Thursday, August 24, 2006

Home Sweet Home

I'm back in St. Paul again, and let me tell you, it's good to be back. It's a nice feeling to be in a place where you feel like you belong, where you can go out to familiar places and see smiles on familiar faces. I'll be getting back on the Turf Club train now, and hope to slowly but surely confront the mass of over 1000 emails I have in front of me. Please don't be offended if you don't get an immediate response to your booking requests, and don't necessarily expect a response if you sent me one while I was away. I recommend resending, but please please please don't go overboard. None of those people who send me emails over and over and over are helping their cases in the least.

I will also immediately return to my work with developmentally disabled adults, and I look quite forward to it.

As for City Pages, I will not be returning to them in the capacity of Listings Coordinator. I loved working with the people there, but the position could not be kept open for me for such a long time, and as I didn't find the job to be a very good fit for my interests and temperment I will not attempt to get the job back even if it is still available.

I do, however, have a stronger interest and a greater confidence now in pursuing some work in writing and photography, be it journalism or some other form. I feel fairly inspired and ready, and have been struck with the incredible luck of already recieving a request for a freelance piece with a local publication less than 1 day after returning. More news on that as it happens.

In the meantime, I'll go back in time a few days and finish the story I began upon my arrival in Merida, Venezuela. The writing between the lines below is what I have already written, after which will be the continuation:

________________________________________________________________________________

Two days ago, I said goodbye to Susanna, who left Venezuela this morning to begin her long, roundabout journey back to Hong Kong. I got a ride from a member of the China Club in Caracas, they were all quite nice people and really went out of their way to make sure I had a good trip. I was dropped off at the bus station, where I had previously gone to purchase my ticket. On my ticket it said my bus to Mérida would leave from gate 8. I waited a long time, in a ridiculously long line, only to find that the bus at gate 8 actually went somewhere else. I asked someone what to do, and he said that since my bus wasn´t at gate 8, it must be at gate 16. I wasn´t sure what his logic was, but I suspect his suggestion was based on the fact that 16 is a multiple of 8, and thus would be the next logical choice.

Fortunately, on my way to gate 16, I was skeptical enough to keep my eyes open and saw that in fact my bus was at gate 13. I ran over to the side of the bus, worried that I may be late, only to find another line of people waiting to stow their luggage underneath the bus, a task I am always hesitant to do, but it must be done.

There were three compartments to stow the luggage in, and the attendant seemed to have some sort of system to decide which bags went in which compartment. Through my observation, I deducted that he was putting all the backpacks and soft bags in the rear, which seemed like a good idea to me at the time, so that all the hard luggage wouldn´t crush the contents of the soft luggage. I proceeded with my smaller back pack into the bus

Then began the "12 hour" journey.

As you may guess from my use of quotation marks, 12 hours was sort of a rough estimate. Unfortunately, due to ridiculously long meal breaks, and no less than 2 flat tires, we didn't manage to arrive in Merida until a good 16 hours later, during which the insides of my small backpack experienced a PINKSPLOSION of generic pepto/bismol all over my stuff.

I finally got off the bus, just happy to have reached my destination, and was lucky enough to be the first person to get my luggage back. It seemed a little damp, but I didn't really think twice about it, since I remembered the ground outside the bus when I loaded my stuff was a little wet. I put on my big back pack

_________________________________________________________________________

, took a look at my guide book, and started to decide what to do next, specifically, which posada (guesthouse) I would choose. As I peered up from my guidebook, I saw a fellow traveler who looked like he wanted to start a conversation. I said hello to him, and we small talked a bit. He was from England. His girlfriend approached us carrying her backpack with a somewhat disgusted look on her face.

"What's that horrid smell?" she said. We both shrugged. I didn't really think about it, as horrid smells are a fairly common thing in Latin America, and spending a lot of time thinking about it didn't seem to me to be either productive or entertaining.

Unfortunately, upon discovering the source of the smell, I found myself to be utterly wrong on the former count, as it turned out that the smell was coming from the very bags that we were wearing.

Turns out the toilet on the bus had leaked onto the baggage compartment below it!

Apparently, the system to decide which bags went in which compartment that I had pondered before, had nothing to do with whether the bags were soft or hard, nor was there any intention of "protecting" my luggage in any way. The rear compartment, below the toilets, was for gringos.

Realizing that there was nothing anyone was going to do about it, we decided our best course of action would be to quickly find a place to stay and get cleaned up. We worked together on this project, as we had now bonded in our misfortune.

(can you tell I've been reading a book from the 1600s? I feel like it's rubbing off on my writing a little bit...for better or for worse. The book is Moll Flanders, by Daniel Defoe--not to be confused with Willem Dafoe, who may or may not be a writer, but is certainly not from the 1600s, although I'll bet if he is a writer, he writes like he's from the 1600s. I don't know why, he just seems like the type.)

We looked through the guide and found several places to our liking, being both affordable, and well recommended. We found a taxi together and headed towards our first choice. This place was full, so we went to another. Also full. The next was full as well...as was the following. The one after that? Full.

We finally found a place that wasn't in the guidebook, but had two rooms available, but as we discussed whether or not to stay there, one of the room got snatched up. We decided immediately to take the one room that was left and share it among the three of us, lest we find ourselves destitute and streetbound, and immediately set to the task of cleaning the nasty odor from our "kit" as the brits call it.

My bag cleaned fairly quickly, as it wasn't so badly hit, and Matt's hadn't really gotten wet somehow. Marrianne's bag however, would not come clean no matter how hard she worked at it. In the meantime, we set up a reservation for a couple days later at one of the posadas we preffered, and began to inquire about getting a guide to take us to Cataumbo.

While we were there, I noticed a girl that seemed vaguely familiar, but I paid no mind, as it seemed improbable that I would see anyone I knew on my first day in Merida, Venezuela. As we started towards the door however, she approached me and asked if I was from Saint Paul, MN, as she said she had recognized my voice. I was quite shocked, and told her that, yes, indeed I was, and saw that she was wearing a Heiruspecs shirt. I decided to stay and chat and told my new British friends I would find them later. Turns out that not only had she at times heard me on the radio, but in fact she, and her boyfriend who was also there, had both gone to Central High School as I had, and surely had countless other things in common with me, as Saint Paul is not such a large city.

As we chatted at this posada we were joined by a friendly couple from Athens, Greece, and several employees of the posada (including one friendly guy, nicknamed Grillo--grasshopper in English-- who would become my guide to Catatumbo a few days later) , and had a great time chatting and drinking until late.

I didn't see my new friends from Saint Paul again before I left, but hope to see them whence they return home in 9 odd months.

As I cannot bear the strain of writing in this formal manner, I shall end my recounting at the very point upon which I have writ above, and leave thee to know well that which I have completed my journey of seven weeks in strangelands upon finding my home in a mightily fine condition, and feeling a wellness which I hope continues to be carried with me through future days. I may well continue this new found expressional device brought to us in Modern Times by the vastness of technological fortitude, thought by many to be Apocolyptic, and by others yet to be the saving grace of Civilisation. Time will notify those who are Present to Discover it's Truths, but in the meantime we must forge our paths in order to seek that light which shines e'er so bright by the Torch of Knowledge and Gooodness.

And stuff.

Sunday, August 20, 2006

Lots of new Pictures

Lots of exciting new pictures of tucans, monkeys, beautiful lightning, an amazing sunrise, and much more at http://picasaweb.google.com/ogoldberg.

Check it out, and let me know what you think!

Friday, August 18, 2006

Day 48: Mérida, Venezuela

Two days ago, I said goodbye to Susanna, who left Venezuela this morning to begin her long, roundabout journey back to Hong Kong. I got a ride from a member of the China Club in Caracas, they were all quite nice people and really went out of their way to make sure I had a good trip. I was dropped off at the bus station, where I had previously gone to purchase my ticket. On my ticket it said my bus to Mérida would leave from gate 8. I waited a long time, in a ridiculously long line, only to find that the bus at gate 8 actually went somewhere else. I asked someone what to do, and he said that since my bus wasn´t at gate 8, it must be at gate 16. I wasn´t sure what his logic was, but I suspect his suggestion was based on the fact that 16 is a multiple of 8, and thus would be the next logical choice.

Fortunately, on my way to gate 16, I was skeptical enough to keep my eyes open and saw that in fact my bus was at gate 13. I ran over to the side of the bus, worried that I may be late, only to find another line of people waiting to stow their luggage underneath the bus, a task I am always hesitant to do, but it must be done.

There were three compartments to stow the luggage in, and the attendant seemed to have some sort of system to decide which bags went in which compartment. Through my observation, I deducted that he was putting all the backpacks and soft bags in the rear, which seemed like a good idea to me at the time, so that all the hard luggage wouldn´t crush the contents of the soft luggage. I proceeded with my smaller back pack into the bus

Then began the "12 hour" journey.

As you may guess from my use of quotation marks, 12 hours was sort of a rough estimate. Unfortunately, due to ridiculously long meal breaks, and no less than 2 flat tires, we didn't manage to arrive in Merida until a good 16 hours later, during which the insides of my small backpack experienced a PINKSPLOSION of generic pepto/bismol all over my stuff.

I finally got off the bus, just happy to have reached my destination, and was lucky enough to be the first person to get my luggage back. It seemed a little damp, but I didn't really think twice about it, since I remembered the ground outside the bus when I loaded my stuff was a little wet. I put on my big back pack


Dammit. I just wrote this whole long story, and this stupid computer lost the whole thing. I´ll try to rewrite it when I have a chance.

Anyways, here´s my agenda for the next few days:

Tomorrow and Sunday: take a 2 day trip with a tour group to Catatomba, the valley of endless lightning and no thunder

Monday: Paragliding, then overnight bus trip back to Caracas

Tuesday: Hang out in caracas

Wednesday morning: leave for Minneapolis. After a transfer in Houston, TX, I arrive in minneapolis Wednesday, Aug. 23 at 4:50 pm.

And that´s it! Hip Hip Hooray!

Monday, August 14, 2006

Day 44: A whole lotta Caracas

We´ve been in Caracas for a few days now. There´s so much to say about Venezuela, I don´t even know where to start.

One thing people say about Venezuela is that the press has limited freedom of speech. While it is true that there is more than one government station that is unquestionably pro-Chavez, there are also several anti-Chavez channels, newspapers, and other media. They are even allowed to print headlines that say Chavez limits their freedom of speech, which to me says it all. Talk about a self-defeating point made.

The one thing I´ll point out that seems problematic in regards to the media, is that it seems like the line is pretty fuzzy between government programs, and the campaign for Chavez´s reelection. For instance, you will see an ad in the metro station talking about how great the metro is, and in the corner it will say "With Chavez the governement is for everybody". I can see why people have issues with this kind of publicity. Government money is apparently going to Chavez´s campaign in ambiguous ways. It doesn´t bother me nearly as much as when Bush does this kind of thing, but that´s just because I can´t stand Bush. It´s easy to see how this can affect people´s opinions on things, and when the government starts dabbling in people´s opinions it gets murky.

On the other hand, I don´t see a problem with Chavez essentially having his own channel. The right wing has lots of channels. It´s not like the president getting an unrestricted, unedited opportunity to speak with the people who elected him is such a bad idea. Bush has the Fox network, right?


As for Chavez´s recent comments comparing Israel´s actions in Lebanon to the Holocaust, I think that in his attempt to make a point he has gone a little overboard and sets an example which minimizes and misinterprets what happened during the holocaust and in other genocides by making broad statements without a clear explanation of where those similarities lie--at least, that's how I've seen it presented. However, I don´t think this invalidates the point that Israel´s actions, specifically the bombing of a civilian airport, the well-informed bombing of U.N. representatives and the seeming disregard for civilians in general, have crossed the line. I´m against any kind of killing, but governments killing civilians....not pretty, and that is one way in which I think the comparison may be a fair one, especially when one looks at the broader actions of both Israel and the U.S. in Palestine, Lebanon, Iraq, Afghanistan, and who knows what country is next. Simultaneously, there are several ways in which Israel's actions at least are different, particularly from a contextual standpoint. [I edited this paragraph for clarification]

In order to be perfectly clear, I´m not speaking in support of Hezbollah and their violent actions, which I also criticize.

I think the problems in the middle east can be squarely blamed on lots of people. But the point is that it is exactly this need to continue the blame game that is the heart of the problem. People need to look forward with a vision of hope, not backwards with a vision of hate.

As for the question of justice, I have no answer. Who should decide what justice is? Who should receive justice? Who should distribute justice? The only reasonable answer I can give to these questions is "everyone". But, unfortunately, that isn´t nearly as practical as it is reasonable. At the same time, however, if everyone can´t be involved, than in my heart I want to say that no one should be able to, for why should one person have that right, and not another? I suppose that these are some of the questions that have plagued society and brought conflict and war for longer than anyone even knows.

I am sure beyond any doubt that the solution lies in our attempts to know one and another better, and to see through each other´s eyes, and that it is through this path that the world can be a better place. We need to meet those people which we want to meet the least, we need to confront our fears, and we need to go out of our way to resist any force, internal or external, which tells us otherwise, for knowledge is the only way to conquer fear, and you cannot know someone until you have met them.

I also would suggest that people consider alternate forms of group decision-making to Democracy. I realize that this is an immediately controversial thing to suggest, but hope that my ideas are not immediately written off as overly radical simply due to the popular perception that democracy is the be all and end all of government process. In fact, what I suggest is, in my opinion, actually more democratic than Democracy itself, as we know it. It´s a concept my father introduced me to a while back, called Sociocracy. It´s not that I find this to be a perfect solution, but of all the decision-making processes of which I am familiar with, this seems to me to be the most reasonable.

Here are some links for you to go to if you want to learn more about it, since it´s much easier than trying to explain it in my own words:

http://www.sociocracy.biz/

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sociocracy

http://www.sociocracy.info/about.html

http://worldteacher.faithweb.com/sociocracy.htm

If this is not enough, and you want to learn more, there´s plenty out there if you just do a search or two.

Anyways, now that I´m done saving the world for the day, I can let you know that I have uploaded a whole bunch of new pictures to http://picasaweb.google.com/ogoldberg for you to look at. These photos include a Venezualan military ceremony, Chavez´s official announcement to run for re-election in December, and some shots of Caracas from a cable car I took up the surrounding mountains. Also, an ice-skating rink. Who knew? Plus other stuff too.

I don´t know how much longer we will be in Caracas, it depends on various things, but either way, before I leave Venezuela I fully intend to make it to Parque Nacional Cienagas del Catatumbo, which is a valley where there is almost constant lightning without any scientific explanation. And there is absolutley no thunder in the valley! Really. No thunder in the valley. This seems absolutely incredible to me. I guess over the decades it has gotten less intense, but they say you can still read by the light it shines. Of course, I don´t actually intend to enter the valley itself, that would be stupid. There are lots of scenic overlooks in the area that are safe and apparently quite beautiful.

I wish I could tell all the stories of all the little things that happen everyday, but I think I´d have to write a book, which I don´t intend to do at the moment. So, I´ll just leave it like this, and wish you a good day. More soon.

Wednesday, August 09, 2006

New photos

There are new photos up at http://picasaweb.google.com/ogoldberg in the albums "Panama 2" and "Venezuela". Of course, if you haven´t seen all the other albums yet, I recommend you do. Good stuff, I swear.

Tuesday, August 08, 2006

Day 38: Caracas, Venezuela

Alright. We've been in Venezuela for a couple of days now. I like it here. Staying at Hotel Odeon, which is an ok place (no hot water or cable, but the rooms are big and it's clean). They have a metro here, which is a real life saver because taxis are fairly pricey. I think Panama and Venezuela are two of my favorite places on this trip. People here so far have been friendly, I'm not endlessly getting harassed by someone who wants something from me, the literacy is pretty close to 100%, and I don't constantly hear stories of how bad the government is (with the exception of U.S. media of course, and Israeli media--and my brother. And probably a bunch of other people). Ok, of course there are people who don't like the Venezuelan government. Much in the same way that the U.S. gov't doesn't interact with terrorists, this government doesn't cooperate with imperialists (at least in theory--but guess who they sell lots of oil to...). You can make enemies really fast that way. But I have to say, the standard of living in Venezuela seems to be much better than everything I saw in Central America.

Some might say, "well of course Venezuela has a higher standard of living! Look how much oil they have!". While it's true that Venezuela has more oil than just about any country in the world, it is not this fact alone which helps the general population. In fact, there is quite a bit of oil in Central America as well. Chiapas, Mexico, for example (yes, Chiapas is considered Central america by many--and if the zapatistas have their way, it won't even be part of Mexico for long) has tons of oil, but because of some bizarre bureaucratic/corporate ballyhoo they ship it off to the U.S. to refine it, and then they have to buy it back at a more expensive price, which as you can guess, has a tremendously negative effect on the economy. Huge amounts of corruption don't help either.

This interesting fact aside, if the Chavez gov't hadn't made efforts to de-privatize the oil here, it wouldn't matter how much oil there was, only the ultra-rich (i.e. U.S. interests) would benefit from it. As it stands, Venezuelan oil helps fund programs for food, education, health, agriculture, and much more--not just in Venezuela, but all over Latin America, Africa, AND even in poor areas in the U.S. that the U.S. government won't even look at. Politics aside, per capita, Venezuelan women have such a high (beautiful):(not beautiful) ratio that it's stunning. If you think that is a good thing, you may want to come see for yourself.

Oh, yeah. Quick sidenote: I know I've touched on this general topic before, but notice how the mainstream media describes Mexico's Lopez Obrador as leftist? Well, that's kind of odd, because he really isn't, but I guess I can forgive his followers for thinking that he is. The publicity machine works well everywhere (John Kerry, anyone?).

I've tried several times at a few different internet cafes to get some pictures up, but the damn thing just won't work. I hope to figure out a solution soon. I have some beautiful pictures to share. Lots to be excited about here, and putting in a lot of work to make things happen. More info soon!

Friday, August 04, 2006

Some help?

If anyone wants to help recoup my robbery costs, I won't turn you down. I had to quit one of my jobs to go on this trip, so any amount of money would be really helpful. Just click on the "Make a Donation" button on the right.

Thank you so much for contributing!

FYI: If you want to feel like you're helping, but you don't have any money, I get paid a little bit of money (like 3 cents or somthing) if you click on the google ad at the top of the page. Thanks!

Today we went to see the rain forest near Panama.

Here are some pictures of that, and of the canal to get you through the day:

Panama
Aug 4, 2006 - 128 Photos

Thursday, August 03, 2006

Day 33: Panama City

At 1:00 pm yesterday, Susanna and I hopped on board a bus with our new friend Taka, from Japan. We had originally intended to get an international bus direct to Panama City, but they were all full until the weekend, so we decided to jump on a bus to the border and take our chances. Don't get me wrong, San Jose has some attractive features, and I'm sure there are plenty of lovely things about Costa Rica, but it's to touristy to really serve our needs. I thought we would spend at least one day there and was looking forward to getting some laundry done, maybe getting a haircut, possibly seeing some sort of touristy type thing, but things didn't work out that way, and instead we were on a more-comfortable-than-average, but packed to the brim, chicken bus to the border. I had a seat, luckily, but it was at the very very front of the bus and I had very little leg room for the 8 hour ride. When I got out my legs were killing me. I felt bad for Taka who is quite a bit taller than me.

As we approached the border, we asked the driver's assistant (they all have assistants in Central America--and it's totally necessary too, because things tend to get hectic and confusing) what the chance of finding a bus would be at 9:30 pm, when we arrived. It didn't seem like our chances were all too hot.

Somehow, they managed to flag down the bus in front of us to stop, and the guy got out and talked to them, then came running back. He said that the other driver agreed to take us on their bus at the other side of the border. At the border, the level of bureaucracy was absurd, going to this desk, and then the other desk, and filling out this form, and then going back to the other desk, then getting your bagged search and going back to another desk. Very strange. and then, after taking our luggage, the new bus driver told us to wait outside on the other side of the border. We went along with it, but we were ready to jump in front of the bus if it seemed like they would try any funny business.

Luckily it all worked out. The 10 hour ride from the border to Panama City went by incredibly fast. I fell asleep to some crappy U.S. indie gangsta movie called....can't remember right now, something like "Absolute Takedown"...anyways, it was a really corny name and it was dubbed really badly so the voices didn't match the lip movement. How did they get that movie in the first place? Anyways, I was watching that movie, and the next thing I know I woke up in Panama City. Amazing!

The bus terminal in Panama City is like being in a nice European airport. It's so clean and modern and nice. We raced through Costa Rica just to escape this kind of thing, but I have to admit, I like it. Panama City is by far the most westernized city I've seen on this trip. It reminds me of being in the U.S.

After getting a couple rooms at Hotel Centroamerica and buying our tickets to Venezuela (we leave on the 6th), Susanna and I went to check out the canal. I knew it would be a disappointment, but seriously, how could we go to Panama and not see the Panama Canal? I'll put up some pictures when I get a chance.

I don't know how they manage to generate such a tourist frenzy over such a mundane and rather boring thing. It's like an elephantine version of the lock and dams along the Mississippi river, and the whole process is painstakingly slow. You can go see for yourself if you are reading this in Minnesota. The people working on the boats must look back at all the tourists and think that they are absolutely nuts for just standing around watching and taking pictures of a boat going really slow. And of course, the whole tourist experience is about all the great positive things about the canal, and how great the U.S. is, and about how all the deaths in the making of the canal were disease related. Please. As if that is some kind of excuse/even true. It also implies that the politics of the canal were always simple, easy, and clean, without any description of the political turmoil this thing has caused, not to mention that Nicaragua is in fact a much more logical place to put such a canal. Omar Torrijos? Not mentioned. Manuel Noriega? Not a word.

The U.S. influence on Panama is blatantly obvious, and clearly a lot of things are for the better for it, but I have no doubt, like in San Salvador, that we will soon find the dirty side of things. All of this glamor and glitz does not come without a cost.

Tuesday, August 01, 2006

Day 31: San Jose, Costa Rica

Finally out of Nicaragua, and life feels much better now. It was a long bus ride. They showed crappy latino music videos, a scratched up copy of Les Miserables that kept freezing and got cut short at the climax of the movie, and of course, the movie I am cursed to see everytime I travel, 13 going on 30 starring Jennifer Garner, which I´m pretty sure I have now seem at least 4 or 5 times on various airplanes and buses in the last year. I have a lot of it memorized and it makes want to shoot myself.

I sat next to a peace corps volunteer from Chicago who teaches business microentrepreneurship to teenagers here, and met another peace corps guy from good old St. Paul, Minnesota (Como, to be exact--but he went to highland high school) who I only chatted with briefly. Also befriended a Japanese guy who is studying the political situation in Latin America. We got a room with him at the Pangea Hostel. Seems like a nice enough place. Free internet is always a good thing.

I hear that other parts of Nicaragua are much nicer than Managua, but since I got sick we never really got to see them. I hate Managua though, and I hope I never have to go back. The people tend to not be friendly, seem to try to take advantage of you at every chance, I got robbed at gun point (which is kind of a biggie for me), and I spent 2 full days just going back and forth between my bed and the bathroom. When I bought a new camera to replace my old one, I had to pay waaaaaayyy more for the exact same model (but I really like that model so I stupìdly felt the need to shell out).

The rest of time we basically spent at this stupid conference in the Intercontinental Hotel. The conference was about poitical finance reform in Nicaragua and it was organized by a collection of self-proclaimed "non-profit, non-governmental" groups. Of course it didn´t take long to find out that every single one of these groups was funded by both the U.S. Government and either the Republican party or the Democratic Party.

How do they get away with stuff like that? It boggles the mind.

We met yet another well known local TV news personality who was very nice. He helped us get an interview with a Sandinista Parliamentarian. Our journalist friend told us that the average professional journalist in Nicaragua earns $150 a month. He said he spends $75 a month on his internet bill. You do the math.

Apparently the underemployed and unemployed rate there is over 60%, as is the functional illiteracy rate. truly tragic numbers. Makes me question my judgements of the people of Managua--but I still don´t ever want to go back there.

We will spend tomorrow here in San Jose, and then the next day march on to Panama City. Someone please go to Davanní's and eat some cheese bread for me, I´ve been craving that stuff for days now.