A FEW SIMPLE OBSERVATIONS AFTER 4 DAYS IN BUENOS AIRES

Manifestacion by my favorite Argentine painter, Antonio Berni


I forget so much all the time-- and more now than I used to-- that I figure I´ll jot down a few simple obervations on Buenos Aires whie they´re still fresh in my mind. The people seem friendly and prosperous. They look a lot better than Americans overall, especially in terms of physical fitness. You definately don´t see lots of obese people around, although I see lots of fast food joints so there may be an obesity-explosion in the future. The folks look like Europeans... Italians, Germans, Brits, Spaniards... People dress really well. I think a lot of men think they have to wear suits and ties to show status.

I never saw so many hair salons in my life. There must be one on every block. There´s also a policeman on every block. These guys look different... less "European" and I have a strong feeling they may be poor provincials.

Prices are incredibly good. I just had dinner at Oviedo, the best seafood restaurant in town, totally fancy and DELICIOUS. In NY or L.A. it would have easily been a $60 or $70 meal. It came to $25.

Everyone is so helpful and friendy-- except the Bush-haters at the Brazilian consulate. This is definately a city I could live in. I walk miles and miles everyday and it feels completely safe, day or night.

I think I lost track of what relaxed was after the whole election thing. I have nothing pressing bothering me whatsoever and that feels incredibly good. I need to involve myself more in that when I get home.


UPDATE: THE BUILDINGS

Porteños-- residents of Buenos Aires-- live in apartment buildings. They are everywhere and they all have a porter/doorman/security guard. The city gives the feeling that it has been a giant contest among architects for the creation of something unique and pleasing. Like with so much I have found in Argentina so far, outward appearances are very important. The residential architecture is very much alive and exciting and gives the city a vibrant sophistication.

MY FIRST MONDAY IN BUENOS AIRES-- THE TRIALS AND TRIBULATIONS OF GETTING A VISA FOR BRAZIL

I rented an apartment in Recoleta, an upscale Buenos Aires neighborhood. The apartment is great-- kitchen, bedroom, combo living room/dining room. I´ll do all the details for anyone interested in renting when I get back. I just wanted to share some thoughts today.

I spent most of my day trying to get a Brazilian visa for my 2 day stay on the Brazilian side of Iguazu Falls. Originally I had no intention of staying in Brazil but the only hotel on the Argentine side (IN the park) was solidly booked and there was a room available in the one Brazilian hotel in the park. If you don't stay in one of those two hotels you stay about 15 miles from the park. After I became aware how much Brazil discourages American tourists I would have put up with the 15 miles, but by that time I realized that there is NO WAY to travel from Iguazu into Paraguay without crossing into Brazil (visa).

I found all this out in L.A. when I got my easy, friendly Paraguayan visa. The consul told me I also need a Brazilian visa and that that takes between 8 days and 2 weeks. I was leaving in 5 days. I rushed to the Brazilian consulate immediately. They only answer questions between 9 and 1 and it was 1:15 so I´d have to come back the next day just to ask a question.

Eventually I tricked their Kafkaesque phone system into letting me speak to a person who pretty much admitted what I was coming to understand: Brazilians are friendly and like everyone-- except Bush. They hate him, like most people in the world. Unlike most people in the world, however, their government takes it out on Americans.

At least I'll know not to take anything personally! Long story shorter, I decided to get the visa here in Buenos Aires. Easier said than done. So many lines; I hate lines. But I waited in front of the building and then in front on a computer terminal where I had to fill out documents, all intructions being in Portuguese and Spanish naturally. Then I had to wait on a really long line for an hour or so where a lady told me I had to show a ticket in and a ticket out and needed the address and phone number of the hotel, etc. When I told her I was entering Brazil by taxi from the Argentine airport and leaving for Asuncion by bus, she said if I didn´t show a ticket I couldn't have a visa. No exceptions.

The concierge at the 4 Seasons-- the hotel is across the street from my apartment and I've adopted the concierge station there-- had a great idea. She called the hotel's travel agent who issued me a refundable ticket from Iguazo to Sao Paulo to Asuncion. Meanwhile I got Aerolinas Argentinas to send me an e-ticket. Back to the Brazilian lines. It takes 3 days to get the visa once they say OK. I had to make it by 1PM. I made it with nearly 5 minutes to spare. Of course then I had to go to a bank half a mile away to pay the $100 fee. Thursday at 4PM I can pick up my passport with the visa (unless they think of another reason to deny me access).

Europeans and Latin Americans don't need visas, by the way, just the people who allowed Bush to grab the White House (twice); it's hard to fault them.

TIERRA DEL FUEGO HERE I COME-- SOME PRELIMINARIES

It's 5:17 AM and my plane takes off just after noon for Buenos Aires (via Dallas). I decided to go to the end of the world (Tierra del Fuego, that island off the tip of South America). I'm half packed and pretty much ready to go. I'll be writing about Argentina, Uruguay, Paraguay, Brazil-- well, about the Iguazu Falls part of Brazil I'll be visiting for a couple days-- and in I figure out how to get into Chilean Patagonia, there too. But I figured I'd get some preliminaries over with even before leaving.

I'm flying on American. Needless to say, even with my 100% flexible schedule, there was no possibility of trading advantage miles for a ticket (single person/first class). So I bought a ticket and upgraded. You probably know the way that works: the less expensive tickets are not upgradable so you have to buy a pretty expensive ticket and then you have to spend another $500 for the honor of using your miles. I had never heard of that before but the AA operator assured me it had been standard practice "for years." And there were other little charges. Still, after checking everywhere and wasting lots of time talking to other airlines, it still looked like the best deal.

Did you know there isn't a single English language tourist guide to Paraguay? [UPDATE: I found one after all!] There used to be one that covered Argentina, Uruguay and Paraguay but it's out of print. But what really shocked me is that several guide books on South America don't even mention Paraguay. They have chapters on every other country, even Ecuador and Guyana, but no Paraguay. When I finally located one that did include Paraguay-- in a travel bookstore-- I also found out that I needed a visa in advance. But then luck broke my way. There's a Paraguayan consulate in L.A. and, it turned out, the visa process was as non-onerous as could be. You just fill out some simple papers, hand over 2 photos and some money and off you go. The consul also told me Brazil requires a visa for Americans, who they don't like, and it takes 2 weeks. Panic.

I drove right to the Brazilian consulate. Onerous was the keyword and he was right about them being decidedly anti-American (or at least anti-American tourist). I arrived at 1:15. They stop answering questions at 1. No exceptions. Come back tomorrow. It didn't matter that I was leaving in a week and that they would be closed for Thanksgiving and that I live an hour away. And that I was there. No exceptions. There are only two hotels inside the Iguazu parks, one in Argentina (sold out) and one, a much better one from what I've read, in Brazil. I'm booked in the Brazilian one. What to do, what to do.

I decided to try my luck getting the visa in Buenos Aires. I rented an apartment for my first week in Buenos Aires in the Recoleta district and it's a block from the Brazilian consulate. If I can't get the visa in a week, I'll just cancel Brazil I guess. I mean it's hardly Brazil anyway. It's just the Brazilian side of the Iguazu Falls.

OK, I'm off to finish packing and to eat breakfast and to go for a dawn swim before heading off to the airport, Dallas and Buenos Aires (where I should arrive at 9AM tomorrow morning).


UPDATE: PITSTOP IN TEXAS

I always marvel at the ability of my friend Jane to blog and chew gum at the same time-- and to do it so elegantly. She travels everywhere all the time and blogs up a storm and runs firedoglake, one of the most admired and smoothly-functioning community blogs in the entire world. She keeps trying to get me to do learn to blog on the go. She did teach me html so I guess she could teach me bloggin' on the road too. I suspect I'll screw it up. I mean it's hard to even conceive of blogging without my ergonomic chair and wrist-rest and all my physical backup and research apparatus. And my Macs.

But here I am, in the Admiral's Club in the Dallas-Ft. Worth Airport. It was a nicely uneventful flight, short and uncrowded. And here in the lounge: free computer usage. Ah... at least they give you something for stealing the $500 just to use "your" miles! They just called the flight. I just blogged on the road. Jane will be proud.

ROAMING AND WORKING IN GHANA

This is the second installment's of Adam's first person account of his recent trip to Ghana. Be sure to read the first installment. Here we pick up the tale in mid-June.

I have done a huge amount in the last week and a half. After I emailed last I had one of the craziest/wierdest days I ever had. First I was almost arrested for jay walking and hit by at least 3 tro tros. About an hour later my friend Hugh used a public toilet. Afterwards we are walking along and this guy comes out of no where and grabs Hughs arm yelling "give me money, give me 500 cedis". We thought he was trying to rob us so we started yelling back but he wouldn't let go of Hugh's arm. I pushed the guy off Hugh and told him we weren't going to give him any money (although it may sound a little heroic & I should probably let it stay that way it really was not, we were in a crowded area). The guy kept yelling and I finally thought to ask him why he wanted 500 cedis (5 cents) which sounded like a ridiculous amount of money to ask for, let alone rob someone in the middle of a busy street. It turned out that it cost 500 cedis to use the toilet. We were both a little embarrassed and paid the man.

Thirty minutes had not even passed when we both bumped into a woman carrying her baby on her back with our back packs. The street was packed with people and there was no way to walk without collisions. The lady went absolutely insane screaming at the top of her lungs in an unrecognizable language. Her baby started crying and people started shouting. Needless to say we did not wait and see what would happen, we ran as fast as 2 obrunis with 50 pound packs on could possibly run.

A couple hours later on our way to Ada Foa we got off at the wrong tro stop (we needed to switch tro tros). We started asking around but no one understood us. One woman finally told us where we needed to be and we jumped into a taxi. I thanked her but before I knew it she jumped in the cab and was practically sitting on my lap. If this wasn't bizarre enough she started rubbing my thigh and wouldn't stop smiling at me. When we reached the tro station we thanked her again and told her we were fine by ourselves. She followed us to the tro tro and was expecting us to pay for her ticket to Ada Foa. We refused as it was 150,000 cedis and we had already paid for her cab fare. She started a huge scene in the middle of the station and started yelling and screaming and saying how we were abandoning her. Just to point out she was not homeless and looked better off then most people I have met (cell phone, name brand clothes, etc.). A crowd formed and they were all speaking in local languages so we had no idea what they were saying. It looked like she was lying to everyone and telling them that we ripped her off because we were getting dirty looks from everyone. She then told us that if we didn't pay for her the tro driver wouldn't take us. She finally stopped screaming and asked us if we were married. The tro pulled out and she slapped my arm as we drove off. WTF!

Ada Foa is a remote area on a small peninsula. We had to take an hour canoe ride to get to where we were staying. On one side was the Volta river and the other was the ocean. It was amazing to watch the local villagers fishing and their daily routines. We stayed in little huts made of bamboo. There was no floor to the hut (just sand) and the only thing in it was a bed. The place was absolutely beautiful. The bathroom consisted of a hole in the sand with a wood box on top of the hole and a small bamboo fence around it. At night we built bon fires on the beach. On Sunday I left with 3 girls and we began our trip up North.

I'm not sure if I had mentioned this before but I have really bad mosquito bites on my legs and they became badly infected. They are open wounds and a couple were really deep. On Tuesday night they were so bad that I was limping and could barely move my right foot. My right ankle was so swollen you could not see my bone. I really did not want to go to the hospital here unless it is an emergency after hearing many horror stories. I bought medicine at a pharmacy and by the next day the swelling started going down.

Anyway we reached our destination, MOLE National Park, on Tuesday after about 16 hours of being packed into tro tros. The last 3 hours were the worst. I was sharing a middle seat with no back with another person. There were 6 of us in one row and it was probably the most uncomfortable I have ever been. Half of me was on the seat and the other half was dug into a crack. Anyway we reached Larabanga and from there the only way to MOLE is to hike or bike. We rented the most rikety bicycles I have ever seen. The brakes didn't work, the tires were thin and not meant for tough riding, and the bikes felt like they would fall apart any minute. The ride was only 7 km but much of it was up hill and the sun was intense. The girls had to stop every 10 minutes to drink water and break so it took us forever.

MOLE was absolutely incredible and one of the coolest things I have ever done. The hotel was on top of a hill and at the bottom was a watering hole. From the pool you could watch elephants in the water. While we were eating breakfast a huge Baboon jumped onto the table and knocked over my coffee. Another time a Baboon grabbed this girls bag and pulled out her wallet and a granola bar and started running away. Luckily it dropped the wallet but kept the granola bar. On Wednesday we went on a safari hike with an armed guide. Guests had been injured in the past by stampeding elephants and water buffalo. Also a guide had been killed not to long ago by one of the many venemous snakes. They have Black spitting cobras and vipers. I never thought I would be so close to an elephant, literally 4 or 5 feet.

In the afternoon I followed a bunch of baboons around into the woods and got really close until an aggressive one leaped at me. There were also antelope and those huge pig looking things with the horns (i forgot what they are called). It was amazing to be so close to the animals especially the elephants. Some animals that live in the park that I would have liked to see but didn't were the lion, hyena, and leopards. It was an amazing trip and well worth the long uncomfortable tro ride.

On the way back to my village the tro driver ran over 5 goats crossing the road. It was absolutely crazy; he didn't have any expression or even slow down it was as if it was a daily occurance.

Yesterday I went to Shai Hills and hiked to a bat cave. We actually climbed into the cave and were only a few feet away from hundreds of bats which all started swarming, luckily not in our direction. At one point our guide said he didn't want to scare us but sometimes pythons crawl through where we were standing in the mud.

I am now in Accra for a couple of days. Tomorrow the political correspondant of a local paper will bring me to meet members of Parliament and said I can sit in on the Parliament session. Im having an incredible time and have mixed feelings about coming home.

Adam returned to his family's home the last week in June, after 6 weeks in Ghana. He wrote one more e-mail about the trip from suburban New Jersey (where toilets are toilets and there are no pythons.

It is really wierd being back and I miss Ghana. During my last week in Ghana I stayed in the capital, Accra for a couple of days in hopes of interviewing MP's. I had been assured that the interviews were set up for Monday morning. When I met the Political Correspondent that morning she informed me that we would go the next morning at 8:30 AM. I stayed in Accra that night and watched the Ghana vs. Italy World Cup Match. Although Ghana lost I felt that they played a good game considering it was their first World Cup match and was against Italy who is one of the best in the World.

The next morning I waited an hour and a half for the Political Correspondent to arrive. The plans were to interview members before the session started at 10:00 AM. Due to her extreme tardiness that idea was killed. I sat in on the Parliament session which was really interesting. Unfortunately afterwards all of the MP's had a full schedule and did not have time to meet. I did however have the opportunity to meet a Parliament Attorney who drafts legislation.

The next few days I spent painting a health clinic, playing frisbee and soccer with the kids, and hanging out with the volunteers. Friday night my friends flight was delayed 5 hours and this girl Tes and I agreed to go to the airport with him to wait. At the airport there was confusion regarding what time the plane would take off, so at around 1 AM he went through security and left us outside. We had planned to spend the night sleeping in front of the airport because it was too dangerous to walk or take a taxi anywhere that late. Luckily Tes starts a conversation with an Obruni in a business truck and swears that he is harmless. We ask him to take us to any cheap hotel in the area and he looks at us like we have 5 heads.

It turns out that he has lived in GHana for the last 5 years but in a luxury western lifestyle. He had no clue about cheap hotels and admitted he had never even taken a tro tro. He allowed us to stay at his loft for the night. As we drive up to his house I could have sworn we had crossed into another country. We entered a gated community, guarded by security, filled with mansions. I had no idea there were houses like this in Ghana. His company develops these communities for the
richest of the rich and he told us that many Ministers and MP's bought homes in the community. His house had electricity, a microwave, stove, oven, fridge, shower, televisions-- it was out of this world, - completely unheard of. Anyway it was kind of cool to see the rich side of Ghana. Poverty to riches and not much in between. His satelite television service is double the amount that most workers make a month.

I left on Sunday and it was upsetting to say goodbye. The kids begged me to take them with me but promised to write. I bought them notebooks, pens, and crayons and they were really excited. I also left many of my things I didn't need and would have thrown them out had the kids not wanted them. They even took my tooth brush and toothpaste. In the village most people use these sticks to clean their teeth. I gave my cell phone to Kwasi who was the forman for the building. The phone cost more money then he makes in a month and he can either keep it or sell it. Sunday before I left I sat in on the Church service and the Reverend dedicated almost the entire service to me. It was a really nice thing for him to do and I will never forget him, the kids, and all of the friends I have made. This was an AMAZING experience and I could not have asked for anything more. I would like to continue to help sponsor school scholarships to children in Kwamoso and any donations you are able to contribute would be greatly appreciated. The amount of money that it takes to fund a child's education is so minute to our standards that even $5 would be an extremely helpful gesture. (If you have a PayPal account and want to send $5 or $20 or... well, any amount, the e-mail address for Adam is ad501445@pegasus.cc.ucf.edu/) He has loaded his pictures online and if you would like please have a look.

TOTAL IMMERSION-- SIX WEEKS IN GHANA

Robert and Robin Axel are two pals from my college days. They're married and have two sons, both in college now. I think the first time I was ever traveled outside of the U.S. was when Robert and I hitchhiked to Mexico during the summer of 1967. That's a whole other story-- for another time-- and today I want to introduce you to Adam, their older son. He's a senior at University of Central Florida, a political science major with a good head on his shoulders. Like his parents, he's an enlightened liberal and, in his own words, "a strong advocate for the tight Elite grip on the U.S. as well as the World to be removed. Power should truly be in the hands of the people and not in an elite minority." What started out as a summer vacation and wild adventure, turned into Adam immersing himself in the society and culture of a country few college students could ever even find on a map. Adam got back a couple days ago. I don't know anyone else who has ever been to Ghana and Adam wrote some notes while he was there and is allowing me to publish them. It's not about the best hotels and restaurants and tourist attractions.

I am in a small village called Kwamoso in the Akuapem Hills Region. The village is extremely rural with no electricity or running water. Compared to middle class America these people are dirt poor but they are Ghana's middle class. They live in houses literally made out of mud with tin roofs. In many the mud walls are coated with a layer of cement but not all. The poor live in houses with straw roofs and the mud walls look like they are crumbling. The people are really nice and friendly. The family I am staying with always has my meals (breakfast, lunch, & dinner) ready for me & won't even let me help clean up.

Two girls from Britain are staying at the same house as I am although I haven't met one yet because she has been traveling. In the area there are about 10 other volunteers and we all meet up at night. This weekend they are all traveling to a beach a few hours away but I have an appointment to meet the Tribal Chief of Kwamoso on Saturday so unfortunately I cannot go. I am glad that there are other volunteers because it is hard to have a conversation with the locals in my village because the ones that do speak English don't speak it particularly well.

There is a school across from the house I am staying in so there are always tons of kids running around. They stare and point at me and call me "obruni" (white man). Many are amazed and run up to touch me to see if I am real. None of the locals speak English unless they are talking to a volunteer. They speak their local language so I never know what is going on. Although most people are really nice they constantly talk about me because I will hear "American" or "obruni" throughout conversations. It is really annoying at times but I should get used to it. The other volunteers say the same thing happens to them all the time.

During the week I get woken up around 6am for breakfast although I am awake much earlier from the roosters and sheep. The family I am staying with wakes up around 4am. I then go to work between 7 and 8 am and make mud bricks and help with the construction of the homes. Habitat for Humanity runs the program. It is hard and messy work and you get covered in mud. The sun here is incredibly hot and if you don't wear sunscreen you can be sunburn in 10 minutes.

I work until around 11am or 12pm because that is when they usually stop for the day because of the extreme heat. On my first day at work the other workers did not understand why I was wearing shoes. One who spoke a little English said that if he had shoes he would never dirty them and wear them   for work. Most people do not have shoes. Earlier today I saw about 20 kids at another school playing soccer bare foot. I find it really sad.

People spend the day outdoors because it is even hotter inside the houses. They cook over fires and wash their clothes by hand in basins. There is an outhouse and a small room with a bucket which is my shower for the next 6 weeks. The outhouse is really disgusting and I was told at night before going to the bathroom to shine the flashlight down the hole to scare the cockroaches as they tend to climb up the top at night. The bugs are really crazy looking and big. I saw a millipede the size of the lizards in Florida and saw a lizard here that was yellow, red, and green. The village has chickens, goats, sheep, turkey (I think it was a turkey), pigs, and cats running around all over the place. The food is really good and the fruit is so fresh. The area I am in is real beautiful and is in the hills and is covered in green.

I am using the Internet at a town that took me about 35 minutes to get to. I had to take a tro tro (small packed van) and 2 line taxis to get here and it cost a little less than a dollar for the whole trip. American money is worth so much here and everything is really cheap. You can get a hotel room for less than $5 US.

Everything is so different here and it makes me feel so lazy. The women carry everything on their heads and I've seen some carrying loads of wood and huge things on their heads. I have no clue how they do that. The strangest thing that happened to me so far was when the man whose house I was staying at was showing me around the property; he went and walked around holding my hand. The people are so friendly that you will see a lot of grown men going around holding each others hands just as friends.

I have to be very careful with what I eat and about getting bitten by mosquitoes. About 2 weeks ago one of the volunteers had malaria and another had typhoid. They are better now and still here. Malaria is no big thing here as so many people get it. They basically give you a shot and you're better in 3 days.

Somehow cell phones work in the village I am in. Although they don't even have electricity I have better cell phone service than I do in Roosevelt (N.J.); I don't get it. I bought a prepaid cell and can receive cell phone calls. Whenever I need to charge my phone I take a tro tro to this guy's house who works for the organization I am volunteering with because he has electricity. I use the cell to keep in touch with the other volunteers. It is really cheap to make local calls and costs practically
nothing.

(Part 2)

I am in Cape Coast for the weekend which is a little over 4 hours from the village I am living in. All of the other volunteers had already traveled to Cape Coast so I decided to go alone. I arrived here yesterday and am feeling a little guilty because I am staying at a hotel that has electricity and a shower with hot water. Today I toured the Cape Coast Castle and the Elmina Castle which were both used during the slave trade. Tomorrow I will visit Kakum National Forrest which is a rain forest that has a canopy walk (rope and wood ladder that you walk across at the top of the trees).

This area is nice although in the center of the city everyone has a hustle for the white man and it gets a little old after a few hours of it. When I stepped out of the taxi at the first castle about 5 people surrounded me asking me for money for their soccer team and to sign a piece of paper pledging my support. I was told beforehand they do this so when you are done with the castle they will say that you had signed pledging money and harass you until you pay. I refused to sign anything but one person asked me for my name and I was surprised to see him writing it down with a marker on his hand. I didn't think much of it until 2 hours later when I am coming out of the castle and there he is running up to me with this big sea shell which read: To my American Friend, Brother Adams Axel, Have a nice time at Elmina Castle. I was impressed by his effort and handed him 30,000 cedis ($3) but he was not happy and wanted more. I got in the taxi as about another 10 people had gathered all asking me for my shirt, shoes, backpack, necklace, etc.. some even started yelling at me.

Anyway everything is going well. I have interviewed 5 people so far for my research (2 tribal Chiefs, 2 exec branch officials, and 1 local). The interviews with the tribal chiefs are pretty intense. First I have to pay them with either money or wine for their time and then do all of these interesting rituals with them. The first Chief I interviewed made me take huge shots of this strong gin or whiskey and then made me pour glasses for his entourage.

I have adapted pretty well to my living conditions and it has become a normal thing to take bucket showers with lizards in the dark. The one thing I have not completely gotten used to, and don't think I will in the next 4 weeks, is the bathroom. The other night there were at least 20 huge cockroaches all over the room climbing out of the toilet. I didn't need to use it but the other volunteer did and had to spend 20 minutes trying to brush them away in the dark.

I am finally being called Adam now instead of Obruni from a bunch of the children I spend the most time with. Everyone loves my camera and when people see it they run over to be in a picture and when I'm taking pictures there are always kids trying to jump into it. I gave the family I am staying with a photo album of pictures from America and they love looking at it and are really interested in the country. Everyone thought (his family's) two little dogs (Baby and Onyx) were monkeys.

I am always asked to bring people back to America with me. They will say something like "please sir bring me to your country". Today my taxi driver was trying to get me to marry one of his sister's friends and bring her back with me. A few people asked me if there are black people in America and almost everyone has the perception that everyone in America is rich and are shocked when I tell them this is not the case. I have only met 2 people who like Bush and everyone else hates the bastard. I have no clue what is going on in America except that someone in Florida was eaten by an alligator and "somewhere in Florida the votes are still being counted"... lol. I think there are newspapers with International coverage but I have not been that interested to find them. I am guessing the usual is taking place: people are dying in Iraq, people are still dying in New Orleans, Big Brother has your phone tapped, Cheney's friends are buying new mansions and islands with blood money, and Bush is at the ranch sitting on his thumb. If this is not the case please correct me but I am pretty confident in my assumption.

(Part 3)

Having a great time. I am in Accra with the other volunteers. Every month there is a party for all of the volunteers all over Ghana and last night it was here. My interviews are going well and I have done 10 so far. Hopefully next week I will meet with a couple of members of parliament. A few days ago I traveled to Boti Falls with a friend and we saw 2 water falls and hiked to a cave and the Umbrella Rock which is a huge rock in the shape of an umbrella. I climbed this rickety ladder to the top of the rock and the view was amazing. It had a similar feeling from when I was at the Grand Canyon. From up there it was like "wow I'm really in Africa," looking over the forest and mountains.

Construction work is also going well and I am enjoying it. From Monday, June 5th to June 9th I will be traveling to the North with a few friends. Our main objective is to get to Mole National Park and spend at least one night there. Right outside the hotel are watering holes and elephants, baboons, and other animals get really close to you. We have a few other stops along the way and I think one includes a huge Mosque made out of sticks.

I have become really close with a few of the kids in the village as well as with a few of the local school teachers. They have given us all nicknames and mine is acoodapanu (not sure of the spelling). They say it means "man sitting under tree drinking palm wine." One of the teachers is really funny. He thinks because I live in America I know 50 Cent and wants me to introduce them.

My friend Hugh and I each put in around $25 and are sponsoring this little girl Efia to go to school. She was adopted 2 months ago and the woman who adopted her barely has enough money to feed her, let alone send her to school. There really is no point in sending kids to the public schools here because they are so bad and the kids learn nothing. The $50 covers half the year and she will start school this Monday. Her new mother and her came up to us and would not stop thanking us. They were so happy it was a great feeling. The last couple of days I have been teaching her a little English. When I get home I will try and organize something to put money together to take care of the rest of the school year as well as sponsoring this kid Isaac who currently attends the public school. He also doesn't have the money to go to the private school and he is so bright he deserves the chance at an education. It is really sad how some of the kids live including Isaac. He, along with 3 other boys, live in this really small empty room with only 2 small pieces of this thin foam to sleep on. Despite the living conditions they are always happy and it is really inspiring.

Luckily I have not gotten sick yet and I hope I don't. The guy who had malaria had a relapse and was back in the hospital for 4 days and on oxygen for a day or so. I have been being really careful. One of the volunteers is leaving this weekend so I think we are all going swimming today at a pool and will probably then head back to the hills afterwards. Tomorrow I am planning on renting mountain bikes and going on a 3 hour trail which I've heard is beautiful. My friend had emailed me last week and informed me that Bush's' approval rating is now down to 29%. Any news like this I highly encourage to be sent to me ASAP.

The other night I was at a bar with a few friends and this guy walks in blurting out all sorts of crazy things. We didn't know if he was drunk or crazy or both. But anyway, it amuses me to have strange conversations with random people once in a while so we begin talking. He tells me that he is the "INFO MAN" and he can share as many "tid bits" of information as I would like. He is stumbling all over and keeps yelling how he is the "Info Man and it is "his pleasure" to speak with me. He buys me a beer and then tells me that he is the Information Minister and although I doubt it, it is somewhat believable because his English is really good. When he tells me this I immediately think of my research and attempt to grill him with questions just in case he is who he says he is. He is way too drunk to obtain any valuable information from-- except that he is the "Info Man" and he loves sharing tid bits of information with me and that he is in control of the information. It was hilarious and the other volunteers could not stop laughing. When he finally stumbled out of the bar he left us with these wise words "make sure to sleep with your ears outside." The owner of the bar informs us after he leaves that he really is the Minister of Information and he normally is very quiet and had just come back from a party. It is really ironic that I bump into this high government official which would have been great for my research but he was too wasted to say anything worthwhile.

(Part 4)

I am on my way to Adu Foah (a beach about 4 hours from Accra) and I stopped at an Internet cafe in Accra before catching a tro tro to the beach. I have been having a great time and have had some interesting experiences since the last time I wrote. Two friends and I rented mountain bikes a few days ago. By mistake we were given an advanced trail instead of the beginners trail which we had requested. We did not realize this until we were flying down steep cliffs, dodging huge holes, and pedaling through sand and tiny paths through corn fields. In summation it was INSANE and probably somewhat dangerous. Much of it felt like complete torture especially the never ending vertical inclines-- although the scenery was amazing and now that it is over I can say I am glad to have experienced it.

The little girl started school on Monday and seems to love it as she is always smiling. I taught a couple days this week and it was definitely an experience. I taught stage 1, 2, and 3 English and math. It is completely frustrating but somewhat rewarding when a student actually understands what you have just spent 2 hours teaching.

The other night I told ghost stories to the kids and think I scared the crap out of them. I had to keep telling them afterwards that it was just a story and there is no axe murderer wandering the village slaughtering goats and killing little boys at 3 am every night. That probably wasn't such a great idea. We took them into town yesterday for minerals (soda) which is thrilling for them because they never leave the village and their families don't have the money to buy minerals... as well as the fact that there is no electricity to keep anything cold in the village.

One of my house mates, Izzy had a couple of terrifying experiences that I think are worth sharing. She was in the loo (damn Brits call the bathroom the loo) and in the middle of her business a cockroach violated her. Without getting too graphic, the cockroach climbed up the toilet while she was on it and crawled around her private area. Another night she was in the loo a snake with a white head popped its head under the door but luckily did not crawl all the way in. The next day she asked about the snake and everyone kept saying "there are no snakes, no snakes, no snakes." I think it is considered a bad omen to talk about snakes. But anyway she finally found a few people who told her there are poisonous snakes with white heads. They claim that the first bite paralyzes you and then the snake eats you. I don't know how believable this story is but I don't really want to meet this man-eating snake to find out.

Two other volunteers have malaria but, on the bright side, the guy who was hospitalized is now better and feeling good. I had made an appointment to interview an assembly member and was told to meet him the next morning. The Reverend I am staying with told me he would wake me up in the morning. I am thinking 6, 7, maybe 8 am. At 3:50 AM! he is at my door "Adams get ready to leave." I couldn't believe it; I thought it was a bad joke. So at half past 4 AM! I am catching a tro tro in the dark to go ten minutes down the street. Anyway the interview went well except for one awkward moment when I was asked to buy him a motor scooter. I have done 13 interviews so far-- 2 local gov, 2 exec branch, 2 chiefs, 6 citizens, and 1 farm owner. I have made arrangements to meet a big shot business man at his mansion when I get back from traveling and have finally got in contact with a Parliament Rep who is hopefully setting up meetings with 2 parliament members as well. I then need a few citizens from the city and I think I will be good to go. I met a police chief last night and took his contact info but am not sure if I will interview him or not. I don't know how well he will receive questions on corruption when the police are the most corrupt of all.

On Sunday I will be leaving the beach with 3 volunteers and heading off for Northern Ghana and will be traveling until next Friday. The village I am living in is starting to feel like home and I will def miss it. If Cheney has a heart attack or Bush develops malaria email me at once.

(To be continued)


UPDATE 2009: Less Than Total Immersion

Today's NY Times recommends Ghana as the place to experience the joyous African experience-- although maybe not Accra. They recommend Cape Coast, although the primary Cape Coast experience doesn't sound exactly joyful... unless you're Jesse Helms or Jim DeMint.

As I left the market behind, the traffic and crowds died off, and the closer I came to the castle, the more somber the mood felt. Ahead of me, visitors clustered close together and slowed their steps almost to a shuffle. Even the young men who had gathered at the castle gate to solicit donations for fictitious youth soccer teams spoke in hushed tones. I realized that I had just walked the same path through town that the captives took, force-marched and traded to the British for guns, liquor and other goods, and then funneled into ships.

After his visit to Cape Coast Castle last month, President Obama said that he was reminded of the Buchenwald concentration camp. It’s an analogy many have made; I have been to Auschwitz and Buchenwald, and I, too, felt the similarity. As I walked through the arched gate into the long corridor leading to the castle courtyard, I was confronting the physical evidence of tangible evil.

The castle, an imposing stone fortress of ramps, stairs, parapets and holding pens, is a Unesco World Heritage Site and draws not only a steady stream of tour groups but also many visitors, including large numbers of African-Americans, traveling on their own. The castle boggles the mind with the businesslike efficiency of its neatly laid out spaces: the dark caverns of the men’s and women’s dungeons located deep within; the bright, airy residence halls on the upper floors for the administrators and paid workers; the high ramparts lined with enough cannons to repel an armada. Kidnapped Africans were held for months at a time in the most hellish conditions. Many died in dungeons so crowded that they could not lie down.

Those who survived left through the Door of No Return-- a small wooden door built into a stone archway that led to waiting ships. I paused there, overcome by emotion. It was difficult, almost terrifying, to step through this door despite the fact that no slave has been forced through it for two centuries.

CAPPADOCIA-- BEST HOTEL, BEST RESTAURANT AND BEST SITES IN ALL OF TURKEY

Last week my friend Dave wrote a guest blog while he was staying at the Riyad el Cadi in Marrakesh, where Roland and I stayed last December. I was so happy that the proprietors made them feel welcome and treated them extra nice when they used my name. Whenever I find a really great place-- especially one a bit off-the-beaten track-- I love to recommend it to my friends. Then I'm always a little anxious about how they'll find it. (I mean you never want to be responsible for sending someone someplace that they hate, like when I told Ken and Tony about Bangkok and they called whining about what a dump the Oriental Hotel was.

The place I probably recommend the most-- and hopefully we'll soon see a guest blog from my pal Tim from there-- is the Esbelli in Cappadocia. I started traveling to Turkey in 1969 when I was driving to India. I was struck by the natural and manmade beauty of the country and by the friendliness and culture of the people. I lingered longer than I planned-- especially once I had figured out that Istanbul's Blue Mosque District was no more representative of Turkey than Times Square is representative of the U.S. And I keep going back. A real crossroads, Turkey is easy to tack on to other trips-- like to Greece, Italy, Egypt, Israel, Spain, anywhere in Eastern Europe... And I've been to just about every nook and cranny-- from the Black Sea Coast to Anatlya to the Aegean to Lake Van and all through the central Anatolian highlands. Cappadocia is relatively new for me. What a mistake I almost made! "Too touristy," I used to think. (I almost missed the Taj Mahal with the same stupid thoughts.)

In September 2004 we had spent some time in good old Istanbul-- one of my favorite cities in the world-- and I'll write about that another time. It's an hour flight from Istanbul to Kayseri. It was painless enough and cost around $75. Suha, the proprietor of Esbelli Evi had arranged for a pick-up at the airport for the 30 mile drive to Urgup. Urgup is an uninteresting town incredibly well-located in the midst of one of the most fascinating places on earth. And the hotel, just a short walk north of town is amazing. And hard to think of as a hotel. It's Suha and his mother's home, a conglomeration of homes carved into the soft tufa stone. It's partially above ground with terraces and stunning views and partially kind of cave-like. There are 10 guest rooms and some cozy, charming common rooms (with a computer or two and a library's worth of books) beautifully decorated with hardwood floors, local textiles. The best part is Suha's genuine old world hospitality; you feel like you're a guest in someone's very comfortable, very welcoming home. People get there and don't want to leave. He gave Roland and I an amazing and very large 2 bedroom suite and I think it was less than $100 a night and included a sumptuous breakfast. (A comparison: in Istanbul we stayed at the 4 Seasons, which had just been voted the Best Hotel in Europe. We loved it; but we loved the Esbelli more.)

There aren't any special restaurants in Urgup but Suha turned us on to an old Greek farm in Mustafapasha (fka Sinassos), about 20 minutes south of Urgup, called, appropriately enough, the Old Greek House. It's a large family home with lots of rooms for guest to eat in. Let me just say that in the dozen times I've been to Turkey-- a country whose cuisine I absolutely love-- the Old Greek House served the best food I ever ate in the country. And we ate there almost every day. It is so off the beaten path that God only knows how anyone finds it. We drove around looking for quite a while before we found it down a dirt road. Suha had called ahead and ordered our food each time we ate there. Everything is prepared specially for the guests. This is beyond homemade and if you eat everything on your plate, they instantly fill the plate up again. We had course after course of the most delicious fresh food and I don't think it ever cost us $10 (for both of us!)

OK, so I told you about the most incredible hotel and the most wonderful restaurant, both pretty much in the middle of nowhere. Why would anyone go to Cappodocia? The 2 main reasons: history and geography and the way they interacted. You can feel you're in the Bible one minute and in a fairy land that beats anything Hollywood has ever created the next. People flip out the first time they see Cappadocia's "fairy chimneys," which are caps of hard rock on a cone-shaped shaft of the softer tufa stone. It looks like something you'd expect at Disneyland.

In every direction from Urgup we found unique and fascinating things to see-- from underground cities, several stories deep, where people sought safety from the aggressive Hittites, to ancient churches the earliest Christians built into the sides of steep, inaccessible mountains. No matter how long you stay, there's never enough time. We rented a car, which made it a lot easier-- and made complete sense since we planned to drive south from Cappadocia to the Mediterranean Coast. It isn't easy to pick a few sites to see because everything is so unique and special. I totally recommend the ancient long-abandoned monasteries built into the sides of the Zelve Valley, the tiny churches built into what is now called the Goreme Open Air Museum, and either the Kaymakli or Derinkuyu underground cities. We would drive to our destination early every morning and then hike all day. I love all parts of Turkey but if you can only visit one place outside of Istanbul, it should probably be Cappadocia.

BLOGGIN' FROM MARRAKESH... SORT OF

I just got a letter from an old friend, Dave, who is visiting Morocco with 2 other mutual friends, Jo and Cindy. It's the first time in Morocco for each of them. He wrote to me from the Riyad El Cadi, the fantastic townhouse in Marrakesh where Roland and I stayed last December. Dave said it was ok to turn his letter into a blog.

I'm writing this to you under the lemon trees in the central courtyard of the riyad el cadi.  As I type, the electrifying moan of the afternoon call to prayer is starting to swell across the medina. We arrived last night after a flight from Amsterdam. I am staying in your room, the Piscine, and Josephine and Cindy are in the Maison Bleu.

Thanks so much for recommending this place. It's absolutely lovely. And they light up when we mention "Howie".

Here's a little excerpt from of my diary. The longer entry spent a lot of time describing our arrival on the edge of the Jamaa El Fna and the walk to the Riyad -- a scene you know well enough, so I'll spare you that bit and cut to early this morning...

As I have for the last week, I slept like an old dog. Me, who's used to three or four hours at a time, sleeping for six and seven. Very odd. What's surprising here is that you're in the middle of this incredibly dense neighborhood that stretches out at least a couple of miles in every direction from you and at night it's just dead silent. I had a crazy dream about being caught up in some very intense religous mystery (along the lines of the Da Vinci Code I think -- although i haven't read it) chasing people through all these little corridors and stairways, being warned to stop asking questions by some people and pulled into dark doorways by others who would confide some mysterious bit of secret information. I woke up quite disoriented to the sound of the morning call to prayer at 5, followed by a really amazing concert of bird calls of every description. Needless to say, it took me a while to feel like i was really awake and really here.

At breakfast this morning a fellow named Hassan from the hotel spent about a half an hour with us talking about what we wanted to see and do, and then marking routes and destinations on the impossibly complicated map of the old city -- the Medina.  A bit later we set out on our way, deciding to go visit an antique-dealing friend of Hassan's who he said was not more than 3 minutes walk up the alley. Within a minute and a half we were totally lost. I can't really describe the scene, and I know that sooner or later you just get used to it and start to get your bearings, but at first it's just sort of mind-blowing,  Turn a corner and you're in the middle of a little vegetable market where a man is selling red onions, a woman has two little piles of apricots, a moped is honking its way through the busy crowd, an old old man is leading a donkey pulling a cart full of animal hides and then another man more or less pulls you into his doorway to show you his blanket factory. Before you know it, he's led you down a dark, dark corridor and into a ramshackle room where ten or twelve men are working on looms, weaving these incredibly vibrant colored yarns into blankets and rugs. And the guy is offering you tea and talking about America and saying "you are welcome here" and about how he'll make a special price for you. It's at once stunningly beautiful, squalid, intimidating, annoying, funny and seemingly so damned authentic that the modern cynic in you can't possibly believe that it could possibly be authentic at all. I think this is the thing that, in my first day here, has suprised me the most. You travel around a bit and you start to believe that every place is more or less the same.  London is not that different from Los Angeles... Amsterdam... Chicago...  even China which in a lot of ways really blew my mind.  What's surprising is how much alike they all seem to be. You begin to expect to be able to feel more or less at home anywhere. Then there's this place which makes you realize that the world is still a lot bigger than you are. Today, wandering through the maze of markets, it made me feel quite naive. And that, in turn, made me feel vulnerable, and for a second, a little uneasy. And then again, everyone is remarkably friendly and funny. A man in a shop asked me if Josephine and Cindy were my two wives. I laughed and he laughed and he told me I must be a Berber and that he'd give me 12,000 dirhams for the pair of them and we both laughed some more.  I guess the Berber are the butt of a lot of jokes here.  A few minutes later, in another stall, Josephine was considering buying some old tins.  She pulled me in to talk to the seller who was asking 400 dirhams and he asked me to tell him my price.  When I said she would pay 200 for them, he looked and me and said I must be Berber. I said, "Berber? Why? Because I'm cheap?" To which he replied, "Cheap!  Yes." And laughed.

Yesterday I had to abandon the girls and retreat to the Riyad after I couldn't absorb any more shopping.  A couple of hours later they returned with a tale of Josephine nearly getting into it with a passive agressive t-shirt seller who, after apparently some time spent chatting, offering tea and showing the goods, felt that her price was insulting.  He said something along the lines of "Are you a little crazy in the head?" and at some point put the shirts in a bag and threw them at her telling her, "Fine! Just take them American. Just take them for nothing."  I sort of wish I'd seen it and then again I'm really glad I wasn't there.

Today I think we're headed to some gardens and a supermarket.

Oh, and we had a wonderful dinner at El Fassia last night.

Anyway, thanks again Howie.  We feel a little like you're here with us.

UPDATE: 36 HOURS IN MARRAKESH-- TOO EXPRESS

Today's NY Times is right about one thing: Marrakesh is cool. Their vision of why... kind of superficial. Hey, but superficial people have a right to discover cool places too (and destroy them for everyone else).

VISITING NEPAL AGAIN-- STILL KIND OF LIKE SHANGRI-LA

When I left London in my VW van in 1969 my goal was Nepal. The combined allure of the Himalayas, Shangri-la and Buddhism had been knocking around in my drug-addled brain for all my teenage years. Between Nixon in the White House and American troops in Vietnam, I figured mankind had no future and I better get to Nepal now or I'd never see it. 1969 was also the year I started the long, hard process of kicking drug dependence. By the time I got to Nepal in 1971 I had pretty much kicked drugs-- although, for sociological reasons, how could anyone possibly resist sampling the hash parlors along Hippie Street? I didn't. But after that I really did kick drugs.

Anyway, my 2-3 months in Nepal became part of my personal lifestory and the wondrous tales about climbing in the Himalayas and about how primitive and backward and peaceful and enlightened I found Nepal were things I talked about a lot. A few of my more intrepid friends wanted to go. And some did. Many years later, when I was living back in America, Nepal was as much a dream for Roland as it had been for me when I was his age and it didn't take much for him to convince me that we should go visit Kathmandu. Today when I woke up and saw the violence in the streets I felt very sad for this peaceful, enlightened, beautiful little corner of the world.

It's funny, I remember more specifics about my 1971 visit than I do about the more recent trip! Although a trip to a place like Nepal has always got to be exciting, I think I remember 1971 more clearly because I drove, I had no money-- my van literally rolled down the last Himalaya into the Kathmandu Valley and I had not a cent to my name-- and I had no choice but to be close to the ground and open myself up to all sorts of adventures.

I guess the two most memorable specific events I recall-- both vividly-- fall into this category, even more than trekking to the base camp of Mount Everest! One involved happening on a neighborhood "hootenanny." Each square block in Kathmandu surrounded the neighborhood temple and at night the baker and the candlestick maker and everyone else would come out and play transcendental music on the temple portico into the wee hours. Those nights will be with me forever. Unfortunately, so will the other adventure. As I was driving back to India after a few months in Nepal, in preparation for a return to Europe after a couple years driving around Asia, I had to ford a stream. My van-- which was both my home and my transportation-- started floating downstream. Some truck drivers lasso-ed me and pulled the van to safety.

In the 90's when Roland and I went, we flew and we stayed in hotels. A great time for sure. But... well, nothing is ever the same. We flew into Bombay (now Mumbai) in late November on Delta, which was a decent airline back then (now it completely sucks, ripping off and cheating its customers in a desperate and pitiful struggle to stay alive). We stayed at the Taj, the grandest and most venerable hotel in Bombay. It's laden with history and antiques and it's right on the water next to The Gateway. It was the hub of some kind of upper class social life, although I recall rooms being around $200. At one point the electricity went out for a long few hours, a drag because ac is a must and we were on a high floor. But poor Roland was in the shower when the power went out and suddenly raw sewage started coming out of the spigot. And Roland is a very fastidious person. He'll never forget that; I'll stick with the Nepali hootenannies.

I don't want to make this a blog about India so I'll cut to the chase. We flew to New Delhi, hung out for a few days and then took a Royal Nepal Air flight to Kathmandu. It's a short, cheap flight, like about an hour. The hotel, The Yak and Yeti, sent a car for us. It was a souped up Hyundai-- like a low-rider deal-- driven by a couple of kids playing rock music cassettes. It was already night but it felt kind of like going home for me-- and I could feel how excited Roland was as we drove into town. So different from the first time I was there-- right after they had paved a road in honor of the crown prince's marriage-- but there is still something timeless about the Kathmandu Valley that I picked right up on.

I could only dream of places like the Yak and Yeti when I was a poor hippie in a van. It seemed like a paradise inside paradise. But, although a contender for "best hotel" in town, it's kind of a dump. Durbar Marg is a kind of upscale area but it doesn't have a lot of personality. Fortunately it's an easy walk to anyplace you could ever want to go in town. We had booked in advance and negotiated a bit and I think we paid something like $125 for both of us and got an upgraded room. The hotel doesn't have much character, just mostly a faceless grand Asian hotel... but this is Nepal and nothing is too grand (except the temples). Anyway, it was worth the dough and we couldn't wait to hit the streets-- me to recapture my 70's adventure, Roland to experience first hand what he had heard about for years.

Neither of us got what we were looking for, of course. But it was actually pretty awesome. We headed over to the Durbar Square area which is honey-combed with temples. The streets were dark and empty and we both got right into the exoticness of it. The packs of stray dogs wandering around didn't make us feel that great but we definitely knew we were in a foreign place, a very foreign place.

The food in Nepal is ok-- kind of like Indian food but cruder. We never found anything amazing but it was all ok. I had a recollection of having eaten in a fancy, yummy place called Boris' when I was a kid. I think it is now called the Chimney Room of the Yak and Yeti and it was founded and run by a Russian émigré name Boris. It's neither fancy nor yummy, except by Nepali standards. They serve Russian food of course. The best Japanese restaurant in town, Fuji, is also very modest but the food was decent and it was very inexpensive for a version of fine dining. Other than that we stuck to modest Nepali restaurants and to the hippie expat hang-outs in Thamel. It's not a foodie place.

It is a great, amazing, phenomenal walking around place. And that's what we did for 10 days. December in the Himalayas... brrrrr... right? No. It's in the Valley and very temperate-- sort of like California weather almost. We stuck mostly to Kathmandu, Patan (an ancient suburb) and Bhaktapur, also nearby. Each one was more wondrous and fantastic than the next-- just magical. The whole place is a living museum. The past is still living and breathing and coexisting with today and every narrow alley and every square is a unique and exotic world.

Because I had talked about it for so long, Roland insisted that the first thing we do the first morning was to go to the legendary Monkey Temple. Turns out, only I called it the Monkey Temple. It is actually the most venerable temple in Kathmandu and it is known as Swayambunth Stupa. Its a little out of town on top of a forested hill with hundreds of stairs to the top. When I was first there the monkeys were pretty wild and threatening. They're a lot tamer now. But it's still quite the schlep to the top; there's a way to drive to the top around back but that's for pussies. Supposedly it's 2,000 years old. The place is crawling with pilgrims (not tourists) and the top is temple upon temple upon shrine upon shrine. It's was amazing-- and totally worth the exhausting climb. We went to a million temples in Nepal but Swayambunth Stupa was our fave.

A close second was the temple complex on Durbar Square in Patan. We loved Patan; it's even more remote from western civilization that Kathmandu itself. We couldn't get enough of it. We traded our airline toiletries kits for thankas. Durbar Square has a royal palace, the Monkey God temple (Hanuman) and temple after temple, each one fascinating and beautiful. We flipped over the Krishna Mandir but there had to have been a dozen at least and it was completely amazing and engrossing.

The next day we went to Bhaktapur, a little further away-- not just geographically, but further back in time as well. It was like going into ancient history, even more so than Patan. (By the time Kathmandu was seeing almost cosmopolitan in comparison). It's about an hour from Kathmandu. We took a bus there for less than a buck for both of us and a taxi back for about $5. The Durbar Square there is more open and has less temples but one is amazing-- a 5-tiered pagoda, Nyatapola.

We did some shopping although didn't really buy much. I picked up another Tibetan rug at the refugee center near Patan and we had fun learning about thankas and buying some and trading for some. Mostly we just loved interacting with the people in their environment. One day we took a bus out to Nagarkot for a spectacular view of the Himalayas and some walking and one of the most amazing sunsets I've ever seen. There's a bus from Bhaktapur and it takes a couple hours and costs about a buck. You'll never forget the sights you see from Nagarkot, especially if you hike about a mile out of town to a place where you can see Everest.

FEAR OF FLYING? ANOTHER BUSH CRONY PREPARES THE GROUND FOR DISASTER-- THIS TIME AT THE FAA

Airplanes and Bush just never were a good mix. First he was a disaster as a disgruntled, mostly AWOL semi-member of the Texas Air National Guard. Even worse-- for America-- Bush's pig-headedness about paying attention to President Clinton and his outgoing administration's dire warnings regarding the dangers posed by Al Qaeda were contributory to the catastrophe of 9-11. And now Bush is setting up an airline catastrophe that could be even worse! Even Bush's rubber-stamp congress can nip this one in the bud.

Right in line with the Bush Regime's seething hatred for working men and women exercising their rights to collective bargaining, as of last week, the Federal Aviation Administration (FAA) has broken off contract talks with the National Air Traffic Controllers Association (NATCA) that would have saved taxpayers, $1.4 BILLION over the next five years.

Air traffic controllers (ATCs), for those who don’t follow aviation, are the folks who guide planes the second they leave the gate to your destination.  Their job is one of the most stressful in the world yet they remain dedicated and hardworking public servants. They’ve been negotiating with the FAA since September 2005.  According to FAA Administrator and Bush-appointed crony Marion Blakey, the FAA wants a “fair” contract that would save taxpayers money.  What part of $1.4 billion in savings Ms Blakey and Bush don't get no one quite understands.

If that’s not bad enough, here’s something else I didn’t realize. So the FAA broke off contract talks and submitted a contract to Congress. If Congress doesn’t act within 60 calendar days-- and we know how lazy and unwilling to put in an honest week's work these people have been for the last 5 years-- the FAA gets to impose their contract on NATCA-- take it or leave it.

So in other words, these dedicated controllers are forced to take whatever the FAA gives them (and, from what I'm hearing from my sources, it's a steaming pile of crap). To make matters worse, the FAA’s version actually penalizes veteran controllers for staying-– creating a situation where it makes more financial sense for eligible controllers to retire than to stay in their vital jobs. By end of 2007, 1 in 4 controllers-– over 4,000-- could retire – and the problem would increase for the next five years by which time over 40% of current controllers will actually be penalized for staying in their jobs.  

BTW, it takes 3-5 years to train an air traffic controller. Unlike most jobs where you can fill the spot immediately with someone new, ATCs take months (and sometimes a year) to learn new positions.  The aviation system is already experiencing a staffing crisis which you can read more about here. Although it may not have dawned on this particular incompetent Bush crony with a fancy job, penalizing veteran controllers if they come to work certainly won’t help the situation. 

I hope this is all getting you as pissed off as I am. That's because, like I said, this could be nipped in the bud. If you go to this site it'll help you contact your congresscritters and tell them to get off their duffs s-- BEFORE this turns into another Bush disaster.

Remember, these are the professionals who landed almost 4,500 airplanes within a matter of minutes on September 11th. And they're the same people who lost their homes and belongings during Hurricane Katrina, Rita, and Wilma but stayed at work to make sure others were lifted to safety – they are heroes. Don’t we owe it to them? Or is it just Bush playing President on Air Force One that deserves a safe flying experience? John Carr, NATCA's president has a cool blog you might want to check out-- entertaining and informative.

EGYPT-- MORE THAN JUST THE PYRAMIDS?

I have to admit, Egypt has always been a destination I've dreamed of, like since I was a kid even. I mean, in our culture-- replete with Bible stories, mummy movies, Napoleon, Israel, hi-tech aliens building pyramids, Cleopatra-- how could it not be? And if you've been following this blog at all, you've probably figured out that Roland and I have always been looking for cool and challenging places to go experience. Egypt sounded really exotic to us both and we finally made it over about a decade ago.

We planned to spend about a week in Cairo and a couple weeks roaming the country (including a Nile cruise to Aswan). Although it didn't seem so at the moment, some real misfortune for everyone else turned into a break for me and Roland. Just as we were leaving L.A. in November a bunch of religionist fanatics slaughtered a busload of tourists from Switzerland or Austria and Japan. It was really a spectacular horror show with scimitar-wielding terrorists chasing unarmed tourists through the ruins and mercilessly slashing them to death. It was a bloody slaughter; 5 dozen were murdered. Egypt, one of the world's biggest tourist destinations, immediately emptied of tourists. And they stopped coming (at for a couple weeks). I feel terrible for the Austrians and Japanese, of course; I mean what a way to go! But... well, Roland and I pretty much had Egypt to ourselves. I mean it was just us and the Egyptians, who, except for the scimitar-wielders, are an extremely generous, friendly and gracious people.

Example of how this worked: the cruise. Normally these big boats are packed-- hundreds of people (including brats) running around making noise and slowing everything down. And the cabins are tiny little cells. I mean really, really tiny. The giant ship had a full crew (which included an Egyptologist) plus me, Roland and two sprightly old Brits returning to London from a lifetime of foreign service in Oman and seeing Egypt on the way home. That's right; instead of a couple hundred tourists we were four. The first result was that instead of Roland and I having to share one of these tiny cells, we each got our own tiny cell. Still horrible but an improvement. Later the Egyptologist explained to us that no tour group in his experience on the Nile had seen as many things as we had. That's because normally the tour goes as slow as the oldest and most crippled turtle-like member. The 4 of us were all really into seeing everything-- and we did.

We flew to Cairo on TWA direct from L.A. They're out of business now. Some guy from the Warner Bros affiliate picked us up at the airport and whisked us through an otherwise annoying customs rigmarole and hassel-hell. We checked into Le Meridien on Roda Island right in the center of town connected to the Corniche by its own bridge, and got a great room with a balcony overlooking the Nile. Good hotel with the best views of Cairo in the city and not expensive at all (although it probably is now). On the way back we decided to stay in the Sheraton in Dokki, a little bit away from the hectic part of town but still convenient. It was pretty inexpensive too, although I have a feeling that all the prices were down because of the recent brutal murders of all the tourists.

Food in Egypt is definitely nothing to write home about. It's amazing that such an ancient culture doesn't have a unique cuisine, like China or Morocco or Turkey. But they don't. It's kind of garden-variety Middle Eastern. The restaurants were non-descript from a culinary perspective, although the food was ok. On the cruise there was always the very boring, semi-bland choice of "chicken or fish."
If you've looked through my blog, you're no doubt aware about how I delight in the cuisines of the countries I visit. Scratch Egypt off that list. There was not one memorable restaurant in almost a month! Even the lavish ones the Warner Bros affiliate people brought us to served food that was just slightly better than mediocre. This was definitely not a food trip. It was a tombs trip.

In Cairo the biggest deal is, of course, the Pyramids. And were we in luck on that score! You know the guy always on CNN whenever they do a story on mummies or anything old in Egypt-- Dr. Zahi Hawass? Well, one of the musicians, Andy Paley, in a band on Sire Records, where I used to work, was friends with some well-known American Egyptologist, a Rockefeller no less, and through this guy we had an introduction to Dr. Hawass, then Governor of the Pyramids (now Secretary General of the Supreme Council of Antiquities). This turned out to be a golden key to the most amazing visit to the Pyramids imaginable.

Dr. Hawass treated us to a tour usually reserved for heads of state. He literally closed down the Great Pyramid and made everyone else wait while we had it to ourselves! It's pretty awesome. Most things don't live up to expectations; that one did. He said we could sleep in it if we wanted to. We didn't at the time but now I'm sorry we didn't take him up on it. We didn't climb any pyramids the way Bush just did in Chichen Itzen in Mexico last week, looking like a pansy. We didn't because a U.S. marine climbed up and fell off and died; so it's forbidden now. Afterwards he showed us a small, locked up pyramid that no one is allowed in except Charles De Gaulle and other people they wanted to impress. They don't want general traffic in there because of breathing. Next door they had a little museum with an ancient ship with a bunch of mummified pharaoh's servants on it. The Sphinx, on the other hand, was covered in scaffolding and seemed to be crumbling into the sand. Roland claims they were injecting silicon into it.

The other stuff in Cairo we went were the Egyptian Museum, which was like an over-stuffed warehouse but still amazingly interesting; El Azhar Mosque (the spiritual center of Old Cairo where, unlike the Moroccan mosques, all are welcome); the 12th Century Citadel and the Muhammed Ali Mosque (an incredibly magnificent Turkish-style mosque also known as the Alabaster Mosque and unrelated to boxers); and the City of the Dead, basically a gigantic cemetery with hundreds of thousands of people living in it.

After a pleasant enough week in Cairo we took an Egypt Air flight to Luxor to meet our Nile ship. Luxor is really spectacular (although it took some effort to put all the screaming, terrorized Austrians and Japanese being hacked to bits by the terrorists out of our minds). The temples, big and small, and burial areas in the outskirts-- The Valley of Kings and The Valley of Queens-- were mind-boggling and themselves worth a trip to Egypt. We stayed on the ship and they took over the routine, starting with the Temple of Karnak-- the heart of the Amon cult and one of the most spectacular sites either of us has ever seen... anywhere. After seeing it, the also incredible-- albeit much smaller and less grand-- Temple of Luxor wasn't nearly as breathtaking and memorable. We wound up going back to the Temple of Karnak for a cool touristy sound and light show the next night. The boat stayed tied up on the dock for a few days-- a floating hotel/restaurant for us, while we explored the Luxor region. It was really amazing. We were supposed to sail north to Dendara to see the Temple of Hathor, the goddess of love, but the Nile was too low so they kept us in Luxor longer-- which was fine with us-- and gave us a gift certificate for a night at the Hilton Hotel in Taba on the Sinai.

It's 140 miles from Luxor to Aswan and this was the heart of our trip. We (me and Roland and the two old Brits) stopped everywhere and did everything. First stop was Esna, a tiny ancient agricultural town-- we were in rural ancient Egypt now-- with an awesome little temple dedicated to Khnum, the ram-headed god. On the other side of the river and 30 miles away is Edfu. By this time we felt really comfortable on our ship and we had taken over the sound system and were playing Velvet Underground tapes as we watched ancient Egypt float by. The Temple of Edfu, the holiest site of Horus, the falcon god, is the most intact temple we saw on our whole trip. In some ways this was the one, the one where it was easiest to fantasize that I was an Egyptian living a thousand years before Christ. I wasn't in the real world any longer.

Next came Kom Ombo, the site of the temple to Sobek, the crocodile god. Roland loved it. I felt I had seen enough temples by then and I hate and fear crocodiles anyway. I was also getting bored with the crappy food on the boat and I was happy when the boat Egyptologist told us if we wanted to we could go for a camel excursion into the Libyan Desert to visit an old Coptic monastery. We all jumped at the chance and we had a truly remarkable day, although Roland picked up some accursed Arabic phrase that made my nasty camel run off whenever he shouted it.

Our last stop was Aswan, best known for the Aswan Dam, of course, but there are some pretty cool things to see there too. I think the last thing we did as part of our organized cruise was to take a falucca to Elephantine Island and Kitchener's Island to visit the gardens. It was very beautiful and peaceful and helped feed my fantasy about living 3,000 years ago. We checked into the Pullman Cataract Hotel, famous as the site of the film Death on the Nile and very beautiful-- Moorish in style. It's a luxury hotel but it was inexpensive and not really all that luxurious. Like everywhere in Egypt, the food was mediocre.

On a lark we decided to go see Abu Simbel, way down near Sudan, the gateway to Africa. We flew there from Aswan on ZAS. Most people fly in for a few hours and fly out with the same group. We were the only ones who stayed. The town gets lively when the planeful of tourists arrives and then gets real sleepy when they fly back in the evening. We loved being the only ones in this very primitive African town. We found a basic hostel to stay in. There were no real hotels. I don't recall any real restaurants either and we traded a farmer a pen for some tomatoes. The Temple of Rameses was as spectacular and awe-inspiring as the photos lead you to believe it is.

We wound up flying back to Cairo and I let Roland talk me into taking a night bus through the Sinai to Taba (to use our gift certificate and cross over and visit Eliat). We went to visit Jerusalem too-- and spent Christmas Eve in Bethelhem where tradition says Jesus was born, but that part of the trip is for another time.

UPDATE: Egyptian Roads

They should be avoided when possible. Christmas week, 2010 and a bus crashed into a truck, killing 8 American tourists, injuring 21 others, going from Aswan to Abu Simbel. Better to fly.

The crash took place early Sunday as the tourists were traveling from Aswan to Abu Simbel, the site of an ancient Egyptian temple.

Road accidents are common in Egypt because of bad roads and poor enforcement of traffic rules. An estimated 8,000 people die in car accidents annually in the country.