The Wider World

According to some, the world will cease to exist tomorrow when the Large Hadron Collider does its "first beam" at 9:30 CET (that's 4:30 pm in Tokyo). Others posit that LHC's man made black holes will fling us about in time. The scientists say we're safe, but haven't they said that about other experiments that turned out to be rather dangerous? I guess we will have to wait and see.

I'm planning to hedge my bets and have a pint or three in advance of the first beam ala Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, and I will have my towel in hand. Wonder if I should pack an emergency time travel kit? I can't even imagine what I would I put in it.

The Royal Mint had a contest to redesign the reverse of the UK coins. The winning designs are gobsmackingly clever. They are fresh and energetic, while still being completely connected to tradition. Well done, Matthew Dent. I love how six of the coins puzzle together to form the full image, with the one pound coin being the key. I can hardly wait to get a full set of these in change.

Read all about the coins and the young designer on the Royal Mint's site: http://www.royalmint.com/newdesigns/designsRevealed.aspx

In the past week, three undersea cables carrying Internet data to and from the Middle East have been damaged. It's really messing up data traffic in Egypt, India and throughout the Gulf region. They say two of the breaks were due to ships anchors; the third is undetermined.

Reading about it this morning, I came across a quote by Eric Schoonover, a senior analyst with TeleGeography, who was placating the American Internet users. "We have all the content here," he said. "It's not going to be felt other than we won't get the BBC."

What stunning hubris. Ouch.

Xanga profiles of the teens in question

In rural Pennsylvania this weekend, a young man shot and killed his younger girlfriend's parents after an argument over her curfew, then left with the girl. They've been found in Indiana and police are investigating.

And so are the reporters. The Philadelphia Inquirer has discovered the Xanga weblogs of both the young man and the daughter and extracted from them their interests and grammatical errors. Of course, the paper focused on the things that made him look disreputable and her look sweet.

I looked at their sites. They seem to be typical American teenagers. Entirely human.

They both like candy. He hunts deer with his friends. They both like Christian rock music. She plays soccer. He is precious about his hair. She belongs to her church youth group. She doesn't use capitals. He writes in full sentences. They both invoke God in praise.

There's nothing there to foreshadow what happened this weekend.

If I should ever become a criminal or the vicitim of a crime, what might reporters deduce about me from my weblog? Probably all the wrong things. Bad tendencies and good deed are feely intermingled on mediatinker, as well as terrible typing and an inherited tendency toward too many commas.

Tod left Japan with a cold (which I've caught just in time to go to France) and his sister bought him some of the oddest medicine I've ever encountered.

Sudafed Shower Soothers look and smell like urinal cakes. You put the hard blue disk on the floor of the shower and hop in. The hot water reacts with the chemicals and sends off pungent plumes of camphor and eucalyptus vapor to sting your eyes and nasal passages into feeling better as you exit the shower.

Not so soothing.

Library in the living room

Tod's mom shares a huge old house with two of her friends--they bought the place, moved in together last year and dubbed their new home the Old Biddies' Commune.

The house is wonderful brick building from 1938. There are lots of sunny windows and the stairway curves in a wonderful arc at the landing. Upstairs, everyone has her own suite with a bathroom. The first floor and basement are a large common rooms for dining, entertaining and just lounging around. Outside is a stone patio and a large backyard with a path leading into a quiet grotto.

The shared rooms are decorated with a mix of antiques, art, books and keepsakes from all three women's collections and it's difficult to tell where one's taste lets off and the others' begins. They have distinctive personal styles, but in good harmony.

We're staying here a few days during a family function, then we are off to Paris and Bordeaux to celebrate our 16th wedding anniversary. So if I'm not posting every day, please understand. I'll be back in Tokyo later this month with lots of photos and stories to share.

I'm still going to and fro in the world, but woke up this morning thinking about one of my film projects. It was slightly painful not to be able to get up, trot over to my computer and work out the idea I had. I hope I can keep that thought in mind until I return to my studio in a week's time.

That, combined with the cicadas in Jim's Hanashi Station program, made me almost long for home. I can see that this is a feeling that will come and go throughout my travels and I will need to learn to handle it without falling into homesickness.

Fortunately, there is much to see and do before I return. I've got another week in Chicago before I fly out of here, and I intend to use it for drawing some of the city's architecture and landmarks, as well as recording sounds and taking pictures. (And feasting on pirogies and other ethnic goodies.)

I bought a set of pan watercolors in New York. They are much like the ones I had in grade school and their limited palette of 8 colors forces me to work harder. They are quite a different experience compared to my double handful of watercolor pencils, but I can make many of the same colors with either. I might have to carry both forms of color along with me as I walk up and down in the earth.

This afternoon we're going to Evanston, a college town just north of Chicago. It has a lively downtown of boutiques and bars along with Northwestern University's campus. My grandfather grew up in Evanston and his father modelled for a statue of Peter Pan that was on display in one of the Chicago parks decades ago. I've been looking for evidence of it for years, but have never managed to locate it.

Today I plan to find a shady spot to sketch while Kris is in class and Tod & John run around looking at audio gear and aquariums. I'll post whatever I manage to churn out.

Tian An Men, Beijing (click for larger view)

I spent my last day in Beijing doing what I'd intended to do on the first--draw Tian An Men, the gate that leads into the Forbidden City.

Arriving at 10, I settled into a spot on the ground near a flagpole by the big obelisk in the square. Five hours later, I completed my drawing.

I'm never a speedy artist, but the work was slowed somewhat by numerous interruptions as Chinese tourists noticed me. I am the subject of half a dozen videos and countless photos. I talked to adults and children, putting forward my best "American representative abroad" smile and good cheer, even when I wanted to smack people for standing between me and what I was drawing.

At various points throughout the day, I had crowds of as many as thirty people watching me. Dozens of sweet little girls came and sat next to me, smiling while their parents captured the moment on film (I saw very few digital cameras and only one D70 like ours). Grown men gave me the thumbs-up when we established that I didn't speak Chinese. Many mutterings of "Very Good!", which is exaggerated praise considering what I drew.

My favorite onlookers were a group of bright blue-shirted students of various ages and their teachers. Their tour guide explained that they had come from all over China on a trip to Beijing that was a prize for an essay contest on the benefits of reading. Some of the kids spoke English and I asked them about the books they liked. None of them knew Harry Potter but it seems likely he's named something different in Chinese.

When I finished my drawing I can't say I was thrilled with the result, but I'd experienced a memorable afternoon. That makes up for any lack of skill displayed on the paper.

Turbulence over China

As the plane back to Beijing began to shudder and the Fasten Seat Belts lights came on, Jon told me that the air over central China is always turbulent. So I took that as a starting point and doodled a bit.

Ritan Park, Beijing (Click for larger view)

When we arrived, I dropped my bag at the Guardian office, left Zoupi to help Jon write up the Nushu article, and went into town. With a jillion choices of destination, I ended up at Ritan Park, near the embassy area. The park was used for sacrifices to the Sun, and there's a large circular altar space in the center. I thought of drawing the Divine Kitchen, but the name was its best feature, so I settled myself on a bench and drew a willow and pagoda near a pond where people angle for ornamental goldfish.

Queen of the River in a crown of flowers rescued from the Yu Long He. Lisa had her turn, too. Photo by Jon.

This was a day to play as we made our way back to Guilin. After breakfast and some shopping in the market (Lisa put her bargaining skills to good use for me!), we hired bamboo rafts and had a two hour trip down the Yu Long He. Jon & I swam alongside the boats for maybe a kilometer, but while I climbed back aboard and stayed put, he jumped back in at least a dozen times. I don't know too many people who like the water as much as Jon.

Me, Zoupi and Lisa in front of Moon Hill. Photo by Jon.

We stopped for lunch at an open air restaurant near the raft terminal and had a look at Moon Hill. This was another instance of Mr. Fong knowing just the right thing. As we drove along the village street near the restaurants, he told us to look out the window at the hill with the stone arch in it. He speeded up the car, and we watched the moon change phase as the hill behind the gap shifted relative position.

My sunburn islands

Maybe I should have swum with Jon some more because I ended up with a rotten sunburn from sitting undressed on the raft. When we reached town in the evening, we sought out some after-sun cream at one of the Guilin department stores and had a bowl of Guilin's specialty--rice noodles in spicy broth with bits of duck.

Our hotel, the four star Lijiang Waterfall Hotel, had broadband access, so Jon and Lisa holed themselves up in their rooms and worked for part of the night, then we all went out for a late walk along the shopping street before heading to bed.

Today we learned all about Nushu from various sources. I've updated Wikipedia's Nushu article with some of the information we learned on our journey, but the impressions of the old women telling us about their lives just doesn't fit into the encyclopedic format.

Weaving the traditional way. Photo by Jon.

These were remarkable women gathered at Nushu Garden, a local center for preserving the writing. A nearly toothless 80 year old, Ni Youju, told us that she had been engaged at age one, and married at 16. Her husband was still alive and she described him as a good man who didn't drink, smoke or gamble. (Jon blanched...) She learned Nushu by listening to the privileged women singing the songs, and figured out how to weave the patterns they used, but never learned to write or read it. She sang local songs in a strong voice as she worked on a belt weaving that incorporated some Nushu characters in the design.

Before we left Nushu Garden, Miss Zhou presented each of us with a scroll she had written in Nushu. Jon's was a Li Bai poem about a waterfall; Lisa's was a wish for a happy future. Mine was supposed to say "A beautiful woman will always be appreciated by men" but Miss Zhou made a mistake as she worked with the brush and started over with a new scroll and a new saying. So mine is a hope that by sharing Nushu, all women of the world will become sisters.

We headed down a very rutted road to a densely packed village called Xiawan. The world's most accomplished Nushu teacher, Hu Meiyue, lives here. It is the most beautiful town in the world.

It is a maze of narrow cobbled alleyways between two story red brick buildings that have stood for nearly three centuries. The houses are solidly built and most have ornately carved wooden windows and doors, but the town has fallen on hard times and everything is a bit derelict. The old temple is littered with manure; the Cultural Revolution-era hall is a garage for farm equipment.

The center of the town is a big, green pond. It's the only place where you can see the unobstructed sky. Gates on two sides of the pond lead off to the temple and houses. One thing the village lacks entirely is commerce; there are no shops or stores in evidence. People in the village walk or bike to the nearest town.

Jon interviewed Mrs. Hu, who read from her great-grandmother's Nushu book, and after a quick stop back in Jiang Yong to see Zhou Shuoyi, who compiled the first Nushu dictionary, we were on our way to Yang Shuo.

On the way we stopped for a swim in a river. Yeah! Some water buffaloes were curious about our pile of discarded clothing, but I rescued our stuff before mama-buffalo could eat my skirt.

Another family of buffaloes swam across the river as Jon & I played race games with an unripe quince. He later chucked it at Lisa, sitting on the bank, and caused her to fall in. We were back in the car shortly after that.

Across the river at Yang Shuo (cilck for larger view)

Yang Shuo is a tourist town popular with Western travellers. It has a nightlife/market/cheap hotel district just like Khao San Road in Bangkok. If the scenery in the area were not so terribly beautiful, I'd vow to never go again.

After arriving in Beijing on Friday night and staying up til nearly 3 am catching up with my friend Jon, the China correspondent for the Guardian, we made our way from his house at 6:20 to catch a flight to Guilin in Guangxi province. Huang Lisha (Lisa), Jon's able assistant, expert interpreter and government spy, was waiting for us with the tickets.

Stepping off the plane, we still had a 180 km trek to Jiang Yong, the Yao county village over the border in Hunan province, where Jon was doing interviews on the Nushu story, so Lisa hired a taxi and driver at the airport. We were blessed to get Mr Fong, who just happened to be at the head of the queue. He turned out to be the most useful resource and a kind man with a sense of fun. Not only did Mr Fong know the way, he knew all the sights and points of interest along the way. He was with us for the whole time we were in the area, always at the ready with the car when we needed him as if reading our minds. He bought us bananas, shared his mosquito spray, joined in our activites and meals. If you ever need a driver in Guilin, he's the man to call.

The day was a full one, meeting our guide, Huang Yuan, and having a feast of a Hunan lunch before making with visits to some of the important Yao cultural sites. We met the local Yao king, Zheng Shiqiu, elected ten years ago, who accompanied us and explained some of the local history and how the village is hoping to promote tourism with Nushu as a key aspect of the plan.

Jon & I after our swim. Photo by Lisa.

The highlight of my day was climbing a mountain to the base of a 110 meter waterfall. It was getting near dusk and the light was fading quickly when we reached our destination. Against the advice of our guide, Jon and I ducked under the barrier and ran towards the pool at the base of the waterfall. We shucked off our outer layers and went for a paddle.

I think it was the best swim of my life. The scenery was unbeatable, the water clear and cold. I glowed and bubbled with overflowing joy for the rest of the day. Even now, I smile broadly when I think of how the spray felt on my face as I stroked across the pool.

Cook prepares local fare in the glare of a bare bulb. Photo by Jon.

Dinner was at a family-run Yao inn. The kitchen was dark and above the smoky wok hung the carcasses of rats, chickens, ducks, and unidentifiable creatures. I don't think the smoky meat in our dinner was rat, but I couldn't tell what it was.

Jon watched the kitchen girl kill our chicken by slitting its throat, draining the blood for a minute, then whacking it against the side of the building until it stopped moving. The chicken soup was delicious, but I'm glad I stayed in the courtyard having a beer with Zoupi.

During the 15th century, rural women in China's southern Hunan province developed a secret written language. In a few days, I'm going to get to find out more about Nushu in person. A friend is doing a story on the efforts to preserve this language and I'm tagging along.

The last "sworn sister" of Nushu died in September last year at age 98, but there are others who still can read and write the language. It is a mix of Chinese characters and embroidery patterns, each symbol expressing a sound rather than an idea like normal written Chinese.

Women used the script to write letters to one another and when a daughter was married, her mother would give her a handbound book with the first three pages filled with songs from her hometown. The new bride would fill the blank pages herself.

I can hardly wait to learn more.

Forget moderation. Portion control? Out the window. And now that 107 million American adults are overwieght or obese, furniture manuafacturers are touting new, wider seats for restaurants.

UPI published an article on May 23rd: Eatery furniture confirms obesity trend

Furniture makers are selling bigger chairs and tables to U.S. restaurants, an apparent accommodation to growing customers.

The National Restaurant Association's four-day conference in Chicago featured numerous displays of supersized furniture for supersized diners, the Dallas Morning News reported Monday.

Chili's has begun testing more spacious eating spaces and was looking at installing tables up to 12 inches larger at future Chili's outlets.

And at the other end of the process, there are also extra large toilet seats, Great John, winner of the Best New Bath Product 2004 at the Chicago Bath Show

The size of the average person has increased dramatically over the last century. Most toilets made today are manufactured from designs dating back to the early 1900´s. In the past, the pleadings of big and tall people went unanswered. For this reason GJTC engineers, medical doctors and artists took to the task of creating a NEW GENERATION of products satisfying the needs of today’s customers. Our goal was to create the most comfortable and safe toilet for Large-Size people in the market. The other challenge was to make a toilet that could also be used by any size person. The final result was the creation of a "SIZE FRIENDLY TOILET"

Hedwig & I trade hairstyling tips.

While in the States, we visited Mom's friends, Bob & Howard, and played with the chickens they keep in their large rural backyard. They have a huge variety of chooks and they husband guinea pigs, too. We have a gallery of chicken and pig pictures taken that afternoon.

Arriving in Chicago from Pittsburgh, the cabin attendant made her prepare-to-deplane spiel, but she ended not with the usual "Thank you for flying United" but:

"May the doors of Heaven open and abundant blessings rain upon you."

I was taken aback. Is that in the airline script? How did she sneak it in? Where did the phrasing come from; it sounds like it could be almost any religion.

Having plonked myself in front of the TV for too many hours over the last few days (to research modern American video editing techniques), I found myself laughing along with some of the advertising. Here are three that stood out; sorry I haven't been able to find video links of these. I'll keep looking.

McDonalds. A man leans back in his office chair, asleep. A woman comes in, and explains that he's fallen into a food coma after a heavy lunch. She sets down her bag, says that she's having a McDonalds salad at her desk, and writes something on the man's head. "We're up for the same promotion." In the next scene, the man walks into a meeting with his boss, excuses his tardiness with a phone call to China. His forehead tells a different story; it says WEASEL in thick black marker.

MasterCard. They are mocking their own "priceless" campaign. A geeky gas station attendent is ringing up the purchases of a young couple. Slushy, $3. Potato chips $2. Gas $31. Then he looks at them keenly. "Starting a life together...?" The woman shakes her head ever so slightly. "Rekindling a flame that has never gone out...?" Another shake of the head. "Satisfying a slushy fix?" She nods yes. "Priceless."

Kohler. An old woman in bed at home speaks Italian to her family. As the camera pans across family photos and pictures of her in daring activites as a young woman, subtitles translate her telling the family not to be sad, she has lived a long life and done everything she ever wanted to do. The camera reaches the window by the bed and we see the neighbor throwing open tall windows to reveal a gorgeous bathtub. The old lady exclaims "Damn!" then falls back, eyes closed and still.

Waiting. Where am I?

The Pittsburgh International Airport is one giant wireless hotspot. This makes my four hour layover almost bearable. I should reach my destination in another 3 or 4 hours.

I can't really tell you how the trip is going--after 23 hours in transit, all memories of the travel have been wiped from my mind. I am living in the moment, delighted to have eaten soup and salad, then brushed my teeth. Simple pleasures.

Adelaide is full of rednecks.

At midnight, MJ was feeling upset and in need of a walk. We went out to find a coffee shop in Glenelg--the seaside resort area of Adelaide. There were dressed-up couples and groups of youthful friends walking the street, tiddly and having fun.

MJ started to cry and we sat for a while on a bench. I put an arm around her and held her hand. Passersby looked at us curiously. We didn't fit the mood of their evening. When she was calmer, we continued our walk, hand in hand.

There were no coffee shops open at midnight.

But we did find shocking provincial homophobia. At first, I noticed just a gesture: a dark-headed woman hung her head out the passenger window of a passing car and gave us a "hang loose" chaka. OK, whatever.

Then I started to hear people. "Lesbos!" Mutterings as we passed by. "Lesbians, go home." "Gay girls!"

Two men in a white hatchback threatened to beat us to death.

When some drunken kids on a hotel balcony demanded "Kiss! Kiss!" MJ ripped into them and they backed down.

We giggled all the way back to the hotel.

It's embarrassing that my formerly fine and upstanding nation is having its election monitored by the organizations that oversee elections in places like Bosnia, Kazakhstan and Afghanistan. Even US citizens are getting into the monitoring act. The level of trust in the system is low.

IHT: European monitoring group to observe U.S. election
Portsmoth Herald: Monitoring the Nov. 2 election
Mathaba: A Clean Count?
Deutsche Welle: Monitors Criticize US Election Procedures

Some of my friends here in Tokyo are going to Florida to keep an eye on things on election day. They'll be armed with video cameras and cell phones to alert everyone of any problems.

"Sunshine and Gators" is hoping to raise a little more money to fund their flights and equipment costs. If you're up for a good time for a good cause, why not nip over to Nishi-Azabu tomorrow for a Halloween party?

Bush is Scary, Vote for Kerry
Wednesday, 20 Oct, from 7:00 PM
SuperDeluxe
3-1-25 Nishi-Azabu, B1F

Admission is 3000 yen, all going to the "Sunshine and Alligators" activists to cover transportation, vehicle rental, cell phones and other expenses. Live music, DJs, costume contest, door prizes, good food

For more details see www.sunshineandgators.com.

If you wanted to see more photos (or full-size versions) of Moody's Namena, check out the 728 shots Tod snapped during our vacation. They are unedited so you'll see the good, the bad and the ugly--I even left the ones in where I look fat and dorky.

728 Views of Namena

If you're reading mediatinker via a newsreader, you've may have missed the extended version of my backfilled week of Namena posts which include more stories and pictures. So please click through and have a look; it's such a fabulous place, I hope you won't want top miss anything.

Drawing on the dock.

While Tod snapped 733 photographs (I thank him for the illustrative materials in the previous week's entries!), I spent my time sketching. I wasn't quite so prolific, but I managed almost 2 dozen drawings.

Near the end of our stay, Jone was peeking over my shoulder watching me sketch the clubhouse window and bookshelf, I think it was. So I invited him to draw with me the next afternoon during his break. He and I sat outside and drew flowers. I showed him how to use the watercolor pencils I'd brought along. Soon we were joined by Benny, Maria and her sisters. It was really fun to watch them work. Benny drew a fabulous leaf. The girls drew flowers on the bushes around us. They are all very natural artists.

Jone has an untapped gift. His watercolor of hibiscus showed a delicate touch and a good eye. It was every bit as good as mine and he swears he hasn't drawn before. I was so pleased! We gathered again the next day. "We should have started this sooner," he commented. He was so delighted with drawing that I left the pencils, brush and the remainder of my watercolor paper for him.

Tapa patterns on cloth in the clubhouse.

There are traditional geometric patterns laid out in lines called tapa that are used in textiles and as decorative elements. They pop up everywhere on Namena--the bed canopies, the ceilings, the table mats, even the battle hammers that decorate one wall. I spent a lot of time examining them.

The sulu design in progress

So when Joan asked if I would draw them a logo to use for their new sulu and t-shirts, I incorporated tapa into the design. Moody's Namena have a tropicbird as their mascot, so the bird flies over three rows of tapa: one neat geometric that Benny likes from the fabrics in the clubhouse; one of my own design that symbolises the plants on the island (and the male/female triangle symbols since I'd just finished reading The Da Vinci Code); and a wave pattern on the top so the bird soars over the ocean. I was pleased with the result; Joan loves it and gave me a big hug when I presented it to her. I'm happy that a little bit of me will be on Namena for a while.

Us on the head of Namena's dragon. (Photo by Deborah Nation)

Our excuse for visiting Namena was to celebrate our 15th wedding anniversary. We wanted a relaxing week away from the busy city. It proved to be so leisurely and laid-back that I nearly forgot our anniversary.

I could have sworn the 13th was on Thursday. I was so sure of it that on Wednesday I was writing out postcards and dating them 12 October. But Wednesday evening, as we gathered for pre-dinner drinks in the clubhouse, Tod looked at the handwritten chart of tides which carried the date as well as the tidal hours. He raised his glass and wished me a happy anniversary. What a surprise!

The next night, we all celebrated with a bottle of champagne and a toast to happy relationships at dinner. The staff brought out a cake with candles, luscious tiara flower garlands, and a gift of Fiji-made frangipani bath products. They serenaded us with ukulele, guitar and voice. We danced and my sulu (the traditional wrap around skirt worn by men and women) nearly fell off. Tom joked that I needed a staple gun.

Thanks to everyone for making our nearly forgotten 15th so completely memorable!

The island is surrounded by a coral reef and so has a plethora of fishes and underwater wildlife. The water is turquoise over the reef and bommies and it is as clear as the sky.

The reef is a protected marine reserve, thanks to Joan's intervention. All divers have to buy a $20 "reef tag" that gives them permission to dive. The money goes to maintaining the reef environment and to scholarships for the children in Savusavu.

Divers on boats like this one dive up to six times a day; that's bad for the reef.

Joan had petitioned the government for protected status for their reef, to no avail. One of her friends who works for the UN dismissed her attempts at conservationism. "You won't be able to do it," he advised. That got Joan's Sicilian blood pumping and she initiated a grassroots effort by the local islanders. "I told our men, 'Go tell your fathers, your brothers, your uncles that the reef is being overfished and destroyed. This is your land, your heritage. You should preserve it.'" And it worked.

So what are they preserving? An astonishing array of fish--particolored parrotfish, surgeon fish with long snouts, puffers, damselfish, sardines, and dozens of others. I saw sleeping reef sharks and just missed a glimpse of a manta--Vijay pointed it out but it moved too quickly! There were so many fish I can't keep track of them all, though I tried to look up the ones I remembered in the reference books in the lounge.

School of yellowish spotted fish; me snorkeling; striped fish of unknown type.

We only snorkelled out at the reef one afternoon, but spent time in nearer the island gawking at the underwater beauty. Even near the dock there were schools of colorful fish and live corals in vivid blue and pale purple, swaying orange tendrils, big expanses of green-grey swirls. The ocean is better than a paintbox.

A chiton, formerly prized for jewelry; green shore crab; our shy turtle firend; a hermit crab.

Close to the shore we saw sea snails, chitons, anenome, starfish, hermit crabs (Tod's favorite) and brilliant green shore crabs. Blennies hopped around in the tide pools. Turtles migrate to nest on the island and we saw one of the three resident turtles swimming around our bure one afternoon.

Tod delighted in photographing birds. And there were many to choose among.

Banded rail; Pacific starling; unidentified little bird; spotted dove.

Around the bures we saw banded rails including three fuzzy black chicks, swifts, white-collared kingfishers, orange-breasted mylomeza (honey catchers), Fiji white-eyes, Pacific starlings, spotted doves, friendly ground doves, and the pesky mynahs that migrated from a passing ship and are eating all the white-eye eggs.

Red-footed booby; masked booby; baby booby; white-tailed tropicbird.

Over the sea we watched frigate birds chasing the boobies. There are red-footed boobies, masked boobies and brown boobies nesting on Namena. Terns skimmed the water and a reef heron appeared on the rocky shores from time to time. A magnificent white-tailed tropicbird flew around our bure.

At sunset we watched for the green flash and for the flying foxes. These beautiful bats have a wingspan of about a meter. They are huge and they feast on fruits.

Looking towards Scorpius and Corona Australis.

After the birds and bats had gone to bed, the stars appeared. Only one night of our stay was perfectly clear, but we took good advantage of it. After dinner we carried the camera, tripod, start charts and laser pointer to the beach for some fun. The Milky Way was bright across the sky. I saw nine shooting stars in the two hours we were on the beach.

The stars move quite a bit in 30 minutes!

I was so excited to see the southern constellations for the first time. We didn't stay up late enough (or get up early enough) to see the Southern Cross, but I identified Grus, Pavo, Eridanus, Horogulum, Triangulum Australe, Scorpius, and Corona Australis. We took one 30 minute exposure (too long really, as it's too bright) to capture the star trails around Scorpius.

The Magellanic clouds.

I was perplexed by two hazy patches due south. They weren't part of the Milky Way and they weren't clouds in the sky. A little research revealed that they are the Magellanic Clouds--galaxies in our own astronomical neighborhood.

Namena from the air

The island is shaped like a mile-long dragon--a triangular head towards the west, a lumpish body in the center and a long sloping tail pointing east. There are three main beaches with smaller beaches and rocky coastline accessible at low tide. The north is the leeward side, facing the distant island of Vanua Levu, where we started our sea journey. To the south, you can see the even more distant islands of Koro and the former leper colony of Makogai.

Namena wasn't always uninhabited. There was once a small tribe living there. Tom estimates the island would have supported about 18 people. There is rocky fortification built on the highest point of the island. It affords good views to the sea towards the only opening in the reef. There are several round wells or fire pits built along the hill. Where the volleyball court is not, was once a village. Tom and the men have found scores of pottery shards and other artifacts there and had them dated to 2000+ years old.

Birds enjoy a ripe papaya; the mysterious medicinal noni; coconuts in storage; bananas; Sara and I examine a fresh breadfruit.

Namena has numerous native food plants. We enjoyed the island's produce of papaya, coconut, breadfruit, and bull's heart along with some delicacies Tom imported--bananas, pineapple and Joan's delicious tomatoes. There's a vine-y pepper that grows like a weed, pandan (which Fijians don't eat, though other islanders do), and noni, a medicinal fruit that smells like stinky French cheese when it's ripe.

I was surprised at how familiar the island's jungle looked. Aside from the vines, it could have been Mt Takao or the hills of Pennsylvania. There were deciduous trees, jutting rocks, and shrubby undergrowth. My idea of jungle was shattered.

A jungle vine; hibiscus; borganvillea; a viciously red flower; frangipani; tiara

Flowers are Fijians favorite decoration and for good reason. Bougainvillea, frangipani, hibiscus, and tiara grow in abundance. Outside our bure was a stalky varigated plant with red flowers that the honey catchers liked to visit.

A poisonous seasnake; the spider that jumped on Tod's nose; a gecko; a blue-tailed skink.

There's not a lot of fauna on the island, aside from birds (see tomorrow's entry). We encountered a venomous sea snake, lots of geckoes and blue-tailed lizards, and a rat.

There are plenty of hungry mosquitoes, which contrary to our expectations, are active during the day. Moths and butterflies flutter around. Spiders, pale brown crickets, beetles large and small, and jillions of ants make up the remainder of the island insects.

One thing that Namena lacks is fresh water. All the water we drank on the island was rainwater. And Namena doesn't get a lot of rain, so you want to be conservative in your use.

An Australian man who came to Namena after WWII to try to recover from his shattering war experience lived on the island for a few months and dug a clever system of channels in the rock cliffs to route rainwater into a holding basin. Tom says that when he first arrived on Namena and camped out to explore the land, he discovered the excavations, cleaned them out and found them quite effective for collecting water. But these days he uses metal and plastic tanks for his water system.

Moody's Namena was a deserted island 20 years ago. Every man-made thing that exists on the island has been brought by boat, hauled by men up a steep hill and assembled by hand.

Supplies and mail arrive with the guests on the boat or in the sea plane. Namena have a small cargo boat (the generous gift of a wealthy guest) that makes the journey to Savusavu for fuel, tools, supplies, and food.

Namena's dock.

We were greeted at a concrete dock (the original dock was blown away during a cyclone shortly after it was built) and taken up to the top of the island in Tom's Polaris utility vehicle. They built the roads just five years ago. Before that everyone made the trip up and down 106 wooden steps.

Inside our guest house; a view from the veranda.

The guest houses, called bure in Fijian, are hexagonal structures of wood beams (telephone poles carried by hand up the hill before the stairs were built) and boards. They feature high ceilings, doors on four sides that open to a wrap-around veranda with ocean and forest views, and wooden floors made of a tree related to rosewood that is no longer logged. There is no electricity--we lit gas lamps in the evenings, and read in bed by the light of solar powered lights. Water is collected when it rains and gravity fed to sink and shower. The toilets use salt water. Each bure has a gas burner and kettle for making tea, two generous closets, built-in desks and a mosquito-netted bed. What more could you need? I wanted for nothing.

Guests get together for meals in the clubhouse

Meals are served in the clubhouse, constructed like the bure, but on a larger scale. A gas powered fridge supplies ice and keeps the mixers cool (bring your own booze from the duty free). Two round tables seat six people each and there are comfy chairs drawn up neatly around a large coffee table littered with reef identification books. Bookshelves line two walls under the large picture windows which are glassless to allow the breezes to flow through. Birds sometimes fly through, too.

An adjoining kitchen and office, a boat house near the dock, and the staff quarters at the other end of the complex complete the buildings on the island.

Staff outnumber guests on the volleyball court; I'm resting!

Down at one of the beaches, there's a grassy volleyball court, some hammocks, and a barbecue area. Trails crisscross the island for hikes from head to tail of the dragon.

That's about all on the island that's been touched by man. Tom designated 10% of the land as "developed" and leaves the rest wild. Nothing is off-limits at Namena; guests have the run of the place.

Namena was uninhabited 20 years ago when Tom Moody signed a 99 year lease from the native land board. In fact, namena means uninhabited in Fijian.

These days, Namena is lightly inhabited. Tom & Joan Moody live there year round, along with 12-18 staff (depending on how busy the resort is) and no more than 12 guests.

Tom & Joan (pronounced Jo-ann, I kept embarrassing myself by forgetting and calling her Joan) are native Pittsburghers, but have lived outside the US for over 40 years. They founded a posh resort in Panama in the 70s, but were chased out in a horrific incident in 1991 that ended with Tom in the hospital for two months and the resort abandoned in haste. Undaunted, they started over and after scouring the South Pacific, found Namena.

Tom's 76 now, and starting to slow down a bit (the shooting in Panama didn't do him any favors) but he was a motorcycle hellion and an avid diver back in the day so he has a lot to slow down from! He has more stories and tales than anyone I've ever met. Tom spends his days directing improvements and maintenance and enjoys meals with the guests.

Joan manages the business end of things. She's got a computer, runs the communication systems, handles reservations and local transfers to the island, and has a lot of connections around Fiji. Joan took her meals away from us, as she was suffering a cough and didn't want to infect the holidaymakers. So we didn't get to spend too much time with her, but I think she has nearly as many stories as Tom!

Jone plays ukulele; M'bola flanked by two "boat guys"; Victor the dive master

The staff are fabulous. Tom calls them kids, but they're not really all that young. Jone (pronounced Johnny) is the "waiter" and seemingly uncle to most of the rest of the staff. The three girls on staff are sisters and Jone's nieces. Everyone else is a cousin in some fashion. Which is good, because this working family doesn't get off the island too often. They have to get along or they'd be miserable.

Cook mixes up some kava; Vijay nimbly scales a coconut palm; a "boat guy" watches the dock.

Despite the fact that we were there for a week and there are only 12 people taking care of us, I still didn't learn everyone's name. Victor is the cheeky dive master. Don drives the boat. M'Bola and Vijay do everything that's required--from loading boats to leading the guests on jungle treks. Benny's the kitchen boy who is a great dancer and has a shy smile. There is also a cook and several "boat guys" seemed to hide behind the scenes to get things done.

And of course there were other guests on the island. Our stay was divided neatly into two sections by the departure and arrival of guests. Everyone we met was memorable and interesting.

Bradley on the launch ready to leave; Mike and Kim enjoying kava; Nancy on the launch.

The first group was two diving couples: Nancy and Bradley from Santa Cruz, and Mike & Kim from Auckland. Mealtime conversations were lessons in oceanography, conservation and diving lore. I am keen to learn to dive now.

Deborah in the window at sunset; Sara and Jerry wave goodbye to us; Gerard contemplates departure.

They left on Monday and Tuesday and were replaced by Sara and Jerry, married filmmakers from Melbourne who were decompressing after the Athens Olympics, and Deborah and Gerard from New Zealand who were there to work (!) gathering material for a program for Radio New Zealand and an article, respectively. We talked world politics and a little shop over dinner.

People have rarely figured so prominently in my holidays. I enjoyed it very much. Namena's remoteness attracts unusual travelers.

Air Pacific flies direct Tokyo to Nadi every day.

Getting there is not really half the fun. It's not really much fun at all.

Traveling to Namena from Tokyo is quite a trek. An 8 hour "red eye" flight to Nadi on Air Pacific, Fiji's national airline. Follow this by an hour on a tiny plane to Savusavu. Then a 90 minute boat trip across 25 miles of choppy sea to Namena's dock.

This Sun Air plane was like a minivan with wings.

Transstar Charters, owned and operated by Terry and Davina, was the final leg of the trip to Namena.

I was exhausted, even though we weren't doing anything but sitting and waiting. We arrived safely after about 15 hours of non-stop "getting there" and settled in for a week of "being there."

I'm about to hand over a wad of cash for some airplane tickets to Fiji. We leave tomorrow.

Moody's Namena is a tiny island resort where Tod & I will swim among the fishes, hike through the tropical forest, and lounge in hammocks while we read books. For some people, this would be a terribly dull holiday. But not for me. I'm packing art supplies, star charts, a bathing suit and not a whole lot else. Aaaaaah!

Which is all by way of saying there won't be any updates here for a little while, but I promise to backfill with photos of sand, sun and etc. as soon as we return.

My absentee ballot arrived in a charmingly hand-addressed envelope from the Allegheny County Board of Elections. Tucked inside were return envelopes and instructions, plus the most poorly pasted-up and over-copied sheet of paper I've seen in decades.

Look, Ma, I made it myself!

It's all very homespun, including the apology from the Division Manager of the Department of Administrative Services Election Division:

Because there is insufficient time to print and distribute the official absentee ballot for the November 2, 2004 Presidential Election, we have prepared the enclosed Write-In Ballot for you to vote and return by the October 29, 2004 deadline.

OK. Fair enough...no fancy printing. But doesn't Allegheny County have word processors?

At the minimum, you think they could have at least lined up the boxes and hidden the lines from the scotch tape. Shoddy workmanship doesn't instill a lot of confidence in the electoral process.

Hey, what's this typed at the bottom of the ballot?

But, no. There is nothing "over." And no information in the instructions, cover lettor or list of candidates. I wonder what the special question was supposed to be? And more importantly, does its absence invalidate my ballot??

Reuters is reporting on a study by the Center for the Advancement of Collaborative Strategies in Health that says many Americans will act on their own in a terrorist emergency, rather than following the government's instructions:

Americans Suspicious of Terror Plans, Survey Shows

An in-depth survey found that the people do not trust the federal government to take care of them during an attack, and would take many matters into their own hands -- endangering themselves and their families.

[...]

"People did not respond irrationally. Rather, they made rational, logical choices," Glied said.

For instance, many of those surveyed feared they could go to a smallpox vaccination site, get exposed to people who already had smallpox, and then be told they could not safely get the vaccine because they were pregnant, had eczema, AIDS or some other condition.

And people asked to think about a dirty bomb explosion said they would try hard to get to their children or other family members, even if told to stay put by authorities.

"Only 59 percent would stay in the building," said Dr. Roz Lasker, who led the study.

"Assuring the safety of people who depend on them is more important than their own safety," Lasker said.

The full study is good reading. Redefining Readiness: Terrorism Planning Through the Eyes of the Public

What the U.S. government needs is less press freedom (not that it's much more than lip service anyway), more lethe in the water to keep people complacent, and some really good propaganda.

You've seen ready.gov; does it compel you to follow its instructions? Compare duck-and-cover drills in the 1950s to looking contemplatively at dead fish. Backyard fallout shelters have more cachet than plastic sheets and duct tape.

Cruising through the Prelinger Archives, I found these gems of emergency preparedness from the US Civil Defense:

• What To Do In A Gas Attack (37 MB MP4) 1943. Presented in association with Clorox.
• Duck and Cover (10 MB MPG4) 1951. The children's classic.
• Survival Under Atomic Attack (22 MB MPG4) 1951. Could you be this calm?
• What You Should Know About Biological Warfare (19 MB MP4) 1952. Toxins with a smile.
• About Fallout (20 MB MP4) 1955. Atomic science for the concerned citizen.

It wasn't the whole country that blew up, but something big exploded in northern North Korea near the China border on Thursday. News is just filtering out to the world now with reports saying there was a 3-4 km mushroom cloud spotted and a crater visible on satellite photos.

Thursday was North Korea's 56th anniversary of founding. Did they detonate a nuclear bomb to celebrate?

Yonhap news agency has the most detailed report I've found so far:

Mushroom Cloud Spotted at North Korean Border: Sources

A reliable source in Seoul's diplomatic community said Sunday that a mushroom cloud with a radius of 3.5 to 4 kilometers was spotted, along with a massive explosion, in Kimhyongjik County in North Korea's northernmost inland province of Yanggang on Sept. 9.

"The Sept. 9 explosion occurred at around 11 a.m.," the source said. "But it is not clear yet whether the explosion is related to an intentional nuclear experiment or a simple accident." He noted that the site of the explosion and mushroom cloud is not far from the North's Daepodong missile base.

Similar reports are coming from Beijing sources, but some are saying that the blast occurred in the south, near the DMZ. Others claim that large expanses of smoke indicate a forest fire.

There's a lot of confusion, significant delays in reporting and not a lot of clear facts. Typical for N. Korean news. How very 19th century...

Looking for a property in Pittsburgh, PA? We're selling our lovely 1920s Mt. Washington bungalow on Winton Street. I adore this house, but know we'll likely never move back to Pittsburgh, so it's time to sell.

Brick and wood frame. 1470 sq ft. 3 bedrooms, 1 bath, walk-in closet, finished attic, antique gas fireplace, privacy fenced back yard, full basement. First floor interior was redesigned by local architect to create an airy, open greatroom with wood floors and views straight through to the back.

New shingle roof in 1996; new gas furnace in 1996; new bath unit in 2004.

Very convenient commute to downtown. The house is within walking distance of South Hills Junction (T and busway) and the local bus stop is only 2 blocks away. There is a grocery store, restaurants and other useful amenities a short walk away. Easy access to supermarkets and shopping malls by car.

All the assessment details are available at the Allegheny County website.

For a tour or more information, please contact Collyer Realty, 308 Boggs Avenue, Pittsburgh, PA 15211 (412) 431-0500

How do I influence others in a way that changes the world? This is something I've been thinking about lately.

My personal effect on the working of our world seems pretty insignificant. I have no progeny (human or creative) and I can think of nothing I've done that will live on after I die. Nothing sticks out as me having changed someone's opinion or actions. At least as far as I am aware...

When I consider it that way, it seems that only a handful of people have any real influence on the world--the leaders and luminaries we read about in the news, for example.

But for each newsworthy leader, there are levels upon levels of people who influenced him. And sometimes you just can't know that you'll be one of those influential people. As far as I know, there's no way to predict what effect you're going to have on the world through your actions. It's the butterfly effect on a human scale.

As a fictional example:

President John Doe makes the news when announcing a new government policy to build a colony on Mars. Who influenced him in launching the program?

• Sam Smith, his speechwriter, puts the words in his mouth that will be echoed in the media.
• Bill Johnson, a lawyer and lawmaker, helps him to draft the new policy.
• Jane Riley, his chief science advisor, meets with him for hours to discuss the possibilities, risks and rewards.
• Vladmir Morovsky, Russian premiere, announces a program to send men to the Moon and to Mars.
• Bricker Sloan, a lobbyist for the aerospace industry, arranges campaign funds and support.
• Millicent Harvey, an actress and personal friend, plays a space heroine in a film and relates the experience of making the movie.
• George West, supervisor at his first job, talks to him about the company's goals of corporate dominance in the widget market and jokes about dominance throughout the solar system.
• Betsy Doe, his mother, sends a care package of rocket-shaped cookies to his graduate college dorm on July 21, 1969.
• Mr. Wilkins, his 6th grade English teacher, reads aloud to the class from his favorite book, Edgar Rice Burroughs' Princess of Mars.
• Bob Doe, his grandfather, shows him the planets through a telescope when he's a boy.

So even though most of us are not the luminaries we read about in the papers, we do have influence on things those luminaries do. But maybe not the way we imagine.

All these thoughts raise more questions: Is there a way for an ordinary person to cut a wider, more obvious swath through the world? Is it important to do so? Do we need more luminaries? What the most important contribution you, personally, can make to the world?

The US president doesn't have to abide by international treaties and his own federal laws? Isn't that sort of like saying the Pope doesn't have to follow the ten commandments?

WASHINGTON (Reuters) - President Bush, as commander-in-chief, is not restricted by U.S. and international laws barring torture, Bush administration lawyers stated in a March 2003 memorandum.

The 56-page memo to Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld cited the president's "complete authority over the conduct of war," overriding international treaties such as a global treaty banning torture, the Geneva Conventions and a U.S. federal law against torture.

"In order to respect the president's inherent constitutional authority to manage a military campaign ... (the prohibition against torture) must be construed as inapplicable to interrogations undertaken pursuant to his commander-in-chief authority," stated the memo, obtained by Reuters on Tuesday.

Source: Reuters

anomie (n.) Personal state of isolation and anxiety resulting from a lack of moral standards in society.

bonhomie (n.) A pleasant and affable disposition; geniality.

Anomie is a fashionable word these days. I don't know who started its revival, some media pundit in America I surmise, but I keep running across it in commentary and news articles.

Anyway, anomie wasn't familiar to me and every time I read it, I thought of bonhomie. Taking in the context, 'geniality' wasn't even close to the right meaning. So I referred to the dictionary. As it turns out, I'm glad I looked it up because it's one of those philosophical words that refuses to stick in my vocabulary. (For a good laugh, go ahead and ask me the difference between sophist and solipsist.)

But my twisted brain was making a valid connection--anomie and bonhomie are the only two words commonly used in English that end in 'omie.' At least that I can find.

So here's a new philosophy (call it what you will): If people would embrace bonhomie as their personal standard, the world would have a lot less anomie.

In another lifetime, or so it seems, I spent a lot of time with sheep and goats.

My dear friends, Frank and Louise, raise wool sheep, angora goats, and herds of cats on their small farm south of Pittsburgh. From the time I dated Frank's son, Sam, at university until I left for Japan, I spent many weekends on the farm helping with the fencing, mucking barns, cleaning goats' feet and chasing sheep around the pastures to give them medicine.

It was hard physical work, but never too hard--mainly tiring, satisfying and fun. We cooked crazy foods, drank a lot of bourbon, and generally enjoyed life in the very best ways. I love Frank & Louise and the farm and I miss those weekends.

As I read this article on NEWS.com.au, I recalled a lot of happy memories:

Hermit sheep loses years of wool

A VERY woolly New Zealand sheep that survived six years in the wild was today heading back into the hills near naked after his heavy fleece was shorn off on live worldwide television.

The merino wether was shorn of nearly 27 kilograms of fleece now being auctioned for the cancer charity Cure Kids.

Owner John Perriam said today that after the experience the sheep, named Shrek, was in "fine fettle".

"He's quite incredible. His personality has changed, he's almost saying 'thanks mate, I want to go back to the hills now' and he was pawing at the doors of the shed this morning," Perriam told Radio New Zealand.

Merinos, which produce a fine wool used in clothing, are usually sheared once a year, but Shrek had managed to avoid muster for six years until found in a remote part of Bendigo Station in Central Otago near the Southern Alps in New Zealand's South Island.

Shearer Peter Casserly, 56, took more than 20 minutes to take the fleece off.

"The fleece was very heavy and pulling the skin up so it would have been very easy to cut him; that's why I was only snipping away slowly. I couldn't put in many long blows," he said.

Casserly, who has been shearing since he was 17, holds the world blade shearing record of 353 sheep shorn in a nine-hour day.

27 kg is a lot of fleece. The average merino fleece is around 7 kg and fills the volume of about three fluffy bed pillows.

After shearing, Louise always had a few greasy fleeces wrapped in sheets tucked up into the loft above the kitchen. I never got to shear the sheep. Louise claimed that as her right--I think she worried that anyone else might nick the sheep.

But I did wash, card, comb and dye wool, make felt, and spin lumpy yarn. Never managed to get the hang of knitting, though.

Today I registered to vote. I don't know exactly who I will be voting for; most definitely not Bush, but whether I vote for the opponent most likely to win or someone I would prefer to see in office, I don't know. But now I have the chance to choose.

My state's instructions for the Federal Post Card Application require you to state the last time you voted...it was 1990, I think. I wanted to vote the local councilwoman out of office--she had made some really bad decisions for the city. Voting was not a hassle at all as the polling place was conveniently located at the middle school across the street from where we lived.

That was way back in the early days of my marriage, when the neighborhood kids would shout "Fake yuppies!" at me and Tod in the evenings when we came home from our entry-level office jobs to our falling-apart $260/month apartment. We weren't fake yuppies at all; we truly were Young Urban Professionals although on a very modest scale.

Time has passed. I haven't voted in 14 years and have shrugged off all acronyms and labels. I may not be able to regain my youth, but I can still vote. And I will.

I am a slack citizen. I haven't voted in a Presidential election since...um...well, it's been a long time. Libertarian Party candidates never win much more than seats on the school board.

The Libertarian Party advocates personal responsibility, individual liberty, a free-market economy and a peaceful foreign policy. If those principles were adopted by the US president, I'd be proud to be an American.

I want to do something to change the direction the US government has taken on almost every issue. I just don't know what to do, exactly. My friend, Terri, flew from Tokyo to freezing cold Iowa to knock on doors for Howard Dean. I guess I could start "Libertarians Abroad" or something...

But the main (and easiest) action I can take is to vote, and I just can't rouse myself to register because it feels like my vote is useless. Any candidate whose platform I admire doesn't stand a chance, and I won't vote for a candidate I don't like simply to dislodge a worse one.

This is a defeatist attitude and nothing gets done by defeatists. So I'll think about it some more. If I do summon the enthusiasm to vote, I can get a downloadable absentee ballot request.

In case you're not sure of where you stand in the political spectrum, here are two online surveys to try:

World's Smallest Political Quiz -- only 10 questions
Political Compass -- a more thorough look at your leanings.

It pisses me off when politicians and activists go on about "gay marriage."

My view: people who make a lifelong commitment deserve recognition as partners whether they have the blessing of a god, the signature of a judge, or simply publicly pronounce their commitment. No matter what the method, the results are the same. A stable and committed relationship.

Maintaining a stable relationship is hard work, regardless of the sexes involved or the method used to create it. It should be treated with respect and given legal status.

People on both sides of the issue freak out over the wording. But it's just a label. A lifelong commitment is not an easy thing--the label is a throwaway.

Call all committed relationships "unions."

If "marriage" is reserved for religious unions, then Tod & I have a union, not a marriage. Does it matter? No. We mark our 15th anniversary this year and a label doesn't convey anything at all about our experience together.

My message to the politicians and activists: Ignore the labels and support all committed relationships.

As of December 12, 2003, as part of the Public Health Security and Bioterrorism Preparedness and Response Act of 2002 (the Bioterrorism Act), all food shipped into the US must be pre-cleared by registering the package with the FDA before mailing it. (fact sheet)There is no exception for quantity; even gifts of candy and snacks sent by international mail must give prior notice (no more than 5 days and no less than 4 hours).

So if I want to mail my niece a couple packs of the Japanese gum she likes, I have register myself with the FDA then fill in a form. Repeat as needed every time I want to mail some food.

The form requires you to identify each item by manufacturer (including the address and mfg registration number, if known), an FDA product code, the common name of the item (please select one from the FDA's preapproved list), a harmonized tarrif code, quantity, and so on. Seemingly ad infinitum but really only 45 steps as enumerated in the instructions.

There are three main exceptions to the prior notice system: 1) food you are carrying on your person for your personal consumption as you enter the United States, 2) meat and eggs under import control of the USDA, and 3) food made by an individual in her own kitchen and sent as a personal gift.

#3 is a giant loophole waiting to be exploited. Grandma Terrorists (tm) worldwide are perfecting their recipes for Anthrax Fudge, Botulism Brownies, Vanilla Plague Cookies, and Smallpox Surprise. Snow White's apple is on the way, but a box of factory manufactured chocolates has to go through hoops... Ridiculous.

The US is going crazy. Shouldn't this be in The Onion, and not on CNN where I found it this morning?

FBI urges police to watch for people carrying almanacs

WASHINGTON (AP) -- The FBI is warning police nationwide to be alert for people carrying almanacs, cautioning that the popular reference books covering everything from abbreviations to weather trends could be used for terrorist planning.

In a bulletin sent Christmas Eve to about 18,000 police organizations, the FBI said terrorists may use almanacs "to assist with target selection and pre-operational planning."

It urged officers to watch during searches, traffic stops and other investigations for anyone carrying almanacs, especially if the books are annotated in suspicious ways.

"The practice of researching potential targets is consistent with known methods of al-Qaida and other terrorist organizations that seek to maximize the likelihood of operational success through careful planning," the FBI wrote.

The Associated Press obtained a copy of the bulletin this week and verified its authenticity.

Next week: FBI alerts police to maps, phone books, encyclopedias, all non-fiction books, and people carrying library cards. Special caution urged with people who can read and write.

My sister, Jennifer at Wild Mushrooms, tells an exceptional story about how nature and poetry collaborated spontaneously for a once-in-a-lifetime event during a class she was teaching.

Setting: a community of penguins working together
Time: present day

Linux is a computer operating system developed by a lot of volunteers--some of them are geeky boys and girls; others are big companies. IBM loves Linux and has devoted a lot of resources to it, including donating bits of code to make it better.

Linux is free, "open-source" software and it's distributed under a special license agreement called the GPL. The GPL says that you must pass the software along with its source (the human-readable code that allows anyone to make changes to it) and that you are not allowed to add any more restrictive license requirements than the GPL.

In other words, if you add something to Linux, you can't require anyone to put your logo on it and you can't start charging people to use the part that you created. You give it for free, or you don't give it at all.

Enter the villain, twisting his mustache.

SCO was an important player in the Unix world but have gone downhill somewhat since its glory days. In fact, a few years ago, they bought a small company that had a beef with Microsoft so they could sue Microsoft. SCO won.

Now SCO is back at the judge's bench. They claim that Linux incorporates some of the Unix code that they own the intellectual property (IP) right to. They say that code entered Linux via IBM's donation.

The Unix world is filled with people buying and selling rights to bits of code, so it's not a surprise that IBM had some of SCO's old code. IBM and SCO worked together on Project Minerva in 1999, but abandoned the project in 2001. SCO says IBM stole their ideas and recycled them into Linux.

The good guys speak up

Now if it's true that Linux includes SCO's code, it isn't really a big deal. The Linux volunteers could remove the SCO code and write new bits to do the same things. The IP infringement ends when the code is removed. Problem solved.

The plot thickens

But SCO isn't saying exactly what parts are theirs and that means they can't be removed. If they aren't removed, then the IP infringement is still on and SCO can go to court. In March they sued IBM. The suit began with 1 billion dollars and currently seeks 3 billion dollars in damages.

SCO is a small company at the end of its life. Maybe what it wants is to create a nuisance and get itself bought out. IBM wasn't taking the bait. They prepared to go to court. Now there are two countersuits against SCO.

The villain wrings his hands...

Perhaps SCO worried that IBM would win. Last week, SCO demanded $699 for every CPU running Linux and $32 for every device with Linux embedded, like your TiVo and internet phone. This fee licenses the SCO proprietary code; anyone who doesn't pay faces a lawsuit.

Naturally, they are looking for companies that have lots of Linux computers. And of the Fortune 500, one company has agreed to pay up. Terms are not disclosed, nor the company.

The barbershop quartet sings a funny song

Ironically, and a very key point, is that SCO is a founding member of UnitedLinux, a consortium of companies promoting and distributing Linux under the GPL.

They have been distributing the disputed code under the GPL for over a year. By demanding a licensing fee, SCO violates the GPL they agreed to follow. So, according to the GPL, they can't distribute Linux anymore. But neither can anyone else.

Choose your own ending

A) Someone finds and removes all the SCO code from Linux. (read here)
B) Investigators uncover a SCO-Microsoft conspiracy to discredit Linux (read here)
C) Linux dies of lawsuit-itis (read here)
D) SCO loses the lawsuits and goes bankrupt, giving their IP to IBM to cover costs.

Dad sent all the older kids to Slytherin. (Funny how the newspaper can't spell.)

Today is Worldwide Pinhole Photography Day. Thanks to lil's excellent photoblog, esthet, I found out in time to sign up for a pinhole photography workshop here in Tokyo.

Last night was a talk by Edward Levinson, our instructor, and then we made our cameras. Today we took pictures and developed them.

Pinhole cameras are lensless, so they have no focus--or rather they have infinite focus. And becasue the apeture is small, they have great depth of field. Everything is in focus from close up to far away. Unless it moves...

We made our cameras from boxes and cans, painted black on the inside and taped to keep light out. We punched pinholes through aluminum, then attached the pinholes to the boxes with tape. Another bit of tape covered the hole.

That's all there is to it. You stick in some film or photographic paper, peel off the tape, count the seconds (or minutes) until you've properly exposed and then you put the tape back on. That's what we did all day today, interspersed with running up to the darkroom to develop out images.

It was my first time in a darkroom, believe it or not ,and I loved it. It's like magic to see the images develop. Photoshop is great but I learned to dodge for real!

Sometimes the negatives turned out better than the positives. I like the negative of this image, taken with Ed's three-hole camera. The lines from the shutter I sat in front ove overlap nicely. But the positive reveals entirely too much facial detail.

One photo I took (and one of Tod's, too) will be in the online event gallery which includes photos from all over the world. You can see the photos from our workshop in person in at Tokyo Photographic Culture Centre (Akasaka 3-9-1) from May 10 - early June.

(click the images here for larger versions)

From a report on news.com.au

"The Iraqis could use Western journalists as hostages, Defence force spokesman Brigadier Mike Hannan has said. "

Doesn't that sound as though the Brigadier is giving permission to use Western journalists as hostages? "Well, they could use the journalists, or we could let them use the supply seargants. Either way, we think that these populations make good hostages."

Journalists really have been getting themselves in harm's way which is either extremely admirable or quite stupid. 21 journalists have died in this conflict. I don't know how many are out there overall, but it can't be that many can it?

I've been feeling pretty helpless lately. The war is hard to swallow. What can I do?

Protests do nothing to sway the madmen who are running the show. They couldn't care less if a 100,000 people wave banners peacefully or play dead in the streets.

I have no Congressmen to appeal to, and even if I did, Congress gave up its power regarding wars to the president after 9/11, if not before, but that's another blog.

I could write articles (well-reaasoned or ranting) about how wrong the war is, how it hurts the stability or the entire world, how foolish I think Bush is. How America is going down the tubes. But there are scads of them out there all being read by people who agree. It's like preaching to the choir.

But I can do something.

I will boycott American and coalition products.

Maybe a boycott will gain the attention of the corporations that usually wield so much power. Perhaps they can pressure the coalition into stopping the war.

At first, I thought this might be a no-pain gesture for me, since I live in another country anyway. Then I started to think about it, and there's more American, Britsh and Australian stuff in my life than I expected. So no more American junk food, no British tea or Australian cookies. No Autralian wines. No properly-sized American clothes. No new computer hardware or software. No English-language books or movies.

We could sell off our American-based investments. Not that it would make much of a difference to the market, but it might feel good. There are other places to put our money.

I could take it a step farther and stop using what American things I already own--but that would mean no computers. And I'd be going around more or less naked. Since I like being dressed in public and I like working, I have to think more about that before acting.

But it's an empty gesture if I'm the only one doing it.

If lots of people take a small stand against American and coalition economics, then there's some power there. On the other hand, it's probably futile. But it makes me feel a little better and a touch more powerful, so I'm going to do it anyway.

And I'm not the only one. There are quite a few similar boycotts going on around the world. They take a lot of different forms--boycotts of big brands only, not watching TV, boycotting oil companies and defense contractors, avoiding American entertainment and fast food.

Boycott Brand America 33,000 people
Boycott lists from an Aussie peace group
Consumers Against War in Germany
Boycott Bush

I think this is a gesture that you can make at a level of self-sacrifice that feels right to you. Care to join me?

I don't often write about politics because mine are wooly at best and extending to wacky. But I have a question that maybe you can help me think through.

Bush issued a 48 hour "get out of Iraq or else" ultimatum to Saddam Hussein today. Bush must think that Hussein's not going to leave because Hussein's repeatedly said he's not going to be exiled. So it's a pretty sure thing that this ulimatum will be ignored.

But what if Hussein, his family and his ministers and generals did go? Then what?

Where would they go? Set up a government in exile in the mountains of Afganistan, maybe? Team up with the other members of the "Axis of Evil" in a remote, hidden headquarters?

What would they do? Gather followers? Build some weapons?Wage a guerrilla war? Form a terrorist cell? (guerrilla vs. terrorst vs. freedom fighter is a blurry line)

Does anyone think that by accepting exile, Hussein's core philosophies and tactics are going to change? It's not like he's going go to Elba and wither away or find a happy like on Niijima, the exiles' island south of Tokyo.

Nima is my travel agent.

He's also Tibetan--one of 40 Tibetan exiles in Tokyo. That's a pretty small community--a slim .00033% of Tokyo's population. When the Dalai Lama comes through Tokyo on his travels, all of the Tibetans know it and go to see him.

Talking with Nima over dinner last night, I discovered that he lived in Pittsburgh for a while when he was a kid. His sister still lives there. She runs an Indian/Nepalese store in Oakland and a few years back she had a restaurant called Himalayan Tibetan Restaurant.

I ate there quite a few times. In fact, it was from pamphlets there that I first learned about Tibet, its plight and the movements to save Tibet. And, of course, its food.

Who'd ever think that I'd do business with the brother of the Tibetan woman who owned a restaurant I'd eaten in 6,000 miles away and ten years ago?

Discoving quirky connections among people makes me grin from ear to ear. I love being an expatriate in this truly small world.

Since the US increased its terrorist alert to "orange" level, there's been lots of news about what to do in the event of a terrorist attack.

One thing that's being sugested is to have an action plan for the family in the event of an attack. Identify meeting points; know your local emergency evacuation points for schools and so on; keep a kit of emergency rations and blankets handy.

It really seems like they stole the earthquake disaster plans from Japan and stuck "terrorist attack" in them in place of "natural disaster."

So where do you meet your people in the event of a disaster?

While I was on the train to Pittsburgh, the space shuttle Columbia failed to land. This news was delivered to me by my in-laws when they picked me up at the station.

Had I been at home, I would have known minutes after it happened and probably would have had as much information as anyone could as the story unfolded. As it is, I have only heard the news through 3rd parties and haven't even checked for myself.

I'm obviously on vacation now.

Why is that although the news says Americans support Bush and America's aggressive war dance, nobody I've spoken to here thinks this coming war is a good idea. Except maybe my father, who is cryptic about military things in general.

There have been anti-war protests and demonstrations but I think they are ineffective. We can complain all we like, but generals, advisors and others in power are not influenced directly by thousands of rallying citizens. The masses are too easily dismissed, even when they have a good point. If you don't agree, think for a minute of how you disdain groups you don't belong to--football fans, country music listeners, Republicans, cat lovers, customers at the store where you work, clueless computer users...

So what can we do? Think ahead and act now before it's too late. How do we prevent a future conflict? Change attitudes--our own, our friends, and most importantly, those of the people in power. Become the people in power.

The only way to change attitudes is to think carefully and form new opinions. So here is a question to start with: Is "the American way of life" better than the lifestyle in a country you've never been to and only know though media reports? Why? Should "American values" be globally adopted? Do we have the right to impose our lifestyle on others?

Discuss this over dinner with your friends tonight. See what happens.

Part of the daily routine at my parents' is watching Jeopardy on TV, so I've been hanging out questioning the answers along with them. I'm really bad at it. "The author of this 17th century novel wrote about his scurvy." I'm amazed the the contestants know the answers.

I'm more astonished by the ads that air during Jeopardy. 80% of them are for prescription medications. "Ask your doctor if Premoxolipicidil is right for you." Dorothy Hammill plays crack the whip with a passel of kids while talking about arthritic joint pain; old men walk dogs while voice overs explain that their life is improved by a specific brand of anti-depressant; smiling women show off their soft-focus children and good blood pressure thanks to some drug or another.

These are not over-the-counter medications. They are probably not used by more than a very small percentage of the population. Take high blood pressure as an example. The CDC says that 25% of Americans experience it during their lives, but most can control it through exercise and diet. Why advertise something that the general population doesn't need? It's not like advertising a new toy or a food that's unnecessary but might become a fad. This medication has to be prescribed. Do these ads have a good return for the drug manufacturers?

"Oh, my diagnosis is arthritic joint pain? Can I take the same stuff as Dorothy Hammill, please? I love those ads!"

OK, for all you who say I shouldn't hate the US for its inflexible rules, irresponsible people, fatness, lack of privacy, horrifying overuse of cars, and the 45 other things that are on my "Why America SUCKS" list--there is one thing that I like about the US. It has good bookstores.

I was in an enormous Barnes & Noble today that kept me entertained for nearly three hours. I bought 2 novels, two technical books, and a picture book for under $100. And I had lunch there, too.

Unfortunately, what should have been a bit of relaxation with my sandwich and latte was marred by the very loud (#6), mindless chatter and bickering of the cafe employees.

(And a side note: why is it so hard to find gloves in late January? I could have had flip flops and short sleeved t-shirts at three stores, but only one had any gloves--in two colors and two styles.)

Jenn is doing a poet-in-residence program at Heights Terrace Elementary in the Hazleton Area school district where I when to school. Tomorrow she has two long sessions with 4th graders and I was going to go in and help her do renga, Japanese chained poetry, with them.

Only I don't have an Act 34 clearance so I'm not allowed. Act 34's basically a certificate from the police saying you don't have a criminal record. I had one a long time ago when I was doing my student teaching and when I was certififed to teach here in PA, but it's long expired.

I can understand Act 34 clearances for classroom teachers who have regular contact with the kids, but for guests? I suppose the public schools don't let uncleared parents come in to volunteer. And they must not invite businessmen to speak or have famous people give presentations. That's madness.

Yet another reason to dislike the US. My list is growing...

Today I spent the day at St. Nick & Mary Elementary. I'm exhausted but the kids were so much fun.

They were a bit wigged out by the nori and I was surprised that they didn't really like the green tea (sweetened, even). We learn some soroban basics; took pictures with the digital camera; tried writing our names with katakana. I told them stories and we wrote kanji. It was a day full of Japan and Japanese things. I hope they had a good time; I definitely did.

I had lunch in the cafeteria--hamburger, fries, overcooked beans and canned apricots. School lunches have not changed in the last 20 years.

Will today's activities help me get over jet-lag? Probaly not. I'm feeling that dead tired drag right now. My brin is melting and my body is cold to the core. Must go have some more of the leftover green tea, I think.

Yesterday, I posted a peevish, anti-US policy rant on a webboard I belong to. It was part of a longer thread on the Homeland Security Act and I was one of the dissenting voices. I'm sure very few people there read it; certainly noone replied.

It was one of the first times I've dissed the US government in a public forum, though if you see me face-to-face you probably already know how I feel about the current administration, the apathy of US citizens to the erosion of their privacy and freedoms, the cringing horror I feel when I think about someday returning, etc.

But in terms of what I can do to change things, I'd say "not too much." Run for office? Write letters to the editor? Be the editor? Spread dissent though my weblog? Ha. I wish I had the cunning.

Why is it just a tiny bit unnerving, then, that 15 hours after I posted my little rant, a good friend in the States was approached by an FBI agent? They went to lunch together. The agent said she was actually hoping to have lunch with one of my friend's colleagues who wasn't in. And she assured him that she's not investigating him yet (said with a grin and a wink).

But in the words of another friend, "Dude, the 'not yet' ploy is literally right out of the handbook, as is the 'I was looking for so-and-so, but...' gambit."

Food for conspiracy theory thoughts, I guess.

Is it safe to read news yet? I stopped a few days before "the anniversary of the tragic event" and I do not relish seeing any nationalist, patriotic aftermath. Would someone check to see if all the flag-waving, teary-eyed reportage is over?

Love,
Your Cynical Friend

I am not sure what to think about America's changing immigration policies. Beginning next month, aliens entering from "high risk" countries are to be fingerprinted at their port of entry. If they remain in the US longer than 30 days, they must register at an INS office and check in annually.

Here in Japan, all resident aliens register with their town office and must renew their registration if they move or after 5 years. When we arrived, fingerprinting was required but was dropped about two years ago. I don't mind being registered with my ward because every alien is treated equally. And, after all, I'm a guest here and I have no rights, really. However, if I were being subjected to a policy that applied only because I am a (insert characteristic here), I would be annoyed.

Which is why I think the new policy of US Immigration and the DOJ is a little creepy--no, it's a lot creepy. They are targetting just the people that are fashionably suspicious.

Sadly, that's always been the case--the US's immigration policies are historically reactionary. Anarchist killed our President--no more anarchists allowed! Chinese laborers took over gold panning and railroad jobs--Asians are restricted from becoming citizens.

Where does it end? What's coming next?

Washington state in the northwest US has passed a law banning the use of the word Oriental. "There is a need to make clear that the term 'Asian' is preferred terminology, and that this more modern and nonpejorative term must be used to replace outdated terminology," the law says.

Yes, 'oriental' is outdated when referring to people from Japan, China, Korea and the scads of other Asian countries. Most people who keep up with these things use Asian instead. But is it necessary to pass a law to ban an unfashionable word? What words are next in line for being outlawed? Dude. Hottie. 'Rents.

If you really want to change vocabulary, you must manipulate the media or infiltrate popular culture. Make the use of 'oriental' embarrassing, painful, or otherwise personally disadvantageous and it will slowly disappear. Introduce Asian as the latest buzzword and it will spring to everyone's lips. "That cafe is so Asian; I could spend hours relaxing there!"

OK, these folks are just reinforcing the stereotype of clueless Japanese tourists. In a report from the BBC, we discover:

"Two tourists engrossed in their guidebooks and heading for the birthplace of Jesus Christ unwittingly wandered into the centre of a war zone on Tuesday.

"The Japanese couple were amazed to find that Bethlehem's Church of the Nativity was at the centre of a 16-day old siege between Israeli soldiers and Palestinian gunmen.

"Palestinian residents of Bethlehem looked on in disbelief as Yuji Makano and his girlfriend Mina Takahashi walked through the debris towards the church seemingly oblivious to the evidence of war."

TheJapanese couple explained that they'd been travelling for six months and hadn't kept up on the news. Hello? Bullet holes! Tanks! Journalists in flak jackets! Look around you, world travellers. Geeez.

Japan's government has pledged $500 million dollars to help rebuild Afganistan, 1/3 of the total pledges received at this week's meeting of Afganistan leaders and various nations here in Tokyo. Afghanistan would like to receive $15 billion in aid over the next ten years, and this meeting has given them 10% of their goal.

Japan isn't allowed to participate in wars, according to its postwar Constitution and is often seen (domestically and internationally) as a bit player on the world political stage as a result. Maybe they are trying to buy their way into a bigger role.

After two weeks of relatively frugal vacationing on Maui, Tod & I treated ourselves to one blow-out night in Waikiki before boarding the plane back to Tokyo. We stayed at a hotel called W. After showering with all the hotel beauty products, we wrapped ourselves up in fluffy hotel robes and ordered what turned out to be the most fabulous room service meal I've ever eaten. We set ourselves up for a wake-up call and a taxi to the airport in morning, then curled up in bed and watched a movie.

This morning, there was a limo waiting for us. Not just a fancy four-door car, but a stretch limo with seats for seven, tasteless white piping on the black leather interior, and empty cut glass liquor flasks sitting on the shelves that ran under the dark tinted windows. I've never been in such an over-the-top vehicle. It was great fun to pretend I was a rock star.

So the vacation is over; we're home again in Tokyo and life is back to normal. For now.

The Hawaiian language is integrated into everyday speech here. Aloha replaces hello and goodbye. Mahalo (thank you) springs up on signs--Mahalo for not smoking--and in announcements--Passenger Smith please pick up the blue courtesy phone, mahalo. Kapu (private) enhances the no tresspassing signs posted on fences. In the real estate listings, I discovered that an ohana is a cottage.

But the phrase I like most is Maui no ka io--Maui is the best. So true.

Sea kayaking is great fun. This morning, we joined a kayak/snorkel trip with South Pacific Kayak. Our guide, Lee, paddled with extreme grace making us look like the clumsy amateurs we are. Tod & I paddled right into a big wave.

We headed out to the Coral Gardens to snorkel. After the big wave, the sea was very calm and paddling for half an hour was easy. With goggles and fins on, I hopped overboard and spotted a ray, several interesting corals and hundreds of colorful fish.

But even more impressive were the whales we watched as we paddled back in. They were at a distance but leaping friskly with lots of flukes flying and huge splashes. These humpback whales, Lee informed us, come to Hawaii to calve. When the babies are big enough to take a trip, they head to Alaska to feed (they don't eat here). A mother humpback can lose up to 3500 lbs of body mass here in Hawaii. What a shame I'm not a humpback!

We trekked through a forest of dense bamboo, splashed across a chilly, knee-deep stream, and clambered over rocks to reach the waterfall.

We weren't the only visitors to hike in. Eight well tanned, mud smeared naked people were perched on the boulders surrounding the swimming hole. We watched as they stretched arms to the sun, then dived from their perches into the water below.

Now if that's not extremely intimidating to a pasty-white, pudgy girl, I don't know what is. I left my swimsuit on when I waded into the pond and swam over to the waterfall. Climbing the rock face to stand in the waterfall and then ducking in under the veil of the falls, I sureptitiously and enviously watched the naked people cavorting.

The trail was a bit rough, but the view was worth it.

To celebrate the equinox, we drove to the top of Haleakala, Maui's 10,023 foot volcano.

Above the clouds, we saw the landscape change from lush tropical greenery to sparse shrubs and rocks. An endemic plant, the silversword, which looks like a cross between an aloe and an artemsia, captured our fancy. It grows for twenty years before flowering and dying. 70 years ago it was near extinction but it has made a comeback, with several thousand plants growing in the harsh environment of the mountaintop.

No tropical holiday is complete without plenty of fruity drinks. Every afternoon, we fill our daily quota of blended fruit ice and rum.

We've made the classics, most remarkably pina coladas with a coconut from a tree on the property, and we've invented some of our own. As the sun set yesterday we sipped cantaloupe, pinapple and orange juice spiked with vodka.

This evening? Probably something with the papayas we picked from our tree and the bananas that are ripening in the basket on the counter. Mmmmm. Happy Equinox!

Uluhe is an indigenous groundcover that has the most unusual growth pattern.

It unfurls, fernlike, into two leaves. Each of those spreads two additional leaves and so on until it reaches its end where the leaves branch out to form a pointy-ended fern shape.

These plants cover everything that isn't forested. Roadsides, clearings, recovering lava flows. They tangle into impenetrable brambles and their dead leaves create a fire hazard when the weather turns dry. Forestry services consider them a nusiance but I think they are pretty.

The mysterious boat comes by every morning.

It cruises past quickly at a distance about 3/4 of the way to the horizon. There's no sense of scale--it could be a twenty person yacht or a radio-controlled toy. Our binoculars bring it into clear focus but there is nothing to see that indicates how big it is. No people are vi