Text – Page 12 – Citizen Reporter

Hope in Georgia

Almost a year since my first visit to the Republic of Georgia, I am back in Tbilisi, working here for one week. And while last year many of my conversations and observations were related to conflicts and recent history, this year I’m going beyond the surface and learning about the many layers Georgia today. What strikes me, more anything else, is that no matter who I speak with, there is a flat out – lack of hope in this country.

It isn’t the first county I’ve ever experienced with no hope for the future, back in my Portugal people are also routinely negative and resigned that nothing good will happen in the future. Like the Portuguese, Georgians have plenty of reasons to justify this outlook: Georgia doesn’t make anything the world seems to want, the average mentality does not seem to have changed much over the past 20 years, and there is good evidence that current and future leadership has neither the capability or intention to do something about the mounting issues.

Despite all the despair, present and future, here we are. Countries like Georgia, where few believe anything will progress for the better in their lifetime, ramble on. Sure, I could point out the shiny new yellow mini buses found all over town, the vast amount of young people who have a global outlook and talent for languages (among other skills), or how police corruption seems to have faded when taking into account stories from the past involving bribery and illegal incarceration. I suppose none of these factors can make up for all the things that aren’t working and aren’t getting better around here.

Talking about hope is considered a lame and worthless line of conversation for many people. Back in 2008 it was a big group of Americans who decided to believe in change and hope. Now you can’t even say the words. Here in Georgia, though there’s no Obama, don’t bother mentioning hope, you’ll just sound silly.

Getting Off Nuclear Fast

I had to read the sentence a few times out loud to friends in order to understand if I was getting it wrong: “all but two of Japan’s 54 nuclear reactors have been shut down since the Fukushima disaster last year.”

How could that be? A nation that was so, seemingly, dependent on nuclear energy, within a year after a major disaster, goes almost completely off of nuclear energy. In my mind this would leave Japan completely in the dark and in a terrible situation when it comes to availability of power. That’s not because I like or want nuclear energy, it is purely from the thinking that Japan was so dependent on that type of energy.

As it turns out, Japan was not quite dependent on nuclear. Officially 1/3 of their energy came from their 54 reactors. So the country would be operating on only 2/3 of its normal power capacity. Of course it is also winter, so the air conditioners haven’t kicked in yet, which could amount to a massive amount of increased power demands. Meanwhile it has been reported that the government has been pushing for big power conservation activities in both business and residential buildings. Add to that whatever quick power generating solutions the country could setup within a year, and you’ve got the current situation for Japan. But will this hold?

To get a better idea of what is going on, I turned -not to the media- but to a concerned citizen on the ground in Tokyo, to find out what information is available there and what they’re experiencing on a day to day basis. Frequent guest of the podcast and my good friend Karamoon replied to my questions as follows:

Very few people in Japan are aware that almost all the nuclear
reactors are still offline. The situation is not mentioned in the
Japanese media.

No black outs here at the moment. Things *may* be different in the
summer when people start using air conditioning and the load on the
power grid could therefore be much greater.

I guess there are 3 reasons that we have enough power here. The main
reason is that the non-nuclear power plants usually operate at much
less than 100% of their maximum capacity. When the nuclear power
plants were taken offline, the non-nuclear plants started to run at
full capacity, making up for the shortfall. The cost of running a
nuclear plant is the same regardless of the output level, so they are
always run at close to 100% capacity. Non-nuclear plants are more
efficient when running at lower capacities, and are used to provide
flexibility when the load on the power grid changes with the seasons,
for example.

A second reason is that companies are making their own power, and may
even be able to sell surplus power in the near future. A third reason
is that companies have been taking measures to use less energy.

It is important to remember that nuclear power is essentially a myth.
Also, nuclear power plants require vast amounts of oil during their
life cycle and, therefore are clearly not carbon-neutral. (whatever
that really means)

Once again it is only one wise citizen’s observation, but he touches on several important issues that clearly aren’t making it into the media in Japan and nations that have nuclear energy are often afraid to discuss: the real cost of nuclear energy, what we could really do if serious conservation efforts were made. We’re so often told nuclear energy is necessary because our lifestyle demands so much energy, but then in one short year one of the most modern nations in the world shows that if people really have to, they can change their lifestyle and still live well.

Kidnap Radio, A Shining Light

As far as the internet goes, what you recorded last week might be interesting. What you recorded last year might be fondly remembered. And what you recorded last year is pretty much gone. At least, that is how it often feels as a content creator. That being said, as someone who loves discovering treasure buried under this year’s internet, what happens in 2007 has as much value to me as 2012; I discover things when I discover them and its beautiful and memorable every time.

Tonight the treasure I found came to me while night jogging on a late winter’s night, the voice of someone named Annie Correal, a radio piece entitled “Kidnap Radio” from 2010. It was the story about a radio program in Colombia, dedicated to and broadcasted for those who are in captivity somewhere in the jungle. It is also dedicated to their families, to communicate their messages of love and support, to let captives know they aren’t forgotten and that their families are doing ok, waiting for their return. The radio producer, this beautiful voice guiding my run, was herself the daughter of a kidnap victim. She tells of how it happened, with help from – to my great joy – the voice of her father who was released in the year 2000, after 265 days in captivity. Annie talks about how her family was one of those that would go on the radio show “Voices of Kidnapping” to broadcast messages to her father. You even hear the recording of her step-mother and siblings, talking into the microphone, hoping their father was listening, telling him about school and things happening in their lives. Amazingly, her father heard that message from wherever he was being held in the jungle. A message that gave him hope and strength to carry on, waiting for that day when he might be released.

Of course there are many other stories within the story of Kidnap Radio. Not all had such a positive ending, with many families still waiting for their loved ones to be released, some who will never see that day come. But what struck me as I followed the winding paths in the darkness, listening to Mr. Correal speak about the color and quality of this radio that he took such delicate care of, is the power that this -nowadays overlooked- tool can have. In a world where commercials and uncreative “cost-effective” programming has taken over most radio stations and most of us (including myself) look to the internet as the new beacon of communication – it is the radio that can still reach you in the middle of the jungle. It is radio that can broadcast your hopeful message to someone who so urgently needs to hear it.

The internet is great, no doubt about it. But right here in this little plastic box with an antenna, even in 2012, there is tremendous power accessible to all, if only it could be set free.

The Journeyman

“How many flights have you been on in the past year?” – the Lisbon airport employee is holding a stack of papers as she runs down a check list survey, the bright morning sun is filling the room through the glass walls. Despite my sleepy state I have a pretty good idea of the answer – 20. “Business or pleasure” – she asks in a routine manner, not taking her eyes off the paper. My work is my pleasure, I see friends and do work everywhere I go – so both, I respond. She doesn’t seem impressed with what I always think is a cool-guy answer to give, not to mention that its the truth.

6 hour lay over in Lisbon, city that I love and has played an important role at almost every stage of my life. 2 hours the day before at Newark airport, a place that few people speak well of, yet I always feel at home as I wait for the flight back to Europe. I know exactly what terminals are where, what gates are for what airlines, and around what time flights for different continents leave. The people who have such knowledge are usually the business types. A category of traveler I might sound like, but I am most certainly not.

Unlike the business travelers who travel as much if not more than I do, I’m not part of any special club that gives me extra perks. I don’t stay at multi-star hotels, I couch surf. I don’t go to convention centers directly to the hotel-bar, I make time to wander around the places I travel to and speak with people who live and work there, a side effect of my personal journalistic mission in life. I don’t drink myself to sleep off free booze on the plane and I don’t try and make one more phone call as the plane is pulling away from the gate. My travel itinerary may look like that of an international business veteran, but the truth is my travel adventures have been constructed out of clever planning, the goodwill of others, and work that values my expertise enough to fund the trip. Some might know all about what club lounge has the best buffet, I know about what seat in couch gives me the most comfort and ease with getting off and on the plane. Where they may know who’s first class has the best sleeper seats, I know what airlines let coach passengers bring an extra carry-on item to help avoid lost or delayed luggage claim upon arrival.

A few months ago I mentioned (on twitter) a concern for the cost of a conference where I was going to be speaking. This concern was met by some criticism among some who said that for all my traveling, how could I complain about money? Back in the US I know some who say they’d love to visit other countries, but don’t have the money. What neither of these groups realizes is that when it comes to traveling, there is a long list of ways to do it on the cheap. Even with the cost of flights being what seems to be higher than ever, a clever planner and a passionate explorer can find a way. Managing to see some of the world, doesn’t mean you need to be rolling in dough. Money may play a role, but the desire to really travel matters just as much, if not more. I’m no businessman, but I’ve managed to get around so far in my life – I say you can too.

How Do We Get There From Here

Newark — photo by eutrophication&hypoxia on flickr

As the sun disappears behind the concrete horizon, I look across the 10 lanes of highway that are currently all filled with cars moving extremely slowly. Everyone in their own vehicle on their way back from work heading home, everyone hoping this traffic will clear up, just as they hope everyday around this time. The highway is massive and bleak, with shards glass and tiny nondescript car pieces along the shoulder. The sound barriers couldn’t possibly block out all this sound, but communities along the highways of New Jersey figured that out long ago. Most of them are used to the 24 hour, year after year sound of trucks and cars roaring in the direction of New York or Pennsylvania.

This is New Jersey in 2012. This was New Jersey in 1992. A few decades pass, but other than the shape and design of the newer cars on the road, the feeling has not changed. If anyone happens to tune into news in the car, they could surely hear a report about the state of the world, specifically about the environment and the point to which humans are pushing it through our own collective behavior. But thats just on the news, the story out there is doing the daily routine. Getting through the day. Making that car payment. Paying that mortgage. Living that life we were taught to live.

Along the highway, between the occasional tree or building, there are the billboards. One in particular is for solar energy for your home. There’s a phone number under a picture of a solar panel. I wonder how many people have dialed it and how things are working out for them. A Prius pulls in front of me, I almost forgot there were hybrid vehicles out here among the SUV’s and livery cabs. The exit ramp takes me around and over the highway, the bridge I grew up crossing everyday looks worn and crumbling. The etched date in the concrete reads: 1974. I wonder how much we’ve really learned since then.

91 Excellent Years, And Counting

I can remember at the end of every summer when I was kid, having to wake up before the sun came up, to get a ride from the town’s lone taxi driver, who would take us on the long journey via the treacherous and twisty national roads of Portugal before the dawn of highways, to catch the plane back to New Jersey. Right before my brother and I would get in the car, my grandparents would do the routine: wish us a good trip and ask us if we forgot anything. Then my grandmother, who even back then never had trouble speaking her mind, would speak a dramatic line like she was rehearsing for a very poor rendition of McBeth, “I probably won’t see you next year, as I’m old and I probably won’t survive til next summer.” This would be followed by us half-laughing at her over-dramatic delivery as we’re trying to focus on the journey ahead, and the traditional, “oh be quiet with that stuff” from my grandfather. More than 20 years later, I’ve noticed my grandmother no longer says it, as I guess around the age of 90 it is simply implied.

The beauty of having grandparents around the age of 90, who are still of mostly sound mind, is that you can ask all the questions many people never get to. Instead of learning about your family based on second or third hand stories, you have the very people who lived unbelievable moments and did the kind of hard work that seems impossible for any modern day work-from-anywhere self-employed person. You also get to watch them reflect on a world that they have observed for almost 100 years… even if they were too busy or napping for many of those years. In an era where we stash our elderly out of sight and praise the virtues of being young, I’ve had the good fortune of never losing touch, and always being enlightened/entertained by one set of my grandparents. Even better, throughout my life, I’ve gotten to help my grandfather in his orchards, listen to my grandmother in the kitchen, and laugh at the cold weather while sitting with them around a fireplace.

Not everyone gets to do this. That truth never eludes me. It is a rare treasure that no one is guaranteed and many are denied. I would call that one of the main reasons I would share stories about them, to share the wealth in some tiny and perhaps naive way.

Today my grandfather, José da Fonseca Jr. turned 91 years old. Whatever his age, however different my world might be from his, he is a part of everything I do and the way that I do it. Parabens Avô!