August 30, 2011
August 21, 2011
Housing Search.
Our DC housing search has begun in earnest. And we have met many characters along the way. The considerations have been many - which neighborhood? what price point? year long lease? short term? hotel? roommates? But it was not until we came across this advert that these debatable questions got tipped in a very definitive direction.
As found on craigslist, the authoritative source of housing searches:
$1000 Best. Roommate. Ever.
Konichiwa bitches. Are you looking for the most kick-ass fucking roommate that ever lived? If so, look no further. You fucking found him. I'm a 25-year-old professional marking agent with experience at bad-ass companies like AOL and FORBES FUCKING MAGAZINE. That's right! What you know about experience? I graduated from Auburn University in Alabama, and moved to NYC at a ripe, tender age of 22. After deciding that New York was a stinky shit-hole, I moved back to Alabama to cultivate a more professional experience. Why? So I can make millions of dollars and not have to post shit like this on Craigslist.
Anyway, so I landed a job with a marketing firm in Boston, and I have no fucking clue where to live. My office is located in Cambridge, so I guess I want something in that area. Honestly, I'm moving there in 3 weeks, so I don't give a shit if I have to sleep in your bathtub.
A bit about me: I'm respectful, quiet, clean and I won't bother any of your shit. If you leave shit out, I'm just like, "Oh fuck I better not mess with this shit, because it's not mine." I turn off lights. I clean toilets. Fuck it. I'll even cook for you. That's right! My dad is a chef and taught me everything there is to know about cooking southern cajum cuisine. I'll fry green tomatoes, cover them with marinated crab meat and smother that shit in bearnaise. EVERY. GODDAMN. NIGHT. Don't eat meat? That's fucking FANTASTIC! I'll make a zucchini and yellow squash carpaccio that will knock your fucking socks off.
I also read a lot. I fucking LOVE books. Vonnegut, Palahniuk, Hawthorne. All that shit. I read Tuesday's with Morrie the other day. It's a sad story, but I learned something about life, love, knowledge and the pursuit of something greater than myself. Fucking smart. Do you like movies? I fucking love them. We can watch the shit out of some movies together if you like, or go get drinks, or work out, hike, play video games or play a game of one-on-one basketball, or I don't have to talk to you at all. It's completely UP TO YOU!
Sometimes I play guitar. Are you going to love getting baked and listening to Bob Dylan and Pink Floyd? LIVE? WHENEVER THE FUCK YOU WANT? Of course you are! I'll take requests and learn any song you like, because I have the voice of an angel and the acoustical stylings of James Fucking Taylor. AWWWWWWWW SHIT YEA!
A lot of people ask me, "Hey, you're from Alabama. Are you racist?" And, the answer to that question is, no. I'm not racist or judgmental at all. I love everyone. I'm a secular humanist. I FUCKING LOVE PEOPLE. That's the only requirement to being a secular humanist actually. You have to like other human beings and want to help them for no other reason than they are human regardless of race, religion or sexual preference. WTF?!!!? Pretty fucking cool right?
I own almost nothing! I's driving my car from Alabama to Boston in which I'll be transporting two duffelbags of clothes, one laptop computer, one guitar, one cell-phone with charger, 8 pairs of shoes, one picture frame, probably some condoms and a shitload of beef jerky and Pringles for the trip. Though, you can expect the jerky to be gone upon my arrival. Unless you'd like me to pick up some on the way into the city. See?! I'm the most considerate person you've ever met. I'm offering to buy you shit already!
Am I interested in your pad? You can bet my nomadic ass I am! I only require 4 walls, a ceiling and a floor to shelter me from the elements. Other than that anything else will be considered a convenient plus. I's taking being a roommate to the next level. Email me! I'll hook yo ass up with Facebook links, background checks, credit reports, phone numbers, resumes, references, awards, sexual history, pictures of karate trophies and a list of the top 10 women I'd like to band before I die. If you want a next-generation roommate who consistently blows your fucking mind with awesomeness, then hit me up. I's ready to give you money.
As found on craigslist, the authoritative source of housing searches:
$1000 Best. Roommate. Ever.
Konichiwa bitches. Are you looking for the most kick-ass fucking roommate that ever lived? If so, look no further. You fucking found him. I'm a 25-year-old professional marking agent with experience at bad-ass companies like AOL and FORBES FUCKING MAGAZINE. That's right! What you know about experience? I graduated from Auburn University in Alabama, and moved to NYC at a ripe, tender age of 22. After deciding that New York was a stinky shit-hole, I moved back to Alabama to cultivate a more professional experience. Why? So I can make millions of dollars and not have to post shit like this on Craigslist.
Anyway, so I landed a job with a marketing firm in Boston, and I have no fucking clue where to live. My office is located in Cambridge, so I guess I want something in that area. Honestly, I'm moving there in 3 weeks, so I don't give a shit if I have to sleep in your bathtub.
A bit about me: I'm respectful, quiet, clean and I won't bother any of your shit. If you leave shit out, I'm just like, "Oh fuck I better not mess with this shit, because it's not mine." I turn off lights. I clean toilets. Fuck it. I'll even cook for you. That's right! My dad is a chef and taught me everything there is to know about cooking southern cajum cuisine. I'll fry green tomatoes, cover them with marinated crab meat and smother that shit in bearnaise. EVERY. GODDAMN. NIGHT. Don't eat meat? That's fucking FANTASTIC! I'll make a zucchini and yellow squash carpaccio that will knock your fucking socks off.
I also read a lot. I fucking LOVE books. Vonnegut, Palahniuk, Hawthorne. All that shit. I read Tuesday's with Morrie the other day. It's a sad story, but I learned something about life, love, knowledge and the pursuit of something greater than myself. Fucking smart. Do you like movies? I fucking love them. We can watch the shit out of some movies together if you like, or go get drinks, or work out, hike, play video games or play a game of one-on-one basketball, or I don't have to talk to you at all. It's completely UP TO YOU!
Sometimes I play guitar. Are you going to love getting baked and listening to Bob Dylan and Pink Floyd? LIVE? WHENEVER THE FUCK YOU WANT? Of course you are! I'll take requests and learn any song you like, because I have the voice of an angel and the acoustical stylings of James Fucking Taylor. AWWWWWWWW SHIT YEA!
A lot of people ask me, "Hey, you're from Alabama. Are you racist?" And, the answer to that question is, no. I'm not racist or judgmental at all. I love everyone. I'm a secular humanist. I FUCKING LOVE PEOPLE. That's the only requirement to being a secular humanist actually. You have to like other human beings and want to help them for no other reason than they are human regardless of race, religion or sexual preference. WTF?!!!? Pretty fucking cool right?
I own almost nothing! I's driving my car from Alabama to Boston in which I'll be transporting two duffelbags of clothes, one laptop computer, one guitar, one cell-phone with charger, 8 pairs of shoes, one picture frame, probably some condoms and a shitload of beef jerky and Pringles for the trip. Though, you can expect the jerky to be gone upon my arrival. Unless you'd like me to pick up some on the way into the city. See?! I'm the most considerate person you've ever met. I'm offering to buy you shit already!
Am I interested in your pad? You can bet my nomadic ass I am! I only require 4 walls, a ceiling and a floor to shelter me from the elements. Other than that anything else will be considered a convenient plus. I's taking being a roommate to the next level. Email me! I'll hook yo ass up with Facebook links, background checks, credit reports, phone numbers, resumes, references, awards, sexual history, pictures of karate trophies and a list of the top 10 women I'd like to band before I die. If you want a next-generation roommate who consistently blows your fucking mind with awesomeness, then hit me up. I's ready to give you money.
August 20, 2011
August 19, 2011
Back in the USofA.
---
Low - Especially Me, from here.
And on that note, I am seeking suggestions from readers about what direction this blog should take. Should I scrap it altogether? Keep it going with a new twist? What would people like to see more of - music? recipes? pictures? banal commentary? on urban planning? development? design? useless facts otherwise?
all suggestions welcome, however, consider yourself forewarned, this is not a democracy.
August 4, 2011
Zoos Get a Bad Rap.
As seen in the Lincoln Park Zoo in Chicago:
As seen in Mikumi National Park in Tanzania:
---
Music Credit:
Video #1: Mykonos by the Fleet Foxes
Video #2: Loog by The Clean
As seen in Mikumi National Park in Tanzania:
---
Music Credit:
Video #1: Mykonos by the Fleet Foxes
Video #2: Loog by The Clean
August 1, 2011
Adventures in Unexpected Places.
When people think Tanzania, they think safaris, East African wild life, and Zanzibar. Tanzania has more designated wildlife areas than any other country on earth, with one third of its surface area given over to national parks, game and forest reserves and other valuable protected spaces. And within that, there is plenty of room for diversity and adventure in unexpected settings. Frankly, one of our most impressive trips was to Udzungwa Mountains National Park back in February of this year. I realized I never devoted any blog space to this park, but found that I kept coming up short with words to describe our experience. Instead, I shall borrow from the Rough Guide to Tanzania.
---
Even with a thesuarus on hand, it's difficult to do justice to the wonder that is Udzungwa Mountains National Park, an immaculate forest-cloaked wilderness whose 1900 square kilometers are among the most biodiverse on earth. Protected as a national park in 1992, the driving rationale was to conserve the catchments on the Kilombero and Great Ruaha rivers, lifeblood of the Selous and of human populations elsewhere. The authorities of course also knew that the area they were protecting was rich in species, but just how rich continues to amaze. Forget about rare bugs and plants, new discoveries of which are two to a penny, Udzungwa still has the habit of turning up mammals hitherto unknown to science, the latest being the world's largest shrew (60cm from tip to toe), and not just a new species but an entirely new genus of monkey, which turned up at the same time it was also found in Kitulo National Park.
Like the Uluguru and Usambara mountains, the Udzungwas are part of the Eastern Arc, a disjointed chain of ancient mountains whose age and isolation, and a steady rain-soaked climate, has allowed its forests to evolve independently from each other, and quite spectacularly. But whereas most of the Eastern Arc's ranges have suffered major environmental damage over the 150 years, Udzungwa is pristine, thanks both to its unusually steep terrain (limiting human interaction to the lowlands) and taboos. Locals around Udzungwa believe the mountain's forests are the abode of ancestral spirits (a belief that crops up elsewhere in Tanzania in places along well-established primate populations), and as such they restricted access to ceremonial purposes, and for burials. To disturb the spirits or the graves, people say, will bring great calamity, and should anyone dare cut down a mitogo tree, they're sure to become a lion's next meal...The result is the only place in East Africa with an unbroken virgin forest canopy from a low-point of 250m above sea-level to over 2km high, covering miombo woodland, bamboo and lowland forest containing trees 50m tall, to montane rainforest up in the clouds.
Given its exceptionally well-preserved forest cover, Udzungwa's wildlife is rich. The park contains Tanzania's widest selection of primates, its 12 species including the recently discovered kipunji monkey, and four endemics: the Sanje crested mangabey, the Iringa (or Uhehe) red colombus, and two species of dwarf galago or bushbaby. Other primates include the thick tailed galago, blue monkey and black and white colobus. Also frequently seen are buffalo. Of elephants, you are most likely to see their droppings or patches of vegetation flattened by portly backsides. Rarer animals include red-legged sun squirrel, the recently rediscovered Lowe's servaline genet (previously seen seventy years ago), the red duiker, Abbot's duiker, Livingston's suni, bush pig, bushbuck, spiny mice, the comical chequered elephant shrew (named after its trunk-like snout), and also recently discovered Philip's Congo shrew and grey-faced sengi - a truly giant elephant shrew (a wispy 700g). Birders are in for a treat too, with possible sightings of rufous-winged sunbirds or Udzungwa partridges, both of them rare endemics. Other endemics include millipedes, a tree frog, over seventy species of spider, a gecko, a skink, and the pygmy bearded chameleon.
Rough Guides concludes: "You would be insane to give this place a miss".
I heartily agree.
---
Even with a thesuarus on hand, it's difficult to do justice to the wonder that is Udzungwa Mountains National Park, an immaculate forest-cloaked wilderness whose 1900 square kilometers are among the most biodiverse on earth. Protected as a national park in 1992, the driving rationale was to conserve the catchments on the Kilombero and Great Ruaha rivers, lifeblood of the Selous and of human populations elsewhere. The authorities of course also knew that the area they were protecting was rich in species, but just how rich continues to amaze. Forget about rare bugs and plants, new discoveries of which are two to a penny, Udzungwa still has the habit of turning up mammals hitherto unknown to science, the latest being the world's largest shrew (60cm from tip to toe), and not just a new species but an entirely new genus of monkey, which turned up at the same time it was also found in Kitulo National Park.
Like the Uluguru and Usambara mountains, the Udzungwas are part of the Eastern Arc, a disjointed chain of ancient mountains whose age and isolation, and a steady rain-soaked climate, has allowed its forests to evolve independently from each other, and quite spectacularly. But whereas most of the Eastern Arc's ranges have suffered major environmental damage over the 150 years, Udzungwa is pristine, thanks both to its unusually steep terrain (limiting human interaction to the lowlands) and taboos. Locals around Udzungwa believe the mountain's forests are the abode of ancestral spirits (a belief that crops up elsewhere in Tanzania in places along well-established primate populations), and as such they restricted access to ceremonial purposes, and for burials. To disturb the spirits or the graves, people say, will bring great calamity, and should anyone dare cut down a mitogo tree, they're sure to become a lion's next meal...The result is the only place in East Africa with an unbroken virgin forest canopy from a low-point of 250m above sea-level to over 2km high, covering miombo woodland, bamboo and lowland forest containing trees 50m tall, to montane rainforest up in the clouds.
Given its exceptionally well-preserved forest cover, Udzungwa's wildlife is rich. The park contains Tanzania's widest selection of primates, its 12 species including the recently discovered kipunji monkey, and four endemics: the Sanje crested mangabey, the Iringa (or Uhehe) red colombus, and two species of dwarf galago or bushbaby. Other primates include the thick tailed galago, blue monkey and black and white colobus. Also frequently seen are buffalo. Of elephants, you are most likely to see their droppings or patches of vegetation flattened by portly backsides. Rarer animals include red-legged sun squirrel, the recently rediscovered Lowe's servaline genet (previously seen seventy years ago), the red duiker, Abbot's duiker, Livingston's suni, bush pig, bushbuck, spiny mice, the comical chequered elephant shrew (named after its trunk-like snout), and also recently discovered Philip's Congo shrew and grey-faced sengi - a truly giant elephant shrew (a wispy 700g). Birders are in for a treat too, with possible sightings of rufous-winged sunbirds or Udzungwa partridges, both of them rare endemics. Other endemics include millipedes, a tree frog, over seventy species of spider, a gecko, a skink, and the pygmy bearded chameleon.
Rough Guides concludes: "You would be insane to give this place a miss".
I heartily agree.
July 27, 2011
Lurking Danger(s).
This is the story of Andrei and Matty getting lost. In the bush.
On our most recent road trip to Ruaha National Park we carried three guide books with us. Yes, 3. While this surely sounds like overkill, the thinking was -- we have them, so why not bring them.
En route to the park, according to the uniform advice presented across all 3 guidebooks, we made a quick pit stop in Ruaha's closest neighboring city, Iringa. We reloaded essential supplies before heading off for a couple of days on safari in the park (petrol, drinking water, snacks, and cash...). We noted our exit time (3:30pm) and reset our odometer to clock ourselves headed into the park, we figured we had approximately 3 hours driving time on 120 km of unpaved packed dirt road ahead of us. We feared we were cutting things close if we wanted to get there before dark and set up ourselves to sleep in the park before the park gates close to incoming traffic, but the driving directions appeared to be very straightforward. That is to say, all 3 guidebooks laid out simple, user-friendly directions. At the fork in the road, go either right (the so called never ending road) or go left (through many villages and towns also offering accommodation and meals outside of the park). In either direction, you land squarely at the park HQ and official entry gate. When we hit the first fork in the road, we went right, onto the so called never ending road.
Soon afterwards, we hit another fork in the road. But all 3 guidebooks said there should only be 1 fork in the road?! We went right. Then, doubting ourselves we asked someone by the side of the road and they confirmed - go right to arrive at the park. Another fork in the road. One side clearly would have driven us straight through a village. So we went right. Again, we stopped and asked someone and he confirmed, we were headed in the right direction. Our odometer was just shy of 100km when we hit a T in the road. By no stretch of the imagination could this be called a fork in the road, it was clearly a T. At this point, our skepticism gave way to full blown panic. We could no longer deny we were desperately lost.
I got out of the car and asked for directions. A million and one greetings later with villagers who may or may not have ever seen a white person before -- it was confirmed, we were really close to the park entry gate. Continue up the road this way and you will be there soon. Great. Dark was nearing, but perhaps we could still make it on time.
A brief high - ok we were on the right track afterall, too much unnecessary panic and doubt.
But if there is one lesson I have learned in all of my travels, it is that when it comes to directions people cannot and will not say - "I do not know". They give you the answer they think you are seeking. I could not shake this fear.
We pass a truck several kms up the road - the first passing traffic we had seen in hours. We ask for directions. You are going where? But where are you coming from?! If you continue straight you will arrive into Iringa (the town that we had left 2.5 hours ago...). Suddenly a white Land Cruiser pulls up behind the truck - as per usual with white Land Cruisers, it was loaded with several mzungus (white folks) and a Tanzanian driver. (Chime in the singing angels from on high) Certainly they would know how to direct us.
"Oh Sh*t," he says. Apparently there was no time for further dithering. "Just follow me," directed the Tanzanian driver. And then he took off like a bat out of hell. Our Rav4 could not keep up. The sun was setting (incidentally, this is the most spectacular sunset I have ever seen in all of my life - you know, big Africa sun and all?!) But there was no time to enjoy that, instead we were in a full blown state of panic - we could no longer see our life line out of here.
Just as we began contemplating next steps (could we sleep in the car? who is around these parts? certainly we cannot set up our tent on the road side, right!? are we safe? how much will this cost us?) we arrive at the T intersection we had left many kms ago - and the white Land Cruiser is waiting for us. ThereisaGod! They are all smiling ear to ear. "Um, you guys are seriously lost. In fact, you are about 3 hours away from the Park Gate. It is dark now. We would not recommend driving all that way tonight. We have a camp site just up the road, why dont you stay with us tonight," was the offering. Andrei and I do not even look at each other - yes! we say in unison.
So all is well that ends well. Or so it seems.
Where should we set up our tent? We ask of them. Anywhere is fine, is the reassurance. Great.
As soon as our last stake is struck into the ground, we are then informed that we can expect hippos and crocodiles on one side of us and hyenas on the other side. Oh and also, snakes love this place for some reason - and we have seen spitting cobras and black mambas here just recently. We were left to hope that they prey on the resident rats that were running amok all over the camp grounds, not us.
Let me show you where the toilet is, one white guy offered. It was a basic affair, offering nothing by means of luxury but all the privacy you could ask for. That is, until one girl emerged from the toilet and calmly announced that there are bats living in the toilet. I was surprised, I didnt see them hanging from the thatch roof. Oh no, she says, they are living INSIDE the pit toilet and they fly up at your *ss when you are squatting over the toilet. That announcement officially marked my last visit to the toilet...
But despite the lurking dangers, we could not have been more thankful about this unexpected rescue and hospitality. I wish those guys a lot of good kharma in their future endeavors and adventures.
On our most recent road trip to Ruaha National Park we carried three guide books with us. Yes, 3. While this surely sounds like overkill, the thinking was -- we have them, so why not bring them.
En route to the park, according to the uniform advice presented across all 3 guidebooks, we made a quick pit stop in Ruaha's closest neighboring city, Iringa. We reloaded essential supplies before heading off for a couple of days on safari in the park (petrol, drinking water, snacks, and cash...). We noted our exit time (3:30pm) and reset our odometer to clock ourselves headed into the park, we figured we had approximately 3 hours driving time on 120 km of unpaved packed dirt road ahead of us. We feared we were cutting things close if we wanted to get there before dark and set up ourselves to sleep in the park before the park gates close to incoming traffic, but the driving directions appeared to be very straightforward. That is to say, all 3 guidebooks laid out simple, user-friendly directions. At the fork in the road, go either right (the so called never ending road) or go left (through many villages and towns also offering accommodation and meals outside of the park). In either direction, you land squarely at the park HQ and official entry gate. When we hit the first fork in the road, we went right, onto the so called never ending road.
Soon afterwards, we hit another fork in the road. But all 3 guidebooks said there should only be 1 fork in the road?! We went right. Then, doubting ourselves we asked someone by the side of the road and they confirmed - go right to arrive at the park. Another fork in the road. One side clearly would have driven us straight through a village. So we went right. Again, we stopped and asked someone and he confirmed, we were headed in the right direction. Our odometer was just shy of 100km when we hit a T in the road. By no stretch of the imagination could this be called a fork in the road, it was clearly a T. At this point, our skepticism gave way to full blown panic. We could no longer deny we were desperately lost.
I got out of the car and asked for directions. A million and one greetings later with villagers who may or may not have ever seen a white person before -- it was confirmed, we were really close to the park entry gate. Continue up the road this way and you will be there soon. Great. Dark was nearing, but perhaps we could still make it on time.
A brief high - ok we were on the right track afterall, too much unnecessary panic and doubt.
But if there is one lesson I have learned in all of my travels, it is that when it comes to directions people cannot and will not say - "I do not know". They give you the answer they think you are seeking. I could not shake this fear.
We pass a truck several kms up the road - the first passing traffic we had seen in hours. We ask for directions. You are going where? But where are you coming from?! If you continue straight you will arrive into Iringa (the town that we had left 2.5 hours ago...). Suddenly a white Land Cruiser pulls up behind the truck - as per usual with white Land Cruisers, it was loaded with several mzungus (white folks) and a Tanzanian driver. (Chime in the singing angels from on high) Certainly they would know how to direct us.
"Oh Sh*t," he says. Apparently there was no time for further dithering. "Just follow me," directed the Tanzanian driver. And then he took off like a bat out of hell. Our Rav4 could not keep up. The sun was setting (incidentally, this is the most spectacular sunset I have ever seen in all of my life - you know, big Africa sun and all?!) But there was no time to enjoy that, instead we were in a full blown state of panic - we could no longer see our life line out of here.
Just as we began contemplating next steps (could we sleep in the car? who is around these parts? certainly we cannot set up our tent on the road side, right!? are we safe? how much will this cost us?) we arrive at the T intersection we had left many kms ago - and the white Land Cruiser is waiting for us. ThereisaGod! They are all smiling ear to ear. "Um, you guys are seriously lost. In fact, you are about 3 hours away from the Park Gate. It is dark now. We would not recommend driving all that way tonight. We have a camp site just up the road, why dont you stay with us tonight," was the offering. Andrei and I do not even look at each other - yes! we say in unison.
So all is well that ends well. Or so it seems.
Where should we set up our tent? We ask of them. Anywhere is fine, is the reassurance. Great.
As soon as our last stake is struck into the ground, we are then informed that we can expect hippos and crocodiles on one side of us and hyenas on the other side. Oh and also, snakes love this place for some reason - and we have seen spitting cobras and black mambas here just recently. We were left to hope that they prey on the resident rats that were running amok all over the camp grounds, not us.
Let me show you where the toilet is, one white guy offered. It was a basic affair, offering nothing by means of luxury but all the privacy you could ask for. That is, until one girl emerged from the toilet and calmly announced that there are bats living in the toilet. I was surprised, I didnt see them hanging from the thatch roof. Oh no, she says, they are living INSIDE the pit toilet and they fly up at your *ss when you are squatting over the toilet. That announcement officially marked my last visit to the toilet...
But despite the lurking dangers, we could not have been more thankful about this unexpected rescue and hospitality. I wish those guys a lot of good kharma in their future endeavors and adventures.
July 25, 2011
Consider Yourself Forewarned.
Hazardous Conditions.
July 19, 2011
Broken Chair.
And what would a road trip with Matty and Andrei be without an accompanying play list. Among others, Broken Chair rose to the top of the repeat list on our recent adventures. Yes, it is repeat worthy.
Beyond the lyrics, perhaps this song was particularly compelling to us in Tanzania, as its namesake represents some of our most fond everyday images, including the following (also brought to you by Sarah Markes).
Beyond the lyrics, perhaps this song was particularly compelling to us in Tanzania, as its namesake represents some of our most fond everyday images, including the following (also brought to you by Sarah Markes).
July 18, 2011
Naming of Things.
In Tanzania, the naming of things is an art form. And therein lies the joy of a Tanzanian road trip.
We started a list of dala-dala (minibus), bajaj and truck names a while back and on our recent road trip out west we passed the time with a renewed interest in on-the-road entertainment in the form bus and truck names.
Some of the names could be better classified as allegiance pronouncements which center largely around religion and football and tend to be quite straightforward: Manchester United, Barcelona, Islam, Jesus, and many variations therein.
Philosophical naming conventions can make you look and think twice, or at times elucidate a very fundamentally different worldview in this part of the world: Born to Suffer, God is SO good, !2nd chance!, no gain without pains.
And other names can just be downright hilarious, if not, perplexing: bankito, Grace & Vincent, Blue Horse, goodfellaz, Uprising, Allocation, Don't Panic: Message Sent, Double 'D', Mr. Promise, The Expendable's Full Respect, The Top Judge, Coaster for All of the Nations, AMBUSH, Doctor Bush, Castaway, Liver Pool, King Perfect, Black People, Logistika, Power (of) God, Bananaland, V.I.P. Class, B. Positive (wait, is that a blood type allegiance or a philosophical pronouncement?!).
Incidentally, this is something that Sarah Markes captures well in her Dar street level sketches. And her new book certainly did not disappoint! In fact, we have become not only proud owners of her new book, but also of two original street level sketches capturing the hilarity of naming of transportation modes.
We started a list of dala-dala (minibus), bajaj and truck names a while back and on our recent road trip out west we passed the time with a renewed interest in on-the-road entertainment in the form bus and truck names.
Some of the names could be better classified as allegiance pronouncements which center largely around religion and football and tend to be quite straightforward: Manchester United, Barcelona, Islam, Jesus, and many variations therein.
Philosophical naming conventions can make you look and think twice, or at times elucidate a very fundamentally different worldview in this part of the world: Born to Suffer, God is SO good, !2nd chance!, no gain without pains.
And other names can just be downright hilarious, if not, perplexing: bankito, Grace & Vincent, Blue Horse, goodfellaz, Uprising, Allocation, Don't Panic: Message Sent, Double 'D', Mr. Promise, The Expendable's Full Respect, The Top Judge, Coaster for All of the Nations, AMBUSH, Doctor Bush, Castaway, Liver Pool, King Perfect, Black People, Logistika, Power (of) God, Bananaland, V.I.P. Class, B. Positive (wait, is that a blood type allegiance or a philosophical pronouncement?!).
Incidentally, this is something that Sarah Markes captures well in her Dar street level sketches. And her new book certainly did not disappoint! In fact, we have become not only proud owners of her new book, but also of two original street level sketches capturing the hilarity of naming of transportation modes.
July 6, 2011
An Ode to Container Ships.
This album may or may not be named after the actual town called Celebration, Florida -- the Disney concept town located a stone's throw away from the Disney theme parks. (Incidentally, we did not get a chance to visit Celebration on our trip through Florida - despite our best intentions.)
The Disney people did massive sociological research before settling on the design they believed would capture the "ideal" American community. What is the American ideal of community you may ask? Well, according to this extensive Disney research it is as follows: old-fashioned exteriors, homes close to the road so that neighbors are more likely to interact, and a congenial old-fashioned downtown area beside a tranquil lake. No effort was spared in this creation. World famous architects were brought in to design major buildings: Phillip Johnson, Ritchie & Fiore designed the Town Hall; Michael Graves the post office; Cesar Pelli the 1950s style movie house; and Robert A.M. Stern the health center.
Perhaps Disney was onto something. The first 350 home sites sold out before a single model was even complete. Enthusiasts applaud Celebration's friendly small town feel, where new neighbors are greeted with home-baked brownies, each home is fully hooked up to all the others by an elaborate intercom system, town events are well attended, and children can walk carfree to school -- all without being a gated community as town spokespersons are eager to point out. On the other hand, detractors are quick to describe the town's atmosphere as "contrived" and "sterile." The stringent rules, including the town's insistence that all window treatments facing the outside must be white, only add fodder to the fire.
The town's detractors may have had a lot more to say when in November 2010 the body of a man was found in his home in Celebration, Florida. He had been strangled and beaten with an axe. It was the town's first homicide in its 15-year history. While the culprit was soon apprehended, the incident came as a complete shock to many of the municipality's 10,000 residents. This kind of thing wasn't supposed to happen in Celebration -- a crime-free, family-friendly throwback to a way of life that's more imagined than actual, according to Disney's vision.
According to Pitchfork, "it's unclear whether the Felice Brothers knew of that crime when they named their fourth album Celebration, Florida, but certainly that dark spot on the town's sunny exterior adds a bit of sensationalism to these songs, which examine the dark side of American spectacle." While Pitchfork gives this album a rather diluted review, calling the Felice Brothers "overeager in their experimenting" - I still think that it is well worth exploring.
And perhaps just as the Rough Guide to Florida authors encourage readers to stop by Celebration to determine for themselves whether this town's homogeneous blandness reflects an evolutionary stage of the American Dream or if it represents a touch of Big Brother or even some sort of smug cult - I would encourage Felice Brothers' listeners to re-acquaint themselves with some of the classics that made the Felice Brothers so appealing in the first place, including the much loved Roll On Arte and see if this experimentation is in fact over-eager or a welcome change.
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Sources:
http://www.pitchfork.com/reviews/albums/15401-celebration-florida/
Rough Guide to Florida
July 1, 2011
Container Ships Around the World.
Check out these amazing examples of shipping containers transformed into a new life form from around the world.
Australia
USA
Canada
Indonesia
New Zealand
Scotland
The Netherlands
Angola
Cuba
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Source: http://www.thedailygreen.com
June 29, 2011
Container Ships Among Us.
While the sight of container ships moored on the Indian Ocean somewhere near the Dar es Salaam coast line is an everyday occurrence for us, rare is the case that we get to see one of these container ships actually moving on the high seas. They are usually waiting in queue to enter Dar es Salaam's rather inefficient port system, often times for weeks, even months on end.
For anyone who has not seen one of these container ships up close and personal, I can attest - they are massive with a capital M.
We used to sail almost every weekend here in Dar es Salaam, which unfortunately seems to have been a short lived thrill in our lives here, but the more enduring thrill for me was sailing between and among these container ships moored on the Indian Ocean outside of Dar es Salaam. From a yacht (aka "tiny sail boat") below assessing the sheer size of these ships proved to be a contortionist act. Incidentally, I remember the first time I visited NYC with an ex-boyfriend and his jaw was agape and his necked craned for the duration of our visit, as he was completely awestruck by the size and height of the city. In much the same way, Andrei had to calm me down on several sailing trips.
One time, we witnessed a guy catch a ride to one of these ships on a ferry that provides transport to a nearby island. The ferry is not small by any means, and holds the capacity to carry upwards of a 100 or so people. Our ferry started to get precariously close to this container ship moored in the Dar es Salaam Bay. Suddenly a rope ladder unfurls from the enormous container ship, it must have seriously been 75 feet in length with wooden "stairs" to aid in the ascent to the container ship. A man standing at the bow of the ferry takes flight and lands squarely on the rope ladder, which then begins to swing in 60 degree arcs from the pendulum-like weight of his body. I watched in awe as he scaled the 8 story container ship. It was obvious he had some practice in doing so, although I have no doubt I bit all of my nails off in the mean time.
Interestingly, on our once upon a time regular sailing trips, we started to see "scare-a-pirates" perched on the bows of these container ships, in what appeared to be a feeble attempt to outwit Somali pirates with an ever-expanding reach and choke hold on the region. Literally, there were stuffed human like "bodies" tied to the bow of the ship. You can imagine the Somali conversation that takes place upon notice of one of these creatures. Should we? No way man, look at that lifeless watchman, it is clear these guys are prepared to defend themselves. Right, let's get outta here, QUICK! Um, right?
For anyone who has not seen one of these container ships up close and personal, I can attest - they are massive with a capital M.
One time, we witnessed a guy catch a ride to one of these ships on a ferry that provides transport to a nearby island. The ferry is not small by any means, and holds the capacity to carry upwards of a 100 or so people. Our ferry started to get precariously close to this container ship moored in the Dar es Salaam Bay. Suddenly a rope ladder unfurls from the enormous container ship, it must have seriously been 75 feet in length with wooden "stairs" to aid in the ascent to the container ship. A man standing at the bow of the ferry takes flight and lands squarely on the rope ladder, which then begins to swing in 60 degree arcs from the pendulum-like weight of his body. I watched in awe as he scaled the 8 story container ship. It was obvious he had some practice in doing so, although I have no doubt I bit all of my nails off in the mean time.
Interestingly, on our once upon a time regular sailing trips, we started to see "scare-a-pirates" perched on the bows of these container ships, in what appeared to be a feeble attempt to outwit Somali pirates with an ever-expanding reach and choke hold on the region. Literally, there were stuffed human like "bodies" tied to the bow of the ship. You can imagine the Somali conversation that takes place upon notice of one of these creatures. Should we? No way man, look at that lifeless watchman, it is clear these guys are prepared to defend themselves. Right, let's get outta here, QUICK! Um, right?
The Cost of Doing Business.
Did I mention in yesterday's post that the Dar es Salaam port system is horrifically slow?! Just as Tony Wheeler of Unlikely Destinations describes the need for freight agents (well, at least its a luxury for those that can afford such a service anyway...), I believe here in Dar es Salaam a whole spring up industry has been created on the heels of Dar's notoriously inefficient speed to get container ships into the port system, unload them, and move goods further afield.
Frankly, on a personal level, the inefficient port system of Dar es Salaam affects us most on a day-to-day basis with respect to being able to find a decent and worthy bottle of wine. Most of the wines that can be found around Tanzania are of South African origin and the majority of them have spent several months awaiting arrival into Tanzania's port system on the high seas - where they have reached boiling temperatures and have become something totally unrecognizable from their original form.
But aside from this rather petty gripe (all things considered, hey?), the consequences of inadequate infrastructure to support an efficient transfer of goods can be a lot more damaging. We have a friend here who is in the computer purchasing and distribution business. And you may be surprised to learn that most computers do not originate from Tanzania and therefore must be imported into the country (riiiight?). His job (and therefore livelihood) is pretty much wholly dependent on Dar es Salaam's port system. His stories are colorful, at times hilarious, shocking, but usually just down right depressing. Much as Tony Wheeler describes in his book, throughout history clever approaches and tricks have been employed to jump to the front of the queue, but here in Tanzania, bribery appears to be the name of the game. For private sector business, some of these "informal payments" go down in the books as just the cost of doing business, however this of course becomes a tricky paradigm. When the bribe prices become too volatile (aka unpredictable) or steep, private sector industry must at some point battle with the decision to just close their doors to doing business here altogether.
Frankly, on a personal level, the inefficient port system of Dar es Salaam affects us most on a day-to-day basis with respect to being able to find a decent and worthy bottle of wine. Most of the wines that can be found around Tanzania are of South African origin and the majority of them have spent several months awaiting arrival into Tanzania's port system on the high seas - where they have reached boiling temperatures and have become something totally unrecognizable from their original form.
But aside from this rather petty gripe (all things considered, hey?), the consequences of inadequate infrastructure to support an efficient transfer of goods can be a lot more damaging. We have a friend here who is in the computer purchasing and distribution business. And you may be surprised to learn that most computers do not originate from Tanzania and therefore must be imported into the country (riiiight?). His job (and therefore livelihood) is pretty much wholly dependent on Dar es Salaam's port system. His stories are colorful, at times hilarious, shocking, but usually just down right depressing. Much as Tony Wheeler describes in his book, throughout history clever approaches and tricks have been employed to jump to the front of the queue, but here in Tanzania, bribery appears to be the name of the game. For private sector business, some of these "informal payments" go down in the books as just the cost of doing business, however this of course becomes a tricky paradigm. When the bribe prices become too volatile (aka unpredictable) or steep, private sector industry must at some point battle with the decision to just close their doors to doing business here altogether.
June 28, 2011
Unlikely Destinations.
I just finished reading Unlikely Destinations: The Lonely Planet Story. The title basically speaks for itself. It's Tony and Maureen Wheeler's story of how they set off on a year long trip around the world in 1972 with the intention of getting the proverbial travel bug out of their systems. During this trip, they were not only bit harder by this vicious bug, but after following the "hippie trail" from England across Asia to Australia, they recognized the need for a travel guide to suit a new breed of independent travelers. A million dollar idea was born.
Thirty years later, they are the owners of one of the world's largest, most successful independent publishing companies with offices on three continents, with 400 employees, 250 writers, more than 600 titles in print and annual sales of over 6 million books.
However, it was an incredibly long and arduous road to arrive at such success. In describing yet another scenario of "getting going and going broke," Tony described his early experiences dealing with the Australian port system.
He writes:
In May, our ship came in. I attached a rental trailer to the tatty old Ford and drove off to the docks to collect our books, straight into the arms of what would be one of my pet hates for the next few years -- the Australian dock system. Australian dockers are still not the best in the world, but in the mid-1970s they were among the worst. At that time, third-world workers equipped with nothing more than some tattered ropes and a wonky plank could unload a ship ten times faster than Australian dockers armed with everything from cranes to forklifts. For many years, the docks remained a last bastion of Stone Age unionism and their institutionalized inefficiency was a prime disincentive to doing more of our printing in Australia rather than in Asia.
Long lines of trucks were always waiting at the docks and drivers, who did want to get on with the job, cursing the time they wasted waiting for the dockers to lift a finger. Until we could afford to use a proper freight agent to clear out shipments, I made many pre-dawn trips out to the docks to be the first in line when the gates opened.
---
One of my greatest fascinations living in Tanzania is the long queue of container ships that can be seen at any given time on the Indian Ocean, awaiting arrival into Dar es Salaam's sluggishly slow port system. I am in no position to compare, but I cannot imagine that Tony's Australian port system woes of the mid-1970s are any real match for today's nightmarish port system of Dar es Salaam that plagues Tanzania and several of its landlocked neighbors. Just saying.
Thirty years later, they are the owners of one of the world's largest, most successful independent publishing companies with offices on three continents, with 400 employees, 250 writers, more than 600 titles in print and annual sales of over 6 million books.
However, it was an incredibly long and arduous road to arrive at such success. In describing yet another scenario of "getting going and going broke," Tony described his early experiences dealing with the Australian port system.
He writes:
In May, our ship came in. I attached a rental trailer to the tatty old Ford and drove off to the docks to collect our books, straight into the arms of what would be one of my pet hates for the next few years -- the Australian dock system. Australian dockers are still not the best in the world, but in the mid-1970s they were among the worst. At that time, third-world workers equipped with nothing more than some tattered ropes and a wonky plank could unload a ship ten times faster than Australian dockers armed with everything from cranes to forklifts. For many years, the docks remained a last bastion of Stone Age unionism and their institutionalized inefficiency was a prime disincentive to doing more of our printing in Australia rather than in Asia.
Long lines of trucks were always waiting at the docks and drivers, who did want to get on with the job, cursing the time they wasted waiting for the dockers to lift a finger. Until we could afford to use a proper freight agent to clear out shipments, I made many pre-dawn trips out to the docks to be the first in line when the gates opened.
---
One of my greatest fascinations living in Tanzania is the long queue of container ships that can be seen at any given time on the Indian Ocean, awaiting arrival into Dar es Salaam's sluggishly slow port system. I am in no position to compare, but I cannot imagine that Tony's Australian port system woes of the mid-1970s are any real match for today's nightmarish port system of Dar es Salaam that plagues Tanzania and several of its landlocked neighbors. Just saying.
A tribute to Mr. K.
Some of our friends here in Tanzania recently invested in a fish tank to be populated with some flashy colored little friends. Once upon a time, I too took this past time quite seriously.
Here's to you Mr. Konstantinopololis.
June 16, 2011
Reverse Reverse Culture Shock.
On our two recent trips home, I have become painfully aware of my Tanzanian weight gain. Visits to dressing rooms in stores have precipitated quasi panic attacks followed by copious alcohol consumption to ease the pain (which of course foils the longer term weight loss aims...alas, its a vicious cycle).
Our very weight conscious world and obsession with body image stands in direct contrast to the value people place on weight gain here - to carry a few extra pounds is to be healthy (and wealthy). A few weeks ago, our houseboy left his first wife and quickly thereafter found a new wife. He shared this news with great excitement, saying, "the new one is really fat, just like you!" um, gee, thanks. But this was a sincere compliment as far as he was concerned.
Fair enough, different strokes for different folks. But the worst part is that I seem to have gained weight in ALL the wrong places - as evidenced by how clothing is displayed to customers in local shops.
Does anyone remember when stair masters fell out of favor in the US because of wide spread fears of "shelf butt"? Well, I can certify that this is a part of the world where shelf butt is sexy. There ain't nothing sexy about a thick wasted woman here (ho hum). This place brings on a whole new meaning to the saying "Baby Got Back."
Our very weight conscious world and obsession with body image stands in direct contrast to the value people place on weight gain here - to carry a few extra pounds is to be healthy (and wealthy). A few weeks ago, our houseboy left his first wife and quickly thereafter found a new wife. He shared this news with great excitement, saying, "the new one is really fat, just like you!" um, gee, thanks. But this was a sincere compliment as far as he was concerned.
Fair enough, different strokes for different folks. But the worst part is that I seem to have gained weight in ALL the wrong places - as evidenced by how clothing is displayed to customers in local shops.
Sari Party.
When I saw Rami and James' engagement photos, I knew this wedding would be worth the 10,000 mile trek - and boy was it! They were thoughtful down to every last detail, and nothing went unnoticed. They pored love and attention into making their day special and unforgettable for themselves and the guests alike.
Because we do not have a mailing address in Tanzania, I did not actually get to see any of the paper invites sent to guests ahead of the wedding. The evening before the wedding a friend handed me an envelope. I cried reading it. "21 Saris: Ranmali and James' Bridal Party" it read on the cover. Inside contained an invitation from Ranmali to her 21 best friends to form a special part of her wedding day. Just because she and James decided not to have an official wedding party to be part of their ceremony and celebration, did not mean that she could not have 21 of her best friends dress up in saris to match hers!
It is a Sri Lankan tradition for the bride's home to be filled with all of her female friends and family on her wedding day, not only did Ranmali invite us to spend this special moment with her, but she invited us to have her aunties wrap us up in saris to wear to the ceremony. While Ranmali looked like pure royalty in her wedding sari, the rest of us looked a little less convincing, but this wedding will surely go down in the books as completely memorable and unforgettable.
Because we do not have a mailing address in Tanzania, I did not actually get to see any of the paper invites sent to guests ahead of the wedding. The evening before the wedding a friend handed me an envelope. I cried reading it. "21 Saris: Ranmali and James' Bridal Party" it read on the cover. Inside contained an invitation from Ranmali to her 21 best friends to form a special part of her wedding day. Just because she and James decided not to have an official wedding party to be part of their ceremony and celebration, did not mean that she could not have 21 of her best friends dress up in saris to match hers!
It is a Sri Lankan tradition for the bride's home to be filled with all of her female friends and family on her wedding day, not only did Ranmali invite us to spend this special moment with her, but she invited us to have her aunties wrap us up in saris to wear to the ceremony. While Ranmali looked like pure royalty in her wedding sari, the rest of us looked a little less convincing, but this wedding will surely go down in the books as completely memorable and unforgettable.
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Photo Credit: last photo - one of the male counterpart's to (from left) Ryan, Hanni, me, Dana, Elise
P.S. Yes, those are bugs flying around in the air mid-ceremony. They are not so coincidentally called "Love Bugs" and they only come out one time per year in Florida to mate.
June 14, 2011
Ranmali and James on Fire!
And so it seems, I have run out of vacation highlights, oh but wait, except for the most important part. The entire reason for heading to the States and road tripping between Miami and New Orleans was to attend the wedding of our dear friends Ranmali and James. They have to be the most photogenic couple I know.
By wedding night's end she was dancing so hard, she danced herself into a diamond. No denying that is a lovely song.
Here's to you Rami and James! We wish you a life time of happiness together.
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Photo Credits: Matt @ Verve Studio; check out the full engagement set here
Here's to you Rami and James! We wish you a life time of happiness together.
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Photo Credits: Matt @ Verve Studio; check out the full engagement set here
June 10, 2011
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