SpinCycle's Adventures

beats by dr. dre - Monster headphones

2010-03-14T23:57:00.000-07:00

Short version:
I love my new headphones, Studio - beats by dr. dre (from Monster)

Long Version:
OK, I don't usually post product reviews, although my friends are always telling me that I should because I'm so anal about comparing features of different products and tracking the latest innovations. I guess to the extent that I do the research, I should be sharing that knowledge.
In any event, this review is not so much that result of thorough research as much as it is pure reaction and enthusiasm. OK, before I start on these particular headphones, let me give a little background.
If you work in the music industry, you are familiar with the terms "studio monitors" or "reference monitors" -- if you don't work in the industry, you'd just call them speakers. So, what's the difference? Well, ask 5 audio experts and you'll get 6 different answers :-)

Having said that, basically, studio monitors are intended to play back music exactly as it was recorded, so that someone who is recording or mixing music can hear exactly what is going on. Whereas speakers are sometimes designed to emphasize the bass or the treble depending on the type of music that the buyer is likely to listen to.
More recently, most studio monitors are "powered", that is they have their own built-in amplifer. That way, the sound of the music you play on them will not depend on the amplifier to which they are connected--it will vary only based on the input signal, i.e., the music (rather than the music + the amplifier).

So, now you know about studio monitors v. speakers -- let's talk about beats by dr. dre, the high-end studio monitors of the headphone world. This is a set of headphones, called Studio, that is made by Monster Cable. What is different about them? Well, a number of things, but the most prominent is: they are powered, just like studio monitors. And I would suggest that being "powered" is even more important and makes even more of a difference with headphones.

Why?

Well, many of the devices that people listen to these days are not big devices powered by a wall outlet, such as a cassette deck (remember those), or even a CD player, but rather a mobile phone or an MP3 player. These are small portable devices that don't have a lot of power and are typically connected to some cheesy, cheap earbud headphones (which can distort and damage your ears--I may need to write another blog post on this topic). So, even if you wanted to hook them up to some decent headphones, the devices wouldn't have the power to drive a good set of headphones very long.

Enter "beats by dr. dre". These headphones not only have high-quality components and great noise isolation, they also take two AAA batteries to power their speakers. This has a dramatic effect for a couple of reasons.

First, because the headphones provide the power, the quality of sound does not depend on the amp built into whatever device is the source of the music. Instead, if you provide the "Studio" headphones with the music input, they will amplify it clearly and and across the spectrum. I immediately noticed the quality of the bass, which normally is not very good whenever I listen to portable devices, and much of the music I love (music of the African Diaspora) is bass heavy, such as Reggae, Soca, and Funk.

Second, because the headphones are powering the speakers, you avoid the distortion that you sometimes get with cheaper mobile devices when you increase their signal output.

The design the Studio headphones is sleek and smart -- they look great and sound great. I was a little skeptical at first--I thought that they might be more of a gimmick associated with a big name (Dr. Dre). But when I tried them, they sounded great, and the concept made total sense--powered headphones!

Moreover, they use normal batteries. I have to confess, I'm so tired of devices with built in rechargeable batteries. It might seem like a nice idea, but in reality, if I'm out on a long hike or unicycle ride (yeah, that's what I do), and my MP3 player goes dead, I'm not going to have a laptop strapped to my back that I can use to recharge my MP3 player via USB. Just give me something that takes AAA or AA batteries. I buy rechargeables, and then I carry extras with me. Let's get Green people!

So, beats by dr. dre uses two AAA batteries -- just bring some extras with you -- very cool.

Now, I'll be honest, I probably won't use these headphones to DJ. I could, but the quality would be lost on me in that situation. These headphones are about listening to music just about everywhere else, and really being able to hear it!

And there is one more feature that I haven't checked out personally, but if it works as advertised, will be off the hook. You can hook these headphones to a phone that plays music (e.g. an iPhone, BlackBerry, etc) and with a special cable that comes with them, be able to press a button which pauses the music and allows you to answer the phone (built in mic!). Thus, you can have the phone/music functionality without being limited to the lame, eardrum destroying stock earbuds that come with your phone. I'll report on this later--once I get my new phone :-)

Great East Bay Tennis Instructor

2009-07-25T12:30:00.000-07:00

I have noticed that the ratio of blog posts/online comments giving feedback weighs heavily in favor of the negative. That is, we blog/rant when someone/something/some company has done us wrong. When you're pissed off, you're motivated. But alas, we're not nearly so diligent when it comes to giving praise, at least not to the extent of posting it.

So, in that vein I wanted to give a thumbs up to someone I just met--Bill Conway, the tennis director/instructor at Bay O Vista in San Leandro. I just finished a one-hour clinic with Bill and several other intermediate players. It was really fun, and I was wondering to myself, "Why haven't I been doing this for the past 15 years!"

I was a pretty high school tennis player. And I continued to play throughout my life, but I struggled with injuries here and there. But what seemed to really hold me back was just my own stubbornness in not being willing to take lessons or attend clinics. I figured, I knew all I needed to know, I just needed to practice. That wasn't true. First, I didn't know everything. Second, techniques and prevailing wisdom had changed. And third, there is no substitute for having someone watch you and give you feedback. I started to realize this last year, when I was reunited with an old friend and tennis partner, Leutrell MC Osborne, II. Leu gave me a couple of tips that really helped me -- and got me excited about tennis again.

Then, my other tennis buddy, Robert Wallace, took his racquet to get re-strung at Bay O Vista. I went with him to pick it up and met Bill Conway, the tennis pro there who did the stringing. It was so great to meet someone really relaxed, knowledgeable and confident in that knowledge without being overbearing. As luck would have it, my racquet popped a string that same day. I had Bill re-string it, and took his intermediate clinic the same day I picked up my racquet.

So, if you are looking for a good place to play and/or take lessons, I recommend Bay O Vista -- you don't need to be a member to attend their tennis clinics. And definitely say hi to Bill Conway.

Umpiring Baseball v. Being a Justice

2009-07-13T23:16:00.000-07:00

I remember when Justice Roberts first made his analogy that being a Supreme Court Justice was like being an umpire, suggesting that he didn't make the rules he just applied them. I was amazed and deeply disappointed that none of the Senators had the brains or the balls to take on that analogy. I never blogged about it then, but now that the use of that analogy has reared its silly head during the vetting process of Judge Sonia Sotomayor, here is why I think that analogy is terribly flawed.

Baseball is a game, yet a fairly complex one. It has a set of rules that fills 125 pages, including numerous diagrams and over 40,000 words; this does not even count the index to the rules, which fills another 7 pages. You can find the rules here:

http://www.mlb.com/mlb/official_info/official_rules/foreword.jsp

The U.S. Constitution contained roughly 4500 words (I say "contained" because some of the original text was replaced during the amendment process, such as with the 12th Amendment); the Amendments tack on another 3500 words, which puts us at 8,000 words. That is one fifth of the number of words used to govern the game of baseball--and the U.S. Constitution did not include diagrams!

Forty thousand words to govern every conceivable scenario that could arise in a game. Yet, fewer than 10,000 words to govern every conceivable scenario that could arise in a society. Is the Constiution really so complete that the Justices just "apply the rules" like umpires?

The obvious conclusion is: no, the framers could not have possibly thought of every scenario. (Which is one reason I think the term "framer" is appropriate; they build the framework, but the Constitutional house continues to be remodeled and upgraded to deal with the changing conditions in which it must house its society.)

One example is with guns. Many argue that a bill limiting handguns is not constitutional, but few argue that a bill limiting one's ability to have or build a nuclear weapon is unconstitutional. So, who draws the line on which "arms" we have a right to bear. At the time of the drafting, there were neither semi-automatic guns, nor nuclear bombs. Lines get drawn every day, and those that claim they don't are either disingenuous or just plain dumb.

I hope that some Senator's aide, or Jeffrey Toobin, will read this and please help put that inapt analogy to rest.

Photos -- the right balance

2009-05-07T00:45:00.000-07:00

This past week, I had to say goodbye to a dear friend, Marlon Mayorga. We had been close friends from practically the moment we met over 10 years ago.

As I went through old photos to find pictures of Marlon to put online, I discovered that, while we had spent a lot of time together, and had danced in several salsa groups together--including one I founded, and another Marlon founded--I didn't have a single picture of Marlon and me, arms over shoulders, in the classic friends' pose.

I also realized there were a number of other friends with whom I had no decent pictures (other than big group shots). I'll be the first to admit that I'm horrible about taking pictures. My friends kid me because I do a lot of crazy things (unicycle basketball, salsa in the street, etc.), but I'm too busy doing to be documenting.

Marlon is on the left in white shorts; I'm on the right in the white shirt.

My girlfriend, Rachel, is the opposite. She photos everything, too much so, in my humble opinion. But, I think there is a happy middle ground. You really do need to slow down once in a while and capture the moment with your friends. Appreciate them; be there, present, in the moment. Don't assume that they'll always be there, because they might not be, and then it's too late :-( You live in my mind's eye Marlon.

And to my friends, yes, the next time you see me, I may just force you to take a picture with me ;-)

Importing Contacts from Yahoo! into Google

2009-02-25T17:04:00.000-08:00

After several years of trying, I was finally able to import my contacts from Yahoo! into Google. When I started a couple of years back, Google would choke on the number of contacts I was trying to import (> 2500) -- it would hang, and sputter, and then tell me that some subset of the contacts had been imported (ranging from 1000 to 1800).

Also, Google would choke on the size of some of the fields, e.g., I would use the Comments field extensively in Yahoo! Contacts--but Google apparently didn't allocate as much space to this field as Yahoo! did. The really disappointing/surprising thing was that Google was supposedly trying to grow GMail. Well, Yahoo! Mail has a lot more users than GMail, so you would think that they would want to make the migration process as easy as possible--and that they would have tested it.

Anyway, I would re-test the Gmail contact import process every few months, and each time it would choke--until finally, in Feb. 2009, I tried it and it worked! But not without some issues along the way.

First was Google's issue of not permitting the deletion all of your contacts at once. I can understand that one should be cautious about doing this--but after a few warnings, you ought to be granted permission--it's your account! Google says you can do it in the "older version" of Gmail, but that just hangs with no response. In the "new" version of Gmail, you can do it, but only 500 contacts at a time--and they don't make it easy for you to select 500 contacts at a time. You have to just scroll down and take a guess :-(

Also, this process of deletion hung up in Firefox (the latest current version), so I had to switch to Safari. When I finally deleted all my contacts, I then imported the .CSV file Yahoo had generated. All the contacts came in!

But alas, more issues. I discovered that there were embedded HTML ASCII codes in my contact info. For example, instead of " I would see "e; and instead of ` I would see '.

Was the issue caused by Google's import process or Yahoo!'s export process. I examined the .CSV file and found that the culprit was Yahoo! So I:

Searched-and-replaced all of the ASCII codes with the appropriate characters and saved the file
Re-deleted my Google contacts 500 at a bloody time
Re-imported the .CSV file.

Success, it imported correctly, more or less.

I was disappointed that Google did not map a number of fields, including web addresses. Thus, if I had associated a website with one of my contacts, it was clickable link in Yahoo!, but NOT in Google :-(

Just as a test, I then exported my contacts from Google to a .CSV file. Lo-and-behold, that file did not have HTML ASCII codes, but had the proper characters. The programmers at Google are pretty sharp on the gritty details (if they sometimes miss the bigger UI and workflow picture) :-)

There is one thing that is still missing that I really liked having, and that was the search engine extension for my Yahoo! contacts in Firefox. Search engine extensions allow you to use the search box in the upper right corner of Firefox to search a particular site. It is part of the MyCroft project.

There was a search engine extension for Yahoo! contacts, thus, I could type a name in the search box and immediately search my contacts. I use this box at least a few times each day. Not having it will add a couple of steps to my daily routine (although having all of my contacts in GMail will offset some of those steps.) But it would be nice if there was a search engine extension for Gmail contacts.

Actually, since we are talking about the "search engine king" -- Google -- I'm still wondering when they will make a search across all of my data available to me: Docs, Contacts, Blog, Maps, etc. -- a single place where I can search my data. I guess that won't generate enough ad revenue to put it at the top of the PRD.

Our Friend Roar Kilaas is in the Hospital

2009-02-07T14:12:00.001-08:00

Hi Friends,

As you know, I mostly use this list as an overly-upbeat message board about events and occasionally my thoughts on something. There have been times, however, when I have used this list to share bad or urgent news. This is one of the costs of having a life rich with good friends.

Last Sunday as most of us were getting ready to watch the Superbowl, Roar Kilaas, had an accident on his motorcycle. Many of you of know Roar; he is a good friend and kindred spirit of mine--an avid motorcyclist, great dancer of many styles (samba, salsa, rueda), drummer, and technologist. Roar is originally from Norway, but has been Berkeley based for many years, and is one of the nicest people
you will meet.

In his crash, Roar damaged his T7 and T8 vertabrae. As a result, he lost feeling below his chest. On Thursday, they operated on him to insert a metal rod in his back to relieve some pressure and clean up the damage. At this point, we don't know the long term prognosis.

What we do know is that, no matter what, Roar has a long recovery ahead of him, and he will need the support of his friends.

I have not been able to see him yet (they wouldn't let me in at ICU), but I am going out there today. He is now allowed to have visitors and would be happy to see his friends. I have been advised that in person visits are welcome, but not phone calls. He is in room 577 at John Muir Hospital. Visiting Hours are listed here:
http://www.johnmuirhealth.com/index.php/visiting_hours.html

Finally, regarding updates. Roar has many many friends. So I will not be able to respond to individual inquiries. And, if you can believe it, Roar is not on Facebook (I kind of like that fact).

Currently Louise Joanes is sending out updates via Roar's email address kroar920@yahoo.com -- so if you like, you can write to that address to be added to the update list.

What I imagine happening is that we will at some point probably set up two things: a Google Group [I have since created this group: Roar Power] for posting messages regarding Roar which people can subscribe to, and a Google Calendar to allow people to see a schedule for when Roar could use your help--if we all share the burden, it will be quite light and very gratifying. Once these are set up, I will send out a notice allowing people to opt-in.

Reminding you to drive safely and take a moment to appreciate your
health and the health of your loved ones

Jim

P.S. To those of you who I have neglected to write these past few weeks (months) I apologize, especially Gaspard in Goma, DRC--my thoughts are also with you my friend.

One story from this historic night

2008-11-05T01:05:00.000-08:00

Dear Friends,

It seems that just when I start to lose faith, to allow cynicism to get the better of me, the American people--my people--show me their collective wisdom. Tonight, Barack Hussein Obama was elected the 44th President of the United States of America: convincingly.

An African-American lawyer friend invited me to her house to watch the election results. By the time I arrived, around 8:30pm PST, John McCain had reportedly called Obama to concede the race. Her house, which I had never visited before, is in Richmond, CA--the murder capital of Northern California. When I told people I was going to Richmond they half-joked that if Obama lost, I would not be able to get out of Richmond safely.

But Obama didn't lose. He won. The results poured in swiftly. By 9pm PST, John McCain was on the TV screen making a concession speech. I cried during that speech. I simply couldn't control emotion that I didn't even know I possessed for this election. I cried because McCain gave a speech that reminded me of the decent man that I knew he was, the man of the 2000 campaign who swore off negative ads, the man who called torture what it was and opposed it, the man who called for campaign finance reform; but that man seemed to disappear during this campaign until he gave his concession speech. In it, he recognized Obama's achievement, he quieted the crowd's negative reaction, and he called for unity and support of our newly elected president.

In fact, what really made me well up with emotion was that McCain's speech brought home the fact that the election of Barack Obama, a man with an African father and an American mother, with a strange, Arabic-sounding name in the most anti-Arab period in American history, the election of this man was a REALITY. And I was proud again. I was proud to be American. I was proud that my people saw past skin, past names, past hype and misdirection, and simply heard the man, and decided this is the man we chose to lead us.

I left her house (after listening enrapt to Obama's speech acknowledging his victory) and went to another friend's* house in Oakland. This friend is also an African-American--a lawyer turned businessman. He was raised in D.C. and attended an Ivy League college and a top law school--one of the brightest people I know, and also one of the most controlled. I have never seen him get too excited, too angry, or even a bit drunk; very controlled--he actually reminded me of Obama, and vice versa.

But when I showed up at his house in which he and his wife were hosting a small party, it was clear he had been drinking. And you know what, we were going to drink some more, and that was just fine! I have known him for nearly 25 years, I had stayed with his family in DC, and in all that time I had never seen him in such a state. It was one of relaxed exuberance! He had let his guard down and he was downright giddy!

No one can see into a person's mind and soul with certainty. But knowing this man as well as I do, here is what I was seeing. My friend was never one to limit himself, to say that he couldn't do something because race would hold him back in American society. And although he believed that he could do anything, and I believed he could do anything, I suspect that in the deepest recess of his mind there was some doubt, some concern that his "blackness" might hold him back ever so slightly, ever so unjustly.

I think most every one of us had this same doubt about whether a Black man could be elected President. And then it happened. And it was as if a burden had been lifted off of my friend's back, as if the asterisk next to "you can do anything" had been erased--and he truly could do anything. Because if a half-African man named Barack Hussein Obama, who was born to parents whose marriage would have been illegal in 16 states at the time, can be elected the President of the United States, then anyone who has the brains, talent, and determination to chase their dreams will not be held back by their skin color in American society.

Whether you believe in the truth of that last statement, Barack Obama is proof of at least the potential of its truth. And I believe it will allow a whole generation of people like my friend to breathe easy just for a moment, to let their guard down and be downright giddy at the prospect that the only things that they will be judged on are those relevant to the task at hand.

Sleep well America, tomorrow the real work begins.

Peace,

Jim

* I do not wish to include his name to respect his privacy.

Qualifying for the Ride The Lobster!

2008-01-07T12:34:00.000-08:00

If you are not a unicyclist, you are probably scratching your head asking, What the heck is "Ride the Lobster"?! Well, the name is a little deceiving. It is the first ever, multi-day unicycle race--effectively the "Tour de France" of unicycling. (Note: I will refer to the event as "RTL" going forward).

RTL Overview

The event takes place on June 16-20, 2008 and will cover 800km across the length of the Canadian province of Nova Scotia. There are a number of reasons for this first-of-its-kind event, and you can read all about it on the official website: http://ridethelobster.com The unicycling community is buzzing about this event--with online forums discussing with details of latest unicycles, rules, strategies, and the competition -- one person recently managed to go 29 mph on a unicycle!

Teams are made up of 4 people--3 riders and one support person--and riders can switch off as often as they like. Most of the riders will be on big 36-inch unicycles referred to as "Cokers"--which is reference to the most common brand of 36" tire used on these beasts. Some people will be on smaller 29-inch unicycles, as there are now geared versions of both the 29 and the 36. A geared unicycle has a hub with an internal gear which can allow the rider to propel the wheel around (typically) one and a half times, for each one rotation of the pedals--a distinct advantage if you can master the mechanics of riding one.

Although this is the first time for the event, I would like to think of RTL as a cross between the Tour de France and the Bay to Breakers (a running race which takes place in San Francisco). The Tour de France is THE event of the bicycling world, and every entrant is dead serious; the Bay to Breakers is an event that draws world-class talent, but also has a hugely fun element to it--with entrants dressing up in fantastically creative costumes.

In order to qualify of the RTL each team member must ride two consequtive days of fairly long rides. The rides are given a rating (RTL calculator) and the first day must rate at least 125 and the second day at least 150. The ratings are based on distance, climbing, weather, road condition, and time of day. If you ride on a completely flat road, you need to ride 87 km (54 miles) the first day, and 90 km (56 miles) the second day -- which is a LOT of riding on a unicycle. Aside from strength and stamina, other factors kick in with long distance unicycling--particularly getting saddle sore, and dealing road conditions such as camber. So of the other factors which invariably come into play allow for qualifying with shorter distances as you can see if you look at the calculator linked above.

Getting Started

I started unicycling in July 2006. My initial desire came from seeing unicycle basketball, in Berkeley of course, which soon turned into my weekly passion. At the beginning, my legs would burn just from riding once around the block, and a small bump in the sidewalk would send me flying into UPD (unicyclist lingo for Un-Planned Dismount). I could never imagine that I would be attempting something like the RTL just two years later.

Soon, Tom "the Hub" Holub, and Chris "Show me Blood" LaBonte were soon dragging me out to "MUni" -- mountain unicycle. This introduced me to a whole new level of skill and fitness. It also introduced me to a number of great parks in my backyard (the San Francisco Bay Area)--and some really great MUni enthusiasts.

Still, it wasn't until this past summer (2007), that I have an occasion to ride (almost) continuously for more than a few miles. Even whilst MUning, I would still have to walk portions, and we would take breaks fairly often.

The first time I went on a big ride with Tom, he amazed me. He flew up Old Tunnel Road to Skyline on a 29" unicycle with 110mm cranks. That's a big wheel with very short cranks. Unicycles (except for the extremely rare and expensive Schlumpfs) do not have gears. Thus, the way to adjust your gearing is by crank length -- the shorter the crank, the faster you can spin, BUT, the harder it is to go uphill, as you have a shorter lever.

Within a few weeks I jumped out of the skillet and into the fire -- I was soon riding in the "Tour of San Francisco" with a group of riders all on 36" (and me on a 29"!) where I first met Nathan Hoover, his son Beau, and some of the other top bay area unicyclists. I met them in the middle of the tour just before they were going to ride to the top of Twin Peaks. I told Nathan I wasn't ready for that climb and would meet them in the Panhandle of Golden Gate Park. Nathan said, "C'mon, you can climb Twin Peaks, no problem, really." The guy just met me and he was already pushing me up the hill!

I took the challenge, and managed to make it all the way to the top without stopping--exhausted but proud. It was during this time that I was really beginning to appreciate what great athletes these riders are, contrary to the circus clown juggler stereotype. And that was really the motivation--the combination of skill and athleticism (along with a certain geeky cool factor). Remember that when riding hills, unicyclists are doing double the work--they work hard going up, AND going down as they have to brake with their legs. (Some unicycles do have hand brakes, which can be applied to help, but it is never the same and as easy as being on a bike where downhill the only thing you exercise is your forearms).

Summer was filled with MUni exercusions and unicycle basketball, capped off by the Berkeley Juggling and Unicycle Festival, and the following weekend by the 2007 California Mountain Uni cycle Weekend, organized by Corbin Dunn, Jason Heimann, Nathan Hoover, and John Foss. (I also got an introduction to disc golf -- thanks Beau!)

By late summer, there was a buzz about RTL, people were starting to form teams, and thankfully for the East Bay riders, Tom Holub decided to enter RTL. I say "thankfully" because Tom is the guy who organizes most of the East Bay unicycle events--the Berkeley Juggling & Unicycle Festival, weekly unicycle basketball, and MUni rides all over the place. This is why I call him "the Hub".

1st Attempt

So, in the Fall, Tom organized a number of training rides which were to be topped off with a Friday-Saturday set of rides, right after Thanksgiving, which would serve to qualify the participants for the RTL., and to burn off some turkey and stuffing. I took part in a couple of the training rides, but needed to be out of town when they were doing the actual qualifier. My dad had knee replacement surgery and I stayed with him for a couple of weeks during his recovery.

By the time Tom and friends were doing the qualifier, my Dad had been out of the hospital for over a week, and I could leave him alone during the day. Thus, on Sat., the day Tom was doing the 2nd day of the qualifier, I decided to go on a ride from my Dad's house (Laguna Niguel) to Newport Beach. Along the way, I got the idea that I could do my qualifier that day and the next.

I learned a few things during that day: it is a lot more fun to ride with some friends, and start early! I got home that night and I was beat. I had a cramp that I developed taking part in a charity Unicycle-a-thon a few days earlier (which involved riding around a track as fast as I could for an hour). The scene at my Dad's condo was comedic. He was stretched out on the couch with his left leg swollen and in a compression stocking, and me on the floor in agony. Someone knocked on the door, and I literally could not get up; I managed to get on my hands and knees and started to crawl, but my Dad was now up on his walker with wheels and beat me to the door.

Finally, I got on Google and mapped my route http://tinyurl.com/yrmmfe to calculate distance. Then I plugged those numbers into the RTL calculator along with the adjustments for night-time riding and my estimate of the ascent and descent of the ride. It turned out to be 126 -- just one point over the minimum, and with very little carryover.

I was disappointed because I was really hoping to be well over the minimum to make the next day a little easier. Nevertheless, I planned to go for it the next day and get my qualifying done. When I got out of bed the next morning, however,my legs sent me a message: "It ain't happening today!"

2nd Attempt

Fast forward 4 weeks to December 29, 2007. Nathan Hoover and Andy Cotter--the two people handling the logistics of RTL--had organized a dry run of a typical RTL race day. A few of the teams planned to ride from San Francisco to Santa Cruz (approx. 75 mi) in simulated race conditions: teammates would switch off passing a baton, etc. It was really a good exercise to get a feel for how transitions would be made and some of the logistics of this type of race.

I had spent the holidays with my family in Southern California, but really wanted to go on this ride just for the experience. So, the day before, Friday, I drove the 440 miles from Laguna Niguel to Oakland--and despite it being the holidays, it still took me three hours just to get out of LA!

Ashley, one of my teammates, and the person who first pulled me into the whole unicycle thing, said she would like to go along too. Rachel, our third riding teammate, was hanging out in China and Tibet with her sister, but she did manage to play some Uni Hockey in Hong Kong! By now, Ashley and Rachel, who had both qualified with on the Tom-organized rides, were rightfully getting antsy about me qualifying.

So, once again, I made the last-minute decision to try to turn this ride into the first day of my two-day RTL qualifier. Only this time, I was carrying a few extra holiday pounds, and had lost some of the conditioning I had gained from Tom's training rides. Fortunately, the conditions were right for making a run at it. First, my friends were around (at least at the very beginning), second, it was raining lightly, which is fine once you get going, and third I had Ashley there cheering me on.

Right out of the gate I was in pain--that darned cramp I kept getting in my upper-inner thigh. Then the road camber--and my hip and lower back started to ache. I couldn't believe I was having this difficult of a start, and my spirit was deflated as I trudged on--I had serious doubts about whether I would ever qualify for this race.

I toughed it out, and discovered that after about an hour I was warmed up. It took that long to work the kinks out! By now, the other teams were way down the road. Mike Scalisi had blown by me on a 36" uni with a 1.5 geared hub--making it the equivalent of a 54" unicycle. I'm sure he was doing more than 20mph. And in hot pursuit was Beau Hoover. Beau is an amazing unicyclist, and a monster hill climber, but Mike's no slouch, and there was no way Beau could keep up against a geared 36.

Mike Scalisi, Tom Holub, and Chris LaBonte comprise the riders for Team Totally Doable. "Totally doable" is Chris's trademark expression he uses on MUni rides when attempts or gets others to attempt a section of a ride that is "totally nuts" to attempt and that will likely result in injury and blood. The thing is, Chris likes injury and blood, especially his own. I've never seen someone who always stands up after a fall with a big smile--bigger if he has an obvious mark or is bleeding.

Nathan, his son Beau, and Scot [don't know his last name] Team Yellow Line Fever. These guys are fast and will, along with Totally Doable, be one of the fastest teams there. But, as they learned on this day, having a geared unicycle is a distinct advantage--as to the surprise of everyone--Totally Doable nudged them out and finished first. I'll bet that Yellow Line Fever will incorporate a geared uni into their mix :-)

Finally, the third team riding that day is an all women's team called Team Venus featuring riders Irene Genelin, Michelle Manna-Hastings and Louise Lovelle. I had not met the other two women, but Louise is a friend and is an amazing unicyclist. She only recently started riding a 36" and is now incredibly strong.

Because Ashley and I were just two, we skipped part of the route. The idea was for her just to get some training time in, and for me to do enough to have a decent first day for the RTL qualifier. Ashley had borrowed a 29" Schlumpf from a friend--a Schlumpf is a geared unicycle made in Switzerland. So, she was riding the equivalent of a 44" unicycle.

The light rain continue for most of the day as we made our way down route 1 on the coast -- past Pacifica, then Devil's Slide, onto Moss Beach, then a nice flat stretch to Half Moon Bay. From there, rolling hills to San Gregorio, Pescadero Beach, and past the Pigeon Point Lighthouse.

By 3:30pm the teams had all arrived at Santa Cruz--all except yours truly. They had made 5:30pm dinner reservations, but because they had all arrived much earlier, they were ready eat--and I didn't blame them. Nathan called me on my cell to check in--I told him I was still a few miles from Davenport (which was another 11 miles from Santa Cruz), but that we would plan to be there by 5-5:30. I didn't want to hold up their dinner, but I knew I needed to log some more miles to make this day count for RTL.

The cramp was still there--neither better nor worse--just a mild gnawing. The real issue was the road camber, i.e., the sloping off to one side. The vast majority of the time, this camber was a slope downwards to the right--except for some left-hand turns on inclining road. Since the camber was always to one side, the strains on my body were not symmetrical.

As I continued to ride up and down the rolling, cambered roads, I had to resort what a I call CORA (camber offset route alteration)--that is, I started to ride on the other side of the road, against traffic. This is generally not a good idea, but the traffic was very light, and whenever there was an oncoming car, I would make sure to give it wide clearance. And the CORA method gave me much needed relief from my asymmetrical riding position.

Sometime after passing through Davenport, I saw Ashley waiting for me at a turnout in the road. I was spent; the other teams were waiting for us; and I was pretty sure that this would be a good qualifying first day.

By the time Ashley and I arrived at the restaurant on the Santa Cruz wharf, everyone had eaten. Still, we received a hardy reception--everyone was in great spirits and there were still plenty of stories being swapped. Like any group of enthusiasts, unicyclists can wax on endlessly about the minutiae of our obsession. Mike Scalisi is at the top of this category--he can never tires of discussing the details of unicycle frames, hubs, rims, tires, handlebars, brakes, you-name-it with effusive enthusiasm. So you can imagine the discussion around the table--details of RTL, the benefits of a geared hub, and so on. It also happened to be Mike's birthday, so he had some family and friends at the restaurant as well, adding to the festive spirit at the end of a long day's ride.

As Ashley and I drove back home, we discussed my route for the next day. She suggested that doing the route from day 1 of Tom's qualifier would be good because it was scenic and not too steep.

[All of Tom's Photos from Day 1]

Qualifier Day 2

I decided to take Ashley's advice and go with Tom's day one route. I had tallied up my previous day's ride which turned out to be about 43mi--and with the other factors calculated to be rated at about 150--well above the 125 I needed. The bad news was, once again, I was wiped out when I woke up. I wanted to get an early start, but by the time I got moving, located the route info, printed it up, and got myself on the road, it was 10am--not good. Moreover, because I had been out of town, I had very little food in the house. I was sure that I would pick something up on the way.

The one problem with the route was that it began in Castro Valley, which required me to take BART, and to transfer trains. As I waited at the MacArthur BART, when I went to board the train, there was Ashley, exiting. She gave me a big smile and said, "Go Jimbo." I smiled sheepishly, embarrassed at my late start, and knowing that I really needed to get it over with that day.

Because it was a Sunday, and the usual vendors at the BART station, were not there, I needed to find some sustenance. By the time I found a place to grab some snacks and get on the road in earnest, it was 11am. The good news was that it was a beautiful day. Although I wouldn't be getting any bonus point for rain, I much preferred having a bit of sun, especially since it was pretty cold out (by California standards).

I was soon riding on what was for me completely new roads--up into Cull Canyon on narrow windy roads, past bucolic farm scenes that I didn't imagine existed so close to San Francisco. Still, the ebb and flow of energy caused me some concern. I hadn't eaten well that morning, and my choice of meals the previous night--clams--had not left me feeling charged full of carbs.

Moreover, while the hills I was riding were not that steep--not compared to the crazy rides Tom dragged me on around Joaquim Miller--they were still hills, with camber and cars buzzing by. By the time I had started on the second leg of the ride into Cayote Canyon, I knew that I wouldn't be able to finish this particular ride, and begin formulate a new plan.

The rule in the RTL qualifier is that it doesn't matter how long you take to do the miles--as long as you do them in one day. I also remembered what Andy Cotter had said the night before at the restaurant--that you're almost better off riding a flat ride to do the qualifier. At this point, I knew that I would need to do another major stretch of riding--preferably with less climbing, and with more food options along the way.

By now I was about a mile into Norris Canyon, heading uphill, when I just had to stop. It was time to turn around. As I was writing down the address of my pivot point, a woman rode past on a bicycle and asked if I needed anything, "Fresh legs", I responded with a road-weary grin.

I made it back to the Casto Valley BART station by 4pm and while I waited for my train I started to formulate the San Francisco route I would ride later that night. Soon dejected Raiders fans were boarding at the Coliseum station, fresh from witnessing another Raider loss. (Our time will come again.)

Upon reaching my stop, I discovered that I had a flat tire. Drat! I hurried home, looked all over for my patch kit to no avail. Choices: call Tom or Mike or Ashley and try to chase down another big wheel to ride; rush to a bike shop and buy a patch kit; or ride my 24" uni. I opted for the last choice. I was already exhausted and I didn't want to spend the psychic energy of chasing fixing or borrowing a unicycle--I just wanted to ride and get it over with. The downside was that a smaller wheel means pedaling a lot more rotations to cover the same distance.

I took a quick shower, jumped on the internet to calculate roughly how far I had gone, and how much farther I needed to go to make sure I qualified. Ball park was that I needed to do at least 12-15 more miles; maybe more--the nighttime multiplier was not as high as I thought it would be.

I jumped on BART around 6pm and headed to the SF Embarcadero. Soon I was riding along the Piers, bundled up in layers of clothing, wool gloves, and a snoopy hat I had had since I was a boy. The was just the change of scenery I needed. It was flat, and there were no cars buzzing my me on this wide sidewalk. Additionally, pedestrians offered (mostly) positive comments as I cruised along. Finally, there would be FOOD--I was getting really hungry. But to my amazement, Fisherman's Wharf was packed with tourists. I stood in line waiting for clam chowder, but started getting cold and decided I'd rather be warm than fed, so I left without eating--big mistake!

Nevertheless, at this point I was feeling pretty good. Taking the 24" had actually been a blessing in disguise--I didn't mind spinning along, and tackling the inevitable hills of San Francisco was so much easier.

As I was riding along Ghiradelli, I realized that it was pretty cold, and that the RTL calculator also had an "extreme weather" factor, but it didn't actually define what "extreme" was. It wasn't freezing, but my guess was it was in the high 40s and dropping. I could see my breath--that should count for something! Anyway, I figured I needed every advantage I could get, especially since I wasn't sure how long I would last. I decided to call Nathan and get a ruling.

Soon I was riding along the Marina with my headlamp illuminating the path and my cell phone pressed to my ear as Nathan explained to me that while my effort was admirable, the weather I was in was not really "extreme". If there is a video I could have of my entire day, it would be of that moment.

I had intended to follow as flat a route as possible, but talking to Nathan got me fired up, despite the negative ruling. I decided it would be really cool (and COLD) to ride across the Golden Gate Bridge. By the time I got up the bridge, I realized I was really hungry--which means I had already waited too long to eat. Worse, there was not a vendor to be found. And the bridge is not open to pedestrians at night! I met some tourists from India who took a picture of me, and then I headed off to the Presidio. My plan was to ride over to Clement Street in the Richmond district where I knew there were lots of great restaurants that would be open--if I could just make it there.

In no time, I was riding in complete darkness save my little headlamp angled to the ground in front of me. I had, in bicycle lingo, bonked. Even though I had only a couple of miles to go, I needed to dig deep to keep going. It reminded me of some of the long stretches I had endured in my motorcycle rides across South America and Africa. But a more recent inspiration came to mind. I had just finished reading Seven Summits, the story of the first men to climb the tallest mountain on each of the seven continents. They were not professional mountain climbers, but rather successful businessmen in their 50s who had decided to act their dream. One of them, Dick Bass, would recite poetry and other inspirational quotations to himself to draw on his inner strength.

Rather than thinking about inspirational quotes, I simply thought about Dick Bass's effort, and mine suddenly became much easier. I had done the same thing when I was stranded for days on a train crossing the Nubian desert in Sudan, followed by another week stuck in Wadi Halfa. I reflected on Ernest Shackleton and his voyage on the Endurance--it put my minor miseries in perspective and made them eminently more bearable.

Finally, I reached the 15th Street gate. Just before starting the steep decent out of the Presidio, I had a UPD. I walked briefly and was beginning to tremble--more out of hunger than cold. I was suffering a self-inflicted problem--I had not taken care to eat properly. Doh!

By the time I got to Clement I was almost delirious--forget the restaurants, I've got to eat now! At 10th Ave. and Clement, I spotted a 7-11. I locked my Unicycle and literally staggered into the rather busy convenience store. I picked up and immediately opened a Monster C Odwalla, a bag of Hawaiian Sweet Maui Onion potato chips, a 3-pack of chocolate-chip cookies, and a banana. I waited in line as I drank and ate, and then proceeded to sit on the curb and finish everything but one cookie. I rode a mere 7 blocks, an then stopped at Giorgio's Italian restaurant, where I had 2 glasses of water, a salad, a cup of coffee, and a meatball sandwich that I could only manage to eat half of. I felt ill.

It was now around 9pm. I figured I still needed to do another 5 miles. I decided I was going to go overboard--to make absolutely sure that I wrapped it up and qualified right now! When I got back outside it was COLD (I was thinking maybe even "extreme"). I bundled up, burped a coffee-meatball-potato chip-cookie-banana burp, jumped on my uni to many puzzled stares and headed for Arguello.

I then headed up Turk and was in my old stomping ground--I had lived in this neighborhood whilst a graduate student and used to work out at the Koret Center at USF. By the time I reached the zenith of Turk at Lyon Street, my food was digesting, and I was warming up enough to take off my cap. Although I still had a ways to go, I started to feel good because I knew I was going to make it!

Down Gough to Market, down Valencia to Cesar Chavez, over to Mission Street (another of my old stomping grounds), back up Mission all the way to downtown. Jumped on the Embarcadero BART and headed to the East Bay at 11pm. I was confident I had done it--but just to add one last bit of buffer, I exited at Rockridge, one exit past MacArthur which is closest to my house, to add one final little bit of padding.

Success!

I walked in the door at 11:38pm. I spent a few minutes on the computer to get a idea rough idea of the distance I covered ... 18 miles, OK, I'm in good shape. I shot off a quick email to Nathan to let him know I made it; took a hot shower, and then passed out!

In fact my rides came out to be rated at 150, and 176. (Link to my second day routes.) My second day demonstrated both tenacity and some incredible stupidity--but alas, you have to be a little "off" to torture yourself for two days in order to qualify to do it again for 5 days ;-) Nevertheless, our fourth teammate who will be our support person, Heather, has already lectured me about taking care of myself, and is outlining an eating regimen!

So, look for us, Team Yam Power! (long story behind the name) -- Ashley, Rachel, Heather, and Jimbo, in Nova Scotia, June 16-20, 2008! One Love, One Wheel ;-)

Photos

I love having photos of events, but I'm the worst when it comes to stopping and taking them, particularly when I'm focused on a task, like a qualifying ride. So, I only have a few photos from the rides, here. Ironically, lots of strangers were taking photos of me during my rides -- so if you see a photo of a unicyclist with different colored shoes and socks, send it my way.

Two people that are assiduous about photo-taking are
Nathan Hoover - click here and
Tom Holub - click here.

Mashups, Unicycles, Linux and the Law

2006-11-12T03:24:00.000-08:00

First of all, I'm making a special effort to start using my blog as my little diary, at least on some of the social aspects of my life. Not because I think lots of people are going to read it, but because I move in some very interesting, and bizarrely diverse, circles, and I want to record some of the details that will escape me later. And there are also some interesting connections coming full circle.

Tonight, I went to one helluva a fun event -- Bootie, a monthly mashup party put on by Adrian and Mysterious D. But before I tell you about the party, it's worth telling the story of how I wound up there.

I've been DJing in the Bay area for about 15 years -- since back in the day when Bobby and I would rent the Java Hut and throw parties. Over the years I've developed friendships with some of the best DJs in the Bay, especially those who spin Latin, Caribbean, and African music. So, I decided to throw an event at my house to bring them all together. In addition, I invited a couple of people I didn't know but wanted to reach out to, including Matt Hite, a mashup specialist, whose blog I had started to read.

Well, I wound up canceling the shindig because of the passing of my friend Carlos Aceituno. Nevertheless, Matt contacted me and invited me to this month's Bootie. I had just DJed last Sunday an event for EFF.org, and then on Wed. I went to the Creative Commons Salon (www.creativecommons.org). While I was there, I was talking to someone but was distracted by the incredible mashup of music that was playing.

I went over and introduced myself to who turned out to be Eric of the the Kleptones. Eric was in town for Web 2.0 as a speaker as well as the headliner for Bootie on Sat. night. Worlds were colliding :-)

Eric turned out to be a great guy -- very down to earth, a wizard on Ableton Live (music software package), and very knowledgeable about music. Actually, I have found that most good DJs know a lot of music outside of the genre(s) they are known for.

OK, so having met Eric and also having been put on the guest list by Matt, I was planning to go for sure to Bootie. Matt and I had never met, so he asked how he would spot me -- I told him I'd have on one red shoe and one yellow shoe.

Well, I had DJed the night before for the African Caribbean Soccer Club, known as AfriCari. That was a total blast (and I almost won the "best dressed" contest -- which was really a dance contest) -- but I'll have to come back to this. The short version is that I wound up at someone's apartment with some Peruvians and a Garifuna, and was spinning everything from Punta to Soca to Guaguanco and drinking straight Pisco.

So, I woke up with a wicked headache, and drank water all day trying to get back on track. I wasn't feeling very social, and starting playing around with Ubuntu (Linux) on my computer. It burns CDs fine, but still can't get it to print!

Anyway, by the time I left it was a little past 11pm. I drove down my street only to realize I had forgotten the CDs I had burned for Eric and Matt. I returned and picked them up. Also, put my unicycle in my car.

Somehow all the delays and procrastination worked out. I arrived at the vicinity of the DNA which is around 11th and Folsom and teeming with people due to the various clubs in the area. Since I wasn't able to park very close, I rode my unicycle over to the DNA. That made for lots of attention -- all positive. Then, right as I rode up to the DNA, there was Eric, standing alone smoking a cigarette.

We spoke for a few minutes, then he headed in and I headed to see if my name was on the guest list. When I asked the woman if my name was on the list, she told me that two people had just asked for me, and pointed in their direction. I ran up to them, and it was Matt and his wife. Boy did I luck out, because Bootie is a HUGE event, and I never would have found them. Also, I wore one black shoe and one red shoe rather than one red and one yellow -- so they might not have spotted me.

OK, those are the fortuitous circumstances that brought me to the Bootie. Then we went in and it was packed with people of all stripes dancing to strictly mashups/bastard pop, thus the name "Bootie" which is a triple entendre. Mashups are songs created by mixing two or more songs together. The "bootie" label comes from a reference to music "pirates" which is what people who create mashups are considered by the RIAA, and bootie/booty refers to goods acquired by the "criminal" activity of prirates.

And of course, there is a sexual aspect to the term booty -- which was on display in full force during the Pirate contest where many of the scantily clad contestants tore off much of their clothing.

Finally, bootie also relates to the term "bootleg", which is an illegal or unauthorized copy of something. What is hilarious is that the entire club is decked out in Pirate-themed decorations.

It's the new generation's way of saying to the RIAA, and all the other greedy bastards, "Screw you, we want to be creative, and you can't stop us or charge us every time we do!" Note, no one was SELLING music, just giving it away. For all the RIAA rhetoric, at the end of the day, mashups, IMHO opinion, generate revenue for the original artists, more so than if the mashups weren't made. (Again, full circle, Linux is to OSes, what MP3s are to music files).

For more on this, I highly recommend that everyone read Lawrence Lessig's book, Free Culture.

During the evening I met another great mashup artist, DJ John who it turns out uses the same software as I do (Mixmeister - go Aaron!). DJ John gave me one of his CDs and he had some mixes I really really enjoyed.

So, long story short, Eric rocked the house. I think we're cut from the same cloth because when I DJ, I often run out onto the dancefloor because I want to dance! Well, I could tell Eric was having a blast--and if he wasn't suspended 10 feet above the crowd on the DJ platform, I think he would have been in the middle of the crowd as well.

Unfortunately, Matt and his wife had to return home early to relieve the babysitter. Whilst hanging out, I met Adrian, who puts on Bootie. He also provided me with a CD and we talked a little bit about copyright law while the crowd below jumped up to a mashup of Walk This Way and something else.

When I finally headed out, I hopped on my Unicycle and headed to my car. As I approached my car, there was a policeman nearby who looked at me, then drove away. I got the feeling that a cop was unlikely to give me a sobriety test at that point--if I can ride a unicycle, I'm probably OK :-)

BTW, next Bootie is Dec. 9th.

Eat More Fish -- The Wrong Conclucsion

2006-11-03T22:48:00.000-08:00

I was just driving home* when I flipped on the radio to 560 am here in the Bay Area, which is a conservative station, to say the least (it's the one that carries Rush Limbaugh). So, it's not really up my political alley, but I like to check in all fronts to hear the latest rhetoric.

Just as I turned it on, the announcer, who I believe was George Noory, said, "If you like fish, you better eat it while you can, because according to a newly released study, the world's fish supplies will collapse by 2048." Now, this is not an exact quote, it's my best recollection of something I heard about 30 minutes ago. Anyway, he went on to describe how this 53-year study revealed a collapse in almost 30% of the fish species already, and that at present rates the rest will be gone by 2048. He did the report with a serious tone, but then moved on to the next subject.

My issue with the report was that his opening was difficult to decipher -- was it a joke or not? Because, in my humble opinion, many people will not take it as such. They will figure that the collapse of fish is a foregone conclusion, so screw it, they had better eat lots of fish while they can.

Quite frankly, I suspect that such an attitude seems to be more prevalent among "conservatives" -- what a misnomer -- which is, let's enjoy it (whatever the constrained resource "it" is) while we can. Some will delude themselves into thinking that the issue at hand--global warming, deforestation, declining fish--is contrived. I think some are uninformed enough to believe it, but I believe many people in their heart of hearts know better, but are simply too selfish to face the truth because the implication is that if you really care about the next generation, your behavior has to change.

You have to eat LESS (fewer?) fish. You have to drive a smaller vehicle (oh the bullshit reasoning I hear for justifying these monstrosities people drive saddens me). You have to use recyclable batteries. And so on.

So, thank you Mr. Loory for passing on the report, but you need to take a stand too, and say, OK folks, let's cut back on our fish consumption, so our grandkids can enjoy some too. (And you'll also lessen your exposure to mercury as an added bonus!)

End of rant :-)

To read about the report, Click here.

Jim

P.S. *my car has four cylinders; my motorcycle, one cyclinder; my bike, two wheels; my heelys ,one wheel per shoe; and my unicycle, one wheel :-)

Ironies of Google Docs & Spreadsheets ("GDS")

2006-10-19T21:38:00.000-07:00

I have to harp a bit about GDS (Google Docs & Spreadsheets - http://docs.google.com/). Now, don't get me wrong, I love online services. I've been the earliest of early adopters, sometimes to my chagrin*. In fact, when I rode my motorcycle on my first big trip to South America with 4 friends (www.moonride.org) I suggested that we start posting our journal by date (essentially, an early crude blog). On my second big trip, alone across Africa and Europe, my webmaster threw together a system using ColdFusion to allow me to upload photos to my journal entries (refined crude blog -- not sure why WE didn't think to start a blogging company ;-).

Anyway, I love the concept of online spreadsheets and documents. Google's "Spreadsheets" are homegrown, and their "Docs" resulted from the acquisition of Writely. I think Google Spreadsheets is still alpha-ware with all kinds of bugs, but it has reasonable basic functionality. In fairness, the spreadsheet implementation on JotSpot isn't much better. Perhaps, AJAX is not quite up to the task yet.

As for Google Docs, it is pretty darn close to being 1.0, except that it chokes badly on numbered and bulleted outlines -- including even handling fonts within them, and also if you start nesting and de-nesting them -- quite a mess. Hey, I test stuff because I want to be able to rely on it. Doing full-featured outlines, and tracking changes (redlines) is still a dream.

Nevertheless, I love that both Docs and Spreadsheets support exporting to Open Document formats (.odt and .ods) since I'm a big fan of open source, including Open Office (www.openoffice.org)

I'm disappointed in the (lack of) integration, in that the "labels" I have created in GMail are not available in GDS. Also, I cannot attach documents in GDS to a GMail email (yet). Now, no doubt Google is working on these items.

In fact, the other day I met a Google engineer who is the lead of a prominent project (I shan't name him) who said with a whiff of arrogance/condescension that there isn't a feature suggestion that I can think of that hasn't been made by 500 other people internally at Google. He said this in response to me throwing out a few ideas/complaints, including asking if they had thought about having GMail parse Evite invites and plug them into Google calendar. Alas, thinking about it, and doing it, are two different things -- let's hope that the sensibilities of those who are priortizing GDS's features will not be purely market (or weirdly nerd) driven.

Google people are really smart -- but I hope they will be smart about priorities too -- even if not all of them yield market results, but simply out of engineering pride. For example, back to my chagrin* listed above. I have been a longtime user of Yahoo!, yet there are some longstanding shortcomings that to me are downright embarrassing. I've written to them, passed on my notes to friends who work there, etc., to no avail.

Here is a simple, yet painful, example: I (used to) use the Yahoo! Briefcase to store files online. However, if I want to attach a file from my Briefcase to an email, I have to DOWNLOAD the file to my desktop, and then UPLOAD it to my email in Yahoo! No integration! But here is the sad part, it's been like that for OVER 6 YEARS!! Perhaps there were not enough complaints or Briefcase users to make it a priority. But, maybe there weren't more users because unsatisfied people like me were warning people off of Yahoo!

So, while I'm pretty sure (hopeful) that Google won't take so long to make some of the integrations and other improvements, I've decided to blog my issues rather than file them with their "help" system (since 500 people have already thought of my ideas before me anyway). By the way, Writely used to have a nice little feedback button on every page, but no more (same with JotSpot) -- it's a shame.

Actually, I'm going to start blogging all of my software issues, especially regarding those companies that send me mindless, pseudo-AI generated, vapid, unhelpful feedback -- e.g., Native Instruments, maker of Traktor, the kludge from hell that chokes on large music collections and doesn't support multiple soundcards! Just wait until I start blogging about my experience with DJ software over the past 5 years :-)

Oh, so what are the "ironies" to which I refer in the title of this entry?
Well, the first one is really more of an inconsistency than an irony. That is that Google Docs & Spreadsheets has the word "beta" under its logo on the home page, but NOT when you are editing a document, where as the GMail logo consistently shows the word "beta" -- and GMail is far less "betaware" than GDS. I was reminded of this as I was fumbling through a numbered list that didn't want me to change the font, when I looked up at the logo, expecting to see the word "alpha"!, but saw no early-version-software disclaimer of any kind.

The other irony is that there is no SEARCH function in GDS. Yes, you can use the built-in browser search, but this doesn't help with spreadsheets with multiple sheets. Isn't search Google's original mission? Sorry Google, I like you guys too much to give you a pass on this -- you should not be launching even pre-pre-alphaware unless it includes search!

Good night.

Jim Sowers (SpinCycle)

P.S. Now if only Blogger would automatically create hyperlinks when it sees entries like www.spincycle.org in my entries?!

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.5 License.

Passing of a Friend - Carlos Aceituno

2006-09-30T13:11:00.000-07:00

The past week the Bay Area lost one of it's cultural pillars, Carlos Aceituno, who was only 45.

These kinds of comments get tossed around fairly often, and I try not to be a person of hyperbole, but Carlos directly touched more peoples lives in introducing them to drum, dance, capoeira, carnaval/carnival, than any person I know.

Day in, day out; week in, week out; month in, month out; year in, year out -- he taught his classes -- youth and adult; he led his group Fogo Na Roupa \FŌ GŌ Nah HŌP Ah\.

Here are some articles in the local papers about him:
Capoeira master leaves behind rich legacy
Aceituno, Master of Brazilian arts - Mercury News (requires free registration)
Brazilian martial artist, community leader dies
Carlos Aceituno -- samba, capoeira master (San Francisco Chronicle)
Carlos was a friend too. I had DJed at Fogo parties from back in the early days at warehouses, people's homes, anywhere we could find. I remember one year, I think maybe it was 1999, Carlos decided to throw a party on Christmas night at La Pena and he asked me to DJ. I thought there would be nobody there, but per usual, Carlos pulled a crew of people together and celebrated the holiday like we celebrating everything -- dancing and making music.

As I got more heavily into Salsa, Rueda, and African music and dance, I didn't have as much time to attend all the Fogo events, but would when I could. Nevertheless, Carlos was always supportive of my endeavors, especially when I became Carnaval King in 2000.

This year Fogo had a little party at LA Pena Pachamama a cool little Bolivian Restaurant in San Francisco. I went there with my Riddim Brother, Robert Wallace, just to have fun, not intending to DJ and not having any music with me. But after the bataria finished, Carlos pointed me to a stack of CDs and said, "Go DJ My SpinCycle" :-) I could never imagine that it would be my last DJ request from Carlos.

One bit of preachiness here: Remember your teachers; appreciate them; learn as much as you can from them; don't quibble with them--take what they have to offer, and build on it in your own way. Don't assume they'll be there tomorrow, they just may not be.

Axé Carlos,

Jim

Nasty Feet

2006-09-26T01:06:00.000-07:00

I've been pretty lame about posting to my blog. I actually enjoy reading other people's blogs -- it contributes to my already spiraling ADD. (I think the internet has created a pandemic of ADD, esp. Wikipedia's Random Article button, man I love that! Try it: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special:Random )

Anyway, it seems to me fairly obvious that everyone can't read everyone else's blog -- but I've also discovered there are a lot of smart (and dumb) people out there. I decided that I should continue to write, not because I expect a big audience, but because, just like with my SpinCycle music stuff, and my motorcycle adventures around the world, the people that do seek me out based on what I have written or done, are often people with whom I make a genuine connection. I have a friend like that in Vancouver. We've never met in person, but we have become great friends because she is an Indian from Kenya and she read about my motorcycle ride across Africa.

But I digress. Tonight I want to complain about my athletic club, and generally how uptight America is. I have plantar fasciitis, which means my foot hurts like hell. I consulted a doctor and he told me, amongst other things to do some exercises in my bare feet, and referred me to an article on the matter:
http://www.physsportsmed.com/issues/2002/07_02/fields.htm

I went to my gym, Club One and started to go through the routine. It actually felt pretty good. Apparently, walking and exercising in your bare feet is really good for them. Alas, in fairly short order, I was instructed that working out in bare feet was "against the rules". Why? I asked innocently, only to get the most predictable responses:
1. Liability, in case someone dropped a weight on my foot.
2. Disease, I could pick something up from other people's sweat.
3. It's the rule -- this is the only one that came close to making sense.

Let's see -- liability. So, if someone drops a weight on my shoe, there won't be any liability? Or, injury is much more likely with a bare foot -- I don't think so, in fact, I'll hop out of the way quicker if I'm barefoot. Shouldn't we be required to wear gloves then?!

Disease. Give me a break! Is the skin on my feet more porous than on my legs or arms? I'm being exposed to all kinds of nasty sweat on the exercise machines. Then I walk around in a men's shower. Again, if this is really an issue, we should all be wearing body condoms.

It's the rule -- this is the one thing -- and probably the only thing -- most people charged with enforcing rules understand: it's the rule.

Here's the real issue: people are uptight about seeing other people's feet. Admittedly, some people have nasty feet. My feet are not beauty queens, but they're clean and groomed, and really shouldn't send anyone off to the shower.

In any event, I proposed that I work out in my socks. Still a no-go. By then, the rule enforcer had dug in his heels (pardon the pun). By now, sandals, slippers, or clogs were all out -- it was going to take army boots to satisfy this guy.

The funny/ironic thing is that the injury I am trying to address with my barefoot exercises occurred while playing basketball at this same club, WHILE WEARING SHOES. So, does the club consider itself liable for my injury? I assure you it doesn't :-)

In Defense of Zidane

2006-07-13T00:16:00.000-07:00

I've had a little time to digest Zidane headbutt ("coup de boule") situation, and the various responses to and analyses of it. The general consensus seems to be that Zidane made a mistake, that he's human, that no matter what Materazzi said, Zidane's response was wrong.

I disagree.

Moreover, I have heard very little discussion about how far someone is allowed to go in taunting another player verbally. The presumption seems to be that players can and will say anything to provoke their opponents, that it's part of the game, and that a physical response to a non-physical verbal assault is always wrong. The Gandhi-respecting pacifist in me wants to agree with the latter part, about not responding with violence. But, I disagree with the first part, i.e., that a player can say anything to you.

The problem is, in this case we had a French-Algerian being taunted by an Italian. But I'll tell you what, if we had a French-African being taunted with racial slurs, or if we had an African-American on the receiving end of the N-word, or if someone said something about Tiger Woods' father (God rest his soul)--if there was a physical response to those situations, a LOT more people would be saying it was justified, understandable, etc. etc.

I think that every culture has it's set of taboos, those subjects or words that are "fightin' words" and are uttered at one's peril. In Zidane's case, according to him, Materazzi (who has a well-known reputation for his foul mouth and foul play--a quick look on YouTube.com will bear this out) made comments about Zidane's mother and sister too offensive to repeat.

I liked that Zidane apologized to the children watching, but refused to say that he regretted it, or that he wouldn't do it again in the same situation.

Quite honestly, I respect the message that his act sent out, which, as I read it, is this: there are certain things that you cannot say to me with impunity -- even if I risk being thrown out of the World Cup, I will not allow you to cross a certain line. And I'll bet that Mr. Materazzi will think twice before he utters similar comments to the next player.

For me, it would be unjust to strip Zidane of his Best Player of the World Cup award without knowing what was said to him by Materazzi. Otherwise, we cannot have a sense of how reasonable/unreasonable it was for him to have reacted as he did, or at least to verify that there was a provocation and some guilt to be shared.

Sierra Nevada "World" Music Festival, World Cup notes, and DANCE VIDEOS

2006-06-30T20:52:00.000-07:00

SNWMF

Went to the Sierra Nevada World Music Festival last weekend which is a bit of a misnomer since it is neither in the Sierra Nevadas (although it used to be) and it is really a reggae festival and a roots reggae festival at that. Yes, they did have an African night at which Baaba Maal headlined. Then there is a small "village" stage with some lesser-known and/or unknown local groups. The few "fusion" groups and/or local Mendicino bands, with all due respect, do not a World Music festival make.

Don't get me wrong -- there was a lot of great music. I especially liked Culture, Fantan Mojah, and Cocoa Tea. Yet, the vast majority of live music, all of the DJ music--both tent and filler between acts, and the vibe of event and the attendees was all about reggae reggae reggae. (I do want to give respect to the DJ, Rankin' Roger, who I had't seen in a while and put on some nice mixes.) There were plenty of Bobo, 12 Tribes, and Nyabinghi in attendance as well (if I've lost you, read about the Mansions of the Rastafari).

Old SpinCycle gets ansy after three days of any one genre -- musical variety is the spice of my life. I need my Soca, some hard-core Salsa, some Samba, some Soukous--the overload of dub & culture left me aching to change it up.

Nevertheless, I had a great time, hanging out with new friends and old -- the Jahworks.org crew (Laura, Monica, Justine, Maimon), Rhythmwize (John and Emily from L.A.), and my old friend Corbett H. Bowers of Club Dread and Reggae Review fame.

Took my Burning man pyschedelic hula hoop with me which was a huge hit (sample video http://www.psihoops.com/video/mpg_med_a_df.mpg no, it's not me, and I'm not that good! Thanks to Patrick Deluz of PSIHoops) as was my sound-activated EL wire (red, gold, and green of course!) from www.CoolNeon.com -- I really need to be on commission with all my toys! And yes, the infamous Adidas Red & Yellow shoes (see my earlier posts)

We had a great house that we rented about 15 miles from the festival -- a remote sea of tranquility from the volume, heat, and body odor of the festival. I settled into the couch on Sunday night after it was all (supposedly) over, sipping a beer and winding down when around 1am, Monica shows up with three members of the featured Jamaican band Live Wyya (which backed the top acts at the show, and is a top band in their own right.)

So, I start DJing for the band--basically throwing on the SpinCycle mix. I played my usual mix of stuff from all over -- I figured they didn't want to hear more reggae and/or they know that music better than I do anyway. So, when I threw on a salsa tune, two of the band members (Neil and Colgate) got completely excited and started jumping around saying how they want to learn salsa.

Next thing I know, I am teaching a salsa class to Neil, Colgate, Monica, and Justine. The women faded after about 30 minutes, but the guys were so excited about the lessons (and were really picking it up) that we stayed up until 5am (with Tristan--keyboard player--sleeping on the couch). Then, Colgate wanted Samba lessons, but the sun was coming up, and I was ready to sleep.

There is nothing so gratifying as opening up a new world to someone through teaching, particularly something like dancing that they have struggled with, and when they get it, it will be a source of joy for the rest of their lives.

Brazil v. Ghana

Got home on Monday, and the next morning I went over to the apartment of a Ghanaian friend to watch Brazil v. Ghana in the round of 16 World Cup match. I'm not against Brazil -- in fact, I know many people genuinely love the Brazilian team for the sheer beauty of their style of play.
Nevertheless, if you watched that game, most will admit that Brazil did not play their best Joga Bonito (in fact many Brazilians were quite upset with their team's play). Ghana played a helluva game -- far better than reflected in the score (even this American knows offsides when he sees it ;-)

Still, the Brazilians are a great team, have great strikers, and deserved their win. Now, as for the Ghanaian crowd I was hanging with, they were none too pleased with any of it. There were some words being shouted at the television which I did not understand literally, but the tone with which they were spoken made their meaning understood no matter what one's mother tongue happens to be.

Ironically, there was a halftime report about racism in football, and some of the Ghanaians felt that they were on the receiving end of such treatment as an African team. "But, the Brazilians have Black and mixed players," I decried. "Yes, but FIFA does not want Brazil to lose--they are too important to the sport. Africans are always treated the worst." Personally, I don't buy the league-controls-the-outcome theory -- be it FIFA or NBA or whatever (except of course for the WWF).

The irony of ironies was that, after Ghana lost, a couple of them told me they were now pulling for Brazil. "Why?!" I asked. "Because we don't want a European team to win!"

It struck me that that could be considered a "racist" approach to sports, but then again, I was rooting for all the African teams + Trinidad & Tobago. (Why is it OK for me as a White man to root for all the Black teams, or is it? Perhaps, I'm a self-hater?!) Still, if a White guy were to say, I don't want to see an African team win, how would it be perceived? Is it the same as an African saying he doesn't want to see a European team win? Some would say yes, others would say it's different and be able to justify it based on a history of oppression, etc. What do you think?

Football Videos

Anyway, I have discovered the real secret to Brazil's success. Click the link to see a video showing it:
http://media.putfile.com/Brasil-9

Here's another one with Italy's training techniques (probably part of every soccer team's training):
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oW43iQa9n24&search=italian%20training%20

Dance Videos

I've been saying for a long time that I would like to make videos of the various dance styles I've learned over the years, but now, I don't need to--they're out there, so I will just pass you the links. Some of these are wild!

Straight up Soukous/Ndombolo, you may want to watch this until the end, the woman start to bust some great moves: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=06ifhQJTI-0

Another Soukous video, this one with some shots from a big concert:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=szgSXR_V7YQ

Soukous practice -- it isn't just White kids who dance around in their bedrooms practicing their moves :-)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GjF5Z05dhBU

Of course we must have a little Soca wining:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zOpr_8wtctI
phttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ykIhZuugBo - this one is from a concert so the music is very distorted

A nice Arabic + African mix: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=quWio-AytQw --

And last but not least, a sample of Kwaito from South Africa by Mandoza
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3RmDuAMImNY

Good luck to you all, whatever team you happen to be cheering.

Peace,

Jim (SpinCycle)

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Ghana Gana! (Spanish for Ghana Wins!)

2006-06-22T13:05:00.000-07:00

Today, Ghana beat US in a World Cup match 2-1. Let me start off by saying that some interpretted my earlier post to indicate that I preferred Ghana to win over the U.S. That was not the case, and in fact, as I watched the game, I found myself being a much more aggressive US fan than I anticipated, particularly as they announced that the Italians were beating the Czech Republic -- which meant if the US won against Ghana, the US would advance to the round of 16.

Being the born-on-the-5th-of-July, boy from Poland, Ohio that I am, I cannot help but cheer wholeheartedly for my homeland. By the way, I'm not the type to harp about the call by a referee (or umpire or whatever the heck the official is called), but I was dismayed by the penalty that led to Ghana's second goal. It just seemed pretty tight to me. And I would say generally, the ref had a hair trigger for pulling out the yellow card on both teams, which only exacerbates the ridiculous theatrics of the players. I imagine them, prior to a game, looking in the mirror and making feigned expressions of pain and anguish. Give me a break!

Anyway, the U.S. had it's chances but failed to capitalize. And Ghana played strong and deserves to advance. I have to say, having so many Ghanaian friends locally, that I share in their joy, and in all of Africa's, over the advancement of their team. It would be one of the greatest upsets in football history for Ghana to defeat Brazil, and much as I love Brazilian music, and culture, and their style of football, I would love to see Ghana win that game!

The cool thing is, I already have the right shoes (see my Haiti! post)!

Ghana Gana!

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SpinCycle on Football (Soccer) as in Copa Mundial

2006-06-20T01:20:00.000-07:00

OK, my turn to chime in on the copa mundial. No, I'm not rooting for Brazil. There I said it. It seems to me everyone I know who has been to Brazil, who owns a Brazilian CD, knows a Brazilian, or can find Rio on a map is rooting for Brazil. I guess everyone wants to be associated with what is the surest bet to be the winner.

Well, I like underdogs. I'm rooting for Trinidad & Tobago! Not just because they are from the smallest country, not just because I love their music, not just because I have been to TnT 10 times and performed in Soca Monarch Finals and Panorama, and not just because their Carnival is every bit as good as any event in the world -- but those are all good reasons :-)

I mean, you have got to love the energy engendered by the SOCA WARRIORS!
See: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5jHSwvTGdDc

I'm also pulling for every African team in the event: Togo, Angola, Ghana, Ivory Coast, and Tunisia (yes, Tunisia is part of Africa -- see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Africa/North_Africa). In fact, I even went to the trouble of putting together a schedule with all the games of the African teams and TnT highlighted (http://www.spincycle.org/WorldCupSchedule-PDT.html) -- sorry for not sending this out sooner. (Note the times are West Coast -- I'm so tired of everything being GMT or East Coast time, we probably have more soccer/football fans out here!)

Luckily for me, I moved to California from Ohio when I was 14. I knew nothing of soccer at the time, but both my brothers played AYSO soccer and I went to all of their games, so I learned the rules. (My brother Tim kicked the winning goal in the CIF championship in high school!) Having some familiarity with the game has served me well over the years.

In college, I took a gym class and played soccer where I met students from Bangladesh, Central African Republic, United Arabic Emirates, and Thailand. (I attended college at Cal Poly, Pomona) We had our own little world cup right there, and I quickly learned how international this game really was.

When I was travelling in Africa, I took a train to Wadi Halfa, Sudan -- it was supposed to take 20 hours, instead it took 54 hours. There was a ferry waiting to take us to Egypt, but half of us were turned away, which meant we had to wait a WEEK in Wadi Halfa. So what did we do? We played soccer with the locals. They were quite pleased to have a new crop of players. I'll never forget one of the local boys, a tall dark boy of about 15 with only one arm. Yet, he was an incredible player, and always smiling. They ran us, the visiting team of train holderovers, ragged completely ragged.

After the first day we played, I could not walk; I seriously could not walk--my muscles got so tight. After sitting still for nearly 3 days, and being fairly dehydrated, the logical next move was not to play several hours of soccer in the Nubian desert. But what a great memory to have and story to be able to tell.

Back to World Cup. So, only 1 African team has won a game thus far, Ghana. I was so happy for them, but now the dilemma -- their next game is against the U.S. Who am I rooting for you ask? I am rooting for whichever team will be able to advance to the playoffs. Thus, if Ghana beats the U.S. and is able to move on to the quarter finals--more power to them--and vice versa! The worst outcome for me, would be to have the game result in neither Ghana nor the U.S. advancing to the next round.

Honestly, I've never been too big on the whole nation pride/patriotism thing. I always take pause when I read an article or see a TV show in which they speak about this group or that being a "proud people"--be it Italians or Inuits, Czechs or Kikuyu, Albanians or Amhara. Doesn't every culture have pride? And probably nearly as many people are proud of their "country", although there may be more exceptions on that front, depending on the country.

For me, the "nation" that I am associated with is a matter of chance. I was born in the U.S. but through no fault of my own. I care about "my country" in that it represents certain principles, while not always achieved, which to me are certainly worth aspiring towards. But I really "love" my country simply because it has a lot of people that I love living here. But from that perspective, I love Trinidad & Tobago, and Kenya, and Cuba, and France, and on and on and on. And to be a bit of a Buddhist about it, I love every country that has human beings living in it (although I could imagine a country with no humans might offer a certain kind of tranquil bliss as well :-)

So, I imagine a World Cup in which the particpants are not nations, but simply the best players from all over the world. And then a random drawing is conducted to select the teams. People could still root for players from "their country" on an individual basis, but they could also see teams made up of people from all over the world (sort of the way the European football teams are now!). (And of course, I'm sure there is a way to have online gambling on the teams such that anybody could get fired up for any given team). OK, I'm too tired to take this hypothetical further.

Just some food for thought -- don't take this nation stuff too seriously. At least for now, we're all on the same, slowly warming, orb.

Peace,

Jimbo (SpinCycle)

P.S. Shameless Promotion, I put a few songs together for the World Cup
http://profile.calabashmusic.com/world/spincycle

As did my colleague, Erich:
http://profile.calabashmusic.com/world/erich_ludwig

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Carnival/Carnaval Weekend in San Francisco

2006-05-26T19:01:00.000-07:00

Greetings Friends!

Carnival/Carnaval in San Francisco has arrived! If ever there was a time that I wish I could clone myself, now is it! There are so many events happening this weekend, aside from the Parade which is down Mission street on Sunday morning, that I can only list a few. (As for me, much as I wanted to enter the Calypso Competition, I will be attending a fundraising event for a Ghanaian friend who passed away completely unexpectedly—some details are below).

Notes: Some people complain to me about using this list for non-SpinCycle events, others complain that I don't send out enough event notices, others want to hear my adventures, still others are tired of hearing my prattle on. The upshot is: it is what it is—occasional events which may or may not include me, occasional stories, etc. I don't have a lot of spare time these days, so the good news is, you don't get too many SpinCycle emails, so you might as well read them :-)

In the future, if you want me to announce an event, please send me a simple link (rather than a big email, or flyer) to a webpage containing your event's details. That substantially increases the chances that it will go out in a SpinCycle email :-)

1st Vintage Calypso Competition

Caribbean Showcase on Saturday, May 27, 2006 when calypso and chutney soca takes center stage, 525 Harrison Street, San Francisco Advance $20, Door $30

looking for contestants to enter the 1st Vintage Calypso Competition -21 and over, sing 3 verses of any calypso recorded prior to 1990, one verse must comprise self-composed lyrics.

Guest performers from Trinidad and Tobago premiere calypso tent, DIVAS International and of course the big band chutney soca sound of jmc3veni and more surprise guest artists

MasMakers 510-534-6331 or ticketweb.com ($5 surcharge)
Calypso is " we ting" so come out and help this legacy grow as part of Carnival on these shores

Sila and the Afrofunk Experience

Celebrate The Struggle!

“Life has meaning only in the struggle. Triumph or defeat is in the hands of the Gods. So let us celebrate the struggle.”(Kenyan Proverb)

Embrace Kenyan wisdom and join us in celebrating life’s struggle at The Great American Music Hall on Saturday, May 27that our CD release concert. This concert commensurate the release of our album the Funkiest Man in Africa,” a debut with my band - Sila and the Afrofunk Experience. The album is a call for global justice, for hope, for love, and for everyone to take responsibility of the world’s problems.

When:Saturday, May 27th, Doors 8PM, Show 9PM
Where:The Great American Music Hall
859 O’Farrell Street
San Francisco, CA
Tickets:Only $13 For tickets call the box office at 415-885-0750

Shameless plug--Sila's new album is available on CalabashMusic.com!
http://sila.calabashmusic.com/

Cuica Y Clave ‘06

“Carnival Spectacular” - Saturday May 27^th, 2006 @ Club Anton 428 3^rd street @ Broadway/ Downtown Oakland 510.428.0165 /www.clubanton.com

Featuring Afro Cuban Salsa w/ Fito Reynoso & Ritmo Y Armonia - Funky Brasilian Bateria LOCO BLOCO and DJ Walt Digz spinnin’ Latin and Caribbean party music! Also special performances by Carnaval SF King Luis and Queen Monique.

Doors open @ 8pm/ Salsa and Samba Dance Lessons/ 21 ID/ Drink Specials/ $10 Advance/ FREE: Salsa lessons = Ernesto & Humu & Samba lessons = Raffaella

Cucia Y Clave is an annual Carnival event held in honor of the King & Queen of Carnaval SF. 2006 marks the 5 anniversary of Cuica Y Clave Carnival Spectacular. Celebrate like you were in Bahia, Rio, Havana, Barranquilla or Port of Spain. Viva Carnaval!!!

Passing of Kojo Osei-Boateng

Emmanuel Kojo Osei-Boateng passed away unexpectedly and the Ghanaian Youth of the Bay Area and his friends and family members invite you to attend a fundraising to assist the family:

Traditional Funeral Service/Reception: Saturday May 27th 2006

Time: 4:00pm-10:00pm
Location: Sante Fe Elementary School
915 54th Street
Oakland, Ca 94608

Passing of Kip Farris

Another loss to the Carnival community was the passing of master float builder Kip Farris

To learn more: http://web.mac.com/jabbo1st

His friends Louise and Jud have organized a contigent in his honor this year callled “Angels and Demons at Play”. We will be celebrating in his spirit and honor (and SpinCycle will be playing tunes on the float ;-) Check us out, we're #65 in this year's parade!

Shouts:

To Rhythmwize for sending me the latest music from St. Kitts-Nevis Carnival!

To the graduates: Nicki Alexiev (Masters!), Nii Oblie, and Erika Goncalves (the Bulgarian, the Ghanaian, and the Brazilian :-)

To my Riddim Bruddah, Bobby Wallace (www.totalrhythm.com)

To ALL of my Carnavalesco friends!

For Fun:
Wife kills husband after he complains her butt is too small

http://nydailynews.com/front/story/327378p-279820c.html

Happy Happy Carnival!

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Highs and Lows from Sandy Eggo

2006-03-02T03:05:00.000-08:00

Greetings Friends,

I'm writing to you from San Diego, where I am spending a few days with my family after the passing of my Grandma -- Kay Sallas, who lived to be just shy of 90. (Technically, my Mom is really my aunt, who adopted me when I was 14. Nevertheless, she has been like a mother to me, and her mom, Kay, was like a grandmother to me). As I sit and type this on my laptop, my Mom's computer is adjacent to me, and the screen saver is scrolling through old photos of my Grandmother and our family. Screen savers that randomly pull up photos, like iTunes with its random shuffle of the music library, can completely surpise you with moments (or music) that you have forgotten and which bring back a flood of memories and emotions.

My grandmother's passing has made me reflect a bit on where I am in my own life, what is important, and ultimately what imprint I will leave on our spinning globe. I love my family; I treasure my friends; and to be honest, I'm happiest at a house party with a bunch of people jumping up and down to SpinCycle DJing :-) Sooner or later, there is another major road trip with SpinCycle making friends and DJing across the world that will have to happen!

In the meantime, I need to throw a few random things your way.

1. Carnival!

Being in America during this time of year is tough! I'm usually in Trinidad, or sometimes Brazil -- like last year. It has been 4 years since I've been to Trinidad--which, I still consider a second home, and in which I have a second family, the Steuarts from Woodbrook. Ironically, my Riddim Brother, Robert "Bobby" Wallace came to see me this past Saturday night--as it was Carnival Sat. and we had spent so many years together in Trinidad for Carnival. I busted out some old videos of him and me, playing Mas, covered in paint and mud, and playing with our band Starlift -- led be Ray Holman.

I love Trinidad, and have been there 10 times, but Bob named one of his daughters Libery "Calypso", and the other "Trinity" Salem -- so dat is a raaaayl Trini to de Bone.

Bobby went down in 1996 and decided he was going to play in a steel band. And when that man puts his mind to doing something -- stand back! He joined Starlift and played the six-bass! The next year, he got me to come along, and I joined the band playing in the "engine room" with my shekere.

Steel bands, are mostly Trinidadian, and mostly Afro-Trinidadian. There is the usual smattering of Europeans and Americans that join a band playing the tenor or double-tenor--which are considered more "melodic". But it is quite rare to see whiteys like Bob and me playing six bass or in the engine room, which are part of the "rhythmic" heart of the band. Thus, Bob and I were both quite proud to have gained acceptance into the upper echelon of the riddim world!

We had played several years with Starlift, but both of us had to sit Carnival out this year. BUT, Starlift had its best finish since the 1970s in Panorama (the steel pan championship) -- they came in THIRD!!! Also: Some Starlift Photos

There really is no substitute for seeing a 100+ steel band live, but I will post some video clips on my website in the future.

Included are two photos of Bobby and me doing "the Carnival pose" just before competing in Panorama during two different years. One of the pictures is blurry, because the guy taking it had been drinking rum. The other picture came out clear, which makes it obvious that I had been drinking rum!!

2. Black History Month

What was really interesting was that this year, the end of Carnival, know as Fat Tuesday for Mardi Gras, coincided with the end of the month--Black History Month. A kind of irony, that an event probably celebrated by more of the African Diaspora than anyone else--Brazilians, Trinidadians, New Orleansians--ended at the same time as the month we celebrate Black History, particularly given the Katrina disaster in which it became obvious the disparity in which we continue to treat people in our society.

So here's a little trivia question that virtually none of my friends, Black or otherwise, ever get right.

In which sport was there a first-ever recognized Black world champion?

The answer is NOT: boxing, or sprinting. The anwer is ...

...

..Bicycling!

For more read: Major Taylor : The Extraordinary Career of a Champion Bicycle Racer. And yes, I have signed up for the Amazon Associates program, so if you buy the book -- I get a little commission, nuttin' wrong with that :-)

Peace to you all. Give you someone near you a hug, forgive someone who has wronged you, add to the positive in this world, G*D knows we have enough negative already.

Respect,

Jim (SpinCycle)

P.S. Stay tuned -- Looks like I'm playing in the city next Friday. And Ras Nii and Kofi the X Man are hooking up with Omar to throw an African party celebrating Ghana Independence on Mar. 18 -- details will follow!

Bizarre Story

2006-02-17T22:34:00.000-08:00

I don't even know where to start on this one. I have been leading a fairly crazy life for the past few months, actually my entire life has been somewhat crazy, but the past few months have been frenetic.

I have been working with an online music company, CalabashMusic.com, while doing some part-time legal work to help pay the bills. On the legal front, I work for a friend who was a classmate of mine at Hastings College of the Law.

He is Syrian from the Golan Heights, which has been part of Israel since 1967. His practice consists primarily of traffic cases, minor criminal matters, and DUI cases. Most of his clients are foreign born, and he has cases all over the bay area. In working with him, I have appeared in court in Marin, Hayward, Fremont, Pleasanton, Berkeley, San Jose, Palo Alto, South San Francisco, Redwood City, Tahoe, and Walnut Creek--and all within the past 4 months!

Well, this past Thursday I had to attend court in Walnut Creek, my first time in that particular courthouse. Just like the airports, courthouses now have everyone pass through a metal detector and run your bags through one as well. The guard ran my briefcase/backpack through several times. (See photo at right).

There was some item he was seeing that caused him concern. Now mind you, this is a bag I have travelled with on serveral trips in the U.S. as well as to Spain and the U.K. I have also entered numerous courthouses with this bag. At one security checkpoint in the U.S., there seemed to be a problem, but they decided it was my power supply for my computer.

In any event, the security guard at the Walnut Creek, California courthouse had identified something, and had me go through the bag with him. We kept emptying more and more stuff and re-scanning the bag, until we discovered that there was some kind of scissors SEWN INTO THE PADDING OF THE BAG!
That's right, and the only explanation I have is that these scissors were used at the factory where the bag was made and were inadvertantly sewn into the bag, like a surgeon accidentally sewing up a patient with a scalpel inside the body.

You can see in the picture on the left, that these scissors are about four inches long and have a rather nasty look to them.

At the time, I was not able to remove the scissors. The guard realized that they were sewn into the bag and could tell I was sincerely surprised. While I was shocked at the discovery, I must say I was really impressed with how thorough this guard was in discovering what had passed by so many many other security checkpoints. And, I was sure relieved that it happened here and not in the airport.

Can you imagine me trying to explain to airport security that these scissors in my bag had been somehow sewn in it at the factory. Do you think they would have believed me? Worse yet, can you imagine me boarding an international flight, with my passport with entries from my visit to Sudan and Egypt?!

The lesson for me, and hopefully for any of you reading this, was not just how slipshod airport security continues to be to this day. But also, that sometimes very improbable explanations are true.

As you can see below, I was able to remove the scissors by cutting into the padded section of my bag and removing them. Thus, the next time you buy a bag, you might want to run it through a metal detector BEFORE you go to the airport.

jim

Winter Olympics 2006, etc.

2006-02-13T10:57:00.000-08:00

My friends George (Yury) and Susanne invited me to a party at their place to watch the opening ceremonies of the winter olympics. Susanne is an olympics fanatic. I didn't want to pee on their parade, but I did send Yury an interesting article about the non-inclusiveness of the winter games: Where the Rich and Elite Meet to Compete, By Paul Farhi

It was a dress-up party, however, only the hosts and I dressed up. In my effort to represent the underrepresented, and because I'm steeped in African/Caribbean culture -- I showed up in fully-themed in Red-Yellow-Green -- think Rasta, Jamaican Bobsled team! I had my Afro-Caribbean shoes, headband, scarf from Ethiopia, and my latest addition, really awesome arm warmers which were a very special gift to me from Rachel. (I'll post a photo of me in full regalia when I get a chance).

Needless to say, aside from adlibbing incessantly at the over-the-top ceremony, I was counting African nations. I counted six: Egypt, Senegal, South Africa, Madagascar, Kenya, and ?? Libya, I think. Did I miss anybody?

Enough on that. My house was on the news, but for the wrong reasons. My upstairs neighbor and friend was robbed at gunpoint. Apparently, a group of 6 men co-ordinated 6 robberies in Oakland at the same time, so as to overwhelm the police's ability to respond. All that intelligence and energy misdirected. I dare say, we probably failed these men when they were children.

Peace,

jim

Greetings from Kigali, Rwanda! (email to moonride list)

2006-02-08T23:24:00.000-08:00

Hi Friends,

Just arrived in Kigali, the capital of Rwanda. Incredible ride through the misty mountains lined with banana trees overlooking tea plantations.

Great road, but the usual hazards of dogs, cattle, goats, trucks, and kids. People are a little more reserved than in Uganda, but very curious. There are few tourists in Africa, and very few on motorcycle.

For the first time in over 2 months, I'm driving on the right side of the road again--and the weird thing is, it is strange to me now to be on that side. And the newest challenge -- France meets England -- right-handed roundabouts!

They speak French here, but that is everyone's second language as is English in East Africa. Only plan to be here a couple of days, but had to check it out. I have a long story written about a major bike breakdown, but have yet to get into the computer.

Also, in touring town (that is, I was lost), I found a Save the Children center here as well.

A local guy, Alex Nyangabyaki, who works for the U.S. Embassy has shown me around.

Today is a public holiday celebrating 100 years of Christianity in Rwanda.

Warm Regards,

Jim

A Nice Day for a Protest

2006-02-01T11:17:00.000-08:00

I had to come to Washington D.C. on very short notice for business. I took a red-eye -- and it truly was a red-eye for me. As I was packing I thought about the cold weather, and the fact that it was the beginning of Black History Month, so I grabbed my bright green-yellow-red Ethiopian scarf.

When I arrived in DC I headed to a Starbuck's at 7th & Indiana, just down the courthouse where my classmate, Leutrell Michael Carlton Osborne, II is an Assistant U.S. Attorney, and his uncle, Thomas Motley, is a judge. So, I need to be have, or the whole family will process me into jail.

Anyway, I'm sitting in Starbuck's and I see some Ethiopians, and say hello. They spot my scarf and ask if I am going to the protest march. I didn't know anything about the march--but I was aware of the underlying activities in Ethiopia that would justify a march.. Long story short, I wound up marching with thousands of Ethiopians to protest the jailing many members of the opposition party after they were duly elected, and the U.S.'s failure to act and/or affirmative support of a party and an election that has been harshly criticized by neutral election observers.

Anyway, I love America, and the right to assemble. And it seems some of the newest members of our society treasure it the most, because they don't take it for granted. Ironically, one this first day of Black History Month, in a city of 80% African/African-Americans, many people did not know what the march was about, and in fact thought the marchers were Jamaican.

Haiti!

2006-01-16T22:21:00.000-08:00

Greetings Friends!

Happy Birthday to Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. There is a tie in here to Haiti.

Shamless Promotion: At the end of this story, yes, I am going to recommend some music for you to buy. If you want to skip my long story and just go buy some great Haitian music from a classic artist named Dadou Pasquet, click here.

So, no, I'm not in Haiti, I'm in Boston working away on turning one of my passions into a full-time thing -- music (and dance) of course -- in my role as Chief Rhythm Officer of CalabashMusic. As you should know, Calabash sells music from all over the place--great music that you won't find on iTunes for a variety of reasons.

Anyway, after brainstorming, planning, strategizing, and swapping music selections with the Calabash team, I headed out salsa dancing in Boston -- at Harvard Square. And some of the squares at Harvard can dance (couldn't resist that pun). They had agood DJ (not a Tony O or Walt Digz mind you, but he had a nice mix, even a little Timba).

So, now to the Haiti part. My cab driver from the salsa club was Haitian. I mentioned that I knew some of the groups, and boom, he slaps in a CD mix of his own making with the latest greatest stuff. (Proudly, I recognized that I had a few tunes in my collection already).

He was thrilled that I was into the music and told me that I MUST go to the Roxy the next night in downtown Boston (on Tremont Street). He said it went from 8-2am and had live Haitian bands. In all my travels, I've had very few opportunities to see live Haitian acts, and had never been to an event with a large, Haitian crowd.

It's late, so I'm going to cut this short. I worked all day Sunday, and that night I showed up (via walking, bus, subway) to the Roxy in sweats, with my trademark Afro-shoes -- one red, one yellow. I stroll in at about 9:45 and the bouncer says, "Sir we have dress code", staring at my shoes.

"Oh, I'm here for the Haitian night", I say thinking/hoping that I was at the wrong place, and that I was not terribly underdressed. Well, yes and no. I was at the wrong place -- the club was downstairs; but, yes, I would later figure out, I was terribly underdressed.

I arrived into a big, loud, glittery, loud, empty, loud nightclub. Did I mention loud? There was nobody there, just the sound guys! The good news was that I was so early, I got in without paying the cover, and with my less-than-optimal clothes. Haitians dress nice when they go out, as do Africans. Come to think of it, most people do--I guess I'm a slouch--I like to dress casual, because I always wind up dancing and jumping around getting all sweaty.

Anyway, I introduced myself to one of the sound guys and we talk for a minute and he says, "You're not from Boston are you?"

"No, can you tell because of my accent?", I ask.

"No", he says, "it's because people in Boston aren't very friendly." First, let me say, no offense to Bostonians! They're great people, but I'll admit, they're a little harder to get to know. There is definitely a different vibe here that you don't just go making friends with the same ease that we seem to in California where I live. I think it may be because Californians are a bunch of transplants--so they're constantly moving, making new friends, etc.

People trickled into the club, little by little. I met a Puerto Rican guy who was with friends from Angola and Mozambique--so I tried out my rusty Portuguese on them. Since none of us were from Boston, we became fast friends :-) By 11:30 the club was PACKED -- 300-400 people. The sound system was as loud as anything I've heard in Trinidad -- and that's saying something.

The music was pumping, Konpa (or Kompa or Compa) from Haiti, Zouk from Cape Verde, Zouk from Martinique and Guadaloupe, and the occasional Soukous from the DRC (Democratic Republic of the Congo -- Kinshasha).

I was soon on the dancefloor (earplugs in place) getting instructions on the step from a woman named Geraldine. Unfortunately, she was too good. Because I had the basic step, she quickly progressed to very advanced steps that left her frustrated with her only-white-guy-in-the-club, mis-matched shoe-wearing, underdressed, Haitian wannabe. Well, the lesson was fun while it lasted. My newfound Boriqua and African friends soon had me dancing with some of their newfound Haitian friends, and I thought about how blessed I am.

After the second act, the DJ took us on a rather interesting musical tour that went places I might not even go with this crowd, from zouk to reggae to soca to..are you ready? ...the Eurythmics' song Sweet Dreams, and it seemed to work!

As the hour of midnight passed and we entered the official holiday celebrating Dr. King's birth, I also reflected about him, as I danced in this room full of Haitians in the city of Boston, this revolutionary city. Dr. King was the continuation of a long line in the battle for equality and justice, which included François-Dominique Toussaint L'Ouverture, who led Haiti's revolution for independence from France, the first Caribbean island to throw off the yoke of its colonizer. And thus, it was a perfect day and place for me to be expanding my musical horizons.

Now, if you would like to expand your musical horizons, check out Dadou Pasquet, by clicking this link. (FYI, we will be making significant improvements to the site and the buying process soon).

Thanks for your support!

Jim (SpinCycle)
Chief Rhythm Officer

Tags: konpa, kompa, compa, zouk, Haiti, Dadou Pasquet, SpinCycle

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Christmas Eve 2005 - Ghana Party!

2005-12-25T13:41:00.000-08:00

I spent Christmas Eve at Hollywood Park Casino in L.A. at a big African Xmas Ball-- featuring artists from Ghana -- Ofori Amponsali & Nana Quame. And from there it was off to an after party with a Ghanaian crew. I wound up DJing, eating spicy hot fish, and watching the sunrise on Christmas morn :-)

Your Support Makes a Difference!

2001-06-01T22:28:00.000-07:00

SC Office in Sudan!

Dear Friends,

The Very Short Version

------------------------------

I gave you free entertainment. Now it's your turn. Please go to

http://www.savethechildren.org

http://www.cancer.org

and donate money!

THANK YOU!

The Very Long Version

------------------------------

Many of you have followed the Moonriders since the first trip across South America. Others of you have joined the adventures during the Africa trip.

When we first started Riding to the Moon we decided we wanted to discover new places, and we wanted something positive to come from it as well.

In our ride across the Americas, we choose Save the Children (SC), and the American Cancer Society(ACS) as designated organizations that we wanted to support.

We choose SC because they had a good reputation for their work -- and they were working in many of the countries we would be visiting. We wanted to do something for the places we were discovering. We were able to visit centers in both Nicaragua and Bolivia and to see first-hand the children whose lives were being positively affected by SC.

We choose ACS for a more personal reason. One of our riders, David Baumgarten, had battled testicular cancer, and after surgeries and chemotherapy, he survived and continues to lead a full, productive life. (David visited cancer patients at several places on that trip as well.)

Cancer touches so many people and the programs funded by the ACS reap benefits for Americans, but also for cancer victims around the world. Even while on this trip, I learned that the wonderful woman in South Africa who handled clearing my bike through customs has just been diagnosed with cancer and has begun chemo treatments.

So we tend to think that the work both the ACS and SC has a global impact.

On our last trip, we closed many of our journal entries by urging people to donate to SC or the ACS. This time I decided to save it until the end. You've been with me on the emotional highs and lows, the dancing in Nairobi, the Nubian train ride, the mosquitoes of Mozambique!

And I've had a great adventure. But along the way, I reminded myself of how lucky I am. That at any time, I could pack it up and head home to a cozy environment surrounded by loving family and friends.

Not so for so many children here.

I have visited Save the Children offices in Xai Xai, Mozambique; Addis Ababa, Ethiopia; Khartoum, Sudan; and Cairo, Egypt. I continued to be impressed by the people running the offices, and their focus on spending their funds to benefit the most children in the best way possible.

I spent this week in the Cairo office where I was taken on a field trip to the Waraq neighborhood to see how the "micro-finance" program works and who benefits. It was awesome.

To put it mildly, Waraq is a very poor neighborhood. Yet there are people who are eager to be productive, to do business, but do not have the funds to get started. The micro-finance programs basically make very small, 4-month loans to women who want to start/expand a business. Women are targeted because helping women become financially independent directly benefits their children.

The women are organized into groups of 10-15. So that have a team spirit, and some peer pressure about repaying their loans. Loan re-payment begins 2-weeks after the initial loan. After each loan, they may qualify for a bigger loan, eventually up to $750.

This program has made something like 12,000 loans. 4,000 have been repaid -- the other 8,000 are current. They have a 100% repayment rate -- yes, 100%.

This is just one example of the types of work being done by Save the Children. You can learn more on their website, www.savethechildren.org, which has been significantly improved since I left on the Africa trip.

So, now is the time when I ask you to please support Save the Children or the American Cancer Society. I have not talked much about ACS because I think almost everyone has someone close to them who has been touched by cancer--so I don't need to make a big pitch on that front. In addition, David Baumgarten continues to do work to support the ACS.

Because of what I have seen on this ride, the Save the Children organization has taken on special meaning for me. So, I encourage you to visit their website, www.savethechildren.org, learn more about them, and then support them with a donation, or better yet, as a sponsor.

Or if you prefer, support the American Cancer Society, http://www.cancer.org/

Or better yet--donate to both!

Hope that you can all be with us on the next ride!

Sincerely,

Jim Sowers

P.S. When you donate, or if you have already, please send me a short email. Thanks.

Capetown to Cairo - COMPLETE!

2001-05-25T22:23:00.000-07:00

In memory of Jason Martin - Cape to Cairo!

Greetings Friends!

On my 217th day on the African continent, I arrived in Cairo, Egypt!

As I was riding through the desert towards Cairo, I thought, how will I answer to the question people will ask me, "How was your trip?"

My answer is, pick an adjective and it probably applies. There has been joy, pain, disappointment, excitement, frustration, discovery--you name it.

Something really eerie happened when I got to town. I checked into the May Fair Hotel in the Zamalek district (www.mayfairegypt.com). Mind you, Cairo is a huge city -- twice the population of New York -- and there are hundreds if not thousands of hotels here.

But the first hotel I stopped to see--at the end of my 25,000km ride across Africa dedicated to the memory of my Canadian buddy, Jason Martin--turns out to be Canadian owned! There were Canadian flags posted all over the place and all kinds of Canada memorabilia. Jay would have loved it. Are all Canadians patriotic zealots?!

Needless to say, there was no question where I would be staying in Cairo :-) (See the additional photos with this journal entry.)

There are so many people that have helped me along the way that I promise I will make a complete (as best I can) listing when I get home.

For now, I want to thank:

My family who support every crazy thing I do.

The Martin family who have been very supportive of this trip which is dedicated to the memory of their son Jason Martin.

Stephanie Decurnex, who worked with me on the preparation for the trip, and encouraged me to go ahead when she had to turn back.

Gary Kout and David Baumgarten, two of the original moonriders who gave me encouragment and ground support. Gary sent me two DHL packages that were essential.

Dakin Ferris who handled my personal affairs for me. (Is there any money left Dakin?!)

Eric Ramstad, the webmaster for www.moonride.org Eric lost the use of his legs several years ago in a motorcycle accident, so he has been traveling vicariously with me on this trip.

The many, many friends I made in Africa who did so much for me. I plan to list all the people whose homes I stayed in.

All of my friends who have given me so much support both before and during the trip. You don't know how much it helped me to reach an Internet cafe and have so many words of encouragement waiting in my Inbox.

I know it is the beginning of Carnaval weekend in San Francisco (kicking off with a SpinCycle party!), so enjoy your extended weekend.

As for me, I plan to spend a couple of days in Cairo. I will be meeting with the Director of the Save the Children for Egypt. I will be sending you a separate email encouraging you to give your support to STC.

I'm still nursing a sprained ankle, but I have been managing to hobble around and play the tourist here and it has been great. In Luxor, I visited the Valley of the Kings. Then, on a whim I went to Hurghada, which is on the coast of the Red Sea. It turns out to be one of the premier dive spots in the world, so I went on an intro dive (www.aquanaut.net). I have never seen anything like it--it was like being in a giant aquarium--the fish, the colors, the colors, the fantastic colors.

Well, since I am so close, I think I am going to catch a ferry to Greece and ride to England! That will make it 4 continents for me and the KLR! I'll be home by mid-June, I promise!

Jim

P.S. When I originally wrote this I neglected to include the most important thanks of all, my thanks to God.

By whatever name, God or Allah or whatever, I believe in a creator of our universe and that his presence has been part of my life, especially on this journey.

---- Some additional photos from Egypt ----

Canadian Hotel in Cairo!

A view of the Red Sea

Nubian Desert Nightmare

2001-05-19T22:29:00.000-07:00

I think this journal entry will be more enjoyable and informative if you can pull out a map of northern Africa to follow along.

In my last journal entry, I was in Atbara, Sudan waiting for the train to take me across the Nubian desert to the small village/port of Wadi Halfa, Sudan at the bottom of Lake Nasser. Lake Nasser is a man-made lake formed by the giant damn in Aswan, Egypt used to generate hydroelectric power.

Once a week a large ferry takes some 400+ people from Wadi Halfa, Sudan to Aswan, Egypt. Cars are not taken on this ferry--but motorcycles can be brought on board--with a little effort.

Each year, a handful of people make the journey across Africa from Cape Town to Cairo. Some do it by public transport, others by 4WD, and a very few by motorcycle. Of the motorcyclists, I have met only 2 that were doing it alone. Most travel in 2s or 3s. And the majority of all the trans-African travellers seem to do it north-to-south, that is Cairo to Cape Town, since it is the Europeans, rather than Americans and Canadians that tend to make this trek.

All this is to give you a sense of how few travellers of my ilk the immigration/customs people are seeing--especially going the south-to-north route. And thus, the paperwork, among other things, is hardly a simple or usual affair.

Back to Atbara. The train was having difficulties--it stopped in Shendi for several hours, and finally arrived in Atbara at 12:40am

Earlier in the day, much earlier, I had loaded my motorcycle onto a baggage car. I had just filled the tank with gas the day before only to be informed that I would have to empty it (I knew this was the rule for airplanes, but not for trains). I managed to get ahold of a 2-gallon container so that I could keep some of the precious fuel. The train officials said it would be no problem for me to carry the gas with me.

This seemed really bizarre -- gas in baggage car was dangerous, but taking it in the passenger car where people were smoking like fiends was perfectly acceptable. After I packed my motorcycle and most of my bags into the baggage car, they closed and everything seemed safe and secure.

When the train finally arrived, I scrambled to find my seat with my backpack and two-gallons of gas in tow. In turned out that the car for which my ticket was issued did not exist. I tried to find a seat on one of the first-class cars, but to no avail--I was summarily booted out of each cabin I attempted to enter.

Along the way, as I dealt with the crush of people--many of whom were smoking--I decided that I could live without my precious gasoline and I ditched the container on the train platform. Some lucky Sudanese no doubt will have made a nice profit from my abandoned "benzene".

Finally, a train official placed me in a seat in a car in 3rd-class. The car was packed with people--on the seats, on top of the seats, on the floors, in the aisles. I didn't care. I was going to endure this 18-hour train ride, get to Wadi Halfa, and then get to Egypt.

But alas, another train official came along and tried to boot me from my less than appealing place. When he asked for my ticket, I would only hold it for him to see, but would not let him take it. I had been through this process too many times in my travelling career. With one hand I held a flashlight, and with the other my ticket.

Words exchanged from each side--neither of us understanding the language, but each understanding the others intentions. He wanted me to move. I was not going to budge. I also pointed out that he wasn't concerned with looking at anyone else's ticket--several of the people surrounding me did not have one.

After I raised my voice and made clear that nothing short of force was going to get me to relinquish my seat, he relented and went away.

It was now about 1:30 in the morning and I was getting acquainted with the faces I would be crossing the desert with.

We sat and waited for the train to leave. And we waited. And we waited. And then we slept in every uncomfortable position imaginable. And after a few miserable hours of sleep, I opened my eyes to see what--the same train station. We had not left.

The train was having mechanical difficulties. The officials in charge of baggage whom had befriended me, told me that the problem was spare parts--America refused to sell them to Sudan. (I later learned that the engine was in fact German, not American).

Finally, at 12:07pm the train unceremoniously jerked forward and we were off into the furious heat of the Nubian desert. But I soon noticed that we had very little speed--no more than 50kph (30mph) and generally slower than that. Within an hour we stopped. And so it went for the next 24 hours -- going a little, then stopping.

It was clear that the train had some real mechanical difficulties. It was not clear whether we would make it to Wadi Halfa.

It was a hot, hot, dirty affair. The seats were covered in dirt and crumbs, and spilled tea, and food stuffs. There were babies crying; people sleeping in the aisles; packages precariously perched from the overhead luggage racks.

The family seated across from me had a small baby boy. He was nursing most of the time, and within an hour of the train's departure he soiled his father's robe in a big way.

The main issue for me, aside from sleep deprivation, and feeling really dirty, was water. The train basically parallels the Nile all the way to Abu Hamed. Thus, whenever we stopped, people would run to the Nile and jump in and fill their water bottles.

Unfortunately, I had learned in Khartoum that more than 1 glass of unfiltered Nile water at a time for me resulted in stomach pain and diarrhea -- neither of which I wanted on what was turning into an extended train ride.

Thus, I was drinking massive quantities of Pepsi and tea -- neither of which was completely satisfying. If I return home with cavities and/or diabetes, it will be due to my time in the desert!

We finally reached Abu Hamed, the half-way point in the journey, and the point at which the train tracks and the Nile go their separate ways -- the trains cuts directly across the desert to Wadi Halfa. (See your map).

To my pleasant surprise, a lot of people exited the train at Abu Hamed, and fewer got on. So, at least we had some breathing room for the remainder of the trip.

After having gotten only 35km outside of Abu Hamed, we stopped. And 10 minutes, turned into an hour, turned into 5 hours. First they said that we were going back to Abu Hamed. Then they said that they were taking the baggage cars off (my bike!). Then they said a new engine was being sent from Abu Hamed. Mind you, I'm getting this all second hand from the few people who spoke a bit of English.

In fact, two engines did show up. And at some point I saw the car I knew to have my motorcyle (and the bulk of my money in a locked piece of luggage) roll away.

We finally headed out again after a series of false starts in both directions (Abu Hamed and Wadi Halfa) -- noboby was really sure where we going.

But Wadi Halfa it was. The train engineer had told me during our extended stop that the problem was the "starter". He didn't speak much English at all, and based on the train's snail-like pace, I assumed that the starter was not, in fact, the problem.

There was nothing but desert. And I mean nothing, just sand, and small hills in the far distance. No trees. No tumbleweeds. Certainly no houses. Not even sand dunes. Just mile after mile of flat, golden sand.

Along the train track ran relatively new power lines, and every single kilometer was marked with a small, neatly placed grey marker. I began timing the train and using the markers calculated our speed to be ranging between 25-50kph.

The going was slow, but other than a few brief stops to allow for prayers, we kept going. And at 6am, Thursday, we arrived at Wadi Halfa. Our scheduled 18-hour trip had taken 54 hours! My pants were so dirty, they could stand up on their own.

We were supposed to have arrived in Wadi Halfa on Tuesday night. The normal course is that the next morning people get all the paperwork done, then get on the ferry for Aswan on Wednesday afternoon.

Since the train was late, the ferry had waited. It was now slotted to leave at 4pm on Thursday. So the mad dash was on to get the paperwork done. And it turned out, that the paperwork involved in leaving Sudan is the most complicated, Byzantine, mind-numbing process I have ever encountered in the 40 (yes 40) countries that I have visited!

The first step, the security check, was an omen of how things were going to go. The person who spoke the best English said to me, "Oh, you're American. America does ever by force doesn't it." What could I do but smile and shrug my shoulders. I just wanted to leave the country.

The next step was to buy a ticket for the ferry, since I didn't have one. The toothless old man at the ferry ticket office in Khartoum told me that buying a ticket in Wadi Halfa would be no problem. Apparently this was the case in March, but May was apparently high seaon. Many of the people on the train already had their tickets, and there was a crush of people seeking to buy one. From my perspective, it was Africans who did things by force, certainly when it came to forming a queue.

Additionally, I did not have enough money to buy my ticket. It was in my luggage. I know, I know, this was a big mistake. But to me, if the bike wasn't going neither was I. And I never would have imagined that we would be separated.

So I sat at the train station and waited. They told me the baggage car would arrive at 2pm--and miracle of miracles, it arrived at 1:30pm!! I had 2 1/2 hours to unload my bike, get my ticket, get through customs and immigration and get on the boat.

Well, we're at that point where I realize I've written too much at the front end, and now have to summarize at the back end. So here goes:

* After loading my bike, the Sudanese threw a bunch of cargo on top of it--broke my "engine kill" switch. Furiously tried to fix in the boxcar while the train jerked back and forth. Sweating, angry, and cursing like a sailor. Blew two fuses but got the bike running.

* Made it to the ferry only to be told there was no room. Later learned they kicked 65 people off the boat -- there was plenty of room!

* Spent a week in Wadi Halfa waiting for the next ferry. There was about 70 of us who suffered through the train ride together only to be stranded in Wadi Halfa for a week. We were like a little community of refugees--Egyptians, Dinka, Arabs, and 1 "howaja" (foreigner). We played soccer against the locals -- Refugees v. Wadi Halfa -- and won!

* Loading my bike onto the ferry, I slipped on the deck and fell (again!) -- show number 3 -- and sprained my ankle.

* Made it to Aswan, Egypt on Thursday night, only to be told I could not leave until Saturday at the earliest -- I had to be issued Egyptian plates for my bike. But, being in Aswan was such a contrast and a relief. And finally a COLD BEER :-)

Well, as you can imagine, each of the points above could be expanded into a chapter.

Let me just say, the Sudanese people were incredible. I'll hold off on my comments about the government there, but even then, when I dealt with the officials individually, I just couldn't help but like most of them.

I am indebted to Salah Abrahim and his family for hosting me for several nights in their home as well as Amro and Mah Zakaria for including me in many social events.

By the way, Aswan is a pretty cool city, right along the Nile with lots of fancy riverboats, horsedrawn carriages, and a Sheesha bar on every corner.

We're almost there!

Jim

P.S. In fairness to the Sudan Railways, the train the week before I went was on time, as was the one the week after. Just Moonrider luck I guess :-)

Waiting in vain for the train - Atbara, Sudan

2001-05-07T22:37:00.000-07:00

I am in Atbara, Sudan waiting for the train to Wadi Halfa. This place is even more remote than Gisenyi, Rwanda where I also found an internet cafe.

Yesterday, I rode through 200 miles of desert wind and sand to get here. It was unbelievable. I'm suprised my bike still has paint on it.

Gotta run. If the train ever gets here it will be a hot 24-hour journey across the Nubian desert.

Cheers!

Jim

Did you ever imagine visiting Khartoum, Sudan!?

2001-05-03T22:38:00.000-07:00

I never dreamed of it! I really had very little idea of what to expect.

Well, before I delve into Khartoum, let me give a couple other snippets of the past few days.

The day I sent my last email from Gedaref I tried something called "tumbak" or "soud" for the first time. It is a very strong type of tobacco that many Sudanese chew. They roll it into a small ball and tuck it under their upper lip.

So, a man at a telephone office offered me a sample. At first I declined, but then decided to try it. Since, the Sudanese were eminently friendly and I felt no threats of any kind, I figured this was the safest place to try it.

Within in 2 minutes, I was lightheaded. Another minute and my head was spinning and I was feeling nauseated. Another minute, and I felt that I really needed to lie down. One more minute and I rushed to the door, flung it open, fell on my knees in the dirt and threw up what had been a pretty tasty lunch. Boy did I feel sick fast!

Of course, everyone in the street stopped and stared. I saw exactly zero Westerners walking around Gedaref, so already I was noticed.

I remained on my hands and news, taking slow breaths. I could tell the worst was over. During this time, the man who had given me the tumbak was horrified. He was squatted next to me and kept saying to me in his limited English "I'm sorry", "I'm a bad man".

So, I was trying recover from my tumbak and at the same time console this poor guy who nothing but the best of intentions. He bought me Pepsi -- which actually helped. (Sudan is the second country I have been to where Pepsi is far ahead of Coke.)

Within 15 minutes I was sitting in his office again feeling fine. He took another ball of tumbak in his mouth, then asked me if I could help me program the automatic redial on his phone. After replacing the batteries, and re-writing some of the manual for him, his automatic redial was set, and I was down the road again :-)

The night before I left for Khartoum, I slept on the roof of the Amir Hotel, where many of the other guests were also stretched out. Did I mention that it is hard to socialize with women here. In the hotel - men only, at the Teacher's union - men only. In fact, when I met my teacher friends that night, they told me that the police had stopped a man and woman walking together to ask what their relationship was.

Sudan is complicated. The people are fantastic - generous and honest; religously dedicated, accepting of foreigners, and yet they are hungry, they are tired of the war, and many desire the freedoms they know they do not have.

So, back to the roof. I didn't sleep much, but lying there feeling the hot desert wind, I stared at the stars above and at the sliver of moon which was so appropriately in the shape of the moon on mosques and other Islamic symbols. I'm not a young kid, but I felt like one with the excitement of visiting places that so few others have ever seen.

This was a dream coming true -- in a sense a dream that I had never had. I never thought about Sudan specifically. I just dreamt of Africa, and the rest has been good fortune in discovery.

At 5am I threw my bags over my shoulders and walked the 1km to the police station where I loaded up the bike to get an early start to Khartoum to beat the heat.

I headed out of town at 6am where I saw my first street sign in English in a long time: Khartoum 411km.

The road was pretty good asphalt and I was able to make good time. The drivers were driving me crazy (just like everywhere) as they vehemently flashed their lights to tell me my headlight was on (U.S.

bikes are required to always have their headlight on -- no off switch.).

[Note: I wrote the above 3 days ago. There was a lot more, but then, a power failure hit and I lost everything else I had written. Usually, I am a little more cautious, but I hadn't experienced any power failures in Sudan and had let my guard down. I later learned that there had been no power failures because they were giving the students national exams. Once the exams were over, the power supply became as erratic as in the rest of Africa.]

The ride to Khartoum was comfortable almost until I arrived -- that is, it didn't get too hot early on. The irony of the drive was that trucks or busses that were going to attempt to pass a vehicle, would pull back when they saw me coming from the other direction. This is ironic because in Sudan there is plenty of space on the shoulder of the roads. Whereas in Kenya, the drivers had no compunction about forcing me off the road -- which would send me into the bush!

I was almost to Khartoum when I spotted a lone motorcycle headed the other way. We stopped and spent the next 30 minutes trading information and stories. He was a New Zealander on a Yamaha Tenere and he had come down from France.

[Power failure number 2! Damn. I only lost 10 minutes worth of work, but I can type a lot in 10 minutes!! Sorry, I'm giving up on naration -- bullet point from here on out.]

Khartoum - hot and flat -- which makes navigation a little trick; bordered by the Blue Nile (Ethiopia) and the White Nile (Uganda)
Couldn't reach my friend that I met at the border. Checked into an expensive $24 hotel -- long story, but glad to have air-con and TV for once.
Went to the American Club only to discover they were having a "Latino Party" that night--you know I was all over that one. They had a DJ -- not too many DJs in Sudan.
No beer to be found here -- never really missed until until I knew I couldn't have it.
Man on motor scooter pulls me over and invites me to his house. I have delicious meal, meet his family and friends, then his mother paints my hand and foot with henna -- I wouldn't let her do both hands and feet. (Yes, as I type this, the tips of my left hand are a dark burnt orange-red :-)
Crashed the bike on the streets of Khartoum. Totally dumb. I was riding around with my friends and punched the gas and hit some sand on the road and went down hard. Got some nice road rash on my hand and knee and bent the forks/handlebar a little. We'll both be fine. I was a bit of a mess with blood and gravel mixed with my henna ink--second time I had a bunch of Sudanese standing around staring at me in an embarrassing situation. I should be charging for these shows.
Found my friend and moved into his home. His nephew was the DJ at the Latino Party--talk about strange coincidence!
Visited the Save the Children center in Khartoum. The Director of International Operations happened to be in town and we had a great chat! Unfortunately, their budget for Sudan has been drastically reduced because of the political situation, but the need for funds remains. I'll write more on this when I have time and more reliable computer situation.
A note about Muslims. In America, in my humble opinion, Muslims are for the most part, an unknown quantity -- the subject of some unpleasant stereotypes, curiosity, and fear. In my short time here, I have found people here to be warm, generous, completely accepting of me although knowing that I am not of their faith, and not trying to convert me. I'm afraid, like with so many groups, the extremists have done a terrible disservice to the majority.
Finally, a special THANK YOU to Getty Wagaye who allowed me to stay at his parents' home and gave me all kinds of courtesy and help while I was in Ethiopia. (And to Brook who gave me a tour of Addis!)

I have so much to tell about Sudan after having been here only a few days, but I'm dripping sweat and I know the power is going to go off again -- so you'll have to wait.

Thanks for all the supportive emails.

Jim

Playlists for Radio Shows in Ethiopia

2001-04-30T22:43:00.000-07:00

Playlists - FM 97.1 Ethiopia

SpinCycle (Jim Sowers) with DJ Kin

Below are the lists of music I played on Ethiopian radio during my visit there. There are only two radio stations, so we had a huge audience and incredible response from people calling into the station. Who knows, maybe I have a future as a DJ in Ethiopia!

Friday the 13th of April, 2001 8-9pm (European calendar and time)

(actually 8:30 to 9:15 because our cab broke down)

Show Title: "60 Minutes of Latino"

1. Bene More - Bonita y Sabrosa [Cuba]

2. La Duena del Swing - Los Hermanos Rosario [Dominican Republic]

3. Pa Mayte - Carlos Vives [Colombia]

4. Negra Tomasa - Ache Pa' Ti [Rubenstein/Itule - USA]

5. Airo Moreito - It's time for Carnaval [Brazil]

6. Bomboleo - Bembe Colora? [Cuba]

7. Represent - Orishas [Cuban Hip-Hop from France]

8. Micaela - Sonores Carruseles [Colombia]

--------------------------------------------------

Easter Sunday, 15-April-2001 8-midnight (European calendar and time)

Show Title: "Night Sessions with DJ Kin"

9-9:30pm

1. De Party Now Start - Crazy [Edwin Ayoung, Trinidad & Tobago]

(Note: Easter Sunday for Orthodox Christians in Ethiopia marks the end of a two-month fast during which time they are not permitted to eat meat or meat products -- milk, eggs, cheese, etc.

Thus, the first song in tune with the feeling in Ethiopia as many people were celebrating and eating foods they had been missing.)

2. Somos Cubanos - Los Van Van [Cuba, with dedication to Ethio-Cubanos]

3. Esa Chica (Me Vacila) - Banda Show [Nicaragua, I think]

4. Pump Me Up - krosfyah [Barbados]

9:30 - 11pm Singing contest for people calling in. Tadesse Alemu, an top Ethiopian singer, and I are judges.

11-11:30pm

5. Me Voy a Cali - Oscar D'Leon [Venezuela]

6. Police 'n Thieves - Junior Marvin [Jamaica]

7. Tempted to Touch - Beres Hammond (feat. Cutty Ranks) [Jamaica]

8. Airto Moreiro - (I don't know the name of the tune)[Samba from Brazil]

9. Toco Band - Lord Kitchener [Trinidad & Tobago]

Baking in Gedaref, Sudan!

2001-04-27T22:46:00.000-07:00

This trip just keeps getting wilder!

I am writing this in the only Internet cafe in Gedaref, Sudan! You need a big map of Sudan -- Gedaref is in the southeast, about 500km from Khartoum.

The last week of riding from Addis Ababa to here was the toughest, loneliest piece of riding I have ever done in my life. Terrible roads--sharp rocks, gravel, sand, mountains, herds of animals--day after day. And then, blistering heat. I arrived in Sudan in the middle of their Summer -- I have never experienced heat like this in my life!

Anyway, quick highlights from the last few weeks:

Visited the museum and saw "Lucy", at one time recognized as the oldest human fossils to be discovered
Radio FM -- I was invited to do two radio shows. The first was their only Latin music show, hosted by DJ Kin, and he had me provide the entire show's music. (I will post the playlist later.) The response was incredible -- the station's two phone lines were ringing off the hook--it really made me want to stay in Ethiopia.
Rode to Bahar Dar which is at the southern tip of Lake Tana. Saw the Blue Nile Falls which were at about half capacity but still very beautiful and impressive (Africa's second biggest falls).
Took a boat on Lake Tana to some of the island monastaries -- several are 700+ years old (and some do not permit women visitors). Met tourists from Djibouti and Yemen.
Crossed the border at Metema, Ethiopia. The immigration office was in a mud hut.
After the Sudanese customs officers processed my papers for my motorcycle, they offered me lunch--which was delicious. NEVER, have I been treated so well by immigration/customs officials. In the two short days I have been here, I have already become aware how generous the Sudanese people are.

I have got to go. Tomorrow I ride through the blistering heat to Khartoum!

So much to tell, but so little internet time.

Your Friend,

Jim Sowers

Riots in Addis Ababa

2001-04-19T22:49:00.000-07:00

Yes, yesterday (Wednesday, 18-April) there were riots in Addis Ababa.

I don't know if it was picked up by the news channels in the States; I didn't see any mention of it on CNN's website.

First, I'm fine and not in any danger. In a weird kind of way, I have been just missing trouble all along this trip.

As Adam, Dotan, and I headed into Mozambique from South Africa, an outbreak of cholera swept across the country. Then, shortly after we crossed Mozambique, which was recovering from the previous year's floods, the rains came again. And many of the roads we travelled are yet again impassable.

And then, just a couple of weeks after I visited Zanzibar, there was a political demonstration and 14 people were shot dead by the police.

I can give more examples, but you get the idea.

So, perhaps I have stayed in Ethiopia too long, and my luck in avoiding the hot spots has run out :-)

Here is a brief summary based on what I can glean from local news and the reports of friends and neighbors. Also, one of my new friends is a student at the University. I may have some things confused, or even completely wrong, so if you are really interested you may want to seek out other sources as well.

Last week, some students at the University of Addis Ababa had a small rally/demonstration. They were making certain demands of the administration, including things like being able to have certain student organizations and being able to have a say in the selection of future University presidents.

The demonstration was peaceful, until the administration called in the police to break it up. They did so, but in the process 45 students were sent to the hospital. One died as a result of jumping from a building. No police or other civilian injuries were reported.

The demonstration was focused strictly on things related to campus life.

The following day the administration attempted to divide the students into those who would attend school and those who would protest. And apparently were refusing to engage in any discussion of the students' demands. The ironic thing is that many of the people in the school administration were themselves student protesters 30 years ago!

Well, as I mentioned in an earlier journal entry--the worst thing you can do is ignore an Ethiopian child. The same is true for its students. Rather than pacifying the situation, the students were now enraged at being ignored.

As best I can tell, over the weekend they organized a march for this week. However, many other groups seized upon the students' cause, turning it into a political situation.

There is a lot of unrest brewing in Ethiopia due to high unemployment, hunger, and the strain of the transition to a capitalistic economy.

On Wednesday, yesterday, a march near the University turned into pandemonium. Thousands of people were in the streets, most of whom were not students. What ensued was rioting, looting, turning over of cars, etc. Five people died, and movement of traffic in much of the city came to a standstill.

Most of the looting and rioting took place in the Piazza area which is about 1-2 km from the University. It is also the area where a lot of cheap hotels for tourists are located--and is where I spent my first several days in Addis.

My friends were all quite nervous about the violence continuing and/or escalating and last night was a very quiet night. In addition the past several days have been quite hot (in the 90s) and dry. I remember reading somewhere that more violent crime is commited when the temperature is 92 degrees than any other time -- apparently it is hot enough to drive people crazy, but not so hot as to inhibit them from moving.

I don't know, but yesterday (and today) were miserably hot days. And tempers flared. Ironically, I have been in the Piazza district almost every day I have been in Addis. But yesterday, I was making some last minute repairs on my bike in another part of town. And today, I finished the maintenance and stayed well clear of Piazza.

In addition, all school was called off today, for university students as well as primary and secondary schools.

I am hopeful that things will remain calm for the sake of my friends and of Ethiopia. I should be making my exit from Addis on Saturday. But it is a strange feeling to be in capital of the country whose citizens pride themselves on the low level of violence here.

Well, that is all for now. It may be a while before my next entry. Your comments, suggestions, corrections, insights are all welcomed.

Warm Regards,

Jim

Notes from Addis Ababa

2001-04-13T22:50:00.000-07:00

Village in southern Ethiopia

Well, every time I start to write about what has been happening, I get caught up in the details and run out of time (and energy) realizing that there is a whole bunch of other stuff I wanted to cover.

So, here are some snippets, each of which has much more behind it:

The Food

-------------

The staple of Ethiopian food is enjera -- a bread-like dough that is spread flat over a large round plate. A variety of vegetables and spices are then dolloped on top of the enjera and you use your hands to tear it and use it to scoop the other food into bites. It's really tasty, but quite filling, and for many Westerners (myself included), enjera induces severe flatulance :-)

Fruit Juices: another staple of the diet here is fruit juice -- mango, guava, orange, and avocado. It is usually served in a mug, and is a thick blended juice served with a half-lime on the side. Mixed juice is the best, both in flavor and presentation, with layers of green, yellow, and pinkish-purple.

Caffeine!! Coffee was invented here, so this old San Francisco boy is in caffeine heaven. It is every bit as the strongest Bay-Area brew. My favorite is makiato - it's like a mini, supercharged latte.

Italian influence: The lasting influence of the Italian occupation include cappucino machines in every bar, lots of Ice Cream parlors, and spaghetti on every menu (and there are a few very good Italian restaurants here) -- I'm starting to gain some weight back!

Did I mention that Ethiopia is quite inexpensive. A real deal for us travellers.

Religion

----------

I believe the majority of Ethiopians are Christian, although there is also a large Muslim community. Of the Christians the majority are Orthodox. As part of their tradition, they fast for the two months before Easter (which for them will be this Sunday, 15-April). The fast means abstaining from all meat and meat products -- eggs, cheese, etc.

Also, part of the tradition includes going to the church and kneeling to the ground, crossing oneself, and then standing again. Some people do this 41 times on Good Friday, others do it 1000 times of the course of the week!

This Easter Sunday will be marked by great celebrations -- now you know why I stayed so long in Addis.

Radio and TV

------------------

To understand the media, you have to know a little of the history. Ethiopia went through a Marxist revolution in the mid-70s which led to the ouster of Haile Selasie. The group in power until the early 90s was known as the Derg.

The Derg were overthrown in 1993 and a capitalist society is slowly, painfully evolving. But the remants of socialist society remain--including state-owned media.

For a long time the only TV station was ETV, and just recently TVAfrica was just added -- a station that broadcasts throughout Africa. Each of these stations are on only a few hours a day.

There are two radio stations, both run by Radio FM. They broadcast from 6am until midnight. The station is a bit like a military complex--and one goes through some scrutiny before being allowed to enter.

Since I am carrying a lot of music with me, I was soon invited to be part of two radio shows--tonight I will be playing Cuban salsa with DJ Kin! (They also interviewed me about my trip and American culture -- something I know less and less about :-)

The Cuban Connection

-----------------------------

Just two days ago, I had the most unexpected and pleasant surprise. I chanced upon a community of Ethiopians who had lived in Cuba. I discovered a little bar called "Havana Club" that was complete with Havana Club (the Cuban rum) logos, glasses, posters, and of course the rum itself in ample supple.

The owners, Samuel and Yared, had lived in Cuba 20 and 13 years, respectively. I learned that since the revolution some 5000 Ethiopian men and women had lived in Cuba, many 5 years or more. Many were children who had lost a parent in the war, and went at the invitation of the Cuban government.

So there is this generation of people that have spent a portion of the childhood and adult life in Cuba. Some, such as Samuel are more comfortable speaking Spanish than Amharic. In some sense, they are having a bi-cultural identity crisis.

But for me it was a real pleasure to be around the music and culture that I love, and spend so much time with when at home. It was eerie sitting in this bar where I could here an Amharic conversation in the background, but in front of me were new friends speaking Spanish exactly as I heard it in the streets of Cuba, laced with the same slang, "Que bola asere!", "Ta pinga" and more!

Save the Children

----------------------

I had an extraordiary visit with the Save the Children office here in Addis. There were most pleased to meet with me and hear about the trip. And Worknesh, the special projects co-ordinator, described for me many of their activities.

Save the Children, US helps over 400,000 children and adolescents in Ethiopia. They have just launched a web site, the address I will have to post later. (I did got a job offer to stay and do computer work for them -- and I must say it is tempting -- the people of Ethiopia are treating me fantastically.)

So much more to tell, but it will have to wait.

I now have my visas for Sudan and Egypt -- so, barring unforeseen difficulties, the Cape to Cairo trek may soon be complete.

Warm Regards,

Jim

Riding to Addis Ababa

2001-04-12T22:52:00.000-07:00

Hi Friends!

Well, I've been in Addis Ababa for a two weeks and in Ethiopia for three weeks now. Forgive me for not sending out this sooner. This is Africa :-)

So where to start. Ethiopia is like no other place I have visited in Africa. It is different in every way. The people are different. Physically they range from dark black to a light coffee color with straight hair. You can see how Ethiopia is the bridge between sub-Saharan Africa and the Middle East.

Currently, I am staying at the home of the parents of an Ethiopian friend who lives in California. The parents are in California now, but their son, Getty, lives nearby and has given me every courtesy and included me in various social events.

Getty lived in the U.S. for 17 years before returning to Ethiopia in 1997. So, we have had several interesting discussions on the differences in culture and lifestyle between the U.S. and Ethiopia. But before I go there, let me tell you a bit more about what I have been seeing.

The people of Ethiopia are also different in their interaction with the outside world. Ethiopia prides itself on never having been colonized. In my observation, the great pride on this point sometimes serves to their disadvantage. (Note: Ethiopia was occupied by the Italians from 1936 to 1941 but the Ethiopian and Eritrean people put up tremendous resistance throughout the occupation.) In many ways, it is still a "closed" society -- which several Ethiopians have acknowledged to me.

Thus, where those Kenyans or Ugandans who do not know me might be more deferential simply because of my skin, Ethiopians are quite the opposite. Children yell, "You you you", and they sometimes run up and touch me or the bike, or come and shake my hand. Especially outside of the city, I am an unusual site, but there is little fear or deference for "ferengi" (foreigners), but rather curiousity.

Much of Ethiopia is in the highlands. This has often been given as the reason for the Ethiopia's ability to avoid being colonized, but I think this discounts too much the nature and will of the Ethiopian people.

From Moyale the ride took me through plains, rolling hills, and along the lakes of Rift Valley, formed so many of millions ago, which stretches from Ethiopia to Mozambique.

From Lake Awasa, I rode past Shashamene, 25km to the north, which is the home to community of Jamaican Rastafarians. My understanding is that some Jamaicans came to Ethiopia oer 100 years ago. Then, in the 1960s, Haile Salassie donated some land for Jamaicans to live in Ethiopia, and a second wave arrived. There are now over 200 families living there.

The 250km north took me through wide-open savannahs with a smattering of trees, herds of cattle, goats, and donkeys (or mules--I always get them confused--but I do know a jackass when I meet one :-)

The road from Shashamene to Addis Ababa is freshly paved which made for a beautiful ride, but also creates the usual temptation to drive faster than is safe. This is because while the surface of the road has changed, the hazards have not -- there are still all kinds of human and animal obstacles that can appear in a moment's notice.

I should mention that I had been warned about the Ethiopian boys throwing rocks at motorcyclists. And also trying to place sticks in the spokes of the wheels. These warnings came from serveral Europeans who had just ridden through Ethiopia. So from the beginning, I had some apprehension.

But, if I may make a generalization, I think there is something that separates me from most of the other trans-African riders--I wave to the people. I wave to practically everyone I see when I'm out in the country -- and invariably they wave back -- farmers, shepherds, laborers, and children, especially the children. In fact, often the children beat me to the punch. And it is amazing, some of the children are just barely walking and already they have the instinct to wave--I wonder, is this learned or instinctive?

So, I continued my waving like a beauty queen on a float, and I had very few problems. Often times, I saw little boys streaking to the side of the road, but when they reached I was already waving to them and most waved back. It was as if my gesture had disarmed them.

In Awasa, an Ethiopian friend confirmed my instincts. He said the worst thing I could do was to ignore an Ethiopian child. I suspected that that was the sin committed by those riders who reported their problems.

Of course, when I passed through the various villages, cramped with people and animals and donkey-drawn carts, it was not possible to wave to everyone and in fact would seem disingenuous. It was in some of the villages that I had little boys run in front of the bike, gesture as if to throw a rock, etc.

However, I found a solution. I started riding standing up, or standing on my seat, in an effort to entertain--and this invariably brought whistles and cheers. If there is something I have observed in Africans, they are fun-loving and enjoy a good show! I was weaving back and forth behind a truck and doing some showing off and the men in the back tried to hand me a piece of sugar cane as a reward.

So, I had no problems of that sort on my ride to Addis. The main difficulty was keeping my eyes on the road--the scenery was magnificent. There were villages of round thatched-roof huts. Many of these huts were much larger than I was used to seeing in East Africa. I noticed that many of the huts were fenced off. Getty says this is a trait of Ethiopians, that they like to mark their territory.

About 80km north of Shashamene, I approached a small town and the traffic was stopped. I saw what appeared to be a vendor's cart spilled in the middle of the road. There was a big commotion and several women were crying and wringing their hands.

At first, I thought that someone had had their cart knocked over, but it became clear it was something more. I was waiting behind a truck that finally began to make its way through the crowd of people. I hesitated, but a the truck behind me honked and I started carefully forward.

Soon, I could see the real source of anguish. There was a body, covered with a tarp and a hand protruding; a pool of blood beside collected beside--its shade of red indicating how recent the accident had been.

People were wailing. The whole community seemed to be there, mourning the loss of own of its members. I was shaken. Pedestrians being killed by cars was nothing particularly African. In fact, just before I left San Francisco, there had been a spate of pedestrian deaths due to red-light runners. Still, I had not witnessed a dead body of an accident before. And what made the scene peculiarly African was the outpour of sentiment by the community.

The other thing that I think made this event unusual is that Ethiopian drivers are more cautious than the other places I had driven. The mini-busses were more courteous. Trucks had pulled out to pass, and upon seeing me, pulled back! So, I suspect that this type of accident was less usual than in other parts of Africa.

The ride to Addis Ababa climbs up to a height of 2300+ meters -- I believe it is the fourth highest capital city in the world. (Asmara, the capital of Eritrea, is situated at exactly the same height). So, as I climbed into the hills of Addis on this sunny day, the air cooled and the streets began to congest.

In true Moonride tradition, 270km of perfectly paved road ended with a 1km stretch of dirt road under construction right on the edge of the city. And wouldn't you know it, I got a flat on the rear tire! I stopped at a gas station, but the number of motorcycles, and those that can repair motorcycle tires, in Addis, is much smaller than in Kampala -- the location of my last flat.

So, I pumped in the can of Tire-Fix and rode off in search of my hotel. I rode by the stadium where there were droves of people lined up to see Angola v. Ethiopia in the African Youth Football tournament.

Addis Ababa is a bit tricky to navigate -- and there are few street signs in any language. After a few inquiries I was able to locate the Baro hotel in the Piazza district.

Very briefly, the next few days were miserable. It rained. I continued to fight whatever sickness I picked up in Awasa. My hotel sucked -- the rooms were damp and dank and infested with bed bugs (which gave me bites and a rash that lasted for many days after I left).

The bright spot was a few of the travelers I met. In particular, were a Canadian couple that had just arrived in Addis--Warren and Carol. Warren was also a motorcyclist and a "barnyard mechanic" like me. He and I tried changing my rear tube and we failed miserably--mangling my rim, and poking holes in the spare tube. But in the end, we had a great time and laughed at the whole thing!

After a couple of days, things got much better. The weather cleared up. Getty showed up with his friend Brook who knows the best motorcycle mechanics in town. And I got some medicine at the pharmacy that was putting me on a slow path to recovery.

I spent the last few days doing the usual dance of documentation and motorcycle repair. Brook introduced me to Johnny -- former Moto-cross champ of Ethiopia and top-notch motorcycle mechanic. In addition, Gary Kout back at home has been lining up a few parts for me.

(I continue to benefit from the original research Gary and David Baumgarten did for the first trip. They selected gear and products that continue to last and work well, e.g., Pelican Cases, Acerbis hand guards, Aerostitch riding suit, and more. I write more about this later, but I just want to note, that much of the preparation for this trip was really done by Gary and David 5 years ago!)

The other major accomplishment was that I received a visa for Sudan. There is a long, interesting story here -- perhaps a whole chapter for the book :-)

Before I send off this mish-mash of impressions, I want to write a little something about the music.

Throughout all the other countries of Africa there had been three types of music that I was consistently hearing: 1) Hip-hop/R&B, 2) Country, and 3) Lingala.

Yes, everywhere I have gone American Hip-hop and R&B proliferates -- and they have the very latest stuff. For me it was a bit of a disappoinment because it is often THE most popular music, more so than their own local music.

The next BIG surprise is the incredible popularity of Country music -- yes, Don Williams (whom I had never heard of -- Dad, I'll look to you for an education here), Dolly Parton, Ronnie Milsap, the Dixie Chicks, etc. Even in Ethiopia this is popular!

Finally, there is Lingala -- this is the music of the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) which eminates primarily from Kinshasa. Lingala is the language that it is sung in. (Note that many West Africans refer to it as Ndombolo. Artists such as Kofi Olomide, Awilo Longomba, and Extra Musica are widely popular throughout Africa. Ethiopia was the exception here--there is much less familiarity with other African music. They seem to listen to their own music, American music, and a little bit of Reggae. I could find almost no one familiar with West African music.

Well, that's it for now. Every time I write one of these journal entries, I think of a hundred things I wanted to say. I think that I have overemphasized this and underemphasized that. So, please understand, this is just stream of conscious as I race to update you before the Internet or power fails again. The Internet here is up and down more than a New York elevator.

They have only a single ISP here, and no plans to add more anytime soon. The old antitrust attorney in me continues to appreciate the wisdom of the Sherman Antitrust Act. If you going to have a capitalistic system, then competition is the best way to make it work.

Gotta go!

Jim

P.S. Sorry there are not more photos. It ain't easy to upload from here

Greetings from Awasa, Ethiopia!

2001-03-27T23:18:00.000-08:00

Date: 27-Mar-2001 (or 18-July-1993 in Ethiopia)

Hello Friends!

Usually I wait until I reach the capital city to write my journal updates, but since it has been over 3 weeks I thought I had better let you know what was happening.

I am writing this in the library in Awasa, Ethiopia which is about 270km south of Addis Ababa. There is a single internet connection in this town, and I'm using it. Fortunately, I am able to barter my computer skills for discounted rates. I taught Berhani Borena some advanced web stuff, and he let me use the computer offline to write this free of charge.

Two weeks ago I said my goodbyes to Nairobi and rode north towards Mt. Kenya. It was really hard to leave because I had established a great community of friends there, particularly in the Kenyan National Theatre. I think the hard part of travelling is not having contact with a regular community of friends--thus, once I had developed such a group in Kenya I did not want to leave.

The next day, I was in Nanyuki getting ready to book a 3-day trek to Mt. Kenya, following in Jay's footsteps. I called my friend Lailah in Nairobi, with whom I had spent a lot of time and had taken with me to Mombasa. She had just learned that her grandfather had died and she was quite depressed. So, I decided to forego Mt. Kenya--it will be there for some time--and I returned to Nairobi.

I attended the funeral with Lailah in a small village outside of Bungoma, in the western region of Kenya. There is a lot to tell here, from the crazy all-night bus rides there and back, to the family sleep-over, but the details will have to wait until the book comes out :-)

So, exactly one week later (on Tues. Mar. 20) I again left Nairobi. The first day I reached Karichota, a cabin near Naro Meru owned by some friends. The following day I planned to ride to Marsabit.

Now, I had heard that from Osiolo to Moyale there was a threat of bandits, and most people hired armed escorts. But, I had subsequently talked to some motorcyclists who had ridden through there without incident. To be honest, I completely forgot about the threat of bandits and headed on my merry way.

If you can locate a big map of Kenya, you will see that the northern section is desert. From Osiolo, the road immediately became a dusty, rocky, nasty bit of driving. I didn't have any water with me and didn't feel like stopping in Osiolo--it just did not feel like a friendly town. I cannot explain why every once in a while, I make some really dumb decisions!

So, I'm riding on this nasty road, not having eaten, and not having any water with me. And, there is NOTHING to be seen: no roadside stands, no other vehicles, no stores, nothing. I stop after a while and then my bike won't turnover. I knew I should have replaced the battery! But it turned out that the battery cable had shaken loose due to the rough road.

A while later I could hear some noise from the back of the bike. I stopped and saw that my license plate was missing. I turned around to re-trace my path and look for it. As soon as I started, I could hear the noise again. I looked and say the crumpled license plate caught between the swing arm and the rear tire. The heavy load had caused the license plate to catch on the rear tire and tear off.

Finally, I found a roadside stand. They had no water. Amazingly, they had no Coca-Cola! They had warm beer. So, that was it, me drinking a warm Tusker catching a mild buzz while a group of Rendili tribes people looked on. Rendili are similar to Maasai, both in their dress and their language. They wear blankets of bright reds, oranges, and even pink. They stretch their earlobes and they wear ornate necklaces and earrings.

After several hours I finally found a restaurant. The place seemed too big for the remoteness of the area. A man menaced me throughout my meal. He kept handing me a picture that had some writing on the back of it warning of the dangers of 'ganja'. I tried to politely ask him to let me eat in peace. Other people were standing behind him and gesturing to me that he was crazy -- which was actually a relief. When I left he kept saying, "You motherfucker." Well, you can imagine, this bit of the trip was a bit tiring.

Back in the hot desert sun, my bike started cutting out at about 4500rpms. Over time it got worse, cutting out at 4000 then 3500rpms. Carburetor problems, I thought, the one thing I really don't know how to fix.

I stopped at a Catholic Mission, the only place in sight for a long way, in a little village. I found a very friendly Kenyan priest-to-be who gave me water and allowed me to rest.

I rode away hoping that I could make it the 70kms or so to Marsabit. But the bike continued to run rough, and I rode through some of the deepest dust I have ever encountered. I actually surprised myself that I managed to get through it. Finally the bike quit.

This is it, I thought. Never had I had to walk away from my KLR. But, now was the time. It was 4:30pm, there was about 2 hours of sunlight left, and I had about 10-15kms to get back to the Catholic mission. I pushed the bike off the road, packed my most valuable items in my backpack, and locked my Pelican case and jacket to the bike. Then I started walking, feeling a bit nervous and a bit depressed.

Well, I running out of time here, so let me give the brief highlights:

I got picked up by a big dump truck. 6 men and I loaded the bike into the back, which inflicted some damage on the bike.

The dump truck got two flats. So 5 of the men walked for help and I stayed with one guy. So thirsty. At 9pm help arrives.
I'm taken to camp where I receive a warm welcome, food, beer (warm) and a bed!!
The next morning, I clean the aircleaner on the KLR and it runs like a champ. I am a total bonehead. I can't believe I didn't think to try that first!
Ride to Marsabit where I meet some great people and arrange to ride with someone to Moyale. It turns out that the real threat of bandits was in the Osiolo to Marsabit section -- the portion I just rode alone and then starting walking!
Next morning, up at 4:30am -- supposed to leave at 6am with a Land Rover. 6am - No Land Rover. 7am - No Land Rover. 8am No Land Rover. 8:30 - He shows up and says he is going to get some military men to escort us, he'll be "right back." 10:45 - He's back with two men in fatigues carrying machine guns. Now we have to wait for another vehicle.

11:30am we finally leave and it is HOT HOT HOT. Now I know why MOST people leave at 5am. The first 100kms was the WORST road I have ridden on in Africa. I was lucky that a) the Land Rover was carrying my two heaviest bags, and b) I didn't get a flat. It looked like the moon -- barren, flat, burnt-orange dust. As we progressed, the road got better and we were able to make some good time.

We make it to Moyale at 4:30pm and Itay, an Israeli I met in Marsabit, and I head for the border. The Ethiopian officials stay late to process us--they were great. We were both surprised that we had actually made it into Ethiopia that day.

Greetings from Awasa, Ethiopia!

Jim Sowers

Date: 27-Mar-2001 (or 18-July-1993 in Ethiopia)

Hello Friends!

Usually I wait until I reach the capital city to write my journal updates, but since it has been over 3 weeks I thought I had better let you know what was happening.

So, exactly one week later (on Tues. Mar. 20) I again left Nairobi. The first day I reached Karichota, a cabin near Naro Meru owned by some friends. The following day I planned to ride to Marsabit.

I stopped at a Catholic Mission, the only place in sight for a long way, in a little village. I found a very friendly Kenyan priest-to-be who gave me water and allowed me to rest.

Well, I running out of time here, so let me give the brief highlights:

* I got picked up by a big dump truck. 6 men and I loaded the bike into the back, which inflicted some damage on the bike.

* The dump truck got two flats. So 5 of the men walked for help and I stayed with one guy. So thirsty. At 9pm help arrives.

* I'm taken to camp where I receive a warm welcome, food, beer (warm) and a bed!!

* The next morning, I clean the aircleaner on the KLR and it runs like a champ. I am a total bonehead. I can't believe I didn't think to try that first!

* Ride to Marsabit where I meet some great people and arrange to ride with someone to Moyale. It turns out that the real threat of bandits was in the Osiolo to Marsabit section -- the portion I just rode alone and then starting walking!

* Next morning, up at 4:30am -- supposed to leave at 6am with a Land Rover. 6am - No Land Rover. 7am - No Land Rover. 8am No Land Rover. 8:30 - He shows up and says he is going to get some military men to escort us, he'll be "right back." 10:45 - He's back with two men in fatigues carrying machine guns. Now we have to wait for another vehicle.

One month later ...

2001-03-13T23:21:00.000-08:00

Hi Friends,

Sorry for the long delay in updating you. I have had a bevy of emails expressing worry/wonder as to what I have been up to. I realize, especially after some of my road stories, that a long period of silence could cuase some concern. Not to worry, all is fine on my end.

Sometimes in life you are so busy living it that you don't want to stop to document it. So it has been this last month with me--a frenetic pace of activity which I have tried to capture in my personal journal, but have not yet made the time to share with all of you.

I will give you a brief update.

Since I last wrote from the Congo, I returned to Uganda. The drive through Rwanda past the Volcano Park was yet another fantastic ride. The mist rises from the hills where the gorilla still roam.

Back in Kampala, I spent some time with friends, and engaged in my favorite hobby -- collecting music. I wound up at CBS, owner of four radio stations, and wound up being interviewed on Radio Buganda on a music show. The show was in Buganda language, with translations being provided as necessary. Once I showed a real interest in the music, the Ugandas went out of their way to help me in every way, including giving me some great local CDs.

From Kampala, I stopped in Jinja, about 90km east, at the Source of the Nile. Yes, this is where the Nile begins its long journey north to Egypt. I decided to be a typical tourist and took a rafting trip up the Nile. For $65, you get a rafting trip through 8 sets of rapids (three are class 5), a great BBQ at the end of the day, and a night's stay in a lodge.

On the second class 5 rapids, everyone fell out of the raft. I grabbed onto the safety line and then we hit the last portion of the rapids. The raft shot straight up jerked my right arm hard. I had been nursing a shoulder injury I incurred just before I left, and now it was bad. I could hardly move my arm and was struggling to get my head above water. Long story short, I got through and was considering stopping right there, but took a rest and babied my arm as much as I could.

Still, when I got to the lodge, I had serious doubts about how much more travelling I could do. I was depressed. I decided to go straight to Kenya and see a doctor. The next morning I packed my bike, took a quick stroll to the source of the nile (photos are on my site -- link below), and then headed out. As I rode, I thought about how much it took to get me here, and decided, I could bear the pain for a while--I was going to Sipi Falls--Uganda's most spectacular water fall!

I made it to the Crow's Nest lodge which looks directly out over the falls. Who should I meet but a German couple taking their honeymoon on motorcycles--and he way a physical therapist! I am convinced God is watching over me.

He examined me and told me he was pretty sure it was a muscle problem rather than a torn tendon/ligament. Then he gave me some exercises to do. At this point, my shoulder is still bothering me, but it is better than it was, and he gave me the confidence to keep going. (No, I still haven't seen a doctor. I know what she'll say -- put it in a sling for 6 weeks. That can wait :-)

On my way back to Kenya, I had an hour long discussion with a border official about African politics. I don't have time to write about it here, but it was time well spent.

As I rode to Nairobi, off to my right the sun set on the Great Rift Valley -- what a sunset. Ah, but don't take your eyes off the road for more than 2 seconds.

Back in Kenya it was a frenzy of:

Teaching Dance -- I taught a group of dancers, mostly professional, how to dance Cuban-style salsa and rueda. We performed at the Carnivore, one of the top restaurants/clubs in Nairobi. We also did some other Caribbean dances -- the Dollar Wine, Movin' (to the left).
Studying Dance -- I took several classes with Isaac Karanja who is the top African traditional dancer in Kenya. His classes were the most intense I have ever had. Of course, I had to work around my shoulder.
Working on my motorcycle. Kawasaki came through with a shipment of much-needed parts--thanks to Mel Moore at Kawasaki and Gary Kout, an original moonrider. I spent several entire days sweating in the hot Kenyan sun, removing my rear tire, front forks, rear shock, chain, front rim, etc. etc. You get the idea. I was the only dancer that always had grease under his fingernails.
Document documents. Got my visa for Ethiopia! I am literally leaving Nairobi and soon I post this journal entry). Also, got a second Carnet du Passage sent to me from South Africa -- so I can keep crossing borders.
Care Package from my Dad -- which included good socks and earplugs...THANKS DAD!
Road trip to Mombasa -- this was a fantastic little excursion. I'll write more on this later.

Uganda had their election yesterday. It was exciting to witness the build up, but I was glad to be out of the country for the actual election. I could tell things would heat up. I still haven't seen the news, so I don't know what is happening. Is it making the news in the US?

Many of you have asked about the food. The food in Nairobi is great--depending on your budget. Most African countries have some staple foods, which consist primarily of some type of corn meal -- called milli-mil in South Africa, ugali in Kenya, kaunga in Uganda, and nsima in Malawi. It is a thick, bland meal that you eat with your hands and add to each bit some greens (spinach, etc.) and/or meat.

The first few times you have it, it is great. But after a while, it gets old. In Uganda, they eat a lot of matooke, which is basically fried banana paste. Very fattening and a little bland. Either you like it or you don't.

Of course, those places close to water usually have great fish. This was the case near the beach in Mozambique, near Lake Malawi, in Mombasa, and especially in Gisenyi, Rwanda -- great fish in Lake Kivu.

Finally, I want to mention the children. The ongoing heartwrenching issue with my travels is constantly seeing hungry children. I see them in the country and I see them in the city. I think the city children cause me more concern, because there is not the availability of food from the land in the city that there is in the country.

As I mentioned earlier, I don't give out money (except in exceptional circumstances), but I regularly buy children bread, or fruit, or hand out candy. But even this can be dicey. I gave a small boy a piece of cake in Kampala. He was apparently alone, but after I gave him the bread he walked a few yards away and then he was stripped of the cake by some homeless adults.

I remain hopeful that the efforts of the NGOs and charitable organizations, combined with efforts of local governments, will make headway in fight against poverty in Africa. And in particular, Save the Children, is one organization that is making a positive difference in the lives of many children.

Well, I've got to run. I'll try to make my updates a bit more frequent. As for photos, the easiest thing for me to do for now, was to set up a photo album on yahoo. Go to:

http://photos.yahoo.com/jimbosowers

There you will find a series of photo albums with photos from the trip. The albums are by country, and the file names usually give some explanation. The plan is to put these photos into the Moonride site when I return.

You will see a photo of two men holding hands. I included it because here in Africa, it is very common to see men of all ages holding hands--either walking around, or just standing and talking. And it does not mean they are gay--they are just good friends.

The other photo to note is the one of the women walking carrying things on their heads. This photo represents an image I have seen thousands of times. This is how so much food and water and firewood gets moved in Africa.

Take care my friends,

Jim Sowers

Nairobi, Kenya

Greetings from the Republique Democratique du Congo! (email to moonride list)

2001-02-11T23:23:00.000-08:00

Hi Friends!

I realize this is the third email in as many weeks. I promise it will be tapering off dramatically after this--I am not a "spammer."

So, I actually writing to you from Gisenyi, Rwanda at the only connected computer in the only Internet cafe in Gisenyi \GEE SEN EE\.

Gisenyi is a resort town on Lake Kivu just across the border from the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC, fomerly Zaire). I actually spent today walking around the city of Goma, where I had lunch at the home of one of the members of the Rebels and his fiancee--a medical doctor.

I sure that last sentence raised a whole host of questions. I cannot answer them all here. Very briefly, the west of the DRC is controlled by the official government, under which Joseph Kabila replaced his assasinated father, Laurent Kabila last month.

The east of DRC is controlled by the rebels -- the leader resides in Goma.

I am safe. One of my friends accused me in a recent email of not giving a positive picture of Africa, and of overstating the danger to make myself out to be a hero. I hope that is not the impression I am

giving.

As for Africa, there are so many positive things, most importantly the people--by and far so warm and receptive to me. I cannot recount all the homes I have been invited to. To travel alone this deep into Africa, I hope that I have demonstrated my faith in the Africa people. And they have rewarded that faith with kindness, generosity and respect. It should say enough that I had planned for this trip to last 2 months--month 4 starts next week!

I realize that I get frustrated at times, and a bit road weary -- I'll try to keep my reports balanced and remind myself, and you, of the good things too.

As for the danger--I feel little danger here, despite the fact that this country is at war. Obviously there is the presence of many men with guns. But we have that in the U.S., you just never know who has one.

There is one kind of danger I have not overstated--the danger of the road. Driving Africa on a motorcycle is at times terrifying--and Africans are the first to tell me I must be crazy for doing it.

Warm Regards,

Jim Sowers

P.S. Find a map of Rwanda and check out the route between Kigali and Kibuye -- probably one of the most spectacular rides I have ever made. Breathtaking country!

Snippets from Kampala, Uganda

2001-01-31T00:06:00.000-08:00

Jim Sowers 2001-01-31

Writing this at Backpackers in Kampala, Uganda -- www.backpackers.co.ug

If nothing else, you are learning the names of all the capital cities in Africa!

I'm afraid that I probably won't do this journal justice until I return home. I have lost several half-done entries to power failures. Actually, Africa is a lot like the U.S. (especially California) -- questionable election procedures and power failures!

Below is a rehash of what I sent on the moonride email list (www.egroups.com)

--------------------------------------

So, yes, I'm in Uganda, where Idi Amin once reigned terror, and where Ebola occasionally breaks out in the north, and you can see gorillas in the south.

Yet, so many travellers and Kenyans told me that Uganda is a lovely place with great people, so I went for it--and everyone was right.

I am way behind on journal entries please forgive me.

The quick update:

Riding from Tanzania to Kenya, a pickup truck loaded with people in the back turned over directly in front of me. It was pretty horrible, but unfortunately not uncommon in Africa

Saw a Maasai convention near the border -- what a sight. I had no camera :-( (I bought a cheap one in Kenya, so photos will be coming)

Nairobi was too good. They say it is quite dangerous, but so far I have had very good experiences.

Drove to the Kakamega Forest where for the first time I dumped the bike (remember with the goat I kept the bike up). Planted it in massive mud and it took 5 of us to raise it up.

In Uganda, the taxi drivers are viscious -- no other word for it. I call it BMR -- Biggest Man Rules. The taxis pull out to pass or even to avoid a pothole, and they don't budge. I was run off the road 4 times on the way to Kampala.

Arrived in Kampala at rush hour -- ALWAYS A MISTAKE. It was the scariest driving I have seen. Other travellers have told me the only place that is worse in Africa is Lagos.

Watched the Superbowl at the Marine House in Kampala. There were 15 weary Americans trying to stay awake while we talked about the food we missed. The game started at 2:30am local time. I learned when I arrived there that 3 bombs had gone off in Kampala that night--and me at the Marine House, a prime target!!

Have been shown around by some local friends who have gone to great lengths to show me the local culture. Went to a Car Rally (won by a very popular American living in Uganda -- Chipper Adams).

Saw the Afrigo band, Uganda's best

Two hours after I bragged to my moonride buddies that I had not had a puncture the whole trip, I got a flat on the rear.

The flat seems to be fixed and I'm off to Fort Portal. I don't plan to see the gorillas -- even though they only take groups of 6, I think the beasts are better left alone than having daily visits from Mzungu like me.

I stayed at the Backpackers www.backpackers.co.ug -- this is a great site to learn about Uganda, and has plenty of photos in lieu of my own.

Notes from Dar es Salaam

2001-01-24T00:05:00.000-08:00

Jim Sowers 2001-01-24

In my last entry, I had just arrived in Dar es Salaam. I spent the next few days in Dar wandering around chasing down bike parts, a tailor to fix my jacket, a photo shop to develop a roll of film Dotan had given me, dental floss (I hate not being able to floss) and generally trying to get over a cold.

I won't lie, Dar es Salaam is not the nicest city I've visited. It is dirty and there are few buildings that are pleasing to the eye. There is the occasional mosque which is well maintained, and there are quite a few under construction.

Nevertheless, the city bustles. Everyone negotiates. When I showed even the slightest interest in something, the vendor would keep lowering the price to keep me from walking away. Of course, this meant that I had to negotiate EVERYTHING to make sure I was getting a fair price. I was soon as bold as the street vendors. One offered me a belt for $10, an outrageous price, I countered with $1, and we settled at $2!

In Dar there is a large Arab (and Arabic-speaking population), a large Indian (and Hindi- and Punjabi- speaking) population, and a large African (various tribal languages) population--and there are many Muslims from each ethinic group.

Thus, Swahili is the language that binds this diverse group of people together. Virtually everyone speaks Swahili well--Tanzanians are known for speaking excellent Swahili, whereas Kenyans tend to have more English speakers.

Actually I would describe the city as heavily Muslim--many, many mosques, and the majority of men wearing a fez. This made finding a decent pub a lot more difficult than you might think in a place the size of Dar.

I was staying at the Safari Inn, a busy 1-2 star 4-story hotel in the heart of the city just off of Libya Street. It is one of the best places to stay for the money and is quite popular with travellers. About $10 a night for a single.

The little back alley that leads to the motel is filled with people working on their cars. And I'm not talking tune-ups, I'm talking engines pulled out, transmissions in pieces, guys welding truck frames! Well, you can imagine the sights and smells that greeted me each morning as I ventured off into the city.

Then there was a problem with being a white person walking around Dar. Basically, it was eminently obvious that I was a traveller from out of town. Most white people who live here have a car and are not walking around the city. Of course, there are those that work for the various NGOs, but they usually have a good handle on Swahili and can dismiss the hangers-on more easily than I could.

I was constantly approached by young men, saying "Jambo" (Hello). They persistently wanted to know where I was going and what I planned to do. I soon learned that no matter what my day entailed, they were going to assure me that they could get me whatever it was I needed for less money.

I spent some time with a German couple backpacking around Africa, and we joked that "Jambo" meant, "I want to sell you something," or "Give me money."

Perhaps I sound a bit cynical here, but to be honest, I was becoming a bit cynical. I had spent 80+ days of being constantly exposed to people in desparate need, looking at me with eyes that said, "Certainly you can spare a little something for me."

I just want to give you an honest sense of what it is like to wander around the city.

I made a decision very early on that I was not going to hand out money to anyone who did not provide me with a product or service. First, I am trying to give a little something back to Africa through the support of Save the Children. Second, I think handing out money sets a bad precedent except to those that are extremely disabled. And mainly, the number of needy people is overwhelming! It is just easier for my conscience to politely refuse all askers rather than have to be constantly making a moral decision about who to help and who not to.

And the agressiveness and frequency of the people in the streets of Dar was taking its toll--I was struggling to maintain a veneer of good humor.

Nevertheless, the people I dealt with in the various shops and restaurants, the people gainfully employed who were not worried about where their next meal was coming from--they were extremely polite, fair, and honest. And they would go out of their way to help me with whatever I needed, even if it meant sending me to another shop.

I just happened to be staying a stone's throw from the best motorcycle shop in town--in all of Tanzania for that matter--Tuk Tuk (named after the sound a motorcycle makes). This place was no bigger than an overgrown hotdog stand, but they had a bit of everything!

The guys at Tuk Tuk loved seeing the beefer (the moonriders' pet name for the KLR 650). They had a cheap replacement rear tire for me but offered to have a friend of theirs who flies for Air Tanzania, bring a good tire from Johannesburg if I wanted. They were genuinely excited about my trip and practically gave me a spare chain.

I can't begin to capture all that I took in during my time in Dar, but one thing that I really enjoyed was the food. There were quite a few restaurants that were really cheap with tasty dishes--particularly Indian restaurants. And they have coconuts for 20 cents that rival the best I have had in Trinidad.

After spending a couple of days in Dar es Salaam, I was over my cold and ready to head off to Zanzibar--just the sound of it was enticing and the Germans and I decided to head over there together. I had heard that the streets were quite narrow and decided to leave the bike behind (in the well-guarded confines of the Safari Inn.

Oh yeah, did I mention that Dar es Salaam is about as humid a city as I've ever been to. Showering is totally futile.

Some photos from Malawi/Mozambique

2001-01-20T00:03:00.000-08:00

Bridge across Zambezi River (Mozambique)

Bridge crossing in Gorangosa, Mozambique

A GOOD road in Afica!

Termite Hill

Long Update from Dar es Salaam, Tanzania

2001-01-06T00:02:00.000-08:00

Jim Sowers 2001-01-06

Greetings from Dar es Salaam, Tanzania!

Hakuna Matata - which is Swahili for everything is OK. Let me bring you up to speed.

This is a very long journal entry because it has been a while, AND because I found a cheap Internet connection. So, if you're really interested, you may want to print it out and read it when you have some time.

MALAWIAN THEATRE

Right after I sent my last journal entry, the guy working at the Internet cafŽ in Blantyre, Rawley, invited me to go to a play with him. At first I was a bit hesitant, because so often people glom onto me seeking money.

Nevertheless, I went and it was a great experience. First, Rawley wanted nothing from me other than to show me a local slice of Malawian culture. We took the mini-bus taxi to the French Cultural Center-yes, there is a French Cultural Center, but I'm not sure why.

Rawley paid my bus fare and got us into the play for half-price. The total for all this was less than $2, but that is a significant amount of money to a Malawian and demonstrated Rawley's hospitality.

The theatre was an outdoor amphitheatre, about 40 rows deep with concrete seats. This was another of the many African events I would attend in which I was the only 'mzungu' (white person). The audience was primarily neatly dressed, young adults, many of whom were students at the adjacent Polytechnic University.

Rawley walked us up to the very front row, since that was the only place there were seats available. Needless to say, I stood out a little bit--also because I was one of the few people in shorts, and my pale, thin legs made me that much more obvious. (I hadn't dressed that morning thinking I would attend a play.)

There were two plays on the topic of family planning. The event was sponsored by DANIDA, a Danish NGO (non-governmental organization) providing support for in Malawi. Malawi seems to have a plethora of NGOs providing various types of support, and the Danish seem to have a particular interest in Malawi.

Anyway, the first play was about a young woman attending college who could no longer afford the school fees. Her cousin told her to get a "sugar daddy" to pay for her schooling, but she refused to compromise herself, and managed to get a regular job. The cousin wound up getting AIDS from her sugar daddy.

Needless to say the plays were laced with moral lessons, but they were performed by a local group and were really well done. There was plenty of humor injected into the dialog making it fun to listen to rather than preachy.

The plays were in English, but there were many lines also in Chichewa, the local language, which Rawley translated.

The second play dealt with a very touchy subject -- incest. That these types of plays can be presented is a huge leap for Malawi which until 1994 was ruled by a dictator who would not allow the use of any contraceptives. Thus, although Malawi has a high AIDs awareness, they are late in dealing with it and have a 40%+ infection rate.

EXPLORING MALAWI

Obviously, there is so much to tell, so I'll just have to give the very, very short edition for now.

From Blantrye I took a day trip to Mulanje, which is a mountain in the southeastern part of the country. I think it was about 100km from Blantyre, I'm not sure since my speedometer broke on my first day in South Africa.

Anyway, the road was excellent, what a relief, but as always, it was lined with people walking and riding bicycles, goats and cattle grazing, and little kids charging to the side of the road to see the motorcycle.

Perhaps I should explain the curiosity that I am to Africans. First there is the appearance--I am riding a green motorcycle, covered in stickers, with bright yellow saddle bags, a bright orange waterproof case; I'm wearing a red jacket and wearing a helmet with painted flames.

This is quite the spectacle. In addition, my bike sits higher than any bike you will see in Africa, it is louder, and it moves faster than any motorcycle most Africans have seen.

Invariably, police who stop me ask me how fast the bike will go. Of course, the other foreign bikes, of which there are not that many, have big bikes too, faster than mine. But look of the KLR with the stickers and the brightly covered luggage seems to garner more attention. And, I am always waiving to people--police, train conducters, people working in the fields, children, storekeepers--and they almost always waive back. Children often excitedly waive to me first.

Once you are outside the cities and tourist spots, you will find that Africans are very warm, generous and hard-working. Every time I start an early morning ride, there are already people in the fields, planting, harvesting, and driving ox-drawn ploughs.

Again I digress. So the ride to Mulanji was a well-paved road through miles and miles (I can't always be metric) of fields of tea trees (bushes??). The bushes are about 2-3 feet (1 meter) tall, and there were workers picking the tea leaves and putting them in the bags they have slung over their backs.

Even from the road, you can see many waterfalls on the face of the Mulanji mountain. Munlanji itself is not much of a town, but the real attraction is making the three-day hike up the mountain. I hiked up to a waterfall from Likhubula Forest where I got caught in a brief downpour. There worst part about that was dealing with the mud on the ride out of the forest.

GETTING MY GOAT

From Mulanji, I headed back towards Blantyre. From there I would head to Zomba which has a plateau that is another popular tourist stop. About 10km from Blantyre, I slowed down to pass through a village. I tend to go more slowly than other vehicles when passing through villages and towns out of an excess of caution.

After I passed the village I stared to pick up speed, especially because I had a Land Rover right on my tail. The road on either side dropped about 6 feet (2 meters) and a sharp angle.

As I hit about 80kph (50mph) [my best guess based on my rpms], up the the right side of the road appears a herd of goats. (Remember I am driving in the left lane.) I could tell they were going to cross, and goats don't listen to horns.

I knew I couldn't stop so a started to lean to the left, but the first goat was already across the road. I clipped the tail end of the second goat and went flying down the embankment. Two men who were walking on the road ran for their lives wide-eyed to avoid being hit by me. Down the embankment, I sailed into a 3-foot open ditch.

I thought for sure the bike and I were going to go end-over-end. Miraculously, the bike made it through the ditch, and after almost losing it, I rode it to a stop. I couldn't believe--I didn't go down. My Canadian friends would be proud.

I got off and looked at the bike. The front right panel next to the radiator was torn off, but the radiator was intact. The front fork covers were both torn, but the forks and frame looked OK. My right knee was banged up, but no blood. All in all, the bike and I were in fair shape.

I'm pretty sure the goat survived too. I wasn't able to match Jay's animal-splitting prowess :-)

A man in a truck stopped and asked if I was OK. After I told him I was, he asked me about paying for his goat! Let me assure you, those were NOT his goats. But, I kept cool. I knew that a goat costs about 800 kwacha ($10). I estimated the damage to my bike at $150 (12,000 kwacha). I told him I would offset the value of the goat and accept 11,200 kwacha since his goat was on the road and caused the accident.

Needless to say, that was the end of that conversation and I rode off.

ZOMBA

In Zomba the road winds through forest and some bush and is semi-paved. The main problem, as with most African roads, is the width of the road. Add to that, African drivers never seem to consider the possibility that someone might be coming from the opposite direction, so they are always squarely in the middle of the road!

At the top of the plateau is a fancy lodge which has a nice bar. You have to quench your thirst once in a while :-)

In Zomba, I was pleasantly surprised to find a place serving Cafe Lattes called Caboodle's. (I was having Latte withdrawal.) There I met Neville and Rosemary Bevis, an English couple living in Malawi. Neville excitedly approached me and started asking about my bike. He and Rosemary had ridden across Africa on a BMW in 1970!

I learned that they are running the Open Arms Infant Home in Blantyre. Open Arms basically takes babies from newborn to age three and takes care of them until they can be returned to a surviving parent or relative or turned over to an orphanage. They were in Zomba to pick a baby whose mother had died. The grandmother walked 46km with the baby on her back to deliver the child to the hospital in Zomba.

Neville and Rosemary invited me to stay with them in Blantye when I returned.

Also at Caboodle's, I met some American's who spotted my California license plate. They invited me to a Christmas party that evening! The party was put on at the house of Paul and Helen Jones and his wife. They work for Emmanuel International which assists local churches, the organization has about 10 people working in Zomba. (The Jones's also put me up for a night at their house.)

There was a great mix local and foreign children who performed Christmas carols, singing and playing recorders (those plastic flute-like devices that can be a bit hard on the ears :-)

The next night, I attended a small dinner party with Julie Mateer, a volunteer with Emmanuel International, and her sister, Kristy, and their parents, who were visiting from California. Julie's roommate, Suzanne, from Toronto, prepared pasta--ah pasta, how I have missed the food from home.

Afterwards, we had the famous Mateer sugar cookies, and we were in the Christmas spirit.

I forgot to mention, that it was in Malawi that I first started seeing mosques. There has long been a strong Muslim presence in eastern Africa -- Kenya and Tanzania, but it is pushing southward. It was in Zomba that I first heard the amplified prayers emanating from a mosque both at sundown and sunset.

BACK IN BLANTYRE

If you are still with me, you realize that I am not very good at condensing stories. In Blantyre, I stayed with Neville and Rosemary at the Open Arms Infant Home. Their daughter, Emma, had just finished university in England and was spending a few months helping run the place.

Open Arms had 38 babies there at the time. The highlights of the stay included:

* babysitting - you cannot hold one of these babies without feeling compassion for the plight of Africa

* riding with Neville -- he has a BMW R850R, and we swapped bikes. Rode in the POURING RAIN

* shopping in an African meat market -- this will make you a vegetarian

* buying a goat in the village for the Christmas dinner--I missed the slaughter, but saw it being skinned and gutted.

Blantyre to Nanchengwa Lodge (Mangochi, Malawi)

After waiting for over a week for Adam and Dotan to return, and not having any word from them, I decided to head north. I rode to Nanchengwa Lodge which is near Mangochi along the western shore of Lake Malawi.

The road went from decent asphalt to potholes, to dirt. Luckily, it wasn't raining, so the mud factor was avoided. I caught my first glimpse of Lake Malawi on Christmas Eve.

The road basically parallels the shore of the lake about a kilometer away with an occasional sign for a lodge on the lake shore.

I shared my Christmas with some Canadians, English, German, Dutch, and Malawian people. The owners of the lodge, Ron and Cherry Long, prepared a very nice dinner which we ate overlooking Lake Malawi. Dinner included stuffing--something I had been thinking about since my Thanksgiving in South Africa!

Thus, amongst rain, failing computers, intermittent phones, and occasional power outages, we managed to have a very nice Christmas.

On Boxing day, while playing frisbee, I ran as hard as I could into a boat on the beach (not intentionally of course), and smashed my left knee. I'll spare the gory details, but three weeks later it still hurts.

The next day, I somehow let out that I knew a thing or two about Volkswagens, and the next thing I knew, I was up to my elbows in grease helping two Dutch guys work on a beater Bug they bought in Johannesburg.

After that, I worked on the Long's computer, for which they gave me a complimentary night's stay.

SAVE THE CHILDREN IN LILONGWE, MALAWI

From Nanchengwe I rode to Lilongwe, the capital of Malawi.

After I arrived, I chanced upon the local office of Save the Children. As with the office in Xai-Xai, Mozambique, this one was not listed on their web site.

It was Dec. 27, and most people were on holiday, but I found two dedicated women in the office working on program plans for the next year. The office was impressive in that it was clear that a lot of work was being done. In addition, the furniture was functional but not extravagant. I had heard too many stories, and had seen some examples of how the funds for some NGOs went first for eloborate offices, and fancy cars. This did not appear to be the case here.

I spoke for about 40 minutes with Chifundo Kachiza, a local Malawian woman who had previously worked as a nurse. She was now managing STC's community outreach programs for AIDs awareness and prevention. I was very impressed. She was dedicated to here job and to helping her people. And she was realistic. She talked to me about the difference between having condoms widely available versus widely used--that knowing actual patterns of use is difficult.

In turn, I told the women about the Moonrides, about Jason and the other riders, and about our visits to other STC centers in Central and South America. They thanked me for the support and I encouraged them in their work and wished them a Happy New Year.

Other Lilongwe highlights include:

* Being pushed through a river by 10 little boys. No kidding, the bike engine was submerged and it was all we could do to get the bike out of the mud.

* Going to a local concert -- groups from Congo (Zaire), local dance groups, and Lucias Banda (Malawi's top artist). Dances included: gulewankule, mbwiza, and chopa. Jahto, a Malawian singer who worked at the place I stayed, took me to this show with his girlfriend. We had a great time and he taught me a lot about the local music and dance.

* Lilongwe Hotel Bar, Local Band - Jahto sings, I dance, and Israeli guy sits in on drums. I don't have time to tell this story right now :-)

* Don Brioni's Bistro!! This is a great Italian restaurant in Old Town Lilongwe owned by an English man and his Malawian wife. They LOVE salsa music and she had me giving her dance lessons while I was waiting for me meal. Best of all, they accept VISA.

* National Soccer (Football) Championship. The best $0.40 I ever spent!!

On Dec. 30, Jason's birthday, I decided to "go African". I attended the championship game between Civo (from Lilongwe) and MDC (from Blantyre) -- these are rival towns and rival teams. I wanted to experience the game as a local African would.

First, I walked to the game (3km). Then, rather than stay in the VIP section which is covered and cost $4, I sat in the stands (about 90% of the stadium), which are not covered and cost $0.40.

It was blistering hot, and the stands were solid concrete baking in the sun. My anglo anatomy combined with a North American lower tolerance for discomfort made for a long afternoon. The stands were filled with a sea of colorful ubrellas used for shade. I had none and was getting parched. I had wanted to "rough it", but next time I too would have an umbrella :-)

The game included:

* Cheerleaders doing sexy dances

* Acrobats before the game

* Drummers in the stands, and masked men doing the "gulewankule" dance (pronounced GOO LEE WAN COO LEE)

* groups of roving boys singing and cheering

* people being pelted by corn husks if they were standing and blocking others' view -- it was pretty lighthearted though -- nobody got really angry.

* a live band in the covered stands

I had a piece of roasted corn for 8 cents, and a foul, pink drink called Mahewu -- it has the color of Pepto Bismol, the texture of liquified grits, and the taste of ... ? But since, once again, I was absolutely the only mzungu in the entire place, I was being observed. I wanted to make a good impression and forced myself to drink most of the bottle.

The crowd was really well-behaved. The fans for each team were interspersed throughout the stadium. The stadium was absolutely packed with rowdy, singing, dancing, drumming, drinking soccer fans. Yet, I did not see a single fight. I think the rest of the soccer world could take some cues from these Malawians.

After the match, I went onto the field with everyone else as they rushed near the stage and danced to the music. Many people wanted to jump up with me, since I was such an oddity at the event. I was arm-in-arm dancing with some Malawian guys, when I heard the crack of batons and felt the push of humanity against me.

The police were dispersing the crowd, and I was right in the thick of things. Everyone pushed and ran as fast as they possibly could for the other side of the stadium. These batons were not administering justice, but rather delivering blows to anyone in their reach.

With my frisbee in hand, I scrambled onto the fence at the opposite side of the field, it collapsed and I fell to the ground. Quickly, I scurried over the fallen fence and up into the stands, where several of us were looking at each other as we gasped for breath. We just burst out laughing at the absurdity of the whole thing.

Soon everyone, except me, was rushing back onto the field and the whole scene repeated itself. I'm not sure what we did wrong -- perhaps they just didn't want the crowd to get too large or unruly. But it seemed a pretty harsh way to manage the fans.

Lilongwe --> Nkhata Bay --> Karonga

The rainy season was now in full swing for Malawi, Zambia, and Zimbabwe. I hadn't heard from Adam and Dotan and I was having trouble finding an Internet connection.

So, I decided to head north, thinking I might go to Tanzania where they were now in the "short" rainy season.

From Lilongwe I headed to Nkhata Bay which is a popular, yet less visited, stop for travellers in Malawi. There are all types of activites, Scuba, snorkeling, kayaking, hiking, and there are several nice lodges.

Many of the Peace Corps workers were in Nkhata to celebrate the New Year, so I was lucky to find a place to stay--a spot on the floor of the owner's chalet in a place called Mayoka Lodge.

I spent the first half of the evening hanging out with Americans and Europeans, and the late night helping DJ at a local Malawi club that went strong right up until sunrise. Hello new millenium (for the second time)!

In Nkhata Bay, I decided that Tanzania was my next stop. I was now pretty comfortable travelling on my own in Africa, and figured I could sort out any difficulties I had with the bike -- the pressing issue now was finding a new back tire.

So, from Nkhata Bay I headed to Karonga, the last major town before the Malawi/Tanzania border. Along the way it was mostly bush and the road sucked--big potholes everywhere, then some dirt, mud, and sand along with the usual assortment of road hazards.

I was now in the north where Chichewa was not the dominant language, but rather Tumbuka and Tonga. There are so many tribes and languages in Africa, that in a certain sense, the colonial languages serve as a unifying force for some nations.

I spent the evening playing darts with a group of Malawian men. Pretty much the same rules as in the US. I won some and lost some and it was as comfortable as could be. After a while I bought everyone a round of drinks--and the nice thing was, no one had asked me for anything.

TANZANIA

Crossing out of Malawi and into Tanzania took less than an hour and was downright pleasant. I changed some money on the Malawian side -- I have learned my lesson: a) always have an idea of what the fair exhange rate is, b) NEVER enter a country without at least $50 of their currency.

One of the young men with whom I was dealing asked me if I thought the Tupac Shakur (spelling?), the rap artist, was really dead. Clearly he didn't want to believe it was so. I hated to disappoint him, but I responded that many people said that Bob Marley was still alive, but if so, you would think he would have appeared by now.

Everywhere I have been in Africa so far, there are people who are heavily into Reggae, still Bob Marley is immensely popular. In addition, Hip-hop and R&B from America are very popular.

[A note about the use of the term "America". I have on occasion, been scolded by some of my Latino friends for referring to the US as America because Mexico and the Central and South American countries are also part of the "Americas". I agree with them. But almost every time I tell an African that I am from the United States, I get a puzzled look, especially in the rural areas. Then when I say, "America", they smile knowingly and say, "Ah America, Bill Clinton."]

The scenery in Tanzania was beautiful--lush rolling hills of bush and small trees. The road was smooth pavement and a little wider than in Malawi.

Not far after entering the country, I pulled over where there was a tiny open air market of a few vendors offering their wares. This wasn't really a market for tourists, just locals. No one spoke English -- just Swahili. And no one was selling food, other than some vegetables. But after some sign language, a gentlemen led me to a shed where a woman opened a red plastic box and sold me a cold Coca Cola for 25 cents!

Imagine this, in remote Africa, in a Swahili-speaking community, you will find a cold Coke before you will find bottled water! This was not the first time I observed this. When Dotan, Adam, and I were riding through the Gorongosa valley of Mozambique and the knarled dirt road, we came upon a tiny village, and what did we see but a Coca-Cola truck making a delivery. I'm not sure how I feel about Coke's success, but if I wanted to learn how to market and distribute a food product worldwide, I would go to them for advice.

As I drank my cold Coke, I saw for the first time a Masai warrior--slender, angular, black, with elaborate jewelry around his ears, and his sagging, stretched ear lobes. As all Masai do, he was carrying his ever-present spear, and when I waved hello, he smiled and waved back without breaking his stride.

After riding a while, I spotted a gas station, and even though I had plenty of fuel, I make it a habit of filling up anytime I have used more than a quarter of a tank. You never know when the next gas station will be and whether it will have gas.

When I pulled into the gravel drive of the station I almost ran over a new type of road hazard--a six-foot long (2 meter) lizard. No kidding. And to top it off, they didn't have any gas.

I continued on through Tanzania to Iringa, a small, quaint town on a hill with bustling markets and a shoe-shine on every corner. The view from the road up to Iringa was stunning, overlooking a lush valley, and I wondered why the tour books did not make much mention of this city.

In Iringa I stayed at the Hurama Baptist Conference Center. The Center was apparently built for conferences of Missionaries and as a guest house for travellers. I must say it was a welcome oasis, and in true American tradition it had great toilets and a HOT shower -- you would be amazed at what a luxury these things feel like after being on the road for a while.

I ventured out to a local pub for dinner where I had a cat mewing at my feet asking me for food, and where, after serving me, my waitress sat down next to me and asked me to buy her a beer. Only in Africa.

From Iringa, I was headed to Dar es Salaam, about 550km away. For the first time on the trip, I was feeling pretty sick--I caught a cold of all things. A little coffee and toast and I was down the road.

I headed down a mountain pass that would have been downright fun to ride except that, it started to rain, the asphalt was buckled (apparently from too many overloaded trucks) and there were overloaded trucks on the road :-)

The rain cleared up and I stopped in a little town just before the national park. (I can't remember the name). There a man named Henry bought me a Coke and told me he had visited New Orleans and Chicago (he had seen the two cities I have not). He was one of the few people I met in Tanzania who spoke English well, and he helped me learn some more Swahili phrases.

Just before I left, I met the type of person you don't see to often in Africa, someone who is old. People have hard lives here and they simply don't live that long. But this man greeted my with an iron handshake telling me his name was Joseph. He was 81 years old and had fought for the British in Burma in the second world war!

He then told me that his son was going to the U.S. to study. I asked if he meant his grandson. No, his 26-year-old son, told me. So you fathered him when you were 55, I asked? Yes, he smiled proudly.

The next stretch of road greeted me with a large sign indicated that I was entering a national park and to "BEWARE OF WILD ANIMALS". Having been in Kruger National Park (in a closed vehicle), I knew that the animals were not afraid to walk across the road. And the bush was thick here.

So, instead little goats, I had be ready for buffalo, elephant, and giraffe!

Soon I spotted some antelope, which meant lions wouldn't be far away. Come on KLR, I know I've been rough on you, but don't quit now!

I saw some elephant and a giraffe, but thankfully, no lions or chetah.

But the scariest thing I have seen on a Tanzanian road is a Tanzanian bus driver. Whereas the Malawian busses are smaller and in constant need of repair, there are many big, powerful, fast busses in Tanzania. And they are driven with a vengeance.

In Mexico, a bus driver would pass a truck on a flat stretch of road despite seeing me coming his way, and forcing me to the far edge of the road. The Tanzanians go one better. The busses pass big trucks while approaching the top of hill over which they cannot see. I witnessed the aftermath of a bus accident that day!

I saw busses FLYING around corners, tilted to one side, their inside wheels looking as they were about to lift off the ground. On this front I have no pride. When a big bus bears down on me while I'm doing 75 mph (112 kph) I let him by.

And as seems to always the case, the finish is never easy. After crossing Tanzania on virtually flawly roads, the last 6 miles (10km) was a tangled, confused mish-mash of roads under construction with various dusty detours. Once I got through the construction mess, I found myself entering Dar es Salaam during the 5pm rush hour. I had never seen so many mini-van taxis before in my life--and just as agressive as the big bus drivers.

Eventually, I found the safe haven at the Safari Inn in the center of town, just off of Libya street. ($10/night - a little more pricey than the remote places.)

Dar es Salaam is a very interesting mix of African Muslims, Arabs, African Christians, Muslim Indians, Hindu Indians, Masai, and others. A total mish-mash of religions, cultures, and races. I spent yesterday wandering the city shopping for toiletries, bike parts, stickers, you-name-it!

Right now, I'm nursing a cold, but should have it kicked soon.

The bike looks good, the people are friendly, the adventure continues!

Next stop, ZANZIBAR

Jim

P.S. In Dar es Salaam, Internet connectivity is good. After that I don't know. I appreciate all the email and will do my best to answer it (and to get some photos up.)

P.P.S. I finally heard from Adam and Dotan. They got stuck in the bush without gas for 4 days, but finally made it to Pemba. The should be returning to Malawi soon, and who knows, we may be reunited in Zambia or Victoria Falls!

P.P.P.S. Apparently Hakuna Matata was used in the Lion King movie. I never saw it--I know practically nothing about my own pop culture :-)

Holiday Update 2000

2000-12-17T23:57:00.000-08:00

Jim Sowers - Blantyre, Malawi

Hello Friends,

Many of you have sent me concerned emails because it has been so long since I posted an entry. Please don't worry--I'm fine. Connections to the Internet outside of South Africa are rare, expensive, intermittent, and SLOW.

There is so much to write. It is unfortunate that I don't have a laptop, but I honestly don't think it would have survived the trip.

So here's the quick update.

Dec. 5 We leave Durban and head to Mozambique. The boys like to sleep in, they tell me they had enough of getting up early when they were in the army.

So we head out at 11am. The problem is, the sun comes up at 5am and goes down at 6pm -- so we've lost half the day.

We get as far as Swaziland when the sun is starting to set. The Swaziland border crossing was relatively easy, and we are still on good roads.

Since their tent sleeps two, we agree that I will get a room at a backpacker and they will camp out. I stayed at Nisela Safari Game Park where I slept in typical hut on the floor. Adam and Dotan asked some locals if they could camp in their yard, and were invited to stay in the house.

At Nisela, I spent a couple hours talking to the guard, Valpani. He told me that he earns 400 rand a month. He went on tell me that in order to get a wife he must pay the bride's family 17 cows (cows cost 1000 rand).

His brother saved for several years, then paid for his wife. Six weeks later she was hit by a car and killed. No refund. This is the harsh reality of African life.

I think the African wives are worth their price and more because they apparently do much of the work. Everywhere you see women carrying huge containers of water balanced on their heads or bundles of sticks or packages, and on their back is a baby, and in each hand a sack of food. It is amazing how strong these women are and how hard they work.

Dec. 6 -- We are up early for once and head to Mozambique. The border crossing was relatively painless and as soon as we entered Mozambique the scenery changed. It was lush bush and rolling hills, and totally unpopulated and untouched.

The day was blistering hot and humid. We rode into Maputo, but it was dirty and did not have a friendly feel, so we pushed on and at dusk arrived at Xai-Xai.

Again we agreed to split up and re-unite in the morning. To make a long story short, we wound up staying together on a beach -- the three of us cramped into their small 2-man tent. As Dotan said, it was "cozy".

The mosquitoes had a banquet and I was the main course (and apparently a diversion as Adam and Dotan slept unmolested). When I got up, my right hand was very swollen from all the bites I got.

We awoke to a Mozambiquen policeman insisting that we "pay a fine" for sleeping on the beach. It was now my turn to earn my keep as Adam pushed me out of the tent. Somehow, I wore him down, and we got out of there without opening our wallets.

I'm being kicked out of here in 15 minutes so I'll have to make this really brief.

From Xai-Xai, we went to Inhambane, a nice coastal community. The roads were deteriorating, and there is nothing but lush countryside. From Inhambane, we made it to Vilanculos. By now my Portguese was improving. Really nice beaches and marine life in this part of Mozambique.

Then from Vilanculos to Mafanbisse (just outside of Beira) where we stayed on a Sugar Planation (Thank you Mike Haines)

From there we headed through the Gorongosa region on the longest stretch of bad road I have ever encountered. We rode across two bridges that had 2 feet of water pouring over them--when I road my bike across, I could feel it being pushed sideways and steam was pouring off the engine.

We were nearly out of gas in an isolated area in the middle of malaria region.

Finally found gas at a road construction camp and spend the night there. (Thank you Corne du Toit). They just happened to be having a Christmas party that night and invited us -- what luck!

The next day we had a bit of a run-in which is too long to explain here. Let me just say, we headed to Malawi!

More terrible roads. Spent the night on a schoolground after Adam obtained the permission of two local chiefs! We had an audience of about 50 children and young adults watching everything we did -- cook, put up the tent, brush our teeth. They stood about 3 feet away and talked in their native tongue and giggled a lot :-)

Everyone finally went to bed. The next morning the show started again. I felt like I was in a zoo--travelling motorcyclists on display :-)

Dec. 15 We finally hit good roads and ride into Blantyre, Malawi. It is a small city with friendly people and, to my surprise, an Internet cafe!

We got situated at Doogle's Backpackers and then explored the city. That night, I engaged in one my favorite avocations, DJing. Whereas Adam has every spare part he could need for the motorcycles, I travel with 25 CDs I burned with a variety of music. This story will require a separate journal entry when I have more time.

Adam and Dotan wanted to head to Pemba, Mozambique which is at the northern end, where they have some close friends from Israel. I have injured my shoulder and decided to pass on the return to Mozambique -- the sandy and rough roads had taken their toll and I wanted to take it easy and explore Malawi a bit.

So we agreed to go our ways and reunite in Blantyre on Thursday, Dec. 22.

So that's it. It's Sunday, Dec. 17. I'm heading to northern Malawi tomorrow morning and praying that we are all united on Thursday.

From there, the plan is to go to Zambia and then Victoria Falls. (Zimbabwe has fuel shortage right now.)

We wish you all a warm holiday season and a Happy New Year!

I'll try to keep you posted more frequently.

Photos/Notes from Kwazulu-Natal

2000-12-04T23:54:00.000-08:00

Jim in the Kwazulu-Natal Province

The new salsa dancers of Duban, South Africa

Have to make this quick gang. Here are some photos of my friends in Durban, as well as Adam and Dotan, the Israelis I have hooked up with.

The first is at a "braai" \BRI\, a barbeque party at Fay and Francois' house in Durban. Can you tell that Francois is a surfer?! Anyway, after a few drinks they convinced me to give some salsa lessons and there were plenty of enthusiastic students.

The second photo is of Dotan presiding over one of his dishes. He is not a trained chef, but he just gets in the kitchen and starts going through the refrigerator and cupboards, and next thing you know you are eating some incredible 4-course meals. I never knew how good soup could taste (broccoli and mushroom).

The only drawback according to Fay is that he leaves the kitchen a complete mess. He is the only one who is allowed to commit this sin in their house.

The next photo is of Dotan, Adam, and myself near the top of Sani Pass, which is in the Drakensberg (mountainous area), right at the Lesotho border. In fact, right after we reached the pass and crossed the border, we had a drink at the "Highest Pub in Africa".

The last photo is at a waterfall in the Sani Pass. That water is flowing from melting ice! But, as usual, the Israelis jumped in first, so I had to hang tough and show that an American could handle anything they could. (Yes, ladies, Adam is available.)

We rode up to Sani pass and had a drink at the Highest Pub in Africa.

Gotta run.

Jim

P.S. Adam was able to diagnose my bike and after a little carburetor work, it looks like we're in good shape. Next stop, Mozambique.

----

Dotan is a great chef (and welder too)

Near the top of Sani Pass in the Drakensberg

Jim and Adam - that water is COLD

Dotan and Adam -- the Israeli adventurers

2000-12-04T23:51:00.000-08:00

Jim 2000-Dec-04

Dotan Ram and Adam Shani

Meet Dotan and Adam. As I mentioned in the earlier journal entry, I met these guys in Coffee Bay and convinced them to let me tag along.

We have now spent over a week together and it has turned out really great.

Dotan is a 27 year-old farmer from a Kibutz in Israel. In addition to being a fantastic cook and a great welder (what a combination), he is an officer in the Israeli army. This is his first big trip away from Israel.

Adam is 25 and also farms on a Kibutz, not far from the one Dotan lives on. They attended the same schools as children. Adam spent the last two years working in the US as a motorcycle mechanic (can I pick riding partners or what!). He is also an officer in the Israeli army.

Given what has been going on in the middle east, travelling with these two has been very interesting. They are here to learn and enjoy and make the most of their trip--because they can literally be called home on a moment's notice.

So, you may be asking what is my contribution. Well, I am the designated dance instructor and computer guy. In addition, I am their appointed lawyer which basically means I get to fill out all their papers for Visas, etc. Dotan says he doesn't even like writing in Hebrew, let alone English!

Pray for Peace in the Middle East.

ZigZagging South Africa

2000-11-30T23:48:00.000-08:00

Jim in Durban, South Africa

Hi Friends,

First, I got word from Steph that she is safely back in Switzerland.

I can tell you now that the website updates are going to become less frequent (and will not feature photos until after the trip--sorry, I'll try to be entertaining.)

Connections are getting hard to come by and will be even more so as I continue.

Here is a very brief synopsis of the past 10 days.

When last I worte I was in the Drackensburg planning to take a 3 day hike and sleep in caves. I woke the next morning (at 4:30am as I have been every day?!), and it was cold and damp.

So I said to myself, "Self, let's get outta here." By 6am I was down the road not sure where I was heading.

Long story short, I rode through some beautiful mountains, an area called the Golden Gate (just like San Francisco), then through Lesotho.

Lesotho is a separate country, known as the Mountain Kingdom, so this was my first border crossing and it was painless!

Lesotho is the country with the highest low point. Think about it :-) As I exited Lesotho the immigration officers asked me how long I had been on the road. When I told them I left in mid-October, they were very curious to know if I had voted in the presidential before I left.

I was embarrassed to admit that between preparing for my trip and other commitments that it was one of the rare times I had failed to vote. But I did advise them that my conscience was somewhat clean since I was not a resident of Florida, and I had planned to vote for Nader :-)

Anyway, I finished the day riding 60km on a dirt road before landing in the tiny town of Burgersdorp! I found a room, had a bath, a hot meal, and hit the sack.

The next day I planned to head to Namibia, but then again, I thought that I didn't want to be stuck at a border on Thanksgiving. I had heard that Coffee Bay was a beautiful coastal spot, so I headed down there.

Coffee Bay is in what is known as the Transkei, a beautiful region in on what is known as the "Wild Coast" of South Africa.

On Wed. night, Nov. 22, I arrived at the Four Winds backpackers run by a very nice couple, Chris & Laura Venter (and their daughter Blaze). There were a couple of guys from Israel staying there who had started on motorcycles(Honda XR 600) in Cape Town about the same time as Steph and me, and they were riding all the way home.

The Israelis, Adam and Dotan, both work as farmers on Kibutzes. In addition, Adam had just spent two years in the US working as a motorcycle mechanic.

We became fast friends and on Thanksgiving which was a non-event for everyone but me, we went trail riding with some local guys. The ride was great and we got to see some great beaches and visit some local villages.

The bad news is I lost my digital camera (which isn't even mine--it was a loaner, I'll replace it Carlton). Like a dope, after taking a picture I didn't zip my pocket it all the way, and that was all she wrote.

Later that day we went to a place known as the Hole in the Wall. It is a big rock on the coast line with a hole about 20 yards (meters) high through which the sea crashes giant waves. You can stand right on the edge and feel the waves crash past.

I would suggest doing a search online and trying to find a photo of it. It is really fantastic.

Friday was rainy so we visited every bar in Coffee Bay, which means going to all the other backpackers (hostels). Friday night Dotan prepared a nice Shibbat meal. The boy can cook!

By now, Adam and Dotan had invited me to travel with them, and I was happy to accept. I have done enough travelling alone to last a lifetime. The best experiences in life are the ones shared with family and friends, be they new or old.

So on Sunday, we headed to Durban. Peter, a guy we had met at Four Winds, told us about some friends of his, Francois and Fay, who had a big house in Durban and would love to have visitors.

The ride to Durban was wet, foggy, cold and miserable. But what was waiting for us at the end of the road was well worth it. Francois and Fay are fantastic people. They are my age but their kids have moved out of the house already (you can tell I'm getting a late start in life :-) So they were used to having people running around and you could tell they were really excited about our adventure.

I couldn't have asked for a better connection than Francois. He is a computer network specialist, a top notch surfer, a solid frisbee player, an excellent Djembe drummer, drives a '74 Volkswagon van, maintains his own web site, has shoulder length hair, and is generous to a fault.

His wife Fay is beautiful, lively, and thrilled to show us around the town where she has spent her whole life.

Sometimes one good connection can make all the difference.

So, basically we have spent this week surfing, body surfing, playing frisbee, and eating BBQ (called a brai here).

We also went swimming in the "sea pool" which is this cement swimming pool right on the beach. You stand on the wall closest to the waves and hang onto a chain between the rails as the waves crash against you until you finally get knocked into the pool. What a riot.

Since I'm riding with Adam and Dotan, I'm following their agenda which takes us next to Mozambique. We got our Visas yesterday (lucky for us there was a consulate here in Durban).

The roads are not good in Mozambique, they had massive flooding there earlier this year. Likewise, Internet connections will be very difficult to find in what is one of the poorest countries in the world.

Today is Thursday, November 30 -- Happy Birthday Mom! We plan to try to see some Zulu dancing later today (although it is cold and wet). The weather all over South Africa has regularly taken fairly dramatic turns.

Friday we plan to ride up to Sani Pass and have a drink at the "highest pub in Africa".

We should be off to Mozambique on Sunday. So, I will try to check-in once more before we leave. After that it may be a while.

I wish I could be providing pictures, but for you more resourceful types, I will bet that somewhere on the 'net, there are aleady pictures of every place I have mentioned.

Warm Holiday Wishes from Durban, Kwazulu-Natal Province, South Africa

Jim

---

A couple of photos for you.

hole in the wall, courtesy Francois

4 winds backpackers at Coffee bay , Transky , Wildcoast.

Coffee Bay from the hill.

Greetings from Kwazulu-Natal

2000-11-20T23:46:00.000-08:00

Jim - in the Northern Drakensberg, Kwazulu-Natal

Well, in my last journal entry, which I wrote just about 10 hours ago, I predicted I would be offline for awhile, but low and behold, the "Amphitheater Backpacker" has a computer and modem!

I'm high in the Drackenberg mountain region of the Kwazulu-Natal province of South Africa. Very rural and green.

Although I cannot attach my digital camera to the computer, they already had a picture of the place on their computer, so that is what you see in this entry.

There is lots of hiking up here as well as the waterfalls I mentioned earlier. But I just arrived after a 5-hour ride from Pretoria. So no time to see anything as yet.

I've just been invited to go on a 3-day hike, so I may really be offline for a while.

The other trip that has been highly recommended is to Lesotho \LAY SU TU\. Lesotho is a "kingdom" and a separate country, as is Swaziland. They have their own passports, money, embassy, etc.

Lesotho is very rural--no phones, electricity, etc. and several backpackers told me it has been the highlight of their trip--so sounds like my next stop.

It looks like I may be in the bush come Thanksgiving--this will be one to remember.

Enjoy your hot meals and think of me camping high in the damp, cold mountains of South Africa :-)

Report from Kruger Park

2000-11-19T23:45:00.000-08:00

Jim - still in Pretoria

Well friends, this trip has definitely had its share of setbacks. But alas, things are looking up.

Whenever I get a bit down, I email my old buddy Bobby Wallace and he sends me an uplifting message along with some lyrics from a Soca tune from Trinidad and I brighten right up.

So what's been happening?

I'm writing this on Monday morning, Nov. 20.

I spent last week on "safari" in Kruger National Park on the northeast coast of South Africa.

I travelled with a Peruvian-Canadian woman who works for the UN in the Congo, an Australian girl who just finished high school, a German man who just finished his degree in music and will be heading to a choir competition in Cape Town, and our guide, Len Bushman, a white man born and raised in southern Africa who has never been off the contient--and boy does this guy know the wilderness!

So, we were a rather unlikely group, not your usual bunch of twenty-something backpackers. But we got along brilliantly and the mix made for some interesting perspectives and discussions.

Our first night we spent at a native village called "Nyani Village". At first I though it was going to be a bit hokey. But it turned out to be really excellent.

It was an authentic African village preserving how people had lived for a long time. We learned how to make incredibly strong rope from plants, about milling corn, how they trapped birds, and some African games of skill.

And there was my favorite activity, dancing. They had a group perform for us and taught us some of the steps.

We slept in huts with floors made of cow dung--I put a mat between me and the floor :-)

We also learned some interesting facts about the culture. For example, each husband would have many wives--this was because, due to war, there were more women than men in a village. So the men would have more than one wife. But no wife was shared, and here is the interesting part, the number one wife gets to choose the other wives--so as to avoid any jealousies and conflicts.

Our meal was a delicious mix of corn meal, pumpkin, spinach, chicken, and tomato sauce, which we ate with our hands. Then, it was time to sit around the fire singing, telling stories, dancing, drumming, and playing some goofy riddle-type games that had me laughing hysterically. (I just can't explain it).

The next morning, after giving my newfound friends some frisbee lessons, we headed down the road for Kruger park.

We made a couple of scenic stops along the way. One was "God's Window" which overlooked a beautiful tree-lined valley. Another was "Potholes" which was a river flowing into some very stange rock formations that looked like, well, giant potholes.

Then we reached Kruger.

Kruger is a game reserve that is larger than Israel! It is open space where the animals can roam freely with a smattering of fenced-off camps where people can sleep overnight--either in tent or in little bungalows.

Motorcycles are not allowed--literally, lions will chase you down and eat you. And we saw a few of the awesome beasts.

As soon as we entered the park we saw all sorts of animals roaming about: impala, tree squirrels, giraffe, hippos, baboons, zebra, turtle, wildebeast, wart hogs.

Now I should tell you that we were, like everyone else, in search of what is known as the "Big Five" -- the five most dangerous animals to man:

1. Lion

2. Buffalo (not what North Americans thing of, but a giant beast which has horns that look like they are formed with a giant part in their foreheads.)

3. Elephant

4. Rhino

5. Leopard

They say of the five, the leopard is the shyest and the hardest to spot (no pun intended).

Interestingly, the South African paper money has five denominations, each of which has one of the big five on them, and the hardest one to spot is the biggest bill, the 200 rand note, which features, you guessed it, the leopard.

Our guide told us that it should really be known as the big 6 and include Hippos since they kill more humans than all the rest--mostly because people won't leave them alone.

Well, on our trip we spotted all but the Buffalo. But they tell us, 4 out of 5 is pretty good. I tried to find a computer where I could hook up my camera and upload some pictures, but had no luck.

We went on a night drive because, contrary to the song, the lion does not sleep at night (nor in the jungle for that matter). The lion hunts at night, and we saw several out and about. Didn't actually see them bring down a zebra though -- oh well, I'll have to satisfy my bloodlust watching violent American movies.

By the time we returned to Pretoria on Friday, I was feeling pretty run down.

So, the timing was good, because while I rested this weekend, it rained and rained. And it got cold. The weather here is as unpredicatable as it is in San Francisco.

But, as I type this it is sunny and I am about to head out to the Drakensburg, an area of South Africa in the mountains where the worldest 2nd highest waterfall exists.

I'll keep you all posted.

Thanks for all the emails of encouragement.

Steph should be sending me something soon about her adventures during her return to Cape Town which we'll get posted as soon as we can.

I may not be back online before Thangsgiving. Hopefully, I will find some North Americans with whom I can share our wonderful tradition.

Have a wonderful Thanksgiving and know that my thoughts and love are with all of my family and friends who are so far away.

God Bless,

Jim

For Everything There is a Reason

2000-11-12T23:44:00.000-08:00

Jim Sowers - Pretoria, South Africa

I've got to write fast, because I'm on a slow, unreliable connection in a little 'backpacker' [hostel] called the North-South located in Pretoria.

Here's the very quick update.

Steph was starting to feel ill again at the end of the Cave tour we took on Thursday--it was pretty strenuous.

Once in Port Elizabeth, she had a full-on relapse, throwing up in the middle of the night and feeling very weak.

Nevertheless, she was determined to make it to Pretoria by Sunday in order to make the tour of Kruger Park we had already booked (and paid for).

She decided that rather than ride, she would take the bus to save her strength. She insisted that I ride ahead.

Steph had been fighting this bug for two weeks now, and I knew that if she rested she would be OK, but she refused to let me wait for her.

So, I headed out on Friday morning at about 9a.m.

I rode for the next 10 hours through farmland in an area known as the Karoo. It is beautiful country, but basically a long, straight, boring, blistering hot, incredibly windy ride! (Like riding the 5 freeway between LA and San Francisco, only with massive wind gusts.)

And to top things off, my bike started cutting out on me--something to do with the heat.

750 kilometers later I stopped in a very small town called Winberg and checked into the only guest house I could find.

I immediately called the Calabash to see if Steph had gotten onto the bus OK. But, alas, she was still there.

We spoke, and she informed me that she had seen a doctor (her third on this trip) and he said that she had some type of intestinal bacteria and that he advised that she go home.

Now, don't everyone get alarmed. Steph is weak, but she is OK. We decided to downplay it at first, because we didn't want everyone worrying, and we thought it would pass.

But Steph realized that it was more serious than she originally thought and decided that returning home is the right thing to do.

We talked about how to proceed and both decided that I should continue on to Pretoria while Steph would head back to Cape Town at her own pace.

So, it is Sun. evening. I'm leaving for Kruger tomorrow morning. Steph is headed home, and assures me she will email me if she needs any help.

My bike is still giving me a hard time, so I will assess my situation when I get back from Kruger and keep everyone apprised.

Thanks for your email support. Even though we don't manage to answer them all, we really appreciated receiving your messages.

Down the Garden Route

2000-11-10T23:42:00.000-08:00

I'm writing this at about 8pm in the only Internet cafe I could find in Port Elizabeth, South Africa.

Today is Friday. Yesterday, Steph and I decided to spend an extra day at the Fairy Knowe (Little Hill) backpacker since, just an hour away was a fantastic attraction -- the Cango Caves.

So, we make the right up through the mountains on some beautiful roads with sweeping turns--a biker's delight.

Once we arrived at the Cango Caves, we had a choice of Standard or Adventure tour. The adventure tour requires "a degree of fitness, thin people only".

Well, despite the politicallly incorrect ad for the adventure tour, we went for it.

The two groups started together, and initially there were well over 50 tourists, mostly multiple-camera toting Europeans with translators echoing the guide's every word.

The Cango Caves are spectacular. The first one we entered was 100m x 50m (the size of a football field). They used to have concerts in it!

Anyway, my writing can't do the caves justice, but we will try to get some photos up soon.

At some point, the guide asked the "adventure" tourers to step to one side. Much to our delight, there was only a total of five of us. And it turned out that yes, you do need to be thin--and agile. We were soon crawling, and squirming, and scaling, and sliding the circuitous labyrinth of the caves.

Definitely a day well-spent!

I forgot to mention, that this neck of the woods has loads of ostrich farms. So, after riding past all those ostriches, I ended the day with a nice ostrich fillet. (Steph stuck with beef ribs.) The ostrich tasted more like beef than anything--not gamey. I hope there is never an outbreak of mad-bird disease :-)

This morning, we rode for about an hour to Plattenburg Bay which is renowned for the schools of dolphins nearby. We hung out on the beach for a couple of hours and did some body surfing, but alas, no dolphins joined us.

Then, we spent a few more hours heading along the coast to Port Elizabeth, a big coastal town in the Eastern Cape Province.

We basically have two pretty big days of riding ahead of us so that we can get to Pretoria by Sunday evening. Monday morning, we will be picked up by an adventure tour company for a four-day trek into Kruger Park where we hope to see all of the "big five" (I'll explain later.)

Keep the emails and support coming!

- Jim

Liftoff!

2000-11-08T23:39:00.000-08:00

Well, this entry has to be quick, because there is a line waiting for the lone computer here at the Fairy Knowe Backpacker (Hostel) in Wilderness, South Africa. (Yes, the name of the village is Wildnerness).

Steph has conquered the intestinal bug that had her down for over a week, and we made our exit from Cape Town today!

We got a late start because we had to get everything packed up and make one last run to the Internet cafe.

This is the wild part! Yesterday, I was at the Internet cafe when a guy came in and asked who the KLR 650 belonged to. When he was directed my way, he introduced himself as Marc Forrest.

He said that a few years ago he had been following a group of guys who rode their motorcycles from California to South America, and asked if I was familiar with them.

Was I familiar?! I'm one of them!

It was incredible. He had followed our entire trip; he knew the stories; he knew all about Jay. He had even emailed us and both Gary Kout and I had responded.

Sure, we had a lot of people following us on that trip, but were the odds of running into someone in Cape Town, South Africa!

Anyway, Marc is a bit a wildman himself. He's from Ashland, Oregon but he travels the world fishing. Check out his site:

http://www.mind.net/basile

So, back to Steph and me. When we were finally packed up, we made our way out of the motel and got all of 100 meters when she got a short in her bike.

But, with a little electrical tape, she had it fixed in no time. We made our way to African Adventures to make reservations for Kruger Park, and then we were off!

We finally headed out of Cape Town at around 1:30pm (on this my 20th and her 19th day in Cape Town).

We headed out the N2 and the landscape rapidly changed. I'm afraid I'm not the writer Gary is, but just let me say it was a beautiful ride--and VERY WINDY.

My speedometer cable broke after 50km so not sure how far we got. We took a leisurely lunch in Caledon and then headed along the "Garden Route" until we got to Wilderness. Did a bit of riding at night--plenty of bugs :-)

Gotta Run!

We on the road!!!

Thanks for your patience and support.

Jim Sowers

Flexibility is the Watchword of Adventure Travelling

2000-11-04T23:38:00.000-08:00

Jim

Well, by now you are no doubt wondering why there aren't reports and photos from somewhere other than Cape Town!

So here is a brief update on the situation.

First there was the SNAFU with our bikes. It took us from start to finish, 13 days to get our bikes through customs with the proper paperwork issued.

Happily, Steph and I are both in possession of Carnet de Passages (essential docs for crossing borders) and our motorcycles!

Along the way, I needed to get my Tempory Resident Permit extended which involved a separate bout with the bureaucracy. This time it was the Department of Home Affairs. When I write the book about this later, I think it will be a comedy!

Also along the way, I discoverd that my video camera broke in transit. Sorry folks, it looks like there will be no post-trip video online. But, the way things are going (see my Cape Point journal entry), soon every tourist spot will offer its visitors the ability to send video home--no need to schlep your own equipment.

We had planned to leave town on Friday, November 3, but Steph has still been feeling under the weather. Nothing too major, but we decided to wait until she was really feeling full strength before taking off.

So, we have had to face some challenges, but we are eager to do some exploring and share our experiences with our friends.

After talking with many experienced travellers and Africans, we are considering cutting back our trip significantly. Many conditions have changed significantly in recent years, and the recent outbreaks of ebola in Uganda and cholera in South Africa have also come into play.

Given the delays we have already endured, we realize that crossing Africa will involve so many factors beyond our control, that we simply may not have the time to achieve our original goal.

Nevertheless, we are learning a lot about the culture here, and are still having a great adventure!

Cape of Good Hope Excursion

2000-11-03T23:31:00.000-08:00

Well, we finally got our bikes, but now that we had conquered (more or less) the bureaucrats, the bacteria struck back.

Steph caught a bug that has been going around, nothing major, but it had her making frequent trips to the bathroom and a bit weak.

So, with Steph's blessing, I headed south to the Cape of Good Hope, the very tip of the continent where the Indian and Atlantic oceans meet.

First, I should tell you, I have not seen a bad road in South Africa so far, so I was glad I opted for more street than off-road tires.

The drivers are pretty agressive, but no nearly as crazy as I have seen in Latin America :-)

I did have to keep telling myself, "Stay on the left, stay on the left." It's more difficult when there are no other vehicles around to remind me of which side of the road to be on.

The southen portion of the Cape is a Nature Preserve and there are large portions of open space. It reminded a bit of riding to Tierra del Fuego, because of the way the rocks jutted out of the ocean at land's end.

There are two spots which everyone visits--the Cape of Good Hope, the actual point where the Indian and Atlantic oceans come togther, and Cape Point, a kilometer or so away, where the light house was built to guide the ships around the Cape.

To be honest, this probably the best day of the trip so far for me, because I was finally doing what I set out to do, discover some new turf on my motorcycle, and get away from computers, the Internet, cell phones, etc.

But wouldn't you know it, those crafty South Africans had an email station set up at Cape Point! For R30 (about $4) they will take your photo digitally and send it to 4 of your friends. Does the Internet mark the end of an era, where you actually can "get away from it all"?!

Baboon on the road to Cape Point

Ostriches - Cape of Good Hope

Indian Ocean surf

In Search of Music

2000-11-02T23:30:00.000-08:00

In search of Music (11/02/00)

jim

While Steph rounded up her motorcycle, I decided to check out the music scene in Cape Town.

I headed downtown. On Long street, famous for its club scene at night, I found The African Music Store (see photo) where I met Mark, the owner, and Pisce.

The were great guys and since I always have music in tow, we starting taking turns playing musical selections, much to the amusement of the customers.

I learned about a relatively new style of South African music called Kwaito, which I can't really do justice by describing, but I'll try to update this later with some examples of artists' music that can be purchased online.

Then I headed to Roots, Inc. -- a second story, one-room Reggae store run by two brothers, Levy and Judah, who both DJ and love reggae music.

Once again, the "SpinCycle" musical exchange continued :-)

This time, we had a little dance party going on. It was hilarious. There is an internet cafe on the same floor, and the patrons started drifting over to Roots to check out what all the hooplah was.

Levy in the Roots, Inc. Music Store

Taking Advantage of Cape Town

2000-10-29T23:28:00.000-08:00

by stephanie

We decided to at least see what Cape Town has to offer and go check out "Table Mountain". This is a mountain range just behind Cape Town with walking trails and a great view of the town, surrounding villages, and Atlantic Ocean.

After a quick ride up in the trams, there are a bunch of trails to follow ranging from a 15 min loop to a 2hour hike down the mountain back to Cape Town. We opted for staying up top and enjoying the view.

Our first encounter was with a little lizard - a very colourful little thing as you can tell. After about 5 minutes, we came across this beaver/marmot type thing (called a Dassie) who was not shy nor afraid of this massive outpouring of tourists.

Once we had viewed the wildlife, we sat back to take in the view, which was extraordinary. The neighbouring little towns had lavish white beaches, with the Ocean lapping aqua-blue waves.

After a nice lunch, we headed back down in the revolving tram (I think it's to make sure that everyone gets to see the view as it spins around) and made our way back to town.

Forget the Animals -- It's the Bureacracy that will Kill You

2000-10-28T22:20:00.000-07:00

So, after spending a nice Sunday at Robben Island, we were ready to get our bikes and get on the road as soon as possible.

On Monday, Oct. 23, we each contacted our respective shipping agents to get the process of clearing our bikes through customs going.

We soon learned that we had some unexpected hurdles to clear, which in the end boiled down to the same old thing--MONEY.

A brief summary: Normally, people who import vehicles for their own use that they plan to drive out of the country have something called a Carnet de Passage \KAR NAY DUH PASSAJ\

It is a document that a vehicle owner obtains through his or her local auto club by depositing 20-50% of the vehicle's value on account. When he returns with his vehicle and the Carnet, he gets his money back.

Many European countries use them as does Africa. USA does not use them nor issue Carnets.

We were aware that many African countries use Carnets, but were told by several sources, including the South African embassy, that because America does not issue them, they waive this requirement.

But, in lieu of a Carnet, they wanted me to put down a deposit of approximately 25% of the value of my bike. Oddly, Stephanie would be required to only deposit 2%. We didn't bother to point out the discrepancy for fear we would cause ourselves more difficulities.

Although the deposit would resolve the issue with South Africa, the authorities here have suggested that we would face the same situation at other borders, and that some would require a deposit as high as 3 times the value of the bikes! [e.g. Egypt]

We learned that we could get a Carnet issued locally by the Automobile Association (AA), which would resolve many issues, but send us into yet another paper morass.

Nevertheless, one of the distinct benefits of getting the Carnet issued locally in South Africa is that it would apply to Kenya and Egypt, countries that are normally not covered by Carnets issued outside of Africa.

In order to get the Carnet, we had to deposit 100% of each bike's value into a bank. This of course meant a) getting estimates of the bikes' values, and b) getting the money.

Steph had an estimate of her bike already. I had to send a frantic email to some friends requesting them to get me an estimate.

As for the money, the quickest (but not cheapest) thing was to take a cash advance on my Visa card. (And in the end, this wasn't that quick anyway!)

So, we got the estimates. We set up accounts. Indeminities were issued against the accounts. Carnets are being processed. THIS IS STILL GOING ON--you would not believe how many details I am leaving out here.

Long story long. We should have Carnets by Tuesday, and our bikes by Thursday (there's still the customs agents to deal with). No promises on the timing, we're doing everything we can. We hope if nothing else, that other potential adventurers are reading this and learning!

More later.

Note the second photo for this entry is of a public taxi--a van that people ride for R2.50 (about 30cents). We have been spending a lot of time shuttling between offices in these things.