Citizen Reporter

Inconsistent Gardener

For we of the four day work week, the weekend has arrived. Which is good cause its 2am and I’m exhausted from my various jobs as well as podcasting til 3am last night. However, tomorrow will be time to take on the garden, as recently nature freed up some space and now I have room to plant and sun.

But before I go off to dreamland I wanted to talk about my new hero of videoblogging. Obviously I have lots of vlog idols, they’re all in my blogroll, as you can see with your own pretty eyes. However, I was watching some French vlog last week and the dude mentioned vinvin’s Bonjour America. I thought, that sounds fun, let’s go see…

What I discovered is my new favorite vlog. It is hilarious and fun, two things I usually don’t get enough of amidst my concern for the state of the world. VinVin explains all things French to the world, especially to Americans. But it’s the style he does it with, it has me spitting up my cereal every morning as I go through the new vlogs. Specifically I refer you to his episode where he makes a Big Poll of French People regarding the US, and then his epic French Cheese Project where he puts Blair Witch to shame.

VinVin, I salute you! Readers and new video blog watchers — Subscribe to Bonjour America!

bm116 Exxon Valdez, The Disaster after the Disaster

It was more than a decade ago, March 24th 1989, when Exxon’s oil spilled into the Prince William Sound. Everyone remembers the images of the dead sealions and otters being picked out of the toxic sludge and thrown into the fire. But who remembers the fallout, as the community imploded and their industry choked to death along with the ecosystem. And what of the verdicts in the trials that followed, against Exxon who has since added a dash Mobile and boasts record setting profits year after year. Join me and exceprts from the well produced Sierra Club TV video blog, to examine and relive the Exxon-Valdez.

AudioCommunique #116 (mp3)

Music–

Ill list it when I wake.

What Would You Like on Your Knesset?

It sounds like a dessert. But really you should never bite into it, because it probably tastes like fat, sweaty, old men. No offense to the sweaty fat guys out there, it’s not all your fault. But if there’s one thing I like about the Israeli parliament, is that you only need 2% of the vote for your party to get some seats.

Fun! I was just thinking about this as they count up the votes and smile for the cameras; say you’re a bunch of old retired people? You can just get together, go door to door, or maybe just stroll the halls of the retirement home, and after lots of work, maybe you’ll get your 2%! Voila, suddenly the old retired party has some seats for the big show; and you’ll be banging your fist against the table and running over other parliamentarians toes with your wheelchair in no time! Oh wait – that already happenned… they’re called the Gimla’ey Yisrael LaKneset. Hows that for representation? – fun!*

So the old people got a few seats and as I scan down the list past the big mainstream parties, I see they’ve got a communist arab party with some seats, a religious arab party with some seats, a social democractic party, a party united around the Torah, and then a bunch of religious parties with very long and scarey names. Scarey to me, they could actually mean “Milk and Cookies for Everyone in Israel party”… something about Hebrew that makes even milk and cookies look aggressive to me.

Anyway they’re counting the little sheets of paper and the numbers are rolling in. And you don’t need me to tell you who won and who is an unpopular, never going to be prime minister again, zero-personality, war mongering, far-right jerk. You’ve got the media and plenty of blogolas to tell you that stuff. I’m just hoping the Amsterdam cable system can hook me up with live coverage of the Knesset from now on – it’ll be more interesting than Idols.

* This is not sarcasm, I actually think this is much cooler than a certain OTHER type of government system.

Let the World Remember Tsegaye

Sometime during one’s primary and secondary education, for those of us lucky enough to have gotten both, we probably learn some things about poetry. It may not be much or it may not always stick with us, but hopefully there was a teacher who was passionate enough about poetry to awaken the appetite of the student to better understand and enjoy poetry.

Unfortunately for me it didn’t take very well. Ask me to name my favorite poet, and I’ll probably pretend I know alot by naming those all familiar names, Robert Frost, Maya Angelou, etc. I can’t recite more than a single line from either of those two great poets, which I consider to be a pity. The only poetry that stuck with me a bit better was Portuguese poetry, which I learned about doing several years of summer courses at the University of Lisbon. But even then I never felt I fully understood it. In hopes that I might one day better grasp them, I keep a Mia Couto and a Luis de Camões book on my shelf.

Beyond that, when it comes to poets from around the world, my own education never seemed to mention much beyond North America and Europe. One might use the excuse that the world is too big, but I still hope that as the world becomes smaller and closer, poets such as Tsegaye Gabre-Medhin, Ethiopia’s beloved playwrite and poet laureate, will be read in many classrooms worldwide. I heard of his death last week and then took time to search for bloggers writing about his life’s work and it’s importance within Ethiopia and around the world.

I won’t even try to pretend I know enough about him to pass onto to all of you. Instead I refer you to Weblog Ethiopia, Things We Should Have Written Down, and for those who still like mainstream media: The New York Times. After reading them, I’ve made a mental note to read any translations I can find of his work, to one day teach my children.

Some Sundays are Like That

I could almost taste the rain that hadn’t yet started, as I rode towards home trying to somehow cycle faster than is humanly possible. The phone rang and as per tradition, I couldn’t find the right pocket out of my million coat pockets, each filled with a different electronic device that only a citizen reporter would constantly carry on his person. That expression always cracks me up — carrying it on my person.

I decide to call the missed call back, as I could see it was Miss Ditta who just returned from her very long and extensively documented journey through Brazil. Hadn’t yet caught up with her since the return, though blogs pretty much keep friends up to date with each other in my experience:

ring ring…. (conversation takes place entirely in Portuguese, naturally)
D: Where are you? (a classic mobile phone greeting)
BM: Riding from Oost, heading back to the Oud West homestead.
D: Why not come to Prinsengracht number 1 zillion*.
BM: Sure, Im just about to hit the canals of the lovely Jordaan anyway.
D: Good. Ciao.
…click…

Course I had no idea where the house was and I certainly didn’t know who’s house it was, but what does that matter – it’s Sunday, you live in Amsterdam, you almost don’t need a coat today, and all the work you think you have to do can just wait.

I arrive pretty close to number 1 zillion and decide to continue the search on foot. As I walk towards the canal where I spot a bikerack, I catch the eye of a beautiful Dutch girl chatting with some people on a lovely houseboat. I smile like I’ve known her all my life and my mouth almost opens to start talking, when I notice she might not be looking at me, and I have no idea who she is. I notice a bunch of other people on the houseboat, and I think to myself: I miss the days where I used to hang out on houseboats. Around that same moment, a drunken German tourist, leading a group of old people, greets me in French. (why not?)
He asks: — are you from here?
And I reply: — yes I am, and its funny you’ve chosen French to communicate with me.

Then, in a mix of French, German, and English, he asks for a fantastic restaurant recommendation. I’m fiddling with my phone trying to call Ditta, and secretly envying the beautiful girl and all her friends partying on the houseboat. As I glanced up and down the canals thinking of a restaurant, voices from the houseboat start calling towards me:

Bicyclemark, what are you doing? Get over here!

I passed the German tourists onto a German speaker on the boat, and I started making the rounds giving hugs and kisses to all those present.
Oh you’re bicyclemark… soup mark who makes delicious Portuguese soup !, exclaimed another beautiful girl who could only be Ditta’s sister visiting from Slovakia.

I could go on. But at some point you’ll get tired of nationalities and languages and conversations and occasional references to some intriguing female I know nothing about. The moral of the story is: life is random.

Goodnight….. and Goodluck.

(*number changed for privacy purposes)

bm115 A Visit to Venezuela, the Observations of Steve Shalom

It becomes hard to tell what is really happening in Venezuela with all the conflicting reports coming from the United States government, US media, the international press, and the country itself. How you view the situation seems to hinge on whether you are pro-Chavez or anti-Chavez. While I was in New Jersey in December, my former professor and good friend Steve Shalom informed me that he was going to be part of a group from my alma mater, paying a special visit to Venezuela this month. He recently returned and in the podcast I bring you his observations; the good, the bad, and the still-too-early-to-tell.

Music –
Various songs from Luis Silva
Los Amigos Invisibles – Esto es lo que hay
Un Solo Pueblo – Venezuela

Also: Panel Discussion on US Drug Policy and Latin America at NYU coming up. Anyone interested and in the area, read about it over at the LatinAmericanist blog.

As discussed in the show, here is the photo from the cover of the NY Times, I labelled it.