Monkey music

shooting from the hip in the dark

2011-10-29T16:02:00.000-04:00

I'm really not a very good photographer. However, I occasionally (if you look back through this blog, I've got a few good ones tucked in there).

I still think this blog is not rich enough in photos, so I'll make this a post with more photos and less words. You'll get to see me a few times, get a little sense of what I'm doing, and enjoy a few lucky shots I took that aren't particularly meaningful, but just nice.

Here we are a village called Navio, one of the best performing in IDE's program. On Steven's farm, we're setting up a drip irrigation kit.

Steven and I are pounding the earth around the support legs for the kit's header bag. In the bottom of the picture you can see the main and lateral lines which send water to the plants.

At another site, Anna and I installed a small electric pump to lift water from a well. AC electric pumping is the most effective of any kind of pumping.

It was a real surprise to me that most people here didn't know that you could run a pump off electricity-- they only knew that it could run lights, radios, TVs and fridges. Another curious thing is that most people don't know the word "electricity", and usually say "light" and less commonly (more understandingly) "current".

At the local mill, I catch this lucky shot:

Incredibly, I manage it again:

There has to be a name for this shot: the feint portrait, of someone unposed, watching the photographer and is unaware of being photographed.

I once met a photographer who told me that photography is about controlling the amount and duration of light "falling on the film" by changing only three things: shutter, aperture and sensitivity. Since I can do none of the above, most of my photos from Ghana look the same, since it's so sunny all the time.

It's amazing what a little shade and shadow can do. It can turn the most commonplace scene into something more dramatic and interesting.

Finally, unlike most other geeky types, I don't really like using the word "fail", the classic lol-style being to attach it to some subject to denote a lack of success in that thing. However, when this showed up on my phone, it was too rare and funny not to take note of.

Thick as a brick

2011-09-29T14:21:00.000-04:00

It's funny how we adjust to our surroundings-- that what might be amazing or incredible for someone else is just normal to us if we experience it everyday.

--

I asked a local friend if she ever looked up and noticed how many stars there are in the sky. She said she did, but I didn't get the sense she found it as remarkable as I did. I can see the milky way almost every night that isn't a full moon here. I haven't been many places where this is possible.

Yet, even I am getting numb to this wonder. I used to be in awe every time I looked up at night but sometimes I simply forget to these days. It's only when I go to a bigger city and come back here that I remember I should.

My colleague Anna and I decided the other day to take a shortcut between two stops we had to make at work. It involved getting off the main road and using a derelict airfield to get straight to the village roads, and cutting out a large part of the main road that went out of our way. Basically, it was a very sound plan. I'd done it before, too, during the dry season.

We took the turn off the main road and got on a little dirt path. As we rode on, the path got narrower and narrower, we slipped and slid through a few swampy patches in it, and finally the path disappeared completely and we were riding through ankle high grass that completely obscured the ground.

Still, I was sure the airfield was only a little ways on, and we pushed on through the grass that got higher and higher...now it was knee high.

"Have you ever gone swimming in the sea, Anna?"

"No" (I didn't ask Anna if she could, but lots of Ghanaians can't swim, they actually think it quite remarkable if you can)

"This really reminds me of it. Kind of scary, you know? If you can imagine, you look down and you can't really see what's--wwooOOOOAOAAAHH!!"

...and without warning, the earth falls away beneath all the grass. We're airborne for a second, and the next, we find ourselves in a shallow stream. It was perfect, genius timing. It almost made me believe in God, because if I was God, I'd be doing stuff like that all the time to people.

We got our feet soaked pulling the bike out (it was completely bogged in). It was actually very fortunate there were two of us there because neither of us would have been able to do it on our own.

We carried on, skirting around the stream, and moved to higher ground, making guesses and theories about where the airfield was. As we went on, we found ourselves in grass that was waist high, which is actually a beautiful sight to see, just the handlebars of the bike above what looks like a sea of green and gold wheat swaying in the afternoon sun. Blue sky, big fluffy white clouds, deep red earth, it was really quite a sight to behold. It's a real shame I don't have any pictures.

Then, the grass got shoulder high and really thick, and we were bashing through it, as it dragged our feet off the bike and got in our faces and pulled at our clothes and backpacks. When we weren't in the thick stuff, we were slipping and sliding and bogging our way through the mushy mud around some rice fields.

Finally, we broke out of all that nonsense and found ourselves on a small dirt path that led to a larger dirt road that led directly up to the airfield. We realised that if we turned off the road just a few hundred metres later than we actually had, we would have saved an hour being lost and our feet would still be dry.

Well, I had fun anyway. You have to appreciate this kind of stuff. Even when God sneezes* on you, I suppose it's an honour.

*I decided this was the least offensive (to readers) bodily function I could use, although I'm sure you realise I was thinking of using a much funnier one.

The other day, I was moving a two-wheeled tractor and trailer from Navrongo (town) to Navio (village), a sweaty, bumpy tiring two++ hour ordeal under the hot Sahel sun.

A machine such as this--

in this picture, Thomas, one of our friends, is learning to operate it so that he can run a business transporting stuff around the area, and we can collect data about his workings for a feasibility study for these machines in this area.

These things are harder than they look. A really rough clutch, clunky steering and absence of any kind of suspension join forces with the most unpredictable but otherwise unresponsive throttle on the planet to make this a real bucking bronco.

Tractor-trailer vehicles are really crazy in reverse, and require a whole new different kind of intuition. They're still difficult, even after you've learned it. I have a lot of respect for truck drivers now.

As I passed through a police barrier between Navrongo and Navio, we waved hi and smiled at each other, and I don't think they noticed that I didn't have plates, and perhaps it was not completely obvious that I would not have a license for agricultural equipment. I think it was my good fortune that I passed through just as the officer on duty was tucking into a bowl of banku and soup.

Somewhere along the way, I passed an army of little school children on their way home. Of course they started yelling and smiling and saying "Hello! Hello! Hello! Hello!" like they always do (and then "How are you? How are you? How are you? How are you?" after that), and then before I knew it, ten of them had jumped into the back of the trailer and hitched a ride. Three more were hanging off the back and letting me pull them along on their bikes, while another throng cycled alongside us.

I really should have pulled out my camera and took some pictures. I guess it's a lesson I'll never stop learning.

--

This post didn't have as many pictures as I'd like to have in it so...here's one of the world's coolest ladder! It belongs to my friend Francis.

Strange fruit

2011-09-02T12:38:00.002-04:00

1. A song performed most famously by Billie Holiday. A strangely morbid blues standard condemning the lynching of African Americans, and other racism. It has a huge history of references and covers. In 1999, Time called it the song of the century. It's also been #1 on the list of "songs of the South" and on of the "top 20 political songs"

2. Literally uncommon fruits.

In Ghana, I've had the opportunity to partake of a variety of different fruits I'd never tasted before.

We in the west most commonly eat the nut (seed) of the cashew. However, little known to most of us, the cashew tree also produces a large fruit (biologically not a true fruit -- the true fruit contains the cashew nut) along with each cashew nut. Here's what it looks like (the cashew nut is the little bean shaped thing hanging below the large cashew "apple")

The fruit is very sweet and juicy, with a rich and complex taste. I like it a lot.

The next I tasted was the fruit of the baobab tree. Baobabs are the famously long-lived and iconically strangely shaped trees of Africa. Their fruit is large, and covered in a short, soft fur, almost velvet-like. The shell is brittle, and cracks open to reveal rows and rows of seeds surrounded by a dry, powdery fibre.

This fibre is edible, and tastes sweet but is otherwise uninteresting. I hear people mix it with milk to make a drink.

The most recent one I've got to eat is the fruit of the shea tree. The most well known product of the shea tree is the refined oil obtained from the seed of its fruit. Refining shea butter is a very common practice throughout the dry Sahel region of West Africa, where shea is from. The oil is edible, although we in the west are most well acquainted with its smoothness and moisturising properties (we rub it on ourselves, it's also in a lot of cosmetic products).

The shea fruit (pictured here with its nut) is kind of an intense experience. Imagine an avocado with a thin, edible skin, and that is sweet and (tastes) twice as fatty as the average avocado, and then shrink it down to the size of an apricot. That's a shea fruit. Pretty wild.

That's all the strange fruit we have time for today, and all I've eaten in Africa so far (though cashews are actually native to Brazil). I did eat a ton of wild blueberries in Maine when I was visiting my little sister, but that's another story for another time.

swinging

2011-08-25T12:55:00.010-04:00

Dear readers,

It's been far too long. Any whilst I can't think of anything specific or significant to write about, I figured I had to break the seal or you might just never hear anything from me again.

Slowly enough as not to be immediately recognised, but quickly enough to be quite stunning indeed, rains have changed northern Ghana from a place that looks like this

to a place that looks like this (featured here is Francis, basically my favourite farmer ever).

It's not all peaches and jello and fresh cream though. The rains are by my reckoning between one and two months late this year, which is a lot of trouble for everyone.

Farmer or not, just about everyone here grows millet, corn and perhaps rice during the three months of rain, to eat during the rest of the year. The maths is simple: if it don't rain, people don't eat.

Fortunately, the rains have finally come. In fact, against all odds these late rains are much too heavy, which is just as bad as being not heavy enough. They're flooding crop land and causing erosion. A few nights ago, a huge storm put a foot of standing water in Bolga town.

I'm busier than ever. I really enjoy working for my super amazing boss (foreground) and with my super amazing colleague (behind him), here meeting some nice farmers who we tested solar-electric powered irrigation equipment with.

Some interesting projects I'm working on are different systems of powered irrigation: one of the more promising avenues we're looking to test is on-grid electric pumping.

Another exciting project is to simultaneously increase tillage capacity and create local business opportunities by using Asia-style two wheeled tractors. We're still doing studies and putting numbers together but it looks promising.

(Anna, my super amazing colleague demonstrates)

I've also learnt over the last couple of months how important it is to take breaks and holidays to keep strong and keep going. I had a fantastic two weeks in Maine/Cambridge, and I am eternally grateful to everyone who made it a great time. If you're reading this, you probably know who you are.

That's all I have the energy to write right now. If you're reading this,...thanks for reading. I'll leave you with a picture I took the other day:

(If you look really close, you can see a double rainbow)

PS despite being slow on the blog, I think I've been pretty good about posting interesting stuff to my google reader feed, so check that out too!

You talkin' to me?

2011-06-14T11:49:00.008-04:00

I thought I might never get one of these

But then I did (I need it for work). So the very next thing I did was

rent a friend's taxi, and do some heavy moving of treadle pumps, solar panels, and PVC. It was a day full of adventure. First, the police pulled me over and told me it was "not proper" to carry 20ft PVC pipes on my roof. They let me off without too much fuss, and I didn't even have to bribe them. It must have been my charms.

Next, the transmission shaft fell out because of a loose bearing (apparently it "does this all the time"), and we had to bring a mechanic by motorcycle to fix it.

Everyone we met or encountered was amused and entertained-- like they'd never seen a white taxi driver before!

-

Then, on my way home, completely exhausted after a long day, I started to hear a rhythmic thumping and a strange vibration all through the car. It started to get really intense and I thought the whole car was about to come apart.

What was happening, was that one of the tyres was disintegrating and slapping itself against the wheel well, and bumping down the road because as it lost more rubber, it ceased to become round. As you can see, there's just about nothing left, you can see the steel belting and there's almost too little rubber left for it to hold together.

I changed the wheel with the help of some taxi drivers (thank god there was a spare). (the wheel bolts were almost completely stripped and I worried that we'd be able to fix the new wheel securely)

To top it off, the weather was miserable. Rainy and cold in the morning to hot and humid in the afternoon.

-

Well, if IDE lays me off, I know what I can do to make some dough.

starz n barz

2011-06-14T11:23:00.004-04:00

Northern Ghana was the last place I expected to find a minibus flying the confederate flag.

I wasn't sure whether to be amused, or frightened for my life.

Yee...haw?

Awesome biscuits from Africa

2011-06-02T13:46:00.002-04:00

Notorious BRB

2011-05-21T06:25:00.012-04:00

There's been a small drought of blog posts out of me lately. I know I promised a blog about work but it's surprisingly hard, after long days in the hot sun followed by reports about what happened on long days in the hot sun, to write blogs about long days in the hot sun. Even though I'm enjoying this job more everyday.

It's hard to take photos that would go well on blogs when I'm focused on taking detail photos of pumps and trying to fit whole gardens into my viewscreen, like in this exciting little number!

I'll try to sneak in some photos of farmers gardening or kids playing or something.

Anyway, more extra exciting things are happening at work and I'm so excited that I just might write about them. So don't worry about the title of this post, it's not that I'm taking a hiatus from writing this, all will come in its own time. Meanwhile, here's a short list of things on my radar:

In no particular order:

1. Lee Kuan Yew is "officially" out. I think this is a very good public step, albeit after firmly establishing the Lee Dynasty in Singapore government, and it's uncertain what he will do "despite" being out of office.

2. On a related note, Singapore just had its "most upsetting" election recently. I say "bout damn time". Everyone on "both sides of the government" is talking about how the political climate in Singapore is changing and that's a good thing. Singapore has a very uncommon but also quite nuanced political situation, and it's hard to recommend a good source that will describe the whole picture.

I found quite a few neat places to get very sharp, objective opinions and information about it, a couple of articles I really liked are here at molly meek and here at the online citizen. They might be a bit dense if you don't already know some about Singapore politics, but they get my super snobby stamp of approval.

Unfortunately, most Singaporeans would prefer to read utter drivel from Xia Xue (who I only just found out about before the elections). I wrote in a very polite comment to clarify five thousand factual mistakes she made but she predictably wouldn't let it go up, so maybe when it rolls around to "that time of the month" I'll write a heartfelt blog about why Xia Xue is the worst blogger in the entire sphere.

3. Since this has been so many words (and so much about politics!) and I have resolved to give more pictures and fewer words, I'll only add...huh, well maybe that was it. Well, this isn't news, I found out that the King of Thailand is a super amazing awesome jazz musician poet writer olympic sailor and apparently a really great guy to boot. And there's a huge controversy about the death of his brother (originally chosen to be king), and that Thai politics are quite brutal and sad but also very interesting and occasionally inspiring.

4. I'm also getting pretty decent at the guitar, learning about keys and intervals and chord structures as I learn how to play un-tabbed songs by ear and transpose them around. I think that this extra music knowledge might help me learn the piano again.

Africa is a country

2011-05-21T05:53:00.007-04:00

Now here's a sensitive and controversial subject, also the name of a blog I enjoy reading, you might have noticed from my google reader shared feed.

Here's the issue:

A lot of people (most markedly, in my experience, outspoken white development workers) get upset if you say "Africa" carelessly, as if you were referring to a country ("have you been to Africa?" / "I'm going to Africa") rather than a continent. It's such a geographically and culturally diverse place, and actually has 53 countries (note that there would be MANY many more if Africans had drawn the lines on cultural and ethnic boundaries, rather than colonists on geographic ones).

Note2: saying "Asia" is just as bad --probably worse-- by the same logic, but people are much less bothered by that (I think it's because people 'think "Africa" is poor but "Asia" is not', which is also completely false)

I understand some where the frustration of outspoken white development workers (OWDW) comes from {probably ignorant whitefolk -- I use this carelessly. Here in Ghana, if you ain't black, you white. A fairer-skinned African-American is considered white(!!)}.

(As for OWDWs, perhaps I fit the bill, although I don't consider myself a development worker, don't like the word "development", do not believe in development aid and agencies and most NGOs, and usually outspeak about non-"development" things)

But, consider this:

There are some powerful trends and similarities across the whole (sub-saharan part, anyway) continent, and on top of that, in my experience black Africans are intensely patriotic about their mother land / continent, and their black skin, and the brother/sister hood they feel it gives them. Black Africans: Ghanaians, Tanzanians, Kenyans in my experience will say "Africa" and "Africans" carelessly, without blinking twice. Perhaps there is an "Africa". Imagine a OWDW trying to lecture them that there isn't.

Anyway, I usually (and uncharacteristically wimpily) choose an uncommitted and neutral approach to this and always use country names. By following that rule, I can forget about the whole big hoo-hah and focus on more immediately pressing things, like my job.

I wrote about this to a good friend of mine, and here's what she said in reply (which I found fascinating and enlightening, and which made me smile to read):

"...I also learned that almost all Africans (Neil Turok...SA...Cameroonian...Nigerian) *always* talk about Africa. Thinking about regions not in terms of artificially established (colonial) borders is very empowering for the people in my opinion -- the whole radical socialist movement in Latin America always talks about "our fatherland America". Splintering is almost always a means to suppression..."

So I'll leave you with just that. There's no conclusion to this one.

MX missile proof

2011-05-03T12:24:00.002-04:00

Anyone catch the Andrew Bird reference?

I chipped a tooth today, took a whole corner off, in fact. Unlike in the song, I didn't fall upon the ground, but rather bit upon a rock in my rice.

I've been eating the local red rice despite the rocks because it's not possible to find unpolished imported rice, so I guess I had it coming.

Despite the whole "local vs import" hoohah I wrote about some while back, seeking local is still instinctive for me, and I wonder if I would not have eaten local rice if I knew this would happen.

I wonder how many Ghanaians chip their teeth every year. I wonder where/if/how they get them fixed.

grim piñata

2011-04-30T15:37:00.000-04:00

Just a little something I've been pondering from running around Ghana

Some folks get rid of trash like this:

(I know it doesn't seem like much, but I took this picture on short notice so I wasn't able to find a good place that had a representative amount of trash. Also, every square inch of the ground here is covered in this thin layer of trash here. real picture from northern Ghana)

Others get rid of trash like this:

(massive volume, extremely concentrated. stock photo)

In one case, a few suffer intensely (people who live near landfills). In the other, everyone suffers mildly (people also usually burn their trash, which includes plastic). In one case, the pollution is extremely concentrated, in the other, extremely widespread.

Although it is impossible to control for the sheer volume of waste in the second situation, in order to ask this question, can we still ask: which is worse?

Italian jobs

2011-04-30T13:36:00.000-04:00

Hi everyone!

If you like okra and you like risotto, you'll love my world famous original silky-smooth Okrisotto! With all the silky smoothness of okra AND risotto! (if you had as much time on your hands as I do, you'd cook up some pretty interesting food for yourself)

Italians who read this will probably be furious, but then most Europeans I've met are (not uniformly, but) on average too uptight about their "culture". The difference is that the French say "zaat ees not fwwranssaayyy!" and the Italians say "daa ta eee sa nooo ta eetaliaaaaaaaannno!"

Okay, that's enough fun at the expense of the continental folk. I've never had much reverence to culture, especially when it comes to food. Another of my world famous recipes is hommus made with edamame beans and balsamic vinegar. It's really good (all hommus is better with balsamic).

Also, don't let anybody tell you you need special rise to make risotto. Use any old rice you want!

In fact, I'm so amazing I invented a whole four different functional prefixes that describe a certain kind of risotto that I've recently developed.

Okri-sotto: risotto with okra

Curri-sotto: Curry risotto

Red-sotto: Risotto with whole red rice and beets

Waakye-sotto (waa chee sotto): Risotto and beans (waakye is a ghanaian rice and beans meal)

Combinations are possible: okurri-sotto is risotto with curry and okra.

Now, after reading this, it is your duty to run out into the world and cook up some crazy stuff. Here's another family of foods that lend itself easily to modification: the pad's.

I think "pad" (the one in "pad Thai") simply means "fried", but since it's most commonly associated with fried noodles, you can go out and make your own pad-anything.

A few of you have eaten (also world famous) pad woon in Cambridge...

Banglarang!

2011-04-17T04:24:00.001-04:00

Bangladesh: land of the Bengals. I spent the last week there, it's a place I've never been before. I thoroughly enjoyed it, and found it fascinating, wild and alive. I spent most of the time in Dhaka, the overcrowded, sometimes suffocating capital city.

As much as I hate to (I don't even know why), I reflexively started making comparisons to other places I'd been before, and later made a calculated comparison to Ghana. Bangladesh is on average poorer than Ghana: the economic production is about half that of Ghana. However, the price index is so low in Bangladesh that the the mean production or income of a Bangladeshi is the same as that of Ghana's.

There are a few other interesting things about Bangladesh too, like how the air is (relatively) clean because everything runs on CNG (Bangladesh has a big rese

Also, despite being absolutely poorer, Bangladesh has a higher Human Development Index than Ghana. It's got much much better infrastructure and is better organised (it's all relative). I couldn't figure out the reasons for a lot of these things, but will briefly touch on my thoughts in the course of this blog.

After landing, I headed almost directly to MAWTS, the acronym for which I forget exactly, which stands for something about mechanics, and agriculture, and training. This is where the solar pumping workshop that I went to Bangladesh for was held. The ride took two hours, even though the distance was less than 20 kilometres. Traffic in Dhaka is absolutely nuts.

MAWTS is where the souls of good engineers come to rest. It's a paradise filled with rows of whirring, spinning, humming machines (some amazing specimens), gently dripping coolant, the crackle and buzz of welding, and chips that go on for miles.

More than that, it's a remarkably efficient, well run, and from what I see, effective social organisation. MAWTS trains many Bangladeshis in ever mechanical, electrical, and other technical skill under the sun, with the poorest students on scholarship and the fees paid by other students subsidising them.

Because of their substantial manufacturing capacity, they also take on contracts to pay the cost of their operations. MAWTS isn't without its own problems: students often use their skills to find work in cities, where money is better, rather than in rural areas, where they are needed more. Still, this is better than many other possible problems.

Here's one of the first "differences" I picked up: you'd never find a place like MAWTS in Ghana. And it could be for a number of reasons. Perhaps Ghana lacks the same culture of meticulousness and rigour and efficiency, or perhaps Bangladeshi society is just more collective, and culture/order more strict.

I joined a crew of intrepid Swiss, an Indian, a Nepali and a Honduran, and two Bengalis the next day, for a road trip to a more northerly region of the country where we visited CMES (Centre for Mass Education in Science), a NGO founded by the brother of Muhammad Yunus, the fellow who won the Nobel peace prize for inventing microfinance.

CMES is an amazing institution. It takes kids who are (and I quote) "written off" by their societies, pulled out of school and without a future, and trains them in various income producing and entrepreneurial skills. They say that about 30% of these kids "succeed", they graduate their program and either find a good job or start their own businesses.

They say that no social program in the world even comes close to such a number, and while I haven't done the homework, I'm inclined to believe them. No program I've ever heard of even dares take on such a daunting task! (In pictures: from catching up in school to learning how to weld intricate metal furniture for sale)

India and Bangladesh, while they are very different countries, and I don't mean to make the comparison, seem like quite a hot bed of high profile, effective social movements, and I wonder if there's some kind of culture of social responsibility in these places. I can almost feel it and almost put my finger on what the concept is but I can't quite say it in words.

We also visited some treadle pumps from IDE Bangladesh's old days (they are no longer involved in the industry today, but the companies that do participate produce and install ten or twenty thousand pumps a year). Treadle pumps were also invented in Bangladesh, by a Bangladeshi and a Swiss, if I'm not wrong.

These treadle pumps help farmers in Bangladesh water vegetable gardens, and also help them achieve a third rice season each year (three is A LOT!). Bangladesh is one of the most fertile lands in the world, with rivers draining the Ganges and the Himalayas, all through a country the size of New York State (with a population about half that of the USA, can you imagine that?). All that river silt, and its tropical monsoon climate, make it one of the most productive agricultural areas in the world.

Floods are part of life in Bangladesh, and happen all the time. Villages that live near river bends often take down houses and move them to the opposite bank as the river shifts through the years.

Something else we saw worth mentioning: traditional saree weavers working on looms that used a fascinating mechanical computer with pins, ropes, rods and pulleys, to weave patterns onto the cloth. The blueprint for a pattern came in the form of a stack of wood cards joined end to end, with (depending on the machine), a pattern of screws in it, or holes drilled through.

Machine is visible above the loom (screw type)

"More moden" hole-pattern type.

The whole point of going to Bangladesh was to learn about, and develop a plan for testing, solar powered water pumping systems for small scale irrigation.

It's a yet-unproven technology, and four different programs want to test in Ghana, so we'll see what happens in the real near future!

The MAWTS test well, aka robo-city

That week in Bangladesh felt like a month, but not because it was rough or difficult, but rather that I saw and learned so many different things and went to so many different places. I had a great time!

(I like anvils)

In service of the public announcement

2011-03-29T05:08:00.000-04:00

Most traditionally long-lived peoples consume some kind of lacto-fermented food, whether it be sauerkraut, yoghurt, miso, or any of the whole world of them out there.

I've been making my own kimchi here, and so can you! It's really simple, just mix salt, sliced cabbage, onions, garlic and chiles in a bowl,

compact the mixture and put a constant pressure on it so it stays submerged in its own brine.

The submergence is important because the salt inhibits the growth of other organisms while allowing the desired lactobacteria to flourish. I like using identical bowls that have sloped flat sides (bell shaped sides make fitting more tricky): because of the way they fit in each other, you can stack two...or five on top of each other, each filled with kimchi.

A word of warning: a diet high in salt might be linked to an increased incidence of stomach cancer, so enjoy in moderation! By my reckoning the health benefits are from these foods replenishing gut flora, so just a little is enough.

-

Against all odds, my beets are surviving and thriving. I'm super excited and just built two more beds for more future beets. They're a little small (they are about 2/3 time to harvest now) this round but it's probably just the heat and dryness.

I think the rainy season will be glorious for beet growing. Right now I need to hand-water them all the time so they don't die, but when the rains come I think they'll practically grow themselves.

-

In other news, I'm going to Bangladesh on for a week this Saturday. More excitement and adventure!

hot hot heat

2011-03-16T14:39:00.000-04:00

I'd forgot what it feels like to have a hangover, thanks to years of uncharacteristically responsible drinking...

...that is, until I got here. Everytime I go out, I come home feeling like a beef jerky with a splitting headache. Even thought I drink (like) ten litres of water a day. I guess I'm pretty good at sweating it all out. Today's high: 45 (113) degrees

Oh yeah. And yesterday we had a surprise hail storm.

A courtesy picture of the countryside. I think this place is described as a "mid desert" or something like that. Much drier than the tropical south, but more vegetation (and water, when there is water) than a true desert.

Quite a pleasant place, really. Some of the biggest trees here are mango trees. I never associated mango trees with big-ness, but there they are, huge lush thick green trees surrounded by sand and dust and dead grass.

A musing

2011-03-14T07:17:00.000-04:00

A few things I'm thinking about:

1. The forecasts for tomorrow get as high as 49 (120 for the uncivilised) depending on the station. That's really hot. I think my beets are dying.

2. Having no water is much worse than having no electricity. It's the classic water-and-diamonds economics lesson, except that electricity is a much more water-like good than diamonds. Thank god the electricity is back and we've still got a few drops of water in the tank (the supply has stopped).

3. I seem to find myself in very news-isolated places. I found out about the Jogjakarta volcano eruption via an email and the Sendai earthquake via a gchat.

4. That said, I think we're missing the point about the recent disaster. Read (also in my reader feed). In contrast, the 2010 Haiti quake was 2 magnitudes (1000x) smaller, but killed 300,000++

5. I've been making (and enjoying) my own kimchi / sauerkraut. It's quick and easy: about the same amount of time to make fried cabbage. Also, every statistically long-living people eats some kind of lacto-fermented food.

Stand by for a blog (soon, with pictures) about life, work and happenings.

Now we're cooking with sauce

2011-03-09T04:03:00.000-05:00

...or is it fire? I can't figure it out. A couple of friends of mine introduced me to the saying when I was cooking dinner with them once, but they didn't know the full thing either.

As promised (a long while back), this is me cooking in my super amazing kitchen.

It's hot, messy, and more cramped than a submarine, but I'm endlessly thankful for it. It saves me a lot of money from eating out, and I get to manage my own nutrition, which is amazing. I feel even better about my situation right now than my last long term eating arrangement, which was co-op dinners and food shared between thirty people (which I really enjoyed).

These days I eat lots more vegetables than otherwise possible, and the said vegetables aren't cooked by boiling them in oil for three hours, which is the only way people seem to cook them around here.

I buy lots of stuff at local shops and market, so everybody wins. It's actually quite amazing what is locally available here. I don't think any of my food travels more than ten miles to reach me. Except sugar, which is from Burkina (which is remarkably close if you think about it)

A typical scene on market day in Navrongo. Just look at those heaps of beautiful cabbages!

I was talking to a very smart person the other day, who told me he didn't believe in the local food movement. At first, I was a little bit surprised, but realised that the real problem lay with the words "local food movement".

He was simply telling me that it didn't make sense to always buy everything as locally as possible-- and what does "local food movement" mean anyway? To illustrate the point, there is local production that doesn't make sense (if you tried to grow olives in Boston) and national-or-further production can be much more efficient (growing olives in California).

Now, I hope you're ready for an economics lesson in disguise.

As much as it's a good thing to buy as locally as possible, it's also good to eat what's in season and what makes sense, and also to accept that local might not always be the best option. In competitive industries, price is a pretty good indicator of the inputs to, and thus the efficiency of production of a good. Usually, price also includes all the carbon cost of transporting the food as well, and in a perfect "market scenario", should be taken at face value, and people "should" always buy the cheapest food.

For example, rice from Thailand is price-competitive with rice from Ghana. Depending on seasonal changes, it can even be cheaper. This is true because not only is Thailand a high volume exporter and established, experienced and efficient producer of rice, but the rice industry in Ghana hasn't yet reached a scale where it is very efficient or competitive. Therefore, grain for grain on your plate, Thai rice is probably on par with Ghanaian rice for inputs and environmental impact, etc.

(Unless Thailand has some kind of crazy subsidy for rice production)

Somewhere this rule doesn't work (for reason just mentioned) is in the US, where huge and irrational subsidies skew the price of corn and everything that it is an input to: pretty much everything except for vegetables, and staples that are not corn. The effect is particularly strong for meat.

Getting back to my locale, it's not a bad thing to buy non-local rice when in Ghana. It could help you keep your teeth longer (most Ghana rice comes with rocks in it).

People still buy and eat local rice here (myself included, I like it because it's unpolished = more nutritious) but as people get richer and generally develop a taste for whiter rice, it might not last against the competition. Then again, the industry might evolve too.

I don't think it'll be a terrible thing either if the rice business in Ghana goes. The market for food here is so huge that farmers could easily grow maize instead (where they have a much greater advantage over other producers than with rice) or vegetables, both of which there is a huge demand for.

The other thing I've been thinking about lately is how TV gives everyone the wrong idea about cooking. I had a strange mental block and could only think of how a popular show like Iron Chef convinces people to aspire to make, eat, and enjoy impractical, unsustainable, extravagant and unnecessary food. I think this is probably true for the average cookbook too.

It's not that I don't appreciate the artistry on a show like that, it's definitely entertained me before.

What I'm saying is that we need a super supa fly bachelor-cooking TV show, where the competitors are scored on how well they cook but also on how little effort they put in. Also, they're not allowed to use anything that you couldn't find in the average home.

I think it's totally possible to cook awesomely within these bounds, and the common person really needs a show that resonates with them, a show they can dig. To this end, my super supa fly bachelor cooking TV show is designed to reward efficiency and convenience (and accessibility) as well as innovation, striving to produce cutting edge recipes with minimal time, effort, and resources.

I also have a theory on how it will save the world.

why walk when you can roll?

2011-03-07T10:56:00.000-05:00

can I get an amen!

2011-03-05T12:47:00.000-05:00

Not only is this hilarious, it's everywhere, always written this way. Nobody ever gets it write.

garden growing!

2011-03-03T09:39:00.000-05:00

my beets sprouted! What a pleasant surprise, to see something come of my labour.

And to know I have created life! Well, sort of. It made me feel for a moment like this

they're tiny. I can't wait to eat them.

garden grow

2011-02-28T12:54:00.000-05:00

I sure hope it does.

Behold, my super duper greywater management solution. The long straight pipe waters some plantains, whilst the pipe with the bend in it waters what will be a vegetable bed.

I was quite appalled to find, when I arrived here, that my shower and my sink both drained out into the yard. Hello sir, we're in a desert. And it's the hot dry season right now.

On top of that, the sink and bath drained out of two different pipes. However, I've finally managed to reroute the water for good use. The kitchen drains to a much trickier location, so for the moment I'm just washing all my plates into a bucket in order to use the water, until I find a better solution.

-

Constructing this system was a lot more trouble than I initially envisioned. The connections leaked. The end of the sink-drain was a sharp right angle and it was really hard to get a good fit/seal with the transfer pipe.

To make things ten times worse, PVC is notoriously hard to "reduce" (neck down to a smaller diameter) so I opted to build the entire system out of one-and-quarter inch size pipe (which is what the house pipes are) rather than a much easier quarter inch, for example.

The biggest problem it created was for the vegetable watering setup. Since the final delivery pipe is so large, it will never flood completely-- which would make it conveniently drip from every hole at the same rate

I had to carefully cut, and re-cut, and prop it at a good slope, and bend the pipe by hand into a straight-but-slightly-curved shape, and carefully adjust the alignment of the holes to get an even drip along the whole length.

After many hours of work (including moving rocks, composting, digging, and hitting and repairing a water supply line to my bathroom --I have no idea what it was doing in the middle of the yard), My system is finally complete. I still have to move some more rocks and dirt to fill up the area around the long pipe to reduce the tripping hazard.

Still, I'm quite proud of the work thus far. The second-biggest plantain is really happy (the biggest one is dead). It sprouts a new leaf every week.

I've sown beet seeds! I really hope they sprout soon. No chickens yet.

more than just biscuits

2011-02-25T03:23:00.000-05:00

(;

You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not

2011-02-22T10:42:00.000-05:00

Most people who found out I was heading to Ghana asked me if I was going there for humanitarian or even missionary work. This was especially true with Singaporeans. I'm not sure how I feel about that. It's certainly a little disappointing, and demonstrates a very narrow world view. Of course, it's not the faults of the people who hold them.

Singaporeans grow up quite sheltered, and most of them probably still think Africa is a land of starving children and that the only thing to do there is to preach the word of God or hand out sacks of rice and build houses.

This is quite the contrary to what I'm actually doing here!

I've had to explain my job to a lot of people, and it comes out different every time. It's actually a bit difficult and tricky to explain. Here's one attempt, for your benefit. But first, allow me to apologise. I'm trying really hard for most of my posts to be more pictures than words. This one is a big offender, but I had to write it, as much for posterity as for a convenient link to send to people if they ask what I do and I don't want to come up with an explanation.

I promise it will never happen again.

I work at IDE in Ghana

IDE's tag line is "creating income opportunities for the rural poor". I think that's a pretty good description, but the devil (details) is still under the hood. How exactly does it do this?

IDE does a special kind of business and industry development, focused on products and services that will give people who use them better options and opportunities to increase their income. To this end, it acts as some mixture of a coach and consultant to all the parties involved along the way: manufacturers, dealers, service providers, and farmers.

A key difference between IDE and other "do-good" institutions is the principle that the work of local businesses and industry will achieve poverty reduction. IDE doesn't actually do anything to stop poverty, but it helps train people and build systems to be good at it.

Furthermore, IDE operates in the "real world". While IDE is itself a donor-funded non-profit, everything they help build or create in a country is self-supporting, so as to persist long after IDE leaves the picture and to flourish and grow beyond that. Another key difference is simply that IDE ever leaves the picture at all: the businesses it works with are cultivated to become independent and self sufficient, in start contrast to the work of most "development" agencies.

I think they have the right idea. It's hardly romantic (like education or health or peace programs tend to be), especially not in the details, but I think it's an equally worthwhile cause with very achievable goals.*

So, this description is all still very theoretical, and what do I do, anyway?

Here's what IDE has done so far in Ghana (there are many more examples of what IDE does in a book called Out of Poverty, by its founder Paul Polak):

IDE found that there are a lot of (poor, small land area) farmers in Ghana who grow vegetables irrigated by hand. They carry water in buckets from rivers, or lift it from wells. By IDE's assessment, if they had more efficient means to use or obtain water, they could grow much more vegetables (the demand is huge in Ghana) and make a lot more money, especially during the dry season where water is scarce and vegetables are expensive.

IDE tested some foot-powered pumps for lifting water out of wells and found farmers' responses favourable. They worked with manufacturers who were willing to produce them and connect them to dealers who were willing to sell them, as well as a credit organisation who was willing to help farmers finance them.

I work on a few things. One of them is a system for monitoring the impact or result of this new product on the lives of the people who use them. Another related thing is a set of protocols for testing and getting data on new products for Ghana, such as drip irrigation kits that are on their way here right now. The last thing is improvements to different parts of the system where pumps get made and make their way to a farmers' fields where they are installed. It's quite a mixed bag of things.

So this is my curious and somewhat bizarre first job. So far, it's going well. In the coming weeks, you'll see (I plan to put up) loads of pictures of and very few words about all the goings on over here in Ghana.

*An aside: I think that every initiative that will get anywhere in saving the world** is rooted in business. Profitable ventures are the only things that reliably grow and multiply. A ton of successful health and social ventures in "developing" countries rely on innovative business models to deliver much needed products and services to the people who have the poorest access to them. This is a shining example.

**Not that I'm trying to save the world or think it's something to strive for at all***. "Save the world" is such a vague idea anyway!

***That said, I do have some principles. I'd much rather help poor people get richer than rich people get richer, for example, and I'd rather repair the environment rather than damage it.

small joys

2011-02-20T11:01:00.000-05:00

-eating a mango so ripe it was like drinking mango juice

-washing my face afterwards

Hunky dory

2011-02-13T09:15:00.000-05:00

It's hot here. Easily 40 degrees at noon, usually even higher. For those of you who use uncivilised units, that's 104 degrees.

I'm getting used to life in Bolga, slowly feeling out all the different bits of living.

-

This means taking trips out to Navrongo and Paga where IDE's work happens, taking everything in, trying to understand it all and fit into the spheres of work I've been assigned to (in a blog, coming soon!).

It was great to finally see the countryside and put faces to the farmers that IDE's work in Ghana (so far) revolves around. Every time I go to "the field", I get a headache. I wonder if it's the heat, or sun, or dehydration. I try to drink as much water as I can, but I can get never my pee to turn clear no matter how hard I try....

the road to Burkina

a desert oasis, complete with ornamental Baobab

a wild crocodile!

this old man is an amazing farmer (and a total sweetheart)

just check out his farm!

-

My humble abode is really coming together. This weekend, I went wild and bought a complete kitchen including a fifteen kilo LPG bottle, which definitely weighed more than fifteen kilos full as I carried it home on the back of a motorbike.

Next week: cupboards, beds and furniture.

My nutrition is probably twice as good now that I can cook for myself and no longer need to eat out. I can finally eat all the beans I want to, and loads of tomatoes and cabbages and vegetables that aren't cooked by boiling them in oil for an hour. I almost took photos of myself cooking but couldn't bring myself to (sorry).

Next time. Pinkie promise.

-

Another thing I'm getting terribly excited about is revising the water systems in my house. Right now, the kitchen sink, shower and bathroom sink all empty to different drains and patches of dirt around the house, which is a pretty sad and inefficient system for a desert.

By my reckoning, I could build a vegetable bed for every water outlet of the house with just a little bit of water routing PVC magic. I hear that most plants appreciate the extra nitrogen, potassium, and other goodies in mildly soapy water.

-

I'm also getting familiar with the neighbourhood, walking to corner stores and vegetable stands for groceries. I met by pure chance a gentleman on the street who'd just started a NGO doing water and sanitation infrastructure and education around the area. He was a neat guy. We sat and had soft drinks (since he's muslim) and talked about our lives and our work.

People here are amazingly friendly and good natured. The other day, a child stopped me on the street to tell me I'd dropped a few cedis (dollars), and nobody I meet here or who talks to me tries to sell me anything or gets in my face like people do in Accra and Kumasi.

Life here is nice.

Really nice. I tried to capture it in this blog but can't do it justice.

How indiscreet!

2011-02-09T11:37:00.000-05:00

Well hello there, gentle reader.

I don't really have anything terribly exciting to report, except that I've moved to Bolgatanga in the Upper East region of Ghana.

It doesn't feel incredibly strange or new, although I think that perhaps it should.

-

I rode in a (crowded) car with my (heroic) boss, our (fearless) driver, and a (motley) crew of metal shop owners and an engineer, making over 800 kilometres of rough, potholed, checkpointed roads in two days. We drew straws to figure out the order of who got to sit in the back seat.

We watched the scenery change from this

(which isn't even as green as it gets) to this

(which isn't even as brown as it gets)

Up here, I've settled into a delightful little compound which contains a delightful little office in front where I work and delightful little house in the back where I stay. The walls are a simply delightful shade of pink, matching the red, dusty earth.

Sam (pictured) heads up the program here in the north, and he's awesome. We get along great, and see eye to eye on how we should work, and what we can do to improve systems and solve problems.

We also share a profound interest in turning our yard into a vegetable garden, routing greywater to feed our banana trees, and other gimmickry. Furnishing an empty house is something I'm completely unfamiliar with, and every bed and broom and bucket I put in it feels like a small victory.

-

So although this is all quite lovely, it doesn't seem substantial enough to me to build a blog out of. I don't feel very agent in this whole process...yet, but rather that life is stringing me along for a ride.

Rest assured, you'll read about all the juiciest news right here when the Real Work starts, when I start keeping chickens, when I get my hands on a bicycle and run crazy around this desert.

-

Here's an interesting fact to chew on: where I am looks and feels like a desert, but actually gets more rain than Iowa (one of the most productive agricultural regions in the world).

The Upper East gets no rain for most of the year, and then gets over a metre of it in just three months, around june to august.

sama sama di mana mana

2011-02-03T16:58:00.000-05:00

I've finally made it to Accra (after some delays),

and I'm strangely comfortable again. This has happened too frequently over the past two weeks. I left comfort in Oecusse to settle into Dili and feel at home for a day, before a brief stay with similar feelings in Bali, an excellent week in Singapore, a few days in Abu Dhabi and now, Accra.

Accra is big, and my neighbourhood is new to me, but I feel at home already: walking around the dusty streets and buying vegetables from the nice women who own a produce stand down the road.

However, I'm not going to be around here for much longer. I'm discussing my work arrangements with my (super amazing) boss and it looks like I will be sent to the hot, dry and windy Upper East region, where most of the action is right now. It sounds really really exciting. Much more exciting than I make it sound and much more than IDE lets on here.

This evening, as I wandered around the dusty neighbourhood, I watched huge flocks of bats fly across the sky. I think there could have easily been a few million bats. Looking up, there were thousands of bats in the sky at one go, and they never stopped coming.

I was completely speechless. Then I reached for my camera, and found that like an idiot, I'd left it in my room. I'll have my camera on me next time, and future posts will be full of Ghanaian wonder.

I need a compass. I'm really surprised I haven't bought one yet. I always navigate using the cardinal directions, and I usually get my bearings from the sun.

It's easiest in the morning and evenings (by finding east and west) but gets really confusing around noon, especially here at the equator. It's hard to tell north and south when the sun is directly overhead, even more so since at noon, shadows don't always point north or south because of the Earth's seasonal tilts.

Therefore, I need a compass. I don't know why I don't own one yet.

Terminal man

2011-02-01T16:26:00.000-05:00

Okay, I've officially been in this airport for twenty four hours. I think that's long enough to say I've lived here.

Flight cancellations (riots in Cairo), new tickets, last minute surprises and calls to Ghana to get proof of employment, I've done it all.

Eating, reading, sleeping, exercise, music, movies, I could live in here...if I really had to. Of course, it's better than farting around outside in Dubai.

When I woke up this morning, I couldn't find my little clarinet in its little briefcase. When I finally went to the airport police's lost and found office, they told me someone probably took it thinking it had money in it.

Good day to you, sir.

Just like gazpacho

2011-02-01T11:21:00.000-05:00

The Singapore education system is weird. Silly, even. All through primary school (which the colonies call elementary school) we had these big exams twice a year. The English ones always ended in an essay. Some questions asked us to discuss a topic or idea, others gave us a title or a sentence to start.

I hated these page long exercises in making up bullshit to satisfy teachers.

When I was in secondary one (which the colonies call the seventh grade) I had a friend named Geoffrey. Geoffrey was (and still is, I think) a very uncommon person. He (we) played a bunch of video games, and he introduced me to an Ender's Game-like (similarly high quality) series of science fiction books and other neat stuff. He is also extremely christian. I wonder how he is now.

For one of the big exams that year (either mid-year or year final), we had a particularly prickly list of questions. I'm going to tell you the story of the question Geoffrey chose and his answer, because it is pure, distilled genius.

It's brilliant because of its sheer ironic and comedic genius in the face of the stodgiest education system in the world, and brilliant because of the unlikely person who wrote it.

I remember it like it was only yesterday.

Keep in mind that the person who wrote this was twelve years old. Notice how he displays all the marks of an excellent author. The central conflict is simple, but despite the leanness of detail and characters, each is substantial and important. Geoffrey details and times his tale carefully, spiking it with irony and humour that is both innocent and self-aware. He demonstrates patience and instinct for writing and storytelling far beyond his age. You'll see.

I used some, but not many liberties in reproducing this text. I wonder if the original still exists.

---

PS: it's even more entertaining to have a friend read this to you

Question 1:

"Revenge is a dish best served cold"

Answer:

Revenge is a dish best served cold, just like gazpacho.

Pierre was an excellent gazpacho chef. In fact, he was the world's best gazpacho chef, having won the World Gazpacho Federation's Best Gazpacho Chef title five years running. This year, he prepared to take the title for a sixth time. Pierre traveled all over France, selecting the freshest tomatoes, the crispiest onions and the most fragrant herbs to make the perfect gazpacho yet again.

However, Pierre was not the only chef with his eyes on the trophy. His nemesis Edouardo, with whom he had a long and bitter rivalry, also had designs to win Best Gazpacho Chef. Edouardo owned a restaurant just down the street from Pierre's, and it did not help their relationship that Pierre consistently had better business, and that Edouardo had come in second to Pierre in the Best Gazpacho Chef competition for five years running.

Under the lights at the stadium, hundreds of chefs were hard at work, slicing tomatoes and crushing garlic. The whirr of blenders filled the air. As the clock counted down, Pierre put the finishing touches on his world famous gazpacho, and put a couple of cold packets into the bright red soup. A family secret passed down through generations, the cold packets chilled the gazpacho to the perfect temperature.

Unfortunately for Pierre, his cold packets were not the last thing to go into his gazpacho. Not willing to leave the contest up to the judges, Edouardo had discovered Pierre's secret and slipped a pair of hot packets into his gazpacho while he was unaware.

To add insult to treachery, he stole two of Pierre's cold packets and put them into his own soup. With Pierre out of the way, and his own soup perfectly chilled, Edouardo won the contest by a fair margin. Pierre was the laughing stock of the World Gazpacho Federation for serving warm gazpacho.

Pierre was dejected, and vowed that he would take back the title that was rightfully his. He spent most of the next year in seclusion, honing his skills and perfecting his recipes. His wife and daughter were very supportive of him, in spite of his very public embarrassment believed that he had been sabotaged.

The next year, Pierre returned to the World Gazpacho Federation against all expectations, and was received with laughter and sneers. As contest was about to begin, Edouardo and Pierre glared at each other across the stadium, knives drawn.

Once again, the stadium was alive with chefs mincing onions and chopping peppers. The air was full with the sound of buzzing blenders. As time drew near, Pierre put the finishing touches on his gazpacho and dropped a pair of cold packets into the soup.

Edouardo planned to ruin Pierre and take the title for the second time, and once again whilst his attention was diverted, slipped two hot packets into Pierre's soup, and took two cold packets for his own.

Little did Edouardo know that they were not merely cold packets that he had stolen, but new extra-cold packets that Pierre had developed over the last year. The extra-cold packets were much too cold and quickly turned his gazpacho into ice. Pierre's gazpacho, with two hot and two extra-cold packets in it, came to the perfect temperature.

Pierre reclaimed his title to cheers and applause, and Edouardo was expelled from the World Gazpacho Federation for unsporting conduct. Pierre went on to expand his restaurant and write a number of highly acclaimed cookbooks, while Edouardo suffered a nervous breakdown and is now in a mental institution.

Okay, I took a few too many liberties with the last paragraph. The moral of the story is, don't f--- with the French.

boule de gomme

2011-01-30T03:03:00.000-05:00

Easter man was here

Woon was also here

Location: Hatta, UAE

body rock

2011-01-30T02:41:00.000-05:00

I was going to write this soppy and awestruck blog about how amazing the human body and mind are in their characteristics and abilities.

Instead, I'll just speak briefly about a few hacks and other exercises I've been working on and some other mumble jumble.

As we all know, our minds and bodies are very plastic to the environment. People who live in high altitudes have very high red blood cell counts and forearm blood flow, people who climb from a very young age have wide shoulders and big ape-indexes, people living in highly ethnically diverse places can be native speakers of four or five languages.

Our bodies and minds are also extremely sensitive to our own modification.

I was reading about free divers (shortly after getting scuba certified) and found their physiology incredible. Huge lung volume, incredible breath volume-flow-rate, extremely low resting heart rate, and of course the ability to hold breath for a long long time. They have everything: strength, endurance and efficiency.

What a wickedly great ability to harvest oxygen and use it effectively, I thought. If I had some of these skills, it would make me better not just at swimming and diving but at everything I do. It would be like a firmware upgrade.

I'm also certain that free divers' abilities are not simply genetically inherited. I think they were cultivated.

Free diver breathing exercises (the ones I found, at least) are interesting, designed to force the body to build better lungs and improve other systems, but also to alter its programming to perform better in low/deprived oxygen environments.

Needless to say I haven't been keeping up with them very well. Doing a good, effective set of exercises means sitting in one place (sometimes walking) and being very focused for more than half an hour. Doing it more than once a week (or month) is just too much inertia for me to handle. Free divers probably do them for hours every day.

What was shocking was how well I responded despite my lack of commitment. By my second session (a month after the first) I could hold my breath sitting down for two and a half minutes. Pretty shocking, eh?

I haven't done the exercises in about three months now. Hopefully I will get my act together soon.

Other hacks and exercises on my plate : object manipulation (spinning), dancing (tango etc), martial arts (capoeira etc), free running, coconut tree climbing, language learning, musical instruments (clarinet etc), ambidexterity...

I wonder what I'm actually trying to achieve.

Ayo!

2011-01-27T21:09:00.001-05:00

...and I'm off!

This week in Singapore was great. I caught up on sleep, ate a lot, did almost everything on my lists and got along really well with the fam. Now I feel ready.

See you in Ghana!

Mystère et boule de gomme

2011-01-25T00:02:00.000-05:00

Timor is one of a surprising number of countries that use the US dollar as their currency. I've always found this idea fascinating, and puzzled over the idea quite a bit.

Where do they get their US dollars from? (They obviously don't print it, but they don't get bills by simply pulling paper money out of the US economy either: that would affect the US monetary system, actually causing disinflation)

How does the US feel about this?

Is it safe for (someone like you or me) to use a currency not guaranteed by the government of the country we are in?

I did some homework on this, and it turns out that it's much less wild and crazy than I thought.

First of all, the US actually encourages other countries to use its dollar. It helps supply their paper currency. This actually helps stabilise volatile emerging economies by fixing their interest rates and inflation to the (presumably) more stable and conservative US economy and monetary policy.*

*(although it's also criticised for contributing to the attitudes and sentiments that brought about the last economic crisis)

Having other people use their dollars is actually in the US's interest: it makes countries like Ecuador and Panama much more reliable trading partners.

You don't have to read on:

If you haven't already figured out, I'm a pretty nerdy guy. Secretly, I read four or five different economics blogs. On one of them, I found an interesting bit of theory and speculation:

Gregory Mankiw, a high-profile and extremely influential US economics advisor (whose book on macroeconomics I used in college) famously wants to abolish the penny.

What does this spell for a country like El Salvador, which uses US currency, and which also has such a low price index that many common transactions happen in cents, and where people often need to break dollar bills to get change?

Could a country like that cope with adhering to US policy or would transaction volumes become impractical? What if they kept the penny legal tender and all the pennies from the US flowed there? How much would that be? (Billions?) (Is the size of their economy such that) it would cause catastrophic hyperinflation?

I find currencies with "outrageous" units endearing, like Indonesian Rupiah, where it's about 10000 to the dollar, and 1 rupiah is meaningless. Ghana used to have a similar currency but they have since issued new currency with 1/10000 of the value.

I know, isn't it a shame?

Some charm remains: people in Ghana still talk in old currency even though they use new paper: they say "thousand" to mean ten cents" and "ten thousand" or sometimes "ten" to mean a dollar.

Razor bread

2011-01-25T00:00:00.000-05:00

Leaving Timor was surreal. Because of how things panned out, I flew from Oecusse to Dili, had a day's errands and layover there, flew to Bali, had a spare day and a work call, and then flew back to Singapore.

It felt like a dream, especially since I was drifting in and out of sleep on all the flights and my mind couldn't really anchor itself on any one thing while I was still awake. The scenery was changing too quickly.

I looked out the window of the airplane as we approached Singapore, thinking we were over Malaysia but recognising nothing. I frantically checked my cardinal directions as the plane flew big circles and just as I thought that we were definitely in an imaginary place, we flew in over the Singapore harbour.

I looked down to see a fleet of huge oil tankers and massive cargo ships, more than I had ever seen in my life.

That old Talking Heads song jumped into my head: "This is not my beautiful house! This is not my beautiful wife! How did I get here!?"

I've hung out a lot with an old friend (one of my oldest) these last few days in Singapore.

We don't see each other very often, but it's always felt easy to be comfortable around each other again.

I used to talk with him about music, girls, food, The Future, you know, when life was perhaps simple. Now we talk about how Singapore is broken and why we're never coming home.

It feels like the final nail in a coffin for my youthful innocence.

Back into the wild

2011-01-21T19:39:00.000-05:00

Well, friends, it's over. I don't really have much to glow about that I haven't already said on the Kopernik blog, but for the benefit of folks who don't read it (you should read this one), Timor was great. I will miss it there.

I didn't expect it to be such a good time, I didn't expect to enjoy myself so immensely, to be so close with the FEEO folks, to meet such neat and such terrible expats, or for Timor to be such a strange and fascinating place.

Now it's back to Singapore limbo for a bit before Ghana. My Indonesian is (terrible but) now better than my Chinese, I haven't cut my hair in half a year, and everyone tells me I've lost weight (is that possible?) (I don't want to lose weight!). It's time to get razor blades and rabies shots, restock my supply of nuts and update all the program packages on my ubuntu machine (:

I'm so tired these days. I've been falling asleep in every car and aeroplane I get into, which is strange considering it didn't happen in Oecusse.

It probably means nothing to you, but I'm extremely pleased with the title of my last Kopernik blog.

"Nada dan irama" is a Timorese joke in Indonesian for "you're welcome" in Tetum, and ending on this note makes me feel all warm and fuzzy.

plasticities

2011-01-15T09:13:00.000-05:00

The one line I get most often here is "are you Japanese?" to which I usually answer, "no, I'm Chinese, from Singapore..."

Recently, I've started to answer this question with a hint of sadness in my voice, but it's not why you think I do. Indeed, when people ask me "are you Chinese?" I snap back, "yes, from Singapore!"

I thought at one point I really wanted them to think I was Japanese so I could tell them I was from Singapore instead, but perhaps I just want to be Japanese.

It's one of those super busy work times, hence the silence. Work blogs up soon.

Michael is a really difficult name to spell, if you don't already know how to do it. Indeed, the correct spelling of it might be one that makes the least sense of all.

People in Timor struggle with my name, and often come up with creative new ways to spell it. I actually really like it-- I've seen such great inventions as "Maiquel" and "Maycell", all of which are more phonetic than "Michael".

My favourite so far: "Maiko". Maybe I'll change my name to that someday.

old timer

2011-01-11T13:11:00.000-05:00

I cheated and back-dated this one so it seems like I haven't left a long gap between posts.

If it's any consolation, I chose a binary time an date.

In other news, I got an immunoglobulin injection to make me completely rabies proof.

Awesome T-shirts from Timor

2011-01-09T23:35:00.000-05:00

Have I told you yet that the coolest clothes end up in Timor? I guess they filter in from all the places that donate old clothes to poor countries.

Old Obey, D.A.R.E, and Linux T-shirts, fake brand-name stuff, old "Singapore: Garden City" T-shirts that are so vintage even I want a piece of them. Here are two good ones I managed to get pictures of.

zomg!1

2011-01-09T23:21:00.000-05:00

Here's a lesson in empathy I didn't plan to learn. Two nights ago, I was walking home from dinner, enjoying the cool night after the evening rains. I had actually turned down the offer of a motorbike ride home.

On the say home, I was bit by a dog. The little son of a bitch ran up from behind me as I was walking away from his house and bit me without warning on the leg. I was surprised and uncommonly upset, and looked back in anger, shouting at the dog as it retreated. Then I took out my phone to shine light on my leg. Although the bite hadn't hurt very much, I was bleeding.

After cursing out loud for a little bit, I stood stunned for a few moments: the reality of being bit by a dog in just about the most remote place possible to be bit by a dog was really ruining my evening.

I realised in that moment --maybe realised is the wrong word, because I felt and understood and experienced-- what getting bit by a zombie feels like. In all those beautiful, violent, poetic movies that we love so, we feel dread and sympathy for someone after the perhaps get through the zombie attack and realise they are wounded, and have but hours or even seconds before the infection turns them into a zombie themselves.

Still we don't really know what it feels like or what goes through the person's head. Well, I knew right then, as I looked down at my bleeding leg. It didn't help that I'd read up about rabies in the past and knew about how it attacks the nervous system and how the vaccine has to be administered before it becomes too late. This was it. I was going to die from rabies in Oecusse... After an intensely painful corruption of my consciousness as it took over my nervous system.

It's interesting to note that many zombies as portrayed as humans might be if they had rabies: think of 28 Days later or Zombieland (excellent movies by the way).

The rest of the story is slightly less dramatic, if at times panicked: I came to my senses and went to the hospital, where I found they didn't have any vaccines. I tried the UN mission next but had trouble getting in without ID and without referral. Finally, they let me in and I got a vaccine by an Indonesian doctor and a Zimbabwean nurse, who were just as surprised and taken off guard by my arrival as I was thankful for their help.

I felt relieved, but also sad and guilty, it seemed like a privilege to be treated (I felt) so well (or so fortunately): I don't think every person in Oecusse, if put in my situation, would have had the same luck and the same outcome as I did.

Well. This is a story for the grandkids: how I didn't die from rabies in Oecusse. The excitement isn't over, however: the post-exposure schedule for the vaccine means that I will need an injection five days after I arrive in Ghana.

Stay tuned for more excitement and adventure, here on Monkey Music / Woon's Tunes

Quickly,

2011-01-07T20:06:00.000-05:00

The latest in Oecusse. Well, the latest you can read. New news is in the works already!

I smell a jinx

2011-01-06T06:03:00.001-05:00

Perhaps there is absolutely no connection to the blog post, but the price of petrol in Oecusse has recently tripled, almost overnight.

I kid you not. It's because of sudden problems with petrol crossing the border from Indonesia into Timor.

Petrol stands that used to stock barrels and have hundreds of litre-bottles out for motorcycles stood empty and derelict. I think the problem has eased as prices are coming down slowly.

The post-apocalypse of oil starved Mad Max wasteland didn't come, and my petrol tank is still full from before.

Anyway, cheerios.

"On the ground" as they say

2011-01-04T00:37:00.000-05:00

Life imitates works.

I've recently been really busy, an haven't had time for too many adventures outside of work. I've done a bit of snorkeling and socialising, but I spend most of my time doing things like this and this. Well, they are adventures in their own right I suppose.

Sorry for the long gap. I'm doing a double release to make it up to you. Another work blog is also hot in the press, and you'll be the first to hear when it comes out.

Banking on a fact

2011-01-04T00:08:00.000-05:00

On an uncharacteristically lavish saturday afternoon, I found myself on a boat eating nice food (I ate an oyster, which I found isn't my favourite food: they had loads of extras and I wanted to see if I liked them or not. I hear they are really nutritious), drinking so-so bottle wine (I've always been more of a box person) and Australian (south of the beer line*) beer, diving in the sea and hanging out with some Dili expats.

*It is not certain where the beer line is exactly is, but some facts about it cannot be disputed: Germany is north of the beer line, Spain is south of the beer line.

I'll spare you the details of the afternoon, but here is an interesting story I picked up. Quinn is English descended, I believe, and grew up in Zimbabwe, doing Safaris first and later becoming a contract pilot (flying in Brazil, South Africa, and Timor among other places). He was adamant that the quality of life and value for money are unparalleled in Zimbabwe and really enjoyed living and growing up there.

This challenges my dystopian picture of the country, and he's not the first person to tell me this. I met another Zimbabwean on a flight to Ghana once who told me the same. Anyway, White Africans are another story for another time and something I don't know much about anyway. On to the story:

Blown somewhat out of proportion by international news, hyperinflation only lasted a few years in Zimbabwe. Certainly, the inflation was terrible (being able to watch shop employees change the prices of goods in real time) but it isn't as much a key part of history as we might perceive.

An interesting feature of those time was an economy that developed organically in Zimbabwe that is (a little) reminiscent of a movie that some of you might have seen: the gasoline economy.

Because Zim dollars had such an unstable value and were worth less and less every second you held them in your hand, Zimbabweans settled on a different currency. They would buy petrol as quickly as they could spend their money, sometimes storing up hundreds of thousands of litres. Because petrol is relatively durable, held its value (and often appreciated) it was a safe way to store . People would trade a few litres of petrol for services rendered and thousands of litres for big jobs.

I think it's absolutely brilliant that this system evolved on its own without planning or agreement, or government approval. It seems to have spread virally, if you will.

The neatest thing about this is that it is an (possible the one) instance in history that a currency had great practical value. Paper money, other than the numbers printed on them, aren't good for much other than scribbling notes on, wiping up messes or snorting...stuff through. Petrol, on the other hand, is used everyday. Compared to the utility of petrol, coins and bars of gold and silver are but shiny paperweights.

I'm trained in economics and also an instinctively practical person: I often have a hard time reconciling the need for a quickly, easily portable and tradable currency with the fact that we (today) are, in fact, exchanging bits of paper with ink on them (or worse yet, electronic records of them). That governments "guarantee" their dollars isn't the most reassuring thing for people (such as myself).

Needless to say, I was terribly excited to hear this story. It made the whole day on the boat worthwhile.

blogging from the hip

2010-12-19T07:53:00.000-05:00

You haven't heard from me for awhile because I've been (believe it or not) really busy. This describes some parts of life here, and the last week has been super extra crazy. There will be an entry for that soon.

High rate of compression

2010-12-13T22:21:00.000-05:00

For my next feat, in a single haiku I will summarise the United States of America, Singapore, Timor Leste, and many other countries around the world. Here we go:

Inequitable
Socioeconomic
Stratification

I realise this is a real brain twister, so I will elaborate each word into a haiku:

Inequitable

Unfair or partial:
Of treatments, situations
In society

Socioeconomic

About matters of
Wealth, income, and resulting
Structure or order

Stratification

I refer here to
The distinct separation
Of social classes

still kicking redux

2010-12-08T22:50:00.000-05:00

I'm still kicking too, by the way, after almost a month of drinking solar-disinfected water. I haven't bought a plastic bottle in a month.

I also refuse styrofoam, which is waaay too commonly used around these parts. You should refuse styrofoam too (watch just 1:20 of this, starting at 1:00).

Okay. PSA over, on to the story.

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Whilst this happened a few weeks ago and has since filtered down in my memory, at the time it was one of my most visceral experiences. There are no pictures (you'll soon see why), not that I particularly wanted to take any.

It all started when I got home one night, and a strange man who was talking with the security guard came up to me and asked me for ten dollars. Because of the time of night, and how sketchy his story was, I awkwardly extracted myself and went to bed. The security guard told me the next day never to trust that man: he's "not okay" in the head.

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A few days later, I was sitting in the park watching some kids play, jumping and swinging from low branches on a tree. They performed some real feats of strength and flexibility. A small child came over to hang out, and sat on a low wall in front of me.

It took me a few minutes to notice, and when I did I was horrified: his left foot was badly infected. He'd suffered some kind of injury to the ball, but the infection had spread to the whole foot: it was painful for him when I touched the top of his foot near the ankle. When his foot swelled too big for him to put a sandal on it, he limped without one. The soft skin had been punctured, and the wound was leaking and dirty.

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After almost freaking out, I managed talk to Aldo (the boy) through some of his friends who could understand my terrible Indonesian. No, he didn't want to go to the hospital. Yes, his parents knew about the foot. I told him he HAD to go to the hospital TODAY and offered to take him. He refused, and got up to go home.

I wanted to pick Aldo up and carry him to the hospital, but I made the better decision: to go to his home and talk to his parents.

Now, who else would has father be than the sketchy man who asked me for money? This is the part that made me saddest. They were a huge family of five kids, four plus parents (twenty three, nine, six and less than one) lived in a tiny wood-and-thatch house (out of place in a really nice part of town). The father and mother chewed betel nut and smoked cigarettes constantly, and there was a huge pile of glass bottles in the yard.

They told me that his foot had been injured a week ago, but he had refused to go to the hospital. The only reason I heard from any of them was that the boy was scared. I told them their son would have to go to the hospital TODAY and offered to take him. They agreed, and their son burst into screams and crying. I'm sure you could hear him from town, and nobody could do anything to console him, and he almost passed out from bawling so hard.

His father could neither intimidate or convince him to stop and to go to the hospital, and the mother at one point started laughing at him. They eventually put him, limp, onto a motorcycle and took him. I followed.

I really don't blame the kid for not wanting to go to the hospital. Growing up in a home where the parents clearly lack concern for their children's health and education, I'm sure he had a horrible idea of needles and saws and lack of anaesthesia. Well. He was right about one thing.

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I was glad I didn't take Aldo to the hospital alone. At least this time, they didn't use anaesthetic. I watched a doctor cut a hole to drain and disinfect the foot, and had to help his father hold his feet still while the doctor worked.

It must have been intensely painful from the screams. Pus and blood flowed freely. I watched the doctor flush the wound with antiseptic (using a syringe to push iodine under the skin) and then put some antiseptic-soaked fabric under the skin of the abscess. Scalpel, syringe, gauze, forceps, bandage.

Fortunately, after you've watched a goat slaughtered, you're ready for anything, and I managed to see the whole thing through.

We left with his foot in a huge bandage, and some antibiotics. When they rode off home, I was convinced the boy hated me. He certainly didn't look happy. His parents were strangely grateful for two people who'd watch their son's foot swell to twice its size and not done anything about it for days. I was simply in shock that all this happened before lunch on Saturday.

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When I checked back on Monday night to make sure Aldo had been taking his meds and had gone for a checkup, I found only his mother there, who told me that her husband was too drunk from the night before to take him to the hospital today; they would go tomorrow.

I was stunned by how matter-of-factly she said it. Could she have taken him? The father came back later, and seemed not to think it a big deal that he had missed the checkup.

They went the next day, according to the mother.

I saw Aldo at the port after a week away from Oecusse, and he looked good. I don't think he hates me (he waves at me when he sees me now, and it doesn't look like he's waving his middle finger) . Except for some scarring, his foot looks normal, and it no longer pains him.

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I'm not sure how to feel or think about this whole ordeal. On one hand, I'm pretty sure it saved Aldo a foot, and I hope it taught him, if not his parents, the importance of getting injuries and illnesses addressed early. On the other hand, it's put me in a much closer and more awkward situation with a couple of people I want nothing to do with.

I can't believe they have such a huge family and both parents squander money on smokes, betel nut and booze, are equally terrible at raising (and taking care of) their children.

I feel very slimy interacting with the boy's father. (I won't elaborate) He's pretty good at sneaking into situations that make it difficult for me to say no, as well as at using guilt and sympathy. He makes his son do the respectful handshake with me, which makes me angry. His son should be cursing his father, not thanking me.

I don't want thanks or anything from them at all. I really didn't want to be a part of this whole fiasco in the first place. It crossed my mind to look the other way, but Aldo might have lost his foot.

As much as I want to be far far away from them, I worry about the kids.

Solvatten scramble

2010-12-05T20:00:00.000-05:00

Something I forgot to link in the previous post. I constantly forget attachments to emails and sometimes when I write sentences I accidentally the operative verb too.

I imported some things into Timor. It was a wild ride. I'm going back this weekend to do it again, but I'm older and wiser this time.

General dispatch

2010-12-03T18:20:00.000-05:00

my favourite picture so far this trip: a mason / carpenter in Oecusse town

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Solvatten scramble

I imported some things into Timor. It was a wild ride. I'm going back this weekend to do it again, but I'm older and wiser this time.

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Indonesian is one of the most fun languages I've ever learned. It's a really cheery language, at least I feel it lends itself easily to pleasant conversation.

It's structured unlike any other language I've learned, with a whole host of pre- and suff- ixes and particles that modify words and expressions that I still don't understand: bits like per-, me-, di-, ken-, -kan, -nya, -an (okay, I know that one), and yang (I know that one too, but not that well) that keep popping up everywhere.

Indonesian is truly a joy to speak. Jokes are funnier, and cuteness is more precious. Different languages lend themselves to different things: Korean is great for complaining, French is great for complaining (and poetry, I hear), and Indonesian is simply a bundle of fun.

I just love the singsong lilt and how sheerly cute its direct translation to English is.

I like imagining that when I say "saya" and "anda" (the formal expressions for "I" and "you") I have a proper Queen's English accent and when I say "aku" and "kamu" (the informal ones) I say "aaah" and "yeww" like a proper southern gentleman.

Swahili is likely as fun (usi vute mto wangu*) but I didn't have the time to learn and enjoy it like I have with Indonesian. I also think that speaking Indonesian helps me with my chronic mumbling because of how sharp and defined the syllables are.

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Atauro adventure

I'm really not the kind of person to make the effort to run away to an island to snorkel and relax and for a change of scenery, but when the opportunity presented itself to tag along with a group of fifteen that I hardly knew to Atauro island last weekend, I decided I would do it.

all the cool kids in the back of a truck. At 4am. Honestly, you didn't expect pictures of happy snorkeling land did you? That would be so typical

It was a great time-- I'm very glad I went and was sad when it was over. We swam in the sea (the water was unbelievably hot), climbed coconut trees and played beach soccer and lots of Loaded Questions-and-Taboo-like games. We got to know and like each other and had a bunch of fun.

another favourite picture: napping next to some Timorese women on the upper "locals only" deck (sneaked up before the captain got there and before I knew it was locals only) of a fishing boat going back to Dili

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One of the families on the street I live on was building a new fishing boat the other day. It takes about three days to make one. First, they cut down a whole tree, and pare the trunk down to the longest and widest straight single piece they can.

After this, they carve out the inside by wetting it and attacking it with machetes and thick straight iron pry-bars. They also cut and shape the outside to make it more streamlined. Eventually, they will put outriggers on it to make it stable in the water. Here are some similar boats.

picture is actually from Atauro. The bags sitting in the water are net-bags filled with seaweed

To cut down a big tree, you need a big chainsaw.

True life

2010-11-30T21:57:00.000-05:00

As if to confirm everything I'd learned and wrote about in this previous post, I got to take photos of a bunch of awesome stuff the just the very next day.

I left the house late and the sun was already blazing down. Walking past the nearby swamp, I noticed a few men casting nets. Despite the heat, I decided to turn around and get my camera.

The men were really nice, and were totally okay with me taking photos of them (I asked). After chatting with them about how their day was going and what they'd caught, they carried on fishing and pretty much forgot about me, allowing me to take a whole bunch of photos before I thanked them and left them later.

They're so incredibly skilful at throwing the net. It flares out perfectly with the flick of the...wrist? the arm? I can't even tell how they do it.

The sun was really intense. I was burning up just sitting there taking photos. It must have been tough working under the sun.

untangling a net in deep water

The water looks terribly dirty, but I ate fish caught in that "lake" at a friend's house and they tasted fine (actually great: they were boiled with chiles and Thai basil), I wasn't sick the next day either.

Pretty soon, my four favourite troublemakers showed up.

The little boy has taken to hugging and hanging on to my leg, and the rest of them are in stitches when I peel him off and hold him upside down. He's always super happy to see me around these days and constantly asks me to take photos of him.

Closer to town, I investigated some music I heard, and found a whole gaggle of kids in a tree, banging on cans and singing. They were shy at first, but after I showed them the first photo I took, they were excited for me to take more. They even let me shoot a video of them.

unfortunately, I'm having a lot of trouble uploading this video. Perhaps I will do it properly at a later date with a back-link to this post.

The fun continued until a grumpy old man showed up and took the lead singer and his sisters home.

lagi bibi

2010-11-30T21:52:00.000-05:00

little baby goats

wake me up at five am

with wild jungle cries

Have courage

2010-11-26T21:31:00.000-05:00

I've always liked a good photograph --I've even been awed and moved by them-- but I've never really understood the photography that goes into shooting a good photo. Everything that I snap that's remotely good is pure luck.

Just the other day, I was talking to Pyl, a French graphic designer who's recently got into shooting pictures and video, who's doing a movie here in Oecusse for EDC, an American NGO.

He's a good teacher and speaks about the subject very well for someone who's only been at it for a year or so.

I learned a lot of things about photography that I had never understood before and with it I found an appreciation for photography as a craft in and of itself.

Pyl showed me some awesome examples of what you can do with very simple cameras. To make short of it, photography is about balancing just three things: shutter speed, aperature, and sensitivity (also known as ISO. you can buy film in different sensitivity, but with a digital camera you can set it with the touch of a button).

All there is to photography is being able to use these three things to create the effects and lighting you desire.

The real lesson I learnt from him is how to be a good photographer. This, he in turn learned from a friend who used to do shoot photos for the UN. The whole trick is courage.

Counter to all intuition, you'll get better photos in most situations by being open and forward with the camera than trying to conceal it. A fair number of people don't mind being in photos, and others often forget that you have a camera with you if you sit with them for long enough. This allows you to get really natural shots of families working in the fields or sitting at home.

Also, your body language is much more natural and unsuspicious when you're not trying to conceal a camera. You might also be more likely to annoy people if they figure out you're trying to take photos without them finding out.

It's also possible to tell from peoples' body language whether they will be alright if you walked up to them and BOF! (French for "pow!") took a picture inches from their face.

Chances are, if they aren't comfortable, they won't even let you get close. Chances are, if you smile, you can get away with it (almost anything, really).

Also, a really good bet to fall back on is to ask: "bele sai foto?" Sometimes, it pays to be more aggressive: "sai foto, ya? okay obrigado!" The important part is being clear about what you want.

I spent last saturday morning on the road with Camilo, who works at FEEO. I took some photos from the back of his motorbike as we rolled on bumpy Oecusse roads.

We visited the welding shop to hurry them on the jobs we're having them do, and we drove around a bit, and bought some corn from the nicest old lady I've ever met (to use when we learned how to make corn shellers).

Alas! I was too shy and mentally tied up in the things that we had to do that I forgot to get good pictures of the two most important things: the nicest old lady ever, and Camilo. I didn't really get any good photos that day.

I promise I won't disappoint next time. I wrote you a haiku to make up for it. (scroll down)

bibi bebee

2010-11-26T21:30:00.000-05:00

little baby goats

jumping around Oecusse

pooping everywhere

Double feature

2010-11-24T00:07:00.000-05:00

I'm not on my computer for the first time in a long time, so I can't include some recent pictures, but rest assured I'll put them up the second I'm able. I'm in Dili right now trying to import some stuff. It's complicated and slow.

To make things worse, some kids stole all my bananas this morning. They were really agressive, and pretty much accosted me and robbed me in broad daylight: I couldn't say no to them. Keep your bananas close in Dili, friends.

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Since I don't have any pictures this time, you can enjoy a picture heavy blog I wrote for Kopernik, and another one I forgot to link to.

(I particularly like the title "post in translation")

still kicking

2010-11-19T19:18:00.000-05:00

Been drinking (solar-irradiated) tap water for two days now, with no problems or discomfort.

Sun sun sun, here it comes!

2010-11-17T05:39:00.000-05:00

This is really turning out to be a week of innovation.

Despite the fact that I can proudly shower with the same amount of water as some American toilets flush with (1.5gal / 6l), I (still) wallow in misery and self-hatred at my use of plastic bottles.

Then, in what can only be described as epiphany, I realised that I can stop buying plastic bottles completely. I don't even need to buy water at all. I can solar disinfect all the water I need! After all, if there's one thing this place has, it's sun. I'm never going to buy any more drinking water, ever!

I can't believe I've known about this for so long but have never applied it. I'm starting today.

(In case any of you are worried about the whole plastic bottle business, turns out that PET bottles are safe for SODIS)

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Here is the article text (from SODIS website)

Indian study confirms that PET bottles for SODIS use are safe

29th of June 2010 - Samuel Luzi

In India, already more than one quarter million people use the SODIS method to treat their drinking water. However, especially in India, reports on hazardous substances in PET bottles have caused uncertainty among users and prevent a rapid dissemination of the method. In particular the family of plasticisers has recently given rise to discussion. While no plasticisers are used in the manufacture of PET, traces of these substances have already been detected in mineral water from glass and PET bottles. In 2008, Empa, the Swiss Federal Laboratories for Materials Testing and Research examined the risks involved in the application of the SODIS method (Schmid et al 2008). A recent study by the Indian Institute of Technology in Chennai with PET bottles from India now confirms the results of the Empa study: during the SODIS process, only very small plasticiser quantities are released in the water, and the WHO limiting values for drinking water are never exceeded. Therefore, the SODIS method does not constitute a health risk if applied correctly – the people in India can safely continue to drink their SODIS water.

Certificate from the Department of Civil Engineering, India [pdf]
Project Report, Department of Civil Engineering, India [pdf]

Best idea comes second this week

2010-11-16T04:39:00.000-05:00

You might be familiar with the bucket shower: a very low-tech way of washing. In a place like Timor, barely anyone has a shower that sprays water-- only bucket showers. How it works is that you use a little plastic hand-bucket to lift water out of a large sink or barrel, and pour that water over your (soapy) self.

It's fun, and I like it a lot.

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I know of a couple of other "bucket" showers... I used one kind at an army camp in Australia where water was scarce, and the shower was designed for great water efficiency: you would fill a two gallon canvas "bucket" from taps, and then hoist it overhead with a rope. A tap in the bottom of the bucket allowed you to release a shower of water to clean yourself with.

With this method, the cleanliness as a regular shower is possible while using very little water. You can get surprisingly fresh and clean by vigorously scrubbing under a small stream. Another advantage is that you can determine the exact temperature of your shower, which you cannot with the old school bucket method.

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What I have invented today is a hybrid method: the bottle shower. I feel terrible about the number of plastic bottles I use here. Despite concerted attempts to drink as much (boiled) water as possible from the pitchers at restaurants and only to buy water in the most efficient size (can't drink from the tap here), I've still got a few big plastic bottles on my hands.

If you're thinking that what I do is to fill them up with water and than shower with them, you're absolutely right. It affords me not only better aim and flow rate control (it's easy while taking a bucket shower to dump out all the water from the hand-bucket and completely miss yourself, or to simply pour more than you intended) but also helps me keep track of how much water I use, by counting the number of bottles.

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This is my contribution to the world today. You're welcome.

Tumble jumble

2010-11-14T23:50:00.000-05:00

I'm learning Indonesian and Tetun so fast it's crazy! Well, so fast my brain hurts anyway. I recently talked to a family and arranged to live in a room in their house (and expressed my profound gratitude) speaking only Indonesian (look, ma, no English!).

It's really curious how I'm learning Indonesian with a vengeance after not even trying in Bali. It really wasn't the language, I think Indonesian is great. It's probably because of how much less useful English is in Timor, as well as how much less people insist (like they do in a tourist town) on communicating with me in the language I feel most comfortable.

Usually, I like to try to pick up the local language if I'm in a place for awhile...

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I've recognised a few distinct stages of this learning (at least for this non-classroom kind).

1. You start out writing every new word you know, and even sentences
2. Your learning accelerates and you find yourself unable to write down each new word because there are so many. Not to worry, so many of them are common-use words that you have no trouble remembering
3. You start to learn grammar instead of following patterns, and you start writing things down again.

There are stages after this one but I don't think I've ever got past number three yet.

Come to think of it, this is pretty close to the phases of learning how to dance as well...

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I was thinking about all this language learning and devised a new system for proficiency, where your ability in a language is measured in years.

No more joking around that you "have the vocabulary of an eight year old". It's an accurate and useful statement to make!

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For example, with English, I'm pretty seasoned, perhaps even an old man, although when I'm tired I'm about six years old.

-in Chinese, I'm maybe ten or so. Probably more like eight.
-in Spanish, fourteen or thereabouts

-in Indonesian, I'm about three years old (got all the food words, as well as yes, no, want, more, less, again and a few other auxiliary words). I'm getting older, I can make small talk with the landlady now, as well as with the folks at my favourite restaurant (out of all five of them) in town. I really like the main guy there, I can only describe him as a huge teddy bear -- he's big, gentle and really really nice, always smiling and singing or humming to himself, and constantly making jokes and laughing with people.

where was I?

-in Tetun, about one and a half...
-I plan to speak Portuguese one day but can't yet, so I'm a foetus. Ha ha! Due in a couple of years when I move to Brazil.

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The best part about this system is that it doesn't involve keeping track of how many words you know and which grammatical hoops you can jump through, and it gives an accurate picture of your ability to use the language in practical settings.

It's easy to find out your proficiency, simply compare yourself to native speakers of various ages.

Some kind of mixture

2010-11-12T05:47:00.000-05:00

If you're wondering what I do besides walking around Oecusse saying "wow...Wow... ...WOW!...WOWW!!" (..."double rainbow!!"). This country is intensely beautiful, really amazing people, living in green green rugged mountains and fields...

Here's a taste.

Here, and here are a couple of blog posts from Kopernik that give some insight into my daily activities and future plans.

too cute

2010-11-11T03:59:00.000-05:00

I just found out today the name in Indonesian for a corn cob that has no more corn on it.

It's "tulang jagung": bone of corn.

tale from the hood

2010-11-09T23:41:00.000-05:00

last sunday morning
played with some kids by the beach
we were shy at first

after skipping stones
we ran around for a bit
laughing and smiling

we sat in the shade
they played with my camera
i think we had fun

Aren't they the most beautiful children you've ever seen? They had just come walking down the beach with their dog...

I found recently that they live really near to where I stay. I walked by them on my way to work and gave them some bananas...

Some kind of nature

2010-11-03T20:33:00.000-04:00

It's been awhile, and the last week was busy. This post will be a little long.

I managed to get my visa paperwork figured out, and after a slow weekend in Dili, I now find myself in Oecusse (here's a page that talks about Oecusse, it's linked to an article about Timor too).

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The main way to get between Dili and Oecusse is an overnight ferry, which is like taking a train in India, except more expensive, slightly more spacious, and with less variation between the most comfortable and least comfortable situations.

I was not surprised to find the ferry packed way over capacity, and ended up sleeping on the deck surrounded by Timorese who were also sleeping on the deck.

It didn't help my peace of mind that there were two lifeboats and a bunch of inflatable rafts whose cases were unsealed and weren't marked with previous or next maintenance dates, on a boat that had perhaps twice as many people as it should have on it. But I made it!

loading up the ferry at the dock

the lower deck, crammed full of stuff. the price of the ticket includes anything you can fit on the ferry along with yourself.

Not long after setting out, a man started talking to me, giving me my first chance to practice the local Tetun language I've been trying to learn. My pitiful vocabulary limited our conversation, but my faint understanding of Indonesian helped a little (people here mix Tetun, Indonesian and portuguese like red, green and white bowtie pasta). Maun --the word for referring to and addressing a man, lit. "brother"-- was very friendly, and offered to share his dinner with me.

upper deck scenes. besides sitting all over the place, you'll notice people sitting on top of the life raft cases and outside the safety railings.

It rained on the high seas, and I was fortunate that both my bags were waterproof. These later became pillows as I lay down on the deck after it had dried. After watching a cockroach crawl over a wall with nervousness and trepidation (there is nothing that more fills me with fear), tiredness took me and I fell asleep. It was just like sleeping on the floor of the Bangkok train station two years ago!

boa noite!

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The sun is strong here in Oecusse, and the heat and humidity can get oppressive by the early afternoon, but the weather can be surprisingly comfortable with the cool sea breeze blowing. It's also been raining, which is uncharacteristic of this time of year.

welcome to the lost world. this is the view literally fifty yards from the building I stay in.

Oecusse is quite an undiscovered treasure. It has a stunning natural beauty (clear, unpolluted water and dark sand beaches), friendly residents, and fast internet. I don't think I've ever been able to amuse people so easily. All I have to say is "Bondia mana/maun" (good morning, miss/mister) and people burst into wide smiles and rapid speech I don't understand. They probably think I look funny.

This weekend I'm thinking of tagging along on a trip with some new friends who work with a local organisation, to go beyond the lush, steep hills that rise suddenly from flat ground a little way inland, and see the districts and villages further inside the enclave.

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Last night, I followed Merita and FEEO staff to another NGO's office where they were celebrating loron feto: women's day. FEEO is the NGO that Kopernik is working with locally here: more on that real soon.

It was a little awkward at the "party", not being able to understand anything people were talking about or really talk to anyone. There were a few things that were neat to see:

-women and men talking loudly, laughing and interrupting each other
-women and men eating with hands from the same plate
-women and men drinking the same booze!

I realised that there was a pretty good representation of NGO's headed by women there: FEEO by our very own Merita, Centro Feto (the women's center), and the host organisation, FFSO, and that may have something to do with it.

A last, interesting observation, as the night grew darker, and the men put on some tunes crowded round to finish the booze:

-music from Timor sounds the same as music from Ghana sounds the same as music from Tanzania and so on...
-men from Timor dance like men from Ghana dance like men from Tanzania and so on...

Which is to say they dance well! Cute little gestures with their hands and heads, and very nimble dancing with their hips.

Apa kabar, ikan bakar?

2010-10-27T04:27:00.000-04:00

I just made up this phrase, it's a tongue-twister /slash/ street talk, it means "what's up (what news), grilled fish?"

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One of my last fond memories of Bali was a brief conversation with an old man, the owner of a masakan padang joint in Kuta. Kuta ain't my favourite place, too loud, noisy, crowded, full of tourists and shops that cater to them. I was really lucky to find this hole in the wall padang.

I told him that his sayur (veg), sambal (chile) and curry were all really good (very bagus) to which he coolly replied, "oh ya, you know, the whole bali [he gestures with his hands], this place is the number one"

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Here's another Indo bite: I was chatting with a taxi driver on the way to Ubud from Denpasar, where the airport is, and he told me he had two boys. "I'm very lucky," he remarked. Although I'm no stranger to the fact that boys are preferred to girls in most societies, I asked him why he said so.

"Mister, if I had money, it would be okay. If I had two girls instead of two boys, I will lose everything," he replied.

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Just got to Dili. I'm nervous, I can already tell that Timor is going to be the most difficult place I've worked in and also the assignment where I have the most responsibility thus far.

Trouble over bridgewater

2010-10-22T21:35:00.001-04:00

Slightly crusty news here

That island in the sun

2010-10-21T23:48:00.000-04:00

Singapore used to style itself as the "garden city", but these days everyone is trying to be just that. Last I heard, Singapore wants to turn that all around, and be a city in a garden. Now that's pretty neat.

My sister's been working for gardens by the bay, a new "concept park" in Singapore, and she's told me a bunch of neat stuff lately. Now, I ain't the biggest fan of this country, but they have actually done quite a few neat things.

They built a very under-publicised water solution which won a big international award, and from what people tell me (the descriptions online aren't great), is indeed a very well designed and effective project. From what I hear, returns water to the ocean cleaner than the water that flows from the ocean in. The green roof on their main building emulates the other high profile green roof in Singapore.

Gardens by the bay looks like a really neat project too: whilst they are building gardens with climates very different from Singapore's tropical weather (mediterranean woodland and cloud forest), the developers are carefully keeping track of every input and output to make sure they make the best use of resources, and carefully designing buildings to carry out functions passively and use minimum external energy.

While the pictured green roof is not as effective as one could be (roofs can grow food and sprout trees and bushes that are much more effective at soaking up carbon than grass. this roof looks like it's pretty high maintenance too), you must admit, it's kind of a sexy building.

High end developments are really not my style, but it's nice to see the whole "green" movement being invested in and held up as something to aspire to, especially in a country I strongly associate with materialism and luxury. And while we might not want a green roof like the one pictured on every building, the first step to getting awesome green roofs on every building is getting people to want them.

Some things are meant to be

2010-10-20T08:56:00.000-04:00

This is how health care should work: I feel bad, I see a(ny) doctor, doctor fixes me, I pay doctor.

This is how health care works in America: I feel bad, I see my "primary care provider" or something like that, p.c.p. fixes me, I pay some pre-determined fraction of the price of the drugs I get, and maybe consultation, the rest is paid by my health care plan that's run by a corporation that handles insurance and pre-paid schemes, which either I or my employer pays a monthly premium to. There's lots of fine print in the middle of all of that. The thisamericanlife episode is highly recommended.

In the light of this whole health care debacle/debate going down in the US right about now, I'd like to mention that I don't think I have any health insurance, not the same kind of insurance as in the American context anyway. I think I might have one for accident or serious illness, but none for medical expenses.

Yesterday, I woke up with a little irritating feeling in my ear, and by the time I went to bed it was so uncomfortable I couldn't sleep. Today, I went to see a doctor, just a regular ol' general practitioner, one I had never seen before.

She was really sharp, well spoken and helpful. She answered all my questions and discussed all the different possibilities for what I could do. It turns out I have an outer ear infection and a fluid buildup in my middle ear.

I paid out of pocket: s$70, about 50 US dollars, for the consultation, a decongestant and an antibiotic. Sure, it would be more amazing if health care in Singapore was free, but I like how in this situation, I have the reassuring feedback where I feel like I am paying reasonably near-cost for the goods and services. Also, nobody can call this (excellent) system socialist either. Not that I'm against socialism, anyway.

Such a low fee! The clinic didn't feel cheap either, it had carpeted floors, glass doors, a leather bench, flowers. This was also the first time I've seen a doctor in a long time, and it was surprisingly pleasant.

I think this is simply a situation where there is efficient health care system which is efficient and competitive (as opposed to bureaucratic and monopolistic), and people face realistic costs and have systems that work.

Footnote: the USA has the highest health care cost in the world, and ranks 43/190 for infant mortality (behind Cuba and Slovenia), 47/190 for life expectancy, and is generally recognised as the lowest quality care among similar countries. In 2005, about half of bankruptcy filings were due to medical expenses.

Information was got from here and here.

Them there lies

2010-10-18T03:07:00.000-04:00

Have you ever heard a politician say something like ”It is not a matter of politics, it is a matter of doing what is right.” ?

Chances are, you have. And the overwhelmingly high chance is that they are lying. I'm picking on one Republican Senator with this quotation, but promises and assertions like these are part of every politician's rhetoric.

Corresponding with a friend of mine about a recent blog post, I was reminded of a concept I learned in an economics class about state and local government and financing.

It's called the "short time horizon". What it meant in the context that I learnt it was that politicians are motivated by many things "within their time" (funding, publicity, base of support, re-election) when the things we want them to care about are often "outside their time" (legislation, project completion, long term city/state wellbeing, and often, good policy*).

The lesson there was that politicians cannot be trusted to make decisions that are in the absolute best interest of the communities and counties they serve, and that legislation must provide ways for them to be accountable for their actions, and overridden if necessary.

*(let's take an undisputably good policy, like ending tax cuts for the richest 2% of Americans)

What I realised after some pondering is that all people have short time horizons.

What the afore-linked oktrends article points to, I believe, is simply how we focus on personal gains that are close to us in time and space (because of our mortal limitations) and so make decisions that benefit us now, that are not optimal for the long run (or for society at large). It's pretty elementary psychology and economics.

Indeed, we likely "have less choice than we think we do, about our principles, beliefs and ideologies" -- the things we believe in most strongly. Certainly when it comes to politics anyway.

Perhaps I finally realised that "politicians are people too" or perhaps more cynically that "we are just like them".

blog party!

2010-10-15T11:13:00.000-04:00

ha ha? get it?

I've learned so much lately. Back in the day, I spent an hour trying to figure out a way to take my google reader shared page and display it in my blog's sidebar, learning about inline frames and other html trickery, and trying to separate content from everthing else. Finally, I found that little link in the google reader that puts a clip straight into blogger with the click of a button.

I've recently also set up a mirror of my blog on Wordpress, which is, to my current knowledge, far more powerful and flexible than Blogger (this one here!). I'll update both and keep them linked to each other for now, til I decide what to do, but if you follow this blog, consider switching over to Wordpress, I would choose it over Blogger if I had to decide.

My blog on Wordpress and Blogger
Also check out my fancy new "About" page.

Life is different these days. In some ways, I do much more-- in the sense that I do more significant things. In other news, I've found myself with (varying periods of) extra time to think, write, and blog --I've been uncharacteristically prolific these past few weeks. After being introduced to google reader in August, I've filled it up with subscriptions, skimming dozens of articles, posts and blogs for read-and-share-worthiness each day. I feel like it's selling another bit of my soul to google, but it's such a useful tool.

So, with all this extra flux of information and free time (assuming it lasts, as work gets busier), I now usher in an era of hyper-increased blogging. Now complete with a google reader sidebar.

The last part of this is, as I get more comfortable with writing this and more comfortable with the idea that there's a lot of stuff that I want to tell y'all about, I'm promoting this blog more aggressively now (for example, actually telling my friends I have one). It's a little unnerving, but (I firmly believe that) doing (at least one) things that scare me or make me uncomfortable (every day) is good for me, and keeps me on my toes.

So, if you think this is good stuff, tell your friends to read! and maybe comment! or write back to me! and tell their friends!

Stay tuned gentle reader!

Is you is or is you ain't?

2010-10-12T02:55:00.000-04:00

I had a little blink of insight while thinking about this article:

If a person's socio-economic situation is the biggest determinant of political views, are political outcomes (who gets elected, what laws get passed) due mostly to the social make-up of a country?

rephrased:

If a person's socio-economic considerations dominate their ideals, outlook and perspective with regard to politics, do countries pass laws and elect leaders with people making decisions based more on their situations and less on what actually makes good leaders and good policies?

The answer is likely not "yes" or "no", but it could well be "more than we would like to believe".

Does this also mean that we have less choice than we think we do, about our principles, beliefs and ideologies?

(PS, watch the video, it's good)

A side question: if all this is so, why are Americans not more resistant to irrational rubbish spouted by people like Glenn Beck? Perhaps there needs to be a variable in this equation for gullibility and propaganda.

Being politically conservative is one thing-- the simple opposite of liberalism and no bad thing itself, but conservatives in America (the speakers and their massed followers) are simply ridiculous, and have managed to be offensive, subversive and regressive.

What planet! Is this?

2010-10-07T08:34:00.000-04:00

Last weekend, I went with Dani to padang padang beach on the south tip of Bali to climb on some real rocks. The rocks were great: some kind of sandstone worn down by the tides.

The climbing was tough, my hands were completely sore afterwards, like they had been tenderised like a pork chop and then exfoliated with sandpaper. then again my hands are pretty soft (by my standards anyway). My forearms ached so that it was difficult to eat!

Dani demonstrates his incredible strength and flexibility

Dani's Gibbon climbing club is named (in part because there are very few other Gibbon climbing clubs in the world) for a pet gibbon that Dani had when he was working as a forest ranger (?) in Kalimantan. He rescued it from a trap and nursed it back to health, and they got along very well -- one might say they were friends. They lived together, played and hung out together. They have since parted ways when Dani came to Bali to be a climbing instructor.

Dani climbs with about ten times the endurance that I do, traversing a particular wall and coming back. I fell off the wall after the first handful of moves: I didn't even have the strength to rest on the wall. Another point to note is that I haven't talked to as many girls in Bali as I did on that Sunday climbing with Dani.

Girl magnet Dani hanging on the wall

I ate some amazing gado gado at the beach ($0.50), and watched the woman grind peanuts, lime, raw garlic, a chile, and a bit of sugar on a wide, flat mortar. This sauce went over steamed vegetables and sticky rice cake. So good!

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I went to a late nite mepantigan practice last week, Putu Witsen had invited some friends from Denpasar who turn out to be Aikido masters.

I found myself standing in a muddy mudfield in the rain that night, under floodlights, watching crazy Aikido men singing Balinese drinking songs while they pranced and danced around. There were sudden bursts of movement as they confronted each other, grappled briefly, and then sent one another flying in spectacular Aikido throws. It was surreal!

The Aikido men taught us some throws...the movements are incredibly complex. It's crazy how irresistible the force of Aikido is: it looks deceptively gently but is very physical indeed. One of the teachers demonstrated the steps of a throw on me that I didn't know, and even though he didn't mean to throw me, the strength and sureness of the move resulted in my being instinctively or inescapably throw to the ground exactly as he intended.

The whole time we were in the mudfield practicing throws, the men were drinking glasses of palm wine (and when I say drinking, I mean they were putting them away in a hurry). I had one or two (sipping slowly, to their amusement). After the mud session, we went back to Putu's charming bamboo shack for noodles and rice, and more palm wine.

your mother should know

2010-10-06T06:13:00.000-04:00

Sometimes, making things feels like bringing a baby into the world. It's really laborious and frustrating, you're all sweaty and grumpy, and then suddenly, you've got this little thing on your hands and you ask yourself, "my god, what have I done!"

This week, at Kopernik

I like big bikes, I cannot lie

2010-10-03T12:44:00.000-04:00

Last weekend, Nenga and I found some nice scrap metal, I headed over to CBS to turn it into a briquetter for the charcoal we made last week. I probably should have took some in-the-process pictures, but my hands were dirty and I was trying to do the thing and be social and... Anyway, here it is, in all it's glory.

Isn't it special? More about it here.

We're really getting along, the CBS folks and I. We laugh and joke, alternately working for a bit and then sitting down for a minute of chitchat. They trusted me to know how to use and not to break their tools -which I didn't- whew! They didn't even try to teach me to do anything, they just assumed I knew how to do it. It looks like I still remember all this stuff-- last time I stick welded was a year ago.

Ketot working on a carburator? carbuerator? carburetor. I asked him how long he's worked on bikes for, he said more than ten years. I asked him if he knew everything about bikes. "Everything? Naw," he said modestly, "but engine, yes."

Pande, I learned from Komang, either means blacksmith or is a blacksmith name. And true enough, he showed me a part that he made by melting down an old aluminium thing and pouring it onto a damaged bike part. This formed a new part of the frame, that he could drill out to make something to replace the old damaged part.

Komang is amazing as usual, and I watched her make prayer offerings from coconut and banana leaves, using long splinters of bamboo as fasteners. She works so incredibly quickly and with such agility and precision, making wonderful 3D shapes from these long, thin leaves. No pictures, unfortunately. You'll have to trust me.

Pande also showed me the upstairs room of the shop, where they've got a small lathe, and a drill press they converted into a small mill by using a movable table.

He showed me these crazy hubless wheels: the rim (with the tyre on it) runs on a track formed by these little wheels that are mounted on these metal disc/rings. The disc is then connected to the bike's fork.

He also showed me this super mega chopper tricycle that he and a friend are building. This thing is off the chain! I think they built this thing from the axle up, bending their own tubes for the frame and everything. Pande says the transmission came from a VW bug.

I'm really happy that I get along with these guys so well after hanging out with them just a little bit. I feel like their wide eyed little cousin. They offered me a taste of some balinese palm wine. It tasted interesting, but was not very strong tasting for how milky white it was.

I really want to communicate with them better: their English is so much better than my Indonesian. I need to get my act together!

Summertime

2010-09-30T02:32:00.000-04:00

The latest from Kopernik

gado gado

2010-09-30T00:46:00.000-04:00

This week, with the workload ebbing slightly, I got up to these adventures:

1. climbing
After a terribly difficult time tracking down their contact information (I think I'm spoiled by how easy the internet makes everything), I finally got in touch with the Gibbon climbing club.

I rode my motorbike from Ubud to Kuta to climb on Monday evening. This took an hour, and the traffic was crazy. The roads were swarming with motorbikes weaving all over the place. I eventually figured out a strategy: ride slow, drift to the back of the pack of bikes, where the families with five people on a bike are, and ride just close enough to the person in front that nobody tries to cut in, but far enough away that there's some stopping distance.

I made it to Kuta alright, and met Dani and Ika at a climbing wall in Kuta after only an hour of getting lost in the city. Ika is a tiny woman who is a deceptively good climber. Dani used to be a forest ranger (?) or something like that and now teaches climbing full time. I climbed a bit, and talked to them a lot.

The neatest thing I learnt was that the Indonesian government created a national climbing federation, and sponsors a climbing team from each district in the country. It also built facilities in quite a few of the regions. I met Dani and Ika behind a firehouse, where the government had built a 20 metre (60 foot) wall, a 15 metre wall, and a bunch of smaller boulder-walls. Pretty awesome and pretty out of character that the Indonesian government would do this.

We got along really well, I'm going to try to go climbing on some real rocks with them this weekend.

2. green school
Ewa and I visited green school, an alternative / startup school (grades K-12 (!!)) in Bali, that is built almost entirely from bamboo, and emphasises experiential-over-theoretical learning. They are currently working towards IB accredition. Central to their mission are a set of scholarships: one fifth of their student body is Balinese children on full rides.

The school is also designed to have a low impact and great environmental awareness -- kids learn about cultivation, planting fields of rice and vegetables, and study the ecosystem that is all around them and often walks or flies right into their classroom. The school is also design to be a redistribution system, charging full tuition for most, to subsidise Balinese students and programs for local schools and kids, and raising money for similar ends by selling incredibly beautiful bamboo furniture and bamboo houses, to rich expats, for designer-brand prices. That's fine by me!

John Hardy, founder, says his idea is for these Balinese kids to completely skip out on the traditional streams of education, come out green, go to the best schools for environment and public policy and urban planning, and come back to fix Bali and Indonesia. It's an interesting idea that will be proven with time. The architecture here is just stunning.

The cafe there also bakes the best brownie I have ever tasted. From someone whose sweet tooth fell out early in life, this is very high praise.

3. mepantigan
I've started doing Mepantigan, a very young martial art (7 years) founded by a gentleman named Putu Witsen. He also teaches other martial arts and outdoorsy stuff at green school.

Mepantigan is great. It's got elements of other fighting styles in it, but focuses on throws and prohibits striking. Fighters wrestle in muddy mud pits or rice fields (where landings are soft), and are applauded for aggression, politeness and friendliness (!!). The folks who do it are all swell.

Mepantigan as a dramatic art incorporates painting, music, firebreathing, acrobatics, comedy, you name it. People love this stuff. Someone once sponsored Putu to go to Denmark once to teach and perform.

This is what it looks like. I'm not in that photo nor did I take it, but I'll do my best to do either of those things soon.

So far, it's great. I've done Mepantigan twice and am getting the hang of being safely thrown (quite fun actually), and safely throwing a person to the ground (Putu says I need to be more aggressive. That figures. The other thing I'm really terrible at is making warcries of effort when throwing someone, which is encouraged, which everyone else does really well).

Rolling in mud is the perfect thing to do on a hot day. I feel like a water buffalo: content.

ramah kelinci

2010-09-27T09:05:00.000-04:00

Life trudges on
A shadow following me
It's a cute bunny

These Are The Vistas

2010-09-27T08:44:00.000-04:00

The Balinese countryside is stunning. I spent a fair bit of time on the back of a motorbike this weekend as Nenga and I tried to hunt down some scrap metal to fashion into a briquetter for the charcoal we made.

I was completely shocked by how magnificent Bali is. And so big and spacious. I think my sense of scale and size is completely skewed (for islands anyway) from growing up in Singapore (how do they fit all this stuff...on an island??).

I'm surprised how beautiful rice fields can be. I imagined them as the kind of thing I'd shake my fist at and curse people for ruining the landscape, but they're just so small and well arranged and green. People wade in them and work all day. They have a certain honesty to them, you know?

It made me wonder if farmers wake up to their rice fields, that spread from around their house to the place where they meet groves of trees, and see beauty, or do they wake up to their rice fields and see a day of back breaking work?

I clumsily shot a stack of photos from the back of the motorbike while speeding through the countryside. Some turned out okay.

People here are big into kites. Everywhere I went, I would see a sky full of them. It doesn't look so good in pictures, but it's amazing to see in person.

Ides of things

2010-09-25T05:57:00.000-04:00

What in the blazes am I actually doing here?

This and that...

High on diesel and gasoline

2010-09-25T03:41:00.000-04:00

Talk about pleasant surprises, I was walking down the street the last week, actually looking for a place to buy a SIM card, in a part of town I'm never in, and happened upon a shop called CBS: Cempaka Bali Sakti, translated roughly to Magical (a certain type of) Flower Bali.

<-- that's a cempaka

I like the name, because it's cute, and because it's more than a little misleading. CBS is really what the cool kids say when they mean Ubud Custom Cycles.

check out this bad boy!

Ketot was the first person I talked to there, he's a hefty, mongol looking fellow with a sparse Fu Manchu beard. Pande is a scruffy, scrawny guy with a mini pigtail and faint bleached highlights in his hair, and Komang is a tough (and tiny) woman, the owner's cousin, who Ketot and Pande both introduced to me as their boss (which she denies emphatically).

CBS does a lot of standard repairs, but the staff and clients also have a penchant for custom bikes of all kinds: choppers, street bikes, you name it. CBS is the womb and the nest for the coolest motorcycles in town, and may be the only one of its kind in Bali. I've got a bunch of photos of them but no bandwidth to put them on the internet. I might do a flickr thing when I'm back in Singapore.

The mechanics are always laughing and smiling, and I can feel the sheer enjoyment that they have in working on bikes. They also chain smoke, and have little regard for other shop safety. That said, they are really instinctive and talented hack mechanics and are very skilled and quick with tools and techniques, and with improvising tools and techniques.

Pande cutting a piece of metal with great precision, he's really good with the angle grinder. He's also cutting straight through the metal and into the floor (I guess that's just his style)

I spent a whole afternoon talking to them, taking pictures of them at work, and refusing cigarettes.

Kid riding Pande's crazy wasteland chopper bike. The gearshift lever is between his legs, rather than under his left foot where it is on most bikes. That's Komang in the top left.

Grinding down the ends of spokes so they don't poke the tube and cause flat tyres

After the first guy gets hit in the eye by a fleck of hot metal (don't worry, he's okay), he hands over to Ketot, who wears eye protection and has no problems with shooting sparks across the workshop

Pande welding on the monster bike.

There's never a dull moment here.

This biscuit was an animal swam in a brook

2010-09-23T05:40:00.000-04:00

That's right, the third ingredient on this biscuit is ground catfish. It's an innovation by the institute of agriculture at Bogor (one of the top universities in Indonesia, I hear) to help kids get the nutrition (protein, most prominently) that their diet lacks. Or at least, so I surmise from the biscuit. The smiley face makes it irresistable to would-be eaters.

Ewa offered me a couple and made me guess what was in them, and I couldn't-- the best I could come up with was coconut, which might not even be in it. They were actually really good by any standards, I ate the second even after I found out what was in the first. They really got it right with this biscuit: not too sweet, but not fishy in the slightest.

It turns out catfish are really easy to farm, and when in biscuit form, are part of a complete breakfast: the biscuit are one fifth protein and one fifth fat.

when i saw this.. i f4pp3d*

2010-09-23T03:36:00.000-04:00

*homage to the greatest torrent of econometrics books ever assembled
Trivia point: "econometrics f4pp3d" is a googlewhack

Oh, the things that get me excited these days. I just learned about Village Telco, which is a super neat initiative to develop an extremely flexible and extremely low cost telephone network toolkit, which is both open-software and open-hardware.

To start at the head, we all really take our telecom network for granted. It can be a little painful sometimes, but we afford our x9.99 (sometimes y9.99 with a data plan, where y >> x), and we get to talk to our friends, figure out when to hang out, and also call in emergencies, like a flat tire, or being locked out of the house. Telecommunication is really useful, wherever and whoever you are in the world.

Now, people in developing countries face the same monopolistic telecom markets as in America (what is it, like two companies?). In fact, it's worse: telecom companies in developing countries are even more bent on getting a high rate of return and invest in the most rural areas last, leaving the poorest people with lack of infrastructure and options that are too expensive for them. With their much tighter incomes, the poor spend a much larger portion of their money on communication. They make much harder choices on a much more frequent basis about whether to use telecom services or not.

Now, this is the case for poor people and energy as well, but the situation differs by a few details. The electrical grid is much more expensive and difficult to afford than telecom services, this is true, but it is much harder to get communication without telecom services than light without the grid. This is not to say that the options are good: the most common alternative to the lightbulb is the kerosene lantern (and kerosene is expensive), which is a terrible thing to sit next to -it's like smoking a pack of cigarettes every night- and there are many other important amenities the electrical grid provides, but let's get back to communication.

Here's where we arrive at Village Telco, who have designed a most innovative piece of technology, allowing communities anywhere in the world to implement and operate their own communications networks (you could do it too!).

What they've designed fits in the palm of the hand, runs on just 2.5 watts of power, is resistant to rough handling, the weather, five different natural disasters, and civil war (and is also flexible to a range of power sources). It works out of the box with existing technology, like ordinary landline and WiFi phones (it's a WiFi based system), and automatically connects to multiple other units like itself to form a linked network or relay for communication. It does all of this for just $120. They call this little marvel a "Mesh Potato", and it's cheaper than most cell phones-- it's probably cheaper than some landline phones.

This means that an entrepreneur could set up a local telecom network on a very small budget (the system is designed to break even in 6 months -- where traditional telecom infrastructure can take decades to pay back), without the need for cell antennae or land lines, and can grow the meshed network Potato by Potato as subscription and demand increases.

This is the 2.0 of telecommunications, where users can take control of their own communication infrastructure. Yee haw!

This is easily the coolest piece of technology I've seen all year.

On the topic of communities taking control of their own infrastructure, Husk Power Systems is a homegrown company in the Indian "rice belt" installing powerplants that supply electricity to rural villages that don't get the national grid. These plants are powered by rice husks, an agricultural byproduct. It's beautiful, a perfect re-use of outputs from the food system, that produces an invaluable commodity and creates no food/fuel conflict. If anything, there is a certain peace, and a mutual encouragement on both sides of the equation.

mari kita makan

2010-09-21T23:54:00.000-04:00

I could go on forever about how awesome masakan padang is. Although google translates it to "culinary field", the actual meaning is closer to "farmer's food". Masakan padang is rice served with the eater's choices from a spread of vegetables, eggs, soy, fish, meat and other accompanying foods.

One of my favourite things about masakan padang is how all the foods are arranged in plates carefully balanced on an elaborate arrangement of other plates, so that all the food is visible in the front window, even at a distance. It also makes it really easy to serve, by reducing the reaching distance.

Padang is really cheap and also allows vegans and vegetarians (this post is tagged "animals") to eat to their satisfaction and choose from great variety, eliminating the hassle of modifying menus or limiting their choices. In fact, it's got infinite customisability. It's also really tasty, easy and unassuming. A comfort food of sorts. I eat it every day.

Padang of the week:
Price: Rp 10,000 (about $1.12), where I ate it (price can vary slightly)

This one's got rice, vegetables, tempe, a deep fried egg, and chile*. A good place is more than happy to (as pictured) give you extra veg, and drown everything in coconut curry with no extra charge.

The tempe in Bali is consistently amazing. It's firm to the tooth like well done pasta, and yet has a certain creamy texture. It's got that wonderful nutty savouriness to it without the mal-fermented funk that sometimes comes with tempe in the US. And, it's super cheap. The tempe pictured cost about 20 cents. Next time, I'm getting two.

Deep fried egg! is a delicacy all across Southeast Asia. It's got all the nutrition of an egg, with all the delight of a french fry, this one topped with hot chiles and onions.

*There's more! Bali has red and green chile, just like New Mexico does. What a weird coincidence. The recipes are remarkably similar, the green consisting mostly of ripe fresh chiles and the red consisting mostly of ripe dried chiles. They vary in taste from place to place, just like in New Mexico. Some are mild and savoury, others taste like a molotov cocktail.

And whilst die hard New Mexicans like myself swear by green, in Bali, you just have to get both.

Merry christmas!

Real big on quarks

2010-09-19T19:44:00.000-04:00

It's official: century gothic is the "greenest" font, using 30% less ink than Arial, and even more economical than some eco-fonts.

It's so green that the University of Wisconsin - Green Bay changed their default email font to century gothic to save the ink, the environment, and most importantly, money: 30% greater text-for-ink efficiency is a lot, since printer ink costs about $10000 a gallon.

---

I've also heard, but found conflicting arguments, that dark coloured webpages save energy. Whether they do or not, mine's dark because I find gentle lights and dark backgrounds easier on the eyes.

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Finally,

This is super awesome: Loband is something like a browser-in-a-browser (perhaps not an accurate description) written by a bunch of really smart guys one of whom I saw speak at this class (which is really awesome and welcoming to audit-ers and not-MIT / not-students). It's neat because it allows an internet user to load all of the content of a webpage text-first, and then waits for instructions to load pictures, sounds and flash...

Okay, I figured it out. It's a service that's run on a high-bandwidth server, to be accessed by users in low-bandwidth areas. It filters websites requested through the service down to their core content at the server before sending it to the user, reducing the amount of information that needs to be transmitted. As the name suggests, this allows for efficient and judicious use of bandwidth in situations where connection speeds are low.

The original business idea was for a whole bunch of high speed servers running loband in Europe-near-Africa and Asia-with-internet-near-Asia-without, allowing users in these countries better access to the internet, and easing congestion in those networks. I can't remember who was supposed to pay for it-- perhaps internet providers in those countries, who benefit from less traffic? I don't recall, but I do remember it made a lot of sense when I heard it.

I don't know how that worked out. In any case, Loband is a useful card to have up your sleeve.

Stormy weather

2010-09-17T07:18:00.000-04:00

For the third day today, it's raining ~~men~~ (I wish!) cats and dogs here in Ubud. I put a glass out yesterday to measure the rainfall, and I got a centimetre in about ten minutes(!).

On the way home, I lifted my scooter onto a deserted sidewalk to get around a road that had a foot of water on it. The flooding flushed the gutters out, leaving trash in the street, and making everything smell really terrible. Many roads had an inch deep stream of (brown) water sweeping across them. It had a certain charm to it.

Here are some brave souls fording the river directly.

Best investment I've ever made is a super waterproof messenger backpack, also known to be used by deep sea divers. Fortunately (and unfortunately), it's much more waterproof than my rain jacket and pants.

When I got back to the glass this morning to measure the total yesterday's rainfall, I found it overflowed (over seven centimetres of rain). I didn't get so wet riding home today. Like they say, yesterday was dramatic, today is okay.

Drawn onward to new era

2010-09-16T00:57:00.000-04:00

This is (part of) the view from my office, and it doesn't really do justice to how amazing the view is. It's stunningly green, and the volcanoes are, in reality, huge.

After working for and talking to Ewa and Toshi at Kopernik here in Ubud, I'm getting a clearer picture of what exactly they're trying to do. There isn't really a simple explanation for what it is.

Kopernik works to address a couple of issues. In the first domain that they work in, they connect communities in developing countries in need certain types of technologies with companies or organisations which develop and produce innovative technologies, and finally with corporate donors and crowd-funding opportunities (where many donors each contribute a little to a specific project).

This gives poor people access to progressive, innovative and necessary technologies and products (which are often inaccessible because of cost) such as solar electric systems and water purification devices. Kopernik also provides support and advice to communities implementing projects. This spreads knowledge about technologies through the developing world and also connects companies to potential markets.

A key aspect of this is documenting the projects, and gathering comprehensive information on the outcomes and effects of introducing technology and projects. This allows experience to advise the design of future projects. Comprehensively reporting the impact of the projects that donors and supporters made possible is very important, and it helps to inform and engage people outside the field to support projects and learn about the impact of technology on the lives of the poor.

Kopernik not only connects companies to markets and communities with solutions, but also fosters communication between the organisations, businesses and people working on development challenges in low income countries. A big problem, I hear, is that "development" (a word and name I'm not terribly comfortable with), is a very closed industry, where there is little participation from people or other industries outside it, and where even some organisations within it don't talk to each other.

Kopernik wants to change this by being a marketplace and a hub for technology as well as for people, and by involving and engaging people outside the field to learn about and support initiatives in developing countries. Ewa and Toshi are both veterans of the UN, and another reason they are going this route of connections-en-masse and decentralised operation is because it is much faster and more responsive than the bureaucratic and sluggish UN.

We're making plans now for me to spend a couple of months, maybe? in East Timor, working directly with projects and communities Kopernik already works with, and introducing a whole bunch of new technology and programs. Yikes!

I wake up early everyday and ride a scooter (unfortunately, it's too far and the roads are too dangerous for bicycles) to Ewa and Toshi's house (aka Kopernik head office), where we type furiously at computers, sitting on a deck that hangs off the side of a hill facing a river and a countryside dotted with loads of coconut trees, hills (volcanoes?) in the distance. Simply amazing.

I've never owned or rented any kind of motor vehicle before, so it's here in Ubud that I'm buying gas for the first time in my life, a surreal experience. Gas must be really really well subsidised by the government here or something, it's about half the price of gas in the US. Probably in no small part because my scooter gets something like a hundred miles to the gallon, I pay about a dollar (no joke), a week right now for gas.

Yo soy del barrio

2010-09-14T04:29:00.000-04:00

I often feel at home and confident in places before I'm actually familiar with them.

I have working maps in my head of so many little cities and places around the world...