No, Not Far

Trazzler following Ibn Battutah through Spain

2011-11-13T14:05:00.000+01:00

The Costa del Sol's concrete boredome costing you a bit?

Trazzler's collected 10 trips following the great Ibn Battutah's trips through the region. Shake off the fish and chip shops and dig a bit deeper here.

An Apple for the Teacher

2011-10-25T12:53:00.002+02:00

After a long break, blogging for El Pais once again. This time a 3 part series on the dismal future that lies ahead for learning in a climate where education is viewed as an expense rather than an investment.

The 1st installment goes into the labarynth that teachers must go through in order to actually get on with the system.

The 2nd is a look at schools that segregate by sex.

And the 3rd is a look at how nonthought and nonanswers have become the norm for two hours a week.

When Slippery Becomes Slimey

2011-05-26T10:27:00.000+02:00

The earth unexpectedly (for most that is) shook the other day in south-eastern Spain, bringing tragedy to the people of the lovely town of Lorca.

Corruption doesn't only exit in far off lands that end in -stan. A look at what could happen if it's allowed to grow, blogging in El Pais.

Spanish Revolution?

2011-05-23T21:18:00.003+02:00

Yesterday I walked up the hill leading to my polling station under a clear blue sky, a color I would later realize that had foreshadowed the colour of the electoral results that have carpeted this country from corner to corner...a resoundly conservative azul.

I'm the only foreigner in my voting area, or at least the only one with a right to do so who has decided to renounce their vote in their home country and vote here where we live. Once again, I was E 001...and the only one on the list.

I find Spanish polling stations a bit odd...there is a closeted area where one can vote in private but the overwhelming majority choose to do so at the election table, making their choice public, for all to see. That is, those who don't bring their little envelops from home that were previously mailed to them by their party of choice. All democratic I suppose...perhaps , like standing at a urinal, I'm just a bit shy in that respect.

While not a national election (foreign me can't vote in those), autonomous regions and municipalities were up for grabs yesterday and it looks like Spain is on its way to making the same curious decision that most of Europe has also made during this disasterous crisis...while navigating the stormy waters created by the financial system, best be in the hands of those that caused the problem in the first place I suppose.

The only way that I can make sense of this is by imagining myself in a situation where a deadly man-made virus has been released in a building...who better to be with? The men who created it of course! That said, it's an entirely different question when you wonder if they are willing to share the antedote with others.

Spaniards chose to rip off the band-aid quickly yesterday. Tired of the half measures taken by a reluctant, supposedly leftist party, they decided to rip it off quickly and to let the real hemorrhaging begin, bring on the next Cameronian revolution of social cuts. I can't imagine what will happen here when University costs triple or even quadruple here, Spaniards aren't notorious savers. Again, it wasn't a national election, but if the sky foreshadowed blue yesterday, next year's national election results look to be similar.

So where does this leave the #spanishrevolution that was briefly splashed across the headlines all over the world. The supposed revolution that blew across the Mediterranean and brought hope from Tunisia and Egypt. Spaniards were fed up, indignant at the lack of transparency in government, indignant about the hundreds of candidates that were being judicially investigated for corruption, indignant that banks who had received public money were now handing out gazillion euro bonuses....

Well I guess Spaniards as a whole weren't, only a loud and colourful few.

Few commentators have dug deep enough to get past the witty slogans and realize that this revolution was solely within the left. These were people who have always voted Socialist and who have woken up to the painful reality that, no matter how meaningful your ideals and ideas are, governments no longer have the power to make independent decisions. Zapatero's deer-in-the-headlights look the past 3 years has been because of this. It's the bond traders who decide, not the electorate.

The band-aid's been ripped off and now the coup de grace awaits in 2012. I guess I'll take a few trips to the free doctor while it lasts.

Spain or Portugal, does the coffee taste the same?

2011-05-06T18:48:00.000+02:00

The Shock Doctrine is oozing and has slimed Portugal...Are things so different over here right across the border?

Blogging again in El Pais.

A Nestorian Epiphany in El Pais

2011-05-03T10:20:00.001+02:00

A successful Chinese Buddhist businesswoman who professes her devotion to a 15th century crucifixtion figure gives birth to a Nestorian satori in my first piece blogging for El Pais. Of course, all framed within the slightly morbid context of the celebration here on the decidedly european Iberian peninsula of a man's death by torture so many years ago.

Even Dairy Queen's Dangerous!

2011-05-02T00:12:00.002+02:00

Middle of nowhere British Columbia, beware of bears...wolves...avalanches...

...and teen burgers.

Caution Picture #2

When did these appear?

CAREFUL! You just might...trip?

2011-04-25T18:28:00.000+02:00

Are children still constantly told to tie up their shoelaces? Or did that go out of fashion when 'Pull up your pants!' did? The latter warning used to seem more serious. That is of course until the current fashion craze (and that word has several meanings) consisting of offering the world to see that your underwear is indeed clean, made it redundant. Then again, the shoelace advice always seemed like a ridiculous warning to me, that is of course until I tripped.

That was back when I was 10.

I've since grown up and will presumably be passing on these nuggets of wisdom when my daughter takes her first steps in about a year's time.

But again, that will be advice given to a child.

Last summer I returned to the country of my birth, Canada, the place where I heard those warnings so long ago. It had been about 6 years since my last visit, 6 years that had taken me around the world, literally. Ever time I go back, I feel a little more removed, a little more distant, like a guy who shows up at a party dressed completely inappropriately. I find myself constantly asking myself, 'That's not how it used to be, is it?' It's been 20 years since I left.

Memory plays tricks and often paints the past in rose pastel, impressionistically blurring out the hard lines of things we might want to forget, but I simply don't remember such nannyism. I remembered asking friends and family six years ago if they had noticed the absurd crowding of their visual sphere with inane caution signs. The signs had probably crept into everyday life slowly but surely and no, they hadn't noticed.

But I had.

So this time I made a point to document them as we travelled around the country.

The 1st...watch your step taken to extremes!

Easter Redux

2011-04-17T11:00:00.013+02:00

The scent of incense, the boom of the drums and the rattle of the snares, pushy yet well dressed crowds, dolled up children trying to be pious, hooded penitents doing the same...

It's Easter once again here in Spain.

Click over for a look from my window.

Springing Spring

2011-03-22T10:31:00.008+01:00

Why does it seem that with every year, winter seems to get longer and longer? No matter how mild the year, as with this past winter here in Extremadura, the dark days of the 'other' equinox drag on longer than your 10th grade math teacher droning on about algebra. I even sometimes find myself wishing that global warming would speed up.

But thankfully spring is in full swing here in Caceres, so much so that its usual intense but brief appearance may even be waning towards summer, with temperatures well into the 20's this week. The jasmine in my patio is heady and I find myself spending less and less time indoors. Soon the boom boom of the droning Semana Santa drums will echo along the millenial walls here in the Old Town and the saints will come out for their yearly airing, accompanied of course by their eerie, hooded retinue.

I came across these photos the other day on the Guardian, scenes of another spring equinox celebration, one that runs from Turkey to China, Nowruz. The picture below reminds me of a particularly curious conversation I had with a student of mine in Azerbaijan who had recently 'found religion' as it were.

After regaling me with respun words learned at the Saudi funded mosque regarding the wonders of a purer islam than that which could be found at the Iranian funded house of worship down the street, he then moved onto the Novruz celebration that was about to take place there in Baku. He filled me in on the delightfully pagan traditions of growing fresh green wheat sprouts on every kitchen table and of course, the cleansing jump over the fire seen below.

I didn't have the heart to ask him what his Wahabi wiseman thought of that...

A Tripoli a world away from now

2011-03-04T19:38:00.000+01:00

I look down and check the time on my Ghaddafi watch and remember walks through the old town in Tripoli, a world and a war away from the hell that it must be now.

Click over to Trazzler trip in the old medina.

A different time from now.

Tripping Through the Okanagan

2011-03-03T19:02:00.004+01:00

Helmcken falls, Wells Grey Provincial Park, B.C

I've been working with the great people over at Trazzler again, this time trapsing through the beautiful Okanagan valley in southern British Colombia. 10 trips, 10 different things to do while you pinch yourself and wonder if you really are in the frozen Great White North. OK...a few are not exactly in the valley, but if you're in the neighbourhood...well...

First Stop

- Mexican food in Oroville, Washington

- Floating the channel in Penticton, B.C

- Then a bit of Iron Man

- Desserting on some ancient culture in Osoyoos, British Colombia

- Inland Sea Monsters on Rattlesnake Island, B.C!!!

- Picking up a bit of fresh fruit in O.K Falls

- Your own 'private' beach in Summerland, B.C

- Getting some skiing in Apex

- Houseboating in the houseboat capital in Sicamoose, B.C

- Making Niagra seem minature in Wells Grey Provincial park near Clearwater, B.C

III Premio de Periodismo Ciudad de Cáceres Fundación Mercedes Calles y Carlos Ballestero

2011-02-17T00:56:00.004+01:00

“Travel, set out and head for pastures new.

Life tastes richer when you've road-worn feet.

No water that stagnates is fit to drink

for only that which flows is truly sweet.” - imam Al-Shafi

and travel I have...20 years ago I set out from a frozen, snowy place somewhere near the top of the world. I happened to be born in the last city of any real size in, what some people have called, the New World. A place where the fabled Alaskan highway starts and the true great north opens up and skids across the tundra and ice all the way to the North Pole. It then took me 2 decades of wandering to come across those words written 12 centuries ago by Imam Al-Shafi writing in a desert of sand instead of snow, but the moment I read them, I realized that at least for me, they were as true as the laws of gravity that cause sweet water to flow.

...And so I started my acceptance speech in the 15th century place just up the hill from my Almohad refuge here in Caceres. The foundation that I walk by everyday was the scene of the ceremony, bigwigs a plenty and it even looked like I was wearing one. One of the national newspapers even picked up the news item in our usually overlooked forest of dehesas.

Many thanks to those at the foundation, I can truly say it was a pleasure.

Two Places, 2 Different Worlds

2010-12-17T21:46:00.004+01:00

National Geographic's photography contest 2010

Two places...same world...only just

Pakistan and...

Saskatchewan

Battuta's Least Known Journey

2010-10-10T10:34:00.003+02:00

This plaque on the church is about the only evidence you'll find of Battuta's visit in the town of Coin.

Think Marco Polo was the world's greatest traveler? If you do, it's because you haven't read Ibn Battuta. For whatever reason, be they ethnocentric prejudices, islamophobia or the simple fact that Polo had better PR, Ibn Battuta's epic 14th century journey that took him from Tangier to China and back remains relatively unknown to most.

And within this obscurity lies his least known sojourn, his jihad to the Iberian peninsula in today's Spain. Follow his footsteps in a piece published in Dubai's Khaleej Times.

Mogadishu Style Shark Fin Soup

2010-09-29T10:39:00.000+02:00

Photographer: Feisal Omar/Reuters

On it's way to Shanghai, or have the Somalis developed a taste for shark fin soup too?

photographs of spain

2010-09-19T07:20:00.002+02:00

One of the many lovely pictures of Spain found here.

Seen From the Road: Rhodes, Greece

2010-09-14T23:31:00.001+02:00

Seen inside the citadel/city built by the Templars, now haunt of cruise-goers stretching their legs and dining ashore.

Granada...in English and German

2010-08-28T19:58:00.002+02:00

A walk through the Albaycin in Granada

A look at the new mosque that has been built

A reflection on the concern it's caused

A way around conflict

In both English and German in DW-WORLD's Qantara magazine.

Trazzler Writing Contest

2010-08-09T23:05:00.005+02:00

One of the internet sites that I have been writing for has been running some great contests as of late. Click over here to Writing Contests for more details...you never know, a new job or a few nights in a Fairmont hotel may await!

A Different Iran

2010-07-14T18:39:00.000+02:00

One of the strongest memories I have of Iran is standing outside a regular neighourhood mosque covered in the black mourning flags that are so typical there. Decades of negative imagery on T.V made my wife and I unsure about entering the courtyard. Finally we ventured in and ended up parting ways. Suddenly I heard a commotion only to turn around and see my wife engulfed by around 40 women, all curious as to where she was from...friendliness and hospitality that we were to encounter wherever we went.

At every turn we found things that ran against the facile stereotype propagated outside its borders.

Another shock were the fashionistas in northern Tehran, words would be hard to describe it but perhaps paintings can.

I've just come across this wonderful young artist from that huge city at the foot of the mountains whose paintings show that world. Many may have heard of Saghar Daeeri, but if you haven't, definitely click over for more.

Walking to Hornachos

2010-07-11T09:50:00.000+02:00

10kms to go

Springtime outside Hornachos, Extremadura, Spain.

A Walk in Istanbul

2010-07-06T09:47:00.008+02:00

I took a walk awhile ago with my Couchsurfing host, now friend, Oya. We started in the Istanbul of the guidebooks and ended up in the Istanbul of her childhood. A walk that took us from the tank tops of Eminonou to the hiijabs and niquabs in Fatih, with a short detour to see the black robes through the last remaining churches in Fener. Needless to say which was more interesting, the guidebook loses once again. Published in Singapore in The Straits Times.

La Barrosa

2010-06-14T23:10:00.001+02:00

8kms of beach, just under 30º and no one else in sight.

It was a good weekend.

The Curse of Too Much

2010-06-07T14:20:00.010+02:00

More than 20 centuries ago, Aristotle wrote that ethics and therefore happiness lie somewhere in the middle of extremes...where that somewhere exactly is has been debated since his Nicomachean Ethics came out, but few people would dispute that, to a certain extent, some truth lies in his premise.

The Iberian peninsula and Spain in particular has literally been the crossroads of Europe for time immemorial. From prehistoric man fleeing the advancing glaciers during the last ice age to the 8th century Arabs and Berbers crossing the straight of Gibraltar from Africa and now the millions of Nordic Europeans who today flee the stress, gloom and rain endemic to their homelands.

This movement of peoples has obviously left its mark on the land. Drive 100kms from here and you find stone age tombs buried under Roman ruins. Arabic castles dot the mountaintops and Visigoth churches lie lost in age old olive groves and we can't forget the scenic German men wearing socks and sandals.

The fact that the Spanish civil war was only a trial run for the Nazis and their fascist allies also means that Spain did not suffer the massive destruction that both France and Germany endured when fighting the World Wars.

All of this means that at every turn it can seem that there are castles clinging to each cliff side and even more beautiful medieval churches lording over every whitewashed village.

It also means that there is too much to keep up. A closer look at those castles shows that some are indeed made of sand and are crumbling. Step closer to that fantastic church and notice the growing cracks that spider up the bell tower. There is just too much to keep up.

And here lies the problem, in a country so dependent on tourism, just how much money should be spent on conservation and should that money only be spent along the coast where 97% of all the tourists head? An even deeper question could be asked, are we conserving for the tourists' benefit, or for history's sake?

This problem has stuck very close to home recently, uncomfortably close in fact. Here in my refuge in the shadow of the Almohad-era wall in Caceres a crime against Spain and the world's patrimony is being committed, and what's worse...it seems the authorities either could care less or are unable to act.

Just down the street from me, the Adarve del Cristo, lies an abandoned 12th century tower. Years ago when survival was at the forefront and conservation in the background, the tower was converted into a dwelling. For years it served a second life but has now been abandoned for years. The roof that once sheltered families now lies half caved in and even has cacti growing from the tiles.

Its abandoned state was sad enough, but over the Easter celebrations, local junkies decided to break down the door and use the place as a shooting den. Since then, homeless people and scrap dealers have been stripping the building of anything valuable and in the process damaging valuable archaeological remains, a modern day sacking. Repeated calls to the police lead to nothing, for under Spanish law they are powerless to act without an order from the owner. Articles and pleas in the local newspapers have also led to nothing as the tower dies a slow and painful death with its new tenants.

The disinterest and inaction only makes me wonder, is there a curse of too much?