Wiki Faux Pas

Are you trying to blend in? Not break any social rules, customs, or niceties? Well, good luck with that. To help you out, here’s a list of faux pas from Wikipedia.

Items of note:

- In Malaysia pointing with your forefinger is considered impolite (especially when pointing at people). Instead, a closed fist held sideways (thumb at the top) with the thumb pointing the direction is used.

I thought politicians only did this.

- In Australia requesting items like a fanny pack in Australia can be considered obscene due to the usage of "fanny" as referring to a woman's genitalia. Bumbag is an acceptable local variation.

- In Bangladesh closing one's eyes during a meal is said to invite demonic possession of the hosts.

- Germany has 37 points of politeness!

- In Nicaragua calling someone a "cochón"(homosexual), when you really want to buy a "colchón" (mattress).

I can’t tell you how many times this happened to me when I was traveling in Nicaragua last year. Very embarrassing. Almost as uncomfortable as hauling the mattress around the country.
Just to show you how useful this list is, here’s what it has for the United States:

- It is considered impolite to ask a woman how old she is or inquire about her weight.

- Emitting any powerful odor or smell, whether due to lack of hygiene, diet, or applied perfumes, can be considered a violation of others' personal space. The application of perfume or cologne may be considered embarrassingly overdone if their scent is detectable beyond the close personal proximity of the wearer. In recent years the smell of smoke from the use of tobacco products has also become socially unacceptable, except in areas specifically designated for smoking.

And here I’ve been walking around smelling from “lack of hygiene” asking women, “How much you weigh baby?” Oops. I'm a heathen in my own country.

Where the Hell is Matt?

I've heard of Matt and his dancing, but I just watched his video for the first time. Awesome. Almost touching. It makes me want to write sappy stuff, but don't worry, I won't.

I blame the music. If the music was funny music instead of inspiring, maybe I would want to write funny stuff. Anyhow, watch the video.

Are you and Ugly American: Part 3 of 10

Budget Travel’s tips to avoid being a jerk abroad:

Use Clear English

Why I’m apparently an Ugly American:

When it comes to trying to communicate with non-English speakers, my options are limited. Thank the satellites floating in space, everyone knows a little English. At least I like to thank so.

How my communication cookie crumbles:

"I speak good English as Second Language. I think. I try no conjugate verbs so other persons who no speak English much, understand. Yes?"

No? Let me see how I can put this.

"I speak (with one hand I motion like a puppet, with the other I point to my mouth) good (thumbs-up, big smile) English as second (hold up two fingers) language. I think (point to head). I try no conjugate verbs (scratch my head as I search for the proper way to mime this and find none) so other persons (point to puzzled listener) who no Speak English much (again, with the puppet hand and pointing to my head), understand (hold up hands in questions and give big smile)? Yes?"

No? You still don’t understand. Let me try again.

I repeat the phrase complete with eccentric sign language except this time I speak with a strange accented staccato, which even an English speaker would not likely comprehend.

No?

I give an I’m-a-big-idiot smile and dismiss myself from the situation.

I may look and sound like a fool, but am I ugly for it? Now, before anyone gets their knickers in a twist, I don’t think that everyone should speak English. I usually try to work in as much of the local language as I know, which is often slim to none.

It’s kind of pathetic - I spent 16 years in school and speak only one language. I’ve hung out with people who have had next to no schooling that carry on conversations in 4 different languages. This happened when I was in Nicaragua trying to get on the lobster boat. Some of the sailors spoke English, Spanish, Creole, and Moskito.

With that being said, I have been in few situations where I wasn’t able to communicate with someone regardless of how little English they understood and how little of their language I understood. In Bosnia I once went on a hike with a guy who Spoke Albanian and no English. We communicated through a pocket-size Enlish/Albanian dictionary. When I think back to the hike, I remember whole conversations not frustrations from the lack of a shared language.

Who needs words anyhow?

l'Hydroptere

I thought Kevin Costner’s sailboat in Waterworld was cool, but check this out…

The l’Hydroptere Greek for “Marine Wing” or English for “l’Water Peter” crossed the English Channel in record time with an average speed of 38 MPH. With 12 knots of wind, the hull, flying on a hydrofoil, is 4 feet out of the water and the crew 15 feet.

Definitely wouldn’t want to go overboard off of this one.

Jingle These

I’m spending the day researching my upcoming trip to Bangladesh. Why Bangladesh?

This is why…

That’s where my underwear were made. You got a better reason to go?

How bitter can a guy get?

I’ll let you be the judge.

To set the mood: I had spent over 2 weeks in Puerto Cabezas talking with sailors, captains, the Coast Guard, and immigration officers trying to finagle my way onto a lobster diving boat. When the night finally came the boat owner, Alberto Wu, told me I wouldn’t be going. This after I had spoken with him several times before and after he had watched me haul my gear onto his boat. If he would have shared this bit of info a week earlier, I could have made other arrangements.

What follows is word for bitter-dripping word out of my journal:

I sat on the toilet naked, my head in my hands sweaty from a long day at the dock. I pulled at my hair for lack of, and inability, to do anything better. I sat like that for 15 minutes, which is an awful long time to sit on a toilet and do nothing.

I thought how I was going to tell-off Alberto Wu. There was going to be a lot of vulgarity and hatred. Then I decided I would try an underhand “Killing with kindness attack.”

Here’s what I’d say to Wu through one of his henchman: “Tell Mr. Wu that I appreciated the dignity, the respect, and, most of all, the courtesy with which I was treated. And that I look forward to sharing his many fine qualities with my many readers (what’s a little exaggeration; as far as he knows I write for TIME) in the USA.”

Did I mention how fat he is? He is the fattest man in town. The sailors just call him plain “Gordo.” I like to call him “Gordo Alberto” or “Fat Albert.” He’s a strongly proportioned fat man. His legs seem to be of a relatively normal shape. Everything is standard up from the feet until you hit the waist. There on up the fatness explodes. It’s almost like someone set a barrel on 2 sticks and filled it with fat and stink. Rolls go all the way around, one on top of the other until they finally stack up to form Wu’s torso. On top of the barrel his head sits like a gallon jug. 2 sticks, a gusseted barrel, and a jug of milk, that’s the profile we’re working with here. His face is roughly rectangular, but rounded by fat courtesy of one large extra chin and a square-topped haircut.

---

That's how bitter.

Ellis Road

On Ellis Road I…

Grew-up.

Chased birds.

Was in a car crash.

Was sprayed by a skunk.

Invented skateboard/skiing behind a bike with a ski rope.

Learned to ride a bike.

Crashed a bike.

Lost dogs.

Was pushed in a wheelchair by my run-crazy mom.

Learned to drive.

Rode the mower to the neighbors.

Hit a brand spankin’ new white Cadillac with a juicy red tomato.

Had ants in my pants.

All of these things and more.

Norway and Iceland might be the best places to live, but life on Ellis Road wasn’t too bad.

Don't die in Adam's County

Forget Virginia and Montana. The results for the Adams Country Coroner race are in…

Clevenger-Democrat-for-County-Coroner won with 57% of the vote, despite his ridiculous campaign signs and all of Touron Nation actively smearing his name.

I feel powerless. I tried to reach out and help the uninformed Adams countians (who I’ve never met) make a wise choice for dead-person-identifier and they chose to ignore me. But hey, if they think colored chalk makes a good coroner, so be it. Don’t come crying to me when you die and your chalk outline is pink and your hips look big and someone drew a smiley face on it and added both male and female anatomy to it.

I tried.

Gore Vidal on Americans on Italians

Author Gore Vidal on the average American's knowledge of Italians (as heard on the Bob Edward’s show):

“(Americans) don’t know Michelangelo from pizza.”

The Race for Life & Death in Indiana

I just stumbled upon an article in the Muncie Star Press about the heated Coroner’s race in Adam’s County, Indiana. It turns out the challenger of Clevenger-Democrat-for-County-Coroner has a name -- Michael Seidle.

In the past 6 months Indiana’s standards for coroners have been revealed as somewhat suspect. Consider the crash on I-69 involving two Taylor University students. One died. One lived. The coroner identified the one living as the one dead. Oops. Although, Clevenger-Democrat-for-County-Coroner had nothing to do with this, it’s obvious that the people of Adam’s County (whoever they are, I don’t know any) are ready for a change.

Besides, as the Star Press says, “Practically anyone can be elected to the office.”

Seidle has a website and blog, which is something I really look for in a dead-person-identifier. He also has a killer slogan: “Put a little life back in the coroner’s office.”

Take that Clevenger-Democrat-for-County-Coroner!

While other forms of media provide you with the latest in the who-cares congressional elections, Touron Talk brings you the race for Life & Death. What could be more important?

We'll keep you posted.

The Land of Democracy

The Romans or Greeks – or some other peoples that wore togas – may have invented democracy, but we here in the USA have taken it to a whole ‘nother level. Right?

Let’s have a look at the numbers.

The % of voting age people that voted in last election (from the most recent reported figures by the International Institute of Democracy and Electoral Assistance):

Kazakhstan - 71%

Islamic Republic of Iran – 76%

Venezuela – 48%

Uganda – 74%

Germany – 75%

Russia – 68%

The United State of America (World War liberator, communist butt-kicker, home of Superman and Captain America) – 47%

OK. Maybe we aren't the badasses of democracy that we thought we were, but at least we've got this guy on our side...

Coming to a village near you...

Imagine walking into a village. Africa, Central America, it doesn’t matter just as long as it’s remote.

You probably got there by following some pot-holed dirt road. You saw a car, but it was broken down and holes were rusted in the side. There are no power lines in sight. Tonight’s dinner runs amok clucking or mooing.

You approach a building made of corrugated metal and spare 2x4’s. You hear kids chattering about as kids do. It must be a school. You peak in the window. And this is where things get real creapy…

Every kid pecks away at a laptop.

Yves Behar is designing a $100 laptop for countries to buy by the millions to give to school children. The goal - “One Laptop per Child.” Read about the project in Wired magazine.

What would this mean?

Worst case - Cultures are squashed as the children of the world become addicted to online poker.

Best case - World Peace as the children of the world obtain online degrees as pharmaceutical assistants from the University of Phoenix.

I think this is an awesome idea and I hope it comes about. It would be interesting to see how it influences cultures and international politics.

GAGgle Images

See the post beneath this one? The one with the pic of the bus? I didn't take the pic, but used Google images, as I often do, to find one that related to my posting.

Google Images is a great tool, but it sometimes makes me want to vomit on my keyboard. Such was the case as I searched for "Crowded bus" and stumbled upon an image titled "Prolapsed Uterus."

God, help me.

Are you an Ugly American? Part 2 of 10

Budget Travel’s tips to avoid being a jerk abroad:

#1 Find the local Rhythm.

Why I’m apparently an Ugly American:

On a bus in Mostar, Bosnia…

Elbows were brushed and knees were bruised, as I tried to find a place to claim as my own. Heads turned back at me, my wake of despise. Eventually I was squirted down onto the steps mid-bus.

Whew, made it, and now I’ve got this nice little spot on the steps all to myself, but when do I get off?

A few stops went by and more and more people squeezed into the bus. I’ll just step down one more step and make a little more room. The bus filled with BO and damp exhaled air.

Another stop and more people!!! Isn’t there a limit on this puppy? I’ll step down one more step.

Huh, look at that sign: Warning door hits step! I’ve been ok; I really don’t see that being a problem.

Stopped again, more people shoved into the bus. Someone call Guinness or the circus, either way we should be able to make some money off of this.

The door opened.

Ok, its opening and…ooh my foot it seems to be stuck. It doesn’t really hurt; play it off like its nothing. What is this guy doing…?

He was pushing on the door trying to free my foot. I waved him off, “It doesn’t hurt,” which it didn’t…at first. Embarrassment yielded to pain and I became panicked like an animal in a trap.

Maybe, if you push harder and I twist like this…

The man hollered to the driver.

Mummy misses Mommy

I spent my Halloween taking care of this tiny little monster who happens to be my girlfriend’s nephew.

Half mummy half 3-year-old, Jared broke his leg while fleeing the oh-so-dreaded bathtub. He flipped over the back of the couch and landed on some kind of exercise wheel. Listening to him explain the whole thing is a riot.

We played matchboxes for about 8 hours.

I spent my Halloween fearing poop. Thankfully, there was none.

Better off dead...

…than having Clevenger as Coroner!

In an effort to support Whoever-is-Running-against-Clevenger-Democrat-for-Coroner in Marion County, IN, Touron Talk presents this ridiculous campaign sign that I first wrote about a week ago.

Please note that I am not, nor do I know, any voters in Marion County. But the cause of striking down stupidity and ridiculousness must cross all political barriers.

Together we can make a difference.

The latest in Fall fashion

Got my first official Touron T-shirt in the mail yesterday from my new online store - Touron Attire. I went with the organic cotton one. Go Carbon! I have always said, the more untainted carbon in a t-shirt the better. Plus, it was made in L.A., just like the movie stars.

It was bit itchy at first, but after one washing, it’s as comfortable as any t-shirt I own. It’s kind of an off white as some organic shirts tend to be, but it’s very fashionable as you can tell from the picture.

I’m very happy with the quality. I wish they sold for less. The shirt with standard shipping ($5) was about $21. Café press offers cheaper shirts, but I kind of feel the need to go with the environmental/social friendly organic made in the USA shirts, especially since I am currently working on a project that involves the garment industry.

The shirt gets two-thumbs up. Go get yours today. I’ll keep you updated on future Touron Attire. I've added links to both my blog and website.

Have a good weekend.

Are you an Ugly American? Part 1 of 10

From Budget Travel’s tips on how to avoid being a jerk abroad:

#1 Mind your table manners.

Why I’m apparently an Ugly American:

I’m constantly reminded of my manners, or lack thereof, when I travel. In Australia, I learned from Germans that I hold my fork like I’m trying to kill my food; in Switzerland I was told how to properly convey my eating intentions to the waiter by the placement of my utensils on the plate. Regardless, I still Cro-Magnonly grip forks as if to kill, and signal to my waiter that I am done with my meal by unbuttoning my pants.

I come from a land of “Burritos as Big as Your Head.” Where tortillas are made to stuff and roll. This is not how to eat in Honduras. If you unload the contents of your plate into a burrito, roll it into the mother of all burritos, and two-fist it into your mouth as sauce and meat falls out the bottom, people will stare. They’ll turn in their seats to watch, call their relatives to describe the scene, and snap photos with their cell phones. I learned this the hard way.

The more I learn about manners and their global variety, the more I choose to ignore them and just do what feels right, while giving a big I’m-an-idiot-heathen-and-I-know-it smile.

Overseas adoption fashionable?

Each year Americans adopt 23,000 children from overseas while 120,000 plus children in the US wait for homes. Read the story here.

I think it’s good that children from developing nations are adopted and given a chance. I know a few people who have adopted children from countries like Guatemala and China; they are great parents raising great kids.

But I’m worried that all of this adoption madness is becoming a bit too popular. Name a cooler accessory in Hollywood than Angelina Jolie’s son Maddox. Dark skinned children with light-skinned parents are IN right now. In Vogue, if you will.

I can’t think of anyone -- movie star or acquaintance -- who has adopted a child from the USA recently. It seems like the only times that you hear about US adoptions are when there is neglect involved. As if the only people who are adopting from within our country are lower class people looking for the assistance and tax breaks that comes with an orphan.

Adopting a kid from overseas is an upper class thing to do. There is a lot of money involved. Visit most developing countries travel advisory pages and you’ll find warnings about illegal adoptions. Creeps are cashing in on the black market.

All of this seems to be an ethical and moral fluster cluck.

When I travel to Cambodia this spring will someone try to sell me a kid?

Let’s say you’re Madonna. I loved you in Evita by the way. How can you walk into a village in Malawi and pick one kid out of all of them? This little dude hit the orphan’s lottery, but he’ll probably blow half is inheritance on therapy.

What do you tell your local orphan waiting for a home? Sorry, kid. You’ve been outsourced.

UPDATE: If you don't think Madonna is a good mom, just ask Ricky Martin.

Budget Travel asks: Are you an Ugly American?

Touron Talk’s official unauthorized exclusive response: UP YOURS!

Read Budget Travel’s 10 most common faux paus by traveling Americans titled, Are you an Ugly American? Starting tomorrow -- and after that whenever I feel like it – I will break down a faux paus and give examples how I have been guilty of each one.

But first a short intro to the stupid subject of Ugly America…

I’ve addressed this Ugly American thing before. In a post titled The Search for Ugly America, I wrote:

As a nation we are culturally-isolated – we border as many oceans as we do countries. Unlike Europe, where a three hour drive may take you through three countries, here in the US a three-hour drive may take you from Ohio to exotic Indiana - maybe. We aren’t used to dealing with people who don’t sound like us, who don’t use our currency, and who don’t know all of the words to “Take me out to the Ballgame.”

So, we are a bit Ugly. But the French are a bit rude, the English a bit prissy, the Aussies are drunks, the Germans are perverts, the Israelis conceited, etc. etc. As humans we can’t help but label nationalities with certain qualities even if they are wrong. This sort of prejudice is not pretty, but it exists.

Castle Dracula: Podcast

(Cartoon by Geoff Hassing)

Listen to my latest podcast HERE. I don't mean to be self-derpecating, but it just might be the goofiest/stupidest/most ridiculous Traveling Touron Episode yet - which is really saying something.

AND

See pics from Castle Dracula HERE

I should be writing...

...but I’m designing an online store.

Touron Attire is your one-stop shop for official Touron products.

Stop rolling your eyes. I’m not trying to make any money at this thing. The store is through Café Press, which has a base price that all products must sell for. If a shop owner wants to make money they bump up the price. I’ve left all the prices at their original settings. So I’m making zilch. The cheapest shirt I designed sells for $15.99 ($21 with shipping), which seems kind of high, but it’s organic. I figure if I’m not going to try and make any loot, might as well use the highest quality T’s Café Press has available.

And no, I don’t really expect to sell anything. Mainly I’ll use the store for custom gifts, and things of that sort.

Please, don’t buy any shirts yet. Let me order one first to see the quality before you deck out your entire family in Touron Attire. I’ll keep you posted on new designs and any other store news.

MANGO MANIA!!

MANGO! MANGO! MANGO!

In ’04 I co-led a group of teens to Baja for a 3-week diving adventure. In between trips we went into the mountains to hang at a mango farm and help make mango jelly. We picked ‘em, peeled ‘em, squished ‘em, melted ‘em, and finally ate ‘em. By the time it got around to the eating part we were all about mangoed out.

There are few fruits out there that I know as intimately as the mango. But the mango is a complex fruit, it has many layers, almost onion-like (yeah, I know, not a fruit) really in its depth of wonders. Just the other day I learned that the mango is the most consumed fruit in the world, which inspired this fruity posting.

Do you know about the Mango?

The Mango is…

…in the same family as poison ivy and causes some people to break out.

…both Pakistan and India’s national fruit.

I love trying exotic fruits, but, I must admit, I am somewhat intimidated by them. Each fruit has a proper way of being cut and consumed. If you’re intimidated by the mango go here to learn to eat it. If you are a veteran mango eater maybe you should move on to the hedgehog cut, you know, to impress the
ladies.

Decision '06

Driving through the Indiana countryside today:

Corn fields sit half harvested, the farmers hoping for the rain to stop and the ground to dry so they can finish. It’s election season and the road is lined with “Vote for me” signs.

Wait, what did that blue one say?

2 miles go by.

Clevenger, Democrat…

A half-mile goes by.

I’ve never been through a corn maize before. I love that play on words: corn maize…shoot missed the sign again.

4 miles go by.

Clevenger, Democrat for Coroner

Are you kidding me?

A flood of coroner questions:

I never even knew that the county coroner was an elected position. Does anyone actually care what party affiliation the coroner is?

What was that drawing on the corner of the sign? What possibly could someone draw on a sign that would make me want to vote them the dead person identifier?

Do coroners have debates? “Bill, I read in the paper that your goldfish floated upside down at the top of the tank for three days before you declared it non-living. A vote for Bill is a vote for decomposing bodies stinking up the county.”

Do they have slogans? “Your dead, vote for Ed.”

How about platforms? “I promise to use colored chalk on all dead body outlines.”

Maybe I’m underestimating whatever it is that coroners do, but the job seems pretty black and white. Pulse – Yes = “He’s alive.” Pulse – No = “He’s dead.”

6 miles pass. I approach another blue sign. In the bottom corner is a poorly drawn chalk outline with arms at awkward angles. I’m not a resident of Adams County, Indiana, but if I were, I would not vote for this joker.

Touron Talk is proud to back whoever is running against Clevenger, Democrat for Adam’s County Coroner. I think they will do a better job of identifying dead people and a way better job of tracing them. I also hear that they plan on using colored chalk.

Population 300 million

In the next day or two the USA will top the 300 million people mark. Sounds like a lot, doesn’t it? But really it’s not that bad. We’ve got plenty of room. The population density of the USA = 31 people per square-KM.

I have started to research an upcoming trip to Bangladesh, a country that has roughly half the population of the USA, but way less space. The population density of Bangladesh = 985 people per square-KM.

Some love the hustle and bustle of crowds. Me, I can stand it for a bit then my insides start to quiver, then gyrate, then shake, then scream. It’s not pleasant. Give me open sky, tall trees, and empty horizons. 300 million people or not, we still got plenty of all these in the good ole’ US of A.

Manly men or idiots?

I brag about diving in water in the low 40’s. But it’s really not something to brag about. I’ve only done it a couple of times in a stone quarry in Ohio and I think I puked after each dive (biting hard on regulator = headache = puking). There’s nothing manly about being a giant wet shaking goose pimple, upchucking in a port-a-jon.

I’ve got nothing on Dimitri Kieffer and Karl Bushby. They crossed the partly frozen Bering Strait on foot. That’s right, partly frozen; they had to swim portions of it. The expedition covered 56 miles in 14 days, which might seem a little slow if you don’t consider the swimming, -40-degree temperatures, the polar bears, and the 30-foot high ice barricades in their way.

Some of my favorite quotes from Kieffer in a short interview in the latest National Geographic Adventure:

“We swam backwards so our faces wouldn’t freeze.”

“I became more concerned with cracks than polar bears.”

Once they reached Russia from Alaska their reception was anything but warm. They were detained by Russian immigration for… 54 DAYS!

The crossing was part of Bushby’s 12-year around the world walk.

Who walks across the Bering Strait? Who walks around the world?

Man or idiot?

Luggage requirements

It should have wheels, 4 of them.

I should be able to sleep in it.

If I become stranded without food, I should be able to scrounge a meal from the chips of chips, pieces of candy, and half-empty bottles of water found within.

It should lock.

Lumbar support and cup holders are preferred.

It should be big enough to hold a kayak and small enough to take camping.

After 10’s of thousands of miles it should look and smell like it did the day I got it.

It should be fashionable. The kind that looks good on the beach or in the city.

My favorite piece of luggage, my truck. Thanks for a great 100,000 miles!

More about the Lifestraw

I posted about the Lifestraw, a straw that doesn’t suck, in August. Here it is a month later and the NY Times is just now getting around to covering the story. I scooped ‘em. It’s obvious that the Times turns to Touron Talk when they want to take the World’s Pulse.

“What’s relevant to our readers today?” Says the cigar smoking editor.

“I don’t know,” says the fedora wearing reporter. “I only went to Journalism School at Columbia. I better check Touron Talk written by a freelance freethinker with a degree in Anthropology and a license to dive.”

Never mind that I first read about the lifestraw in Wired magazine.

The Times article did bring up some interesting points about what the Lifestraw does not protect its suckers from:

It is less effective against viruses, which are much smaller and cause diseases like polio and hepatitis, and it wouldn’t protect American backpackers against the parasite giardia.

Nor does it filter out metals like arsenic, and it has a slight iodine aftertaste (not necessarily a bad thing in the large stretches of the globe with iodine deficiency).

I should be writing

My Heritage.com has a cool tool in which you upload a headshot of yourself and it tells you what celebrities you most look like. James Cameron was my closest match followed by Haley Joel Osmond. Apparenlty I could be either in my 60's or in my 20's. My closest female match was Paz Vega who I don't really know much about, but know that if I looked like her I would spend a lot more time in my own company.

You have to establish a my heritage account to use the tool, but it's realitvely painless.

Magazine smaller than actual size (but not much)

It’s not often I get excited about contributing to small publications, but I’m thrilled to contribute my story about Castle Dracula to this months issue of Baltimore’s Valley Times. Before you go and think that my writing ego is too big for my ball cap – ooh big time writer writing for a publication beneath him – stop right there.

The Valley Times is really small. I mean it. It measures 4 ¼ inches by 5 7/8 inches. Without a doubt I’ve written for publications with smaller circulations, but nothing so pocket-sized.

If you are looking for a publication that you can slip in your back pocket and discreetly slip off to the restroom for some light reading, the Valley Times is it. It’s also great for finding some real estate in the Baltimore area. But be warned, the high prices will make you sh…, well, you get the idea.

In their own words:

The Valley Times is a monthly publication, established in 1986, available to the public at finer merchants, restaurants and business establishments throughout the Baltimore metropolitan area.

Each month we offer articles on current and upcoming local events, local history, day trips, people and places, gardening and recipes.

It’s cool publications like the VT that ya miss, living in the middle of nowhere like me. Not only is it cool, but – dare I say it – it’s kinda cute.

The Nina

After I saw the Nina, I had much more respect for Christopher Columbus and his crew.

I was on assignment aboard the Picton Castle a 180-foot long, 500-ton behemoth. As part of the Great Lakes Tall Ship Festival, we sailed from Cleveland to Bay City, Michigan. Many of the crew had sailed around the world; the thought of being on the open ocean as opposed to the Great Lakes made me a little squeamish. And then I saw the Nina at just 90-feet long - a high-walled bathtub with a couple of masts and a crew of 13.

No thanks.

The replica Nina, built for the movie 1492, still sails allover to this day. Life on the original was -- shall we say -- much more interesting. For starters cows swung from the rigging.

Life on Columbus’s Nina as read on the replica Nina’s website:

Life on board the Niña in 1492 was not for the light hearted. When the Niña left on any of her three voyages to the New World, her cargo hold was full of provisions, water, armaments. There were live animals ranging from horses, cows, pigs, and chickens. The four-legged animals were suspended in slings as the rolling motion of the vessel would have easily broken their legs.

Needless to say, there was little room below decks for the 27 or so crew to sleep or cook. Cooking was done in a fire box located on decks in the bow of the ship. Sleeping was on the deck and was always uncomfortable as the ship was so loaded with cargo, her decks were always awash. A lucky few could sleep on the poop deck or find a coil of rope to sleep on to keep them off the deck a foot or so.

Morbid Inspiration

In the eyes of juries and insurance adjusters, a person who enjoys the outdoor is worth more than a person that does not.

The leaves are changing. So, get off your duff and go frolic.

To hear more on How to Increase Your Value as a Person, listen to Adam Davidson’s piece on This American Life. It’s the 3^rd act, so you’ll have to FF a little, but it’s worth it. Davidson will even tell you the best way to increase your value as a person – burn.

K-Stan: Ever Wonder?

I think someone slipped something in my Cheerios this morning while I was watching CNN.

Soledad segued to commercial and then the hallucination began. A vast plain fades into a festival, the festival fades into white slopes, the white slopes fade into two men worshipping at the foot of a mosque, etc, etc. This all hints at a place full of culture and begging to be explored.

“Huh, looks nice I wouldn’t mind going there. Where is there?”

Then the TV reads- Kazakhstan: Ever wonder?

My spoon stops just short of my lips. Milk funnels down the butt of my chin.

I can honestly say I’ve never wondered about Kazakhstan. But now I kinda am.

Some Kazakh Facts courtesy of wikipedia and wikitravel:

* K is the 9th largest country and is roughly the same size as all of W. Europe.

* Kazakhstan possesses the Soviet equivalent to the United States' Cape Canaveral, where the Soviet Union launched its version of the space shuttle and the well-known space station Mir.

And you couldn’t even spell the countries name. Shame on you.

Wait, before you book that ticket to the Kazakh capital of…(hold on let me look it up)…Astana. Hold that thought. Astana? Am I the only one that has never heard of Astana? Anyhow, before you book that flight to Astana you may want to consider Wikitravels intro to K-stan:

Its lack of significant historical sites and endless featureless steppe have put many off Kazakhstan, but many are captivated by the emptiness and mystery of this goliath state.

Sounds magical doesn’t it? A regular land of wonder. I think K-stan may want to rethink their motto. I’m thinking…

Kazakhstan: Where the hell am I?

Surviving a Plane Crash

By now you’ve probably seen NY Times reporter Joe Sharkey on TV or read his story about surviving a mid-air collision and an emergency landing into the Amazon jungle. It would be an understatement to say flying at 37,000’ and colliding with another plane above the Amazon - of all places - is bad luck. In Ohio we’d probably call it piss poor luck.

The 737 that collided with Joe’s plane went down killing 155 people. Joe survived without a scratch. In Ohio we’d call that gosh darn’d good luck. But surviving a plane crash takes a lot less luck than you think.

From a recent story by the BBC:

Most people believe that if they're in a plane crash their time is up. In fact the truth is surprisingly different. In the US alone, between 1983 and 2000, there were 568 plane crashes. Out of the collective 53,487 people onboard, 51,207 survived. The advances in science and technology now mean over 90% of plane crashes have survivors.

I stumbled upon both of these stories on World Hum, one of my favorite blogs (I’ve added a permanent link). WorldHum in their own words: World Hum is dedicated to exploring travel in all its facets: how it changes us, how it changes the way we see the world, and finally, how travel itself is changing the world.

Posers

I’m working on another letter for Casa Guatemala. This one is trying to get donations to send their older students to boarding schools. To brief me on the situation, Angie, the orphanage’s director, sent me a few pics.

I recognized a few faces from my trip last year, but what really stood out was all of the posing going on. I don’t know, maybe it’s just me? When I think of orphans in places like Guatemala, I usually don’t think “High Fashion.” But put a camera in front of girls like these and look out because here comes the steely, ice cold stairs, and the perfect premeditated hand placement.

It just goes to show that a teenage girl is a teenage girl regardless if she is wearing Gap or hand-me-downs from some relief organization.

Writerly Stuff

Ahh, the business of writing - driving authors to alcoholism and suicide since papyrus.

I enjoy reading about the struggles and triumphs of other writers, so I decided I would start relating some of my own…

Struggles-

In the last two months I’ve written two publications into obscurity: The Hub Weekly of Champaign Illinois, and Glucose Magazine.

I contributed Travelin’ Light to the Hub for about a year and the column was well received. In fact, one Hub reader who has a winter home in New Zealand, after reading a piece I wrote about New Zealand, even offered me a place to stay on NZ’s South Island. He seemed like a nice enough fella, but I think he was looking for a house/pool boy…(wink, wink)… if you get what I mean. He even sent me pics - an awesome place on a cliff above a beach with perfect kayaking and sailing below. The place is almost on the level of coolness that I would consider life as house/pool boy. Almost.

Glucose Magazine was the most regular paying writing gig that I’ve ever had. They paid me to explore Ohio. The one thing that surprised me most was that there are actually places in Ohio worth exploring. For Glucose, I interviewed people about Bigfoot in southern Ohio, climbed a 90’ mast on a tall ship while sailing on Lake Huron, hiked, kayaked, and other things of this sort. I am a believer that adventure is a state of mind that is not limited to individuals that live in cool States (CA, CO, WA). I thought the idea of Glucose could be replicated in other boring states such as, Indiana, Delaware, Illinois, Kansas, etc., and maybe it could have been, if anyone would have ever sold any ads.

You know a magazine is not doing well when most of the ads in the magazine are ads about the magazine. I’m not sure Glucose had one salesperson out beating the bushes. Glucose was a good idea poorly executed.

The writing was excellent, of course.

Triumph-

I really don’t have a voice for the radio; some have told me that I sound like Matthew McConaughey and others Joe Dirt. I’ve got a bit of a nasal draw. But this weekend I recorded a piece for the World Vision Report radio program about playing soccer in a remote Honduran village (I'll post a link when there is one).

I think it went well, but I never thought I would need to do so many other things besides talk into a microphone. The engineer bailed on the appointment and I was left with a nice lady who didn’t know jack about recording. The World Vision editor called to listen and the “nice lady” wasn’t able to tap my editor into the microphone so I had to hold a phone to my ear as I talked. She couldn’t even find a stand to set my story on, so with my other hand I had to hold up my story to read. Apparently, if I looked down to talk my voice would sound even worse.

I don’t want to come across as a radio diva, but the next studio is going to have to meet some of my demands to have the pleasure of taping my nasal twang. Things like: 5 bowls of Skittles sorted by color – the purple ones to be individually hand washed and wrapped in Hershey Kiss foil; which leads us to…unwrapped Hershey Kisses; 4 bottles of FlavorSplash bottled water; two jugglers; one sword swallower; a reading stand; a nice lady that knows what the heck she is doing; and James Earl Jones to read my story.

What can I say? Me and my posse have needs.

Have a holly-jolly Ramadan

Happy Ramadan! Or is it Merry Ramadan? How about Happy Holiday for you PC folks out there?

Ramadan started September 23rd so I’m a bit late with my Ramadan well wishes, but as they say رمضان رمض رمضان!!

Wikipedia on Ramadan:

Muslims believe that during Ramadan, the revelation of the Qur'an to the Prophet Muhammad began. The entire month is spent fasting from dawn to dusk. The first day of the next month is spent in great celebrations and rejoicings and is observed as the ‘Festival of Breaking Fast’ or `Eid ul-Fitr. Allah (God) commands Muslims to fast just as Christians and Jews were instructed to fast by their respective prophets, examples being the practices of Lent or Yom Kippur.

I was in Kosovo and Bosnia during Ramadan a few years ago. When the sun went down a canon went off and prayers would begin to spill from speakers atop minarets. Depending on were you were you could hear several different half sung, half wailed prayers. Then the streets would come alive with people and shops that were closed would open.

One evening back at my hotel in Prishtina, shortly after the call to prayer, the kitchen sizzled with food and conversation. After a day of fasting it was time for some feasting. I turned in early, but it was hard to sleep. Feasting entails a lot more than not eating. No sex during the day either, which apparently was a big deal for the occupants of the rooms above and on both sides of me. First there was the noisy, over-dramatic hay rompin’ upstairs, then to the room on my left, then to the room on the right. The weird thing was that through the pillow wrapped around my head it sounded like the same starlet in each room. Eventually, I cranked up the BBC World News on the TV and fell asleep.

Looking back at the experience I can’t help but wonder if it was a hotel or a brothel.

I really need to forge some PG Ramadan memories to bump out the X-rated ones. It’s on my understand-other-cultures-through-travel to do list.

I am Superman

I took the superhero test. As it turns out, I am most like Superman. Actually, it was a tie between Superman and Supergirl. I can't help but think this was a result of my answer to the question "Do you wear thongs?" Thongs are flip-flops right? Of course neither Superman or Supergirl wear flip-flops...huh...maybe I should take the test again.

Oh, well...

In Honduras last summer I was Batman (scroll down to 7/11)

My test Results: Superman 85% Supergirl 85% Green Lantern 65% Spider-Man 55% Wonder Woman 55% Robin 50% The Flash 50% Hulk 40% Catwoman 40% Iron Man 30% Batman 20%

You are mild-mannered, good, strong and you love to help others.

Click here to take the "Which Superhero are you?" quiz...

Premature Pull Cord

This is what it looks like when a first time skydiver full of nervous energy accidentally grabs the pull cord of his instructor.

Watch the video – Premature Pull Cord. It features my buddy Justin on his first jump. Not only is it funny to see the incident, but it’s a pretty cool video in general.

As for the incident and the reaction…

If Justin’s instructor had not been leaning against the co-pilot seat, the plane would have filled with parachute, which would have been bad. To make matters worse, the gutted plane had openings in its side that could have sucked the shoot and Justin’s instructor through the fuselage.

So that’s why, when the incident occurred, the occupants of the plane collectively crapped their pants.

Lost Summers and Lightning Bugs

I wore jeans yesterday for the first time in months. Kind of depressing. I recently wrote an essay about lost summers and lightning bugs. Have a sample:

I can’t help but smile when I see lightning bugs.

I remember being barefoot and shirtless scattering across the yard with the other kids, arms outstretched, legs pumping, hands ready to snap shut gently, my focus shifting from one pulse of light to the next. Caution had to be taken to avoid tripping over the balls, bats, rackets, and lawn darts, left over from a successful day of play. Saplings that we had nursed through the dry summer and parents in lawn chairs provided their own unique challenges.

There was always that moment of questioning, Do I have more than air? Then it would happen -- yellow light filling the spaces between my fingers. A miracle!

Kosovo meets the Beach Boys

Bermuda…Bahama…come on pretty mama…Key Largo…Montego…baby why don’t we go down to…

Kosovo??

You just gotta watch this video of troops perfoming “Kosovo” to the music of the Beach Boys’ Kokomo.

I was in Kosovo in 2003 and it’s far less sunny than this sun-bleached rhythm would lead you to believe - especially in October - which makes this rendition so incredibly enjoyable. It does a great job of summing up the frustration of the locals who don’t want the UN to be there and the UN soldiers who, in fact, would prefer to be somewhere else.

Just another example of how frustrating international peacekeeping can be. If you like the song and its theme you should check out the movie No Man’s Land.

Interesting Fact

The US spends more than any other nation on healthcare and yet we rank 42nd in infant mortality.

*** I plan to comment further, but I'm crunched for time at the moment. Check back late tonight or early tomorrow for an update.***

Update: Really I don’t have much to add. I won’t even pretend to be smart enough to fashion a guess as to why this is. Go HERE to see the complete list.

The US infant mortality rate is 6.50 deaths/1,000 live births.

Cuba has a smaller IMR than we do. A real head scratcher.

Singapore has the best at 2.29, which leads me to believe that a small IMR may have something to do with not spitting or chewing gum, or even, perhaps, the usage of caning as punishment.

Why IMR is important according to Wikipedia:

The infant mortality rate correlates very strongly with and is among the best predictors of state failure.[1] IMR is also a useful indicator of a country's level of health or development, and is a component of the physical quality of life index .

Signspotting with Doug Lansky

Doug Lansky has made a career out of being the Whacky Sign guy. While browsing the bookstore this weekend I stumbled across his latest book, Signspotting. It’s definitely worth a look and would be a great replacement for that five year old Reader’s Digest on the back of your toilet.

I guess I don't really have an eye for whacky signspotting on my travels. I can't think of any to relate here.

Go, now! Look at funny signs HERE.

Doug on Doug and how you can be a part of his Signspotting exploits:

What started as an unhealthy fascination with quirky signs in 1992 during a two-and-a-half year round-the-world journey metastasized into a nationally syndicated newspaper feature in 2000 and Lonely Planet book in the fall of 2005.

With new signs going up every day, the only way to keep track of them is with an army of travel photographers - in short, you. So, the next time you find yourself scratching your head or chuckling at a sign, please snap a picture and send it in. But before you do, please take a moment to look through the submission tips so you can maximize your chance of winning $50 or even the Round-The-World ticket.

Thanks! Look forward to seeing your photos.

Doug Lansky, Photo Editor

Goodbye Key West, Hello Ohio

(My crumbling KW license that wasn't supposed to expire until 2009. Doubt it would have made it)

I’ve been on the lamb for awhile, riding the high of eluding the law with my crumbling Key West license. I have lived at 3 different addresses and in two different states with my 1401 Petronia St. license. At one point, I was living in North Carolina, driving a truck with Ohio plates, and carrying a Florida license. Ah, the life of an outlaw.

If a trooper pulled me over I was going to plead ignorance and that I had been experiencing a bout of serial homelessness for the last 4 years.

There are no good reasons that I didn’t update my license with the various moves, but here’s a list of some bad ones:

1. I could get 50 cents off my favorite pizza place in Key West when I visit
2. I could save a lot of $ on a Florida fishing license if I went to the Keys spearfishing
3. Key West, FL sounds a lot cooler than Ansonia, OH

Now, I’m officially a resident of Ohio, no one offers discounts for that.

Warped World

Know what’s great? Smart people and their mathematics.

Somewhere some smart person is plugging away at his unbalanced multi-linear differential equation (if there is such a thing), thinking up something that will make the rest of us scratch our heads and say “Cool,” at which point we’ll scratch our butt and continue with our own research – determining which nostril we can shoot Skittles farther with (have you noticed that the purple one’s seem to travel farther…me too…for the good of all mankind we should combine our research efforts).

The Worldmapper Project must have a lot of smart people working on it because their maps are super cool. Here’s what they’ve done in their own words (I’m too dumb to explain it):

The maps…are equal area cartograms, otherwise known as density-equalising maps. The cartogram re-sizes each territory according to the variable being mapped.

Here are two examples:

Toy Exports or We don't like to share

Toy imports or Gimme

I’ll talk more about the toy imbalance in a future post. Back to the maps or cartograms, if you like…

The best part is not only do you learn about the world, you can laugh at puckered continents and swollen countries. I searched their site for awhile and have yet to find a map that had anything to do with Skittles or nostrils.

The work of smart people is never done.

Scalzi on bacon on cats

I love cats. I love bacon. But I have never found a way to enjoy them at the same time.

Science-fiction writer John Scalzi, who hails from my neck of nowhere in Ohio, has discovered how to link the two – tape.

GO HERE to see what lengths a SciFi writer is willing to go, to not finish his book. Sometimes writers will do anything (blogging) but sit down at the computer and get some work done.

Somebody call PETA!

Scalzi is supposed to be putting the finishing touches on the third and final book of his trilogy. If you are hankerin’ for a hunkerin’ of space warfare, you should check out the first in the trilogy, Old Man’s War.

Here’s the opening for OMW:

John Perry did two things on his seventy-fifth birthday. First he visited his wife’s grave. Then he joined the army.

Killer Hooch

(Kaiser and Domingo playing on the beach)

In Nicaragua 35 people died and 600 are ill because of some poorly mixed moonshine. The moonshiners responsible for the deadly brew were trying to give their booze some punch with industrial strength alcohol.

This bit of news could be painted in a humorous light, and I’m sure it will, but it really is awful. Read more about it HERE.

I don’t drink often, but I can honestly say I have fond memories of drinking cheap and yummy Nicaraguan rum with Nicaraguans. When I heard the news, I immediately thought of the friends I made over a small bottle of Flor de Cana rum.

Here, have a sample (from a recent column):

Soon the four of us are sitting beneath the shade of a tree near the water’s edge. We chat about our lives and worlds. Domingo, a former cruise ship waiter, and Wycliffe, an aspiring baker, are lifelong friends who have brought Kaiser, Wycliffe’s son, to the beach to play.

Wycliffe pulls out a small bottle of rum and Domingo twists open a bottle of Coca-Cola. They have a rapidly melting chunk of ice wrapped in a plastic bag and pound it against a nearby rock. Splashes of Rum and Coke are poured over ice into two Styrofoam instant noodle cups.

While we talk, Kaiser digs in the sand, occasionally, stopping to bring us sand dollars.

Totally unexpected, a little grit of sand, lightly rolling surf, on an isolated beach in Nicaragua with two buddies and a child building cities from sand and imagination – it’s how all rum and cokes should be served.

I’m not sure about travel changing a fella, but it sure does put real faces to half-inch news blurbs.

I wonder if I would have taken a comedic crack at the Killer Hooch story if I had never been to Nicaragua?

The events I read about on Sept. 12th

I’ve never felt more American than I did 5 years ago, reading September 12th's morning paper on a newsstand’s step in Sydney Australia.

The Mile-high club

Membership fee to the Mile-High Club now only $299!

Today’s USA Today features an interview with a pilot in Atlanta who takes willing couples to 5,280 feet for one hour of fooling around. This Bob Smith, owner of Mile High Atlanta, is like no other Bob Smith you’ve ever met. He has taken his Piper Cherokee 6 and pimped it out with a bed in the back.

My favorite quote of Smith’s:

“It’s not against FAA rules to join the mile-high club.”

This story is a must read, if only for the chance to think-up juvenile, eye-rolling, innuendos. I’ll give you a couple flying terms to get your wheels turning:

Turbulence. Cockpit. Yoke. You get the idea.

(I apologize for this in advance) Kinda puts a whole new meaning to the movie title “Snakes on a Plane.”

Can you come up with anything cheesier?

In a completely unrelated event, although somewhat freakishly coincidental, it turns out I’ll be flying in my father’s Cherokee 6 tonight with my parents and my girlfriend Annie to Kentucky to go waterskiing. It’s likely that we will never reach an altitude higher than 5,280, but if we do, you can bet that there is a better chance of me jumping out of the plane than any hanky panky going on.

To learn more about the Mile High Club, you big freaking Perve you, visit the Club’s official website.

Mustard-snorting leads to mind-blowing idea

At Wrigley our seats “weren’t bad.” Of course, this means that there were few worse. Out in foul territory in left field, I could spit over my left shoulder and hit T-shirt hawkers stalking the street outside the stadium.

Unlike most entertainment/sports venues the seats at Wrigley aren’t turned toward the action. Ours faced the outfield seats. By the end of the game my neck was sore from trying to follow the on field action.

Discomfort and laziness runs a close second to drug-induced mind frenzy when it comes to producing great ideas. So, either there was something in the Wrigley mustard or our stiff necks spurred a sudden wave of creativity.

The idea…

Rotating stadium seating

Say goodbye to “weren’t bad” seats. Everyone enjoys a little sun and a little shade. Everyone gets a chance in right field to catch a Bonds homer. All fans are equal, horizontally speaking as the stands rotate around the playing field.

I'm just an idea man. Someone else take rotating stadium seating and run with it. Consider the idea my gift to the world.

Wrigley Field

I went to my first game at Wrigley Field. Awesome.

Bonds eyeing #728 . The fella who caught this ball bucked the Wrigley tradition of throwing back the opponent's homerun ball and stuck it in his pocket. Luckily a kind-hearted soal two rows behind him pulled out a ball he brought and threw it onto the field. The crowd roared in approval. Of course, we wouldn't have cheered if we knew that the fella pocketed Barry's ball. I saw it on SportsCenter later that night.

Me holding the 2nd all-time leading homerun hitter in history. He's much lighter than I thought he'd be.

My brother Kyle who landed the tickets, his bud Daryl and Daryl's father in law Ken

Me in Cubbie Blue

Croc Hunter died doing what he loved

“He had it coming,” said the expert on the Dayton, Ohio local evening news.

One would think that in Ohio there would be no experts in the deadly critter wrangling field. Sure, there is the occasional rabid raccoon or opossum, but other than that most of our creatures are of the gentle, woodland, Bambi variety. This fella is no expert. He wouldn’t know how to handle a pit viper’s scat. Why he was commenting on Steve Irwin’s being killed by a stingray is beyond me.

Anyone from this school of thought can go to Hell.

Steve Irwin is what we should all aspire to be. He shared his passion with the world. No doubt, his profession had its risk. Being poisoned, eaten, or drowned are not things that the rest of us concern ourselves with on a daily basis, but everything has its risks. Reckless behavior is taking on something beyond your training, comfort, and skill level. Reckless behavior for me is different than reckless behavior for you and vice versa.

I’m comfortable holding my breath and diving 80’ below the ocean’s surface. Most people aren’t and therefore should not try this at home.

I’m not comfortable snow skiing. If I strapped on a pair of skis, found the steepest downhill in Switzerland, and ran off the edge of a cliff to my death…I had it coming. I’m not trained to fix an electric line. If I climbed up a pole to do so and was electrocuted…I had it coming. I’m not familiar with the behavior of crocodiles. If I try to wrangle one and become eaten in the process…I had it coming.

Steve was a professional and he died doing something that he had the knowledge, experience and training to do. His death was a freak accident. I have never heard of a stingray puncturing a man’s heart with its stinger until yesterday. I would have ventured to guess that only a few people, who were very allergic to stingrays' mild toxin, had ever been killed as a direct result of a stingray.

Working for a few years as a dive instructor, I have had nothing but positive experiences with stingrays. Well, there was that one time… a student of mine did step on one and got stung in the ankle. Occurrences like that aren’t all that uncommon. He cried. Snot came out every hole in his head. He was 14. At no time was his life in danger. I’m sure he thinks it’s cool now.

In 2001 I visited Steve’s Australian Zoo. When I heard about his death I revisited my notes from the experience. Here’s a passage:

Although Steve was not there (he was in the USA on business) his character, humor, and passion could be felt throughout the park. Like everybody else, Steve’s employees thought he was crazy, but for different reasons. They recognized that his passion to educate the world about crocs, snakes, etc. was beyond normal . Last year he gave over $8 million to the Australia Zoo for renovations. That's not something a sane person would do.

A few short days after his death and Steve Irwin, “The Croc Hunter,” is being memorialized and eulogized as a great teacher, conservationist, and wildlife warrior.

He had it coming.

US LOSERS AGAIN

The US basketball team lost again! What next? Yemen dominates apple pie baking competition.

I’m really at a loss here. I did everything in my ability to push the US back to the head of the basketball world. I wrote Coach K a letter begging him to take the job, which he did. I’ve been wearing my 1992 USA basketball Dream Team I, “The only Dream Team,” shorts each day. And what happens? We lose to Greece!

I’ve been to Greece. I didn’t see one darn basketball hoop the whole time. I guarantee that Indiana alone has 1,000 times more hoops and players than the entire country of Greece. How can they beat us!

We lost 101-95.

What am I going to do? Although my jumper is sweet, my feet are slow, I’m short, my left hand could use some work, and my vertical is in single digits. I guess I’ll have to write another letter…

Dear Coach K,

You failed me! Why did you cut Bruce Bowen? Why is Shane Battier on the team? Why…? How…? Etc.