“How about we book a flight for Phuket. And then from there to Chiang Mai and then Chiang Mai back to Manila?” suggests Dave
“Yeah but the next flight doesn’t leave for Phuket until 3 so we would have to spend almost the whole day in Bangkok.” I respond. “What if we take the train to Chiang Mai and then fly directly to Phuket and then back to Manila.”
“No. Because you can’t fly to Manila from Phuket.” Notes Dave “but we really need to stop wasting time before all the flights leave”
“Alright eff it.” I conclude “Lets just book a flight to Chiang Mai and we’ll figure it out when we get there…. Awww what the hell? You can’t book flights online if they leave less than four hours away.”
After a 30 minute telephone battle with the booking agent we pack our bags and spill onto the streets in search of a taxi, and the elusive reasonable fare. The fresh rain and morning sun make Bangkok’s China Town an entirely different place than it was the night before. Dark alleys with elderly men sleeping on tarped piles of goods are replaced with bright streets where men are busy straightening colorful rows of. Carts holding boiling, noodle-filled grey water are being wheeled away. Steel shutters roll up to reveal wall to wall glass cases of royal red felt plastered with golden jewelry.
Touching down in Thailand’s Northern Chiang Mai province several hours later we pay for not being sure of our plans by having to fend off tour guides, anxious like drooling dogs waiting for a bone.
“Okay, we could go right to the motorcycle rental and then head to the mountains first thing in the morning. Or we could rent a car…” I think aloud to myself
“Is there anything to do in the city?” Asks Dave
“I’m not sure, but we need to figure out tomorrow’s plan tonight or we won’t be able to leave the city until the shops open in the morning” I reason
With time running short and the pressure from the taxi drivers wearing us thin we decide to book a car for the morning and to figure out the details later.
We throw our bags at our guest house and rent two vintage bicycles. Just past the “too far to turn around point” my brake cable breaks. It is probably for the best since the broken headlight was becoming a tiresome distraction. These might have been smaller issues if we weren’t trying to navigate a busy street in the dusk of a foreign city. As quick as we can we get off the road, we do; bargaining in Chiang Mai’s night market provides more than enough entertainment while we wait for the traffic to die down.
The next morning we ask our driver to show us the best he can but to get us back for the 5pm train. He shakes his head when he learns we arrived from Bangkok only 12 hours before. During our 9 hours with him we visit a tiger sanctuary, ride elephants, and visit Thailand’s highest peak. In the sake of catching our train though we pass up the river rafting, night safari and dozens of temples. Dave sums up the day nicely: “Our driver thinks we’re crazy but I’m not sure what we’d do here for another night.”
“Car 5 sir” says the attendant as she passes over our tickets.
Always planning I ask “What time does the train leave?”
“6pm sir.” Her voice rises at the end of each sentence as if it is a question.
And what time does it get in to Bangkok?”
“8am sir.”
Taking up the driver’s cynicism I ask “Do you think it will actually get in at 8?”
“Mmmm. Maybe 9 sir. “
“Thanks” I laugh, both at her response and the comedy of a schedule that is always late. Why not just change the schedule and always be on time?
None the less, the train is a beautiful way to see the country. Everything stays in view just long enough for you to give it a passing thought before it disappears into the window frame. Every now and then you make eye contact with a stranger for only a moment and then never again. Teenagers lean on concrete walls with one shoulder and raise cigarettes to their mouths with another. A baby, a man, a small child, and a woman all on one scooter slowly disappear behind the train. A sun sets over a low mountain. A perfectly round bush sprouts through the gravel below the train rails. In an otherwise dark night, a small store lights up the rain pouring off a roof and over Coca-Cola and Marlboro signs. The train’s interior is no less an experience. Locals come and go. A woman sells Singh Beer. Only after pushing 3 large size bottles on us do we learn she works on commission. Though tired with morning approaching near we accept her offer to join us for one more beer… and are so impressed with her efficiency that we take her up on another.
By 5am we are confident enough that we will only be an hour late that we book our flight to Phuket. At the train station in Bangkok it takes 5 neon taxis before one agrees to charge us by the meter, and so he does as he takes us off to the airport. We spend a little over 24 hours in the beach bum town of Phuket and whirl back to Bangkok, followed by one more hop to Manila.
“Bangkok was nice” I tell a colleague over a much needed coffee having arrived at 5am the night before.
“oh yeah?”
“Yeah” I say smirking in anticipation of his reaction “and then we checked out Chiang Mai.”
“Oh god” he says, knowing what’s coming.
“Yeah and then Phuket”
“Haha!” He covers his mouth and winces to try and keep the coffee in. “you did what? Who does Thailand, tip to tail, in a long weekend?.”
“You never know when you’re going to get back.” I argue
“Well. I guess you don’t have to bother now” he laughs again.
Such a trip is ridiculous to some people. Okay most. But the pace staves off boredom (and relaxation I guess). And if I have my choice of spending five days seeing one city or the same seeing three, I will take the latter every time, even if it does mean a lot of travel.
This isn’t just a philosophy for travel though. It is part of a bigger and familiar adage - life isn’t about the destination - it’s about the journey. And it applies almost anywhere.
As life becomes digitized and things move faster we forget this philosophy, especially when we deal with people. Do you recall what the girl look like that served you your coffee? Or do you only recall that she got it wrong. Too often we, as the great philosopher Kant said, treat people like means to an end, .when we ought treat them as an end in themselves, as an important part of the interaction.
How about politics? I won’t delve too deep, but how often is a decision made with the end of winning votes in mind without regard for the consequences. (Perhaps we should do a census on this.)
Most of us work our lives away thinking about the destination of retirement, but don’t think about the days spent in a job we hate. We stress so much thinking about the wedding that we don’t appreciate why to marry in the first place. We worry about post graduation instead of concentrating on our studies, or the parties intermingled with them.
But in the end, you really never know when the train will arrive so you might as well enjoy the scenery while you can.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Monday, July 12, 2010
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Travel - Above and Below Sea Level
On route to start my dive lessons.
The Philippines is a diver’s paradise; marine life here is as diverse as it is anywhere in the world and some of WWII’s largest navy battles have left behind incredible wreck diving. Since arriving here, I suspected I would find myself diving. This was despite convincing myself long ago that, if I had one fear, it was small underwater spaces; likely brought on by summers spent swimming around and under lobster boats, or climbing amongst and diving off automobile sized boulders at Barrios Beach.
Today though, possibly turned into probably when I accepted a colleagues offer to join him In Puerto Galera – one of the best places in the country to get a diving license. As the week passes I begin questioning the wisdom of my decision; I am less worried about something substantial happening and more worried that I will have a panic attack and force myself to abort. This nervousness is not a totally foreign feeling. I felt something similar two weeks ago while planning my first trip out of Manila; a feeling that a certain amount of unknown and perhaps undesirable was possible.
The weekend is now here though; at 8:30 in the morning I am walking down the pier to my waiting Bangka (A Filipino’s take on a boat – for the most part, a large canoe that is angled on the bottom instead of rounded, but has bamboo outriggers – the effectiveness of the outriggers I have questioned since hearing the statistics on ferry deaths in the Philippines).
Decked out in scuba gear on the way to the dive site with my German instructor and two shirtless, shoeless Filipino boat hands I find this all very James Bond. (Sean Connery of course). Learning I will actually enter the water via a backwards flip I decide perhaps Navy Seal is more appropriate than Bond.
It has taken some work to get here: a 5 hour drive from Manila, a study session from 2 until 4 in the morning after watching a world cup game at a bar in town, and a morning training in the pool. There were also some costs, financial as well as the foregone weekend of pool reading. The idea though is exciting, and I suppose this is another parallel of travel: any nervousness is complimented by excitement.
Putting myself at the mercy of fate and my own capacity to remain composed, I insert my breathing regulator and fall backwards into the water. Spinning through the water loaded with weights, wet suits, air lines and a tank, my reaction is to panic, ignore my instructor’s advice, spit out my regulator and thrust myself to the surface. I do what I have practiced though and gasp into the respirator. My panic stricken lungs are filled with cold dry oxygen.
It worked.
I can breathe.
I finish my barrel roll. and then. Down.
Descending the 30 feet to the bottom another sentiment common to travel strikes me: wow….
Many things stand behind this wow – being weightless, seeing fish that previously only existed in Disney movies or National Geographic Magazines, watching a Scuttle fish (like an octopus) jet by, or having a fish as large as a dinner plate, colored bright white, yellow, and blue steal a banana out of my hand that I am feeding to a school of fifty fish.
Being in this underwater Avatar like world, I recognize that not everyone will get to experience a place like this which is totally foreign to everything they’ve experienced in life. Not unlike the feeling one would get when travelling in a region on the other side of the world from their home.
Underwater I begin reciting the steps that I vaguely recall reading the night before.
Slow my breathe
Stop flailing my arms.
Keep away from the fire coral.
Do not rise too fast or your lungs will burst.
Pop your ears to prevent a pressure buildup in your sinus.
This overwhelming necessity to use all my mental resources to complete the task is like that felt when trying to navigate through a new, busy town to find a bus that leaves in under an hour, for example like I did in Baguio a few weeks back….
Check Guidebook – but hide it so no one notices how much of a tourist you are.
Check Wallet.
Check Cell Phone.
Look over shoulder.
Ask for directions.
Avoid traffic.
Turn down offer to buy something.
Don’t drink the water.
And this is travel at the best of times; things easily become worse when someone hassles you, or when it’s getting dark and you know the last bus leaves town in a matter of minutes.
And as I think of things getting out of hand, I’m whipped up in a current. Now I have to fight this horizontal pull on top of avoiding the coral below and the lung bursting potential above. My breath accelerates. As I take in air too quickly I begin to rise so I spit out my lungs and hold my breath only to recall that holding my breath is life threatening here. Something I normally take for granted I have to give all my concentration to completing. And my damn instructor looks so calm. I try to just float like him but find myself either rising up or falling to the sea floor.
And then, as quick as it starts the current stops. I’m weightless again. Like travel, like life, like mark twain said, of all the horrible things I’ve experienced in my life, most never actually happened. I’ve stopped hyperventilating. Scuba diving like travel, is a bit of hard work and discomfort, it is a bit intimidating, it is exciting, it gets out of control, but it is rewarding, it is eye opening, and if you stay calm and be careful things will be spectacular.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Philippines 2010 - First Photos
For the first month in the Philippines all I had was a disposable camera... bad idea.
Here are some of the shots that turned out:
http://picasaweb.google.com/Luke.DeCoste/Philippines2010#
Enjoy!
Here are some of the shots that turned out:
http://picasaweb.google.com/Luke.DeCoste/Philippines2010#
Enjoy!
Thursday, May 27, 2010
To live. You have to have faith.
Only after packing my bags and picking my route do I have time to realize that I am nervous. This will be my first trip outside the developed world since I left Tunisia 3 years ago and my first trip out of the expat friendly district of Makati since I arrived here 3 weeks ago.
As I leave Makati for the next district where I will find my bus, one thing is very clear: I’m not in Kansas anymore. The taxi driver affirms this by warning me to be careful of the people there and insisting he escort me to the ticket counter of the open walled bus station. The comfort he provides leaves as soon as he does.
Though the people at the station would probably go out of their way to help me, as the only foreigner I still feel vulnerable. I suspect many people there are wondering what the hell I am doing out of Makati? Learning that my bus won’t leave for four hours at 11pm doesn’t help matters. Perversely, though I am nervous, I am also glad to be finally getting a taste of the different.
Placing my back against a wall I tell myself that things will be okay. My faith erodes somewhat when the uniformed security guard goes off duty leaving me even more alone. My situation soon improves though when three fellow foreigners approach wearing enormous backpacks and speaking that distinctively North American English. Fresh graduates from Toronto they are three days into their first trip outside the western world. We decide to stick together at the bus station and as we navigated Vigan, a UNESCO site and the “finest surviving example of a Spanish colonial town”, and San Fernando, home of the Philippines surf culture. Only when we part 30 hours after meeting do I realize how much security they provided.
As I arrive in Baguio, the scene reminds me of India: so many people move so quickly past me and towards me on the sidewalk that I opt for the street instead; the buildings are dully painted including with pictures of Ronald MacDonald; and electrical wires are strewn everywhere. In the street little boys straighten cartons of cigarettes, women pick dead leaves off fruit, and young men cook chickens all in hopes of making a sale. Nobody, including taxi drivers, security guards, or other strangers can tell me where my bus station is; most seem not to know it even exists. Only after slipping through alleys so busy that I have to turn sideways to pass between jam packed jeeps and tables of fly swirled pig’s heads do I see the odd assortment of buses that is my escape from the city.
Amidst the noise of people retching, and the smell of same mixed with bus exhaust, the ride to Sagada is no more calming; each new hair pin brings a new chaotic scene of a car passing around a turn, or someone replacing a tire on one side of the road while a scooter parks on the other. I think about the remnants of rock slides, and baldness of bus tires, and the way the mountains must eat away at the brakes. I wonder how the young driver can stay aware for 8 hours, and how tired the turns will make his arms.
And then I tell myself again that things will be okay. Right then in the middle of this mountain route I have but no choice to tell myself this. Instead of worrying I enjoy the views of rice terraces harnessing mountains with gardens; and of women holding up their wares for sale to the bus windows at every stop. These same stops where I shoe flies from my bread before buying it and having faith that I can eat it. The same stops where the only water is probably unfiltered, but you have to have the faith to drink it all the same.
This same faith sees me trusting two 13 year old boys to take me on a tour of ancient burial caves containing hundred of coffins in Sagada. This same belief that it will be okay brings me to climb with other locals to the roof of an otherwise full WWII era jeep to get some of the most amazing mountain views I’ve ever seen (and where I, appropriate to the conversation, meet a women who after 11 months living in the mountains in Besao, a town of 1000, will soon return to America to become a priest).
In fact it was this same faith that saw me leave Makati in the first place to meet many fine strangers, experience very different towns, and see jaw dropping views. Faith isn’t unique to travelling in the developing world or travel at all. It helps us get through life in general; faith that she is the one, that the kids will be okay at daycare, to buy that house, or to take that new job. It is this faith that make life interesting, if not worthwhile.
As I leave Makati for the next district where I will find my bus, one thing is very clear: I’m not in Kansas anymore. The taxi driver affirms this by warning me to be careful of the people there and insisting he escort me to the ticket counter of the open walled bus station. The comfort he provides leaves as soon as he does.
Though the people at the station would probably go out of their way to help me, as the only foreigner I still feel vulnerable. I suspect many people there are wondering what the hell I am doing out of Makati? Learning that my bus won’t leave for four hours at 11pm doesn’t help matters. Perversely, though I am nervous, I am also glad to be finally getting a taste of the different.
Placing my back against a wall I tell myself that things will be okay. My faith erodes somewhat when the uniformed security guard goes off duty leaving me even more alone. My situation soon improves though when three fellow foreigners approach wearing enormous backpacks and speaking that distinctively North American English. Fresh graduates from Toronto they are three days into their first trip outside the western world. We decide to stick together at the bus station and as we navigated Vigan, a UNESCO site and the “finest surviving example of a Spanish colonial town”, and San Fernando, home of the Philippines surf culture. Only when we part 30 hours after meeting do I realize how much security they provided.
As I arrive in Baguio, the scene reminds me of India: so many people move so quickly past me and towards me on the sidewalk that I opt for the street instead; the buildings are dully painted including with pictures of Ronald MacDonald; and electrical wires are strewn everywhere. In the street little boys straighten cartons of cigarettes, women pick dead leaves off fruit, and young men cook chickens all in hopes of making a sale. Nobody, including taxi drivers, security guards, or other strangers can tell me where my bus station is; most seem not to know it even exists. Only after slipping through alleys so busy that I have to turn sideways to pass between jam packed jeeps and tables of fly swirled pig’s heads do I see the odd assortment of buses that is my escape from the city.
Amidst the noise of people retching, and the smell of same mixed with bus exhaust, the ride to Sagada is no more calming; each new hair pin brings a new chaotic scene of a car passing around a turn, or someone replacing a tire on one side of the road while a scooter parks on the other. I think about the remnants of rock slides, and baldness of bus tires, and the way the mountains must eat away at the brakes. I wonder how the young driver can stay aware for 8 hours, and how tired the turns will make his arms.
And then I tell myself again that things will be okay. Right then in the middle of this mountain route I have but no choice to tell myself this. Instead of worrying I enjoy the views of rice terraces harnessing mountains with gardens; and of women holding up their wares for sale to the bus windows at every stop. These same stops where I shoe flies from my bread before buying it and having faith that I can eat it. The same stops where the only water is probably unfiltered, but you have to have the faith to drink it all the same.
This same faith sees me trusting two 13 year old boys to take me on a tour of ancient burial caves containing hundred of coffins in Sagada. This same belief that it will be okay brings me to climb with other locals to the roof of an otherwise full WWII era jeep to get some of the most amazing mountain views I’ve ever seen (and where I, appropriate to the conversation, meet a women who after 11 months living in the mountains in Besao, a town of 1000, will soon return to America to become a priest).
In fact it was this same faith that saw me leave Makati in the first place to meet many fine strangers, experience very different towns, and see jaw dropping views. Faith isn’t unique to travelling in the developing world or travel at all. It helps us get through life in general; faith that she is the one, that the kids will be okay at daycare, to buy that house, or to take that new job. It is this faith that make life interesting, if not worthwhile.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Philippine Election 2010 - Now that's what I call an election!
Philippine Election Poster taken from www.2010PhilippineElection.com (without permission)One can only imagine the challenges of conducting a national election in a country with these statistics. Well, yesterday they attempted to do just that: 50 million registered voters voted for any of 87000 candidates running in 17000 positions.
This task would be challenging under the best of conditions. Unfortunately, the people here have rarely if ever had the best of election conditions. “The government is perceived as among the worlds most corrupt, according to Transparency International, an NGO addressing corruption, and other watchdogs.” (Lonely Planet). Supporting this claim is a history that includes the world’s first bloodless coup in 1986 when the People Power revolution overthrew Ferdinand Marcos (whose wife, at 80, is now running for a seat in congress). The people repeated this exercise again in 2001 when they deposed President Joseph Estrada (an ex film star who is again running for President). Further, 30 people have been killed in election related violence in the run up to this election.
So you have a really complicated, really fragile political system – let’s not try anything extraordinary like, for example, overhauling the entire election system…Right? Wrong. This is in effect what they have decided to do. In one election, they moved from manual ballots where you wrote the name of the candidate you support on a piece of paper, to a fully automated electronic system. Computers work fine nowadays right? This should be fine? I mean, after all we are located in Southeast Asia, not far from China, Japan, Taiwan, and Singapore where the majority of all computers are made. Sorry again. A last minute test showed the machines did not count the votes properly. This saw a frantic last minute push to update memory cards in the 70,000 voting machines (again spread across the archipelago). This resulted in calls by the “Concerned Citizen’s Movement” (CCM) led by former President Estrada to suspend automation and shift to a manual counting. The current President’s spokesperson supported this for a brief moment but later recanted.
Not all is rotten though: reportedly the memory cards have been replaced; 364 foreign observers have been accredited to monitor the elections as well as 159 foreign journalists; and 3664 teachers have been mobilized for a manual vote audit. Further, a liquor ban has been put on to prevent candidates from plying voters with drinks. For now, it is too early to tell how things will fall out. As I mentioned before though, few are concerned with who gets elected as long as someone clearly does.
Best for now,
Luke
Friday, May 7, 2010
Safety. Sleep. SD Card.
First - the Canadian thing to do: talk about the weather. On Tuesday, I scraped the snow off Jaime's car, it had been snowing for two days, and it was -2. When I arrived in Manila it was approximately 35 degrees celsius.
Safety
The trip itself, was like any good trip - uneventful. That doesn't mean it was spectacular - Not moving out of my seat for 13 hours was a challenge, and the food was bad even for airline food. That and I didn't understand too many of the announcements. Even when they were in "English" I didn't know whether to put on my seatbelt or get ready to put on a parachute. The plane ride did serve to remind me that I had to put on my travel mind, or what some have called your "Asia Head". i.e. being cautious, watching your passport, remembering not to drink water, being careful who you talk to and who you tell what etc. - just being safe.
I was pleasantly suprised upon arrival in the capital of the Philippines - Manila - to learn that I didn't have to bargain for my taxi. Yes it is fun, but you always, always get swindled on the first taxi ride that you bargain for in a new country.
I made it to my hotel without incident. Two observations of many on the way: First, at least the capital appears to be quite clean, and well developed and second, for Monday's election here, the people are not too worried about who wins, but as long as someone clearly does, and that it goes off without a glitch. The hotel's bellhop was astonished when I told him that in Canada we usually know the results of an election the same day as the election.
Sleep
I was again pleasantly surprised upon arrival at my room. It was clean, quite, and secure. I then did something very uncharacteristic for my arrival in a new city- I slept for 8.5 out of the next 10 hours from noon until 10.
SD
This morning I'm eating a full "American" breakfast for 195 pesos or about $4.44 Canadian while waiting for my new employer to take me to my apartment. Before leaving I look in the safe in my room. I find an SD Card. Should I open it? Thoughts of Will Smith finding secret gov't documents go through my mind, yet I decide to look at it anyway. In addition to the random photos of a children's musical concert, and a crazy frog, I find a picture from my hotel window. I know this is a bit creepy, but I post it at the start of the blog anyway. My moral justification is that perhaps the owner of the SD will read my blog and know where they left the card. That and I am currently without my own Camera.
My next blog might be a few days since I won't have internet right away. I'm out for now. Stay tuned.
Luke
Safety
The trip itself, was like any good trip - uneventful. That doesn't mean it was spectacular - Not moving out of my seat for 13 hours was a challenge, and the food was bad even for airline food. That and I didn't understand too many of the announcements. Even when they were in "English" I didn't know whether to put on my seatbelt or get ready to put on a parachute. The plane ride did serve to remind me that I had to put on my travel mind, or what some have called your "Asia Head". i.e. being cautious, watching your passport, remembering not to drink water, being careful who you talk to and who you tell what etc. - just being safe.
I was pleasantly suprised upon arrival in the capital of the Philippines - Manila - to learn that I didn't have to bargain for my taxi. Yes it is fun, but you always, always get swindled on the first taxi ride that you bargain for in a new country.
I made it to my hotel without incident. Two observations of many on the way: First, at least the capital appears to be quite clean, and well developed and second, for Monday's election here, the people are not too worried about who wins, but as long as someone clearly does, and that it goes off without a glitch. The hotel's bellhop was astonished when I told him that in Canada we usually know the results of an election the same day as the election.
Sleep
I was again pleasantly surprised upon arrival at my room. It was clean, quite, and secure. I then did something very uncharacteristic for my arrival in a new city- I slept for 8.5 out of the next 10 hours from noon until 10.
SD
This morning I'm eating a full "American" breakfast for 195 pesos or about $4.44 Canadian while waiting for my new employer to take me to my apartment. Before leaving I look in the safe in my room. I find an SD Card. Should I open it? Thoughts of Will Smith finding secret gov't documents go through my mind, yet I decide to look at it anyway. In addition to the random photos of a children's musical concert, and a crazy frog, I find a picture from my hotel window. I know this is a bit creepy, but I post it at the start of the blog anyway. My moral justification is that perhaps the owner of the SD will read my blog and know where they left the card. That and I am currently without my own Camera.
My next blog might be a few days since I won't have internet right away. I'm out for now. Stay tuned.
Luke
Monday, August 24, 2009
Sunday, August 23, 2009
East Bound and Down II - Elephant Clown Car
The task of packing is underway. The secret, I hope, is to maximize every available nook and crany...
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Déménager – To Move
It can be both Humbling, and Inspiring to pack all your possessions into one automobile.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Monday, October 6, 2008
Why should Canadians vote?
Who will hear your two cents?
Arguably Canada has one of the most transparent democracies in the world. We can vote in whatever way we feel for one of a number of parties or candidates who are able to freely campaign. In addition, your vote will have as much weight in deciding the next government as the vote of any other person in your riding. It is a right unfortunately that Canadians increasingly take for granted with a voter turnout of 64.7% supporting this comment.
Excluding a few scandals throughout Canada’s history we have been an open democracy since 1867, when our population was a 10th of it's current size. Some would argue that you should vote because your fore fathers died for your right to vote. A valid statement: without their efforts, if we were lucky enough to be living at all it would likely be in an entirely different world.
To play my own devil's advocate, let’s say that this is a dated and irrelevant argument. We'll disregard then this 140 year history of democracy. You will find however, that in comparison with many if not most of the current political systems around the world Canada's is still one that will make you proud.
A few examples if I may:
Last year during the tornados in Myanmar, the government prevented humanitarian aid from arriving. At the Beijing Olympics this summer, reporters and protestors alike were said to have been beaten and possibly imprisoned. Only recently has Cuba lifted the ban on home computers.
Frankly I’m hesitant to list these countries as it may cause problems when I visit them. None the less, in Zimbabwe last spring, the leader of the opposition party, the MDC, was jailed days before the election. Meanwhile citizens were given red ink on their fingers if they voted for the incumbent President Robert Mugabe. Individuals who could not produce inked fingers were either punished, or lived in fear of punishment.
In his defense, somewhat more open re-elections were recently allowed and 84 year old Mugabe, who has ruled since the country gained independence from Britain in 1980, has negotiated a power sharing agreement with the MDC leader. Thigns are looking up for Zimbabweans, but only after bloodshed of it's people, and external pressure from neighboring countries like South Africa.
Again irrelevant arguments you say? This is Canada, not a communist or developing nation. However, it would be very hard to argue that even our Southern Neighbor has a more open democracy. The self proclaimed “Greatest nation on earth” and home of Bruce Springsteen re-elected George Bush in 2004. In my opinion, this alone solidifies the argument In Canada's favour.
In continuing to play the devil’s advocate against myself I’ll go one further and remove all comparisons. Disregard them if you like. Two incredibly valid reasons still exist for voting.
One:
Actively working to improve a situation grants you the right to complain about it.In fact, you’re more advocating for the cause then complaining. Following this theory, if you don’t vote, you give up your right to complain and your voice. Your ability to comment positively or negatively on anything from our military missions abroad to cuts in arts funding is justifiably quashed. Sadly however it is often those who do the least to improve the situation that complain the loudest, especially about government and the bad breaks they’ve handed them. Next time you hear someone on such a rant ask them if they plan to vote in the next election and if they have in the most recent. If the answers are no, I would claim it is not less than your democratic duty to inform them they’ve given up their right to be heard until the next time they vote.
Two: If you are reading this, you’re probably in a position to make an informed decision. That is, if you have the ability to read this blog you probably have the mental wherewithal, time, and physical resources to do some research on the candidates. You have to register your informed opinion by voting for those who don't have the ability or desire to inform themselves.
Still don’t like these arguments? Fine, disregard them all and vote to be heard. It is unlikely you’ll agree with a candidate on all issues, but vote for the candidate who will best represent your ideas on the issues you feel most important about.
Do you think the environment needs to be protected? Which candidate will provide that protection and simultaneously take care of our infrastructure and health care?
Do cuts to arts funding make you sick? Which candidate is more likely to increase funding for Canadian Artists?
Are you worried about the economy, which has the track record and plan that you’re most comfortable with.
Do you think Canada should stay in Afghanistan until the job is finished?
Are you in support of tax increases or cuts?
What are your thoughts on immigration? The arctic? Roads? Tobacco taxes? Public Health Care System? Humanitarian aid?
Or is it about the person for you? Do you want a smooth talker? a statesman? someone who keeps their word? Do you want it all? Can you have it all?
Decide what matters most to you, do the research and go vote, persecution free.
________________________________________________
Stay tuned for updates on voter logistics.
________________________________________________
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dictatorship
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/7381646.stm
http://www.elections.ca/content.asp?section=pas&document=turnout&lang=e&textonly=false
________________________________________________
Monday, September 22, 2008
YAAAYYY!! Advance voting!
Advanced Voting Information
Out of the province or unable to vote on election day October 14, 2008?
Here's how you can have your say and beat the lineup
First go to this website and type in your postal code;
http://www.elections.ca/scripts/pss/FindED.aspx?L=e
Don't know your postal code?
Find it here;
http://www.canadapost.ca/tools/pcl/bin/advanced-e.asp
After entering your postal code click the "where can i vote in advance link;
No special registration is required to advance vote. Just bring your id showing your current address, or your id and a bill to your current address.
I'll add more information such as how to find your candidates before you actually have to advance vote.
Thanks,
Luke
Out of the province or unable to vote on election day October 14, 2008?
Here's how you can have your say and beat the lineup
First go to this website and type in your postal code;
http://www.elections.ca/scripts/pss/FindED.aspx?L=e
Don't know your postal code?
Find it here;
http://www.canadapost.ca/tools/pcl/bin/advanced-e.asp
After entering your postal code click the "where can i vote in advance link;
No special registration is required to advance vote. Just bring your id showing your current address, or your id and a bill to your current address.
I'll add more information such as how to find your candidates before you actually have to advance vote.
Thanks,
Luke
Thursday, May 22, 2008
So close yet so far.
After over 2 days on the road the house of high school friend, Felix Hirbour, was a welcome reprieve. It offered the first non peanut butter and jelly sandwhich meal in 2 days, as well as an opportunity to not worry about the next turn, next gas fill up, or next breakdown. Not so welcome however, was the plethora of Tequila shots Mr. Hirbour felt the need to serve.
Our ddd, (designated driver Dave) did quite well to get us into the truck only 3 hours behind schedule, and did even better to drive the next 8 hours from Drummondville, QC. Without a third driver, I’m sure we’d still be in Saskatchewan, that is if we hadn’t changed our mind altogether and turned back for Calgary before even reaching QC.
The only side effect that progress experienced as a result of our previous nights homage to Mr. Hose Cuervo, was an un-required stop for fuel. (Our fuel gauge was out of whack, so we were tracking the amount of fuel left in the tank by tracking kilometers driven since last fillup. After both falling asleep, and giving the wrong answer twice to the DD, the Co-pilot reading the spreadsheet finally admitted he was too drunk to know how many kilometers they had driven.) As a result the DDD decided it was best to fill up the tank then to end up at a standstill in QC in addition to ON.
That was the fault of one of the co pilots, the second managed to save face until after two fill ups, one provincial border crossing, and a coffee stop, he woke up and said did we leave Felix’s yet?
Sobered up, and approximately 600km from Drummondville, it was calculated that if we filled both of our fuel tanks, this should be our last fill up until we reach our final destination. So we roll on and into Petro Canada. Both Tanks are fueled, and to the devastation of the peanut butter and jam per hour count, we pick up a bag full of A & W bacon and eggers.
So here goes nothing, let’s start this beast for the last leg…. Okay, no really start her up.
Funny Dave, let’s go.
No, that would just be a little too ironic, 300 km from our destination and she won’t start.
Right, so the saga drags on……. For some reason, I was much less discouraged than I should have been. Possibly it was just denial. I really didn’t think that this close to our destination anything was going to stop us for any considerable amount of time.
So out we go, push the truck to the side, and for 6 of the longest hours of my life we alternate between trying to start the truck, coordinating a drive, and waiting for the drive.
From our previous breakdown, one thing we learned was that there is no need to stay in the truck when times are bad, and without discussing it, we all took our waiting spots 50 feet
apart at separate locations around the parking lot. Again we found moods were growing sour. Nobody had dropped the f bomb but communication was growing ever blunter with the minute.
Finally, Dave reverts to last week’s advice and takes the situation into his own hands.
“Do you have that Frisbee Tyler and Marcia gave you for your birthday? “
“Ha, you know what I do.. “
So. Dave and I decided that our hands were tired and we were going to make the best of it.
It’s remarkable what a Frisbee can do. We hadn’t tossed it back and forth two times before we were both laughing and fairly care free about the predicament. It’s hard to say whether or not, without Frisbee, we would have reverted back to our pass the f#$king wrench selves or not, and you know what I don’t really feel the need to guess.
All I do know is that we did make the best of things. And 6.5 hours after pulling into the petro Canada, for the second time in three days, we left in the cab of a truck towing our own.
I’m sure this is not how any of us imagined the last leg. Personally I foresaw it ending via a fiery crash over a guard rail, or at least with a Ben Johnsonian arms raised top speed arrival, but alas, as we stair at the grill of our truck through the rear window, looks like this will be one son of a b#$%h anti-climactic finish.
But you know what, in light of all that’s happened. I think I may prefer it.
Until next time,
Luke
Our ddd, (designated driver Dave) did quite well to get us into the truck only 3 hours behind schedule, and did even better to drive the next 8 hours from Drummondville, QC. Without a third driver, I’m sure we’d still be in Saskatchewan, that is if we hadn’t changed our mind altogether and turned back for Calgary before even reaching QC.
The only side effect that progress experienced as a result of our previous nights homage to Mr. Hose Cuervo, was an un-required stop for fuel. (Our fuel gauge was out of whack, so we were tracking the amount of fuel left in the tank by tracking kilometers driven since last fillup. After both falling asleep, and giving the wrong answer twice to the DD, the Co-pilot reading the spreadsheet finally admitted he was too drunk to know how many kilometers they had driven.) As a result the DDD decided it was best to fill up the tank then to end up at a standstill in QC in addition to ON.
That was the fault of one of the co pilots, the second managed to save face until after two fill ups, one provincial border crossing, and a coffee stop, he woke up and said did we leave Felix’s yet?
Sobered up, and approximately 600km from Drummondville, it was calculated that if we filled both of our fuel tanks, this should be our last fill up until we reach our final destination. So we roll on and into Petro Canada. Both Tanks are fueled, and to the devastation of the peanut butter and jam per hour count, we pick up a bag full of A & W bacon and eggers.
So here goes nothing, let’s start this beast for the last leg…. Okay, no really start her up.
Funny Dave, let’s go.
No, that would just be a little too ironic, 300 km from our destination and she won’t start.
Right, so the saga drags on……. For some reason, I was much less discouraged than I should have been. Possibly it was just denial. I really didn’t think that this close to our destination anything was going to stop us for any considerable amount of time.
So out we go, push the truck to the side, and for 6 of the longest hours of my life we alternate between trying to start the truck, coordinating a drive, and waiting for the drive.
From our previous breakdown, one thing we learned was that there is no need to stay in the truck when times are bad, and without discussing it, we all took our waiting spots 50 feet
apart at separate locations around the parking lot. Again we found moods were growing sour. Nobody had dropped the f bomb but communication was growing ever blunter with the minute.
Finally, Dave reverts to last week’s advice and takes the situation into his own hands.
“Do you have that Frisbee Tyler and Marcia gave you for your birthday? “
“Ha, you know what I do.. “
So. Dave and I decided that our hands were tired and we were going to make the best of it.
It’s remarkable what a Frisbee can do. We hadn’t tossed it back and forth two times before we were both laughing and fairly care free about the predicament. It’s hard to say whether or not, without Frisbee, we would have reverted back to our pass the f#$king wrench selves or not, and you know what I don’t really feel the need to guess.
All I do know is that we did make the best of things. And 6.5 hours after pulling into the petro Canada, for the second time in three days, we left in the cab of a truck towing our own.
I’m sure this is not how any of us imagined the last leg. Personally I foresaw it ending via a fiery crash over a guard rail, or at least with a Ben Johnsonian arms raised top speed arrival, but alas, as we stair at the grill of our truck through the rear window, looks like this will be one son of a b#$%h anti-climactic finish.
But you know what, in light of all that’s happened. I think I may prefer it.
Until next time,
Luke
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Lighten up during lightning.
Pending gloom
_________
Driving from Calgary to Marten River, a small village 60km North of North Bay, was by all accounts, much more efficient and much less eventful than driving, or being towed if you will, from Marten River to North Bay.
However our method of propulsion unfortunately wasn't the only thing that changed.
Upon leaving Calgary, one of the first pieces I received from a man much wiser than I was, "try and get along".
Well, it was advice well needed, but unfortunately not well heeded.
As three travelers frantically determined how to start moving east again, the god of mood was breaking egg shells and throwing them under our feet.
No showers, no sleep, no nutritional diversity (you can only dress up peanut butter and jam so much). Combine this with a mechanical break down devastating displacement goals and assaulting wallets and my recommendation to any betting man would be to put his last dollar on an interestingly tense situation.
A measurable symptom of this pending pessimism was the dramatically increasing use of the f bomb.
“ don’t even f#$king bother”
are you “f$%king stupid.”
“get your f%^king feet down. “
“don’t f#$king touch that you idiot…. F$%k you’re stupid..”
In any unfavorable situation, one always has two options to relieve the pressure. You can change the situation, or rise above the situation.
Although I was 3000km from my bed, it was pouring rain, and I would probably be days late for work, I Still seriously contemplated getting out of the misery ridden truck cab, crossing the street and putting out my thumb for a long, wet hike back to Calgary. However, practicality and logic took over and I decided to bear the abuse. So, if the situation isn’t easily changed, how can I rise above?
Rising above is not always easy, but it IS always possible. In retrospect some steps to follow;
Weigh the light to lightening. We had had 30-40 successful and safe hours. A 5-hour delay was really quite insignificant. Had we have kept driving we very well could have found a moose crashing through our windshield making broken bones our priorities not broken u joints.
Look for the light. Innumerable negatives fought to keep any positive outlook from breaking through, However some silver lining could be found, for example the breakdown got us off the road refreshing our minds for safer driving ahead, we saved gas money by the detour, and we saved driving time by not going to Bancroft.
Light illuminates logic Upon arriving at Canadian Tire, we had a mission. Change the u-joint and get moving. Ask yourself, what will keep you more productive, a mind open to innovative ideas? Or a cloudy gloomy pair of glasses coloring every sense that crosses your eyes, ears, mouth, nose, and touch. Without question it is the former.
Opening our mind for a few minutes allowed us to rethink the situation, figure it out, and get out of there. It is not impossible that had we not opened up to innovation and external output, we could still be at the North Bay Canadian Tire.
It is critical when shit is bad to say to yourself, I’m not helping anyone by being negative and I’m going to be way more effective in changing the situation if it only has me physically handcuffed, instead of physically and mentally.
Laugh and relax In 2001 I found myself sitting curled up on the floor in St. Anne’s university dorm room dealing with the fact that I had crossed the laws clearly set out for me by teachers on this high school trip, and that there was the possibility of suspension if not expulsion being handed to me.
“You know Luke, in a few years we’ll look back and laugh”. Said fellow Accused Jason Tait.
“Ha, we’ll probably laugh in a few months” I said somewhat disbelievingly.
“I’ll laugh right now if you will” he said. He kept his word when in about 30 seconds we were busting a gut despite the load we had placed on our backs.
The situation held incredible relevance rolling around a rainy parking lot in North Bay
Employing the above principles is often easier said than done. Two examples of how I know this
1 We were far from care free campers when the shit hit the fan in ON. Mood fell as a priority and pass the wrench became pass the fucking wrench. It took all we had to keep any open mind, and as a whole I’d say we failed fairly miserably.
2. my computer just crashed halfway and I lost about 1 /4 of this blog. After taking the computer and bashing it into the desk until the keys fell out, I rose above and told Dave to pass me his f%king laptop.
I challenge you to try this. Next time the guy on the train puts his bottle filled garbage bag on your white khakis. Or your car gets hit and run in a parking lot. Yeah fate has you physically beat, but you can turn the tables a lot quicker if you’re smiling.
A mere 15 hours after our break down, we rolled into the gloriously clean and dry house of our high school friend Felix “the cat “ Hirbour.
Drinks in hand, watching Felix flip 6 delicious inch and a half thick chops on the BBQ, life couldn’t have been better. Stories were told of our last meeting 4 years ago that had us laughing so hard it would have been impossible for the untrained eye to identify us as the same gargamel Mechanics of North Bay. (that’s right, a smurf reference)
Now, if I can only rise above the challenge of Jose Quervo that my colleagues have just put in front of me It’ll be a favorable end to a not so favorable day.
Stay tuned over the next day or two as I detail our ride from QC where the above principles of light hearted living are tested again.
Luke A
________
Beating the lightening....
Sunday, May 18, 2008
The new breakfast of champions
On the road again… playing music with my friends…
For those of you not completely informed on automobile mechanics the universal joint transfer power from the drive shaft to the rear wheels. No universal, no power to your rear wheels.
A text from Josh DeCoste said “ I wouldn’t laugh at a text saying you blew a u joint (universal) at the best of times much less from Ontario”.
The You-Tube video in the last post may make that somewhat clear, however he did his in a shop, with the drive shaft off the truck wheras we, well Dustin, completed this in a rainy parking lot with the shaft still on the truck. No room, no tools, no dry anything, and certainly no smiles.
So,….. I would be remiss in not commending the work of road trip of the year team, Dustin Swinkels, CEO, Operations Manger David Hennigar, and Project Coordinator Luke DeCoste.
David Hennigar points the following as the TSN turning point of the trip.
Dustin as the tow truck pulls into Canadian Tire “ That’s a good sign, there’s a tim horton’s right across from Canadian Tire”
Tow Truck Driver “ Ha, There’s one in the Canadian Tire”
Dustin, in retrospect grinning like a traveler back on the road after delays laughs “ ha, right on. A little too perfect.”
Personally I think the turning point was somewhere following the conclusion made while rolling around under a truck on a piece of drenched cardboard that we weren’t getting this u joint out without some acetlyne torches. (Thankfully, this was later proved false)
Currently we’re back east bound and down about 130 km west of Ottawa. The revised as f$*k schedule, shows we’ll hit our destination only 4 hours late on a 60 hour trip. “Not too baed” especially considering we rolled out of North Bay 9 hours late. Tonight at 21 hundred hours local time we’ll roll into Felix Hirbour’s for BBQ, burnt Nintendo stories, and best of all, a road crew with a fully functioning 2002 duramax diesel..
All the best,
Luke A. DeCoste
For those of you not completely informed on automobile mechanics the universal joint transfer power from the drive shaft to the rear wheels. No universal, no power to your rear wheels.
A text from Josh DeCoste said “ I wouldn’t laugh at a text saying you blew a u joint (universal) at the best of times much less from Ontario”.
The You-Tube video in the last post may make that somewhat clear, however he did his in a shop, with the drive shaft off the truck wheras we, well Dustin, completed this in a rainy parking lot with the shaft still on the truck. No room, no tools, no dry anything, and certainly no smiles.
So,….. I would be remiss in not commending the work of road trip of the year team, Dustin Swinkels, CEO, Operations Manger David Hennigar, and Project Coordinator Luke DeCoste.
David Hennigar points the following as the TSN turning point of the trip.
Dustin as the tow truck pulls into Canadian Tire “ That’s a good sign, there’s a tim horton’s right across from Canadian Tire”
Tow Truck Driver “ Ha, There’s one in the Canadian Tire”
Dustin, in retrospect grinning like a traveler back on the road after delays laughs “ ha, right on. A little too perfect.”
Personally I think the turning point was somewhere following the conclusion made while rolling around under a truck on a piece of drenched cardboard that we weren’t getting this u joint out without some acetlyne torches. (Thankfully, this was later proved false)
Currently we’re back east bound and down about 130 km west of Ottawa. The revised as f$*k schedule, shows we’ll hit our destination only 4 hours late on a 60 hour trip. “Not too baed” especially considering we rolled out of North Bay 9 hours late. Tonight at 21 hundred hours local time we’ll roll into Felix Hirbour’s for BBQ, burnt Nintendo stories, and best of all, a road crew with a fully functioning 2002 duramax diesel..
All the best,
Luke A. DeCoste
Cautiously Optimistic
Calling onstar at 4am local time to led us to finding out that because we didn't pay for the service of onstar we were up shit creek, and that the cozy feeling displayed in the commercials cost $x per month.
"Time for a siesta" Dustin as we buried 3 weary faces into three dirty pillows.
Rising 3 hours later, at 7:am local time, we began kicking tires and passing around ideas.
A few minutes later and we're putting the truck into 4 wheel drive which allowed the front and operating drive shafts pull the camper and truck into a parking lot next door.
We didn’t say “uh-oh” but we likely both thought it as Dave and I watched a probably shop owner storming towards us.
“So what am I going to do charge you $40.00 per day.”
With his face only 4” from Dave Hennigar’s, it was clear by the amount of spit hitting Dave’s face with the words that this guy wasn’t kidding.
Dave having played the role of that angry ontarion many times before had him soon apologising for overreacting.
Calling the owner of the camper, Paul, Dustin explained that he had two choices, pick up the camper 60km north of North Bay, or have no camper.
Need less to say Paul located a truck that he couldn’t previously locate.
At the same time, I’m on the phone with “Car Care Centre” signing up for a 1 hour tow truck and a $185.00 bill.
“Neutral” Cries Dustin from below the truck
“Neutral” I confirm after selecting the position on the gear shift.
With the exception of the word being cried varying back and forth from “neutral” to “park”.
After two return trips to Canadian tire to buy bigger hammer’s, 3 coffees we’ve completed the task shown in the video below in a rainy North Bay Parking Lot. The only difference between us and the video is that we were short the proper clothes, tools, and dry shop. However we’ve got plenty of cheer to make up for that…. (Okay, that’s nothing but a bold and unrepentant lie…. But we are making progress and growing more opptimistic
http://au.youtube.com/watch?v=vU9aRWHXweU&feature=related
Where does this leave us? currently we’re 7 hours behind schedule but saved 4 hours by not driving camper to Bancroft. We’re also out about $250.00 but we’ll save $75.00 in fuel.. .
The problem now is getting the u-joint back in, essentially reverse of that shown in the video.
We must be making some progress as Dave just checked in and told me to start researching how to get out of here and onto the highway.
For godsakes, with 3 iron rings and a Canadian tire 100m away surely to fuck we can fix things.
Wish us luck, tell it to stop raining and stay tuned for further updates.
Luke
"Time for a siesta" Dustin as we buried 3 weary faces into three dirty pillows.
Rising 3 hours later, at 7:am local time, we began kicking tires and passing around ideas.
A few minutes later and we're putting the truck into 4 wheel drive which allowed the front and operating drive shafts pull the camper and truck into a parking lot next door.
We didn’t say “uh-oh” but we likely both thought it as Dave and I watched a probably shop owner storming towards us.
“So what am I going to do charge you $40.00 per day.”
With his face only 4” from Dave Hennigar’s, it was clear by the amount of spit hitting Dave’s face with the words that this guy wasn’t kidding.
Dave having played the role of that angry ontarion many times before had him soon apologising for overreacting.
Calling the owner of the camper, Paul, Dustin explained that he had two choices, pick up the camper 60km north of North Bay, or have no camper.
Need less to say Paul located a truck that he couldn’t previously locate.
At the same time, I’m on the phone with “Car Care Centre” signing up for a 1 hour tow truck and a $185.00 bill.
“Neutral” Cries Dustin from below the truck
“Neutral” I confirm after selecting the position on the gear shift.
With the exception of the word being cried varying back and forth from “neutral” to “park”.
After two return trips to Canadian tire to buy bigger hammer’s, 3 coffees we’ve completed the task shown in the video below in a rainy North Bay Parking Lot. The only difference between us and the video is that we were short the proper clothes, tools, and dry shop. However we’ve got plenty of cheer to make up for that…. (Okay, that’s nothing but a bold and unrepentant lie…. But we are making progress and growing more opptimistic
http://au.youtube.com/watch?v=vU9aRWHXweU&feature=related
Where does this leave us? currently we’re 7 hours behind schedule but saved 4 hours by not driving camper to Bancroft. We’re also out about $250.00 but we’ll save $75.00 in fuel.. .
The problem now is getting the u-joint back in, essentially reverse of that shown in the video.
We must be making some progress as Dave just checked in and told me to start researching how to get out of here and onto the highway.
For godsakes, with 3 iron rings and a Canadian tire 100m away surely to fuck we can fix things.
Wish us luck, tell it to stop raining and stay tuned for further updates.
Luke
Temagimie ON
Dustin would probably kill me if he knew I was updating the blog right now.
As i type, Dave is putting the truck into 4 wheel drive. Last night at 1:30 am we blew the rear universal on the drive shaft which is currently hanging from below the truck. We're going to try and limp into a parking lot next door, then hope for a miracle that we can find a universal for a 2002 GMC Sierra 2500 somewhere in North Bay which is 60km south of us along the highway 11. .
Stay tuned
As i type, Dave is putting the truck into 4 wheel drive. Last night at 1:30 am we blew the rear universal on the drive shaft which is currently hanging from below the truck. We're going to try and limp into a parking lot next door, then hope for a miracle that we can find a universal for a 2002 GMC Sierra 2500 somewhere in North Bay which is 60km south of us along the highway 11. .
Stay tuned
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