Sarajevo!

September 27 Downtown Sarajevo

Overnight bus rides suck. I'll spare you the gripe session. The view makes it worthwhile.

Sarajevo is a small city of around 600,000 souls. People of my age know the city only as the stage for the tragic siege of during the war that lasted from 1992-1995. The ravages of this war scarred the facsades of buildings all over town. Huge chunks of concrete were ripped violently away, sometimes revealing an apartment. Some of these apartments have been patched and deemed livable by hardy Sarajevans. Bullet holes are the most common form of defacement. The city is still very much rebuilding, restoring and renovating. Some completely new buildings of glass and steel shine in contrast to the dirtier grayish fade of the structures that endured the war. A few completely destitute skeletons of concrete, enormous relics of the war, are so badly damaged from shelling and fire that they remain untouched. Soccer ball sized shell blast craters are filled with red cement. They are scattered throughout the central city. A plaque now and then recalls the names of victims from a particularly deadly shell.

The city is surrounded by steep hills, strategically it is easy to envision it under siege. But the small cabin-like homes that dot these hills otherwise completely covered in vibrant green foliage radiate an unmistakable liveliness that seems better suited for the city than the helter-skelter missing pieces of buildings. Mosques, synagogues, orthadox and catholic churches all lie within a couple blocks of one another in the center. The streets bustle with all of the activity of any other city I have yet seen in Europe. It is a city, not a ruin, after all. But things have a bit more of a somber feel here. It may be that it’s just the smallest city I have seen so far. It may not be.

I’ll now try and describe a summary of the history of the war. Serbs are predominantly Orthodox. Croats, Catholic. Muslims are called Bosniaks. Croats and Serbs have their own nations on either side of Bosnia and Herzagovina. Additionally, there are “Bosnian-Serbs” and “Bosnian-Croats.”

All three groups came to live in more-or-less equal numbers in the region as here the Russian/Byzantine, Austro-Hungarian/Catholic, and Ottoman Turk/Islam vied for territory over the centuries. Upon the breakup of Yugoslavia, Serbs began seizing territory and ethnic-cleansing aided by the fact that they had inherited most of the Yugoslav army. Croats and Muslims fought against them. Then Croatia decided enough was enough and began a similar policy of ethnic cleansing to pre-empt the Serbs. This set each ethno-religious group on its own. From 1992 to 1995 the war raged. Sarajevo was besieged twice by Serbs. The Dayton Agreement, negotiated under intense US and European political pressure as well as a NATO bombing campaign were signed in 1995. Peace has tenuous held since. (Nationalism flaming politicians in Serbia later set that country to attempt to settle Kosovo in 1999, even though Albanian Muslims still live there). Today Bosnia and Hercegovina is divided into two separate ‘entities’. A jagged area stretching mostly along the Northern and Eastern regions is called the Serb Republic. It controls 49% of the country. The rest is governed by the Federation of Bosnia and Hercegovina and includes Sarajevo. The administrative centers (capitals) of the two ‘entities’ are only 40 km apart.

All of the peoples of the country are Southern Slavic. Physically they are indistinguishable. Intermarriage was common. Ethnic cleansing has concentrated Croats in Hercegovina (Southwestern Bosnia and Hercegovina), Muslims in Sarajevo and central Bosnia, and Serbs in their entity to the North and East.

Elections are now being held in the Federation. Sarajevo is a nice town. The tourist season must be far gone; I have an apartment with no furniture but some 30 cots all to myself. There is a basic kitchen and warm water in the bathroom. I reckon I will stay here another couple of nights.

Their is good evidense of the state of integration of Sarajevo right now. The tourism industry exists but its a bit dodgy. When we were let into the apartment that comprises a tourism agency's "hostel" the man who led us there spoke not a word of English. He couldn't open the door and began angrily ringing the door bell. Eventually he pushed and pushed. The door gave. A half naked polish kid looked dazed. It was 7am. He started yelling at the Polish kid in Croatian and general angry monosyllabic grunts. Fortunately the staff of the hostel are safely some 7 blocks away from my apartment. Which is mine all mine. When an experience backpacker opens up a helpful, fun, AND cheap hostel things might liven up a bit in down town Sarajevo. For now, you have to visit despite the accomidations.

At least the lady that served me pizza was nice.

On Down the Danube

Serbian take pride in their nation's folk traditions. The next generation seems ready to take up the tradition.

To follow up on Budapest's woes:
The unrest was greatly exaggerated in Western media, as was the issue with the president's comments. His remark was taken out of context. When addressing his party we was reminding them that all of the parties lied last term and to get reelected and that there needed to be a better job done this time around. The media emphasized only the "we lied" aspect. It took a couple days of inquiries to reach straighten this out with locals. I worry that our news are too bored with the story to correct their errors.

Belgrade, Serbia - I wankered out on a commitment to not leave Budapest until I had some more work done on a project for Widjiwagan. I do have more work done, but it's not finished. Budapest is too swinging of a place. While the Hostel's free WiFi would be ideal for officish busy embodiment, almost $20/night and many fun people here and there are less conducive toward hard work and sound fiscal planning.

So Mr. Kris Weum, if you read this... I am going to do the rest of the stuff in small boring towns.

I got sick from staying up too late and being unaccustomed to Euro-flu. It's a lot like the flu back home but instead of my test feeling tight and sweating a lot, I felt tight in the pants and my hair got all greasy. That was another reason to skip Budapest, If I was going to sleep all day and all night, it might as well be on a train and then in a hostel.

My plan worked perfectly.

Belgrade, or beo-grad, as it is actually called (I know, who knew, right?) is a good city to visit. So Serbia is the country that whaled on Kosovo and then got whaled on my NATO. Before that it did much to precipitate the violence of the Balkanization of the 1990s with its nationalist policies and ambitions of yore.

Belgrade thus is a really crazy mix. It's young. It's old. It has beautiful old buildings like Prague and Budapest in the city center. These are mixed willy nilly with GROSS/UGLY/STUPID socialist blocks. It is an odd sight.

The first thing I saw getting off the train was an even more remarkable paradox or enigma or super-tough-mystery-problem. There before me, in the middle of down town, stood a HUGE Yugoslavia-era UGLY building with holes in it and a distorting bulge in the side. It looked structurally unsound. All of the buildings around it were barococo. Nice. Fancy. Not TOO fancy. This was a dangerous pile of ugliness. Upon closer looks of gaping mouthed tourist perfection, it appeared bombed. Holes extended from the ground to the top story, 13 stories or so up. It had broken windows in a blast radius. Nearby Barococo pillars were missing chunks. Another part had a section that looked blasted from the side. Maybe a missle, maybe a huge piece of destroyed other part of building... I would guess that this came from a NATO bombing run. The building could have been a government building or a Chinese embassy. Too soon?

The US embassy was about a two blocks away. How times do change. Serbia is on the rise in its capital. It looked like either of the EU capitals I have seen.

There are a lot of old people in the parks here. It's good to see places where 'old' is not synonymous with 'inactive.' People here apparently really love their rural folk heritage almost as much as the latest Italian fashions. Large-glassed tight pantsed youngsters, smiled clapped and chatted in a semi-circle around traditionally dressed dancers and their band. Older people in the park spontaneously joined in a dance that would have been seen only in a sketch comedy show in the states.

Knowing the Cyrillic alphabet (or rooski-glyphics as my British friends calls them) has been a good thing here. Pigeon Russian is likewise back in vogue (with myself). The best Slavic-tongued interaction I have had so far was at a pastry shop. I asked if a pastry had meat in it. The worker said, "of course," intoning "you idiot" without needing to verbalize it. My friend bought it. Of course the croissant has a cold hot dog in it you fool. How else could you enjoy the flaky goodness of the pastry?

Late last night we ran into a young serb. A self-describe "hip hop artist" he aspires to see Dr. Dre and Snoop Dog in Compton before visiting Detroit to scope the haunts of Eminem. He told us of how Serbia was poorly represented in the media, which seemed valid. And of how what happened in Kosovo "was nothing," which didn't. I don't think he denied any problems but rather blamed it on meddlesome Albania. After telling us that young people everywhere want the same thing, to hang out, be friends and live in peace (great) regardless of race, creed or religion, he told us to avoid Albania because Albanians are crazy. The conversation turned towards relations in the Balkans when at the beginning of the conversation my companions from the hostel told him that they were working in Croatia. He had just finished recording an album in Zagred (capitol of Croatia) and felt that by-gones should be by-gones... I guess the amnesty only extended to those involved in the Bosnian War.

Speaking of which, I have a bus to Sarajevo to catch in a couple hours.

I am getting eager to travel away from big cities, but its hard to pass up Sarajevo. The coasts of Montenegro and Albania, Macedonia and Bulgaria should all be largely town-oriented.

Two Tickets Please! The Train to Surreality

Unity Hostel, Central Pest of Budapest, September 21st - The train ride from Prague to Budapest passed with a whiff of surreality. You know when you feel awake all night long but somehow manage to "wake up" intermittently and with due irritation. Yeah, one of those. In this case the unwelcome interruptions came when the train stopped ("Oh God! Are we here already?!? But I'm not wearing pants!") and when the police knocked on my door. In the former situation I would try and calm myself. "Look Self," I would say, "you're just paranoid because you haven't done this before and your language skills smell. It will be LIGHT OUT when I/you/we get there, stupid. In latter case of police knockery I would rouse myself grope for my passport until I found it in the dark, lurch to the door, pause to consider finding a shirt, decide that it would only cause a delay and open the door shirtless, blurry eyed and generally dishevelled. It's better to be a slob dealing with a stern Slovakian policeman at 4am than to be presentable but dealing with a angry Slovakian policeman at 4:05 am. I'll have to remember to tell that to my son on his wedding day. Then I would hand over the passport with a friendly incoherent gutteral vocalization and then mumble something I meant to sound apologetic as the wrinkled brow searched for the right stamp in my little collection. Finding it, it is stamped again on the door jamb. I got used to the routine and started to feel like I was actually resting around day break. After sleeplessness at night, once it's time to get organized and pay attention I am unable to stay awake.

Fortunately Budapest was also stretched a little thin that night, what with the demostration and all. I met some Argentines at the hostel and we went for a walk. The scene at the paliamentary building was civil but angry. Speakers spoke. Protesters protested. Guards Guarded and Journalists journal-listed it all for our consumption. We moved on, and I will say that Budapest is a soulful city, also not to be missed.

It was recruitted to "go out" with the Argentinians. They made it clear that anything less would be lame. I was tired but I agreed. Social pressures are strong stuff when you're on unsteady ground. The spot we went to featured a Hungarian usion jazz folk band playing some US pop covers like "These Boots Are Made for Walkin'" by Nancy Sinatra and, of course, Hungarian fusion jazz folk songs. A loud mix of Hungary and places further West through and through.

Topical Digression: I love hostelling. I bummed around Budapest all day with Argentines, ate dinner with them them, an Irishman and a Japanese girl (we were all traveling solo), talked world affairs, talked religion, coversed of topics unfit for conversation, slept, cooked, checked email, learned the best route in the city from a friendly local, and ate breakfast on a tine balcony with two Israelis. The music school across the street bleched opera and flute scales. All that and more for $15/night! Eat that Hilton.

Chronological Progression: On my way home, and their way to the next happening joint, we came to the hostel. It is about a block away from the biggest street in Pest (Buda is on the other side of the Danube). A chemically smell hung in the air and a crowd of a few score was backing up the main street slowly. Loud pops that sounded like gun shots (but certainly were not!) confirmed that the police were nearby. Aha, the "chaos gripping the Hungarian capitol." I got my camera. This must have been a minor group of hooligans or something because there was little chaos, just lots and lots of police, a solid serving of tear gas and a sprinkle of hooliganism. It was a recipe for cautious photography. Lots of other photographers where running around, so I felt good about the situation.

To summarize, stupidly reckless unnecessary force begot stupidly wielded unnecessary force. From my vantage, police chased unseen perpetrators of unwitnessed offenses. Burst into side streets and buildings seemingly at random and found what they were looking for. 6 arrests were made between my side street and the main square where they called it a night around 3am.

My camera is high def and this connection slowish. More pictures are in the gallery though.

Lost Voice: Night Soul Glow in Prague

Cafe with Turkish Coffee Between Castle and Bridge, September 19 - The Castle Was Neat. Of course its not the places I go, but the funny little things I do, people I meet and musings I mull over in between that I end up writing about. I don't think I could write a decent paragraph about Prague castle. I'll just say this, it's pristine and well worth seeing. Being a tourist for me is all about pressing wherever I am hard to make an imprint upon myself. It's better to stay a while and let a place settle more comfortably on you. But that's a luxury of time we busy tourists cannot afford. So we take a lot of pictures and hope for the best.

As a lingered in Prague throughout the day, having seen everything close by and free that I wanted to see, I read. I read Life of Pi.

I have noticed that I write much better when I am reading a well written book. I mean I feel that I have a clearer voice, less need to be pithy and the process feels more simple and hopeful. More purpose, less agenda. I worry though that it's not my own voice that relates and reflects but that of some other more talented author. He tells about my day, through me. Sunlight and prism. I contribute a pleasant spectrum, assorted and arranged for viewing pleasure but there was no original creation. I bend it. My independence and ego are not satisfied with this arrangement. To hell with post-modern languish, I want to be it. The original, the base, the flour in your cake. But original goddamn creation. That's divine. But the harder one tries for such a thing, the more pathetic the attempt. Gothic spires and vaulted ceilings may be impressive in a given light and no one would say it wasn't a noble attempt. But it's pitiful when I look at it from a nearby hill. It's nice to get over myself now and then. It's the view.

The mechanism is now underway for an application to Grad School at U of Washington. Once you get this sort of process rolling, it's more or less unstoppable. I have to say I think that signing up for more school is a bit like enlisting in the WWI. Sure, it seems like the right thing to do and there are high hopes for the future. Glory, honor and purpose: that's the thing to get me on the happy track. And that I've signed on, I put in so much work! I feel validated when my superiors think I'm 93% fantastic. So if I get accepted I'll probably go. That's why men charge from the trenches. Momentum. Well that has a certain element of idiocy in a supposedly intelligent affair. Consider the following, you can make US wages and live where the living standard is geared towards a salary of $2,000/year and learn Arabic. Just move to Dubai. Being a native English speaker is to be born with a silver spoon in your mouth.

On my way back from the castle, it was dark outside and growing darker. Lamp posts along the Charles Bridge illuminated dirty yellow patches of stonework. Pigeons darted into and out of the otherwise invisible bubbles of bright. The buildings of any historic and aesthetic significance were lit from below all along the river and into town on both sides. The imposing rampart of Prague Castle with the aspiring spires of the Cathedral behind was particularly striking. A semi-circle formed half-way across the bridge. I assumed a statue was being toured (the tours do still run just after dark). But the epicenter was a jazz band. Lighting up cigarettes and faces with laughter. They played 1920s jazz tunes well. People danced, tapped toes and snapped shots. Once a tourist, always a tourist. I decided to let my tourist rest in peace for the night.

The moment was too good to be true and flash bulbs do not add to such romance.

PS: If it seems like I am saying the word "I" a lot it is because when I first wrote this stuff I wrote a lot of the generalities with you (e.g. But it's pitiful when you look at it from a nearby hill. It's nice to get over yourself now and then. It's the view.) I decided that being self-centered was better than putting words in your mouth.

Okay in Hungary

This is just a quick heads up. I got into Hungary this morning, after the demonstrations. I'll be careful as a clam. If you have no idea what I am talking about, click here. I really need to get pictures up... and I will.

Of Dirty, Smelly Pants and Hostels

I forgot to put my predeparture post online, it's two posts down from this one. Czech it out. Sorry.

Newtown Prague - Newtown Prague was founded in 1326 about 100 meters from Old Town Prague. Old Town Prague was founded a hundred years or so earlier. There is just so much history in Europe, you know? yes.

I am going to get trapped tourist style in Prague Castle today. There the Second Defenestration of Prague occurred in the 15th century that set off the 30 years war. In the end, the Catholics won. Good thing too because their cathedrals are so shiny.

The 17th I woke up at 4am and wandered the city fearless of feeling like a super-tourist. I am working on getting over the fact that I do not and more or less will not speak a word of any native tongue during my travels for the next month. Hopefully broken Russian will be in higher demand down South. Walking around the city before light was great. People said Dobrei Den to me, acknowledging my humanity and allowing me to feel above average once more. After watching the sunrise, the cursory early morning greeting is my favorite part of getting going really really early. I took photos of some famous landmarks that are strikingly beautiful and historic without crowds of people around. That was nice.

Finally I walked up a Hill on the West side of town and watched the sun rise. The pointy self-involved heavenly aspirations of Gothic architecture had never really done it for me. But seeing the towers lit by the first spears of rosy light gave me a new appreciation for them. Later that day I attended an organ, trumpet and vocal concert in one of the cathedrals. Hearing Mozart echo from the vaulted frescoes was just that... better than imagination and better than words. It was so peaceful and I was so exhausted from walking since before the sunrise that I actually couldn't keep from head bobbing. Embarrassing.

The next day I worked on stuff. Writing and reading as well as reading and writing. The night was enlightening. I met some strange Americans: strange in that they were so normal. So... predetermined in their world view and sort of typically not understanding of cultural differences. You don't run into that in hostels very often. It is really cool that they are here. I hope they loosen up a bit along the way. You meet more people like Tammy from England.

Tammy went right to school after high school. But everything she has done since has been unconventional and, I would argue, smart as hell. She used her student status to take out student loans. She bought a house with the money and with rent and a couple of years working paid the monthly charges easily. She sold the house and made enough money to spend the last two years basically travelling... everywhere. She has lived and worked for a few months in commonwealth countries but nothing quite stuck so she's been scratching pavement like a pro. She finagled her way into Canada despite heavy restrictions on work visas with similar ingenuity. She applied for a student visa. Said she needed to make sure she could work, so got a 3 month work visa through the easy to get student visa. Living proof that bureaucracies were meant to be broken. Immigration reform will never work.

Before bed I got pulled into interrogating a Slovenian about the Yugoslavia break up. I guess it was actually pretty violent and complicated. I learned a lot from her about the tragedy of the state that could never be a nation. I am set on visiting Sarajevo now.

I worry that Central Asian countries, similarly contrived, may eventually meet a similar fate in a moment of crisis. I am listening to a Czech cover of John Denver's Country Roads in the 85 degree internet cafe. It's really good.

The song. Not the Heat.

I'm booked for the late night train to Bupapest. 9 hours in a bed and a ride all for 40 bucks.

I will put some pictures up today if I can find a Wifi spot.

Of Airplanes and Sweaty Pants

Old Town Prague - I made it to Prague in spite of myself. I've had a few little mix ups since I left for the Czech Republic the best of which was booking my ticket from Minneapolis to JFK instead of Newark (I mean, come on, it's all New England or New York or whatever up there on the East Coast). My plane landed about an hour and a half or so behind schedule. I had 2 hours to get onto my flight to Frankfurt and I was at the wrong airport. There was no time to evaluate the best option and plan it out. I had to rely on a sure(?) thing.

So I took a taxi from JFK to Newark at 6pm. "The Tunnel" wasn't too bad so we made it in a little over an hour. Unfortunately it was one of the most expensive hours of my life. The taxi with tolls and tips cost $140. UGH. UGH GUH HUG UGH. Fortunately the driver was a Pakistani expat. So I was able to ask one or two questions about the politics o'er thar and keep him talking, hands flying off the wheel gesturing this way and that while our eyes stayed locked penetrated the depths of one anothers' soul. We never more than 2 feet from the bumper in front of us in slam and go NYC traffic but with no eyes and no hands he got me to beautiful Newark airport in time. He earned his $140, I got a magic show, politics and government lecture and expert driving for only $2 a minute. Can't beat that price, not with brass knuckles.

On the plane I sat next to a youngish Russian couple living in Connecticut (pronounced as spelled). He insisted on eating the first class meal and pouted, shouted and heckled until he damn well got it. She "doesn't like Spanish and Italian." It was unclear if she meant the places, the people, the languages, anyone speaking the languages or anything to do with any of the above. He selected the take off, a loud procedure, to tell me a story in Russian about how people (I am not sure of what relation to me or him) had tried to walk from the tip of Patagonia across the Eurasian continent via the Beiring straight (I assume they took a boat across THAT). Well they got arrested in Russia because they didn't get their passports stamped. How silly to walk so far only to be arrested for no stamp.

I know what you are probably thinking: "Okay... and..."

That expression must have been written on my face as well because Misha felt obligated to relate the story back to his previous topic of conversation, cars. "If you built a bridge between Alaska and Russia, you could drive around the entire world!"

"Wow, da." I smiled and agreed.

"But not Japan" his wife added

"Or australia" He said.

"Also Iceland" I rejoined.

"But there is a tunnel between France and England, so that would not be hard."

I decided not to delve into the fact that it's a passenger train tunnel, so driving would probably not be advisable.


In Frankfurt I had a LONG layover. The languages de jour are Russian, Turkish and Arabic. I got to Prague a few hours late. It was already quite dark. I managed to navigate the city and the public transit with my bags flawlessly. BOOYA-KASHA.

The first hostel was full. The second was literally a gymnasium full of young people, noise and light. The third was just right. I had to walk about a mile up a big hill through a dark park but the strange middle-aged British man under the lamppost was right, there was lots of cheap housing in dorm rooms (MY OWN ROOM!) at the top. A pretty view of the city nearby to boot.

Czech is not Russian, but its close enough for both parties to think that there is understanding. These conversations have left both parties a little less sure of where we stand in the world and have resulted in me consulting my guide book religiously. The young people speak a lot of english though. I am immediately spotted as an anglo. When I open my mouth to sputter some broken Russian or Czech they just smile, wait for me to finish and say something relevant in English.

I am starting to get over the "oh God, I don't function here" feeling today and am moving into the "F-it this shit is hilarious" phase.

Being the obvious and uninitiated tourist somewhere is like a first date. Curious and naive yet terrified. I know that I am paying too much for a so-so lunch but there is nothing to do about it. There is nothing like sitting on the bed for 20 minutes with the guide book trying to memorize where I need to go for what I need to do and getting 'psyched up' to get it done. Then I think about what I am going to say to seem cool and fit in. But it's all for naught. Locals can smell fear.

Czech Please!

So I forgot to post this before I left... sorry. I'm about to leave for the points East. I'll fly into Prague by this time tomorrow morning. From there I intend to wander East and South, through Hungary, Slovakia Croatia, Serbia, Montenegro, Albania, Macedonia, Bulgaria and back to the Czech Republic. That is the outline. I have no plans set in stone though so it will likely turn out quite differently. I will leave Europe on the 22nd of October for Kyrgyzstan. I'll be there until the first week of april.

I feel like I'm leaving more than a couple of loose ends here in the states, but I think that it's okay. It would be impossible not to leave a lot of precious people and great opportunities in the states. So I'll cast off anyway and do my best to keep a good number of relationships going long distance.

I found a passage from Ulysses at the house I was working on.

"I cannot rest from travel; I will drink life to the lees. All times I have enjoyed greatly, have suffered greatly, both with those that loved me, and alone; on shore, and when through scuddling drifts the rainy Hyades vexed the dim sea... I am a part of all that I have met, yet all experience is an arch where through gleams that untraveled world whose margins fades forever and forever when I move. How dull it is to pause, to make an end, to rest unburnished, not to shine in use! As though to breathe were life! Life piled on life were all too little, and of one to me little remains. But every hour is saved from that eternal silence, something more, a bringer of new things; and vile it were for some three suns to store and hoard myself, and this gray spirit yearning in desire to follow knowledge like a sinking star beyong the utmost bound of human thought."


I get a little mixed up aroung the three suns part but you get the idea: "travel is great."

For diversity of thought, experience and perspective I can imagine no better measure than the languages one knows.

Time to pick up a couple.

Institutions: Insta-Solutions! YAY!

When I think about voting, I am sad and a little mad. So here goes.

Our current political system stifles the incentives for innovative and asymmetrical problem solving that are critical for good government. The whole world communicates and collaborates as never before. Individuals inspire, create and innovate as a part of their daily routine on the web. Yet our politics are more polarized than ever before. Each party is so mired by special interests that true vision, cooperation and leadership (the reason people presumably get into politics) eludes politicians from both parties.

Campaign finance reform looks to treat the symptoms of disproportional special interest influence but the proposals miss the institutional nature of the problem. Minnesota’s state political system rewards large political parties that represent a wide diversity of voters. The upside to this system is relative stability and a historical tendency for the two main parties to compromise. There is a significant downside, however. In order to be “electable” a candidate must adopt the policy posture of one of the two main parties. In order to raise the money necessary to compete in today’s heated electoral competition a candidate must appeal to sets of special interests. No one gets into politics to take orders from PETA or the NRA, but once in office politicians are beholden to their sponsors.

Politicians do it because they can take their voters for granted. They are correct in doing so. The current electoral system very much encourages it.

Our system rewards only the absolute winner. If 49.9% percent of the population voted for the Green Party in every district and 50.1% voted Libertarian Party, the entire House of Representatives would be completely Libertarian. So voters must vote for someone capable of winning. If a voter’s heart is not with the Libertarians, she is likely to vote for them simply because she does not like the Green Party. It’s no wonder that turnouts are low on Election Day; it’s no fun to have to choose the lesser of two evils.

People ought to be able to vote for the party they wholeheartedly support. A proportional representation (PR) system rather than the current “winner takes all” would better encourage people to vote their conscience. In PR system voters select a party to support. Each party is then allotted a number of seats in proportion to the number of vote received. Instituting a limited PR system in the lower house would help alleviate many of the deficiencies of our current system.

First, it would encourage more people to vote as their vote would go to a party that more accurately reflects their beliefs. Second, it would spur debate, giving attention to a great many issues considered to be “political suicide.” Third, it would free Republicans and Democrats from the restraints of special interests. Lastly, and most importantly, it will produce dynamic and responsive leadership capable of direction and inspiration.

It is inherently against the interests of both the Republicans and the Democrats to offer up power to smaller parties. The tools exist, however, to break up the political cartel in the form of email, blogs and other decentralized communication technologies.

Giving citizens a bigger stake in governance by devolving power from the two parties will result in a more robust civil society, a stronger state and reinvigorated democracy

Tariff for Tariff Leaves the Whole World Poor

``... My message to the world is this: just treat us as we treat you." -George W. Bush

In all fairness this is remark was made regarding trade. On the other hand we may be more hypocritical in this area than most.

Unplugging in a Wireless World

Wilderness provides critical perspective for people to see their lives more clearly. Hiking, Climbing, Canoeing or Backpacking relieves us of the expectations, errands and routines of the cities. Expectations become fuller relationships. Errands are replaced with actions that directly affect your physical needs. Routine fades to rhythm. The absence of the people, places and things of home allows us to define ourselves independently.

Contemporary technology allows people to express themselves more easily: from anywhere, at anytime, and in most any medium. It is a compelling set of tools for each individual. People, especially young people, now live increasingly immersed in this ability to access information, connect with others and document a moment instantaneously. Though perhaps while expression and immersion is increasingly mastered, the value of introspection and internal identity is become eroded.

The change in photography may illustrate the point most relevantly in the context of wilderness travel. Jake Hansen was a participant on a 40+ day arctic trip 9 years ago. On their trip there was only slide film. The images they brought home exist almost exclusively in slide form. The slideshow physically is retained by only one trip participant at a time and can only be viewed with a slide projector.

Jake Hansen led my arctic trip four years ago. Two participants brought film cameras with print film. The other three brought disposable cameras. We got our pictures developed in three different formats: prints, slides and digital files. We also made a slide show on a carousel, but the campers also exchanged some of the better shots on computers. Since my year, most every slideshow exists only digitally. I imagine it would be hard to make a carousel of slides today if you wanted to.

On the trips I led this summer, all of the 17 year olds on my 22 day hike brought digital cameras. So too did the 13 year olds on a week long canoe trip. The younger kids proved much more adept at utilizing the various features of up-to-date digital cameras. They took videos of each other. The videos were apparently pretty hilarious as watching the video left them with split sides. They had to watch it again. As soon as the entertainment value of the recent video faded, the camera owner quickly turned to some videos he and his friends made back in Minneapolis. We had succeeded in slipping out of the present (picturesque Hustler Lake in the BWCA) and back to watching screens in the city. That pretty well undermines most of the reasons I enjoy taking kids on trips in the BWCA. Yet at no one point was the slide away from the present unreasonable.

The slide evoked a question for me, to what extent is technology in my life allowing me to live more fully and to what extent is it diluting my ability to make the most of the present?

The wilderness is a uniquely fantastic place to explore that question and so many others. As the world continues to become more instantaneous and interconnected it is al the more important to step back, disconnect and take time to decide which instantaneous connections are worth having.

People Taste Better When Allowed to Breath

The past few days have been full. Working roofing during the day and seeing friends at night. I know that I won't get to see anyone for a long time soon, so it is hard to justify missing any opportunity to spend time with close friends while I still can. It would be untruthful to say that I have been "busy." Evenings at Twins games, cooking pizza and catching up are hardly stressful activities. But even as I relished every moment, something felt out of place. I hadn't had digested any of it. I have gotten into the habit of reflecting and digesting most every bit of my life this summer (thus the web log) and after only a few days in the city routine I had fallen into the habit of consummate activity. Reflection is not a matter of being alone or with others. I learn a lot from pondering and writing by myself as well as having intimate flowing conversations with others. Proper reflection is only a matter of removing the restrictions of time and focus to let things go where they may.

After breakfast this morning, I sat outside with five friends. None of us had anywhere to be or anything we needed to do for the next few hours. We simply listened and talked in turn... Steve and I doing our fair share of the latter. The conversation just rolled from one subject to another. It twisted and turned from Jesus to quantum mechanics to favorite trail foods.

Coming away from it, there was a sense of deep satisfaction. Appreciation breeds satisfaction as one comes to see new beauty in something that has always been there. It gives life another welcome bit of inherent worth. I appreciated my friends as persons of remarkable depth after sitting for three hours and allowing the conversation to go from the profane to the profound and around again. Too often we are so occupied that every moment of life needs to be well used. But instead utilizing every moment to its fullest such occupation eventually reduces life to a script.

The best comedy is typically born of improv.

Like a good wine, life needs air.