Cave Paint

An open letter to blogspot

2010-05-28T13:00:00.001-07:00

I wrote this letter to Blogspot.com. Although we've had a wonderful relationship I decided to call it off today. I have a new blog at Wordpress Please make the transition with me, dear readers (don't tell blogspot).

Thanks,
Eli

Dear Blogspot,

Hey, well this is awkward. I don't really know how to say this, so I guess I'll just dive in.

I don't have the same feelings for you that I used to have. For almost three years we've been together. You've been such a good friend, confidant and all-around great virtual conglomerate of text. I've learned so much about myself from you. I've learned so much about relationship.

But the feeling is gone. It's not you, it's me. Seriously. I just can't fake it anymore. I don't have the same feelings that I used to have for you. I don't regret our time together, not at all. However, I just think we both need to move on. We both have to learn how to live with out each other.

That all being said, I have one other confession.

Yes, there is another. Like I said before, it's not you. But I'm now seeing Wordpress.com. I met Wordpress.com over the last two weeks. It's just a better fit for me. I'm really sorry, I feel very bad about this... but sometimes you just know that you have to do something.

Listen, please, this isn't you, it's me.

I know everyone says this, but I hope we can still be friends.

Sincerly,
Eli Francovich

What I've Learned

2010-05-22T10:35:00.000-07:00

This may be a bit redundant, but I've just got to emphasize how much I'm learning here. It's a bit of an information overload. To be honest. I think that I'll probably only truly begin to process it after I've returned home. However, I think there are some definite highlights, thus far. Although I'm learning so much about multimedia production and editing (I'm going to a Final Cut Pro class in a few minutes!) I think the most useful and in certain ways basic skill discussed is how we journalists choose stories.

Yeah, this might seem kind of like a no brainer. Most of us have been finding our own stories for a while. Personally I thought I knew what it was all about.

I was wrong.

I've realized that the stories I've come up with I've simply been lucky enough to fall into. I've never had a logical, step-by-step process attached to the story finding process. That's no longer the case. Thanks to Al Tompkin's presentation on the "5 Motivators" I have a much better grasp on why some stories work, and others don't.

Al's 5 Motivators

Money
Family
Safety
Health
Community

Al's secondary Motivators

Moral Outrage
Curiosity

This list is fairly simple. Yet I think it will impact me for the rest of my life. See, I've never really thought about why I choose to write a story. Sure, sometimes you just have to write a story, however, that doesn't mean you can't find one of these motivators. Al said all good stories contain one of more of these elements.

When I think back on the stories I've written I notice a trend. I tend to use Curiosity as my main motivator. This is a legitimate motivator, however, according to Al, you have to be careful. It works but not all the time. Basically you shouldn't rely on it.

Wow! That is crazy. I've honestly never analyzed my story choosing process. I analyze my writing, my interviewing and my design skills. But it never even crossed my mind that it would be useful to analyze the foundation of any story.

It's ridiculously obvious how obvious this should have been. In fact, it makes me want to go back and re due last year. Actually the last two-years.

Ah, well I guess that won't happen. It's simple but so important. And it fits. Thinking back over my most "successful" articles I see they all contained one or more of these elements. My "Hooked on Hookah" feature, which was an SPJ national finalist had a health component, a community component and an innate curiosity component.

So, my journalism education continues. As excited as I am for traveling next year (I'm really freaking excited) I kind of wish I could go work in the journalism industry. It's just so exciting and interesting. Right now is such an important and pivotal time, and I want in!

Passion for Poynter

2010-05-18T16:47:00.000-07:00

Poynter is amazing. I'm still firmly committed to that statement. It's an intense full immersion into the journalistic process. They expect us to engage and work hard. Not to say it isn't fun, it's a ton of fun. But hard work.

We start each day at either 9 am or 8:30 am. We will then spend the next many hours in sessions.

It's a funny thing. In school I fall asleep at the slightest provocation. It must be hard wired into me. A teacher talks, I sleep.

Not here. These are teachers like I've never seen before. Every single presenter I've had the pleasure of listening to has been completely and utterly passionate and engaged in their subject of choice. I honestly couldn't fall asleep, even if I wanted to. They are just too darn energetic. I love it.

This has made me think a bit about the process of learning and teaching. See, I always figured that when I really figured out what I wanted to be doing and was able to focus just on that, then I would stay interested and committed to that craft. However, now I'm not so sure. I think the key is having teachers that are just plain excellent. Even the presentations that aren't that inherently interesting to me, still captivate me. So, it's either the teacher or the realization that I'm paying a shit-ton of money to attend this two-week deal (wow, sounds like college).

Nah, I think it's the teachers...

And in addition to all the great things I'm learning here, we're also outfitted with some awesome equipment. It's a pretty unique experience, the ability to be able to focus on a journalism medium we're unfamiliar while using top-notch equipment, surrounded by top-notch journalists.

My fellow fellows (ha) are so insightful and skilled at what they do. I feel like I learn things just hanging out with them.

The projects are going well. I'm focusing mine on what the psychic community thinks/sees about the oil spill. I went into an interesting little shop today. The two woman I talked to were very nice. They both told me that the psychic community has been talking about the spill nonstop. So, although I have a ton of work left to do, at least I have a clear goal in mind. Hopefully it pans out.

St. Petersburg itself is a beutiful town. I've gotten into the habit of running a bit after the final sessions. It's a nice way to clear my head and see parts of the town I would not otherwise encounter. It's really quite beautiful. It's surrounded by water on three sides. The downtown area has nice restaurants and open air cafes. There seems to be a pretty strong night life as well as water based recreation (boats etc). Actually, today I ran out onto the Pier, which is... yeah you guessed it... a giant pier. There are shops and all sorts of things out there. I didn't explore too much, mostly because I was all sweaty and nasty. I think I'll head back there tomorrow.

So, more later. I'll try to pass on some of the excellent information I'm learning here. It's worth repeating.

This is our newsroom, yes it's the nicest room I've ever been in...

... and this is my own personal computer (for two-weeks), I love it dearly.

Poynter

2010-05-17T18:44:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm here. St. Petersburg Florida at the annual Poynter Fellowship. It's amazing plain and simple.

It's spectacular. I'll post some photos later, but for now, I'll I can say is it's absolutely, stunningly beautiful. It's, as Sara Quinn, one of our advisers/teachers/mentors said, a "Spa for journalists." The room we work in is beautiful. The paneling is all from one South American tree. Everything is ordered in such a way to create a calm and quite place for journalists to work and learn more about journalism. The technology is all state of the art, more or less, and we have access to it 24/7.

And that's just the building. I can't say enough about the people. I'm surrounded by college journalists that are so incredibly passionate about what they do. Every last one of them has something I can learn, something to teach me. The pure level of dedication to journalism is inspiring. I love being around the energy of it because it pushes me to work harder and learn more.

Yes, I'm pumped. It's only the second day, however, I've already learned so much. Today we were assigned to our "beat" teams. Me and four others spent a good three hours walking around trying to learn as much as we could about our assigned section of the city. It was hard, but interesting. My team mates were all very fun to be around and to work with.

Florida is hot and muggy, which doesn't bother me much. I love the heat. It's a very laid back, relaxed seeming town.

Tomorrow I'm waking up fairly early to go start working on my project which will be some sort of multimedia (most likely) package. I'm working with a lady named Anika Anand. Anika is from the University of North Carolina. It's going to be a fun project.

It's going to be an intense two weeks. No doubt about it. Our schedule is packed with classes and trainings. When we aren't in class we're expected to work on our projects.

So, I'm off to bed. I'll blog more, no doubt about it and I'll get some photos up, promise.

Disconnect

2010-05-10T10:23:00.000-07:00

So, the last issue of The Sentinel was produced this weekend. It was a good weekend and the first issue the new editors produced. It was a bit weird because I did almost nothing. I hung around to assist the new managing editor (Mike McCall) and the other new editors. However, they didn’t need me much.

Because of this disconnect I felt pretty nervous about how the paper would be. Because I wasn’t plugged into the process it seemed like there wasn’t much getting done.

I was wrong. It looks (on quick examination) like a great issue. The new editors really rocked the whole thing. They worked really hard (think staying until 5am) and were organized.

It was really great to see. At this moment I don’t feel sad about my time at The Sentinel being over. It was an amazing year and I’m so glad I did it, however, at this moment I’m just excited that I’m not going to be expected to manage anyone for almost a month. It’s a great feeling.

I will miss it though. It was a pretty amazing and unique experience. So, give me a few months and I’m sure I will be elegantly bemoaning my separation from The Sentinel and formalized journalism.

But for now I’m looking ahead. This week I have off (kind of). On Saturday I leave for the Poynter Fellowship, which I’m getting increasingly excited about. I’ll be there for two weeks (and I’ll be blogging about it). When I get back from that I’ll have a week off and then I’m fully immersed in the world of Camp Reed.

I’m excited for Camp. No doubt about that. This summer I’m leading CITs (Counselors in Training) and cooking. I have one week where I’ll be in charge of a cabin but other than that I get to hang with the older kids (15 years) and cook food for the camp.

It’s going to be a good summer. I love camp, the people and the work. One of my favorite aspects of the job is the pure amount of time I get to spend outside. During the school year I spend, if I’m lucky, 1.5 hours a day outside. I spend so much time in front of a screen. It’s maddening. At camp it’s the opposite. I spend 12 to 13 hours a day outside and maybe an hour in front of a screen a week.

I like the ratio.

Yeah, that's my cousin

2010-05-06T10:54:00.000-07:00

So, I know this won't really come as a surprise to anyone. Considering how freakishly athletic I am it's not really a big deal that my cousin, Marco Sullivan, was in the Olympics.

Actually, it's probably kind of expected. It's hard not to be in the Olympics when you're related to a Francovich. Yeah, I taught him everything he knows about competitive down hill skiing.

Anyways, all that aside, I was in Seattle about a month ago dropping off Emmanuelle. We were saying goodbye, when suddenly, I saw this advertisement, with, yeah you guessed it, Marco Sullivan on it.

Apparently he loves to ski and drink Budweiser...

If I was 21 I would have an opinion about Budweiser, but, being 20 I barely know what it is.

Issue 9 PDFs... finally

2010-05-04T15:48:00.001-07:00

Not the best issue ever, but not the worst either.

Homeless

2010-05-03T14:37:00.001-07:00

Met this guy in Seattle. He didn't have a leg because of a construction accident.

Back, back, back on the attack

2010-05-03T10:31:00.000-07:00

Well, hey. It’s been a bit. Lots of good things to relate. Stories to tell, photos to share, memories to recount. It’s going to be fun. In the interest of time, professionalism and clarity I’m going to divide this post into a few different categories. I’m not sure what they are yet… but I’ll figure it out.

Seattle to Seattle (and a little more)

So it’s been month, more or less (probably more) since I last wrote. So I think it’s appropriate to bookend this thing, meaning I’ll start with the beginning, skip four or more weeks and end with the end. Then I’ll go back and fill in the middle, much like building a house.

Right, so what does this have to do with Seattle? Well I started in Seattle and ended in Seattle. So there.

On March 23 I drove to Seattle to pick up Emmanuelle Martin. She is this woman that I met in India during my trip. We got along great (read: really amazing) and are (judging by my facebook status) in a “relationship.”

I hope that didn’t sound snide or sarcastic. I don’t feel either. She was here for three weeks and it was amazing. It’ shard to explain, well actually its not. We get along really well. We just fit each other, pretty perfectly. And she is really beautiful and has this amazing grace about her.

I’m a big fan. Anyways, she was here, it was great and I’m not going to divulge any more intimate details onto the Internet. Trust me though, I’m really lucky.

So, I picked her up in Seattle, and now I’m driving back from Seattle. This last weekend I went to look at colleges (well actually only one, Seattle University) and to tour the Seattle Times and generally see Seattle. I drove there with a bunch of people from The Sentinel. I spent the first night with my good friends Hannah Reid and Sarah McHugh, who both attend Seattle University. They were awesome hosts and really made me fall in love with the college.

The next night I spent with Sentinel folks, which was a lot of fun. Mike McCall (the new managing editor of The Sentinel), Mike Paquine (the new online editor) and I walked around and had a good time seeing down town Seattle.

The next night (May 1) I went back to Seattle University and stayed with Hannah and Sarah again.

And now I’m on a bus, flying through Central Washington, wondering what the burning electrical smell is.

Yoga

My Yoga life has been going great. I’ve been teaching and have gotten the requisite 20 hours. In fact I now have something like 25 hours of teaching experience. I’ve been doing Yoga everyday, which really feels great. I feel changes in my body, slowly but surely. My hamstrings are lengthening and I feel very present in my body.

Actually, this weekend was a big one as far as yoga goes. On Saturday morning I went to my first ever Bikram inspired class. For those of you who don’t know Bikram yoga is where you do yoga in a hot room. There is a whole style and philosophy behind it. I’d never done it and boy was it interesting. I didn’t find it very hard, however, the experience of sweating that much was definitely something new. I really enjoyed it, however, I’m really glad I have the privilege of practicing (and hopefully teaching) Anusara Yoga.

Then, this morning (May 2) I got to go to a yoga class at Seattle Yoga Arts. This studio is owned and operated by two women who are good friends with my mom. They were very welcoming and gracious. I had a wonderful time, and quite a bit harder than the Bikram class I went to.

Newspaper

And things have been going great here too (I live a lucky little life, ah nice alliteration). A few weeks ago I found out that I won first place in the Region 10 SPJ (Society of Professional Journalists) feature-writing category, second place in in-depth reporting and first place (shared with Jake Donahue) in editorial writing. The Sentinel also won best of show for the Region 10 SPJ. Basically this means that we will go to Las Vegas (I won’t but The Sentinel will) in October to compete in the national competition. Design wise we have a good shot at placing in the top three, but we will see.

And, in addition to this all, I got accepted to the Poynter Institute. This, in of itself, is pretty awesome. I applied for the fellowship a few months ago without giving it much thought. I really didn’t think I had much of a chance. I guess I was wrong. As cool as this is, what is even cooler is that I’ve managed to get enough money to go. At first I didn’t think I would be able to because it came with a pretty hefty price tag. However, thanks to Nils Rosdahl and NIC I’ve been able to wrangle up the necessary funds. I leave on May 15 and will be gone for two weeks. Oh, right. The Poynter Fellowship is a two-week journalism intensive. Forty student journalists from around the country attend the fellowship where they learn from the “industries best.”

It should be a good time. It’s in St. Petersburg Florida, which I think is a cool place, I’m not sure if it can beat Coeur d’Alene in the spring. We’ll see.

The Sentinel is almost done. We have one more issue. I’m no longer the managing editor (despite the signature on my email address). The new guy is Mike McCall. For this last issue I will be in an advisory role (much like the U.S. in Vietnam pre escalation). I’ll help Mike learn all the things he needs to know for the nebulous and taxing job that is being the managing editor. I will miss it, but I think it’ll take a few months for me to miss it. Right now I’m just glad to be almost done.

Restless horizon looking attitude

I’m feeling the good old little travel urges. Actually they aren’t little. I can’t wait to be traveling (yes, this definitely has something to do with the fact that I’ll see Emmanuelle). It’s really getting intense. It’s hard to sit still. It’s hard to keep the same old routine that I’ve had these last 9 months. I’m horizon bound.

But wait, what about the summer?

Great question. This summer I’m working at Camp Reed, again. I’m so, so excited. It looks like I’m going to be leading CITs (Counselors in Training), which is this great program. It’s four 14 and 15 year olds. Basically how it works is we spend one week working on projects around camp (and we really work hard) and then we spend another whole week biking around Lake Coeur d’Alene (around 300 miles). I can’t wait. I’m really, really excited. I get to lead the weeks with some great people.

So, I think those are the main ones. I’ll add more if I think of things I omitted.

I’m still on this bus and that burning electrical smell is gone, so that is a plus. We’re in Moses Lake. It feels so good to be on a bus, traveling moving seeing different things different people.

Lots of things

2010-03-16T10:13:00.000-07:00

Well, right now is an interesting time. The Sentinel (Issue 8) came out last week. We don’t have another issue for six weeks, so I’m in a quagmire work wise. See, I work really well under pressure. However, remove that pressure and boom... I’m lazy and unmotivated. Take yesterday for instance. I got to The Sentinel office at 7 am and stayed there until 2 pm. The majority of that time I was doing nothing. Sure, I got a bit done, but when you consider how many hours I spent there, it’s pretty lame.

So, that is something I’m continually working on. It’s great to be able to work under pressure, but it’s also important (I think) to have the long term vision to work as you go. Not just last minute.

That being said, some pretty cool stuff happened yesterday and today.

First off, yesterday I found out I had been selected to attend the annual Poynter Fellowship. This is a two-week journalism intensive in St. Petersburg Florida. Basically you apply and then if you are one of the 40 selected you spend the two weeks immersed in all things journalism related. It’s pretty neat to have this opportunity. The only stumbling block is the price ($1,800 not counting air fair, food or lodging). It’s not exactly cheap. So, I applied for a scholarship. Hopefully I get that, but we will see. I have to say thanks to Jake Donahue for telling me about this. He did it last year and said it was amazing. He also recommended me to the lady in charge there, which I'm sure helped a bit.

Now, the next neat thing; as some of you may know I’ve been working on developing a new website for my mother. Well, if you read the top half of this post you might see that I’m not so good with the long-term motivation. Website design = a long-term motivation thing = Eli is not staying up on it.

That all changed yesterday. Darci Sinclair (a student of my mother) has volunteered to work with me. She is a professional graphic designer. We had are first meeting yesterday, which was absolutely awesome. It’s so cool to work with someone who is an expert at what she does. Also, having another person on the “team” forces me to work harder and more regularly, which is great.

And finally, I just found out 20 minutes ago that The Sentinel won Best of Show in the New York CMA convention. Pretty cool! Nils Rosdahl (my adviser) just called to tell me.

Yup, well that it is about it. The Yoga teaching is going well. I’m well on my way to the 20 hours and I love teaching. Still got a ton to learn but that is why I’m taking a teacher training.

Buisness Card

2010-03-11T11:54:00.000-08:00

Here is a card I designed a while ago. I haven't actually printed it because I'm cheap and don't really need a business card right now. Still, it was fun. It kind of looks like a cow now that I think about it.

Photos

2010-03-10T21:39:00.000-08:00

Hey here are some photos I took of the NIC welding class. Turned out nice.

Cheer, it's over (I hope)

2010-03-10T21:30:00.000-08:00

Well, it has been an interesting week. The whole cheer leading thing really took off. Today I met with the athletic director (Al Williams, great guy) and the cheer leading coach. Yesterday I removed the article from The Sentinel website and posted a formal apology. The more I think about it the more I believe I messed up. Of course there was no way for me to know that the writer and the cheerleaders had past history, but as the editor my job is to figure things like that out. So, I’m happily taking responsibility for it, well happily is probably the wrong adjective, maybe willingly or ploddingly… or stickily… no that doesn’t work either…. Anyways I’m taking responsibility for it. Click here to read the apology letter (Yeah, it's the one with the flashing red thing that says 'Breaking News').

So the meeting today was all about that. I apologized to the cheer coach and we generally just talked about how bad of a mess up that was. Overall it was a good meeting, however, at points I felt that I wasn’t really being listened to… but so is the plight of a 20-year-old.

So, the upshot of all of this? Personally I’ve learned quite a bit. Although we’re students and just learning, what we write and publish has an effect. So be careful. And as the editor it’s all my responsibility. It all comes back to me. That is my job.

So, I think the worst is over. The last couple of days won’t be missed.

And, as an aside I’m so, so, so glad I’m not wrapped up in NIC’s social drama scene. It sounds like a mess.

Issue 8 Pages

2010-03-09T16:01:00.001-08:00

Hey, so a great issue. We will probably take this one to the New York competition, pretty exciting. Anyways check them out.

A1

I didn't draw this, or come up with the idea, but wow it's cool isn't it?

Issue 8

2010-03-08T23:00:00.000-08:00

Issue 8 of The Sentinel is out. It’s a good one. We all worked really hard and it shows. There are some mistakes, but nothing major. I forgot to bring the PDFs home with me, so I’ll post them tomorrow.

Something interesting did happen though. Today I was sitting in class when one of the editors came up to me (Nils was talking) and told me there were four mad cheerleaders in the newsroom. I immediately though “Oh boy, they are mad about that opinion piece.” Well, I was right. They were mad. Really mad. Two of them were crying. They yelled (well, maybe loudly exclaimed) at me for 10 minutes. I told them there wasn’t much I could do about it, that I was sorry and that I hoped they would write a letter to the editor expressing their anger etc. I don’t think any of it helped. You can read the article here. It doesn’t say anything terrible, at least not outright. What it does is hint at things.

Anyways, it was an interesting morning. It got better as Nils (the adviser) got several phone calls from angry parents and the athletic director.

It looks like we are going to meet with the AD and the cheer leading adviser (or whatever you call that position) tomorrow.

I feel really bad about this. As the managing editor it’s my responsibly to check things that go into the paper. Well, personally I think I goofed. I don’t think we should have run this article. However, it is an opinion piece. So it’s a complicated issue because it's this one guys opinion (I didn’t write the article) and he has a right to express it (I suppose).

I’m not sure how things will work out. I do believe that it will all blow over (eventually, like everything I guess), which isn’t to say I’m taking it lightly. It was hard to watch those girls cry in anger and shame.

So, we will see. I’ll have a better idea about what will happen (or won’t) tomorrow after we meet with the AD. Until then I’ curious, what do you guys think (here I go assuming that people read this, well I guess I’ll find out)? I would love it if you would go read the article and then comment, let me know.

Actually that reminds me of an article I read a few weeks ago in Wired magazine. It’s all about how, after a certain point, social networks stop being social. That once you have 20,000 Twitter followers the conversation stops. Pretty interesting. Check it out here.

OK, great thanks for reading, lets talk.

JDC

2010-03-01T22:14:00.000-08:00

Well, today I taught my second yoga class. It was at the Juvenile Detention Center, or JDC. Jennifer Harbour, one of my mom’s students has been teaching there for some years, free of charge. I posted about it before, but I just got to write more. It’s hard to describe. The place we’re doing yoga is a cafetria floor. The lights are bright, iridescent things that hum. It’s a gym. But it’s still Yoga.

I had a whole class planned out. It was a good class, focusing on arm balances (I was billed as the arm balance guru). But a class in JDC isn’t like a class anywhere else. It was good to have the notes, but I had to be willing to stray from them often, which I did.

It was chaotic, but thanks to Jenn it all stayed good. She is amazing. The work she has done there and continues to do is so invaluable. So precious.

I guess the thing that really gets me about doing Yoga at JDC is the kids and how, fundamentally, vulnerable they are. Yes, they are tough and I would never ever want to fight them. But the other reality is that they are young, scared and abandoned. So many of them are in JDC because their parents couldn’t or didn’t want to deal with them.

Bum deal right?

So, when I first walked in there, that is more or less all I see; tough kids that could kick my ass. But once the Yoga has started that all dissolves. Soon they are just kids moving their bodies and loving it. They are just having a ball.

That is the power of Yoga I guess. It just brings people together. Me who has lived the a truly blessed life, and then these kids, the poorest of the poor (whether it be financially or simply relationally).

So, I feel so lucky to be able to go into these situations. With out Yoga I wouldn’t be able to. It just wouldn’t be possible. But Yoga is the bridge.

The class, which was never exactly organized, ended up turning into a giant Yoga/Dance class. We turned on rap music and did a flow practice. I loved it. It was so fun.

And then they left. One kid, who is facing 19 years in the ‘Big Jail’ for getting involved in a high-speed car chase, shook my hand as he left. He is incredibly talented at Yoga. He can do things I can’t even begin to try. Someday he could be a kick ass Yoga teacher. But he is going to be in jail. He is 18. He has been living on his own since he was 12. Now he is going to be in jail until he is 37.

It’s tragic.

Back from Phoenix

2010-03-01T22:06:00.000-08:00

Hey all, I'm back from Phoenix. It was a fun trip. The Sentinel won Best of Show at the ACP Convention, which is awesome. Pretty happy about that. Anyways, jumping right back into my life and work. Really excited for the coming production week, I think it's going to be a good one!
Again great time in Phoenix. I can't express my gratitude enough to Nils Rosdahl, my adviser, for helping me get there and teaching me everything I know.

Here are some photos from the hike we took on the very last day we were there. Really a great hike.

Phoenix

2010-02-27T11:38:00.000-08:00

So, it's been pretty busy here. I've been attending a bunch of seminars and classes, learning really great stuff. On Friday morning I was on a panel regarding the managing of two-year newspapers. It was pretty interesting. There weren't all that many people there, but more than I expected (like 10). It was fun, very laid back and conversational. I really enjoyed it.

And then just the normal convention stuff. Today I went to a two-hour class on using Excel to help you find and report on stories. The teacher was a woman named Holly A. Heyser, she is the adviser to the California State University in Sacramento. She was just awesome, really into her work. I learned so much.

One term that she used a lot, which I had never heard before, was Computer Assisted Reporting (CAR). I guess for the modern journalist everything is CAR, but in this context she was specifically referring to Excel and Access. Anyways, I learned so much. It was really good. I learned about the basics of Excel (which I desperately needed) as well as the endless ways you can use statistics to uncover and report on interesting and important stories.

Another perk to going to this class was that it was held in the Arizona State’s The Walter Cronkite School of Journalism and Mass Communication…

Oh my god, it was awesome. It had 14 computer labs, dedicated to design, photography, videography and radio. They have their own T.V. station (a PBS affiliate) that reaches a million people.

It was incredible. It’s a fairly new facility and it’s beautiful, really beautiful. It made me want to go to ASU.

So, that is it. Today we are going to go for a hike or two and then we leave tomorrow morning. Because of scheduling conflicts we will miss the awards ceremony. If The Sentinel were to win anything they will mail it to us. We will see.

There it is... even the sign is nice...

... that is there T.V. production room... that is live video...

... I'm not sure why he was being interviewed, but he was. The interviewer is a senior at ASU...

... here are a bunch of people I met at a Subway, they were going to a Japanese festival.

Back to Arizona

2010-02-25T12:06:00.000-08:00

And I’m off. There must be something about Arizona. I’m sitting in the Spokane Airport waiting for our plane. Nils Rosdahl and I are going to Phoenix for the ACP Journalism convention. It’s 7:52 am.

We’re taking a rather roundabout route. First we fly to Denver, where we spend two hours, and then we go to Phoenix. It’s a long way, but it’s cheaper than the direct flight, so oh well.

The convention should be pretty good. The classes they offer are usually interesting. Something new is that I will be giving a brief little presentation on managing a two-year newspaper. It’s at 9 am tomorrow morning, so I doubt it will be heavily attended. It should be interesting to give the talk. I’m not too worried about it, but we will see how it goes.

So, I’m excited. I love airports. I love traveling. Being here reminds me of leaving for India, which reminds me of leaving for Europe in September. Exciting stuff.

Opening to Attention

2010-02-24T15:55:00.000-08:00

I’ve been working on building a website for my mom. She is going to pay me upon completion for a fully functioning website. For her it’s a good deal because we can work closely together and because I’m much cheaper than a professional web designer. For me it’s a great deal because it lets me get my foot into the web design world.

But, it’s definitely a challenge. It’s complicated stuff and I have so much to learn. My goal has been to work on the website every day.

Anyways, a few days ago I was stumped. I couldn’t figure out how to do something. I’d been ramming my head against the problem for an hour or so and was getting pretty frustrated. Finally, I gave up on it. I moved on to other work.

The next day I went back to the problem. I hadn’t consciously thought about it in the interim, however, when I sat down to work on the problem it seemed quite obvious. It was resolved within minutes.

The subtle attention that my mind had given the problem had opened new doorways of understanding. Stepping back from the problem had allowed my mind to figure out new ways of understanding. It had opened up previously unexplored pathways.

So, this isn’t really the most profound insight in the world, however, it’s something I keep trying to remember. Personally I can get so caught up in instantaneous results. I want something to get done. I want to make clearly measurable progress. But, that isn’t always the way it’s going to happen. Sometimes the best thing that you can do is take a step back and just breath. Just see what arises in you.

In Anusara Yoga there are five key principles of alignment. They are applied sequentially in every pose. The very first one is “Open to Grace.” This can mean many things, however, one way of interpreting it that works for me is this ability to step back and allow things to arise. If you are shut down to the possibility of something good arising obviously nothing will. SO the first step, in a yoga pose or in anything really, is to open up and see what happens.

Pretty neat. So, I’m going to go now and let things arise.

First Real Yoga Class

2010-02-24T10:20:00.000-08:00

So, like many of you no doubt know, I’ve started teaching yoga. I’m working toward 20 hours of teaching experience. Once I get the requisite hours I will be able to take a teacher training. My mom will be in charge of this 102-hour training. It’s broken up into three separate weeks starting in June.

In an effort to fulfill these necessary hours I’ve started to teach private lessons and one beginning level class. I’ve done a few privates, however, last Friday I taught my first class.

It was an experience. I loved it, no doubt about it. But it definitely pushed my abilities. Leading people (six in this case) through these poses was not easy. You have to learn how to speak clearly and concisely. You have to be able to demo the poses while also talking people through them.

It’s a skill.

And, like the saying goes, “You don’t know what you don’t know.”

Teaching that one class taught me more about what I don’t know than anything else possibly could have.

Now when I go to my mother’s classes I have a much deeper appreciation for what she is doing. She makes it looks easy. She makes it look effortless. It’s not. It’s a skill, an art that has to be developed.

In addition to showing me what I don’t know, teaching the class also confirmed what I had already guessed. I love teaching Yoga. Something about the interplay of physicality and mental understanding just really lights me up. Being able to inhabit my body while also showing others how to inhabit their bodies in this form known as Yoga is just so much fun.

I feel so lucky to be able to be part of it.

A Miscarriage of Justice

2010-02-19T09:39:00.000-08:00

Hey, just read this article in the most recent Inlander. It's pretty terrible. By all accounts are justice system dropped the ball big time on this one.
Click Here to read the story.

The Sentinel (Issue 7) among other things

2010-02-16T16:47:00.000-08:00

Hey, so here is the newest issue of The Sentinel. Kind of a weird issue, nothing seemed to click or really flow together, however when it was all said and done it looked pretty good. A short issue, so pretty grey on the inside.
So far this semester is so much smoother. I'm getting better at my job and the editors are improving weekly. One thing taht has really helped is the addition of John Monnier. He is the new photo editor and he is rocking it. He is really good at coming with with ideas for photo stories and just a fun guy to work with.

On a unrelated note, I learned a new word today. It's 'panache' and it means "flamboyant confidence of style or manner." What a neat word! I'm not sure how to pronounce it, but whatever I'm definitely gonna drop that baby in casual conversation.

Leo, my brother just said he had read the word in Calvin and Hobbes. Nothing like high quality comic strips.

Wow... it actually makes sense now (obviously this isn't my original work)...

Too tired to think in anything but tight, tidy torrents of tepidity

2010-02-14T22:51:00.000-08:00

So, I’m tired. Dead tired (an odd turn of phrase). It was a production weekend and wow, it was a long one. The actual paper was pretty short (only 16 pages); however, for whatever reason, everything was a little harder. Things didn’t seem to click. It’s an OK issue, no huge lackings, however nothing of which I’m really proud. I’ll put the pages up in a day or two (we don’t distribute tell Tuesday) then you can judge for yourself.

So, like I said, I’m tired. I slept maybe three and a half hours last night and less than six the night before. When I finally finished up at The Sentinel I was about ready to collapse.

But instead of stumbling home and curling up in m nice big bed I managed to stumble my way over to the Kroc center. It’s becoming habitual for me. I finish working on the paper and I go work out. This might seem crazy, however I’ve grown to love it.

See, by the end of one of these marathon weekends, my brain is dead. It’s ready to shut down and watch T.V. for six days straight. The problem is, my body is in the exact opposite state. It’s been sitting for 16+ hours in front of a computer monitor and damnit it’s ready to go.

My brain is good at tricking my body. It tells it that it’s too tired and that it needs to rest. But my body knows and lately it hasn’t been taking any shit from my brain.

So, tonight when I crawled out of The Sentinel office, I forced myself to buck up ignoring my mind and listening to my body. So I went to the Kroc. At first, in an effort to trick my poor, worn out mind, I told myself I would just go and shoot some hoops. Maybe break a slight sweat, but nothing serious.

I got there and, predictably enough, my body took over. Next thing I know I’ve played four intense full-court games putting in a good two hours of physical aerobic activity.

And you know what? It felt great.

So, now I’m heading off to bed; fully confident that my mind and body are on the same page.

Plain Old Bizarre

2010-02-12T23:58:00.000-08:00

Today I had a bizarre encounter. I was picking up some pizza we had ordered for The Sentinel. We have this ad trade with Little Caesar’s Pizza. They make sub par pizza at above par prices, plus they’re semi-local. So between the two it’s a good deal.

I was fresh out of the Kroc Center, where I had just been involved in possibly the longest basketball game of my life. It was supposed to go to 11, however we finally ended (with my team losing) at the modest score of 20 to 18 (due to this little rule called win by two). To top it all off, the team I was playing against was straight out of the ‘80s. Their shorts were short and they were wearing high-top all-star shoes. It was bizarre.

So, you can imagine my mental state. I’m tired (physically) and pretty spaced out from all the endorphins (or whatever). I walk into Little Caesars, not really sure what I want. This isn’t the place to contemplate your order choices. They want you to get in, order and get out. Strictly business. Well, I wasn’t prepared for that. I begin to hem and haw over the various combination's of cheap food with fake cheese. The lady isn’t giving me lee-way. She wants me to hurry up.

So, I begin to order. I ask for pepperoni with olives, mushrooms, green peppers and onions.

Simple, right?

The girl didn’t think so.

“Wow!” she said, “Slow down.”

Seriously? Slow down? There were like five toppings. Not exactly a six-course meal, right?

But I understand. We all have bad days. We all space out.

Then, her manager leans in and says,

“Ah, sorry about her she has downs syndrome.”

Now I’m confused. He seems serious. I mean people don’t joke about downs syndrome right? It’s not like something you joke about. It’s pretty serious, right?

So, I back-pedal,

“Oh, I’m sorry…”

Meanwhile the girl is saying to the guy,

“Oh, shut up, I’m not retarded…”

“Yes, you are,” he said. Then he looked at me and said,

“She is seriously retarded.”

She continued to protest.

I got my pizza and left.

Starting off

2010-02-11T21:40:00.000-08:00

It’s been a while since I’ve posted. I’ve been semi-busy. The Sentinel only had a two-week break between Issue 6 and Issue 7. It’s going to be a small issue, but good. So, that has been taking up my time pretty well.

However, probably the newest thing that’s going for me is I’m getting into the yoga-teaching world. About three weeks ago I committed to attending my mother’s teaching training. It’s a three week, 102 hour course. Once I finish that I will be certified with Yoga Alliance. But, before I do that I have to have 20 hours of teaching experience. I have exactly zero. So I’ve taken on some private lessons (twice a week) and I’m going to start teaching an hour long beginning level yoga class. I’ve mapped it out so that I’ll be all done and ready to go by mid May!

Plus, I love teaching (I’ve taught two privates so far). It’s hard, for sure, but I just really enjoy it. I love Yoga already and to be able to teach other people (and hopefully get them loving yoga also) is just so much fun. I’ve got a lot to learn. Right now I just feel lucky that people will let me practice teach on them… I guess that is why they aren’t paying anything.

Also, in two weeks I’m going to be heading to Phoenix, Arizona with my adviser Nils Rosdahl for the Associate Collegiate Press (ACP) convention. I’m really looking forward to it, as these conventions are not only informative but also quite fun.

So, things are going well. But and I’m not even done yet. My travel plans (with Leo) are beginning to take form. As of right now (keep in mind things change) it looks like we might take a train from Holland to Moscow, Russia and then to Beijing, China and finally then to India… It’s a long trip but actually cheaper then flying. So, we will see how that works out.

Well, this post has just been a mix of things… nothing really that interesting, but I like to keep pumping ‘em out. Quality over quantity… right?

Here is a photo of a guy I interviewed. His name is Garth Profitt. He is a neat guy. 67 years old and is studying to get his personal trainer certificate. Really cool.

Here is the hoped for route!

And here is my flier advertising my free class.

The Sentinel (Issue 6)

2010-02-01T14:27:00.000-08:00

Hey, so no posts in a while. The semester started. Here is the newest Sentinel. I think that it's our best to date.

The Unatural Nature of Dusting

2010-01-19T13:50:00.000-08:00

I've been dusting.

Every week. The whole house. It's nice. Kind of meditative and contemplative. Plus I love watching the dust rags get progressively blacker... until low and behold it's all used up.

A very distinct feeling of accomplishment.

However, today I was dusting (actually I should still be dusting but I'm now writing about dusting) and I realized something. I realized dusting is unnatural.

You see what is dust? No, I don't mean what it is comprised of... I mean what is it's purpose? Why is it here? On this earth?

I think it's pretty obvious. Dust was created by God/Allah/Siva/The Big Bang/Thomas Edison/George Washington whatever you call it as a clock.

Dust settles on things that you haven't used in a while. It's a constant reminder of the inherently entropic nature of the universe. It shows you, very clearly, what you really don't need. There is dust on the treadmill? Well instead of dusting it maybe you should use it... or sell it. Dust on the bookshelves? Read more, or start fires with them.

See?

So, dusting is pretty unnatural. It's kind of like trying to trick the Universe. It's like saying "Oh hey universe, don't mind me, I'm using this treadmill... every day... no time for dust to settle not a speck." When in reality you are just dusting it every day.

If we were living in alignment with the Universe we wouldn't need to dust. We would only have a few things, and they would never grow dusty because we would be constantly using them. Cave men didn't dust their spears. Farmers don't dust their plows. They just use them.

My proposal is that we should allow things to grow dusty. Then after a few months or years we would realize, "Wow, everything in my house is covered in an inch of dust except the things I absolutely need."

Then we would be living in alignment with the Universe.

For now though, I'm going to dust. I"m going to continue to "fake" the universe out.

"Oh, hey universe! Look at me... I totally use these novelty potato scented, Jesus shaped candles..."

Grand Canyon

2010-01-08T21:42:00.000-08:00

I was at the Grand Canyon recently. I'd never been there before and let me say it was spectacular. At it's deepest it's 5,000 feet deep (1524 m) and 10 miles wide (16 km). Oh my god... yeah... it's huge.

It's so big that the eye can't really take it all in. It's like you are looking at a painting or a backdrop. Not something real... but it's very real.

Anyways, here are some photos from that, it was a great trip (I went with my Dad).

It was beautiful weather, however the snow made it impossible for us to hike into the canyon as the trails were too steep and we didn't have the appropriate gear.

Jailhouse Yogis

2010-01-08T21:30:00.000-08:00

I’m buzzed in. The door in front of me has no handle. No window. It is solid metal. Next to it there is a speaker pad, with a button. You push the button and somewhere, in the belly of this government building, someone decides whether or not you are allowed to enter.

I’m entering the Kootenai County Juvenile Detention Center.

I’m not a juvenile, nor am I in trouble with the law. My purpose at the facility is to assist a Yoga class. As I enter the building I begin to wonder what I’m thinking. What am I doing here? It’s the day after Christmas. In all honesty I should be lying at home playing with all the cool new things I got.

But somehow I’m entering this building. It’s 8 am.

I should back up. Start from the beginning.

Jennifer Harbour has been a student of my mother’s for several years. She is a lively, energetic person, who jumps headlong into whatever life throws at her. She doesn’t back down.

To go along with this tenacious personality, Jenn is also incredibly kind.

Two years ago Harbour began to teach at Juvy. Although initially there was opposition to the whole Yoga thing, she persisted, finally convincing the administration that it was a good idea. Since then, she has been teaching two classes per-week, every week. All for free.

One day after class at my mother’s studio, Jenn asked me if I would like to come to the jail sometime and help her teach a class. I said yes, without really considering what this meant. She then began to tell me, quite cheerfully, how tough some of the kids are. And how naturally good many of them are at Yoga.

Jenn and I enter Juvy. We leave all our valuables out front (where the inmates can’t get them), in little boxes. As we walk back into the building, going through various levels of security, Jenn begins telling me about how last week two kids got into a fight.

At first, after I realized I had committed to going to Juvy to teach Yoga, I hoped it would just disappear. That Jenn would forget, or change her mind.

She persisted. I finally realized I was irrevocably committed on Dec. 22 when Jenn called me, her voice full of excitement, to tell me I had gotten clearance to go to Juvy.

We arrive in a large multi-purpose room. It is dirty, but large. It smells vaguely of cafeteria food. The floor is grimy with traces of food scattered about.

Because it was the day after Christmas less kids were expected. Her classes have been as large as 50 kids. However, today there were only 28.

Buck shows up. He is a student of the yoga style known as Ashtanga (Jenn and I both practice Anusara). One of the differences between Ashtanga classes and Anusara classes is that the pace is quicker and more flowing. Some consider it to be physically harder than Anusara. I don’t know if I agree with this, however it is a different experience.

Buck is young (I would guess 30) and an amazing yogi.

He has been to Juvy once before. He doesn’t appear nervous. He seems centered and ready.

I would consider myself fairly competent Yogi. I’ve been around it my whole life, however it has only been in the last year or so that I’ve really engaged it. I’ve been going to class twice a week.

But I don’t consider myself to be amazing. I can do a lot of the basic poses, fairly well and I can do some of the tricky poses, somewhat passably.

Basically I didn’t know what I was going to be able to show these kids. Yes, I’m a male that does Yoga, but if I can’t do a press handstand, what is the point?

I’m nervous.

The kids file in. They are obviously happy to see Jenn and Buck. They greet me, friendly but reserved.

I’m nervous.

We all sit down, this big old smelly cafeteria, full of the outcasts of society.

I’m nervous.

Then class starts. The nervousness evaporates.

I’m just doing Yoga, something I love. Doing it alongside other young men. Young men from much different back grounds, different families, and different futures. But at this moment we are all on the same page.

I’m next to a big kid. Overweight. He doesn’t seem to be really present. He doesn’t do a lot of the poses. But then, as the class progresses, and as I continued to talk to him things begin to happen. He begins to do poses. He begins to interact.

It’s a physical, fiery practice. By the end we are all exhausted.

The kids begin to file out. They hug Jenn as they leave and thank Buck and me. These tough, criminal kids hug Jenn. They thank us.

I realize that these kids are on the outside of society. Most of them, from the moment they were born, had no strong protective matrix. They are out in the world on their own. And now, they are in Juvy. Many of them are waiting to turn 18 so they can move over to the big prison, the one for adults.

No one was is there for them.

One young man was released from Juvy the day before Christmas. His time was up. But his mom wouldn’t pick him up. She refused. This guy is 17, instead of trying to find him a foster home, the judge decided to keep him in Juvy for another month, until he turns 18.

His own mother wouldn’t pick him up. He’s stuck in Juvy.

These kids have nothing and have no one, except Yoga and Jenn. Jenn cares. Jenn loves these boys and girls.

I don’t think Yoga will save their lives (whatever that means). I don’t think it will necessarily keep them from doing violent and illegal things. Maybe it won’t have any lasting impact.

But, for one three-hour chunk of the day, these kids are loved and they know it. Buck and I are great, showing these kids the possibilities, but the true heroine is Jenn.

Jenn is the one who goes to the jail twice a week. The one who puts up with threats and dirty looks. The one who teaches Yoga on a cafeteria floor.

Coming Out of the Closet

2009-12-26T21:24:00.000-08:00

Well, it’s time. I’ve been in the closet too long. I just got to get this out there… public opinion be damned.

It’s hard though, you know. I’ve lived this double life for so long. I just don’t know what it will be like to be out in the open. It’s a scary step, however, a necessary one. There is no doubt about it. I can’t keep lying to myself and to those I love.

OK, here it goes…

I do Yoga.

Yup, I know. How could this happen. I played lots of different sports in highschool. I lifted weights. I’m a normal, heteroathletic guy. Or, at least I appeared to be.

I’ve known since I was 12. It was awkward when I first discovered how I was. I felt like I was wrong somehow. I mean “Yoga”? Who the hell does Yoga? Especially in North Idaho.

At that early age I was unaware of the implications of freely admitting my ‘alternate lifestyle’. Once, when talking to a young classmate, I told him I do Yoga. He said “Oh, my mom says talking to dead people is bad.” This made me nervous. I didn’t think I was talking to dead people… but who knows… maybe I was.

I don’t mean to complain. My family is very supportive. I knew, from the beginning that I could tell them. That they would love me unconditionally. That they would support me no matter how I chose to move my body.

But, their acceptance didn’t help me in the wider world of Northern Idaho. Friends would say, “Hey, lets go shoot hoops” and I would be forced to accept, when in fact all I wanted to do was touch my toes.

I don’t just do Yoga recreationally. No, it’s moved beyond that. It’s turned into something very serious. It’s turned into a pursuit that takes up a considerable amount of my time and energy.

So, next time you ask me, “Hey, lets drink so much vodka that we throw up all over each other,” remember this post. When I say, “Nah, I just washed my pants…” understand that what I’m really saying is “Nah, I would rather go twist my body into awkward positions and drink rice milk.”

Ah, I feel better already.

Snow

2009-12-14T09:05:00.000-08:00

So, it's snowed finally. Although I'm not crazy about this particular incarnation of precipitation it sure is pretty...

... photo from the front porch of my house...

... a guy running on the beach...

... Lake Coeur d'Alene.

Pumpin Iron... Again

2009-12-12T07:57:00.000-08:00

A long long time ago, in a very far off land, I wrote a blog about lifting weights with very nice, yet condescending Indian men (click here).

Things have changed. I'm no longer in the same life circumstance, but I find myself frequenting gyms... still... you would have thought I would be cured by now.

No such luck.

So, now I'm going to American gyms. The place I currently have a membership at is called the Kroc center. It's a mega building. Inside this modest behemoth of a shelter lies two swimming pools (a competition pool and a “fun” pool), an indoor track, a climbing wall, a weight room, an aerobic room, various fitness studios, a giant auditorium, a church and three basketball courts (I'm sure I'm missing things... oh yes there is a coffee shop too).

Currently, I would like to focus on the basketball courts. They are great. I played basketball in high school and following graduation was pretty sure I would never partake in the game again. I was tired of it. I moved on to other, better things. Like Bike Riding, swimming, needle work etc.

But, like an ill advised love affair with a rich golfer, I just couldn't give up basketball. So, after two months of longingly glancing at the Kroc's basketball courts I took the plunge. I went to shoot hoops.

It was a steep 'remembering' curve. I was rusty, but luckily it comes back pretty quickly. Unfortunately, I was never that skilled to begin with, so there just wasn't a whole lot to come back.

But I did remember how much I loved the sport. And something else changed. I wasn't competitive about it anymore. Sure, I love to win. And I work hard to beat whatever team I'm playing against. But I don't care. I don't have anything invested. My team wins... great. We lose... great.

This is new. In high school I cared. Deeply. I was intense. I was competitive. I once got in a fight during a game.

Now, when people talk shit to me I don't really care. I'll do my best, and we will see how it works out.

And there is a lot of shit talking.

In sharp contrast to my experience in the Indian gym, most men at the Kroc aren't interested in talking to you, or helping you. This doesn't mean they are unfriendly. I've met some great guys there. But something happens when us males begin lifting weights, or playing basketball. Some switch is turned. We take one step closer to being just pure animals, fighting over a slab of mammoth or something.

Of course, it's all nicely contained. It's all based around this game called “basketball”. People don't completely lose it and rip each others throats out. It's still civilized. But you can see the darker side of it. The pure aggression and ferocity.

And you know what? That is part of the reason I love going. It's a chance to just run all of that out of myself. To get all that latent aggression out in a safe, socially acceptable manner. As opposed to a dangerous, socially acceptable manner, like free climbing, or the running of the bulls.

And so far, I haven't let it get personal. I get aggressive, I dive for the ball, I push people, but it's not personal. None of it. And I don't let it effect my feelings (so far). I don't associate the intensity of the situation with a person.

So many of the men there do. It's personal to them. Either they are blaming another player or they are blaming themselves. You can see it. And it gets heated. Fights have almost started. Elbows have been thrown (it's when you hit someone with your elbow, not actually throwing elbows at each other... that would be sick).

And I guess that is all part of it. So far I haven't gotten sucked in. I don't think I will. I'm going to keep it all in it's proper perspective.

Seeing this reality in American gyms and contrasting it with Indian gyms makes me wonder what causes this huge difference. The best explanation I can come up with is that as a culture we are more aggressive and driven to succeed. So, when us American men (I'm just focusing on men, because as of yet, I haven't been cussed out by a woman) go work out, we carry over this aggressive, success driven mentality.

Meanwhile, our Indian counterparts are saving dumb white kids from falling metal bars...

Winter Day

2009-12-12T07:35:00.000-08:00

I spent the majority of yesterday studying. I'm taking this online logic class, which is great. It allows me to work whenever I want and I don't have to go to class.

The downside, to this upside, is that generally I wait until the last minute to do everything. And I mean Everything...

So, yesterday I studied for a good six hours. I basically went over a month's worth of work in one day. Last night, at 10 pm I took the test (the deadline was midnight). It all went well, but sometimes I find myself wondering if maybe it would be better for me to plan my time better. Maybe just do a little work each week.

Personally, I think it sounds like a bad idea.

Well, that being said, I did find some time to go for a great walk. Yesterday it was cold but very sunny here.

There is this hill in Coeur d'Alene called Tubbs Hill. It's a great 1.5 mile walk. The trail is on the lake. It's incredibly beautiful, and yesterday was no exception. None of these photos are mind blowing, but I think at least they begin to convey the beauty of this area.

This is the resort side of Tubbs Hill...

...many of the rocks down by the lake are covered in ice...

... this is the backside of Tubbs.

Issue 5

2009-12-07T17:32:00.001-08:00

Issue Five

12 page special section.

The Sentine (Issue 4)

2009-11-28T13:11:00.000-08:00

So here is Issue 4, finally.

Old Photos

2009-11-28T12:56:00.000-08:00

I was looking through my photos and I found these from my India trip. Thought I'd post them.

Madurai...

... people watching a parade in Cochin...

...apartments in Cochin...

... a man taking photos of the parade.

Catch Up

2009-11-26T16:18:00.000-08:00

So, it's been a while since I've written. I'll just do a quick recap of everything that has gone on.

The Sentinel

Issue 3 of The Sentinel came out on Nov. 16. It was a crazy issue. At 11:00 pm on Saturday night the server that all of the work is held on disappeared. We could no longer access the pages we had designed, the articles we had written etc.

I did what I could but it quickly became apparent there was nothing I could do. I called our emergency tech support guy and he told us that the server was down for routine maintenance. We weren't notified. He said that it may or may not be up and running by Sunday afternoon.

It sucked. So, after running around the NIC campus trying to find the guy who was (supposedly) doing all the work, I decided to send all the editors home and just come in early to see what could be worked out.

I left NIC at 1:30 am. I slept until 5:00 and then drove on back. The Server wasn't up, so I went to sleep for 30 minutes. Woke up, checked the Server. Still not there. Went back to sleep. This cycle continued for about 3 hours.

Finally, that little gray globe of hope popped up.

Almost immediately my tech support friend called telling me we had an hour to get everything we needed off the server.

Well, to make a long story short, the paper got done. It involved a lot of flash drives and a lot of waiting around for things to transfer.

Possibly the most frustrating thing about this all was that the server stayed up the whole time we were using the flash drives. Yet, I didn't dare use the server, for fear that it would disappear.

But the important thing was the the paper got out on time, with no major mistakes. There were some minor ones, unfortunately. It certainly won't win any design awards but at least it's respectable.

Arizona

So on Nov. 16 (Monday) I got on a plane headed for Prescott, Arizona. The trip was a combination Yoga adventure/friend visit. I did a Yoga workshop there and also got to spend some quality time with some good friends of mine. It was a great trip, full of sun and natural beauty.

I was planning on bringing my camera to document the trip, however, at the last minute I decided to forget. I have this thing about cameras. I love taking photos, I love looking at photos. Yet I hate taking photos and looking at them.

Yeah, confusing.

I think what it comes down to is that I find it hard to really concentrate on what is going on if I'm always trying to take a cool looking photo.

I know that really good photographers don't have this problem. They actually focus more and experience more. Me, I just get frustrated. I want to convey the beauty or whatever it is in a photo, yet I always find my photography lacking. So, often I simply won't take photos. Which, isn't the way that you get better at taking photos. It's a dilemma.

So, that is why there are no photos of my trip.

So, yup that basically recaps the last week or two. Right now it's thanksgiving. My grandma is here from LA.

Starting tomorrow I will begin working on the upcoming issue of The Sentinel. It's the last one of the semester and it's going to be a big one (and good). So I'm getting a jump on that.

Well, that about sums it up.

Have a great thanksgiving.

Approaching Arizona

2009-11-15T22:59:00.000-08:00

Well, I've been very busy with The Sentinel and other commitments. I don't really have much to say in this post, except a new issue of The Sentinel is out (more on that later) and I'm going to Arizona for a week.

I'm going to visit some friends that live there and just generally have a nice time. It won't be significantly warmer there, however, I'm sure it will be milder than it has been around here lately (try 30 degrees, in the day).

So, I'm excited for that. I love traveling and seeing new places and people. I'm looking forward to it.

I will bring my camera, so hopefully I have some photos to share when I return. We will see.

ACP Best of Show

2009-11-01T21:27:00.000-08:00

Well, I just found out today that the most recent edition of The Sentinel won Best of Show at the national Associated Collegiate Press convention in Austin, Texas (ACP).

It was pretty awesome to learn that we won that award. We've won it the last couple of years in a row, so I was glad to continue that tradition.

As happy as I am with that, I'm even happier knowing that we have so much to improve on. This last issue was by far the best issue we've produced this year, however, there is plenty to get better at. Jake Donahue (basically a media genius) critiqued our paper, right before it went to the convention, and I'm confident that our next issue will be even better than the last, due in large part to his merciless and brutally accurate observations (to put it nicely).

So, yahoo. We won. But we can do a lot better and I'm confident we will. We have the staff, the adviser and, most importantly, the desire.

Speaking of desire, as much as I love winning awards myself, the real reason that I feel driven to succeed at this job of journalism at NIC is because of the tradition of success. Recently The Sentinel featured an article entitled "Decades of Dominance" (it was about the wrestling team). Well, the same could be said for the newspaper. The Sentinel has been known to be one of the best college newspapers in the country for years. This is because of the incredible knowledge and dedication of Nils Rosdahl (the adviser).

As the managing editor I feel responsible for keeping this tradition alive. Like I said, personally I love winning shit (who doesn't?) but the main motivator is continuing the tradition.
And the truth is, I couldn't do it without the tradition. I'm good at what I do, but I'm not a maverick genius... I rely on the knowledge of those that have come before me... quite heavily in fact.

So, here is to continued success.

The Sentinel (Issue 3)

2009-10-27T12:47:00.000-07:00

The newest Sentinel. Best one yet, but still plenty to work on.

The Sentinel (every week)

2009-10-19T08:20:00.000-07:00

Yeah, I know it sounds too good to be true. The Sentinel traditionally only comes out every three weeks. That means you, the anxious reader, has to wait approximately 21 days. That means 21 days without news from the college by the lake. That means 21 days without finding out what is going on with ASNIC, the drama department so on and so forth.

Well, no more.

From now on the Sentinel website will be updated, weekly. Giving you, the anxious reader, your much needed fix.

So, stop whining and click here...

or...

Here.

Bourgeois (or Bushwa?) Suffering

2009-10-18T12:06:00.000-07:00

This post is about suffering, and all the forms that it manifests in my daily life...
For instance, yesterday, I was biking to a coffee shop. I was going to meet my brother and just hang out and enjoy a nice cup of coffee.

I had this nice white long-sleeved tee-shirt on. It was really nice, really comfortable and really good looking. I felt happy to be wearing this shirt.

So, like I said I was biking. Going along, riding next to this beautiful lake, just enjoying it all.

And then, you know what happened?

These freaking bugs came out of now where. Literally thousand upon thousands of these dumb obnoxious worthless gnats.

And you know what they did?

They didn't get out of my way. They plastered themselves against my face, my hair, my nice white shirt, my pants, my eyes.

I could barely see, I could barely continue forward.

And that isn't even the worst part.

The worst part, was that when I finally reached my destination, I tried to brush them off, and they splattered all over my beautiful, pure white shirt. Leaving all these ugly yellow blood marks.

The nerve.

This is just one instance of the daily suffering that I'm forced to endure.
Another great example.

About a month ago I go a new computer. With the new computer came a new I-pod, which was part of the whole deal. Well, I decided to engrave something on the back of my I-pod. After thinking about it long and hard, I decided I wanted to write Bourgeois Suffering. Bourgeois is a french word that means middle-class. I figured that putting this on the back of my I-pod would be a good reminder to me and others about the daily hardships I'm forced to face living in North Idaho. See above.

Well, not being French, and not understanding how to spell French words, I decided to Google and determine the most appropriate way to spell 'Bourgeois' (as you can see, I learned how to spell it correctly, alas too little too late).

Being hopelessly American I spelled it Bushwa (it makes sense, if you think about it).
So, I Googled it, just to double check.

That didn't help at all, all the dictionaries told me 'Bushwa' means nonsense or bullshit. Well, I decided that the online dictionaries didn't know what they were talking about. So I went ahead and got Bushwa Suffering engraved on my I-pod.
Now, you might say this is my fault.

It's not.

Let me explain how this is just another example of my daily suffering.

I live in North Idaho. Because I live here I know next to nothing about French. I took Spanish in school. Spanish isn't French. French words are different than Spanish words, and Spanish words are different than English words.

I'm a victim of ignorance.

Henry B. Adams said, “Nothing in education is so astonishing as the amount of ignorance it accumulates in the form of inert facts.”
I couldn't have said it better myself.

See, clearly I have been the victim of a faulty education.

So, don't be pointing your fingers at me saying that I'm full of Bushwa. It's just not the case. I am suffering. Deeply suffering, from a lack of knowledge, brought on by “inert facts.”

And yes, there are still bugs in my nose.

Note: Pema Chodron, a Tibetan Buddhist nun, coined the phrase Bourgeois Suffering. Obviously she doesn't have anything on me in the suffering department.

Institutionalized Blindness

2009-10-14T07:31:00.000-07:00

I live in Northern Idaho. I love it here, it's beautiful and peaceful.
For me at least.
A few weeks ago, Rachel Dolezlal, an art teacher at the local college (North Idaho Community College) found a noose on here porch. Dolezal is mixed race and a human rights advocate. She is strong and not quite about her work here.
And she has become a target for hate groups. The community response here was typical, people were outraged. Angry that that kind of thing still happens in this area.
And its terrible. And people should be outraged.

But we are missing something. I couldn't put my finger on it for a long time. Everyone is supportive. Everyone is committed to driving hate and racism out of this area. But something felt wrong.

And then I went to the Action Against Hate benefit dinner (through Gonzaga University). It was a great event, and, don't get me wrong, the organization behind it is doing good stuff.

But, it epitomized the problem, in my mind.

Every speaker, every person honored (minus one) was white. There were few colored people in the audience. There were none up on the stage. It was a bunch of well meaning white men(mostly men) talking about all the great work they had done.

And, yes admitting there was a lot more work to be done.

But, the irony was irresistible. And no one talked about it. No one brought it up. Not a single speaker recognized their innate inability to truly feel what someone of color feels.

I'm white. I don't know what it's like to be discriminated against (I'm also a man, so I've got a lot going for me). So, how can I, a white male, really 'get' what it's like to be black? Or native American? Or Asian? Or any of the other of a multitude of marginalized groups?

In my mind that is the problem currently. People are doing wonderful work. People are strongly against racism. Against hate. Discrimination. All of that. But, the institutions, the processes that surround the good work being done, are fundamentally flawed. They are fundamentally discriminatory. And people don't want to, or simply can't reflect on the institutions they are caught up in.

And, like I said, I'm white. So everything I observe, everything I think is colored (bad pun) by this. And quite possibly everything I've said isn't true, possibly I'm full of it and don't know what I'm talking about. Hopefully, however, I have the humility to recognize this and defer to the knowledge and life experience of someone who has actually been discriminated against, who has actually been hated for something as ridiculous as the color of their skin.

The NIC Sentinel (Issue 2)

2009-10-05T13:01:00.000-07:00

This is the second issue of the Sentinel. It looks good. Photos printed well etc. It was a short one (only 16 pages) but overall I'm happy with it.

The next one, which comes out on Oct. 26, is going to be much longer (24 pages, and possibly a tab section). So we really don't have that much turn around time. I'm excited though.

I love my job right now. It feels so good to be part of a paper. I love seeing it go from rough (or no) ideas to a reality that you can hold in your hand. Really a unique and wonderful experience.

Anyways, comments are always welcome.

Again, these are just the pages I designed.

The front page...

... just an inside opinion page, nothing special, although the art work is good...

.. again inside page...

... the volleyball page. As you can see they are currently ranked No. 1 in the nation...

... this is quite possibly my favorite page ever. It all worked out, and despite my fears it printed great.

Photos

2009-09-29T23:10:00.000-07:00

Here are three pictures. These photos were shot for the annual Race for the Cure. It's a fundraiser to help 'fight' breast cancer. It starts at the NIC campus and then works it's way around Coeur d'Alene. Quite a lot of people were there this year.

A few things

2009-09-29T22:45:00.000-07:00

Well I don't really have any one coherent theme for this post. So here are just some random topics (well not just random, how about just unrelated to one another).

Weather

The weather is changing. I love summer and each year I look toward the changing of the seasons with a something bordering on dread. I don't want to be cold, locked up inside etc.

And then the weather changes... and well it's great. Today was the first 'real' fall day in Couer d'Alene and I loved it. I biked a lot (to get to various places) and it was wonderful to be outside in the cold and just feel the crispness of the air.

I think my deep rooted dislike of colder weather goes back to my high school days. I liked high school, actually I think it would be fair to say I loved it (well parts of it). However, it prevented me from doing quite a lot of things. Instead of being out side I was forced to be inside, sitting at a desk. So, I never really got to enjoy the nuances of the colder seasons.

Now that I'm emancipated things are changing. Yes, technically I'm in school, but college is a different beast (well at least for me). I have more free time. I can actually go outside and enjoy the cold weather. So, I'm all ready for the Northwest Winter. It's going to be a good one.

Biking

The last week or so has been an excellent bike week. Unlike today the weather has been warm (actually hot) and the sun has been shining. I've been putting in a lot of miles, going on 40 mile rides every other day or so.

There is something about road biking that is so amazing for me. It's so peaceful, so quite. I'm able to go places and see the natural beauty of this area in way that I never would be able to, if it weren't for my bike.

Plus it is such a clean way of moving. I don't mean environmentally clean (although it is), I mean just clean feeling. It's just you, the bike and the road. If you have a bike that is efficient and tuned up... oh boy, what a great feeling.

The Sentinel

And finally, and definitely not least, the Sentinel. It's production week, so starting yesterday I've been working fairly non-stop. It's a shorter issue, so not as much to do. However, there is still plenty of things going on. I think I said it in my last post but putting out a paper is a pretty amazing process. It's just this huge outburst of energy. When you finish you feel drained, but so good.

And I really love it. Honestly, all the work and frustration aside I love working on the paper.

Well, that is it. I think I'll post a few photos I took last weekend for some college events. I'll throw up the PDF's of the Sentinel when it's all done Sunday at noon. And until then, adios.

The NIC Sentinel (Issue One)

2009-09-20T19:33:00.000-07:00

Well, it has happened. The first issue of the Sentinel is coming out tomorrow morning. It was a long weekend, but overall things went pretty well. There are a lot of things to improve on (no doubt there) but I think that the staff is willing and capable of stepping up to that challenge.

I'm heartened.

Personally I love production weekends. These weekends are such a high of creativity, energy and chaos. I feel like I disappear for two or three days. I don't think about anything but the paper.

All that being said, Oh my god I'm glad it's over. This one was stressful, I'm not going to lie. My first time ever as the Managing Editor. It was all of the editors (mostly) first time designing or doing anything like that. So, there was a lot of stress and last minute decisions/designs.

Anyways here are some selected PDFs of the paper. Selected meaning the pages I designed.

Front page, A1...

...second opinion page...

... back page of A section...

...and the back page of the B section. This is possibly the only whitewater rafting page ever created with no (that's right) no actual rafting photos. But it looks OK, other than that huge problem.

Guest Writer

2009-09-15T23:08:00.000-07:00

Well hey, like I just said in my last post I haven't been writing much. So I decided to introduce a 'guest writer'. His name is Leo Francovich (no relation) and he is an up-and-coming writer. Check it out, it's worth your time.

Procrasti-nahilldoitlater

This will be shoddy.

It is 11:24 PM on a Monday night. I have just returned from working at Rogers Ice Cream and Burgers. While there, I scoop ice cream, and flip (guess it) burgers. I have just realized that I have an article due for the Illuminati Wednesday. P.S. for anyone who can write, you can do this too. But wait, the article is due Wednesday and I am writing it Monday night. Now, what would you call that? That is called motivation, but that is, fortunately, not what this article is about. This article is about procrastination, my other skill. Now, don’t get me wrong. I am very good at what I do, and procrastination is one of the things I do. So, have no qualms about my qualifications in this subject, but before I get sidetracked, let’s dive in.

To better describe the complex and vast field that is procrastination, I will examine its affect on my own life, starting in fourth grade. Now, as you all know, fourth grade was a great time for me, I would consider it my peak. I had straight A’s, a scooter, lots of fourth grade friends, and a bowl cut. Now, you may ask, “What happened?” I’ll tell you what happened, I ate the fruit of knowledge. I did not eat this fruit in fifth or sixth grade; I merely eyed it warily, wondering how it got into my life and when it would leave. However, in seventh grade, after years of curiosity and confusion, I sank my teeth deep into the fruit and discovered my lack of purpose. What I discovered is a simple cause for procrastination: There are so many better things to be doing than homework. You have no idea.

After I ate the fruit of knowledge I started to devote myself to my new faith, missing some deadlines and barely scraping by others. I had started down the path. Perhaps this was the reason for my straight D average I achieved that year, or perhaps, as I suspect, I was simply wronged. Either way, I had stopped turning things in on time, and I was consistently coming up short of expectations. Now, many of my well-adjusted, mature, seventh grade colleagues decided that they would postpone gratification. If they wanted to do something, they would do their homework first. Favorite TV show? How about some English? Local rodeo? Let’s see if you can buck that pre-algebra! Mother in hospital? That is just the science of life, my friend. I could not achieve this academic foresight, however, and I lived a life of instant gratification. Once I started I could not stop.

This brings me to my next point: procrastination is like freight train, a late one, but more importantly, something that does not stop easily. Once you lose one assignment, you lose them all, and you find yourself pushing a vacuum for Carl. If I remembered anything from my math classes, I would tell you that it builds exponentially, but I don’t think I read that chapter. The beginning of each school year for the last six years started the same for me, I would try to work hard for about a week or so, I’d lose steam and stop turning things in, and then I’d be fighting an uphill battle, which is not something you want to be doing.

So, forgive me for growing up a little, but this article is here to warn you against procrastinating, which is probably what several worried teachers (the ones that aren’t from Indiana) reading this article are waiting for me to say. Control the freight train, do your homework, and visit your mother in the ER later, there will always be another accident. Don’t do it for glory, for GPA, or even for God, do your homework for self-respect and a dedication to education. Do all of this and do it on time, and you will become whatever you want to be: an accountant, an ornithologist, or a gladiator. Hopefully the latter.

P.S. If you were wondering what sort of fruit it was, the fruit of knowledge I mentioned earlier. It wasn’t an apple or anything like that. It was a kiwi.

More Photos

2009-09-15T21:23:00.000-07:00

Well, I've been doing a lot of photo posts. I like these, but I think it's important to write too. So, hopefully I get back to that. But honestly photo posts are quite a bit quicker to do, so for now this is what I'm going with...

... here is a photo of Heidi Groover (I took this almost a year ago)...

... and here is the same photo that I posted a few days ago, but in color. I didn't really realize that it worked in color too, so that is kind of neat.

Yoga Photo

2009-09-13T21:39:00.001-07:00

Hey, well I've been taking some photos for my mother of her yoga classes. I've taken a lot, and some have turned out, while others haven't (as usual, thank god for digital). Anyways, this is one of my favorites.

Stealing. An effective way of making change.

2009-09-12T20:42:00.000-07:00

Well, I've done it. For a long time I've lusted after this program. It's the premier photo editing program. It gives you the power to do anything, more or less. But it also comes at a hefty price. 1,000 dollars a pop is kind of a lot of money.

And then I discovered the student edition. It's the same program. As far as I know. And it only cost 200 dollars. Quite a deal, if you ask me.

I'm not a hundred percent sure why Adobe would offer their software at an 80 percent discount. I was thinking about it and I decided that it probably had to do with stealing. I imagine that students are the primary 'stealers' of programs (like Photoshop). So, I guess it would make sense for Adobe to try and incite us students to go through the proper channels.

Basically, I think that the rampant downloading of programs from sites like BitTorrent, encouraged Adobe to lower their prices, for some. So, stealing can be a form of protest, yes? I think these kind of programs are worth a lot of money, but asking a college kid to spend 1,000 dollars is kind of ridiculous. So, keep stealing, maybe the price will go down even farther. Or listen to your conscience and let others do the stealing for you.

Some good old color replacement.

2009-09-07T15:58:00.000-07:00

I know color replacement is kind of old hat if you will, however, I still think it's one of the coolest things you can do. So, I took this photo of two 'bucket drummers' that I took while in Chicago, and messed with its color...

... so here is the original...

... and here it is with a B&W mask on it...

... and here is the good old replaced color.

NIC Soccer

2009-09-07T08:16:00.000-07:00

Here are some photos I took from a recent NIC soccer game. I've never shot soccer before, I thought it was pretty fun. It's hard though. I can imagine what an amazing shot would look like, however, actually taking that shot is a different story. Anyways here they are.

Biking into the future

2009-09-04T22:36:00.000-07:00

Well, it has finally happened. I've gotten clip in bike pedals. Wonders of wonder, I'm in love. You might ask "What took you so long to make this happen?" And I would respond, "Well, it was a combination of inertia, monetary ineptitude and just plain old fashioned conservatism." Overall very misguided.

For those of you who don't bike, clip in bike pedals are just pedals that you clip your bike shoes into. They have clips that connect with your shoe, thus the name 'Clip in bike pedal' (Wow). So, what is the big advantage? Well it's in the pull. You see when you bike with clips you can both push and pull. Pushing and pulling makes you go faster, which is the only important thing when you bike (just kidding).

So, how did I happen to get myself a pair of 'clips'? You see a few weeks ago I thought to myself, 'Wow, I need some clips.' So I went price shopping. Boy did that change my mind. They are way too expensive. So, I decided I didn't need them. I make an awful lot decisions this way.

Anyways a few days ago I was poking around in my bike stuff. The brakes on my bike have been a little shaky, which is kind of scary. I'll find myself going down a hill, just hoping to god my brakes come through and slow me down before I fly into a busy road or something similar.

Anyways, I was looking into this, trying to fix it, when I came across them. Yes, clips. I couldn't believe it. So, I ran inside to our shoe rack. And sure enough, there they were, bike shoes. All this time! The deal was a good friend of mine, John Sahlin, gave me these shoes and clips almost a year ago. I don't know why I didn't put them on my bike immediately, but I didn't.

So, now I have bike clips. Now I've joined the 21st century biking culture. Well, not exactly. These clips are probably 15 years old, but hey, who cares, they're new to me. That is the great thing about coming late to a fad or technology, the old, outdated stuff seems brand new to you. Plus it's cheap (or free, in my case).

Anyways, I inaugurated them with a nice 30 mile ride. I'll tell you what, it makes a huge difference, gone are the days of just pushing, welcome pull!

Look! Clip in pedals...

... and the bike itself...
&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;a href="http://www.mapmyride.com/ride/united-states/id/-couer-d&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;#039;alene/707125212084160874"&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;Bike from NIC to Praire&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/a&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br/&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;a href="http://www.mapmyride.com/find-ride/united-states/id/-couer-d&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;#039;alene"&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;Find more Bike Rides in Couer D&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;#039;alene, Idaho&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/a&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;... and finally, the inaugural ride.

Hundredth Post

2009-09-04T00:17:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm home from my Chicago adventures. It's good to be back. I've been incredibly busy with my new job as the managing editor of NIC's newspaper, The Sentinel. Basically the impetus for creating this post is that I just want to be able to join the hundred post club. I don't know if there is such a thing, but if there is, you can count me in. Because this is my hundredth post!

When I first started blogging. I kind of felt like it had no purpose. Sometimes I still feel like that (like right now, for instance). But generally speaking I feel like blogging is a great way to express what you are seeing and thinking. Everyone has a different perspective, on everything. So, being able to easily publish that on the web is wonderful. Gone are the days of newspapers having hegemonic control over our media consumption.

It also helps to know that you have readers. When I first started blogging I installed a program called Google Analytics. It lets me know when people are looking at my blog, where they are looking at it from (just a general region, no specific addresses), how long they are looking at it and a slew of other things that I don't really understand. It keeps me motivated, so thanks to everyone who has followed this blog.

Speaking of blogging (because that is of what we are speaking) you all should check out my good friend Heidi Groover's blog. She is spending the semester/year in Ghana. She is an amazing writer and is obviously seeing some amazing stuff. So check it out here.

Anyways, I'm going to sign off now. Again, thank you all, your readership means a lot to me. I will post again soon, hopefully it will deal with biking our journalism. We will see!

More photos from Chicago

2009-08-30T00:23:00.000-07:00

Well, today was a busy day. We went to the Cub's game and spent several hours walking around Chicago. It was a good day, overall. So, here are some of the photos...

... the Willis (formerly Sears tower), we didn't actually go up, it cost way too much and there was a huge line...

... just a big building...

... a pitcher during the game...

... the view from the 96th floor of the Hancock Building...

...another photo from the Cub's game.

Panoramic shot of Wrigley field

2009-08-29T20:22:00.000-07:00

Wrigley field. We watched the cubs beat the Mets 11 to 4.

More Photos

2009-08-28T22:14:00.001-07:00

Here are some more photos. Sorry they aren't edited better (or at all) right now I don't have the time or the equipment.

The street in front of our hotel...

... basically the same picture...

...a corner in downtown Chicago...

... Ira David Levy (left) and Nils Rosedahl. Well, that is it for now. More later.

The trip thusfar

2009-08-28T17:41:00.000-07:00

Well, we just arrived in Chicago. The last day we spent in Indianapolis, Indiana. We arrived at 3:30 pm and immediately headed toward the convention hotel. It was the Westin, a fairly nice place. After checking into our room we turned right around and got some chips and salsa at a local place. We probably spent an hour or two there. While there we happened to meet up with a woman named Ellie. She was a Chicago native and was fun to talk to. We got the inside scoop on Chicago from her and she gave us a card to the Chicago Art Institute (so we don't have to pay).
From there we headed to the convention's opening dinner. There were free drinks and food. I spent the rest of the night networking and meeting people from all areas of the journalism industry.

The next morning we woke up and headed to the SPJ's award ceremony. There we received our second place award.

The plan was to leave for Chicago immediately after the award ceremony, however, fate planned things differently. First, my professor, Nils Rosedahl, lost the keys to the rental car. This was disastrous. We spent a good hour and a half looking for the darn things. Finally, one of the valets found them lying on the floor and returned them to us. This was a huge blessing, as the penalty for losing the keys would have cost us almost 500 dollars.

So, we were ready to go, except for one minor detail, we had no idea where our car was parked. Well, that isn't totally true, we had a general idea, however, it was way to general. We spent another hour wandering around down town Indianapolis looking for our parking garage. Luckily for us we found it (eventually).

And then we hit the road. We were about and hour and a half behind schedule, which placed us firmly in the worst of the Indianapolis/Chicago rush hour traffic. The drive to the outskirts of Chicago took three hours, to get the next 40 miles took an additional two hours. It was a long day, to say the least.

Additionally, the downtown Chicago traffic was horrendous (at least by North Idaho standards). While driving we had the bad or good luck, depending on your perspective, of seeing the monthly Critical Mass ride in Chicago. There were thousands of bikers taking up the whole street. Traffic was completely stopped. I thought it was awesome, most other people didn't.

So, as I've said before, it was a long day. But well worth it. Nil's friend Ira David Levy, the adviser of Chicago area college (I forget which one), had set us up at the Seneca, a very, very nice hotel in the middle of downtown Chicago. We are currently staying in a 400 dollar a night suit, however, because of Levy's connections we are getting it for 160 dollars. Lucky us.

We went out to dinner with him tonight (at an Armenian place, so good). Levy is creating a T.V. show called Pedal America (click here). The premise of the show is that he will bike all over the U.S. and film it. It will be run by PBS affiliate sites. I love the idea.
Anyways, it was a great day overall. Tomorrow we will tour the city and then go to a Cubs game at 3:10 pm.

Here are some photos I've taken while here...

Critical mass riders taking up the street in Chicago...

...more bikers...

... the Willis (formerly Sears) tower...

... (left) Eli Francovich (me), Jake Donahue and Nils Rosedahl accept the SPJ award.

Another trip

2009-08-26T22:33:00.000-07:00

Well, it's been a busy week, and it's just continuing to get busy. Tomorrow morning at 6:30 am I'm flying to Indianapolis, Indiana for a Journalism workshop. I'm going with my journalism adviser Nils Rosedahl and the old managing editor of The Sentinel, Jake Donahue.

Under Jake's watch The Sentinel won quite a few prestigious awards. Among them was a second place trophy. Second place in the nation that is. So, we are going to Indianapolis in order to accept this award and attend the convention at which there will be multiple talks on various journalism related topics.

Although I wasn't actually on the paper staff when we won the second award, I'm able to tag along so as to soak up the whole environment of the place, while also learning things at the various talks.

However, it's not just a business trip. We will spend two days in Indianapolis and then drive to Chicago. There we will spend another two days. While in Chicago we will attend a Cubs game and just hang out in the city.

And the kicker? It's all paid for. NIC is going to pay for our flight, our lodging and give us spending money. All to attend a journalism conference. Yeah, journalism is the way to go (well, except for the recession and all).

Anyways, I will be posting regularly from Indiana (I hope). Also, I will be taking my camera this time, so keep an eye out for some photos.

Bike Tripin'

2009-08-26T22:02:00.000-07:00

Well, as promised the future held a bike trip. It wasn't quite what I expected (distance wise), but nonetheless it was awesome. I went with eight friends of mine, who I worked with over the summer. Unfortunately, I forgot to bring my camera, therefor all the pictures I will post are from Chris Mathews camera.

Despite the fact that we didn't end up biking all that much we still found plenty of things to do.

First we climbed to the top of this old railroad bridge. It was about 70 feet in the air. Although we briefly contemplated jumping off, we decided that was a bad life choice. Here, Matt 'Scar' Megard and Jeff 'Starship' Dickman, walk along a catwalk.

Here again you can see how tall this structure was. Additionally, at the top of this ladder there was a yellow jackets nest. Brett 'Wulf' Meggard and Hannah 'Trex' Joseph ascend the ladder.

Once we finally reached Harrison we decided to hit up the waterfront. There just so happened to be a pylon with a ladder. So, I decided to jump off.

We ended up staying at a place called Bell Bay. It's a great campsite and the caretakers are amazing. After we arrived in Harrison we had to bike another five or so miles to the campsite. These last miles proved to be the hardest due to a very steep and windy hill.

But it was worth it. Overall it was a great trip. Here is a map of the route that we took.

&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;a href="http://www.mapmyride.com/ride/united-states/id/plummer/472125132415711188"&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;08/26/2009 Route&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/a&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br/&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;a href="http://www.mapmyride.com/find-ride/united-states/id/plummer"&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;Find more Bike Rides in Plummer, Idaho&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/a&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;

The future (is a bike trip)

2009-08-24T21:52:00.000-07:00

Well hey, first blog in a while. I've been working all summer at a summer camp called Camp Reed (click here). It's a YMCA camp and is an awesome place... but the internet connection is limited and I've been fairly busy... so between the two no blogs.

Anyways as you can see I'm changing the focus of the blog a bit. Basically it has no specific focus, however, common themes will no doubt be journalism, biking and traveling. So keep and eye out for those. Today the NIC Sentinel started (click here). It's a student run newspaper and I'm the managing editor for the year. It's a big job, but I'm excited. So, I'm sure that will be something I will blog about on occasion.

But, for my first substantial blog in a while I'm choosing to write about something near and dear to my heart: biking. Me and some friends from camp are going to bike from Plummer, Idaho to Harrison, Idaho. I'm not quite sure about the route we are going to take, however, I'm sure that it is going to be a great time.

We will camp out near Harrison and then bike back in the morning (I have a noon class I have to be at... hmm). Anyways, I'm really excited for the trip. We leave tomorrow morning at 10 am. So, I should be in bed, but instead I'm blogging about how excited I am. Smart.

So, I will take pictures and throw them onto the blogosphere as soon as possible. I will also show you the route that we end up taking using MapMyRide, a very, very cool website (click here).

So, that is all. I will start to blog more consistently once again.

Light Riders

2009-06-20T19:54:00.000-07:00

Today, I was having coffee with a friend of mine. We were just catching up on various things and were sitting outside of a Starbucks in Post Falls, Idaho. It was a pretty nice day and I was feeling good and (as always) young.

Then a man walked up to us. He looked maybe 45. He was about my height, tanned and bearded. His clothes were a bit worn, but nothing terrible. In one hand he held a cell phone, in the other he had a 24 oz. drink.

"Don't ever get old," he said to us. A strange statement, and an even stranger way to start a conversation. I said "Well, it's unavoidable, don't you think?"

He disagreed. He said that we shouldn't waste our money on frivolous things. That we should go to school, study and go to church. He went on and on.

His story was a convoluted, non-linear affair, but it was a heartbreaking one. This man, who's name was Tony, I believe. Had been a contractor for a number of years. He had, in fact built many of the building we were next to (we were in a little strip mall joint).

Then he got laid off, at the same time that he got laid off his wife left him for another man.

He related all of this via a series of disconnected ramblings. He was giving us advice (ostensibly) but I felt more like he needed someone to talk to.

He said at one point, "Look at all these buildings, I built these. How can it be that one year later I can't afford to pay my electrical bills? And one year ago I was building these buildings? One year ago I had a job, a family and wife, and now all I have is my dogs and Starbucks?"

The anguish was terrible. I so desperately wanted to be able to help this man, but I could not. His life is his life.

He was a smart man but he had no formal education (as far as I know). He had gotten training in drafting but he said the technology had changed so much that he had no chance of getting a job in that field.

He went on, his ramblings oscillated between terribly desperate and mildly hopeful.

And then he began talking about light. He said it was amazing how the light that was hitting us, at that moment, would reflect out into space and in a million years aliens might look through a telescope and see us having that conversation. He wondered about whether or not that meant we were immortal. He talked about how the light from a year ago would show him happy and employed, but the light from the present would show him broke and alone.

We decided that we were all just light riders. He said that would make a good song title.

He kept pacing, flipping his phone open, closing it, looking around, opening his phone again. He told us that he was waiting for his ex-wife and that she was late. He told me that someday I would understand the pain of seeing your ex-wife driving around with another man (I hope I don't).

Finally, after he decided that she was not going to show up, he left. As he left he said, "Things will get better, the economy will pick up, I'll get a job, my wife will come back to me." And he drove off.

The human spirit is amazing.

More photos from the Inland Northwest

2009-06-07T16:31:00.000-07:00

These photos were all taken within a five minute walk from my home...

...a fork of the Spokane river...

... the road leading up to my house...

...a view of the now dry river bed...

... Leo Francovich in the woods...

... a small lake near my home.

The Beautiful Inland Northwest

2009-06-05T11:19:00.000-07:00

Well, I've been home for about three weeks. While traveling I would fantasize about my beautiful home, the mountains and the lakes. Well I made it back and they are just as nice as I remember! So, for those of you who have never been to North Idaho here are some photos of my current residence. And for those of you who do live here, remember how lucky we are! Funny that I decided to post this, I just read Glenn Landberg's most recent post, he has a very similar theme. Check it out, he is an amazing photographer.

Lake Coeur d'Alene at sunset...

...swimming in the lake (photo by Cameron Hjeltness)...

... a beach.

What is next?

2009-05-28T11:37:00.001-07:00

What is next? I'm done traveling (well at least for a while) so what will happen to this blog?

Well I plan to continue posting. I've really learned to enjoy blogging and I seem to have a pretty steady base of readers.

I think I will shift the focus away from traveling (I guess I have to rename it then). Instead I will write about a few different things. I imagine that some of you know that next year I will be the managing editor of the North Idaho College student newspaper, The Sentinel (click here). It's a big job and basically my sole focus for the next 10 months. I'm sure it will provide me with plenty of blogging opportunities.

But that won't be all. I also imagine that some of you know that I love to bike. I've been continually inspired by my Uncle Pat's blog (click here, it's worth it). So, I think I will start blogging about bikes as well.

Personally, I think it's the best combination in world, bikes and journalism.

So bear with me. The next few months the posting might be a bit irregular (I will be working at a summer camp and will only have access to computers once a week). But I will post whenever I have the chance.

Thank you all so much for your support. This blog about traveling was incredibly successful. I never would have thought that I would have so many readers. Knowing that people are reading what I'm writing is very satisfying and keeps me motivated.

Again, thank you all.

Eli Francovich

And I'm back

2009-05-28T00:31:00.000-07:00

Well I’m back. There is nothing too dramatic to tell about my return. Although my trip did change my life it isn’t a dramatic life change. It’s more of a subtle life change. I would say I’m a different person because of my new experiences, but it isn’t anything dramatic (like I don’t have pink hair). I don’t think it’s possible to experience so many different things and not be changed, at least a bit.

But despite all of this, or perhaps because of all of this, transition back into my life in Coeur d’Alene hasn’t been too hard. For the first week or so it didn’t really feel like my life. It felt familiar, but it just didn’t fit right.

That is passing, although at times I still see things from the traveling eyes. Anyways, I will catch you up on what has happened since my return and try to explain some of the things that I’ve noticed and felt.

I landed in the USA on May 18th. I took the flight to Minneapolis (after the airport debacle).

Minneapolis was quite a shock to me. Because I had just come from a foreign country (Holland) I had to go through customs. So, I got off the plane and came out into a type of holding area. It was separated from the rest of the airport and was highly secure. There were dozens of armed guards patrolling the whole area.

The customs officer who asked me questions managed to be both highly suspicious and completely uninterested. He was a big strong guy with angry looking eyes. He asked me a series of fairly innocent questions, however the tone in which he asked them made me feel like I was trying to sneak cocaine or weapons into the country.

He asked me how long I had been in Amsterdam. I corrected him saying that I had actually been in Holland, not Amsterdam. I don’t think he appreciated that.

Anyways he cleared me for entry and as I was leaving said in a machine like voice “Welcome to the USA”.

I sure didn’t feel welcomed.

After making it through that ordeal I had to go through a security check. Although I always found foreign security checks pretty comprehensive, the one in the USA definitely took the cake. They made me take of my shoes (I had forgotten about that). They made me partially unpack my bags (so the X-ray machine could get a better view). It was a new level of security. It was American style security.

And then I was through. There I was back in my home country. It felt great. Even though it was a bland corporate looking airport lobby, it was still the USA.

I immediately headed toward my next gate (I really didn’t want to miss this plane). While I was walking there I began to notice something kind of startling. I began to notice how many obese people there were.

Yes, there are plenty of fat people in Holland. But not the kind of fat I began to see walking through Minneapolis. Americans are a different kind of fat.

It was really startling. I didn’t think that it would be such a difference between Holland and the USA, but it was.

I got to my gate, sat down and began to soak it all in. I could understand everything being said around me. For a minute or two it was awesome. I eavesdropped on people’s conversations (something I hadn’t been able to do in Holland). I listened to T.V.

And then I was overwhelmed. People’s conversations were mostly uninteresting (that is the price you pay for eavesdropping) and the TV was down right annoying. It was FOX News (not my favorite new source by any means) and they were pretending to report on the Swine Flu. I wouldn’t call it reporting. No, they were actively trying to make people scared. At one point the talking head said, “It seems like people are beginning to forget about the swine flu. But they shouldn’t! It is one of the most deadly flu’s of all time.”

I felt like puking. It’s not that the Dutch media is any better. I just couldn’t understand them. So I turned on my I-Pod and drowned out the chaos.

Well, I got on the plane without a problem and took off for Seattle, Washington. I was squeezed between a very obese woman, and her very small baby, and a fairly large man. The woman was very nice and we talked a bit. The man didn’t say a word the whole flight.

And then I was in Seattle. I met my brother Leo Francovich (see picture) there. It was so wonderful to see him. We then went to Seattle University and spent the night with two friends of mine from high school.

The next day Leo and I jumped on a Greyhound bus and headed home. The bus ride was great. Leo and I talked nearly the whole time. It was interesting seeing the type of people on the bus. In Holland and India everyone uses public transportation. Businessmen use it, students use it and poor people use it.

It’s different in America. Almost everyone on the bus looked like they were poor. Judging by the their conversations (that I eavesdropped on) they were uneducated and fairly ignorant of things happening outside of their direct sphere of experience.

One woman described very loudly what a loser her ex-husband is. She also decided to tell us that he would probably show up to the bus station drunk (and she was going to get a ride home with him, in his car, great choice).

And then I was back in Spokane. My father Chris Francovich (see picture) met Leo and I there.

We went to dinner at a place called Noodle Express (not the classiest restaurant, but very good). There were two more shocks awaiting me there. The serving of food was huge! Things are smaller in Holland. I had gotten used to it I guess and didn’t even notice, but seeing that huge plate of Noodles brought it all back. I guess now I know why there are so many fat people in the USA.

And then there was the alcohol issue. The waitress asked us if we wanted anything to drink. My dad ordered a beer, and I remembered I wasn’t 21. That means I can’t drink alcohol. That was very strange (the drinking age in Holland is 16).

Then we drove home. I saw my mom later that night and I slowly began to weave myself back into my life.

It’s great to be home. I miss traveling, but while I was traveling I missed home. So it’s a trade off I can handle. This area of the USA is so beautiful. I absolutely love being here.

It’s good to be home.

Family

2009-05-26T11:25:00.000-07:00

Chris Francovich.

On the bus.

Leo Francovich.

Another airport related debaucle

2009-05-18T23:17:00.000-07:00

Well, today was the big day. My world traveling was coming to an end. I was headed home. Ready to see my brother, my family and my American friends. I was excited, but sad. It's always hard leaving a place, especially a place as great as Holland. But still I was excited.

And then things got insane.

Let me start from the beginning.

Last night I went out with Freek, Lincy, Daan and Florian. We went to a place called Crazy Pianos. It was a club featuring two pianos, a drummer and a singer. It was really, really awesome. We stayed there until 3 am and didn't get home (we had to drive) until 4 am. Then we watched Friends until 5:30 am. Then Freek took Lincy and Florian to the train station and I went to bed.

Some hours later I awoke. The plan was to get up, have breakfast and then head off to the airport. My flight didn't leave until 1:10 pm, so I had plenty of time. I planned on being there at least two hours before, maybe even three. Again, I was seriously determined not to repeat the whole Poland incident.

Freek was making me breakfast (he is a great dude). On a whim I decided to check my e-ticket, just to make sure nothing crazy and impossible had happened.

La la la. I wasn't really paying attention. I was thinking about my toast, which I could smell in the kitchen.

And then I saw it.

It was a small little phrase. Innocent enough normally. But suddenly it was full of dark intent.

It read: “Flight rescheduled: departs 10:50 am.”

Fuccccccdge. Shit. Dang. Golly Gee. Holy Hell.

At that point it was 9:30 am.

That meant we had not nearly enough time to get to Schipol airport. Much less navigate the insanity of security, bag check etc.

But we tried. Freek drove admirably. Hurling his little Dutch car between much larger vehicles. Tailgating slow vehicles like non-other. Cursing in Dutch, English and sometimes Spanish. Honking his horn, flipping the bird.

It was almost enough. Or so we thought.

Freek screeched up to the front of the airport, I jumped out, grabbed my stuff and raced inside. Freek was going to park the car and come and see how I was doing.

I ran into the airport and dashed to the Northwest Airlines desk. I had three minutes until cheek in-time, I could do it.

And, of course, predictably even, there was a huge line.

And then lady luck reached out her blessed hand, and threw me a bone. Desperate, I approached the first check in person I saw. He was a guy, about my age, nice enough looking. I explained my situation , hoping beyond hope that he could speed things up for me.

And he did. But as he helped me he hit on me, constantly. At first I didn't notice it, he just seemed like a nice guy, and I was in a huge hurry. But then I began to realize that he was looking for a lot of eye-contact. Then he asked me if I had ever been to a certain club. I said no, but that I thought I had heard of it. Then he laughed and told me it was a gay club. I told him that I wasn't really into that kind of stuff.

I don't think he heard.

Meanwhile we were cutting through the line like a hot knife through butter. It was one of the best feelings in the world. Flying by all these folks (the second best thing to actually flying). We went up to one of his colleges (a pretty woman, a bit older than me). Together they began to check the computer system to see if I had a chance of getting on the flight.

Meanwhile, he was laying it on hot and heavy. He told me that if I missed the flight I would “have to spend the night with him”. He talked a lot about how nice and polite I was.

I was in a strange situation. I'm not gay, and even if I were, I wouldn't go for a guy like that. But I really, really wanted to get on that flight. So I didn't actively flirt. But I didn't not flirt. I just kind of let him go.

And then the pretty lady said “Oh, your plane left at 10:10”.

Wow. So, let me see, the original flight was supposed to leave at 1:10 pm. It got rescheduled to 10:50 am and then it left at 10:10 am. Wow. That makes a lot of sense to me.

So I missed my plane. The gay guy and the pretty lady directed me to a ticket booth to see if I could get the next flight to America. As I left the gay guys said,

“You go check over there, and then you come right on back to me”. I guess I'm a gold digger of a sort because once I got wanted from him I was out of there. Now way was I going back to him (but to be fair he was a nice guy, and he did help me a lot, he was just a bit aggressive with the come-ons).

Well at this point Freek joined me and we waited in line. Again lady luck smiled upon me. There were five people dealing with reservations, four of them looked like they just swallowed a lemon. The last lady looked much nicer and I got her.

I won't lie. I was as polite as I could be. In America you call it sucking up. In Holland you call it being a slimeball(spelling is wrong). Well I was all of those. I wanted to get a flight and I didn't want to pay for it.

And I didn't have to. It turns out they changed the flight a month ago and somehow forgot to email me about the change. So the fault lay with them, therefore I was able to jump on the next flight to Seattle. Unfortunately it is not a direct flight, so I arrived much later, and I had a two hour layover in Minneapolis.

However, it all worked out and I made it safely to Seattle. As I write I'm sitting in the basement of Hannah Reid's dorm. It is a nice place and I must say I'm glad that everything worked out. Son I will write about my transition from Holland to America, but not now.

Adios.

The look

2009-05-17T06:12:00.001-07:00

So, recently I was trying to navigate a Dutch train station. I had all my stuff clinging to my back and I looked (I imagine) like a very confused and lost American. The only true part about that is that I'm American, I knew exactly where I wanted to go and I was determined to get there. I don't mean to brag but I've gotten pretty good at navigating train stations. I was confident, to say the least.

Well, some poor guy misread the situation completely. He saw me and though “Hmm, young, obviously foreign, possibly a hippie backpacker. I bet I can convince him to buy some shit from me.”

So, he approached me.

I was distracted. I looked up and saw this guy looking at me. I didn't get a good feeling from him, he seemed like a shady type of character. He began to follow me while jabbering at me in Dutch.

I said, “Umm, dude I don't speak Dutch.”

At this point I imagine his brain was thinking something like “Oh yeah baby, jack pot, this kid is a foreigner, he is young, he is going to buy whatever I offer him. He is going to be practically eating out of my hand when I'm done with him.”

So, he began trying to sell me something. I couldn't really understand what he wanted to sell me, but judging by the way he lowered his voice and looked kind of sneaky I imagined it was something slightly less than legal.

I looked at him, shook my head, and walked off.

And he followed, at a polite distance. I think he was re-working his plan of attack, maybe he decided I was more respectable than I looked. So he came up to me again and asked if I wanted a taxi to a hotel. I said, “No, thank you though.”

And then, I gave him the 'look'. It took me a while to perfect 'the look' but I had plenty of practice in India. I don't always get it, but most times I do. The 'look' when done properly, can stop the most determined salesman (or woman) dead in their tracks. The look tells them a couple of things. First it tells them that you aren't kidding. That you aren't a confused tourist looking for something to buy. Then it tells them that you know exactly what you want and where you want to go. And finally, it shows them a glimpse of your soul. They see some one not to be trifled with. They see some one who is dangerous. Often, after seeing the 'look' they imagine that you are ex-military, or that you work for the CIA, or that you are an assassin. They don't sleep well that night, or the night after, because they keep seeing the 'look'. When they close their eyes at night they see it. When they sleep they dream about it. When they eat their cheerios in the morning each little bit of cereal is your eye, glaring up at them from out of their bowl.

Needless to say, he left.

Scenes from the Mediterranean

2009-05-17T06:06:00.000-07:00

The cove where we swam...

...and again...

...the view from the top...

... and Emily and I.

Moving on

2009-05-08T02:14:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm traveling again. Although I guess I never really stopped traveling, spending so much time in one place (Holland) began to feel more like home than adventure.

I'm writing from a bus. It's 7:55 am and we are currently driving through Hamburg, Germany. Like the majority of the world I've only read about Hamburg in history books, so I feel a thrill of excitement driving through it in real life.

Yesterday was my last day in Sittard (where Freek studies). Freek and I hung out and then a big group of his friends (and mine now too) came to his apartment and we all ate dinner. They bought me a few farewell gifts and then walked me to the station. It was pretty amazing being escorted out of Sittard by 10 or so people. I'm very lucky to have met them and I hope/plan to see them again.

We got to the station with plenty of time to spare (so we thought). I needed to be in Utrecht by 11:55 to get my bus and it's a 1:44 train ride to Utrecht. I was fully committed to not repeating the Poland fiasco.

Well, we said our goodbyes, doing the usual rounds of hugs etc. And then we noticed my train (which we thought wouldn't leave for two more minutes) was closing up it's doors and preparing to leave. So, my last half a minute in Holland was spent sprinting toward the one open door, yelling desperately for the conductors to have mercy and wait.

I made it and settled in for the ride. Then, I realized that the ticket Freek and bought me was a 'korting' (discount) ticket, meaning that I either had to be a student in Holland or I had to be traveling with a student. I was neither traveling with a student nor was I a student. It is possible to pretend to be traveling with a student, however, the last time I tried this I ended up getting kicked off the train, so I decided honesty was the best course of action. I found the train conductor and explained the situation. She was sympathetic and said it would not be a problem. And so I was on my way.

I arrived in Utrecht without further incident. I had an hour and five minutes until my bus was scheduled to depart. I spent almost all that time walking around trying to find where the bus was supposed to depart from. I asked four or five different people and got four or five different answers. Finally, in a rare act of brilliance, I decided to read the bus stop signs. It turned out I had walked by the EuroBus stop four or five times. A common mistake, I'm told.

Almost immediately upon arriving at the stop I struck up a conversation with a man from Somalia. He was a bit intoxicated, but very open and kind seeming. Soon we were joined by a man from Afghanistan Both men were no longer in their countries of birth.

It was pretty amazing to have a real conversation with these two men. I'm a bit embarrassed to say this but the man from Somalia was the first black person with whom I've had any real substantial conversation. They were taking the same bus as me and we ended up riding together.

Me and the man from Afghanistan talked quite a lot. He was very open and extending. At first I wasn't sure how it would be considering the whole fact that my country is occupying his country and his countrymen are killing and being killed by my countrymen. But it turned out to be no problem. As he said, “Every man has a mother”.

Still, it's hard to reconcile the fact that guys from America, my beloved country, are fighting men from Afghanistan, his beloved country. And there were sat on a bus going through Germany talking and sharing food.

Anyways, the ride was pretty amazing. It turned out there was another man from Somalia on the bus, we all shared our food and talked. At one gas station the man from Somalia bought us all drinks. He explained that the custom in Somalia is that the first one to get to the counter pays for everyone else.

I slept a few hours, however, it wasn't the best sleep I've ever had. The bus seats aren't all that comfortable and it was crowded. My friends got off in Hamburg, so for the next hour or so I'm on my own. I will be in Kiel, Germany for four days. Tonight I am staying with friends of the German couple that I met in India. I don't really know where I'm going, I have their address and their names but nothing else. So I guess there is another adventure coming up.

Anyways, I will post this as soon as I can, and I will try to keep everything up to date.

Heina!

A video of the concert at Queen's Day

2009-05-03T07:50:00.000-07:00

So, here is a video of the concert, this is only a small fraction of the people that were actually there.

Photos from Queen's Day

2009-05-03T07:40:00.001-07:00

So, here are photos from Queen's day...

... a crowd (notice all the orange)...

... a boat party...

... the Borlee's (left) Agnes, Leon, Freek...

... friends of Freek (Left) Riaana, Freek, Yaara...

.. a large partier.

Photos

2009-05-03T07:27:00.000-07:00

So, here are some photos from the Batatieren run and after party...

... 1 am, right before we went to the race (left) Roos, me and Stijn...

... and here it is 9 am right after the race (left) Freek, Lincy and someone else...

... and here we are at 9 pm after missing our flight to Poland...

... and here is the tent city...

... and here is all the garbage the morning after the party.

My explination for why there are no photos

2009-04-30T14:43:00.000-07:00

There are no photos because I left the chord that gets pictures from the camera to the computer in Sittard. So, as soon as I get that chord back this blog will be flooded with pictures documenting my recent adventures in a unique and visually stimulating way. Yes, you should be excited.

Queen's Day

2009-04-30T13:49:00.001-07:00

Hey, so today was Queen's day. It's an annual celebration in Holland that is centered around (yes, you guessed it) the Queen. The Queen in Holland is a ceremonial figure, however, she and her family command a lot of public attention.

Anyways, to celebrate 'it' everyone goes out and drinks and parties and sells stuff. All over the country people clean out their garages and put their old stuff up for sale. It's a national flea market.

So, we went to Amsterdam. I heard that their were 600,000 people in Amsterdam (plus the people who actually live there). For Freek, me and his parents the day went smoothly, however, others weren't so lucky.

In the city of Apeldoorn there was an attempted attack on the royal family. A unnamed man broke through police barriers and attempted to drive his car into the royal families open air bus. He didn't hit the bus, however, he did hit pedestrians killing five (several more are in critical condition). In response to the attack the festivities were cancelled in every city in Holland, except Amsterdam. The reason that it wasn't cancelled in Amsterdam (as explained to me) was that there were too many people. The mayor said that if he cancelled the festivities the city would be flooded with aimless party goers. So the show went on.

Still, you could feel the heaviness in the air. The concerts were shorter and there were no after parties.

As one person told me "We aren't used to seeing this kind of stuff (in regards to some very graphic videos showing the attack) in Holland. This is the kind of stuff you see coming from America."

What have I been up to?

2009-04-29T08:09:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm a bit behind on the posts, but I'll try to catch you all up, right now.

So, as you can see by my last post I was planning on going to Poland. However, that didn't work out. A couple of things happened, but ultimately what happened was that we missed the flight.

On Friday April 25, Freek and I went to his internship. Freek is a climbing instructor as part of his school (he is studying sports and movement). While Freek taught people how to climb, I climbed with a guy named Stijn. We ended up climbing for six hours, which was a blast. After that, we went to Stijn's house in a city called Nijmegan (it was now about 10:30 pm). The plan was to catch a few hours of sleep and then go run in the annual Batavieren race. It's a team race that goes about 185 kilometeres. I was running 6.1 km starting at 1:30 am.

Well, it turned out we didn't go to bed. I spent the next 10 hours running and cheering and occasionally sleeping in the back of a van.

Anways, once our team (about six students from Freek's school) had finished our section the race, Freek and I got on a train, ready to go to Eindhoven. We were going to Eindhoven, as you may know, to catch a train to Polland.

Well, to make a long story short we missed the plane. The whole day was a surreal experience. We spent an hour on a bus, that seemed to be going in circles. Freek and I both kept falling asleep and then jerking awake, afraid we might have missed our stop.

So, there we were, in the Eindhoven airport, sleepless, and flightless. We decided to make the best of the situation. So, we got back on the train and headed back to the finish line of the race.

You see, the main motivation for most of the runners of the Batavieren race is the party after the race.

Well, it was quite a party. It was set up in the middle of a universitie's campus. There were fields and fields of tents. I was told that there are around 9,000 students at this party. There were five or six DJ's and four or five stages.

It was a fun party, to say the least. However, the next morning, I couldn't help but think.

The fields all over the campous were covered in garbage. Plastic cups and all sorts of things. As we were leaving people were already beginning to clean up. However, the resembalance was startling. It looked like India.

Anyways, it was weird to see. I have some photos of various things and I will post them as soon as I have a chance.

Off to Poland

2009-04-24T05:53:00.000-07:00

So, tomorrow Freek and I are boarding an airplane to Poland. We will be there untill Thursday. Before we leave Freek and I are going rock climbing (tonight). Then at 1 am I'm running 6.1 km for a large student benefit run. So, it's going to be an active week! Anyways, I will try to post, but we will see.
Ok, bye.

The American Image?

2009-04-18T17:02:00.000-07:00

While traveling I have always been aware of my status as an American. Being an American has a certain specialness to it. In one way, much of the world is hopelessly captivated by our movies, our music, the political decisions our leaders make. In another way they are vehemently against what we represent... greed, pre-emptive strikes, pollution etc.

Either way, when you tell someone you are from America, it means more than saying that you are from Canada.

I've been lucky. Everyone I have met and spent any amount of time with has been gracious, kind and accepting. They judge me based on who I am and not who/what my country is.

Still, I'm curious about what people think when they think about Americans. While in India, I asked as many people as I had the opportunity to. Surprisingly enough, at least to me, the responses were quite positive.

I found (from the few people I talked to) that India wants to be America. Although large tracts of India are still completely immured in the past, the majority of the urban centers and much of the youth are crying for change. They believe, and I think they are right, that their time is coming. As more and more skilled jobs are coming to India it makes sense that Indians are looking to change, and they want to change into us. They see America as the country to emulate. Again, this is just the impression that I got from the few people that I talked to.

However, my experience in Europe has been a bit different. Like I said, everyone has been very kind and hospitable, but the stereotypes that they have of America are not nearly as rosy as of those held by Indians.

I've heard from several different people that generally when they think of Americans they think of wasteful and overweight people. They think of the Iraq war, they marvel that we are allowed to drive and own guns at the age of 16 but can't drink until we're 21. They think about the Iraq and Afghanistan (Holland has soldiers in Afghanistan) conflicts.

They also know us through music, television and movies. Everywhere I go I here American songs playing on the radio, Hollywood movies on the T.V.

I can't really blame them for the stereotypes that they have of us. Today, I was at a shop eating a sandwhich. The TV was showing an episode from MTV Made. The people depicted on the show were ridiculous. They were stupid and self-centered, and they happened to be American. The truth is that a lot of Dutch people know most of what they know about America via television. And, at least in my opinion, most television shows don't depict the best qualities of America.

So, I guess I would say that most Dutch people have some very strong stereotypes regarding Americans as a whole. However, they seem to be good at looking beyond the stereotype and seeing the individual (me in this case) that just so happens to be an American.

Some sights

2009-04-15T03:58:00.000-07:00

A Dutch windmill...

... a canal going through a town...

... almost the same shot, but more kayak...

... the jaw bone of a whale...

... and, finally, Freek playing pool.

A hazy tradgedy

2009-04-15T03:55:00.000-07:00

I've been busy the last couple of weeks. It's been a lot of fun but not particularly noteworthy. I spent last week in a city called Delpht with some of Freek's friends. They were very nice and it was fun to see a different city.

However, this post isn't about that. Freek and I were on our way back from Northern Holland where we had spent the weekend. We had a 15 or 20 minute layover in a city called Utrecht, which is a central hub for trains.

We were sitting on the bench just hanging out when this (apparently homeless) man came up to us and began asking for money. Freek, not having any money told me that if I wanted to I could give him some. So I gave the guy one Euro. He had some postcards that he wanted to trade with me (they were free postcards that he had taken from somewhere). I placed my wallet on the bench next to me as he began to show me the postcards. However, my wallet slipped off the bench. I wasn't worried about it, I knew exactly where it was. The man, ostensibly to show me the postcards better, bent down on one knee. As he did so he scooped up my wallet.

Seeing this (just barely) I said to him “Hey man, give me my wallet back”. He said he didn't have it. I stood up (as did he) and said again “Hey, giving me my fucking wallet, I saw you take it”. Luckily for me (and not for him) he was pinned in by the glass of the waiting area. Again he denied any knowledge of the wallet. So, with some profanities, I pushed him up against the glass.

He was a big guy, maybe 6' 3''. But he was fat, and as I quickly realized, completely out of it. Maybe he was stoned, drunk or mentally sick, whatever it was, there wasn't much he could do. I had the advantage.

I asked (kind of) for my wallet back, again. He told me (again) that he didn't have it. He told me to search him. So, I turned him around and lifted up his shirt, and sure enough (much to my relief) there it was, stuck into his boxers.

I took it back and told him to get out of there. Before he left I took a few of the postcards (maybe just a little bit spiteful). Freek was in the process of calling the police and the guy made a hasty retreat.

We ended up talking to two officers and tried to give them a description. Some friendly spectators who had seen the whole encounter helped fill in the detail. At this point and for the next 10 or 20 minutes I was shaking with a mix adrenaline, fear and self-righteous anger. If I had lost my wallet I would have been royally screwed.

And then the adrenaline began to wear off. And I remembered how it felt, to grab this fully grown man, and realize that he was defenseless, truly helpless against me, a 19-year-old brat on a world wide romp.

I felt like crying. All I could see was the little kid in that man. The little kid that, no doubt grew up in a hopeless situation. Somehow, somewhere he wasn't loved. Somebody didn't hold that kid. And that kid grew up into this man. A man, who tried to steal from someone who was giving him charity. But in my wallet I had 150 Euros, plus a bank card with access to five times that. So, giving him one Euro was almost an insult

I'm not saying I didn't do the right thing (if there is such a thing as the right thing). But the disparity of the situation, the tragedy of it is mind boggling.

I have everything. I'm strong, fit, rich, and loved. I'm protected by the law from men like him. He is outside of the society, even with the advanced state of Holland's social services he is still dangerously close to the edge.

And he shouldn't steal from people. We have to be protected from people like that.

We and them. We being the ones in power.

I know that what happened, how it happened, had to happen as it did. I need my money, my ID all that jazz. It's true I do need it.

But I still can't get that image of me shoving a little kid up against a glass partition. Me in all my righteous anger manhandling someone with absolutely nothing.

A closer look at the Dutch bike

2009-04-06T03:18:00.000-07:00

So, here are some pictures of the type of bike I've been riding.

Here is the built in lock.

And a closer look.

Here you can see the entire bike.

Later Freek and I went to get groceries. They don't give bags at Dutch supermarkets so panniers are a must.

To Gel or not to Gel?

2009-04-04T11:52:00.001-07:00

When I was in ninth grade I used to gel my hair all the time. It was a morning ritual. I would wake up and take a shower. A shower was a must, because you have all the gel in your hair from the night before. After I showered I would dry my hair lightly and then apply handfuls of Gel. Soon, my hair would be helmet like, impenetrable to wind, bugs, dust, anything really.

It really was the life. Putting on a shirt and or taking one off was a bit hard, sometimes they would become stuck to my hair, causing all sorts of discomfort. But I was on top of the world.

And then the dot.com bubble burst. Suddenly I found myself unable to support my Gel habit. After i lost my job I stopped worrying about my looks. I would roll out of bed, pop open a beer and watch T.V. I didn't matter if my hair was puffy or ugly or flat or anything.

You know it's true. It happened all over America. Hundreds of thousands of men suddenly stopped Gelling their hair. They just didn't care.

Things got better, economically speaking, but my pride never really returned. I never fully recovered. I resorted to short hair cuts and hats. Never again did I Gel my hair.

Well, things changed in Holland. You see, although Holland was hit hard by the dot.com bubble burst, the winds of fate saw fit to leave them with plenty of Gel. The day the bubble burst, there just so happened to be a huge shipment of Gel going through Amsterdam. Truckloads of the stuff were lined up waiting to be shipped to America. But suddenly their customer base was gone. The Gell companies folded and Holland was left with literally tons and tons of Gel. So the government began giving the stuff away. Much like health care.

Enter Eli Francovich, five years later. Fresh from india I hadn't thought about Gel in years. Ok, maybe months. But I wasn't ready for what Holland was going to throw at me. Every man, woman and child had Gel dripping out of their hair. At first I though "Nah, I ain't gonna use that stuff, it's too good for me." However, I soon realized I had no alternative. People looked at me weird. I was told on multiple occasions that "You "have the potential to look nice, but you really gotta do something with your hair." I began to Gel my hair.

Ever since then my self-confidence has begun to return. Sure, I'm unemployed, I don't have a college degree, the economy is a mess (again) and it's still snowing in Idaho, but hey, at least I have Gel in my hair, right?

Biking around

2009-04-04T02:17:00.000-07:00

So, I got an impassionated request for a blog about bikes. The request came via my Uncle Pat. He has an amazing blog about biking in Spokane. You should really check it out here.

Anyways, this post won't do justice to the Dutch biking scene, but I will try.

Holland has an amazing public transit system. While many families own cars, most don't use them on a daily or even weekly basis. Instead they use the train, bus or they bike. You can almost anywhere in Holland via any three of these mediums.

The bike lanes here are very clearly marked, often they are seperate roads. They follow the main roads and highways (see here). There are roadsigns for bikers, telling them how far to the next city. It makes biking very easy and safe.

However, the flip side is that the rules regarding bikers and biking are much stricter. A couple of nights ago me and some friends were biking back from the pool and the cops pulled us over. One of the people we were biking with didn't have a light. She was lucky and only got fined 10 euros, however, the maximnum fine for that kind of infraction is 80 euros. So they take it pretty seriously. Having all these rules kind of dampens some of the fun of biking for me. In America biking feels a little bit less controled. I feel kind of like a lot of the rules of the road don't apply to me in the same way. Which isn't true technically, but practically it is (at least in my experience).

Anyways, all that aside it's really nice biking in Holland. Three days ago I went on my first 'long' bike adventure. It was a 25 km ride to a city called Maastricht. Although I didn't take the scenic route, it was still a beautiful bike ride. The bike path followed the main highway fairly closely, however, it was seperaed by a little strip of grass. It doesn't sound like much but it sure is nicer than hugging the shoulder while cars hurtle by inches from you. I ended up planning the trip terribly and had to take the train back in order to be home in time to help cook dinner. But now I know it can be done, so I will do it again.

Most people ride pretty heavy commuting bikes. I don't prefer to ride on them but they are nice enough. On nice days I see packs of spandexed bikers hurtling by. Although I've never had the oppurtunity to ride on a Dutch road bike, they look just as fast and efficient as their American counterparts. One interesting thing about European bikes is that the lock is built into the bike. A metal bar clamps between the back spokes and then you just lock it. Although it makes the bike heavier, it is nice not to have to carry a lock eveywhere you go (this was the same in India). I haven't done any bike work so I don't know what other differances there in terms of hardware.

Here is a picture of the bike I rode to Maastricht. I will try to post some more detailed photos of bikes as soon as I recharge my camera (my power adapter is all screwed up).

Ok, there is more coming on bikes. I have some videos I took and a few more photos. I will post those as soon as I can. Adios.

For the bike lovers

2009-04-03T02:32:00.001-07:00

Plethora

2009-03-27T05:59:00.000-07:00

So, I don't really have one topic or anything in mind for this post. I thought I would talk briefly about a few different things. But, before I start I have an idea. How about, if all of you who read this agree, you guys ask questions (if you have any) via the comment section. I will then respond to your questions to the best of my ability. That way I have topics to write about and you all will have your questions answered.

Anyways, maybe that will work, and if not I won't hold it against any of you!

So here we go.

The Shy Dutchwoman(man)

Freek (see photo) is not a shy guy. When he came to America he made friends easier than most people wake up in the morning. Although I knew mentally that all Dutch people aren't like Freek some part of me insisted that they would be. Basically, I imagined myself meeting a whole country full of exited, extroverted Dutch people, who would be more than willing to talk to me in English. Well, it hasn't quite been that way. Freek's friends are really great people. But they are a bit shy around me. Some of them are more outgoing than other, but overall I spend a lot of time listening to people talking in Dutch. I'm not complaining at all, I totally understand. But it's interesting to compare and contrast the way Freek says they act around him (extroverted, etc) and how they act around me (like they don't talk in English). Obviously many of them have loosened up with time (or alcohol), but I'm not going to lie, I spend a lot of time trying to understand Dutch. Which, brings me to my next mini-point.

The Language Barrier

The last couple of months I've spent a lot of time not understanding what people are talking about. In a way it's really nice. I'm not held to the same standards as everyone else. When people are arguing or trying to plan something, I can just stand there with a dumb grin on my face and pick my nose. It's awesome. But, at the same time I get the feeling I miss out on a lot. Oops, I'm straying from my point. SO, in both India and Holland, while listening to people jabber away in their native tongue I've always felt like I could almost understand what they are saying. It felt like if I just relaxed my mind a little of something I would understand it all. Of course I haven't been able to, but it's interesting. You can tell, just by listening, that the weird words they are saying have meaning. I imagine this is true with any language.

Sex(uality)

When I first got to Holland I kind of felt like what a conservative Christian farm boy might feel like if they suddenly landed in Las Vegas. There were so many pictures and posters of nearly naked women. I couldn't help but stare, but not in the usual way that I stare, this time I was staring just out of sheer amazement. In India they aren't allowed to show people kissing in movies. The most revealing film shot is the the famous wet Sari shot (any Indian movie worth it's salt (I bet that saying comes from a time when salt was expensive) has a wet sari scene). I've gotten used to it pretty quickly, I mean I was born in the heartland of sexuality as advertisement (aka the USA) it's in my blood, when I see a women in a bikini I immediately think about either shampoo, vodka or the retail value of the bikini. I can't help it.

All this aside I have a confession. The naked advertisement women are definitely hot, but like some famous person said, “It's just tits and ass”. I find it a lot more exciting and intriguing to see a beautiful woman that is wearing slightly revealing (yet beautiful) clothing. It's so more interesting, I think.

The Legal Beer

Another thing that has surprised me about Holland is how legal alcohol is. I mean, me, Eli Francovich, the 19-year-old kid, can walk into a Dutch pub, throw some Euros down, and drink a beer. Wow. It's awesome. I no longer have to sit in my room, drinking beer from a lemonade bottle. A couple nights ago I went out to a pub with Freek and a bunch of his friends. There was music, dancing, beer and conversation. And it was all legal. In Couer d' Alene the only place I can dance is in my room, the only place I can have a conversation (after 9 pm) is a coffee shop and the only place I can have a legal beer is... no where.

I know alcohol is evil (until you turn 21, then it's not evil anymore) but I can't help but think that maybe things would be better if people were allowed to drink a little bit earlier. At the Pub I went to some people had quite a bit of alcohol, but no one was out of control (as far as I know). In the books that I read that talk about underage drinking parties in America there is a lot of out of control behavior. People throw up in plants, on coaches and on each other. It's disgusting. It's one of the biggest problems facing America's youth, vomit. Every year millions of dollars are spent cleaning out clothes, buying new plants and having coaches cleaned. If we could save all that money we would be able to balance the national deficit in at least 100 years. Oops, I'm deviating from my purpose. Where was I? Oh yes. So, perhaps, if the USA was to lower the drinking age maybe people would learn how to drink responsibly. Maybe not. Maybe we would just have a lot of bing drinking high schoolers (which we don't have now). But if nothing else, I would be able to go out on Friday night in Coeur d' Alene and do something besides wander up and down Sherman trying to get the courage to try and sneak into a bar.

If facts and evidence don't support my hypothesis, don't tell me. I don't have any serious legislative power so you might as well let me believe lowering the drinking age would accomplish something.

Money

Wow, this post has it all, sex, money, beer and language. Actually this is a post in response to a question asked by Terri Simmons on my comment page (that is how I got the idea for an interactive blog). She asked how I've been budgeting my money. So in response: I don't really have a budget plan. I worked over the summer and in the fall a bit. But more importantly I graduated from highschool and my extended family and friends were incredibly generous in my graduation/travel gifts. So I left America with about $3,000 in my account. While in India my mother paid for everything (and my father, he stayed home and worked and gave money to my mom and I). So I arrived in Holland with almost all of that $3,000. In Holland I don't have to pay for a place to stay, but Freek and I are splitting food costs. That hasn't been too expensive. We usually eat for about 4 Euro a day. Transportation in Holland is very expensive (compared to India at least). But I have the money so it's not a problem. The exchange rate isn't favorable (as of today one dollar equals one Euro and 33 cents) but like I said I have the money and my expenses aren't too bad.

The End

OK, that is it. Please let me know if there is anything you want to hear/learn about.

Some Dutch sights

2009-03-25T04:49:00.000-07:00

Hello Holland

2009-03-25T04:21:00.000-07:00

Hey, well it's been a while. I've been in Holland for a week now. I meant to write earlier but it's been busy. So I will try to convey what I've been experiencing as accurately as possible.

The flight from India to Holland was uneventful. I watched some movies, slept and talked to my neighbor. Although I barely slept I wasn't tired at all. I was really excited to get off the plane and see Holland.

I'm staying with a guy named Freek. He was a foreign exchange student at my high school in junior year and we became friends. He was going to meet me at the airport with another friend, Chelsey Bowes, with whom we had both gone to school. Chelsey was going to be in Holland for 10 days. It was her spring break trip.

There was a mix up about where we were going to meet, so I ended up sitting by the train station for two hours, while they waited for me at my gate. I read a book and began to try to assimilate this new culture.

The first thing that I noticed about being in Holland was how nicely everyone was dressed. In India I had always felt well dressed, maybe even a little over dressed. Being in the Amsterdam airport showed me the reality of the situation. I looked like a hobo. I had filthy khaki shorts on, a ratty button-up t-shirt and flip flops.

The second thing that I noticed about Holland was how cold it is. When I had left India, at 1:35 am it had been 90 degrees. The temperature in Holland when I arrived was 50 degrees, and it was a warm day. Needless to say I didn't stay in flip-flops for long.

When I finally met up with Freek and Chelsey we had a nice little reunion and then we went out to catch the bus.

The bus was clean, quiet, safe and almost empty. I couldn't believe it. The roads we were driving on were wide, well marked, well maintained and all the vehicles were following the traffic rules. I really couldn't believe it.

The next couple of days are a blur. The whole time I felt like a ghost. I didn't really know where my place was in the culture. Freek had to study for a final exam so Chelsey and I spent a lot of time exploring different cities. We were staying at Freek's parent's house, which was small by American standards, but decadent by Indian standards. Occasionally while walking around I would switch back to my India vision, I would be mesmerized by a billboard or a garbage can, or something else that equally mundane in Holland, yet spectacular in India.

Chelsey left last Saturday. I'm now living in Sittard (Freek's parents live in Alphen de Rhine). Freek has an apartment here, which is where I currently call home.

It's interesting the Dutch culture doesn't hit me over the head the way India did. It's a lot more familiar. But it is still quite a bit different.

Here are a few of the differences I've observed:

1. smaller houses
2. smaller cars
3. smaller portions of food
4. cloths are expensive (I wanted to buy some jeans but I couldn't find anything under 50 euros)
5. food is cheaper than in the U.S.
6. Transportation is easy and efficient, but a little expensive
7. people bike everywhere

I learned yesterday that Holland is the second most crowded country in the world. It makes sense then that everything is smaller, they don't have room to build and build. They have to be creative with their space.

That reminds me of another thing that is different in Holland than in India and the United States. The cities and towns are all planned looking. Everything fits together. Freek's dad is an urban planner, this means his job is to make everything fit together. He explained some of the work he does and it sounds fascinating. Because there are so many old building in Holland there are a lot of rules stipulating how they should be protected. Leon's (Freek's dad) job is to (among other things) help design cities and town that are modern and convenient, but also blend in with the older buildings. You can't help but notice it. It's everywhere you go. I haven't seen any of the disease like urban sprawl that is beginning to characterize the Rathdrum Prairie.

Although I'm really enjoying being in Holland part of me misses India still. However, it's nice to be able to have a cup of coffee or a beer. It's also nice to be able to go out and walk around and not be harassed by twenty different people.

I'll be in Holland for about a month and a half. After that I'm going to Germany and France. I still don't know how I'm going to get there, I've heard about something called EuroBus, which sounds really cheap, so I might look into that. For now that is all!

Motorcycle ride in Pondicherry

2009-03-22T07:17:00.000-07:00

Hey, so I took this video a few months ago, however, due to slow internet I wasn't able to post it. So now that I'm in Holland I'm able to post, so here it is! I'll have a new blog up soon, it's just been a little busy here in Holland. Ok adios.

Last day in India

2009-03-20T01:29:00.000-07:00

Goodbye India

2009-03-20T01:27:00.000-07:00

Right now I'm sitting in a Dutch household, drinking coffee, eating yogurt and listening to Jazz music. The last 48 hours I've spent in transit, traveling thousands of miles. At 1:35 on Tuesday morning I climbed onto an airplane in the muggy heat of Bombay (Mumbai), India. Ten hours and ten minutes later I climbed out in Holland. The transition is very strange. I feel like a ghost. Everything in Holland is so clean and spacious. The people are all so orderly in their appearance. I'm shocked by my own culture.

Goodbye India
I spent the last two days in India traveling and exploring Mumbai. On Sunday, March 15 I took a train from Gokarna to Mumbai. It was an overnight train. I had reserved a sleeper class coach, which means I would have a bed to sleep on. However, as it turned out I ended up sharing my bed with two other Indian men. They had no place to sit or sleep because there tickets were never confirmed. So, I slept a few hours crammed in between these two men and the wall.

I got off the train in Mumbai at 6 am. I had been invited to spend the day at a man named Abhay's house. I had met him on the train two days earlier, and he had offered to put me up for the day.

Just saying that I agreed to spend the day at a strangers house makes it sounds like a really bad idea. However, the man was so kind and so genuine it felt like the only logical decision.

I stumbled off the overnight train into early morning Mumbai. It was relatively quite (by Indian standards) but still busy. I had vague directions to Abhay's house. I had to take an inter-city train five stops forward. From there Abhay would meet me. I found the train that I believed was the right one. It was pulling away so I ran and jumped on board. Only later did I realize that I hadn't purchased a ticket. Luckily for me no one checked.

It took about one hour to get to where I needed to be going. I never really relaxed. I was always kind of nervous that I was going to end up in the completely wrong place. However, it all worked out. I got off the train in a place called Dombivli (East).

Abhay met me and we took a rickshaw back to his apartment. It was a small but clean and orderly. Abhay is a civil engineer and makes a good living. We immediately sat down and started having tea.

I learned that Dombivili is a completely separate city from Mumbai. In fact there are two cities near Mumbai that are slowly merging with the giant that Mumbai is becoming (there are 130,000 people per km).

Abhay works down town in a 250-year-old building. I traveled with him into town, to both see where he works, and to see a bit of Mumbai. It was really interesting to see how an India bureaucrat manages his day. Abhay and I didn't head into Mumbai until 10 am. We got there at about 11 am and immediately sat down to have some tea. After tea we went and met his co-workers. After talking with them for about an hour we decided it was about time to have some lunch. So, we ordered lunch. Actually to be more precise they ordered me a deluxe lunch. They ate their home-made lunches, but I, being the guest, got the deluxe meal. It was delicious.

So, after lunch I figured that Abhay would begin working and I would be on my own. Wrong. Instead we got a taxi (he paid) and we went down town. He spent another hour showing me around. He showed me where the usual Mubai sites.

Finally he headed back to work. It was 2 pm and we were going to meet up again at 5 pm. I spent the time walking around just soaking up the sights. There were tons of Westerners and all of the associated characters. I was offered all sorts of drugs, jewelery, sex and spiritual salvation.

We met up again and headed to the train station, ready to go back home. By my calculations Abhay spent maybe three solid hours working that day. But I'm sure that he had a tea break at some point.

Riding on city trains is a completely new experience. Long distance trains are a bit crazy when viewed from a Western perspective. They are usually late and always crowded, but you have a seat and are able to relax. Inter-city trains are a different beast all together.

I realized that it was going to be a new type of experience simply standing on the platform waiting for the train to arrive. There were, literally, thousands of people in my direct line of site. Swirling masses of humanity running and pushing. They were all there to either get on a train, or get off a train.

When our train arrived there were people hanging out of the doors. Before it had even stopped men came flying off the train. They would leap from the moving train and land, running on the crowded platform. After the train stopped the more conservative train riders jumped down. It was a tide of humanity pouring out of the carriage. As they poured out, we began to race in. It was an amazing feelings. Suddenly I couldn't stand still. There were too many people pushing me from behind. I had no choice. If I had been more rigid and less accepting of the changing circumstances I might have been hurt. As it was there was no problem. I battled my way through the crowd, pushing and clawing my way onto the train. Men were yelling, cursing and nearly fighting. I found a spot to stand and the train pulled away from the station. From the moment that their spots were assured the same men that were fighting each other seconds ago were best friends. They began talking and laughing. It was an amazing change.

And so there I was. Jammed into a mass of humanity. There was no room to move. I have pictures that I will post, but they don't do justice to the situation. In my carriage alone I bet there were 300 men (women have separate carriages so that they can fight each other). The ride took about an hour. It was uncomfortable, but I loved it. I talked to my neighbors (I had about ten) and just soaked up the closeness of it all. It's so much different than in the west. Us westerners require so much personal space.

Once we arrived back at Abhay's house we did some shopping and then headed back to have dinner. I was planning on leaving his house for the airport at 9 pm (my plane arrived at 1:35 am). We talked and they fed me a delicious dinner. I was stuffed. The pushed food on me like crack dealer push crack on little kids. It was great. It was particularly nice because the day before, to conserve money, I hadn't eaten anything but bananas and apples. So, I was primed to be stuffed full of food.

One interesting thing about eating with them was that his wife didn't eat with us. She served us the whole time. I can only imagine she ate afterward. For me it just seemed weird. I would have much preferred to have her eat with us, but I guess “when in Rome, do as the Romans do” applies here.

After dinner I was force fed dessert. I had insisted on buying them some ice cream as a present. They hadn't allowed me to buy anything else all day so I figured that the least I could do was buy them a treat. Ice cream is expensive in India and most families only have it once or twice a year.

Well I misjudged their cleverness as hosts. They allowed me to buy the ice cream, but then they served me the majority of it. Poor me! Anyways I was stuffed and it was time to go. Abhay had told me how to get to the airport. It involved taking a train for about an hour and then taking a rickshaw. I felt confident that I could do it and was ready to head out into the night solo. However, his duties as a host weren't quite done. He was very nervous about me going alone and subsequently transferred some of that nervousness to me. Normally I wouldn't have been bothered at all, however, after talking to him for a bit I was sure I would be raped, mugged and that I would miss my flight.

So, when he finally insisted on accompanying me on the train I didn't object too much. Of course he paid for the train ticket and helped me find a rickshaw driver. And then we parted.

And I was left alone for the last time in India. The rickshaw ride was long one and it was intense. The roads were terrible, pitted and filthy the traffic was insane. Their were slums on spilling over into the road. And I was in India. I don't love the poverty, or the filthiness. But I love India. I don't know why I love India. I certainly don't love the slums or the poverty, but somehow, when thinking about 'India' and not just the bad aspects I love it.

We finally arrived at the airport. I was dumb and told the driver to drop me off at, what I thought, was the front of the airport. The traffic was very heavy so I didn't want him to have to get sucked into it. Well, it turned out where I got dropped off was about 3 km from the actual airport, so I ended up walking.

I got to there finally and started the long process of checking in. At some point, while filling out one form or another, I realized I was drenched in sweat. My entire shirt was wet from the walk But, more importantly, I realized people were staring at my shirt. I was already beginning to leave India.

From there on out it was fairly uneventful. I flew out of India at 1:35 am. I was sad to go, but looking forward to the next phase of my trip. Hello Holland!

A blank state

2009-03-12T22:09:00.000-07:00

Just recently an Indian told me I look like Prince Harry. The Prince of England. I took the compliment(?) in stride, but I was a bit non-plussed. The only thing I really know about Prince Harry is that he made some racist remarks while in Iraq and had to formally apologize. I think I saw a picture of him once and I believe he has red hair. But I guess I look like him.

This kind of thing has happened before. While in a gym an Indian man told me I looked like Brad Pitt. Other than the bicep size I don't see any resemblance, but somehow this man did. Another man asked me if I was a soldier. Another asked me if I was a Hollywood star.

At first I simply accepted these comments at face value. I was a little bit proud to be asked if I was a movie star etc. But then I began to think about it. There is always the possibility that I really do look like Brad Pitt, a soldier, Prince Harry and a Hollywood star. Maybe my friends and family never commented on the striking similarities because I live with them and they simply got used to it. Maybe India just wasn't ready for my rugged good looks.

And then there is another possibility. Maybe us white folks are kind of like blank chalk slates. Indians see us and are immediately able to superimpose all of their preconceived notions about western culture onto our pale skin. Maybe the facts that my nose is about the same size as Prince Harry's and my skin is white were enough to convince that one man that I did in fact look like Prince Harry.

Images, videos and songs about western culture, particularly American culture, abound in India. Maybe they hate our culture or maybe they love it, either way it is deeply ingrained in their national physique. So, when they see a real live westerner they apply their base of knowledge to that individual. And, generally speaking, their base of knowledge about western culture is derived from television, movies and music. So, maybe that is why I haven't been told I look like Mark Twain, but instead like Brad Pitt.

It's a nice theory and I think it probably applies to most people, however, in my case I really do look like Brad Pitt, a soldier, Prince Henry and a Hollywood star (redundant, I know). So whatever.

Photos from Cuddle Beach

2009-03-12T00:42:00.001-07:00

A busy day

2009-03-12T00:39:00.000-07:00

This day was packed. It's probably the single most action packed day of my meager 19 years on this earth.

Today started for me at 12:01 am. I was still awake lying in my bed at Annanda Ashram. I was being slowly but surely eaten to death by something. My forearms were covered in bug bites and felt like they were on fire. They weren't mosquito bits so I can only assume that I was being attacked by bed bugs. I took two showers over the course of the night. I tried all sorts of ways of sleeping etc. All for naught. I finally gave up and climbed out of bed at 5 am.

I went and partook in some of the early morning ashram stuff. There was chanting and other Hindu rituals. I then had breakfast. Then I took a nap. It's amazing how much better I felt after a 20 minute nap.

My train from Khanangod left at 11 am. I arrived quite a bit early (on accident, I thought I was late) and ended up sitting in the sun for twenty minutes. Once I was finally on the train there was some confusion about where I was supposed to be sitting, however, it was fairly easy to sort out and no harm befell anyone.

That leg of the journey was pretty quick. I think I was on the train for maybe an hour and a half or even less. Once I arrived at Mangalore things began to slow down. Because I had to switch trains I had a two and a half layover. I got some coffee and water and decided to take a little nap on the floor.

What I noticed sitting on the floor was how much attention I got. I'm used to a bit of attention simply because I'm white. However, seeing a white guy sitting on the floor of a train station was a bit too much for many of the passing Indians. They gawked. It made sleeping a bit uncomfortable.

I eventually gave up on sleeping and found a bench to sit on. My bench neighbor was a young guy from Mumbai. We began talking and he explained the best way to get a train from Gokarna Road (where I am now) to Mumbai. Before talking to him I had been planning on leaving on the 16th and getting to Mumbai in time for my 1:35 am flight on the 17th. However, it turns out that it's a 12 hour train ride. There is a daily train at 6:00 pm. So, if I had gone with my original plan I would have missed my plane by a good four hours.

The train to Gokarna arrived and I jumped on board. I was shuffled from seat to seat until I finally found my promised land. Things quited down for a bit. I slept, read and listened to music.

I was still kind of disappointed that I would have to spend a whole day in Mumbai's airport. I thought about seeing the sights of Mumbai, but that sounded like a pain in the ass with all my stuff and no place to store it. So, I resigned myself to spending my last day in India inside an airport.

And then I saw this guy from the ashram. I had noticed him because he seemed really kind. He just had a kind face. We hadn't talked or anything but I just got a good vibe from him. He saw me and immediately sat down. We began talking, introducing ourselves etc. It turns out he lives in Mumbai. He asked me if I was going to Mumbai. I told him my situation and he immediately invited me to spend the day at his house. I went with my instincts and took him up on his offer.

Maybe that is stupid of me. But like I said he has a kind face. And a wife and kids. So he can't be a bad guy right? Right...

Anyways, I agreed to that. I told him I would call him before I arrived in Mumbai. I feel good about it and it would sure beat staying in the airport.

Wow. What a day. But it isn't over. Today was like watching a Lord of the Ring's movie. You just keep thinking it's going to end and it doesn't.

I got off the train. I was immediately assailed by rickshaw drivers promising me all kinds of great deals. I made my way to the front of the train station where I had heard there is a shuttle to town (town is about 10 km away). Sure enough there was a shuttle. It only cost rs 25 and it looked like a marginally operational vehicle. We waited about ten minutes for it to fill up and headed off. By the time we headed out there were 13 people plus luggage jammed into a van about the size of a Subaru station wagon. Six of the 13 were westerners. My fellow 'whities' all had dreadlocks. They were all wearing tank tops and other tough looking cloths. They all had tattoos. I'm sure they all smoke cigarettes. I felt like such a tool in my button up collar shirt, khaki shorts and flip flops.

We bounced through the night. It is so odd going to a place you have never been to before. Especially at night. I had no idea where I was going or what to expect. We finally reached the town proper. It was pitch black. OK, not pitch black there were some lights. But mostly it was black. I later learned there was a power outage, but as far as first impressions go I was not impressed.

We were thrown out of the shuttle and onto the street. I grabbed my stuff and immediately began walking in a very purposeful manner. I've found that if you look like you know what the hell you are doing people leave you alone. Needless to say I had no idea what I was doing. I finally stopped near a slightly brighter section of street and pulled out my guide book.

The town of Gokarna itself is about 6 km from the beach. There are two main beaches, Om Beach and Cuddle Beach. Lonely Planet said you could get beach side huts for less than rs 200. I was dead set on getting me one of those beach side huts. So, I grabbed my stuff, hailed a rickshaw, and hit the road again.

The rickshaw cost about rs 130 (I bargained him down from rs 150). It seemed like a lot to me. I'm used to paying less than rs 50 for rickshaws, but it's a long ride.

We drove through the night. There were few electric lights. I felt like I was in the middle of the jungle. The road was narrow and became increasingly steep. It was hair pin turns all the way. I began to wonder if perhaps my driver was going to take me into the wilderness and kill me or something.

Finally, we reached the highest point of the road. The moon was brilliant (I think it was the full moon). My driver pointed to a fairly lit area of beach. I could see huts and there was even electricity. That is Om Beach. He then pointed to a black stretch of emptiness. That was Cuddle Beach. For some inexplicable reason I said I wanted to go to Cuddle Beach. I think I had read about it or something and my preconceived notions temporarily overwhelmed the reality that was facing me.

So, we turned off the main road. The new road we were on could hardly be called a road. There was cement every twenty or thirty feet but nothing continuous. In fact the majority of the road felt as if it was made out of pot holes.

I was really kicking myself now. Thoughts like “What the hell were you thinking, do you want to die young?” kept running through my mind.

We bounced along this road (which was also narrow and had a nearly sheer drop on one side) for about 10 minutes. Finally we stopped. It was pitch black. The driver told me, that from here I would have to walk to Cuddle Beach. The only other person there was another rickshaw driver. I decided this was the moment where they attacked and robbed me. I figured that it would be best to go down fighting so I took my 'Pen' (remember it's actually a screwdriver) out of it's holster and prepared to fight.

Then the rickshaw driver showed me the path to Cuddle Beach. It was (like I've said before) pitch black. The path was narrow and steep (like every road in Gokarna). After seeing that path I decided I had a better chance of fighting two Indian rickshaw drivers. But I had no choice. I headed into the wilderness.

The path crawled between rocks and tropical plants. The moon was bright but the trees protected the path from the light of the moon. I couldn't help but think about what everyone had told me. People say India is a very safe country to travel in if you are around crowds. But, these same people say that you should never go anywhere on your own. Well, here I was, walking through the jungle, somewhere on the West coast of India, with all my valuables, hoping to find a place to stay.

Shit.

Well I made it. I came out of the jungle and onto a beautiful expanse of moonlit beach. Couples were cuddling (Ha ha get it Cuddle Beach) in the moon light. I found the nearest room for rent and claimed it for my own. It costs rs 150 and is pretty rough. It doesn't have an attached bathroom. It's one room with a filthy bed and a stinky mosquito net. It felt like heaven.

I walked along the beach a bit and found a place to eat. I had Vegetable Chowmein. It was pretty weird to eat Chinese food at 9 pm in India but it tasted good.

Then I finally went to bed. It was a little complicated working out the best way to avoid touching the mattress, which I'm sure is home to many bugs, but it worked out. I ended up not using the mosquito net and instead just turned on the fan, which did a good job of keeping me cool and keeping the mosquitoes at bay.

And I went to sleep.

And then I woke up. I'm not sure what time it was, perhaps it was the next day, but just barely. Something was biting my toe. Not a bug. Like an animal was biting my toe. Holy shit. An animal is eating my foot. I was surprisingly calm. I jumped out of bed and turned on the light. And... it was a kitten. It had slipped in my window and was cuddling (and nibbling on my toes) with me. I couldn't believe it. In my half conscious state I briefly considered throwing it out (on the basis that it might have lice, fleas or some weird cat disease that I might catch). I decided to let it stay. It slept with me the whole night. Sometimes down by my feet, other times up by my face. When I woke up in the morning it was gone. As silly as this sounds it made me miss my cat.

So, it was quite a day. In the morning I was able to see where exactly I was staying. It's beautiful. I will try to put some photos up (depends on the Internet speed). Overall I'm glad that I didn't die and that I pushed on through the various obstacles.

The absence of electricity really made me think about how much we humans depend on electricity. Without it the Cuddle Beach seemed like a pretty big, dark and scary place. With it you realize that it's actually a tourist resort full of dreadlocked hippies.

Pictures from Mohammad's B-day

2009-03-12T00:24:00.000-07:00

Mohamed's birthday

2009-03-10T00:20:00.000-07:00

On the spur of the moment I decided to take an auto rickshaw tour of some of the more famous caves in and around Kanhangod. I have the time and money to spend and the caves sounded intriguing. I got picked up from the Annanda Ashram at 8:30 am.

An interesting side note: Lately I've been sleeping like I've been shot in the head. My alarm doesn't wake me up. The guy who brings tea and coffee to your room at 6 am and pounds on your door doesn't wake me up. I managed to drag myself out of bed at 7:30 am. Just barely in time for breakfast.

Anyways, as we were driving through the town of Kanhangod I noticed a lot of green streamers. My driver told me that it was in celebration of Mohammed's birthday. Like Christmas for Christians. I didn't think much of it at the time.

However, when we were stopped by a crowd of Muslim men, I began to think about it a little more. Images of Muslims firing guns off in celebration of 9/11 flashed through my mind. India has always seemed pretty safe to me. There is a bit of tension (Ok, a lot of tension) in the north, but down south everyone seems to just get along fairly well.

So, I was nervous. I almost asked my driver to just keep going and not stop for them. But you know maybe then they would have blown us up or something.

They surrounded the vehicle and...

… began forcing juice on us. Oh no. My worst nightmare. Too sweet, artificial juice. Please spare me. Over the course of the next two hours we were accosted three times. They almost threw juice and other treats upon us. They were stopping all the traffic. The mood was ecstatic and celebratory. These men (about my age) were the same age as the young men blowing themselves up in Iraq. Here, instead of blowing up vehicles, they were showering us, a Hindu and a white man, with prassad (holy gifts) from Mohamed.

It was pretty amazing. Later I watched a parade. Hundreds of immaculately dressed Muslim men marched through the streets singing and dancing. There were a lot of spectators, however, being the only white guy there I drew a lot of attention. A lot of good attention. They waved, signaled for me to take photos of them and asked my name. It was pretty amazing.

I've heard, from many different people, that Islam is fundamentally violent. That it truly does encourage killing in Allah's name. I refuse to believe that. It doesn't seem possible to me. There are a lot of killing going on in the name of Allah. But, there is a lot of killing going on in the name of capitalism.

And, at the same time that Muslims in south India were giving me juice, Muslims in Iraq were killing American soldiers. And, at the same time that I was taking photos of laughing Muslims in South India, American soldiers were shooting Muslims in Iraq.

What a crazy, flip flopping, thought provoking world.

More photos from the bike trip

2009-03-08T23:37:00.000-07:00

Bike trip to the falls

2009-03-08T23:23:00.000-07:00

Hey, so about a week ago I went on another bike trip. I went with a guy named Aaron and a woman named Jennifer. The trip was about a four hour drive there and back. We went up into this mountain range and found some waterfalls. Although there wasn't a ton of water there was enough to swim in. So that was really nice and refreshing. The landscape was really beutiful and clean. It felt and looked like somewhere in the United States! So that is what all these photos are about.