Here is a roughly chronological list of the events of mine and Jill’s moving experience to Crestline, California.

It all starts in late 2007 when Jill and I decide to move to the mountains outside of Los Angeles to be closer to our families. It’s a bit of a rush to move, and what complicates matters is that we don’t have a place to move into. Fortunately, our local real estate agent has a vacation cabin that she is willing to rent to us cheap, because it’s usually unoccupied during the winter months anyway.

We drive down the coast
The final packing begins on December 28th, after my last day at Smilebox.com. I picked up a 6×10 Uhaul trailer and loaded it to the roof. We took off on December 31st and made it just a few miles down I-5 before we stopped to spend the night in a shit-hole town near Long View, Washington.

I was sound asleep when the New Year rolled in. I think Jill was reading a book.

Day Two comes and the weather is a bit nasty as we make it down US 101 along the Oregon coast. Jill found a great little hotel in Newport, right on the edge of the cliffs overlooking the stormy Pacific. The problem was that the entrance to the hotel was far too steep for me to drive the Pathfinder up while hauling a Uhaul trailer.

Unfortunately, one of the owners suggested we could park at a vacant house next door. I drive down a few hundred feet and turn into the driveway. Problem: there is not enough room for me to turn around and I end up getting stuck in their gravel driveway. (Note: getting Uhauls stuck becomes a theme of this adventure. )

Uhaul fun, part one
So me and this guy work together to get the trailer turned around, and I unhook the Pathfinder and drive back to the hotel. Now I’m a bit edgy because I have no idea how I’m going to get that trailer out of the driveway. But, as fortune would have it, the guy who suggested I park there in the first place goes down early the next morning. He kindly uses his truck to pull the trailer out and down to a nice paved and flat storage area not far away.

Jill and I ended up staying at the hotel for 3 nights, just relaxing. During this time one of the worst Pacific storms in years is coming ashore. We sat by the fireplace and watched the crashing waves.

After resting up we drive on down the coast a bit further to Bandon and stay in a place for two nights with an even better sea stacks-type view.

After this stop we drive pretty long days to get to LA. This is where the fun really begins.

The Crestline vacation cabin
I unloaded the Uhaul trailer into a storage unit down in San Bernardino and we take just the essentials, computers, desks, and such, up to the cabin we’re staying in up in Crestline.

Remember that storm that I mentioned earlier? Well, it didn’t just hit Oregon. It covered the entire coast and dumped about 2 feet of snow in Crestline. By the time we get there the roads are plowed and clear but no one had been to the cabin yet to clear a path.

Unfortunately, someone had stolen the snow shovel, and the only thing I had to use was a little iron shovel that’s supposed to be for the fireplace. It doesn’t take long to break that flimsy little thing. I end up on my knees shoveling icy snow off the steps with this tiny utensil so that I can carry our electronics into the cabin.

The next day the cable guy comes out and installs cable Internet access so that Jill and I can work. That much goes well and after a few weeks we are just about caught up with work when another big storm comes through. This one dumps more snow and knocks out the power. Not just to our house. Not just to the neighborhood. But to the entire mountain top community.

No power, no heat
We spend the night under every blanket in the cabin as the temperature drops down near freezing. The next day – Friday – we head down to Jill’s parents house in San Diego to relax in a warmer climate while they work on getting the power restored.

By Sunday, I’m pretty sure they have the power back on, so we head back up to the cabin. I was wrong. The power is still out. There’s nothing to do but get back in bed under all the blankets and hope the power comes back on soon.

Around 10 AM on Monday the power finally comes back on. And then goes out. And then comes back on. And so on. For days.

Now Jill and I are behind on our work again but finally the power is back on for good and the weather is warm. And to top things off, we have found a permanent place to move into starting February 1st. All good news!

Looking for rentals – back and forth at the whims of fate

• Okay, we’re not moving into our first choice so we’ll go with our second choice.

• No, wait, first choice is still an option, maybe. Lets go with that then.

• Oh, wait, now we’ve lost our second choice.

• And now the first choice is in question again.

• Oh, good. We can move into our first choice.

( Note: it’s a bit stressful to get bounced between choices. )

A stuck truck – Uhaul fun, part two
The week leading up to our move has great weather. The snow is almost all melted. Roads clear. Here we go.

Day one we move everything from the cabin over to our house. One little problem is that the owner hasn’t gotten everything out of the house yet. So we have a mixture of our furniture and his cluttering up the house. The house is also dirty and swimming in spiders. Not a good start.

Day two of the moving and I go down to San Bernardino and rent a Uhaul truck to bring the rest of our stuff up from storage. This is going to be a quick move. I’ll load up the truck, haul it up the mountain with all the big stuff that won’t fit in the Pathfinder, unload real quick and head back down. One day and get it over with.

Once I get the Uhaul truck unloaded I start to drive back up the access road. No go. The tires just spin on the wet asphalt. I should mention that our access road is as steep as a road can be and still get paved. The Uhaul just doesn’t have the traction on the wet asphalt to get up the hill.

Okay, so I’ll just wait till the next day and get down to San Bernardino to pick up the Pathfinder. I’m sure that I can use it to help pull the Uhaul up the road.

Next morning I get up. Look outside and there’s a fresh 8 inches of snow on the ground. I’m not going anywhere!

I start the day by shoveling a path up to the top of the hill. It’s only about 300 feet or so. There’s not much else I can do. It snows some more and I shovel some more. Repeat all day, fall into bed exhausted.

The path here at the bottom leads beside the Uhaul. The Uhaul truck is just out of frame to the right.

The next day I get a ride down to San Bernardino to bring the Pathfinder back. At least we will finally have transportation.

It turns out I can only get the Pathfinder about 1/4 of the way down the access road. I’ll have to carry things down the rest of the way. I counted 45 trips – give or take a few. At least it’s good exercise.

Still stuck and now one handed
After shoveling all this snow I’ve injured my right wrist. At first it’s just tender and difficult to grasp and twist things. But after another day it becomes debilitating. But, work must go on so I’m still out there shoveling, carrying and making it worse and worse by the day.

Finally I get a guy to come out with a small tractor with rubber treads to clear away enough snow to get the Uhaul truck out. After he clears away most of the snow we realize that there’s no way he can pull the truck out until the next day when the remainder of the ice/snow melts.

The next day the owner of the house we are renting shows up to get his stuff out of here. He’s a retired man and not used to the 5000 + foot altitude here so I help him out – even though it’s killing my wrist.

He realizes that it’s going to take days to get everything out with his small little trailer and get his furniture down the mountain. But then we have an idea. Why not load it all in the Uhaul? The extra weight will help it get better traction going up the hill. When the guy shows up with his tractor we’ll zip right no out of here.

Well, the guy with the tractor shows up with just his truck. He thinks he can get me out with that so we hook up and give it a try.

The extra weight in the Uhaul definitely helps. I can get much further up the hill than before. The problem: the guy trying to pull me can’t get out himself. Now he’s stuck. His wheelbase is much wider and he’s spinning in the snow.

So I run up the hill, back the Pathfinder down and hook on.

Zip, right up the hill we go. No problem – except that I tied onto his crash bar and ripped the hell out of it. Whoops! He said he has a welder and stuff to fix it, no worries. I feel bad that he’s the one who got his truck stuck.

Now I back down with the Pathfinder and hook up to try and pull the Uhaul out. Mind you that we have to clear a bunch of snow again because the guy with the truck has made a mess out of our clean path up the hill. I take more Ibuprofen and grit my teeth.

This is the final leg to the house. The Uhaul truck is just out of frame to the right.

After injuring my wrist even more I start pulling the Uhaul up with the Pathfinder. Zip, up and out, no problem. When I get to the top the guy driving – the guy who owns the house we’re moving into – says, “You know, I had the emergency break on all the way up.”

The Pathfinder is a stud. That much is certain.

Moved in at last and Uhaul-free
Now we have all the stuff that’s supposed to be in the house here. And everything that’s not supposed to be here is finally gone. The Uhaul truck was returned 6 days late but at least it’s done. Now we can get down to organizing, and putting things together. The fun part of the move.

Jill and I both agree: the next time we move we’re paying someone to do it for us.

polyGeek letters

My idea is to create a sporting cross between Mountaineering and Moving called Movaneering. Here’s how it works:

Just like traditional mountaineering – or whoosy man mountaineering as I like to call it now – this new sport is performed at high altitude, 5000 feet or more.

Here is an example of the sort of trail you might dig in a movaneering event. Note, the bottom step is exposed in this photo. There is still another 6 inches to go before reaching the ground.

Mountaineers hike on trails. But a movaneer creates his/her own trail by digging in the snow and ice down to solid earth with a variety of shovels.

A mountaineer carries a backpack. A movaneer carries things like bookshelves and couches. Plus numerous boxes of books. And of course the movaneer always works solo. He carries everything all alone, over icy paths that he clears himself.

When a movaneer takes a rest he won’t just sit back and relax in front of a fire. No, a movaneer sits down at his computer and works.

A movaneer doesn’t slow down when he suffers an injury. Whether it be broken toes or a sprained wrist a movaneer just grits his teeth and mushes on.

The main thing that mountaineering has in common with movaneering is the goal of accomplishment. In mountaineering the goal is to climb to a summit and return. In movaneering the goal is to unload the UHaul truck.

If you’re up to the challenge and would like to become a movaneer, then I suggest doing lots of abdominal exercises to prevent injuring your back. You should train by lifting the furniture in your house, by yourself, and moving it around. Eventually you can work yourself up to where you can carry a couch solo over an icy incline.

I’m talking to ESPN about adding this to the Winter X Games. I’ll keep you posted on how the negotiations go.

polyGeek letters

December 6, 2001

If you wondered about all those flights that were in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean on the morning of September 11th, here is an up-close-and-personal story written by a Delta Airlines flight attendant enroute from Frankfurt to Atlanta.

**********

We were about 5 hours out of Frankfurt flying over the North Atlantic and I was in my crew rest seat taking my scheduled rest break. All of a sudden the curtains parted violently and I was told to go to the cockpit, right now, to see the captain. As soon as I got there I noticed that the crew had one of those All Business” looks on their faces. The captain handed me a printed message. I quickly read the message and realized the importance of it. The message was from Atlanta, addressed to our flight, and simply said, “All airways over the Continental US are closed. Land ASAP at the nearest airport, advise your destination.”

Now, when a dispatcher tells you to land immediately without suggesting which airport, one can assume that the dispatcher has reluctantly given up control of the flight to the captain. We knew it was a serious situation and we needed to find terra firma quickly. It was quickly decided that the nearest airport was 400 miles away, behind our right shoulder, in Gander, on the island of New Foundland. A quick request was made to the Canadian traffic controller and a right turn, directly to Gander, was approved immediately. We found out later why there was no hesitation by the Canadian controller approving our request. We, the in-flight crew, were told to get the airplane ready for an immediate landing.

While this was going on another message arrived from Atlanta telling us about some terrorist activity in the New York area. We briefed the in-flight crew about going to Gander and we went about our business ‘closing down’ the airplane for a landing. A few minutes later I went back to the cockpit to find out that some airplanes had been hijacked and were being flown into buildings all over the US. We decided to make an announcement and LIE to the passengers for the time being. We told them that an instrument problem had arisen on the airplane and that we needed to land at Gander, to have it checked. We promised to give more information after landing in Gander. There were many unhappy passengers but that is par for the course.

We landed in Gander about 40 minutes after the start of this episode. There were already about 20 other airplanes on the ground from all over the world. After we parked on the ramp the captain made the following announcement. “Ladies and gentlemen, you must be wondering if all these airplanes around us have the same instrument problem as we have. But the reality is that we are here for a good reason.” Then he went on to explain the little bit we knew about the situation in the US. There were loud gasps and stares of disbelief. Local time at Gander was 12:30 p.m. (11:00 a.m. EST) Gander control told us to stay put. No one was allowed to get off the aircraft. No one on the ground was allowed to come near the aircrafts. Only a car from the airport police would come around once in a while, look us over and go on to the next airplane.

In the next hour or so all the airways over the North Atlantic were vacated and Gander alone ended up with 53 airplanes from all over the world, out of which 27 were flying US flags. We were told that each and every plane was to be offloaded, one at a time, with the foreign carriers given the priority. We were No. 14 in the US category. We were further told that we would be given a tentative time to deplane at 6 p.m.

Meanwhile bits of news started to come in over the aircraft radio and for the first time we learned that airplanes were flown into the World Trade Center in New York and into the Pentagon in DC. People were trying to use their cell phones but were unable to connect due to a different cell system in Canada. Some did get through but were only able to get to the Canadian operator who would tell them that the lines to the US were either blocked or jammed and to try again.

Some time late in the evening the news filtered to us that the World Trade Center buildings had collapsed and that a fourth hijacking had resulted in a crash. Now the passengers were totally bewildered and emotionally exhausted but stayed calm as we kept reminding them to look around to see that we were not the only ones in this predicament. There were 52 other planes with people on them in the same situation. We also told them that the Canadian Government was in charge and we were at their mercy. True to their word, at 6 p.m.,Gander airport told us that our turn to deplane would come at 11 a.m., the next morning. That took the last wind out of the passengers and they simply resigned and accepted this news without much noise and really started to get into a mode of spending the night on the airplane.

Gander had promised us any and all medical attention if needed; medicine, water, and lavatory servicing. And they were true to their word. Fortunately we had no medical situation during the night. We did have a young lady who was 33 weeks into her pregnancy. We took REALLY good care of her.

The night passed without any further complications on our airplane despite the uncomfortable sleeping arrangements. About 10:30 on the morning of the 12th we were told to get ready to leave the aircraft. A convoy of school buses showed up at the side of the airplane, the stairway was hooked up and the passengers were taken to the terminal for processing. We, the crew, were taken to the same terminal but were told to go to a different section, where we were processed through Immigration and customs and then had to register with the Red Cross.

After that we were isolated from our passengers and were taken in a caravan of vans to a very small hotel in the town of Gander. We had no idea where our passengers were going. The town of Gander has a population of 10,400 people. Red Cross told us that they were going to process about 10,500 passengers from all the airplanes that were forced into Gander. We were told to just relax at the hotel and wait for a call to go back to the airport, but not to expect that call for a while.

We found out the total scope of the terror back home only after getting to our hotel and turning on the TV, 24 hours after it all started. Meanwhile we enjoyed ourselves going around town discovering things and enjoying the hospitality. The people were so friendly and they just knew that we were the “Plane People.” We all had a great time until we got that call, 2 days later, on the 14th at 7 a.m. We made it to the airport by 8:30 a.m. and left for Atlanta at 12:30 p.m. arriving in Atlanta at about 4:30 p.m. (Gander is 1 hour and 30 minutes ahead of EST, yes!, 1 hour and 30 minutes.)

But that’s not what I wanted to tell you. What passengers told us was so uplifting and incredible and the timing couldn’t have been better. We found out that Gander and the surrounding small communities, within a 75 Kilometer radius, had closed all the high schools, meeting halls, lodges, and any other large gathering places. They converted all these facilities to a mass lodging area. Some had cots set up, some had mats with sleeping bags and pillows set up. ALL the high school students HAD to volunteer taking care of the “GUESTS.” Our 218 passengers ended up in a town called Lewisporte, about 45 Kilometers from Gander. There they were put in a high school. If any women wanted to be in a women-only facility, that was arranged. Families were kept together. All the elderly passengers were given no choice and were taken to private homes.

Remember that young pregnant lady, she was put up in a private home right across the street from a 24 hour Urgent Care type facility. There were DDS on call and they had both male and female nurses available and stayed with the crowd for the duration. Phone calls and emails to US and Europe were available for everyone once a day. During the days the passengers were given a choice of “Excursion” trips. Some people went on boat cruises of the lakes and harbors. Some went to see the local forests. Local bakeries stayed open to make fresh bread for the guests. Food was prepared by all the residents and brought to the school for those who elected to stay put. Others were driven to the eatery of their choice and fed. They were give tokens to go to the local Laundromat to wash their clothes, since their luggage was still on the aircraft. In other words every single need was met for those unfortunate travelers. Passengers were crying while telling us these stories.

After all that, they were delivered to the airport right on time and without a single one missing or late. All because the local Red Cross had all the information about the goings on back at Gander and knew which group needed to leave for the airport at what time. Absolutely incredible.

When passengers came on board, it was like they had been on a cruise. Everybody knew everybody else by their name. They were swapping stories of their stay, impressing each other with who had the better time. It was mind-boggling. Our flight back to Atlanta looked like a party flight. We simply stayed out of their way. The passengers had totally bonded and they

were calling each other by their first names, exchanging phone numbers, addresses, and email addresses.

And then a strange thing happened. One of our business class passengers approached me and asked if he could speak over the PA to his fellow passengers. We never, never, allow that. But something told me to get out of his way. I said “of course.” The gentleman picked up the PA and reminded everyone about what they had just gone through in the last few days. He reminded them of the hospitality they had received at the hands of total strangers. He further stated that he would like to do something in return for the good folks of the town of Lewisporte. He said he was going to set up a Trust Fund under the name of DELTA 15 (our flight number). The purpose of the trust fund is to provide a scholarship for high school student(s) of Lewisporte to help them go to college. He asked for donations of any amount from his fellow travelers.

When the paper with donations got back to us with the amounts, names, phone numbers and addresses, it totaled to $14.5K or about $20K Canadian. The gentleman who started all this turned out to be an MD from Virginia. He promised to match the donations and to start the administrative work on the scholarship. He also said that he would forward this proposal to Delta Corporate and ask them to donate as well.

Why, all of this? Just because some people in far away places were kind to some strangers, who happened to literally drop in among them? WHY NOT?

I wish we could get more of this kind of news.

polyGeek 2001, 9/11, letters

September 12, 2001

To catch you all up to date:

September 11, 2001 (thats 9-11 if you didn’t notice)

7:55 am – caught the NJT to Manhattan Penn. Station. 8:07 am – arrived in Manhatten ~8:20 am – caught “A” train subway to 59th Street. ~8:30 am – arrived at 59th Street Station (lower west corner of Central Park) 8:45 am – First plane crashes into WTC-2 (I was Rollerblading in Central Park) 8:55 am – Arrived at work. 9:00 am – Alerted by co-worker who was TeleCommuting that day of the events 9:03 am – World changed forever

It is now Wednesday, Sept. 12, 2:30 am and I just got home a little while ago. Hell of a day.

PS: anyone who knows of job openings for Web Developers/Web Video/Flash – that sort of thing please contact me. I’m currently looking to get the hell out of Dodge.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

[Note: writing is my therapy. I wrote this with my friends and family in mind as the audience. I feel better after composing this letter and I hope that my sharing it with you is in someway benifical in your own understading and coping with this tragedy.]

We all have persistent memories that are indelibly written in our minds. Sometimes it can be the most innocuous events that we can recall with vivid clarity; sometimes it is a moment of shock that we never forget. One commonality with most of these memories is that we are rarely aware, at the time, that these moments will be with us forever. They are either unnoticed or we are pre-occupied. Last night I had an experience that will be with me forever and I was acutely aware of it at the time.

As you all know I made it home last night. (I never thought I would be so happy to be in Newark.) My commute home last night – if you can call it that – was surreal in the extreme.

At about 1am I left the hospital and Rollerbladed to Central Park, my usual route.

There is an area of Central Park called “The Mall” that is my favorite area in all of New York. I go through there every day to and from work. It is a grove of Elm trees planted in four parallel rows with a wide paved path down the center. At one end is a small circular garden with statues of Christopher Columbus and Shakespeare and at the opposite end is a beautiful fountain next to a small lake. The elm trees form an almost complete canopy over the path which makes it a natural gathering area to hide from the summer sun. Nearby is a grandstand where they hold summer concerts.

One particular memory of The Mall was of a warm spring day. My niece and I were there RollerBlading and listening to a blues band playing. There were people everywhere but it wasn’t like a crowded, closed-in, feeling; it was more like a fun outdoor party. My thoughts of being around all these people – young and old, couples holding hands, children playing, people from all over the world – was that this is what civilization is really about.

Another memory of The Mall isn’t from a particular day but is a composite of my walks through there early in the mornings on my way to work. It’s cool and quite. There are usually a few people walking their dogs and a few joggers. It’s New York city before she has gotten up and had her typical double-espresso.

Tho these moments will be with me forever I know now that the first memory that will come to mind when I reflect on Central Park or New York will be from last night.

The Park was almost entirely empty. When I came to the Mall I stopped. Here, in the middle of one of the largest cities in the world during the biggest crises of its history, I was alone. I could see the lights from the surrounding buildings in the distance but the only sound I could here was the chirping of crickets; overhead the stars shown through breaks in the canopy of leaves; the breeze was cool.

I sat down.

Here I comfortably sat in this serenely beautiful, peaceful place and just a few miles south of me was hell on earth.

A crisis focuses the worlds attention and last night the axis of earth’s attention ran through the intersection of Chambers and Rector streets. It was as if I could feel the world’s focus like a ephemeral breeze blowing through me. I wished I could reflect the world’s anguish and shock back with my feelings of calmness and piece.

Personally I feel that I should have no pity for myself. I’ve lost nothing. People suffered through unspeakable horrors before meeting their end yesterday and it continues today. I watched TV. People lost loved-ones forever. I had to work late but recieved free food. Rescue workers got to pick up body parts and I got to Rollerblade down empty streets. Oh, it wasn’t all fun and games. We had to worry if we to were dead and just didn’t know it yet because we had inhaled some bio-chemical. No one drank from the faucet, that’s for sure. But as the horrors mounted those fears passed – at least for me. We focused on the events and prepared for a, hopeful, onslaught of survivors needing medical care. They never came. The trickle of survivors were handled by other hospitals closer to the scene. We did nothing.

No, I lost nothing at all. In fact I gained something. Now, when I see New York, that wonderful cynosure of civilization, I won’t just see glitz and glamour but I’ll also see gore and horror. The irony of it is that I feel fortunate to see it at all.

Dan 9.12.2001

polyGeek 9/11, letters, new york

January 10, 2000

Here are a few thoughts from my sojourn in Italy and trip to Paris

Many people think a state of anarchy would be an uncivilized, an every man for himself blood fest. Not true. Italy is an anarchy and they get along just fine. Oh, they do have a government but it’s has been exiled in Rome. As Lord Byron said, “There is, in fact, no law or government at all; and it is wonderful how well things go on without them.” You see Italy is really three countries: the North – which is very industrial and efficient, by Italian standards; the South which is agrarian, apathetic and unorganized and Rome (Roma) which doesn’t want to have anything to do with either.

(Things I miss about the United States: Britan has fish and chips, France has cheese and baguettes, Italy has cappuccino and cornetto – croissant – but only in America have I found penut butter and jelly. The day after arriving in Cary I had my legendary PnJ with chocolate-chip cookies for breakfast, lunch and dinner and then breakfast the next morn. I have since cut back to only two meals of PnJ a day.)

In America we have a two and a half party system – Republicans, Democrats and everyone else. In Italy they have fifty-plus parties and none of them have anything near a majority. Since WWII they have had 57 changes in leadership – the most in Europe. At present they don’t even have a real leader. (It is too complicated to explain and I don’t think even the politicians understand what is going on though that seems to be the case with politicians world wide.) [Pre-press note: Italy elected a new president a few days ago. He promised reform in the election process and to strengthen the economy. Translation: Nothing is going to change except that the economy will continue to head south.]

“How can anyone govern a nation that has two hundred and forty-six different kinds of cheese?” -Charles de Gaulle (1890-1970), French general, president. Quoted in: Newsweek (New York, 1 Oct. 1962).

[Things I'll miss about Europe: public transportation is fast, convenient and affordable.]

Italians are nuts about steps. I have never seen such elaborate steps leading up to so many overwhelmingly ordinary buildings. I think the reason they have such elaborate steps is this: they start out with grand plans for a stupendous building, they get about as far as the steps and realize it was a lot harder than they planned and finish up with some generic design. Either that or they run out of money and have to skimp on the rest of the building, probably a combination of the two. In fact Italy probably has more incomplete buildings than any other country in the West. Come to think of it I have not seen a new building since I’ve been here. New means that the crubling walls have been reinforced and painted. Here in America I think there is a law that you have to finish what you start or is that just a way of life. Whatever it is we should try to bottle it and export it to the rest of the world. The only thing America doesn’t finish is wars. If we did finish our wars then there would be more than double the current number of states and the countries of Western Europe would be called Ameropa.

“As a rule we develop a borrowed European idea forward, and . . . Europe develops a borrowed American idea backwards.” -Mark Twain

(I miss speed and space. In America everything happens much faster and on a much grander scale.)

In Rome (Roma) there is a square – it’s really a rectangle as are all the other “squares” – called “Campo De’ Fiori” or in English “Field of Flowers”. What this square is known for, other than flowers, is a statue of Giordano Bruno. Gio, as his friends called him, was a freethinker. More specifically, he was a freethinker during the late 16th century, long before freethinking had come into fashion. In fact he was so far ahead of his time that a group of men collectively know as “The Inquisition” decided to put him out of his. (Read it again and it will make since.) In keeping with the sentiment that “Every society honors its live conformists and its dead troublemakers” there is a statue of him on the very spot where he was burned to death all those years ago. Considering the nature of Gio’s demise and the Italian infatuation with fountians perhaps a more apposite monument could have been built.

[Walking. European cities are designed so that you can walk to just about everything you need. In l'Aquila I could by groceries, shoes, clothes, a cell phone and catch a movie all within a five minute walk from my apartment.]

One of the most heavenly sounds I have ever heard is that of the pipe organ being played in a cathedral. It is majestic, sublime . . . dare I say? yes I will, rapturous. Last year, during my cathedral tour in France, I was fortunate enough to be in Chartres when they played the organ. Words are insufficient to capture the moment. While I was in Rome one of the many cathedrals I visited was “St. Maria degli Angeli”. Inside is a pipe organ that is roughly three stories tall, very big as organs go. I noticed two men going inside it and thought, “Oh, glorious. I’ll get to hear it played.” As it turned out they were not organists, they were tuners. To be in a cathedral with granite floors, granite walls and a granite ceiling while the organ is being tuned is . . . well, enough to make one more appreciative of the melodious sounds of a catfight. It is the kind of sound that would be the perfect accompaniment to Roseanne Barr’s rendention of the American national anthem.

Hell hath no cacophony like an organ tuned.

What could be more simple than a traffic light – green means go, red means stop and yellow means decision time. The Italians interpretation of traffic signals is just slightly different than ours: green means go slowely and stop in the middle of the intersection; red is a suggestion to stop unless you are in a big hurry and yellow is just a different shade of green. Crosswalks also have a different meaning. The translation of the Italian word for crosswalk is “runway”, as in run-way-fast if your going to cross – “pedestrian” translates as “target”. If you want to get run over a crosswalk is the place to go. Much safer is a major intersection where the traffic is moving much slower.

(Communications. I lived in a house with no Internet, not even a phone and you have to pay for every minute your one the phone. No fixed price for local calls.)

In the U.S. “parking space” means “a place to park” in Italy it means “the place where you are parking”. They just make up parking spaces as the need arises – cathedral steps, sidewalks (where they exist), intersections (see above), crosswalks, ect.

The Roman Forum: you know those landscaping shops that have fountains, benches and statues for sell? Image one on a Sams Club scale. Now set off a real big bomb in the middle, maybe a few of them. That is what the Roman Forum looks like.

[Coffee breaks. In Italy everything is an excuse to take a break and have a coffee and pastry. All of the shops close from about 2:00 - 4:00 p.m. so that they can have a long lunch and a coffee, maybe even a nap.]

I believe this nation should commit itself to the goal of sending a soccer team to Europe and beating the shit out of them before this decade is out. There is no point in letting our children play such an inferior sport to the more traditional – football, basketball, hockey . . . and baseball (that hurt to say) if we aren’t going to beat the rest of the world at it.

(More than anything else I miss “The Big Show”. I can’t wait for them to go international so that they will have “Sports Center” in Britain and finally learn how to spell words that end with “er”.)

“Here in the U.S., culture is not that delicious panacea which we Europeans consume in a sacramental mental space and which has its own special columns in the newspapers- and in people’s minds. Culture is space, speed, cinema, technology. This culture is authentic, if anything can be said to be authentic.” -Jean Baudrillard (b. 1929), French semiologist. America, “Utopia Achieved” (1986; tr. 1988).

For you American males: do you realize that when you catch the gaze of another male you tacitly acknowledge him by noding your head? I don’t know why or even what this acknowledgement represents but it is ubiquitous, in America anyway. Europeans don’t do it, not that I ever noticed. It first occured to me during my stay in Swansea, Wales. That habitual yet subconscious act became a conscious avoidance because the European male would have no idea what I was doing.

While at the Louvre Franca and I saw the “Mona Lisa”. Franca looked at it for a second and then asked me what I thought of it. “Nice floor”, I replied. I know enough about art to know what I like and don’t like. What I don’t like most is portrait paintings followed closely by landscapes. That takes care of a large portion of the Louvre. It took us about 30 seconds to cover the Rembrandt exhibition – walked in looked at the room and walked right back out. Fortunately the Louvre has lots of sculptures – Greek, Roman, Egyptian, Assyrian, et al. – to occupy an afternoons perusing.

One last thing. For those of you who have not been to Cary, North Carolina let me describe the city this way: it is like a golf course with roads, malls and subdivisions. Every city street is lined with flowers and trees; the grass is cut; bushes pruned. If you can imagine a “pristine” city you can imagine Cary. To move from an average American city to Cary takes some getting used to; to move from a city that has streets that would be considered narrow allies, with almost no grass anywhere and where most of the buildings are more than 200 years old is a culture shock, big time.

Ciao . . . some habbits die hard, dan

Most every American who has not been to Europe thinks the United States is the greatest nation on earth. Those who have been to Europe know that the United States is the greatest. -Dan Osborn

polyGeek 2000, italy, letters

June 19, 1999

A funny thing happened yesterday while eating lunch at McDonalds with Franca – though it wasn’t funny at the time. First I must give you a bit of background.

Some people believe that the industrialized nations of Western Europe and America are taking advantage of the third world nations by loaning them money and making them pay it back. They would like for the well-to-do nations to forgive the debt and let them start over. In fact Italy has done just that. It forgave all the debts that third world countries owe to it. Why they did so I’m uncertain. It could have been out of kindness but I suspect that there were other reasons – aren’t there always? Here in Britain they decided to have a march through the banking area. While Franca was in the library I went on a photo expedition. I was unaware of this march until I arrived in the banking district. While a bunch of drug-takin’, job-needin’, welfare-livin’, uneducated, tattooed, middle-class wana-bees were blocking traffic and being a general nuisance to the eyes, ears and noses of decent workin’ people I was taking pictures of the splendid architecture of the area – pictures will be coming soon.

So, I went back to the library to collect Franca for lunch. Off we went to McDonalds. While we were downstairs looking at the pictures I had taken earlier we heard some banging and crashing coming from upstairs. One of the employees came over and told us to put the computer away and come with them into the back. “What’s going on,” I asked? “You know about the riot, right?” “You mean the march?” “It was a march. Now it’s a riot and their coming in.” Into the back we went. All of the employees took off their uniforms so that they wouldn’t be identified and therefore singled out in case there was violence. In the end all the rioters did was crash in the front windows, destroy the computers and cash registers – though they didn’t get any money – and make a mess. I told one of the cops that they should give the rioters a tear-gas enema. That elicited a chuckle and a nod.

That was our adventure of the day. Hopefully today will be a little quieter. Tomorrow we are going to the Science Museum which is rated as one of the best in the world and Friday after next we are going to see the “Power of Myth” show. It is put on by Lucas Arts and covers the mythological influences of the Arthurian legends, Wagner, etc in the Star Wars movies. It is only showing in Europe and it is just luck that I happen to be here in London while it is showing.

Hopefully I will be on American soil sometime the 3rd of July.

Ciao, dan

polyGeek 1999, letters, london, riot, wto

June 17, 1999

I had very high expectations of “The Matrix” so I was destined to be disappointed. I guess it was about 70% the movie I hoped it would be. One major area where the movie fell apart was with the motivation, which is common with SciFi. Why should the computers keep us around? Heat was the reason they gave in the movie but that is totally implausible. There are many other animals that would make a far greater power supply and not cost nearly as much overhead and most importantly be no threat to rebel. Basically, you don’t keep the most dangerous animal on earth alive just to harness its power. Also, what is the point of having a Matrix? Why not just leave the humans in a sort of coma all their lives?

It would be cheap of me to criticize without having a solution. Simple, the computers have in inferiority complex – don’t they always? They can do everything mankind can do a thousand-fold better but for one thing: that ineffable quality that makes mankind what it is – the ability to leap beyond logic. (We like to think that we can leap beyond logic but maybe it is more like falling so short as to come up with novel solutions to problems.) So, the reason the computers are keeping us around is to define that quality that we have and they lack. Perhaps they hope to produce a human that they can somehow join with, add to their matrix, to give them that missing component. This would explain why they keep humans around and why there is a messiah.

Btw, Franca liked it and would like to see it again just to get everything. One thing that she commented on, that I certainly agree with her about, is that the enunciation of the characters was, for the most part, perfect. It is hard for her to keep up sometimes with movies because of the language. Many actors don’t pay close attention to how they say their lines and the directors let it slip. I think it is attributable to the directors that they pay close attention to details.

Ciao for now, dan

polyGeek 1999, letters, london, matrix, movie review

June 11, 1999

Friends, family, countrymen . . .

Sometime around 9am Saturday the twelfth of June – tomorrow in now-time – Franca and I will walk out the front door of house sixty nine. It isn’t odd that we will be the lasts ones out. We are staying until the last day the dorms are open so that we may spend as much time together as possible. It is however odd that I should be the last one out for if you recall back in February I was planning to cut my stay in Swansea short and travel around Europe. I would say something about ‘the best laid plans’ but for fear of the obvious pun.

Franca and I have just returned from a short two day excursion to see the Roman Ruins of Bath England and then a very short trip – one and a half hours – to see Salisbury Cathedral. Bath was a resort city back when the Romans ruled southern England. I’m sure everyone knows about the Romans predilection for baths. Actually the Romans had a predilection for laziness. They were however masters at getting other people to do work for them. You can imagine that the Romans in England were a little put off by the weather. (I should tell you that the contemporary Romans – Italians – are still put off by the weather here in Briton.) When they discovered hot springs, or more likely discovered that the Celts had discovered hot springs, they evicted/plundered the area and built a bathhouse over the spring just like back home. When the Romans vacated the area the bathhouse fell into such disrepair as to become completely covered by earth. It wasn’t until sometime in the 1800s – I think – that they were rediscovered. Since then the city has adopted ancient Roman architecture for most of the city. Consequently a certain Italian filly I’m aquatinted with could almost picture herself back at home. She said that Bath most closely resembles Venice.

The main purpose in going to Salisbury was to see the cathedral and Stonehenge. Unfortunately, do to a miscalculation in bus schedules we only had an hour and a half to visit Salisbury. That was just enough time to take a rush tour of the cathedral but not nearly enough time to make it out to Stonehenge and back. Franca and I plan to take a day trip in the next few weeks to come back and see that most popular Druid clock.

“So, what’s up now?” you ask? I’ll tell you. On Saturday Franca and I will be going to London where we will be for about two weeks. She is doing her final thesis on the Irish Revolution and the House of Parliament in London has many books and documents that she needs to study. I will spend most of the days wandering around, writing, programming, taking photos and keeping my eyes open for job opportunities but I don’t have very high expectations. We will have four of five days before Franca flies back to Italy so we would like to go to Edinburgh. Afterward I will probably be headed back to the States – Oklahoma to be exact – around the 4-6th of July.

For the next few weeks in London I will have to visit cyber-cafés to do email. I don’t know how regular I will be so please be patient, or don’t be – it’s up to you.

The next email contains a few pictures I took in Bath. I hope you like them.

Love and happiness to all, Dan

Btw, even if there the Romans hadn’t left ruins of their bathing facilities Bath would still be appositely named do to the taste of its tap water.

polyGeek 1999, bath england, letters

March 11, 1999

Hi there,

I just returned from a four-day excursion to London. If you have been good, i.e. sending me emails, then you will get a post card, eventually.

I could tell you all about it but that would ruin the fun of seeing and reading about it on my webpage – I promise to work hard and try to finish it this week. Fortunately Franca has lots of essays to write so maybe I won’t be too distracted. Unfortunately, for both of us, just one stray pheromone from her is enough to send me into a frenzy of Caligulean proportions.

I should mention that it very entertaining to go for a few weeks without checking the news and then come to find out that the U.S. is at war. Oh well, it is probably spring cleaning time at the Pentagon. Most people just have a garage sale but the U.S. takes the Homer Simpson approach by throwing it over the fence and into the neighbor’s yard. The only difference is that instead of garbage it’s bombs and instead of a fence it’s the Atlantic Ocean.

I hope everyone enjoyed the most recent Christianized pagan holiday.

Best wishes for love and happiness to all, idano

polyGeek 1999, letters, london

February 12, 1999

Hello all,

For those of you who are not up to speed on the weather in Wales we have had some snow, about 6 inches worth. This is a once a decade type snow storm here. They usually only get a few inches every other year. (True to form the forecasters missed it again.) The Student Village, where I live, was a madhouse. Of course many of the British students have never seen this much snow but many of the Greeks seem to have never seen snow at all. Imagine groups of 50 – 100 students engaged in snowball fights. These groups would then start fighting each other until someone realized that it was a lot easier to hit their roommate ten-feet away than someone they don’t know fifty-feet away. A pitched snowball fight would quickly turn into a mêlée. For about two hours in the evening Hendrefoilan Student Village resembled Kossovo. While there were a few students using the snow to build most used it in a playful, yet inherently violent manner. As Arnold said in ‘Terminator 2′, “It’s in [our] nature to destroy each other.” Major bummer isn’t it?

The next day I went with my housemate Franca, and two of her friends who are visiting this week, on a hike. About halfway there the bus got stuck so we had to walk about four miles to the coast – under tree covered paths as the snow melted off. We then walked about three miles along the coast, where I had the experience of walking on a snow-covered beach, and then a couple miles back to the road where we caught a bus back to the village.

idano

polyGeek 1999, franca, letters, snow, swansea