawn or doing the dishes, you know when you’re finished. Writing is never completed, just abandoned.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">When I was In the eleventh grade, there was a girl in my English class named Georgia Hodges. She had thick blonde hair and straight white teeth and a dazzling smile, as well as other moving parts that a 16 year old boy couldn’t help but notice. I sat right behind her, but she didn’t know I existed. One day I glanced over at desk of the guy sitting next to me in class and saw that he had written the words “You’re my blue sky, you’re my sunny day” in his notebook.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">After class, I saw him talking to Georgia as he handed her the folded up piece of paper. It wasn’t until years later that I found out that those are the lyrics to an Allman Brothers song. I don’t know if Georgia knew either, but she sure was smiling that beautiful smile of hers. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I’ve kept a journal for years. When I got rid of all of my possessions a year and a half ago, I found a box containing about 40 notebooks that I had accumulated over the years. I painstakingly scanned or photographed every single page so that I can keep them on my computer. Clearly I get something out of writing.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Why am I telling you all this? Because of the joy I’ve received from writing this blog. Having spent most of my adult life as in a creative profession, it’s such a wonderful surprise to discover a new outlet for my creativity, and one that exercises a completely different set of muscles. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">I’ve found that it brings me as much pleasure as photography, and unlike the latter, doesn’t require any particular lighting or special equipment. What it does have in common with photography is the need to focus, to pay attention to detail and to have a clear subject in mind. And to get rid of anything distracting that dilutes or diminishes it.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">Because writing a blog is still relatively new to me, I’m not bound by all the rules and experience that a seasoned writer is. As an expert photographer, I found that often times I would rule out certain possibilities because, based on my experience, I was certain they wouldn’t work.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">But sometimes, because I’d run out of solutions or because an inexperience assistant suggest a naïve approach, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">I’d try it anyway </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">and find to my astonishment that something I was absolutely positive wouldn’t work, did.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">That’s where I am as a writer. A beginner. I don’t know enough to know what writers aren’t supposed to do, so all possibilities are open to me. I’m beginning to develop a sense of style. And as was the case when I started taking photographs, I’m doing it for fun…for self-expression…for me.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">And just like my ongoing trip around the world that has taken me through 24 countries in the past 20 months, writing is a journey with twists and turns and often unexpected destinations. I can’t wait to see where I wind up!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial;">“In the beginner’s mind there are many possibilities, but in the expert’s there are few.” ::<b> Zen Master Shunryo Suzuki<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>John Langfordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16483420812373520287noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8826582124674134220.post-64846739014949102522012-05-02T00:23:00.000-05:002013-09-10T07:53:01.555-05:00Ten Types of Terrible Travelers<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiExHPOeC6u-FrFDPonmBT9S4PNpyQdajBHFFZ1JlK5-fhyS07TfydN7Hj5A_oKqZHcyoNAZcNp1Qz95tPzS_50AAxhACxV6S6fv_P4UZw6KbkPeQ5cqFRJtTT03MbpkuL29kYapv6So2NL/s1600/travelers+foot_0478.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiExHPOeC6u-FrFDPonmBT9S4PNpyQdajBHFFZ1JlK5-fhyS07TfydN7Hj5A_oKqZHcyoNAZcNp1Qz95tPzS_50AAxhACxV6S6fv_P4UZw6KbkPeQ5cqFRJtTT03MbpkuL29kYapv6So2NL/s640/travelers+foot_0478.jpg" width="489" /></a></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">Having been on the road continuously for more than a year and a half now, I have identified, and can speak with some authority regarding the 10 different classifications of annoying travelers.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">1. Mr. Angry Businessman:</span></b><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">This is the guy who, if his flight is delayed for some sort of insignificant reason like a blizzard or one of the aircraft‘s engines needs maintenance, becomes highly indignant and berates the airline staff in a loud voice….as if they had the power to control the weather or should tell the mechanic who’s working on something that might keep us aloft to hurry up.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Mr. Angry Businessman is a legend in his own mind. He talks loudly on his cell phone while waiting for the flight to board, and continues to do so even after the flight attendant has asked him 3 times to turn it off. The minute the flight lands, he’s at it again, making calls and taking calls while opening the overhead bin despite the flight attendant’s frantic gestures for him to wait for the plane to stop rolling. Then he makes a mad dash to the front of the plane, clambering over little old ladies and mothers with children so he can make it to that all-important meeting. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">2. The Hair People:<o:p></o:p></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">a. The White Chick With Corn Rows</span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;">. This look is favored among women who go on vacation for a week and get their hair braided and beaded on the beach for $5.00. They are usually seen wearing tube tops and sporting tattoos of a dolphin or a rose on their right shoulder. Their skin is the color of a lobster because of their efforts to get a dark tan in the 3 days that it wasn't raining and the hairstyle which will enable them to return home looking exotic. Trust me…this is not a good look for anyone over the age of 12. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Braided/beaded hair only looked good one time in the history of the universe and it was on Bo Derek in the movie “10” which came out in 1979. And nobody was looking at her hair. It hasn’t looked good on anybody since. Especially if you’re white. Even Stevie Wonder would shave his head if he could see how bad his hair looks.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">b. White People With Dreadlocks</span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Or as a fellow I sat next to on a plane called them, “credlocks”…short for “credibility”. This affectation signifies to everyone that you’ve been on the road long enough that you’re a full time vagabond, that you don’t work for “the man”, and that you’re “alternative”. This look is usually accompanied by multiple tribal tattoos, facial piercings and constant fidgeting with and re-arranging one’s nasty hair. After all, if your “do” looks like a dirty mop that that’s been left out in the sun to dry, it’s gotta be in perfect disarray.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Only problem is, travelers with dreadlocks are so ubiquitous that they conform with other full time gypsies wearing dreadlocks. Face it, no matter how much ganja you smoke or Bob Marley music you listen to, you’ll never be as cool as he was. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">3. The Native</span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">This is the traveler who adopts the wardrobe of whatever country they’re in. The white woman in the flowing sari with a red bindi on her forehead or the guy with the scruffy beard, white flowing shirt and pants and sandals. Here’s a message to anyone wearing the baggy 100% cotton trousers with the crotch down to your knees purchased at some point during your travels through India. When they can stand up by themselves, it's time to consider a wardrobe change. Besides, M.C. Hammer called and he wants his pants back. So he can burn them.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">4. The Shopper</span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">This the woman who, in spite of all signs, ordinances and regulations to the contrary, somehow manages to board the plane with a massive rolling suitcase the size of a chest of drawers, which is too heavy for her to lift and won’t fit in the overhead bin, plus three paper shopping bags which are tearing from their handles from the sheer weight of their contents. In addition, she’s carrying a hand bag large enough to transport an anvil, and she’s already checked 2 steamer trunks, as well as yapping terrier in one of those pet containers. Oh…and she’s wearing a straw hat the diameter of a satellite dish.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">5. Stumbling Through LIfe</span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">This demographic is made up of the the self-obsessed, narcissistic, self-absorbed, constantly text-messaging, while listening to music on their iPods, while simultaneously updating their facebook status, while lighting a cigarette crowd in the 18-22 range who are generally drunk, high, hungover, belligerent , clueless or all of the above. They stay up 'til 5 a.m. partying so that nobody else can get any shut-eye, and then sleep like babies on the plane or train or ox cart you're sharing with them.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">There’s always one guy in the group with one or more extremities in a cast or wearing a dirty, blood-stained bandage because he fell off the back of moving vehicle, and a girl who’s got a nasty burn on the inside of her calf where it touched the red hot exhaust pipe of the scooter she rented. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Looking through the bottom of a glass is certainly one way to see the world, but if I go one more night without sleep I might just strangle you during yours. No jury would convict me.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">6. Mr. and Mrs. Go Back Home</span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">and Their Annoying Children</b>.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">These folks live to terrorize the inhabitants of whichever country they are traveling in. They chastise and berate local people because the service or food or towels or the water temperature aren’t what they are accustomed to “back home”. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Here’s a suggestion: Ask nicely, preceded by the word “please” and followed by “thank you”, with those 2 phrases spoken in their language. If you still don’t receive what you’d prefer, adjust your expectations, or take your business elsewhere, or go back to wherever it is you came from.<o:p></o:p></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">Their kids are sullen or hyper-active and squeal with a frequency and pitch that even dogs cannot tolerate. These rug rats are the best form of birth control I think of. Five minutes in their presence will make you seriously rethink the prospect of having any offspring and even consider reporting the children to the local authorities.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">7. Loud Obnoxious Americans</span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The stereotype is true I’m afraid. Americans abroad speak at 5 times the volume of everyone else, typically only speak English as opposed to their European, Asian and African counterparts, and think the entire universe revolves around the United States. </span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">Often seen wearing a baseball cap backwards (which has been scientifically proven to lower your I.Q. by at least 17 points) as well as a jersey from some sort of professional sports team. Opinionated, overbearing and uninformed though they might be, you can’t accuse most Americans of being unfriendly. Which most Europeans find obnoxious as well.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">8. Been There Done That<o:p></o:p></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">These are the travelers who are constantly dropping the names of all the exotic and far-flung countries they’ve “done”. As in “Yeah, in April we did Mongolia and before that we did Zimbabwe and Suriname and Uzbekistan." <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">They’re jaded and cooler-than-thou and so busy rattling off all their destinations and everything they “did” while they were there, that they’re missing whatever’s happening right now.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">9.</span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Beautiful But Bitchy</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">These are the "Trust"afarians who are roughing it for a few months on Daddy's credit card until they return to their posh lifestyle of tea and scones and polo matches. They are only seen traveling in pairs or packs or accompanied by devastatingly handsome dangerous looking guys who ride motorcycles. They wear jaunty fedoras and have Chinese characters tattooed on the backs of their necks so they can be hidden under their long tresses when they attend a royal wedding. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">They seem to have a limitless supply of short shorts, sexy sundresses and stiletto heels that just happen to be in their backpack. They are unbelievably snooty and no matter how hard I try they won’t speak to me.</span><br /><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><b>10. The French</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">With all due respect and my sincere apologies to the five lovely French people I’ve met at various points along the way (you know who you are)...in general, French travelers are pretty hard to like. They won’t make eye-contact or introduce themselves, even when you’re sitting next to them on a 12 hour bus ride. Seriously?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">If they could figure out a way to smoke an entire pack of cigarettes all at once, they would. They refuse to acknowledge you or anything you say in English, and if you attempt to speak to them in French, even if you’re asking them to throw you a life preserver or perform the Heimlich maneuver (which is a French word incidentally) what you’ll get instead is a reprimand for mispronouncing "maneuver".</span></div>John Langfordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16483420812373520287noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8826582124674134220.post-72553753166601623302012-04-15T19:55:00.000-05:002013-09-10T07:53:01.568-05:00My Baggage<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Santa Cruz Island, Galapagos:</b></span><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Today this guy shoved past me so he could get his bag in the luggage compartment of the bus before I did. Space was running out, and he wanted to make sure he got there first. I caught the eye of a woman standing nearby and her facial expression was one of disbelief at such a blatant display of rudeness.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">But then I sat behind him and his family on the way to the airport and was able to change my feelings towards him when I saw him lovingly kissing his baby daughter with her big dark eyes like a Japanese anime cartoon and her pierced ears and a ribbon in her short hair. She smiled over her dad's shoulder at me as I waved at her and made funny faces. When we got up to disembark, her dad took her arm and waved goodbye to me.</span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">And then I missed my flight, due to my own stupidity and inattention. I stopped to talk to a couple I had met a few days earlier on a scuba diving trip and when I looked up, the stairs had been pulled away from the aircraft and no amount of begging or pleading was going to get me on that plane.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">I got back on the bus, and wouldn't you know it, the only empty seat was next to that same knuckle-head. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">But instead of sliding over to the window seat so I didn't have to climb over him with my carry on bag, he just sat there, barricading the only seat on the bus. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">I asked him with all the politeness I could muster to move over and he heaved a heavy, disgruntled sigh as he reluctantly moved 18 inches to his left.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDpisfdlZ6eJpEaXAI4N5_K1AAa69S6X97jfWjabdpvbeWyZ2I-b1S7w-W1ef54VgXN5o7gKdIl9v3tnPgOQkX8p2wKh7ye6HZi89e-xKOE3xZBa-JKTYDSlbdztrx7XC6q9AQJoRr4iA8/s1600/emotional+baggage_7982.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDpisfdlZ6eJpEaXAI4N5_K1AAa69S6X97jfWjabdpvbeWyZ2I-b1S7w-W1ef54VgXN5o7gKdIl9v3tnPgOQkX8p2wKh7ye6HZi89e-xKOE3xZBa-JKTYDSlbdztrx7XC6q9AQJoRr4iA8/s400/emotional+baggage_7982.jpg" width="300" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">Just then a woman boarded the bus with a bunch of boxes and was standing in the aisle next to me,</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">so I got up and offered her my seat which accomplished two things...one was that she was able to sit down and the other was that I was able to get away from my nemesis, since I was already full of bile at having missed my flight.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">In retrospect I was able to generate some warm feelings towards him since he had to say goodbye to his wife and daughter today...who knows for how long....but sometimes I wish my internal reactions weren't so negative and so strong. </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">Meanwhile, my baggage is going round and round on the carousel in Guayaquil, Ecuador. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">And there are much worse places to be stuck for an extra night than the Galapagos Islands.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><b><br /></b></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><b><br /></b></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><b><br /></b></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><b><br /></b></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><b>Footnote: </b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On the ferry this morning on the way back to the airport I witnessed some appalling behavior from a guy who refused to move over to allow more passengers to sit on the bench beside him. Everyone on board was rolling their eyes, as he argued with the captain in a loud American accent, further cementing U.S. foreign relations. As if the members of the security detail who came to South America to guard President Obama getting caught with hookers in their rooms earlier this week wasn't enough. </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When we reached the other side, he leapt from his seat and said "GO, GO, GO!" to his travel companion, barging through the crowd so he could get the first seat on the bus. Whatever compassion I felt yesterday was gone. I wanted to head butt him.</span></div>John Langfordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16483420812373520287noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8826582124674134220.post-81327933957514211422012-04-14T08:38:00.000-05:002013-09-16T09:08:02.991-05:00A Good Night's Sleep<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Puerto Ayora, Galapagos Islands:</b></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here's a one minute excerpt, recorded at 1:30 in the morning, of the soothing soundscape outside my window last night. It went on, uninterrupted, until morning.</span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="ab-player" data-boourl="http://audioboo.fm/boos/759167-a-good-night-s-sleep/embed">
<a href="http://audioboo.fm/boos/759167-a-good-night-s-sleep">listen to ‘A Good Night's Sleep’ on Audioboo</a></div>
<script type="text/javascript">(function() { var po = document.createElement("script"); po.type = "text/javascript"; po.async = true; po.src = "http://d15mj6e6qmt1na.cloudfront.net/assets/embed.js"; var s = document.getElementsByTagName("script")[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(po, s); })();</script>John Langfordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16483420812373520287noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8826582124674134220.post-4263790110585794832012-04-03T09:02:00.000-05:002013-09-10T07:53:01.618-05:00The Breakfast of Champions<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I feel like I'm caught in a swirling vortex of bad luck.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I arrived in Santiago around 10 p.m. and took a $30.00 cab ride from the airport to discover that the hostel I've booked online has received my reservation but has no rooms available. To quote Jerry Seinfeld “That kinda defeats the whole purpose of a reservation!” Not only that, but there are several thousand people in town for a marathon tomorrow, as well as a weekend long music festival. There’s not a room to be had between here and Valparaiso.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The desk clerk, who’s wearing glasses with one ear piece missing, is shuffling through a huge stack of papers, all of which appear to be “reservations”. I’m not sure how many other weary travelers he’s had to deliver the bad news to, but I knew there was no point in getting bent out of shape. What I need is a place to lie down. Pronto.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I ask if I can use the free wifi, and he reluctantly gives me the password, as if I'm asking for the combination to the safe, but in keeping with the rest of this increasingly ridiculous situation, I can’t get my computer to connect to the internet.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Completely clueless and constantly adjusting his crooked glasses, the guy behind the desk seems stunned when I ask if he can help me find another place to stay. I eventually get him to make a phone call to one of the hotels on the list I can see pinned to the wall next to his elbow, and when he hangs up the phone, he’s confirmed that they have a vacancy, but he’s neglected to ask the price or the address, and can’t remember which number he just called.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, he calls again, and on the third try gets the right place, asks for the rate, the address and the name. When I ask him for a map, he can’t locate the hotel where we are OR the other hotel. He also has no idea how much a cab will cost to get to my new accommodation. I don’t know this guy puts his pants on or finds his way to work! Maybe he was born here and has never left the premises.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Meanwhile a guy on crutches who has been silently observing my exercise in futility announces that a cab driver will almost certainly rip me off at this time of night since I’m carrying a big bag and am obviously a traveler. I feel like a tiny, rusty, bent cog in a massive, malfunctioning machine!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I go to the hotel next door…no rooms. Meanwhile another guy shows up who has just flown in from Buenos Aires and, not surprisingly, he is given the same warm welcome I‘ve just received. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I decide to intervene and tell him he’s welcome to share a cab with me. The guy behind the desk has his first good idea of the night and calls a cab, gives them the address where we are and where we’re going and asks how much it’ll cost to come pick us up and take us there. $4 each. Fantastic! So off we go to find Hotel Nova (ironically, but not surprisingly, "no va" means “no go” in Spanish…perfecto!)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When Andrew and I arrive at the address we’ve been given, we’re in the middle of a dark street, and all we can see is a pitch black hallway with an iron gate. Immediately next door is a massive red neon sign with 6 foot tall letters generically announcing “HOTEL”. Thinking we’ve been given the wrong address, I go next door to check and there‘s a speaker with a “call” button, but when I press it I receive only dead silence in response. This is starting to feel like a David Lynch movie.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So I go back to where our cab driver is clearly eager to be on his way, ring the bell, and a dark-skinned woman emerges from the even darker darkness of the hallway. When I ask "Is this Hotel Nova?”, she replies “No”. At this point I'm thinking this is a private residence and we’ve woken her up. Out of desperation I decide to ask her if she has any rooms and she says “Yes”. Why not just say “Yes this is a hotel…are you the one who called earlier?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So she opens the gate and leads us down a loooong hallway which is darker than a coal mine. We turn a corner and feel our way along the wall down another hallway where she shows us two rooms, right across from each other. They are much nicer than I expected, given the ambience of this cavernous building which makes </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">the motel in the movie “Psycho” look like Little House on the Prairie. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My door has two room numbers, 13 and 14, one above the other, and Andrew's has the same two numbers, but in the opposite configuration. I’m not superstitious, but this is getting creepier by the minute. Neither room can be locked from the outside and his can’t be locked from the inside either, but we don’t really have a lot of other options, so we decide to stay.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We follow the woman back to the dimly lit office to pay, and she never asks us for our names or passports. It’s as quiet as a graveyard, and it seems like no other victims...I mean “guests” are staying here, or have ever stayed here. Andrew I agree that we’ll check out first thing in the morning. I can hear the lyrics to the song “Hotel California” playing in my head as the hair stands up on the back of my neck…”You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I thought morning would never arrive. All night long, at what seemed like 15 - 20 minute intervals, a loud electric bell like the kind used to announce the end of class rings right outside my door. And when that isn’t happening, I can hear our “hostess” having a loud conversation with somebody on what sounded like a walkie-talkie. Every so often, she gets up to go let somebody in…. I used to work the night shift at a funeral home and we did a pretty brisk business most nights…but not like this place!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Andrew and I are out the door by 9 a.m. He’s got a reservation at another hostel and I decide to accompany him on the off chance that they’ve got an extra room. It’s several blocks away, but there don’t seem to be any cabs around, so we decide to hoof it.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Twenty minutes later, huffing and pufffing and sweating profusely, we discover that we have to cross the route of the marathon which is </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">jam-packed with runners.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> It's like a real life version of Super Mario Brothers, so when a small opening appears on our side of the street, we make a dash for it…each of us carrying two heavy bags. Unfortunately the gap quickly closes and we’re bashing into marathoners left, right and center...as if running 26.2 miles isn’t hard enough without tripping over a couple of knuckleheads. Andrew and I aren’t making a lot of friends in Santiago.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When we get to the new hostel, of course they have no extra rooms. So I borrow their phone, call the original place where I was supposed to stay last night to see if they still have my reservation for tonight. They do. I leave my bag there and go in search of some much needed coffee and sustenance, but am unable to find any place open at 10 a.m. on a Sunday morning, so I go back, grab my stuff and set off on the next leg of my ordeal.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It suddenly dawns on me that today it's April 1<sup>st</sup>….April Fool’s Day. That explains everything! And I have no idea how to get back to my destination. I arrived there at night via taxi through what seemed like a maze of winding streets. I left there by taxi while engaged in conversation with Andrew, taking a circuitous route to Hotel Nova, and now I'm completely turned around. My map is completely useless, because neither of those place are on it!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I start heading south…passing through the Red Sea of marathon again. I'm hoping to catch a cab, but somehow wind up on a dead end street. I make it to back to the main thoroughfare, but because of the marathon there are no cabs. I keep walking, and finally see a gas station where a taxi is refueling, so I wander over and ask the driver if he has any idea where the tiny street I’m trying to find is located. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He tells me to walk 6 blocks west and then turn right, which, suprise...surprise, isn’t quite accurate. Somehow I manage to get there after quite a hike. By now I’m bleeding through my shirt because of a motorcycle accident a few days earlier which left me with 6 stitches in my chin and road rash on my shoulder which is being rubbed raw by the strap of my backpack.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As I’m checking in, they tell me that they have no twin rooms with a shared bath for $20.00, which is what I booked, so instead I’ll be staying in a room with a double bed and a private bath for $50.00! I explain to the lady what I’ve been through, and after placing a phone call to the owner and a lengthy conversation, she agrees to let me have the room for the original price. As I’m being led down a long corridor with high ceilings, large windows and white gauzy curtains blowing in the breeze, I start to think that things are taking a turn for the better. </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My room is lucky number 7. It’s spacious, clean and had a bathroom larger than some apartments I’ve lived in. I open the shutters to discover a lovely courtyard with laundry hanging out to dry, and a small potted flower blooming on the window-sill. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is too good to be true. I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As I'm headed back through the lobby, determined to vacate the premises until they realize it's too late to correct their mistake, I see the guy with crutches from the night before, who'd also been in a motorcycle accident...15 years earlier. But instead of a few stiches and scratches like myself, he'd had his left leg amputated above the knee.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Take a few minutes to listen to his story…I think you’ll find it quite remarkable and inspiring. And it makes my misfortune not even worth mentioning.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/0N2H_1bQGpM" width="480"></iframe>John Langfordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16483420812373520287noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8826582124674134220.post-75356178192722915022012-03-19T01:15:00.000-05:002013-09-10T07:53:01.662-05:00Memo from the Ministry of Fear<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><i>“The traveler’s is but a barren and comfortless condition” wrote Henry David Thoreau, who never traveled alone and whose cabin at Walden was less than a mile and a half from his home in Concord, where his adoring mother waited, baking pies for him and doing his laundry; and throughout the Walden experience he went home most days.” </i></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Excerpt from <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Tao-of-Travel/dp/0141044268/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1332371362&sr=1-2" target="_blank">"<i>The Tao of Travel"</i></a> by Paul Theroux.</span><br /><br /></div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IKQllHMMj44/TWZ21kIt3qI/AAAAAAAABAM/77ycwbgSq4s/s1600/wicked%2Bvan%2Bin%2Bthe%2Bdesert_0462.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="400" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5577275851150319266" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IKQllHMMj44/TWZ21kIt3qI/AAAAAAAABAM/77ycwbgSq4s/s400/wicked%2Bvan%2Bin%2Bthe%2Bdesert_0462.jpg" width="300" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A little over a year and a half ago, I sold everything I owned…my home, my furniture, my car, my clothing, my artwork, my lawn mower...and closed my business of 20 years.</span><br /><div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I said goodbye to everyone and everything that was familiar to me and embarked on a 3 year around-the-world odyssey with no fixed schedule, no definite itinerary and no plan other than to see the places I've always dreamed of, experience each moment as fully as possible and to embrace everything that comes my way as an opportunity to learn and grow.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">As I boarded the plane that would take me halfway around the world, I wondered what I would feel like to be this far down the road. Would I have lost my passport? Would I be tired? Sick? Injured? Lonely? Regretting that I had made such a drastic change in my lifestyle?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The answer to all of the above questions is that at various points throughout my journey I could answer "yes". Except for the last question. I have never regretted for one nanosecond the decision that led me to this point, which at the moment happens to be a pretty crummy hostel in Santiago, Chile.<o:p></o:p></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">When they hear about the journey I’ve undertaken, most people respond by telling me how brave I am.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I’m not.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Crazy maybe...but making this departure from “real life” came quite naturally, and after much thought and planning. It wasn’t done on a whim or in response to a mid-life crisis or precipitated by some devastating event. I’ve been planning to do this my entire life.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The other response I get is “What are you going to do when you’re finished traveling?”</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial;">Variations on this question include “Do you have enough money set aside for retirement?” “How are you going to return to the REAL WORLD?” “Aren’t you worried about finding a job?”. “What about health insurance?” “What inoculations and vaccinations have you taken?” “What about food poisoning?” "What about terrorists?" “Do you have hand sanitizer?”</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I view these responses as a manifestation of fear. Their aversion to risk…to taking a leap off a cliff into the complete unknown. I realize that what I’ve chosen is definitely not for everyone. Selling everything is kinda drastic…it was the only way I could think of to finance this life-long dream. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Even if they don't want to forsake all their earthly possessions, and wander the earth barefooted with nothing but a canvas satchel and a wooden flute, everyone's got something they wanna go after. And most folks have lots of excuses for not chasing their dreams, including some that sound really legitimate and plausible.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">"I don't have enough money." "I'd have to quit my job and go back to school." "I have a wife and kids and a mortgage and college tuition to think about." "I'm not smart enough. Or talented enough. Or good looking enough". "I'll get started on that the day after tomorrow." "Let me just finish typing this email". <o:p></o:p></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">"I'm too busy/tired/fill in the blank." </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Which is not to say that I don’t experience plenty of fear. I've used all of the excuses above and then some. Sometimes I’m courageous and I step through the fear. And often I don’t.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhamEaEIhvfYk244oQgeamE64-neorZCLDvHNJH56C0J3cU68wfjNB9mMd9KWy7VDDiQDSvtVQ8Ds3JAAQu-dbd5wHryN6x6okQDhecEo5CoY-9Ciljnd255S3BYGrvzSSXrrlZqZ4upRgo/s1600/climbing+byron.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhamEaEIhvfYk244oQgeamE64-neorZCLDvHNJH56C0J3cU68wfjNB9mMd9KWy7VDDiQDSvtVQ8Ds3JAAQu-dbd5wHryN6x6okQDhecEo5CoY-9Ciljnd255S3BYGrvzSSXrrlZqZ4upRgo/s400/climbing+byron.jpg" width="307" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial;">Making the decision to leave everything behind didn’t cause me any undue concern. Getting rid of all my stuff was a relief really. And saying goodbye to dear friends was sad and tearful, but not fearful.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">But now, facing fear is a daily exercise. It rears its nasty head every time I land in a new city. Did my bag arrive? Twice in the last week it didn’t. And if not, will I be able to locate someone who speaks English to help me find it? The answer is not always yes. </span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">Will I be able to find a place to stay? Last night the hostel I had booked in advance had lost my reservation and had no available rooms when I arrived at midnight. </span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">Will I get ripped off by the cab driver on my way from the airport? This ain't my first rodeo and yet that happened this week. You know you're being taken for a ride, literally and metaphorically, but you're stuck watching the meter roll over like a Las Vegas slot machine...unless you want to get out of the car in the middle of nowhere in the dark and walk.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Fear comes in many forms. </span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">Being constantly immersed in unfamiliarity. Deciding where to go and where to stay and what to do each day. Fear of getting swindled. Or robbed. Or run over by a motorcycle, or dragged down an alley and having my throat slit. These thoughts rarely occupy my mind on a conscious level, but I know from the fatigue that I feel at the end of most days that they're lurking in there somewhere. </span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The truth is there have honestly been only one or two moments when I've felt unsafe. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">Being on a minibus at 1 in the morning on the wrong side of town and hearing everyone muttering the word for "foreigner" in Swahili. And not in a "Welcome aboard!" kind of way. Other than that i</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">t’s really been smooth sailing and I've experienced so much kindness and generosity from total strangers along the way.</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">The biggest struggle is loneliness. Obviously a guy who's lived alone and worked alone for most of his adult life and who's traveling the world by himself enjoys his own company. And I do. There’s a lot to be said for solitude, and I'm absolutely positive that the most memorable adventures I’ve had on this trip are the result of traveling alone because I'm more receptive and flexible and approachable by others. But at other times the solitude is overwhelming.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The great thing about fear is that it propels me to try new things that terrify me...if for no other reason than to have the experience, or learn what my limits are, or at the very least, have a story to tell.</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOSHb5iHikXQzQCfdXiThpNYzP8aoaavXw8Z3Ichhax6Bgp6u0FdzMTDRaljE9t6X6ued59q1sZZVJwS03vLYgTDkRvzL51XbuYU9u3wVZbs3uTFTmKUEFy42sHdu4mGvZAYYSSi1dBY-i/s1600/rock+with+hole_3543.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOSHb5iHikXQzQCfdXiThpNYzP8aoaavXw8Z3Ichhax6Bgp6u0FdzMTDRaljE9t6X6ued59q1sZZVJwS03vLYgTDkRvzL51XbuYU9u3wVZbs3uTFTmKUEFy42sHdu4mGvZAYYSSi1dBY-i/s400/rock+with+hole_3543.jpg" width="275" /></a></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Like taking a deep breath, knowing that at the end of an underwater tunnel is a beautiful cathedral-sized chamber filled with air….and wondering whether I’ll make it before I pass out. </span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Or steering a dingy </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">through a majestic rock arch in the middle of the ocean in </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">6 foot swells and a strong head wind knowing there's a good possibility of capsizing and going for a swim in the ice cold water, fully clothed and with all my camera gear.</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">Rappelling down the face of a 150 foot cliff.</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">White water rafting through rapids twice as tall as I am and swimming across a raging river hoping I make it to the opposite shore before getting swept over the falls that are just a few hundred yards downstream.</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">Scuba diving in a current so strong that if I let go of the anchor rope on the way down there would be little chance of finding me before I ran out of air somewhere in the middle of the Indian Ocean.</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJLaLYwhZrx2P_pceSqKvLJyb5iZc1bqaJX5Pt2fcSAifeHepMoB1rP5KihRQbU966RAId2x_rA4KX2b1IVzOVJ_nPAU0Hu8-HX8xORsed3U3aM8pfLE6Bq-Usa3uEd7600N1rybEsgtQf/s1600/toyota_8015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJLaLYwhZrx2P_pceSqKvLJyb5iZc1bqaJX5Pt2fcSAifeHepMoB1rP5KihRQbU966RAId2x_rA4KX2b1IVzOVJ_nPAU0Hu8-HX8xORsed3U3aM8pfLE6Bq-Usa3uEd7600N1rybEsgtQf/s400/toyota_8015.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><div style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div><div style="font-family: Georgia; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">Buying a used car and driving it 3500 miles down the east coast of Australia and finding out it needs new brakes and guzzles a quart of oil every couple of days.</span></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">I sold it for scrap.</span></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">Or embarking on a 2 week trip in a camper van with three complete strangers. We survived a tire blowing out in the middle of the desert miles from the nearest garage, we ate enough peanut butter to cover the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, and most of all that we survived that much "togetherness" and emerged as friends.</span></div></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Optima;"><div style="font-family: Georgia;"></div></div><span style="font-family: Arial;"> </span><br /><div style="font-family: Georgia;"></div></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIio2MH0it2TOjqyDk5L35HlAUqaNG-Gj5bsgX88s10Ud3s173tsWgCpGNvZSFyGh_BQ2MbKmYEiRHg17m-d46DVbySGjpzZBwcOqw9aZYwZkBNTCOltKu7xZX9jl-qmv3CR_pXD3Ok8jw/s1600/bathing+in+the+river_4448.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIio2MH0it2TOjqyDk5L35HlAUqaNG-Gj5bsgX88s10Ud3s173tsWgCpGNvZSFyGh_BQ2MbKmYEiRHg17m-d46DVbySGjpzZBwcOqw9aZYwZkBNTCOltKu7xZX9jl-qmv3CR_pXD3Ok8jw/s400/bathing+in+the+river_4448.jpg" width="400" /></a><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">Arriving in a new country and learning the rules, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">the routine, the culture, the customs is always and adventure. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br /><div style="font-family: Optima; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="font-family: Optima;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">Like sitting cross-legged for hours on end while drinking kava in Fiji because to straighten one's legs to get a brief respite from the agony is considered disrespectful to the village chief.</span></span></div><div style="font-family: Optima;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-family: Optima;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">And I'm pretty sure my waitress at lunch today was trying to politely let me know that nobody in Chile uses toothpicks.</span></div><div style="font-family: Optima; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">.</span></div></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirUtQPzBhPwvJ1N3ACELMjxUqYQ57AkMFyDMdfxYWPZzoPrhRtlv9sdNgsFZssa6QL7GplyuZS58vNOT8EMb16inUOal3YGMAG9lggRbpM_xqM5l1mc_GaLNqNahuqAO33tgAsQA0XcOcK/s1600/air+conditioning_7983.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirUtQPzBhPwvJ1N3ACELMjxUqYQ57AkMFyDMdfxYWPZzoPrhRtlv9sdNgsFZssa6QL7GplyuZS58vNOT8EMb16inUOal3YGMAG9lggRbpM_xqM5l1mc_GaLNqNahuqAO33tgAsQA0XcOcK/s400/air+conditioning_7983.jpg" width="281" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">Or choosing accommodations that don't have the amenities I'd like so that I can stay within my budget.</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">Like water. </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">Or windows. </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">Or a room that doesn't smell like a blend of urine and cigarette smoke and cleaning products.</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">You'd be astounded at how many crowing roosters/barking dogs/construction projects there are going on all over the world at this very moment. And most of them are on the premises of hostels where I've stayed...or right next door. </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">More often, the Boogey Man visits me in more subtle ways, in a variety of clever disguises, morphing into a thousand different forms and planting disconcerting thoughts in my mind that make me feel afraid and small.</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuKVsxaw4jHzO7o4KFi0HlJ2C7GkQFqDjQiT4A4kfdJ40wsAxq5qFodZSasJCZcXpKe6mgAbM8QpyB5-_52FV9On8S3ihdS9BesDxM3bfm4CrYr9EeR4DrL7SYD-RYmM7oGP8Dgf-hYpKL/s1600/green+monster_1460.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuKVsxaw4jHzO7o4KFi0HlJ2C7GkQFqDjQiT4A4kfdJ40wsAxq5qFodZSasJCZcXpKe6mgAbM8QpyB5-_52FV9On8S3ihdS9BesDxM3bfm4CrYr9EeR4DrL7SYD-RYmM7oGP8Dgf-hYpKL/s400/green+monster_1460.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">Most common are the every day, run-of-the-mill fears. </span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia;"></div><div style="font-family: Georgia;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">Having to force myself to go outside and explore yet another strange city when I’m feeling particularly road-weary, or paralyzed because of all the options there are, or for no good reason at all.</span></div></div><div style="font-family: Georgia;"></div><br /><div style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Optima;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">Learning to </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Optima;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">ignore the feeling of being an outsider or </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">sounding foolish when I make an attempt to speak a few words in one of the 17 languages I've encountered in the past year and a half. And that’s not including the dialects of English spoken in Australia and New Zealand. </span></div></div><div style="font-family: Georgia; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">You think I’m joking, but I didn’t know what a capsicum (bell pepper) was…or a “long drop dunny” (outhouse) until I spent some time with the Aussies and the Kiwis. Likewise, I had the hardest time making them understand me when I said the phrase "bottle of water". It was as if I was speaking Swahili. Which was really helpful when I arrived in Kenya.</span></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div><div style="font-family: Optima; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">Fear of walking into yet another restaurant and having everyone in the place turn and gawk at the foreigner like I'm a space alien and watch me like a bug under a microscope while I eat a dish I've ordered that contains not a single ingredient that I recognize by sight, taste or smell. </span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div><div style="font-family: Georgia; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Getting really, really lost is another fear. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">That happens to me A LOT. At all times of the day and night and in all kinds of weather. It’s not that much fun anymore. <o:p></o:p></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">I've really worked on improving my sense of direction, and I rely heavily on maps and the GPS on my iPhone. </span></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">Often it's best if I just go in the opposite direction from what my instinct is telling me. Especially when i discover after wandering around like Moses in the desert that the map given to me by the hostel is printed with south on the LEFT side of the page instead of at the bottom. With no indication that the local cartographers are playing a little geographical prank on unsuspecting travelers. Or parking my rental car in downtown Melbourne and realizing about an hour later that I had ABSOLUTELY no idea how to get back to it. </span></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">Somehow it always works out. And I have no evidence to support the theory that it doesn't.</span></span></div><br /><div style="font-family: Optima;"></div><div style="font-family: Optima; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia;"></div><div style="font-family: Optima;"></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">Before I embarked on my trip, a dear friend printed the following quote on a card which I keep with me always:</span></div></div></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia;"><i><span style="font-family: Arial;">“I will not die an unlived life</span></i><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia;"><i><span style="font-family: Arial;">I will not live in fear of falling or catching fire.</span></i><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia;"><i><span style="font-family: Arial;">I choose to inhabit my days.</span></i><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia;"><i><span style="font-family: Arial;">To allow my living to open me.</span></i><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia;"><i><span style="font-family: Arial;">To make me less afraid.</span></i><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia;"><i><span style="font-family: Arial;">More accessible.</span></i><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia;"><i><span style="font-family: Arial;">To loosen my heart until it becomes</span></i><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia;"><i><span style="font-family: Arial;">A wing, a torch, a promise.</span></i><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia;"><i><span style="font-family: Arial;">I choose to risk my significance;</span></i><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia;"><i><span style="font-family: Arial;">To live so that That which comes to me as seed</span></i><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia;"><i><span style="font-family: Arial;">Goes to the next as blossom</span></i><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia;"><i><span style="font-family: Arial;">And that which comes to me as blossom</span></i><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia;"><i><span style="font-family: Arial;">Goes on as fruit.”</span></i><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><a href="http://www.dawnamarkova.com/"><i><span style="color: #0000f6;">Dawna Markova</span></i></a><o:p></o:p></span></div></div></div>John Langfordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16483420812373520287noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8826582124674134220.post-40341422353969012732012-03-05T13:55:00.000-06:002013-09-10T07:53:01.708-05:00What Goes Around Comes Around<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was having that strange feeling of dé<span class="hsb"></span>jà vu.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was standing in a courtyard surrounded by colorful murals. A couple was chatting quietly at a table nearby. The sun was shining and the intense blue of the January sky was interrupted here and there by fluffy cumulus clouds. The temperature was a perfect 78 degrees.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'd been traveling full time for 16 months and the 19 countries I had visited during that period had all started to blur together. I knew I was in Austin, Texas, but I had the strangest feeling that I was back in Africa. Why do the paintings on these walls look so familiar? And these signs that say “Comfort the Children”….why do they ring a bell?</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Suddenly it dawned on me! Six weeks and five countries ago I had visited the village of Maai Mahiu in The Great Rift Valley in Kenya. On a lark, I had gone there with a friend of a friend whom I had met in Nairobi a few days earlier. Since it was an opportunity to see a part of Kenya I hadn’t been to before, I tagged along for the ride. I wasn't prepared for what was in store for me.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I had the unexpected privilege of spending a day at The Malaika School which was founded and funded by </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.ctcinternational.org/" target="_blank">Comfort The Children.</a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> The school, which is for kids with profound disabilities, provides them an opportunity which would otherwise be unavailable. Ordinarily, In a small village like this, these children would be hidden away by from public view to protect them from the derision and mistreatment they would receive, and so their families could avoid the shame of such a taboo.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There are some places in the world where the sense of dedication and joy are palpable. The Malaika School is one of those. It felt as if the very walls of the building were permeated with the intention of those who work there to provide for the special needs kids who attend the school.</span><br /><div style="margin-bottom: 1.5em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLaJ79Bjk4zNiRXaVIQ2mDx2SYu3KUEm6tBloAVLtrGMCmryOCVQkElc1hIkTh33dJ9-cjLUuSXvH17eG4ZodDFAOhRO_bD5qH5ZXFHn7R_5DvT8uMBcOHhYmR6dYFPk6J3TdC09xrSUbq/s1600/malaika+mum_0571.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLaJ79Bjk4zNiRXaVIQ2mDx2SYu3KUEm6tBloAVLtrGMCmryOCVQkElc1hIkTh33dJ9-cjLUuSXvH17eG4ZodDFAOhRO_bD5qH5ZXFHn7R_5DvT8uMBcOHhYmR6dYFPk6J3TdC09xrSUbq/s400/malaika+mum_0571.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Equally joyful was the Malaiku Mums workshop next door. We were greeting with radiant smiles and nervous laughter as we took photos and video who were hard at work measuring, marking, cutting and sewing fabric. </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The women were transforming the rough woven cloth into items which are then sold to provide income for their families and support for their children. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XkufQYKaU70&list=UUTZnPHu5P8EjAWilT4Y5gvw&index=3&feature=plcp" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" target="_blank"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGJw7evFKBURFDa6t98F1QkVsRzOFmn7xRWZiCv0Mt9b15mwDL5JMdQQwzsGydr2fhaecxTItNnAUIx-iXRtqEWd5VlAeRfwgDz6TOM5H4M0pNzKekAq-jJRPez81XlBPEqEQFK9iP21ma/s400/george_0425.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><b>Click on the image above to play the video</b></span></td></tr></tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By far the most touching moment of the day was seeing George, who has Down’s Syndrome, writing the numbers 1 to 10. I watched George as he started, then faltered, then used the chalkboard eraser to begin again, all the while looking to his teacher for encouragement.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He never seemed frustrated or upset, but simply kept at it until 2 minutes and 37 seconds later he had completed the task. Feeling choked up, I realized how annoyed or angry I can become at even the smallest inconvenience and how much I have to be thankful for. I’ve thought of George many times since then, and the tranquility he embodies.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lost in my reverie about my time in Kenya, I wasn’t sure how long I’d been standing there in the courtyard of <a href="http://www.ctcinternational.org/" target="_blank">Comfort the Children</a> in Austin, Texas. I had the strangest sensation that I had stepped through a portal into another dimension. I wasn’t really sure which continent I was on.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'd stumbled in quite by accident. I was supposed to meet a client at a nearby location which we were considering using for an upcoming photo shoot, but had come to the address of Comfort The Children by mistake. I wandered inside to ask for directions, and was greeted warmly by the staff who pointed me down the street.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Before I left, I let them know that I had just come from Mai Mahiu, and had a bunch of photos and videos from the Malaika school if they wanted to use them. They were delighted, and asked me to write a blog for their website as well. As I walked back to my car, I couldn’t help noticing what a great location the courtyard at Comfort The Children would make for our photo shoot. I dashed off to meet my client and convinced him to return with me to scope it out. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhymMRo1n80py3qFB-Jrgi6JAODWvkBbtzeHnGPXxRNwifUAwcdsMGEIh89-FHDY0a_Pdl0DLkVryWh9vVbQHvLfvymLGFPUAJaexgF0BOcmKvpQizIaq4yFjhIZghFXk7cTfptQOQ8LZf3/s1600/guayabera_7747.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhymMRo1n80py3qFB-Jrgi6JAODWvkBbtzeHnGPXxRNwifUAwcdsMGEIh89-FHDY0a_Pdl0DLkVryWh9vVbQHvLfvymLGFPUAJaexgF0BOcmKvpQizIaq4yFjhIZghFXk7cTfptQOQ8LZf3/s400/guayabera_7747.jpg" width="267" /></span></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A week later, I rented my former studio from the guy who took over the space when I moved out a year and a half ago.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It was strange to be back in place I where I had worked for more than 20 years but which now had different furniture and someone else's photographs on the walls, but at the same time a wonderful sense of familiarity and coming home.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By the time we arrived at the courtyard of Comfort the Children, the weather had turned chilly and overcast, and we had to create images that looked like they were shot on a sunny day in Mexico!</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thanks to the miracle of artificial lighting, we got some great images, despite the fact that our model's teeth were chattering and his skin was turning blue. </span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Another bit of serendipity was that the check my client wrote to Comfort The Children to rent their location went to support a great cause.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEE2cXq56ykw4Na8eswdQL1WuJWhv_zVWqllVcHu3x2pF1dhx4mVQ3vznYn9fozbt9OjVleZTIdDzy9xyzxzZErLOsUAUzQHg2-hiZdXO-v9dU19dkWvDL82CimAAvKUyudJIwD8qd7mTS/s1600/teesa_8006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEE2cXq56ykw4Na8eswdQL1WuJWhv_zVWqllVcHu3x2pF1dhx4mVQ3vznYn9fozbt9OjVleZTIdDzy9xyzxzZErLOsUAUzQHg2-hiZdXO-v9dU19dkWvDL82CimAAvKUyudJIwD8qd7mTS/s400/teesa_8006.jpg" width="266" /></span></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Before we called it quits for the day, I persuaded one of the CTC staff members tocome outside and let me photograph her. Grabbing a brightly colored piece of cloth that was on display in their gift shop, I wrapped it around her head and posed her against a tree looking directly into the camera. </span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As I looked through the viewfinder, once again I wasn't sure if I was in Austin...or Africa.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEE2cXq56ykw4Na8eswdQL1WuJWhv_zVWqllVcHu3x2pF1dhx4mVQ3vznYn9fozbt9OjVleZTIdDzy9xyzxzZErLOsUAUzQHg2-hiZdXO-v9dU19dkWvDL82CimAAvKUyudJIwD8qd7mTS/s1600/teesa_8006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; clear: right; color: black; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; clear: right; color: black; display: inline !important; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEE2cXq56ykw4Na8eswdQL1WuJWhv_zVWqllVcHu3x2pF1dhx4mVQ3vznYn9fozbt9OjVleZTIdDzy9xyzxzZErLOsUAUzQHg2-hiZdXO-v9dU19dkWvDL82CimAAvKUyudJIwD8qd7mTS/s1600/teesa_8006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"> </a></span></span></div></div>John Langfordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16483420812373520287noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8826582124674134220.post-72561489600800538542012-02-27T08:08:00.000-06:002013-09-10T07:53:01.753-05:00Timbuktu or Texas?<div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeav3xlaZHBaJAosZnKH4halpQ3gJBuQAp8x2dNmOoUTnxg6FgNMoxNZshIfsYSs9BPoEGEQ5YAjKQzZ8nxeurRtH9FfIvCuOyGlcT8A-YHnFstg_fQ6FotbWzqzbxyfj6Qt_lgmxlrSc0/s1600/euro+news.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeav3xlaZHBaJAosZnKH4halpQ3gJBuQAp8x2dNmOoUTnxg6FgNMoxNZshIfsYSs9BPoEGEQ5YAjKQzZ8nxeurRtH9FfIvCuOyGlcT8A-YHnFstg_fQ6FotbWzqzbxyfj6Qt_lgmxlrSc0/s400/euro+news.jpg" width="373" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was in Mombasa, Kenya when I received word that five travelers had been kidnapped and one of them killed. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Although these were people I’d never met, and the abductions took place thousands of miles away, they happened in Timubuktu, the very place I was headed in about 6 weeks. All foreigners were being evacuated and embassies from every country were discouraging travelers from venturing into the region.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I had signed up to volunteer at a three day music festival in Mali in northwest Africa and had been looking forward to the adventure...sleeping in a tent in the desert with local <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tuareg_people" target="_blank">Tuareg</a> people who are nomads of the Sahara.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Immediately following the kidnappings, the volunteer coordinator sent each of us an email stating that while they would do everything to guarantee our safety, the organizers of the event wanted each of us to make a fully informed decision.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My plan was to visit Zanzibar, Madagascar, Mauritius and Mozambique before boarding the long flight to Bamako, the capital city of Mali. There, I’d take a 14 hour bus ride to Timbuktu where the festival was be held. There’s a reason why the word “Timbuktu” is synonymous with “the middle of nowhere”. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxaiiMREzEjDsAticMgqqSgLIKk1lZ14uuu1w1-jLKUfpVokVbBeGzbEaLdYs-xHnLB9qyhrOHp6JIAa6xZICSOSMnV1W_KuUEBYcZhxU5T00nPYcw22mNDdapDLzHWS3t4wQUQAuriUxF/s1600/mali.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxaiiMREzEjDsAticMgqqSgLIKk1lZ14uuu1w1-jLKUfpVokVbBeGzbEaLdYs-xHnLB9qyhrOHp6JIAa6xZICSOSMnV1W_KuUEBYcZhxU5T00nPYcw22mNDdapDLzHWS3t4wQUQAuriUxF/s400/mali.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I weighed my options. Should I head to the desert for a big adventure (potentially a life-threatening one) or should I reconsider? These kinds of events tend to be exaggerated in the Western media. I had just come from Nairobi where two bombings had occurred and it wasn’t even a topic of conversation amongst the folks who live there. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The volunteers began to email each other and everyone was in high spirits…eager to attend the festival as planned and not be dissuaded by these randoms act of terrorism. The messages were inspiring…we would converge on the town of Timbuktu in a spirit of unity and solidarity. To do otherwise would be giving in to violence and hatred.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But then one of the volunteers sent an email saying that he had attended the festival a few years earlier, was still in touch with friends who lived in Timbuktu and that they were telling him not to come…that it wasn’t safe.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After Mali, my plan was to continue traveling for another year and a half. The life of a professional vagabond may seem like a permanent vacation, but I’d already been on the road for 16 months non-stop.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">19 countries. 15 languages. Staying in a different place every 3 or 4 nights. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Solo. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was road weary. And lonesome.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And then it occurred to me…I could still visit most of the countries I’d planned to go to prior to Mali, and make it it back to Austin, Texas in time for Christmas and surprise all my friends who weren’t planning to see me for another year and a half. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Three weeks later, I felt elated and excited to be going “home” to the place where I no longer owned my house, car, furniture, clothing or photography studio. But as I boarded the 16 hour flight from Dubai to Houston and discovered that I was seated in the centre of an equilateral triangle formed by three screaming babies, I came very close to changing my mind.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8QojCR6H4HO2FRZzDpgqJoJQ9ZHJ7UwEBzfbLqn9Cc0aLo8CEIovaSehLz9cVgeSZ5R5JYpNlrnwJdjssoObQWqv9lrW3_N6-XieO_P1lRKc4-MQ0CqCA9fbFQHO5i973qASHNFIG5NhE/s1600/elliot+org.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8QojCR6H4HO2FRZzDpgqJoJQ9ZHJ7UwEBzfbLqn9Cc0aLo8CEIovaSehLz9cVgeSZ5R5JYpNlrnwJdjssoObQWqv9lrW3_N6-XieO_P1lRKc4-MQ0CqCA9fbFQHO5i973qASHNFIG5NhE/s320/elliot+org.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There was never more than a five minute break in the constant wailing, crying and screeching. I played every mind game I could think of to reframe my situation. </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“This isn’t nearly as bad as being on a slave ship crossing the Atlantic for three months” I told myself. Or “I’ve got it easy compared to the Jews on the freezing railroad cars being shipped to the concentration camps”, or even “what if these babies grow up to be Grammy award winners and they’re just practicing until they can get in front of a microphone?” </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When I disembarked, I was ready to be admitted to a psychiatric hospital.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBVyrGGUOlwSkXgBGjubvM4XmfkW_Rh9yGVKRRfADkrhmQxSwQyY7CC8rcktm85Qv5tfMb1dJZEV7AUzpfC0ITe_WFPIIhi7jNrG5qugLyvfgkSqE1eNlC52uxACg7mvjutsU__FT3MRSh/s1600/swollen+fott_3496.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="370" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBVyrGGUOlwSkXgBGjubvM4XmfkW_Rh9yGVKRRfADkrhmQxSwQyY7CC8rcktm85Qv5tfMb1dJZEV7AUzpfC0ITe_WFPIIhi7jNrG5qugLyvfgkSqE1eNlC52uxACg7mvjutsU__FT3MRSh/s400/swollen+fott_3496.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To make things worse, my right foot was infected and swollen. I had ignored a blister caused by an ill-fitting scuba fin I had worn for four days in a row and now I was paying the price. The lesion was inflamed and red and painful, and sitting for 16 hours wasn’t helping matters. I arrived in Austin with my nerves frayed and my foot throbbing. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Within a few days of my arrival, I felt much better as the result of keeping my leg elevated and taking some leftover antibiotics I had purchased over the counter in Cambodia several months earlier to get rid of a self-diagnosed intestinal parasite.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And then, out of nowhere, I received an email from a former client wanting to know when I’d be returning to Austin because he wanted to shoot some new photos for his website.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A few days later, another email arrived from the marketing manager of a company needing some executive headshots. And then a third email, this time from a motivational speaker needing some promo photos. None of these people knew I was in Austin. Serendipity-Do-Da! I even rented my former studio for one of photo shoots and had to turn down three other jobs! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The income from those gigs enabled me to pay for my trip from Africa, as well as having my camera and computer repaired, getting my teeth cleaned and a cracked filling replaced, visiting the doctor for a check up, buying some new socks and underwear and replacing an expensive pair of glasses that I had somehow managed to lose since my arrival back in Austin.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In addition, I was able to wash my clothes in a washing machine and dry them in a dryer, take as many hot showers as I wanted and eat as many calories as I could get my hands on. I’d lost about 15 pounds during my 16 months of travel and my jeans were so loose I could take them off without unbuttoning them!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I fully recharged my “friendship batteries” with loved ones whom I’d sorely missed since I’d been gone. They wined and dined me so much that in just 8 weeks I gained back all the weight I’d lost during the preceding year and a half!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrZNM_HlVodYuQ52BbZcOTmVLZaMhygMC2UAhCifla4Ina8ss5OWIJHjmeORullb-CyC8DtedX1GauOz-T_311pYUCz6mIzspQfKxjd_cBH2rk2BmazSXDce28czt6zdq4hsUpxUJDuLdd/s1600/hostages.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></a></div><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There were so many friends I wanted to catch up with that many days I had to schedule breakfast, mid-morning coffee, lunch, afternoon coffee, happy hour and dinner!</span><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was overwhelmed by the outpouring of love and affection and generosity I received, and by the number of people who thanked me for writing this blog and posting my travel photos on facebook and my website. Apparently a lot of folks like to travel vicariously.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicu3zDTuk8wjLClYmHXNX3PQcTfxK6qCOes7qjc5w3EbCQZXbt04U2506881X-ErMHDITBTTk6HZAQkleYSxwhuFbPS61B5EP5xOFLz53MzlpaojJ4lTXl4XvVvmLm6tpJxSdpyfv6MhQG/s1600/natures+graffiti.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="351" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicu3zDTuk8wjLClYmHXNX3PQcTfxK6qCOes7qjc5w3EbCQZXbt04U2506881X-ErMHDITBTTk6HZAQkleYSxwhuFbPS61B5EP5xOFLz53MzlpaojJ4lTXl4XvVvmLm6tpJxSdpyfv6MhQG/s400/natures+graffiti.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I seem to live a charmed life. I always have. In a year and a half of traveling nothing bad has happened to me. I've never been robbed or had anything stolen from my room or felt unsafe. </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sure, I've had my share of unwanted gastro-intestinal passengers, and I've been in a few situations where I thought "I hope this episode has a happy ending!"...but that's to be expected.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And...I've gotten much better at listening to my intuition and paying attention to my internal compass. When I do, it usually points me in the right direction, even when my destination ends up being ten thousand miles from where I thought I was going. </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>John Langfordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16483420812373520287noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8826582124674134220.post-46878941053833417732011-12-10T10:19:00.000-06:002013-09-10T07:53:01.835-05:00Parlez-Vous Anglais?<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img alt="" border="0" height="400" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5687559439426413890" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-A08huZXxs9Q/Tu5FLRnuZUI/AAAAAAAAEZY/M0jZFAYEgag/s400/gecko%2Band%2Bcurtain_2670.jpg" width="300" /></span><br /><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’m in Madagascar, staying in a hilltop bungalow overlooking the beach called "Coucher de Soleil". The name of the place, if my long forgotten French serves me correctly, translates as “Sleep of the Sun”. I think what they mean is "Sunset".</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I can think of lots of worse names for a place where you bathe with cold water from a rusty 50 gallon drum, flush the toilet with a bucket of water from the same drum and brush your teeth over the toilet because there’s no sink. There's also non-stop squawking from the resident parrots and the soul-numbing “thump-thump-thump” of the devil’s music emanating from the bar nearby until 2 each morning.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5687560635439748322" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AFi_GGzbWMI/Tu5GQ5HhlOI/AAAAAAAAEa0/0uQwK-7EjGI/s400/parrot_2724.jpg" style="height: 400px; width: 300px;" /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span">I’ve been i</span><span class="Apple-style-span">n 18 countries in the Pacific, Asia and Africa in the last 16 months, and this is the first time I’ve felt intimidated by the language barrier.</span><span class="Apple-style-span"> Ironically, </span><span class="Apple-style-span">it’s because everyone speaks French!</span></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I sat through a LOT of French classes in high school and even in university, so I feel embarrassed that I’m not more proficient. But in my defense, and with apologies to Miss Crichton, most foreign language classes of that era focused on reading and writing and passing tests, rather than on actually speaking French.</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Just two days ago I was in Zanzibar, greeting people in Swahili. After five weeks in Kenya and Tanzania, my vocabulary included the words for “please” “thank you” “how are you?” “I’m fine” “good” “I’m sorry” “I understand” “foreigner” (I heard that word a LOT, preceded by what I feel certain were colorful, if not complimentary adjectives. My favorite, if for no other reason than it sounds exactly like what it means is “hakuna matata”….”no problem."</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5693444594953192210" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jSwm5rNUbEE/TwMtsaaNgxI/AAAAAAAAEcw/Ud9X4CW6Oy8/s400/heavy%2Bloads_2880.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; height: 400px; width: 300px;" /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In those countries, I was obviously an outsider</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"> and didn't encounter many other foreigners, relatively speaking. Nobody expected me to speak the language with any degree of fluency, and people seemed genuinely surprised and delighted that I was making the effort. But here, the place is crawling with French people, so even though I blend in more on the outside, I feel much more conspicuous when I open my mouth to speak, because all the foreigners here (with a few exceptions like myself) speak the language fluently. Do you follow my somewhat twisted logic?</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">That said, I had managed catch a taxi (which I shared with a couple from Barcelona who only spoke Spanish...but that's another story) find a place to stay and even make a feeble attempt at negotiating a lower rate. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">Yesterday I found a dive shop, and entering, I confidently said "Bonjour! Comment ça va?" then sheepishly told the proprietor "Excusez-moi...je ne parle pas Français tres bien." He told me in French that my French was better than his English, which made me feel good, even if it was a bald faced lie. I've heard that the French are loathe to speak English, but at least he had the decency to appeal to my ego.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I left there not sure whether I had signed up for a scuba diving excursion or as a cabin boy for a voyage to Mozambique, but when I “retourned” this morning, I was relieved to find that in addition to two French divers, there were three guys from South Africa and a fellow from the Netherlands, all of them conversing with one another in English. I had to laugh when the dive master assigned the Dutch guy and me to each other as dive buddies and he leaned over and said “Man, I thought I was the only one in this country who doesn’t speak French!”</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Not that it matters underwater, except that when diving outside the U.S. or Caribbean, your pressure gauge is calibrated in millimeters. When you’re accustomed to beginning a dive with 3200 pounds per square inch of pressure in your tank, you don’t want to look down ten minutes into your dive, 75 feet under water …(sorry, make that 22.7575 meters) and see the needle resting on the number 200.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">This afternoon I rented a motorcycle and rode around the island. At one point I was stopped at a police road block. </span><span class="Apple-style-span">He carefully flipped through every single page of my passport, looking intently at each visa stamp, and his facial expression indicated that this was a grave situation indeed. He was speaking rapidly in French the entire time, </span></span>and kept repeating a phrase I just couldn’t make out.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Je ne parle pas Français tres bien” I said. "I don't speak French very well."</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He kept repeating it.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Finally I said “Plus lentement s’il vous plait” which I hoped was something close to a very polite “Could you repeat that more slowly please?”</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Avez-vous quelque chose pour mois?” he said with a twinkle in his eye.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Pardonnez-moi, je ne comprends pas” I replied "I don't understand"….as the light bulb in my head begain to come on.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Avez-vous un cadeau pour mois?” he repeated…this time a little more sheepishly.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As he said that phrase, my mind suddenly expanded to give me a bird's eye view of the entire scenario as well as total recall of every bit of French I had ever studied.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My thought process went something like this:</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1. I’m in a foreign country</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">2. It’s one of the poorest countries in the world<o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">3. This guy’s got my passport so he knows I’m American, which to him means I've got buckets of money<o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">4. He’s holding in his hands a document containing page after page of visas from countries I’ve visited, which only confirms his suspicions that I am filthy rich.<o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">5. From the dim, dark recesses of my feeble <span class="Apple-style-span">memory, I somehow managed to dredge up the cobweb covered, dim, dusty recollection that the word "cadeau" means "a present".</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">6. This is a shake down. A stick up. Highway robbery. Literally.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span">With a huge smile on my face, feigning total lack of comprehension, I said again “I’m sorry, my French is really bad” while taking my passport from his hands and </span><span class="Apple-style-span">once I’d safely retrieved it , I asked “Quelque chose pour vous?”...”A present for you?”</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span">“Oui!” he said smiling, happy that I had finall</span><span class="Apple-style-span">y understood his request.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Au revoir!” I called over my shoulder, as I sped away, a fugitive from justice.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5687560013875988802" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LXJCgqRB02k/Tu5FstnLSUI/AAAAAAAAEaI/yFRQuH5ngWk/s400/madagascar%2Bsunset_2685.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; height: 311px; width: 400px;" /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal"></div>John Langfordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16483420812373520287noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8826582124674134220.post-47252856904512687272011-11-11T06:01:00.000-06:002013-09-10T07:53:01.879-05:00The Monk And The Motor Scooter<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-x1zY8WxEJTs/TwMy7Mxy2vI/AAAAAAAAEc8/qCzJ8AaThJI/s1600/bridge_9172.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-x1zY8WxEJTs/TwMy7Mxy2vI/AAAAAAAAEc8/qCzJ8AaThJI/s400/bridge_9172.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5693450346550188786" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial;">I was standing in the middle of a rickety bamboo bridge, hoping it wouldn’t collapse beneath me before I could get a photo of the sunset.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I had endured a four hour nausea-inducing ride up a winding mountain road, crammed into a mini-bus with 13 other travelers. Arriving in the small town of Pai, Thailand, I managed to find a thatched hut for $6 a night.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">But crossing this treacherous bridge was the only way to get there. Each time I walked across it I held my breath until I reached the other side. And at night, it was black as pitch, so without a flashlight you were in real danger of putting your foot through one of the many holes in the flimsy walkway.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">It was almost dark, when out of the corner of my eye I saw an orange-robed figure approaching. We chatted about this and that, and just as the sun’s last rays were dissolving into the night sky, I asked if I could take a photograph of his hand. Chuck</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial;">ling, he obliged my odd request.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ucvOyKt9Th0/TwMzXAUpUKI/AAAAAAAAEdI/2EJgGqOCfPA/s400/monk%2527s%2Bhand%2Bto%2Bheart_9175.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5693450824243040418" style="cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Georgia, serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">We continued talking as he made his way back to the local temple where he was staying. His name was Piak, a 52 year old Buddhist monk who was on vacation and traveling around Thailand for a few days. He told me about his daily routine…arising at 4 o’clock each morning to meditate and pray, and then walk the streets, carry</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">ing the traditional metal bowl which monks use to collect contributions of food for their breakfast.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">When I told him I’d like to make a small donation, he invited me to come with him to the temple, explaining that it would be improper to accept such a</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial;">gift on the street, and that there was a ceremonial blessing that should be bestowed on the giver.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">A few minutes later we arrived at the temple which was completely dark and Piak led me across a grassy expanse to the guest quarters. He unlocked the door and flipped on the light..his tiny place made mine look like the Taj Mahal.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="text-align: left;clear: both; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; "><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lOtygT0OpoM/TwM0PfWKSsI/AAAAAAAAEdU/ti2ijdPtoAw/s400/monks%2Bmeal_9673.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5693451794643569346" style="cursor: pointer; width: 342px; height: 400px; " /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="text-align: left;clear: both; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Without any sort of preface or explanation, he went to his room and did not return. Pretty soon I heard the droning sound of his voice as he began his evening prayer ritual. The heat was stifling, so I went outside and sat on the steps and decided to meditate as well, assuming he would eventually emerge from his chambers so I could give him my donation and leave him to do whatever it is that monks do.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color:black;">After about half an hour, he emerged with a bunch of newspaper and a stick of of glue. I wasn't sure if this was part of the ritual he had referred to earlier, but as it turns out, these were materials he had procured to repair the holes in the screen door which were admitting mosquitoes to his already spartan accommodations.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; font-family:arial;color:black;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I don’t know if you’ve ever tried to paste newspaper to a screen door...I hadn't...but it’s an exercise in futility. It requires the patience of Job….or a Buddhist monk…to stick with the task long enough to have any hope of success. But succeed we did, and by now I was eager to be on my way.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">“So...I’d still like to make a donation if that’s...”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">“Please…sit” said Piak, gesturing to the floor and seating himself on a cushion. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">He explained that as a monk it was important that his head be slightly higher than anyone else in the room. Wrapping his hands in a piece of decorative cloth, so that they did not come in direct contact with the money, he extended them towards me. I placed my gift in the cloth, which he immediately wrapped up, and then launched into an incantation which made me feel as if I was being bound up in some sort of cosmic bubble wrap which would protect me from being run over by a motorcycle or falling through the bridge on the way home.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">We chatted for quite a while, and as I got up to leave, I told Piak that I had really enjoyed meeting him, and that the following day I was planning to rent a motorcycle and tour some caves nearby.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">“I want to come too” he responded.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">“Do you mean you want to rent a motorcycle also?” I asked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">“No...too expensive. I ride with you!”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I was dumbstruck.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-saRMNtIbzhk/TrzgxtGL2UI/AAAAAAAAEVo/W1xKtKTqKXY/s1600/IMG_9904.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673656775103732034" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-saRMNtIbzhk/TrzgxtGL2UI/AAAAAAAAEVo/W1xKtKTqKXY/s400/IMG_9904.jpg" style="height: 300px; width: 400px;" /></span></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">The next morning, Piak had very definite opinions about what type of motorcycle we should rent, choosing the most expensive option.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Since it was my money we were spending, and I hadn’t ridden a motorcycle in 25 years, I opted for a moderately priced scooter with automatic transmission.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">The next few days were a joyful journey including hikes to waterfalls, crossing tranquil bridges which arched over quietly flowing streams, walking along peaceful paths through the forest, exploring caves and temples and chatting with other monks. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">We talked extensively about Buddhism, and he expounded upon some of the more than 400 precepts that monks must follow. Among the many beliefs we shared, one which we agreed upon whole-heartedly was that the most important moment in our lives is right now.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-align: right;clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5670381746142353218" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4zipYhkUrzw/TrE-J7esl0I/AAAAAAAAEK8/VIprFlJ4s7s/s400/paik%2Bwith%2Bkids_9563.jpg" style="height: 326px; width: 400px;" /></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span">We even made </span><span class="Apple-style-span">a brief stop a</span><span class="Apple-style-span">t an elephant camp so Piak could rub noses with a creature which in Thailand is a symbol of wisdom and which Aristotle described as <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:100%;">"</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:100%;">the beast which passeth all others in wit and mind." We also made a couple of stops at remote hamlets so that Piak, despite the fact that he was "off duty", could distribute food and sweets to the village children.</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br />These moments were interspersed with him shouting at me to slow down, me admonishing him to keep his helmet on, his chin strap fastened and not to ride side saddle, and at the end of the day booking separate rooms so we could spend some time alone. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">Everywhere we went, we <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330033;">elicited stares of disbelief, and I realized about halfway through the second day that I was wearing an orange t-shirt, which kinda made us look like we were sporting jerseys from the same team.</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5670381775270042690" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PRx68JSDHag/TrE-Ln_R3EI/AAAAAAAAELU/KL56HF4nW4s/s400/piak%2Band%2Bwaterfall_9933.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; height: 400px; width: 300px;" /><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5670381758028454738" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WD3qA4FQhZA/TrE-KnwkG1I/AAAAAAAAELI/IH3Grv8IyoM/s400/piak%2Band%2Belephant_9850.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; height: 400px; width: 300px;" /><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673657090066913010" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KTaGdC4kI4U/TrzhECbQlvI/AAAAAAAAEV4/s1ptE_tgF_M/s400/cave%2Bentrance_9235.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; height: 400px; width: 305px;" /><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5670379727083730386" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Pt1knFfV4Ko/TrE8UZ5m9dI/AAAAAAAAEJo/TlNyfFePkmU/s400/monk%2Bon%2Bbridge_9286.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; height: 400px; width: 300px;" /><br /><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Near the end of our journey, as dusk was approaching, we passed a mountain vista which was breath-taking. I wanted to pull off the road to take a photograph and savor the view. As I slowed down and signaled, I could hear Piak behind me saying “No! No! No!” As we eased onto the gravel shoulder, slowly coming to stop, I shifted to neutral and coasted to the spot where we’d have the best vantage point.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5670379774606556354" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Cy53ShDsh9U/TrE8XK77vMI/AAAAAAAAEKM/1HcGGW8HgrE/s400/mountain%2Brange_9741.jpg" style="height: 300px; width: 400px;" /></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Without warning, the front wheel slid out from under me and the scooter went down, sending both of us tumbling into a tangle of arms and legs and handlebars and saffron robes. I frantically scanned my body to determine whether I was hurt. My next thought was “Is Piak injured, and if so, how badly? If seriously, then how will I get him to a hospital?” All of this took a fraction of a second. As I turned to him, his eyes were closed and he was completely immobile.<br /><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">“Are you O.K.?”<br /><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">He didn’t respond immediately, and I felt the panic rising in my chest. What if he’s dead? How will I transport the body? Who will I notify? Would it be easier to simply bury the corpse in a shallow grave and drive off?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">He opened his eyes and blinked, and as we tried to untangle ourselves, a knot of yin and yang, east and west, jeans and robes, sacred and profane, and a cumulative total of 104 years of life experience, I started to laugh. We were both unharmed, except for a few minor scrapes and cuts. The only casualty was that the hot exhaust pipe had burned a hole in Paik’s robe.<br /><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673657872043549186" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gibtkpn6ato/TrzhxjhBIgI/AAAAAAAAEWQ/FkJVjLATYew/s400/john%2Band%2Bpiak_9760.jpg" style="height: 300px; width: 400px;" /></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">We made it home without further incident and before we said our final goodbye, I asked Paik if I could take one more photograph of him. Eager to oblige, he walked with me to the bridge where we had first met. He looked beatifically into the setting sun.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br />I said goodbye to my saffron-robed friend, and trudged across the bridge to my hut, feeling a little melancholy that I wouldn’t see him again. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br />The next morning, I found a multi-colored bracelet lying on the bridge, and I still have it on my wrist as a reminder of the man with whom I shared a magical and mystical trip.<br /><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ntcYY979M_Y/TrE-JWrTSiI/AAAAAAAAEKw/MwHXDZOfuug/s1600/paik%2Bon%2Bbridge_9991.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><img alt="" border="0" height="400" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5670381736263109154" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ntcYY979M_Y/TrE-JWrTSiI/AAAAAAAAEKw/MwHXDZOfuug/s400/paik%2Bon%2Bbridge_9991.jpg" width="300" /></span></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; "><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">Months later, I was chatting with another traveler whom I met in Vietnam, and we were comparing notes about the various places we’d visited. She asked me if I’d heard about the severe flooding in Pai. I told her I hadn’t.</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">“Yeah!” she said…..”I don’t know if you know where the bamboo bridge is, but it was washed away completely.”<br /><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I thought of what a perfect metaphor that bridge was….spanning the gap between all of us...and how, despite our differences, all human beings have far more in common. Knowing that the bridge had been swept away was a reminder to live in the moment, seizing each opportunity.<br /><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">You never know what a day will bring.</span></div></div>John Langfordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16483420812373520287noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8826582124674134220.post-23386178022060724642011-11-09T03:20:00.000-06:002013-09-10T07:53:01.924-05:00Noah's Ark<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZxandrCiyFI/TrpGChnnmkI/AAAAAAAAEVI/A2l9Knbmmdk/s1600/noah%2527s%2Bark_1126.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 312px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZxandrCiyFI/TrpGChnnmkI/AAAAAAAAEVI/A2l9Knbmmdk/s400/noah%2527s%2Bark_1126.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672923689824787010" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><b>Malindi, Kenya:</b> </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I think I may have stumbled upon Noah's Ark.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">When I tried to explain the historic/religious/archeological significance of this to the three guys smoking pot inside the boat, they seemed confused.</span></div>John Langfordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16483420812373520287noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8826582124674134220.post-84172746152631874862011-11-09T03:18:00.000-06:002013-09-10T07:53:01.964-05:001st World Problems<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PiQQsQT-wy8/TrpFohmFuzI/AAAAAAAAEU8/ChDr6wT3iBI/s1600/1st%2Bworld%2Bproblems.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 396px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PiQQsQT-wy8/TrpFohmFuzI/AAAAAAAAEU8/ChDr6wT3iBI/s400/1st%2Bworld%2Bproblems.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672923243141774130" /></a>John Langfordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16483420812373520287noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8826582124674134220.post-79954467591565654072011-11-07T01:54:00.000-06:002013-09-10T07:53:02.008-05:00The Trouble With Quotes...<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FKz2wxf4eFY/TrePldu-6DI/AAAAAAAAEUw/XAqehEDz8_I/s1600/the%2Btrouble%2Bwith%2Bquotes.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FKz2wxf4eFY/TrePldu-6DI/AAAAAAAAEUw/XAqehEDz8_I/s400/the%2Btrouble%2Bwith%2Bquotes.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672160129496049714" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">Courtesy of Greg Miles and www.PonderAbout.com</span></div>John Langfordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16483420812373520287noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8826582124674134220.post-5052329976946332762011-11-07T01:52:00.000-06:002013-09-10T07:53:02.047-05:00Move Wildly Through LIfe<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PjYNsmbypkg/TreOeqj0UZI/AAAAAAAAEUk/gbDfgOAWy8g/s1600/move%2Bwildly.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PjYNsmbypkg/TreOeqj0UZI/AAAAAAAAEUk/gbDfgOAWy8g/s400/move%2Bwildly.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672158913168167314" /></a>John Langfordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16483420812373520287noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8826582124674134220.post-30069129479177129712011-11-06T02:35:00.000-06:002013-09-10T07:53:02.087-05:00Bait and Switch<span style="font-family:arial;"><b>Malindi, Kenya: </b></span><div><span style="font-family:arial;"><br />When I checked into "The Rhino Room" here at the African Pearl Guest House, I was delighted to find the walls covered in murals of Kenyan wildlife. But when I got ready to go to bed, I could not for the life of me find the light switch. I was trying to figure out how to unscrew the light bulb, which was completely out of reach, when I did one more thorough search and discovered the switch hidden in this painting next to the bed. And after 3 days of cold showers, I asked the housekeeping lady if there was a secret to getting hot water. Her response? "Yes...move to a room that has hot water."</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"></span></span></div></div><div><span><span><br /></span></span></div><div><span><span><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9N16HVLEomk/TrpJrM1AK5I/AAAAAAAAEVU/nURcVwIK64Q/s400/light%2Bswitch_0998.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672927687153298322" /></span></span></div>John Langfordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16483420812373520287noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8826582124674134220.post-45494182190543524182011-10-30T01:51:00.000-05:002013-09-10T07:53:02.128-05:00Not Kosher<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><b><span>5:30 a.m.</span></b><span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>My alarm goes off in Malé, Mald</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span">ives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I jump in the shower and as the dark sky turns to half light I am out the door to the ferry across the harbor to the airport where I spend my few remaining rufyiaa on breakfast by the waterfront as the sun comes up.</span></span><br /> </span><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 304px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Uevv_rTCDN8/Tq2EuKOZ18I/AAAAAAAAEFE/LNRGr__O0vk/s400/male%2Bpier_6482.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669333434482939842" /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><span style="mso-bidi-">12:00 noon</span></b><span style="mso-bidi-"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I arrive in Doha, Qatar where I am met </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;">by my sister’s best friend from high school, who takes me to the Diplomatic Club for a feast fit for a sheik, followed by a tour of the city.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0uSyBSlk3vw/Tqz23NJ54PI/AAAAAAAAEEU/HV8Un9TmXg0/s400/diplomatic%2Bclub_6502.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669177459237052658" /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><span style="mso-bidi-">5:30 p.m.</span></b><span style="mso-bidi-"> Sundown at the camel race track where I watch a procession of hundreds of dromedaries in the waning light.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 280px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ieV2YFre2yg/Tqz22qTFd4I/AAAAAAAAED8/XBatx0QNE8Y/s400/camel%2Bboys_6579.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669177449880319874" /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><span style="mso-bidi-">11:30 p.m.</span></b><span style="mso-bidi-"> Back to the airport with Janice and my new friend Youssef to catch my connecting flight to the Seychelles.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 297px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cv329wCuyfg/Tqz23knWlWI/AAAAAAAAEEg/Hzc_1G8TjiU/s400/janis%2Byousef%2Band%2Bjohn_3016.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669177465534584162" /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><span style="mso-bidi-">12:00 a.m.</span></b><span style="mso-bidi-"> Going through passport control I roll my eyes at another passenger as a child at the far counter squawks over and over and over again like a manic parrot...“Mama!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Mama!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Mama!”</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="mso-bidi-">“With my luck she’ll be sitting in the </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;">row right in front of me” I joke.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><span style="mso-bidi-">12:45 a.m.</span></b><span style="mso-bidi-"> </span></span>I am mistaken.<span> </span>She is seated 3 rows in front of me.<span> </span>And her squawks have increased both in pitch and in tempo.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;"><span style="mso-bidi-;font-family:arial;" >Flight departs Qatar for Seychelles.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><span style="mso-bidi-">1:30 a.m.</span></b><span style="mso-bidi-"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The passenger to my left has been wracked with paroxysms of coughing since before take off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He begins to complain of leg cramps and I begin to consider euthanizing him to put him out of my misery. Mercifully, the flight attendant reseats him somewhere out of earshot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Hopefully his new seat mate is deaf and does not contract tuberculosis.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">As I step into the aisle to make way for him, a flight attendant approaches me with what appears to be a pizza box.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>“Mr. Langford….I believe you ordered the kosher meal?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>If you’ll open the box for us, we’ll start preparing it for you.”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial;" >“What the…?<span> </span>I didn’t order the kosher meal...I promise!"</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">The entire cabin crew is Muslim.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial;" >"I’m not even Jewish!” I add hastily.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">As I take my seat, my sleep-starved brain cannot make sense of this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Suddenly, a light bulb comes on over my head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It is not the reading light.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It is the realization that for the first time in 15 months, having made all my own flight arrangements along the way, I have emailed my sister to book this series of flights for me since she's good at finding rock bottom prices on everything from airfares to housewares. Despite my hours of research, she is able to save me about $600.00 in less than 10 minutes.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">A dim memory begins to take shape...the last time she made travel arrangements for me was 12 years ago when she and I were flying to our brother’s wedding togeth<span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;">er.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;">On the return trip I was traveling solo, and when meal time came, the flight attendant approached me and, looking at her clipboard, asked “Are you Mr. Langford?</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">“Yes...that's me” I responded.”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">“I just wanted to confirm that you ordered the Hindu meal.”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">She got me then, and she got me again 12 years later. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><span style="mso-bidi-">2:30 a.m.</span></b><span style="mso-bidi-"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I curl up in the fetal position on the three adjoining seats in an attempt to get some much needed shut-eye while trying to ignore the immovable object poking me in the rib cage.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><span style="mso-bidi-">5:30 a.m.</span></b><span style="mso-bidi-"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I am awakened after 3 hours of f</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;">itful slee</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;">p by an announcement that our flight will be landing in about an hour.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;">I feel like something the cat dragged in and my mouth tastes like something the cat stepped in.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><span style="mso-bidi-">6:30 a.m.</span></b><span style="mso-bidi-"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I arrive at Mahe Airport, Seychelles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial;" >Just to see if I can do it, I have arrived in this country with no guide book, no map, and having done absolutely no research.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>My only contact is an Italian chef named Lucio whom I have never met but with whom I’ve had several email exchanges.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I found him on a website called <a href="http://www.couchsurfing.org/">couchsurfing.org</a> where travelers can meet people who are willing to host them for free.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I have less than 1 hour to get to the ferry pier.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I somehow manage to stumble through immigration and customs despite the fact that I am sleep-walking, <span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;">my entry card is only partially filled in, and </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;">my evasive answers regarding my accommodations while in the Seychelles arouse suspicion</span>. The trut<span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;">h is I’ll be staying with the chef at the resort where he works, but I can’t give the the name of the resort in case they call to confirm my reservation, which I don’t have. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;">I also fail to satisfy the immigration official’s inquiries as to how and when I’ll be leaving the country. That information is stored on </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;">my laptop which is in my bag, and I'm using my limited brain function to remain upright.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;">Against all odds, he lets me go.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Finally, I am questioned thoroughly by a representative of the local drug enforcement administration, and even though I am squeaky clean, by this point I'm feeling anxious and rattled and am unable to maintain eye contact.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I really don’t know why they let me in the country.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I wouldn’t have.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2ivvyWikYfw/Tqz2jR8T_OI/AAAAAAAAEDE/xlQ9OCvUXOE/s400/welcome%2Bmat_6586.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669177116924837090" /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">After my interrogation, I have just enough time to dash <span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;">to the ATM machine and withdraw US$200.00 worth of local currency.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><span style="mso-bidi-">7:00 a.m.</span></b><span style="mso-bidi-"> The clock is ticking. I sprint across the terminal to find a representative of the ferry company which will take me to the island where my host lives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I am told to wait nearby…that a shuttle bus will be along directly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>But I have no way to reach him besides a phone number and an email address.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I can’t wander into the resort with my backpack on and ask for the chef…that will blow his cover, because employees aren't allowed to have guests.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I search the terminal for a place to by a SIM card for my phone, and manage to find a newsstand that has just unlocked its doors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> I</span> purchase a SIM, <span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;">but the girl behind the counter can’t figure out how to activate it.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;">Plus, her fingernails are so long she can’t operate the touch screen on my iPhone. I’m really starting to panic…if I miss the bus, I’ll miss the ONLY ferry to the island of </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;">La Digue until tomorrow.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I emerge from the store frantic…has the bus <span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;">already come and gone without me?</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;">No…all is well.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;">I board the bus, get to the jetty, find the ticket office, purchase a fare. In the meantime, I've managed to get my phone working.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 283px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--hPRg2nM00I/Tqz2kKiG2KI/AAAAAAAAEDU/7a7_4lddaXo/s400/mahe%2Bharbor_3028.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669177132115744930" /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><span style="mso-bidi-">7:30</span></b><span style="mso-bidi-"> <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal">a.m.</b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;">I board the ferry. </span><span style="mso-bidi-">Once again I have made it by t</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;">he skin of my teeth, despite my complete and utter lack of planning.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial;" ><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><span style="mso-bidi-">9:30 a.m.</span></b><span style="mso-bidi-"> I arrive at my destination without puking, which is more than I can say for many of the other passengers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We tie up at the jetty and disembark.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I phone Lucio, realizing that I have traveled several thousand miles and 48 hours to stay with someone whom <span style="mso-spacerun: yes">I know absolutely nothing about. </span>He tells me to meet him at a grocery store called Gregoire’s, which he says is about 10 minutes away on foot. This is starting to feel like an international scavenger hunt.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RBpEHg3s54Q/Tqz2kBKj5bI/AAAAAAAAEDk/4GOquSah66U/s400/fishing%2Bnet_6584.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669177129601066418" style="cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I spot a guy with dreadlocks and a wool cap who's the spitting image of Bob Marley and ask him for directions. He tel<span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;">ls me it’s way too far to walk with a heavy backpack...20 minutes away at least. And now it’s starting to rain.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;">As luck would have it, he has one last</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;">bike I can rent for $10 a day.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;">I accept his offer.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;">Note to self:</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;">Never ask a guy </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;">who rents bicycles how far away something is.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;">Of course he’s gonna tell you it’s too far to walk, even if it’s around the corner.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BfpoCtYMgLA/Tqz2j6rek1I/AAAAAAAAEDM/nmFd1nWZFNU/s400/no%2Bhands_6601.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669177127860081490" style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Keep in mind that the backpack containing all my earthly possessions weighs about 40 lbs. And my carry-on bag containing my computer, charger, hard drives, a jacket, my toilet kit, flashlight and raincoat and weighs another 10lbs. or so.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Ever tried throwing your leg over the cross bar of a mountain bike with 50 lbs. strapped to your torso?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;">I wish I had a video. </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes">E</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;">ven funnier was my dismount...let’s just say my bike and I invented a new dance called “The Seychelle Shuffle.”</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><span style="mso-bidi-">11:00 a.m.</span></b><span style="mso-bidi-"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>After chatting with Lucio, he goes back to work and I take a </span>shower and fall into a deep sleep and dream that the heavens have opened, filling my backpack with rainwater.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VVVDTt4LC20/Tqz22heLqhI/AAAAAAAAEDw/ChcoTZeIAFs/s400/beach%2Bbed_6769.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669177447510944274" style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><span style="mso-bidi-">1:00 p.m.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></span></b><span style="mso-bidi-">I awake from my coma to discover that </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;">my dream was a premonition.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;">I go outside to find that the rain is coming in at a 45 degree angle and that my shoes, which I left on the front porch, are soaking wet.</span></span></p> <!--EndFragment-->John Langfordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16483420812373520287noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8826582124674134220.post-12894837482311524952011-10-27T23:29:00.000-05:002013-09-10T07:53:02.171-05:00Puppy Dogs, Unicorns and The Heart Of Darkness<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Qs7gWB7fbGw/TpPJSPeJleI/AAAAAAAAD1I/B4-ltuE4szQ/s400/sunset%2Bwith%2Brocks_4989.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662090471762662882" /><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;"><br /></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">A lot of professional photographers I know are loath to photograph sunsets…or cute kids or animals. Because it’s way too easy and it’s been done to death.<span style=" ;"> </span>Anyone can do it.<span style=" ;"> </span><br /></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BWNVSbHU01w/TpPJ5Db8iWI/AAAAAAAAD2U/fsuvLjQUSOw/s400/novice_4125.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662091138547091810" /><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gjJedCtTh_Y/TpPJSTARW5I/AAAAAAAAD1U/rLS-6BIWYhI/s400/grandmother%2Band%2Bbaby_4847.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662090472711084946" /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">So every time I photograph one of those subjects, I feel a little bit sheepish.<span> </span>Like I’m slam-dunking a basketball on a children’s playground. But I do it anyway…for the same reason I listen to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Karen_Carpenter">Karen Carpenter</a> singing <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QUDshT19j8Q">“Close to You”</a> whenever it’s playing in the elevator.<span> </span>It’s a guilty pleasure.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-brKj4eeAJhI/TqpzO4ubkLI/AAAAAAAAEBQ/dv-gv7Y3J_w/s400/temple%2Bgirl_7699.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668469780581683378" style="cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 298px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qC-wLfTPPUw/TpPJSlsUUiI/AAAAAAAAD1g/tJwyZNM-r7g/s400/cat%2Bon%2Bbolts%2Bof%2Bcloth_1958.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662090477727666722" /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I always wince a little when someone says “Wow!<span> </span>That looks just like a postcard!”<span> </span>I know they mean this as the highest form of praise, but what I hear instead is “That's trite. Boring. Predictable. It's the same photo any grandmother with a point-and-shoot camera could have taken if she'd been there.” We've all seen those postcards in every gift shop between here and the Point of No Return.</span></p><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Qa7BSPgulBw/TpPJTT1Rb2I/AAAAAAAAD14/lqb1tEgxk0g/s400/boy%2Bwith%2Bbroom_4040.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662090490113257314" /><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Q3RNgB85mrc/TpPJSzMAfkI/AAAAAAAAD1s/AtvBRCOSvhk/s400/face%2Bpaste_2130.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662090481350245954" /></span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial;" >Even worse than the “postcard” compliment is the one word response…"Nice”.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial;" >This one is usually uttered by self-important, self-absorbed, self-indulgent, self-centered, self-involved, self-seeking, self-conscious, self-loathing, selfish advertising agency art directors with a heart of darkness who subscribe to "Self" magazine.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rhavLDrGKiQ/Tqpx7CNCAlI/AAAAAAAAD_k/QTuCcOq85EI/s400/weather%2Bsystem_6741.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668468340016939602" style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 269px; " /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;">These are the same guys who dress in all black and wear über-hip sunglasses from Germany and wouldn’t be caught dead in shorts and a t-shirt or shopping at Target or getting a haircut that costs less than $75.00.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;">They’ve had a complete sense-of-humor-ectomy, so </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;">the closest they come to laughing is when they affect a completely deadpan expression as they monotone the words “That’s funny.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial;" ><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span>Some of my dearest friends are art directors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>And some aren’t.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-njQfpO-vzPc/TpPJ5lka4QI/AAAAAAAAD2k/XeCDUvlk65g/s400/kids_4798.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662091147709440258" style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 336px; " /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;">In my </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;">over-active imagination there’s this scenario where some art director who once owed me $15,000.00 and strung me along for 90 days sees my sunset photo </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;">(yes, I’m thinking of someone in particular...even in my fantasy I can hold a grudge!) </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;">and, brandishing his pitchfork, beckons one of his minions.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;">“That’s it!” he says, stroking his goatee.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;">“That’s the one!</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;">That is the quintessential sunset and I must have it!</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;">Money is no object!</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;">Bring that sunset to me now!”</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Fc9eyR7_NeU/Tqp1aglV3EI/AAAAAAAAECM/Ru9r5HFbmyc/s400/epic%2Bsunrise_5043.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668472179282795586" style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;">I can’t be bothered to respond to his emails, so he phones me personally and says “Mr. Langford, we’d like to purchase exclusive rights to use your sunset photo from now until eternity for worldwide print ads, brochures, leaflets, annual reports, textbooks, bus stops, point of purchase displays, packaging, airport kiosks, baseball caps, t-shirts, movie posters, coffee mugs, key rings, trading cards, refrigerator magnets, school lunch boxes and banner ads on every website on the internet. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;">And billboards in every major metropolitan city in the world, including La Paz, Bolivia. And on the big screen in Times Square.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;">Our client is MegaCorp., a conglomerate of Sony, Time Warner, Microsoft, CocaCola and Nike. Name your price.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial;" >I’ll let you know how that works out.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fHrwI4ipUhE/TqqG81owaYI/AAAAAAAAECY/5Cvut9KP3I8/s400/butterfly%2Bhand_6862.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668491460747487618" /></span><!--EndFragment--></p> <!--EndFragment--></div></div>John Langfordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16483420812373520287noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8826582124674134220.post-55919882631375271002011-10-10T06:38:00.000-05:002013-09-10T07:53:02.330-05:00Nothing To Write Home About<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3_z2M_WOFvU/TpLdEtwK0pI/AAAAAAAADys/8YO6upwzGg0/s1600/chipped%2Bsign_6349.jpg"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5661830754628981394" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3_z2M_WOFvU/TpLdEtwK0pI/AAAAAAAADys/8YO6upwzGg0/s400/chipped%2Bsign_6349.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; height: 300px; width: 400px;" /></span></a><br /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><b>We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence then, is not an act, but a habit. :: Aristotle</b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">I want it to be funny.</span><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">And soulful. With just the right amount of insight and poignancy without being sappy or tying everything up in a neat little bow. I want it to be honest and provocative and to raise questions. And I want to retain a vulnerability and a child-like curiosity about the cosmos.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">In other words, I want my writing to be a blockbuster, laugh 'til you cry, lump-in-your-throat, chart-topping, best-selling epiphany every single time.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">I suffer from the delusion that if I just chisel it, whittle it and sandpaper it long enough…that if I rearrange the words and sentences and paragraphs in every possible permutation, I’ll get it right. And that is the death of creativity.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">That approach will whip the very life out of any artistic pursuit, and turn it i<span class="Apple-style-span">nto a scientific endeavor. Instead of dancing like nobody’s watching, I often feel paralyzed by the criticism of the imaginary reader in my head who’s thinking “This is crap!</span><span class="Apple-style-span">” </span>That voice, of course, is mine. Someon<span class="Apple-style-span">e once told me "Fill the balcony in your mind with a standing-room-only crowd of your biggest fans." </span><span class="Apple-style-span"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span">Why is it that I listen to the handful of jeering hecklers in the cheap seats?</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">It’s not like I have any shortage of material. Even when I’m not traveling to exotic destinations, I have something to write about every single day. I live in a world that is filled with humor and poignant, mystical moments and lots of joy and plenty of sadness. I am perennially curious, and frequently filled with wonder <span class="Apple-style-span">by things I can’t explain, and skeptical of those who think they can.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">When I have an experience I want to rec<span class="Apple-style-span">ount, a story I want to tell, a feeling I want to convey, I often think in grandiose cinematic terms: a screenplay, complete with storyboard illustrations, lighting diagrams, camera angles and an orchestral soundtrack.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">And so I begin to write. Except that I’m not tapping on my computer keys, or putting pen to paper. It’s in my head. And that kind of writing goes nowhere. It's too much trouble for me to actually do it. Or I'm too tired. Or there's not enough time. What!? I've got nothing if not TONS of time right now.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">But I want it to be polished…primo…perfect. With just the right amount of alliteration. I’m not talking about grammar or run-on sentences or dangling participles. I want it DO something to the person reading it…whether it’s a eliciting a chuckle, or a sigh, or a memory, or sharing my skewed perspective on things.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">And so what it comes down to is what I know already. It’s the dilemma of every artist. If I sit and wait for the muse to grace me with her presence, I might miss dinner. It’s not like Mozart banged out a greatest hit every tim<span class="Apple-style-span">e he sat down at the piano. And I feel certain that Mr. Van Gogh used up a lot of yellow paint before he before he got those sunflowers just right. In fact, he didn’t sell a single painting while he was alive.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5661834584667521266" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SPnQmd1Cn7k/TpLgjpwhAPI/AAAAAAAADzE/ujJS_lbCVB4/s400/Van_Gogh_Twelve_Sunflowers.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; height: 400px; width: 322px;" /><span class="Apple-style-span"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5661834581581155074" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xLdTfFkj9qk/TpLgjeQqywI/AAAAAAAADy0/N-mDwOWv8Bk/s400/borusan-istanbul-philharmonic-orchestra-mozart-small-37184.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; height: 400px; width: 283px;" /></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">And yet I let my fear of putting anything mundane out there keep me from writing. And perfection can stand in the way of a lot of great art. Someone once said "Art is never completed, just abandoned."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">I feel certain that Sir Isaac Newton, the inventor of gravity, would tell you that it’s not every day an apple falls on your head. There’s a lot of hard work and tree shaking and days with no apples.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5661834584223600418" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XZz-JDIMkmU/TpLgjoGrTyI/AAAAAAAADy8/J9ku4yuhrnM/s400/issac3.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; height: 400px; width: 267px;" /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">So even when there’s no tangible payoff, any kind of artistic pursuit has to be a regular discipline. Sitting down at the keyboard...whether it's a computer or a piano, picking up the brush or the camera or the pen. Stepping out on the tight rope and realizing that falling or failing aren't even remote possibilities. I mean...how bad can it really be? If anything, it’s one more lesson in how NOT to do it next time.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">And by the way, I've been working on this for about 6 hours and I’m still not happy with it. But I'm gonna walk away. And come back and fiddle with it some more later.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">Even when I do not feel like work, I sit down to it just the same. I cannot wait for inspiration, and inspiration at best is a force brought into action by effort. </span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">Igor Stravinsky</span></b></div></div>John Langfordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16483420812373520287noreply@blogger.com9