Back to California

Flying back on Sunday noonish. Means the bus will pick up at the house 04:30. God, at least the traffic will be light, with the bridge still out and only maybe 5 hours to wait for the flight. At least not going through London where the computers are out or Frankfurt where the terrorists are out. Direct to lovely Atlanta. Home of one of the "Chiefs" monumental string art pieces above the arrival hall. We have just a small but intricate and lovely piece of his (1972) in our house.

And what the heck are you Americans doing over there? Bailing out for $700 billion, who? It's turned into a sort of get the rich guys revolution, except that the rich guys (aka Congress) are making up the rules. How about the people who bet the economy would be going lower, like stock market shorts and risk insurance shorts? They made a bet, they won, and now they lose because the govmint won't let them win? What the hell?

And the suitcase cost N4000 to fix plus N500 for driver time plus N200 for parking and I'm sick of it all.

I've noticed that when leaving this coast for the U.S.A things that were laughed off are now a serious pain. It's like my perspective is shifting in advance. Getting my finger limbering up for California driving. Why is it I can't buy a wall clock while stuck in traffic on northbound 80 to the Bay Bridge? Aren't you guys civilized at all?

Catch up with you'all when I can.

I'm in the rain

Yes, it's pouring rain today and keeps me inside and I don't like it if I don't get out at least for a bike ride or a swim or walk. I suppose I could swim, but then swimming in the rain has always seemed weird to me. I mean you're all wet both below and above.

So it's just me and the computer screen, hoping the power stays on. Just for fun, I'll provide you with a couple fun links I've found to match my mood, prize winners all.

In the category of not getting it, I submit this site where research proves that rain causes green plant growth or green plants cause rain or something. Here

And looking at the pictures of the new Academy of sciences museum in San Francisco (here) , I can't help but be reminded of Joni Mitchell's "Big Yellow Taxi". Featuring the classic line:

"They took all the trees and put them in a tree museum"

Life follows art? How's that go?

And I got to thinking about how inadequate photographs are in describing a place. I've heard that the memory of an odor can be the strongest reminder of a place or event and I believe it. The photos always make it look so clean. I've wondered for a while if that's why "native" type village scenes never ring true in the movies. (See the village in Mutiny on the Bounty for a perfect example, and with really bad drumming too).

So when you look at the picturesque scene above, keep in mind that it's about 40C and the sun is unbearable and you're stepping in who knows what and everything is rotting and you are too and it's noisy. Photos are always quiet, the market's not like that. Someone's calling "I give you good price", or arguing with another vendor or just yelling "Hi" and carrying on a conversation with an acquaintance about a block down the road. And there's plenty of room there for a motorcycle to zoom through with worn out horn bleating a warning.

Remember rule number one: Get in the shade. And enjoy the show.

He works for us now.

What a thrill as Ronaldo took the field last night in ManU's game against Villareal, proudly wearing the AIG logo. Hey, wait a minute. Since the U.S. taxpayers now own 80% of AIG, Ronaldo's working for us.

So dude, stick to the left side. Your efforts on the right were weak and unfocused, the left side is where you shine. And lose the stepover move, everyone's seen it a thousand times and it doesn't fool anyone anymore.

Why do we still have polio in Nigeria?

This question came up the other day, triggered by a story of a man divorcing his wife because she had the children immunized against polio. (story) Often we westerners can't understand why some things that we think should be so easy are not. Eradicating the last remnants of an infectious disease can be really hard. Especially in an economic and cultural setting that is rife with poverty and distrust.

Why doesn't everyone simply bring their children forward and get the drops? Looking back at the history of the interaction between the west and Africa there is plenty of basis for distrust. And recent events have furthered that distrust of western medicine in northern Nigeria

The 1996 drug trial conducted by Phizer in Kano, which is the subject of lawsuits that are still going on, didn't help matters. Whatever the events that took place during the trial, the fact that the drug given to these children, Trovan, is not approved for such use in the U.S. will ensure that this remains a sore issue no matter what the legal outcome. See story

In 2002, the polio immunization program in Kano was hindered by the opposition from local Muslim leaders. This following quote from the story may seem mindboggling to western ears but demonstrates the relutance of Nigerians to accept the "believe us, we have good science, we know better, it's good for you" argument.

"If they really love our children, why did they watch Bosnian children killed and 500,000 Iraqi children die of starvation and disease under an economic embargo?"

Vaccination programs have also been problematic in India. This comprehensive article in the N.Y. Times has more details concerning eradication efforts.

It is heartbreaking that any child has to suffer with polio. But there are so many factors working against total eradication that it may never be achieved. Maybe it's too bad the children have to depend on adults.

P.S. Lest we think we're so smart, the supposed link between measles vaccine and autism that was launched by this paper and later totally discredited has led to a decline in measles vaccinations. (Most recent study here.) Recently, measles cases have increased in the U.S.

I just drive around

Sometimes, like this morning, when it's rainy and the cook downstairs is singing to herself making somosas I go out for a drive. I need to get outside and the other light bulb blew in the living room this morning and so I go. I have the code for the monitoring box, so I can type it in and then go.

Mandy in the morning on FM 88.9 talks sports with some interesting callers, although some of the phone connections are just horrendous. It's the rain she says, and Mandy ploughs right along with good humor and grace. I wonder if the Chelsea coach appreciates how much good advice is available. Talk centers on Manchester City which has recently been bought by some billionaire that needs a toy to play with. The latest in a string of purchases of English teams by foreigners. One cornerstone of western capitalism is private property rights and that includes foreign investors too. At least that's what Alan Greenspan says. Did you know he dated Barbara Walters?

The rain pounds down on the windscreen, thunder rumbles in the distance. Mandy perks along as I ease through the deeper puddles and over the speed bumps. Nice to be outside, at least this far.

New house

The other morning when it was too rainy to ride my bike I went for a walk instead. I figured this would be a good time to bring my camera and get a few snaps of the neighborhood. A half block down from my house, there is a bright pink house that I had seen featured in a real estate brochure. I spoke to the gate guy.

"Can I take a picture?", holding up my camera.
"Why would you want to do that?" he asked.
"I, ah, well I live over there and wanted a picture to show my friends what the houses look like."
"No, no picture" he replied as another guy came out of the house to see what was going on.

I knew it was polite to ask for permission for pictures but I wasn't off to a very good start. I proceeded down the street. There are a lot of houses for sale or rent so maybe they wouldn't be so protective. At one place, I asked a guy wearing a tie figuring he was in some decision making capability. "It's not my house, do whatever you want". So I took that picture, mostly the answers were no.

At the above pictured place, I asked and then started to regret it. The house is under construction so there were several people about. The first guy I asked was from the swimming pool company but he would get the security guy. The security guy couldn't answer but he went to get the engineer. (architect?) The engineer was very polite.

"Why do you want to take a picture?"
"I live here and think it's an interesting house that I can show my friends." I said
"Well, I'm not sure. I need to ask my client. Are you the one who rides the bicycle?". He asked.
"Yes, that's me."
"Don't get annoyed, I just think it would be better if I asked. Next week when I see you on your bike I'll let you know."

I was definitely not annoyed, he was being really nice considering my interruption. And I let him know that. I figured either he was making a polite way of saying no, or maybe he really would ask. That was on a Saturday. I didn't see him again until today, Wednesday.

Sure enough he called out to me and I went over. The client had said taking the picture was fine. So I did and there it is. Makes me think of the Adam's family house, I suppose it will brighten up when it gets painted.

Friday Fat Boy Run

Have I mentioned this before? Anyway, friday afternoon was the traditional run/walk from the office to the beach. (image is from an older tee shirt, these days we don't run back). It's an excuse to get out, do a bit of exercise and drink beer. All worthy endeavours.

I was walking and a couple others were too. Then some dropped out after hearing of the deep puddles on the route from the recent rains, they were going to ride over on the bus. Fair enough. The rest of us dashed across the expressway, dodged between the shacks, uh, I mean shops, ducked under the fence and onto the sand. They are going to build a school and houses here and the sand had been trucked in and leveled off as a first step. The going was easy, since the wet sand was pretty hard. Those builders better hurry up though, it's already beginning to wash away.

My companions decided to take the longer route and I headed directly south to the beach. Not much chance of getting lost, here it's open grassland and a three story unfinished house acts as a landmark. I did have to wade through some ankle deep puddles which was not too fun. Is it flowing or still water from which you get river blindness? I can never remember.

Arriving at the Palm Beach bar, things looked different. Where had all the shacks gone? And where was the bus? And why were the people who had ridden the bus walking along the road? It seems the night before huge waves had come in and swept clean across the beach and road and carried away a lot of the raffia and palm leaf buildings. The bar itself is up on stilts and was safe, thank goodness, although it's wooden steps had been carried away.

As we settled in over our drinks the stories emerged. The puddles were deeper because of these waves, the road was covered by deep sand and the bus, and one private car, were stuck quite a ways up the road. Normally we can idle there until after dark and then hop right on the bus but this day it seemed prudent to get back to the bus before dark. So a quick drink and off we went.

I would like to say this was an orderly retreat but it certainly wasn't. Everyone scurried off down the road not making any attempt to stay together. Our erstwhile leader came zipping past on the back of a motorcycle that he had hired to catch up to us. As we got closer to the bus, there were increasing numbers of okadas (for hire motorcycles) to dodge. It was getting quite dark with only the headlights of stuck cars and kerosene lamps as light. A most unexpected sight was a front end loader digging at the sand as we hurried past.

At the bus, the obruni's got at the back and pushed, much to the delight of the locals who hooted and hollered encouragement and laughter. With sand spewing out from the spinning tires we lurched forward once, stopped and then again. The bus took off, looking for a safe place to stop so we could pile in. So we piled in, then looked out the front. The road was filled with a line of cars coming the other way that couldn't move because of other stuck cars. It looked impossible.

Our leader jumped out and managed to bribe, cajole and threaten enough cars to move off to the side that the bus could move ahead. With at least a millimeter to spare we squeezed through and were on on way. Well almost. A couple of gentlemen demanded payment for their assistance in the pushing and our driver had to give them a few bills. Then the gatekeepers wanted assurances that we had paid for this many people on the way in. Then another man pounded on the side of the bus complaining that our bus had splashed his fine outfit. No sympathy for him, it was felt he should have stepped aside. Weaving around and through some truly monumental pot holes we managed to get to the expressway and on our way.

I had wondered when the gatekeepers would notice that every time the bus that had paid for a few people on the way in had lots more on the way out, having picked up the runners. Back home in time to join our team (the No Brainers) and win the quiz night competition.

Sometimes...

Sometimes I just don't know. Living in another culture it can be really hard to tell what other people are thinking. Like today, a couple of maintenance guys came over to see if they could fix our kitchen door handle. It leads outside and it really needs to operate and lock properly. The one guy seemed really gruff, almost surly to my view. They worked with the lock for a little while, took it apart and then put it back together and pronounced it fixed. I made a point of asking "Are you sure?".

As they were leaving, I noticed the gruff guy took a look at our new art work. A couple weeks ago we had bought 6 small oil paintings, each of an African woman wearing the native headgear (gele). They're currently mounted on the dining room wall.

"Do you like them" I asked.
"huh?" he replied.
"I mean the paintings, the women".
"Yes, they really show the beauty of the black woman, they are beautifully done".

Wow! That wasn't some disaffected surly maintenance guy, he was a romantic, a lover, a man.

I wonder what he thought of me?

Satellite TV

One of the things I've been enjoying "over here" is the satellite TV sports coverage. Watched a lot of olympic events without commercials, including sailing, rowing, weightlifting, triathlon, shotput et. al. Some were really compelling, like weightlifting, that has a drama and crescendo all it's own as the lifters try to get the highest weight in their three allowed tries. Some were just stupid, like team handball, which is the only sport to rival netball in stupidity.

This last week we've had hours and hours of US Open (tennis). Really fun. Only downside is the announcers, like Luke Jensen who should be relegated (with Bill Walton) to that great scrap heap in the sky. I mean how many times can you repeat the same thing? I enjoy watching Serena Williams. Besides being a great player, she's the only one who takes only the balls she needs when serving. Everybody else takes at least three and some take four. They look at them and then by some mysterious criteria bat the "bad" ones back to the ball person. I guess it's a form of meditation, but really, please just take a ball and hit it for goodness sake, they're all the same.

Also got to watch the European Grand Prix (Valencia) and the IRL league race from Sonoma. Not very exciting races per se, but each had it's moments. In Valencia it was Massa's amazing drive where he just ran away from everyone and then later when Kimi Raikkonen's pit guy got knocked down by the fuel hose that didn't detach properly. Raikkonen soon after retired with engine failure. In Sonoma it was Castroneves finally breaking out of finishing second.

One striking contrast was in the course signage. The F1 guys just do it so much better. Every place on the course where a TV camera was setup was decorated perfectly for the single sponsor. Considering the image above, despite the crash.net watermark, it's easy to see the one and only sponsor in the F1 picture. It was setup that way all around the course. The Sonoma coverage didn't have any coherent setup. There were seemingly random sponsor's signs placed randomly around the course. (sorry couldn't find the perfect picture). But you get the idea. I would suggest that the IRL guys take a lesson. Raise the fees to sponsors and deliver a more targeted image and raise your series image a notch or two.