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Moscow Notes

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10 days in Moscow; it starts with a child like excitement to meet the loved ones of my special lady. But also to see, hear, smell and try things in a legendary place with so much going on. It ends with some kind of hard-to-get-rid-of hung over, exhausted, and somehow defeated feeling.

I have no doubt Russians, check that, Moscovites, are strong. You have to be strong to endure the long and energy sucking commutes to, from and within this megalopolis. I grew up in and around New York City, I’m Lisbon guy deep in my heart, but the roads, metros, buses, sidewalks of Moscow are another animal altogether.

But never mind the city for a moment. Let’s talk culture and attitude.
14650454532_25875b32cc_zSo often you feel like a citizen of the world in one of those international destinations that people have been talking about for generations. You feel like you’re in the heart of a creative-living-breathing machine that is and will continue to be a major player on the world stage. That means as much economic, as it does social, and cultural. And despite what you may have heard in the media and what you may hear from the people themselves, it is not exclusively scary or unfamiliar. Whomever you are in this world today, of course you have things in common with the average Russian.

But ok, then there are the other occasions. Times when you feel like you’ve landed in another time. 10, 20, 30 years behind in terms of accepting people for being different when in comes to sexuality, ethnicity, or religion. So often someone’s views on the world are reminiscent of something someone’s preachy, no-nonsense, know-it-all father back in New Jersey used to say when I was a kid. It can be daunting, worrying, and disappointing. I arrive thinking we are all neighbors and part of the human family, but I’m confronted by individuals who see themselves as separate, unrelated, and worst of all – under siege by the judgement of much of the world.

Siege mentality, as you probably know, can be very dangerous and destructive. Never mind who’s fault it is or how it came about for the moment, that it exists to some extent among such an important group of people in this world, that alone is cause for concern and lament.

Let us come back to the city. I learned of its history. More than I ever knew before. I saw great beauty and impressive achievements of this rich culture. Special credit here to the Cosmonaut Memorial Museum, which not only covered Russian space achievements in impressive detail, but also acknowledged the global effort to go further and do more in space.  On the lighter side of being able to laugh about the past, I had the hilarious pleasure of playing the best and worst of Soviet era video games at the Soviet Video Game Museum. A topic close to my heart as a boy who grew up loving the arcade culture of the United States in the late 80’s and early 90’s.

I have to mention but I won’t really talk about food. You don’t want to hear my glowing review of the food you find in the Russian capital. Perhaps they don’t deserve credit anyway, like my home city of Amsterdam, my favorite of their treasures are often from other countries and other cultures. Special thanks to Georgia, Thailand, and Vietnam among others.

Part 2 – The Journey Home

Just as all these and other bits and pieces played and re-played in my head awaiting the already delayed flight at Demededovo Airport, the unthinkable was happening a few hundred kilometers away. On the board we can see delays tagged on to every flight, which we thought might just be the poor performance of the airport on this day. After take off we watch the little flight map and I point out “Minsk” as we fly over Belarus on our way to a stopover in Zurich.  Another complex country that it would be fun to visit one day soon.  Upon landing there is a general grumbling on board from passengers who are worried about their connecting flights and pushing their way to the exit.

Though I consider myself an expert in metal detectors and ex-ray machines, somehow this machine beeps on me. A young Orange-is-the-New-Black looking security guard takes me into a cubicle for an individual scan. “Where are you coming from and where are you going” he asks in a matter of fact way. -Moscow. Heading to Amsterdam.- I tell him. “Oh, Amsterdam.” He suddenly drops the tough security attitude that didn’t seem to fit anyway. “Did they tell you anything on the flight?” – Just that we will make our connections and not to worry.- I tell him. “Oh, well, because something happened. A plane was shot down over Ukraine. On its way from Amsterdam or Antwerp, something like that.” – All I kept thinking was that this was some kind of security lie to test my reaction. In my tiny mind I believe airport security’s only aim is to annoy and delay me and they will use any means necessary (and have). I stare at him for a few seconds and it becomes clear that this is no elaborate plan. He is being real with me. This really happened. An entire commercial jet full of people was shot down and destroyed by some assholes on the ground with sophisticated military equipment.

A minute later I’m just about at the next gate for boarding, a bunch of older gentleman rudely rush past me seemingly mad at the airline for slowing them down. I want to slap them, shake them, and tell them what has happened. For some irrational reason I believe doing this would make them be polite, solemn, and focus on the fact that people traveling just like us today, were suddenly and without any reason – killed in midair.

Of course I didn’t say anything. They kept right on with their rush-rush attitude. In their world the only problem with today was these late flights. Only later would they get the text messages and phone calls. Only later would they reflect on the bigger picture. The losses. The closeness of it all. The cruel randomness.

 

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A Teaching Adventure

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14330691670_5f562afe1b_zVanish for a month or so from the online publishing world and some people might take notice. A few emails trickle in: “where’d you go?”, “what’s going on?”.  10 years of publishing something at least every week if not several times a week, brings some degree of expectation.

On the other hand, like so many things in life, it is great to break a tradition, strike up in a new direction, or simply defy expectations. Go left when they expect you to go right. – In my case, live more offline than I have in a decade; become a better cook, a dedicated partner, study the ukelele, get more into yoga, push the ultimate frisbee skills to a new level.  And while all that was going on, on the heels of my successful crowd funding project, the reality set in of needing to raise funds in order to live and have some kind of a future.

That is when a whole other kind of adventure appeared, a regular teaching gig, a 15 minute bike ride from home. A far different scene than the scorching hot classrooms of Jalalabad, Afghanistan or the brief-but-exciting classrooms of Brooklyn College, I found myself with the task of teaching 100 or so, mostly Dutch, second year college students who are not pursing journalism, politics, or any of the humanities my work has so often been connected to.  “A challenge” is what teachers typically call a really tough audience that may not always want to hear what you’re trying to show them and on the same hand demand you show up class after class after class with an interesting presentation to keep them thinking (or from falling asleep).  A challenge is definitely what I was confronted with these past months. An interesting challenge that also leads me to see both myself and the world from another new angle.  Although I’m still a traveller at heart, it was a reminder that new ideas and insight can sometimes be found  very close to home.

Like journalism, school is a special kind of institution with a kind of public responsibility. Yet somehow, like journalism, school has become a big business, suffering from all the drawbacks that business entails (sure a few benefits too). Attracting and keeping an audience,  dealing with limit budgets, following rules yet trying to be flexible; unfortunately journalism and education face many common realities. Perhaps that is the reason an education job, to me, doesn’t feel like a far stretch from the media world. It is all connected. As Zenobia Dawson once said to her teachers in “The Wire”, “We’ve got our thing, but it’s just part of the big thing.” – Indeed.

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10 Years Ago Today: My Nephew Arrived

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An oldy from our younger days.

Long long ago in a time where journalists could be bloggers and bloggers might be journalists and people actually read long form personal content, this here website was a hotbed of socio-political activity. Hard to believe, but in those days my friends and family were a regular part of what took place here. I could be talking about a war somewhere in the world or the latest activity my young family members were busy with.

Humbling to think that 10 years ago, this week, I wrote the following:

Special announcement: I’m an uncle. On May 13th, around 8pm, Alexander Marsh Rendeiro was born in New Brunswick, NJ, USA. Out of respect for the privacy of my nephew, photos are only available upon request for now. From what I gather, the family is good, just very, very exhausted.

From there every year or so I would write letters and record videos (currently offline) about or for my nephew.

As far as uncles go, I’m not the best. I live too far away to qualify as a great one. Still, from this side of the ocean, I watch, listen, and ask all about the life and times of this extraordinary human being.  And when I am over in New Jersey, I do my best to make up for lost time, and share some laughs before I’m off again.

10 years is impressive. It also goes by in the blink of an eye. As I type that, I find myself thinking of how interesting the next 10 years will be. Wow. Here’s to the decade to come, happy birthday young mister A-Ren!

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Closing Out the Dubai Taxi Project

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avatar Mark Fonseca Rendeiro
in Amsterdam, The Netherlands
Amazon Wishlist

ctrp470_140504In order to properly say goodbye to the Dubai Taxi Project, you have to have a podcast. On today’s program there are final notes, unpublished reflections, hypocracies, musings, future plans and even an easter egg. No guests, no taxi’s, just me and a microphone and you listening wherever you are in the world. Podcasting the way it was in the beginning, where it is good to return to after a long journey or time away.