Peter Pan Flies

Irony

noreply@blogger.com (Peter Pan) — Sun, 29 Jul 2012 06:52:00 +0200

Our tour guide warned about the emotional draw of this place, “many have cried and some quickly rushed outside because they could not bear the mere thought of being there.” We got out of our cool and comfortable van into the blistering heat of Stone Town, the world heritage site of Zanzibar, and walked a hundred meters to our first destination.

We arrived at an old building of just two floors. The sign outside (in photo) announced ‘Former Slave Market Site’ sending me shivers. “What’s inside?” I thought ducking my head at the entrance that led to shiny stone steps down to the first floor which was an art gallery catering to tourists like us and hosting local artists who mostly painted on canvas with subjects ranging from still life to landscapes.

We were led to the basement through dark, dingy, narrow, and circuitous alleys that brought us to what was once the herding area of slaves. “Zanzibar was the center of the slave trade in East Africa in the mid-19^th century,” according to our travel guide.

While listening further to history, we had to sit on stone slabs around a room of 25 square meters with a ceiling height of just five feet. There weren’t any windows but simply small slits of space on the walls of very hard stone. Without ventilation, we exerted effort while breathing made even more difficult by the pervasive stench.

We learned that the whole perimeter held at least fifty slaves who were shackled to each other. Apparently, they were sold in bunches. The tide from the nearby sea would occasionally fill this tiny enclave. Disease and deaths resulted from the miserable living environment.

Zanzibar today enjoys a healthy rate of tourist arrivals especially with the availability of Five-Star resort complexes frequented by citizens of nations who once colonized this island. Until today the colonization continues and who knows, the covert forms of slavery as well.

Apple Juice

noreply@blogger.com (Peter Pan) — Sun, 25 Mar 2012 09:39:00 +0200

In my last trip, I had the luxury of choosing which airline to fly with. That's because not one among my favorites flies to my famed (?) destination. Hence, no frequent flyer credits despite the very long haul. I settled for a well-known carrier with global awards and distinctions.

Only to find out that they did not have any apple juice with them! What? Is this a religious thing?

That's right, I was not being a wimpy by asking for apple juice but I suffered from an unusual bout of hyperacidity just before boarding and throughout the sequence of flights. I had also discovered sometime ago that apple juice calms down the stomach acids unlike orange or tomato juices which I had been offered as substitutes.

It is not fun knowing that hyperacidity could be triggered anytime by the usual suspects in the food and drinks that you take. Those who have and had been there would know how unpleasant it feels -- air inside, occasional pain, gurgles, etc. Sure modern medication can stamp out the acids over time but one gets wary of taking alcohol and spicy food afterwards.

To many, it may only sound as if conscious eating habits are the way out of it but what about the pressures of life which are triggers just the same. I can still take alcohol but won't know what levels may be tolerated and that definitely rules out binge drinking. Oh!

Apple juice is thankfully okay.

Downshifting

noreply@blogger.com (Peter Pan) — Sun, 26 Feb 2012 07:09:00 +0100

Sounds of an aircraft's engine whirring down to pause and then to stop.

The first time I came across this book, I thought it was for highly-stressed individuals like myself -- who complain most of the time! I could have adopted its recommendations and led a different life than what I now have but alas, it was easier to say than do. However, the book is a valuable template for anyone seriously wanting a change in his life's ecosystems.

It is an ideal and more so a goal to set one's self against.

Not for lack of any attempts but stepping back from the frenzy of career battles and of home struggles is not in my cards presently [No, I did not consult a geomancer like some of my friends do] even if this is a tempting value proposition. I realize that there is an alternative and hence steeled myself to building an immune system ready to smother the pathogens associated with stress, anxiety, sickness, etc.

I have posted an image of the book in case anyone might be interested.

Ready for another week?

Back In Business

noreply@blogger.com (Peter Pan) — Sun, 19 Feb 2012 15:45:00 +0100

Eight months from my last post! Yes, I have been irresponsible and for that matter I admire friends like Nyl and Clyde who unabashedly announce short-term periods of rest from their blogspaces. I missed my own which I have always considered an opportunity for expression and sharing. It is trite but just the same, apologies.

If I hadn't been able to populate this blog, I have been reading those of others from my phone which I found very convenient. Found many of old friends on Twitter and kept updated with their daily chatter.

Entrance to Melbourne Park's Tennis Matches

The year began with my quest to complete visits to all tennis grand slam championship venues. This time, it was at the Australian Open where I was fortunate to have stayed for an entire week and seen some of today's sports heroes in the flesh. It was again an opportune moment similar to visits to Wimbledon and Roland Garros which coincided with official duties. Lucky indeed as I managed to snag last minute tickets for centre court matches. It was summer in Oz, Melbourne was too hot for most, with allergens flying through the air even around court side . Wham, I mean one, more to go -- the US Open at Flushing Meadows in NYC. Later this year? Someday, I might write about comparisons among venues.

To fans, the sound of rackets hitting balls was like listening to one's favorite tune and singing to it at the same time. I wasn't an exception. Only the interruptions of players' shrieks and grunts [read Sharapova's] disturbed the serene atmosphere where nobody moves or utters a sound until a natural break in the game. Some players I had seen and talked to at breakfast but they were the younger aspiring ones than those seeded. The future Rafas?

Next stop. Back in cold, cold London. Slept most of the way, nothing like reclining 180 degrees.

Returned to London in the dead of winter [end of Jan] where my colleagues said I had brought the bitter cold with me. Apparently, it was mildly pleasant until the day I arrived. Huh! I was actually fine with negative temperatures except that my strides had to be long and fast to get from place to place. No leisurely shopping, no hovering outside street cafes -- unless you'd like to court a nasty cold. Indoors was fine all the time. Surprisingly I was just okay with this quick five-day trip; no sadness about missing visits to other cities. Managed to take off hours just before the snow engulfed most of Europe.

After a week, I took the courage to revisit my blog. Peter is here.

Pride

noreply@blogger.com (Peter Pan) — Sat, 9 Jul 2011 18:40:00 +0200

It is a matter of getting used to long-hauls. In a month's time, I was back in Europe arriving in London on a cold and rainy Summer evening reminding me that this is the place where all four seasons take place in a day. The next morning and setting all business aside, I hied off to Wimbledon where the annual tennis tournament was teeing off the following day. Hey, the All England Lawn Tennis Club is not anywhere around the centre of town. For those interested in visiting, a tube or train trip from London will take one to Wimbledon and a taxi ride from the train station is the best transport to the tennis courts which are a huge and complex affair. Very impressive and worthy of consideration as host of one of the world's grandslam tennis events.

Entrance to the All-England Lawn Tennis Club

Despite being in London for a week, I could not watch any of the matches as business meetings in London did not allow. I knew however that tickets have long been sold out through internet bookings which were raffled off to lucky buyers [I believe this is the same procedure for next year's Olympics - in London too]. It would have been my pleasure sitting in the stands along with famous celebs like Rory McIlroy. I could have stayed another couple of days or even a week just to watch a match or two and perhaps chance on any of the world's top four. Now, why did I not plan for that [But I already knew as early as January that I was visiting London!].

At the end of seven days, I left the moody London weather and took an early flight from Healthrow to Charles de Gaulle. I had enough of meetings. As usual, my mood completely changed soon as I set foot on the most chaotic airport of Europe. The sun was bright and the weather was hot [not just warm]. Why did I not take the Eurostar? I had wanted to really if only for the reason that I would be disembarking right in the centre of the City and could take one metro ride to my hotel. But the Eurostar's price had for the last couple of years been prohibitive compared to flying. I even got an award-flight out of frequent flyer miles. Now you know that this leg of my trip was not company-paid.

The brightest spot of this trip was witnessing the Paris Gay Pride march held last June 25. As early as 2pm, Boulevard Montparnasse teemed with marchers in street clothes and costumed, balloons, 'pride' flags, ten-wheeled trucks, and media fotogs and satellite dishes. Dance music blared from the trucks representing various associations joining the march. The composition of marchers was multi-faceted: political [e.g.,Youth of the Socialist Party, ActUp, Amnesty International], religious [e.g., Jews and Catholics], labour [e.g., police and fire men], social [e.g., parents of lesbians and gays, owners of bars], etc.

That day was significant because New York's state legislature had coincidentally approved the proposed legislation on same-sex marriage. On the other hand and as a major blow to the country's human rights record, the Assemblee National of France disapproved the same proposal in early June. Predictably, all Socialists voted in its favour but assemblymen from Nicolas Sarkozy's conservative party which held the majority in parliament thumbed it down. The theme of this year's march was therefore a warning to all politicians that next year's presidential elections would be a referendum on a candidate's public position in regard to this issue.

Hundreds of thousands attended the march which went all the way to the Bastille, their symbol of 'liberte, egalite, fratenite". While it was partying all over the bars and restos in the Marais, Chatelet, and around Hotel de Ville in the evening, the conversation was highly political converging on ways of attaining victory for their cause next year.

REVER

noreply@blogger.com (Peter Pan) — Sun, 12 Jun 2011 07:30:00 +0200

Dream on. Everytime I come here, the memory of that wish instantly pops up. It was ma cherie who spoke of it once as we walked down that street admiring the well-preserved architecture, intently listening to conversation and laughter from guests of an ongoing party upstairs, impressed with the huge windows that opened into small verandas allowing the sultry summer air in the salon. "We could own one of these apartments", came from cherie's. My silent rejoinder, 'indeed'. That dream was expressed a couple of years ago and is revived every year, each time I go around this fabled quartier in this City.

Once, I walked into a real estate seller's office just at the corner and asked for their catalogue. It was fun as much as it was an exercise in making choices based on location, facilities, and price. Now, if only we had the money. . . . Someday. And I hope soon.

Coming from cold weather, I felt my spirits soar (as always) while watching the shimmer of endless lights below just as the plane approached the City. Another deja vu. It was the middle of the last month of Spring then but the air seemed like Summer. May and September have been my favorite months here because of the beautiful weather and the endless outdoor activities possible without having to endure the extremes of sometimes the unbearable heat or the bitter cold. The Roland Garros tournament is held at this time.

I've succeeded in evading Winter no matter the frequent requests of ma cherie for us to spend Christmas here. But it may not be a bad idea after all. Summer would have been in full bloom by the time I got back at the end of June but it has always been our favorite time of returning.

Ogle

noreply@blogger.com (Peter Pan) — Sat, 14 May 2011 09:40:00 +0200

Where. One of our friends once asked ma cherie where in the world to go when looking for beautiful boys. Without thinking, he spewed 'Hungary'. It was my belief that his recommendation was based on the exoticism or mystery resting on former Communist states much more so those of once Russian republics. The fact that the Bel-Ami outdoor [read forest and running rivers] shoots are held in Hungary, also the locus of actor recruitment for these money spinning films, may have contributed to the idea.

In a year's time, I was back for my second visit to Budapest which enabled me to validate ma cherie's statement and look at the local citizens up close. Yes, there were pretty guys in all public venues [trains, coffee shops, shopping centers, even hospitals] and they could actually pass for movie actors in Bel-Ami or in the Hungarian movie industry if there is one. But. These boys looked like they came from a single race [read white] unlike the products of mixed [African, Asian, Latino] races that abound in cosmopolitan cities of Europe as Paris, London, or Amsterdam. This observation led me to hypothesize that there might be undertones of racism which scared me once in Berlin or of simple disdain for peoples who are not Caucasian in appearance or origin.

As I stayed at a busy branded hotel in the city's center catering to many tourists, I had a perfect laboratory for proving my investigation. Comparing the tone of speech and body language in the interaction between front office staff and guests of different nationalities led me to conclude that there is a built-in attitude reserved for customers of different races. I could have been a victim of discrimination myself had I not been aware and prepared for confrontations.

Everyday, I would take a 30-minute trip consisting of a train-bus combination and noticed that despite the congestion inside the transport, the passengers would stare at those who don't look like them and I found very few of non-whites. They didn't smile as easily and there were only two occasions of friendliness that I came across: a young mother who responded to my inquiry on directions and an old woman who volunteered information when she noticed my perplexity while looking at a tram route map. Hotel personnel who would have been trained on fine hospitality did not flash those dazzling smiles no matter how insincere but were versed on the language of 'how are you doing today' or 'I hope you enjoyed dinner'.

Hungary's Parliament building

Gothic and rococo architecture shows the beauty of a country struggling to remain afloat with budget cuts so as not to follow the Greece-Ireland-Portugal example. It has opened up to the West [especially the USA] but may have a long ways to go in accepting Asia. Their transport system is wonderful -- trains, trams, and buses are punctual and frequent; clean and orderly -- although their underground terminals may need sprucing up. The airport is of world class. It appears that peace and order are not a problem in the capital. The suburbs are homey, typically of Europe.

There are reasons to visit and not-to. Are the boys/guys worth the visit? As if that were the purpose of my own visit. Yes, they are pretty and different. But do you want a date with someone whom you can't really talk to? The Bel-Ami films are always dubbed or subtitled to appeal internationally but interpreters shouldn't be brought along on dates. How does dating someone of another tongue actually work? Will that lead to sex just as well? Trying that out in Hungary may be uninspiring because their language is off-kilter to English and does take a while to learn. Takers?

Careful

noreply@blogger.com (Peter Pan) — Wed, 13 Apr 2011 15:25:00 +0200

Alert. While rummaging through old stocks at home, I accidentally dropped a mercurial thermometer releasing the beautiful element into the floor. Panic. Instinct told me to gather the quicksilver with a plastic pan and dispose of it in the trash bin. That alas was the wrong way to deal with the situation.

Using paper or a dropper, I should have collected the spilled mercury and kept it in a sealed bottle and then disposed of it through some hazardous waste system somewhere. With what I did, the mercury had split in very tiny droplets and released toxic gas to which myself and others inside the house would have been exposed. At that point, there wasn't a way of rolling back time and the process. I have been caught with ignorance and subjected all of us to much health risks.

Suddenly I remembered this news story about a school whose freshman high students played around with a beaker filled with the chemical during a science class. As a result, around 80 students were exposed and some of them had to be hospitalized due to symptoms of contamination. The school had been shut down as the toxicity level within had gone beyond tolerable levels. The school would have eventually resumed operations months later after having been certified clean.

Apparently, exposure can to lead to toxic proportions and may affect primarily the nervous system. As in the case of one student from this school, I learned that the poor kid who is now in college has been suffering from chronic fever and tremors thereby affecting his entire life.

To deal with and settle the issue, I would have to submit myself and others at home to some test that will determine the mercury content in our bloodstream. It is yet unclear at this point how we could determine the toxicity level, if any, inside our house.

May all of you be aware and safe.

Danger

noreply@blogger.com (Peter Pan) — Sat, 9 Apr 2011 08:16:00 +0200

Reality. When my colleague from China announced that she had contracted tuberculosis, I realized that because we pursue similar work activities around a region of the world I am just as vulnerable as she was. My immediate thought was that she may have been easily exposed during her flights. A simple cough or sneeze from a seatmate is a timebomb as droplets of potential TB bacteria circulate through the cabin into the clueless mass of passengers. Yes, travel is a lethal vector in mankind's health misfortunes.

A couple of years back, I felt invulnerable by not wanting to wear face masks in planes and in airports even when the SARS virus raged. That epidemic I know was taken very seriously not only by airport authorities but also by passengers themselves. At its height, I boarded a plane from Charles de Gaulle and pleasantly found the flight which is usually overbooked to have been less than half-filled. Despite that, I was not bumped into the next higher class.

Back home, my route at around 6pm takes me through a major street with hovels of videoke joints where retinues of young women front these establishments serving beer and barbecued pork. Working class gentlemen are among regular customers. I am nearly certain that on lucid moments with beer in hand and a tune to beat, these men suddenly kiss their women-hostesses on lips, not the dry kind though. A fertile ground for TB infection. Whether all these women are carriers or get infected by their clients is not an issue anymore in the same way that these workers are supposedly certified by the local health authorities. As TB is a public health problem, I do not think that preventive measures are easy to institutionalize particularly when they threaten livelihood and the economy.

My colleague is now well after a long regimen of treatment with what she called multi-drugs daily. She and I live in this part of Asia where according to statistics about a third of the population is infected with tuberculosis. Because it is a disease of poverty, TB is difficult to stem and much less a problem in treatment as compliance has always been unenforceable with daily and lengthy dosages not to mention the body's resistance to the drugs.

I do not have a choice but be exposed to this danger which could however be managed. What I know is that the threat is real , the disease curable, early recognition key, and prevention essential.

After a long while (haven't had any last month), I posted this not-so entertaining item but thought it may be relevent today from following the blogs I had.

Deliciousness

noreply@blogger.com (Peter Pan) — Sat, 12 Feb 2011 11:59:00 +0100

Whaaaa. Due to the uncomfortably freezing weather, we had to skip and hop on the way to the nearest tube station heading for the studios somewhere near the Strand to witness the shoot of an episode of Nigella Lawson's television show. Within the BBC maze, we found our way to a pretty large studio barn where she was decked in a bright pink pant suit standing beneath a flood light warming herself while chatting with an aide as the production team attended to finishing touches for a spring set. I previously held the view that celebrities like her might be a mere product of media sensation and I therefore adopted a cautious appreciation of their pronounced competencies.

That afternoon however transformed my personal beliefs about Nigella. There wasn't any sugar-coating around the lady. The episode she shot was on typical desserts and despite the unnatural environment of a studio set, I was ready to grab the first dish out of camera view. I was convinced that she knew every part of what she did and acted on. There are many others out there who would probably know how to prepare the same dishes (and perhaps with better taste) but Nigella was something else. She came to the medium fully qualified with her ability to communicate effectively the content of her craft; in her ambiiton to infect the audience with the desire for a unique gastronomic experience out of what may be considered as ordinary food fare available in our cupboards or from the local markets.

Best of all was a comment from a colleague, "watching Nigella is like watching soft-porn. It is just too powerful". Watch her on youtube and see for yourself why.

Fortunately just like Jamie Oliver, Nigella does not work from or even manage a restaurant as that would translate to an overflow crowd every evening with reservations extending into three years. With husbands calling in the reservations! Now that El Bulli is changing into a laboratory of gastronomy after July, it had to close all reservations as early as a year ago. Where can we go to? Bobby Chinn has a resto in Hanoi and Kylie Kwong has one in Australia.

Gastronomy has opened up in the last decade proving that the world is indeed a small place as far as food is concerned. I wouldn't be surprised if this would be the next frontier of battle: food scarcity (not new!), world domination through cuisine, trafficking of spices and herbs, currency pegging to essential food commodities. Therefore, power to whoever wields the values (e.g., quality, quantity, pornography) behind food.

Metal or Golden Rabbit?

noreply@blogger.com (Peter Pan) — Fri, 4 Feb 2011 07:54:00 +0100

Breather? Kung Hei Fat Choi. Heard on the radio that the 'Year of the Rabbit' allows us to 'calm our nerves'. It is then a period of consolidation and resolutions. I'd like that. I've been personally told by the equivalent of a Chinese astrologer that it is a 'bright' year for romance and lucky for marriage and advised to appreciate the full moon from my garden in order to be especially lucky. He pointed out that my birthday this year fell on a new moon [as the Chinese year always begins].

What a promise!

With that, the week-long and violent uprising in Egypt should swiftly come to a reasonable conclusion. Saw on tv that Obama told Mubarak to "go" already and wondered whether that's the rabbit year in action. There should be less of natural calamities as the storm in the US northeast just raged and left, part of Queensland in Oz had been devastated by a similar weather quirk although La Nina is apparently in the cards this year. Something to watch and hold the rabbit to account.

Have you looked into how you and your own animal sign tangles with the rabbit's? It could be an interesting exercise if only to learn how accurate these predictions get to. I find it fascinating because astrology is borne out of observing planetary influences on people's birth charts and hence lives. For instance, it is said that Saturn has a very strong influence on my birth sign. From time to time, the planet Mercury they say goes into 'retrograde' meaning various means of communication could go haywire leading to confusion and misunderstanding. This latter I've observed to be real.

_________________________________

On another matter, yes, I've been unreliable with posts to this Blog. Apologies. I have however been reading posts of the 'Citizens of Never Land' and thoroughly enjoyed the brazen and oftentimes humorous content. All the best to us in this 'Year of the Rabbit'.

Expectations

noreply@blogger.com (Peter Pan) — Tue, 4 Jan 2011 17:16:00 +0100

Bright and light -- that's what I'd like my year to be and in order to illustrate the quest I chose the photograph on the right that depicts these feelings through a sprig of colours on growing plants and playful feline mischief. A New Year has begun but is it really new or simply a continuation of the previous one. If the latter, then a new year is simply a marker of time akin to a calendar or even a clock and therefore never an instrument of change in life and society. If so, then all this talk about a new year ushering in new hopes is simply a euphemism. Would bright and light be a toss-up?

In reality and in my life, there is unfinished business from last year and has to be pursued and then completed this year much in the same way as the usual business plan bound by actions and timelines. At my disposal, I have expectations of what will happen this year following patterns of previous years. For instance, I already know the number and destinations of overseas travel that I shall undertake in the first six months. Can I change the pattern of events, their chronology, their content, their purpose -- if only to prove that expectations could be turned into surprises or that they could be manipulated. That will be an exciting proposition but the possibility may depend on the desired effect and on other individuals.

Resolutions alight on the turf of the new year. If this isn’t a fad, why should they be raised only at the beginning of the year or am I unaware that this is as well a practice on Valentine’s Day or during Lent. And why not. Or why not evolve resolutions throughout the year. Do we need a timeline of twelve months or is it the containment within a finite twelve-month period that matters when committing to the attainment of specific goals.

Should I view this year as a natural consequence of last year’s, I don’t see how 2011 could be light BUT it may be bright and even brighter than before. A bright expectation. If I needed to tweak that expectation, I have many options BUT why should I want it not to be bright. For it to be light as I had wished, I have accepted that it is in the work-life balance where manipulation should take place. This is real change outside the character of continuation and can be made more specific with time-bound resolutions. But WHY do I want the year to be bright and light in my life. A pertinent question!

What do you want your life this year to be like?

Happy New Year, friends.

A Wish, A Note of Thanks

noreply@blogger.com (Peter Pan) — Fri, 24 Dec 2010 15:17:00 +0100

JINGLE. It is that evening when we typically await Santa Claus with his bag of goodies and tonight I am among those keeping vigil and listening to the patter of reindeer hoofs on our roof. For this one fleeting Christmas eve, I am making myself hostage to the childhood tradition of hanging a sock by a limb on the tinsel tree hoping that the wish contained in it would be telegraphed to Santa and eventually granted. My feelings are beyond excitement; they are almost pleading for Santa's bag bearing the gift I've asked for.

Two weeks ago, I announced that I am feeling 'less happy' this Christmas -- for some good reason then which was related to developments in the workplace. Little did I know that the mild ailment that ma cherie was nursing at that time would develop into something more painful, more remarkable, and prolonged. It is the latter which makes my Christmas definitely 'less happy' than the previous years. While the condition isn't life threatening, it diminishes one's self-confidence particularly in a period when healthy lifestyle had been a theme from day-to-day. Unlike previous holidays, we are staying in-country this time in order to find the appropriate medical remedies until before the frenzy of the incoming year snows us down.

I am certain that we shall eventually overcome this challenge by hedging our bets over time. But the feeling of 'less happy' unfortunately prevails in me preventing those spontaneous smiles and laughter which I know is a temporary state.

Hey it's Christmas, I suddenly remind myself. In two hours, Santa will alight above us with his goodies that include the gift that I wished for.

I realized that I have not been as prolific with my posts, thanks to disturbances such as this on many fronts in my life. Despite that, I have been surprised and gifted this year with friends whose photos/avatars have shown up on this blog space. The experience of this discovery was humbling and numbing. Having met, read, and exchanged with great people like you was a progressive Christmas gift, something that Santa sent well in advance of this day. Thank you to all, may our friendship endure into the next years, and I hope that those bursts of emotions in every post and natural responses from each and everyone continue onwards.

A Joyful Christmas to all.

Choice

noreply@blogger.com (Peter Pan) — Wed, 8 Dec 2010 17:19:00 +0100

Yum. On my way home, I pass by some hole-in-the-wall eateries that are frequented not only by nearby residents but by folks from elsewhere judging from the number of vehicles parked outside. Apparently, the customers are enjoying food and company despite the simple and barren interiors, the seemingly unbearable heat and humidity, and the smell of burnt food from the grill. If only most small establishments in our City were patronized by as many people everyday, I am inclined to believe that an important stage to the distribution of economic prosperity throughout social classes is at hand.

A perennial problem however in developing nations is the stranglehold of the oligarchy on the instruments of wealth creation and accumulation.

Likewise, I am witness to the mushrooming shopping centres and supermarkets owned by one super-wealthy family whose name has literally been transformed into a brand. That's the same story in regard to similar families -- very rich, owners of large industrial empires, in control of huge economic levers, mutually reinforcing, motivated by monopolistic objectives.

I feel very strongly against monopolies or near-monopolies. These practices are undemocratic and seriously undermine the economic health of nations. Furthermore, they rob us of the ability to exercise choices and to benefit from efficiencies (such as lower prices) attendant to a variety of choices in the market. Their presence in effect kills enterprise. In some sense, they are consumer terrorists.

I pray for the end of their era in much the same way that the big US banks have been shuttered on account of uncontrolled greed. I'd like to see flourishing small businesses with authentic products and genuine interests. May that time arrive soon.

Acceptance

noreply@blogger.com (Peter Pan) — Mon, 29 Nov 2010 06:59:00 +0100

Owww. I caught a clip of Ray Kurzweil on television. He ceremoniously informed that in the next decade, man would be able to conquer almost all of life-crippling diseases and therefore to extend his life further. Then I remembered having listened to him once in Lausanne where he gave specific realities to Marshall McLuhan's thought of of a global village. A futurist like Kurweil didn't have to state the obvious result of ongoing advances in biotechnology for us to realize what might again change the face of mankind just as technology itself had radically done in the last decade. At the same time, we've been reading about massive efforts to preserve the present.

It dawned on me that in relation to Kurzweil's crusade, the unraveling changes in this world which include the transformation of mankind is a natural stage in evolution. The slow disappearance of certain animal species which many are trying hard to overturn is one distinct manifestation. Science-fiction in movies leads us to preview the future -- vastly different, somewhat scary, but inevitable.

Human relationships are just as vulnerable to changes. From some recent blog posts elewhere, I've read about personal states such as marriage which led to divorce and more commonly, a current beau ended up as someone else's. Should these even be resisted.

Why should I even raise the possibility of fractures being healed. Regardless, the subsequent state would be different -- some scarred, others deformed, the rest replaced -- from the original form . A more comfortable thought.

With that, the coming holidays won't be too stressful.

Healed?

noreply@blogger.com (Peter Pan) — Sun, 14 Nov 2010 08:59:00 +0100

Chill. It is the Season and my favorite coffee shop trumpets as usual its annual planner which can be had for an equivalent number of coffee cups. But who needs a printed and handwritten planner in this age which is actively searching for a personal digital convergence device. Lugging around and much less opening printed pages to write on in meetings are ancient. I presage this blog with that observation in relation to the immediately preceding post (re Fractures).

Many thanks to those who provided rejoinders by voting for the idea that 'categories' help us 'make sense' of this world.

Yes, categories and planners help us 'make sense' of our presence and that of others in this world. They also enable us to rationalize thoughts and behavior especially if these are different from our expectations. How much and to what extent can we actually predict the behavior of others in order to align our plans with theirs. If you'd ask me if we even need to do that, my answer would be a 'yes'.

Consider an arranged date with someone you've been having the 'hots' for. All's been planned for this auspicious date only to be blindsided by a text message from him asking for a re-schedule due to some 'significant' reason. Did you really think that this wasn't coming? Why were you not able to foresee? Is it unforeseeable -- maybe not as easy without a previous history. If you had foreseen, what would you have done?

If another situation/event intervened like your winning the US$10 Million Lottery prize, will the plan and the outcome have changed.

There are tell-tale signs that will allow us to spot doubts; however, rationalized plans and categories force us into believing that a fracture just isn't possible. But a fracture hurts. Mendable? Possibly yes. There is hope after all in this world. As another blogger keeps on plugging -- amen to 'world peace'.

Fractures

noreply@blogger.com (Peter Pan) — Mon, 1 Nov 2010 11:24:00 +0100

Fuzzies. Our nephew Alfred went to a social event of 'beklettes' last weekend eventually ending up at a much larger Halloween party which according to him was dominated by the 'bekies' and 'beklettes'. That was some interesting social division which I first became aware of through reading AC's blog. Over glasses of margarita, I mulled over the existence of such categories particularly as they have been affecting civilizations.

A colleague who lives in Kabul I would imagine has a life fraught with constant danger no matter how much he tries to deny this reality which came about due to divisions in ethnic philosophies. Again concepts of categories among people much like differences between Christianity and Islam. History is replete with the recurrence of emerging categories that are split further into some other categories. Could that be a way of coping with inevitable complexities in this world?

There are meanings attributed to these categories such in the "Left" or the "Right". A high school student today may refer to the "Tea Party" with its meanings in current American politics than its historical origins. With tomorrow's mid-term elections in the USA, I view the combination of certain categories to suit candidates' objectives provided by the convenience and escape inherent in these categories. Consider for example a Democrat who doesn't favor Obama's healthcare reform.

To make these categories suit certain objectives is ideal if only these can be predicted. It may well be the key to preventing the transport of mail bombs from cargo planes in Yemen or to promoting their successful delivery!

In a world filled with categories, differences, and fracture after fracture, we could only hope for the best this Sweet November.

Trolley Dolly

noreply@blogger.com (Peter Pan) — Fri, 22 Oct 2010 12:23:00 +0200

Zonked. Four weeks quickly flew by but not seamlessly. To move across time zones and lose sight of time and date bring episodes of anxiety and frustration. Haven't posted anything nor read those of friends - how pathetic. At the end of every day, I couldn't even turn on my laptop due to exhaustion from endless meetings and various social activities. Ironically, the latter could have been relaxing but weren't.

On the way home, I decided to take business class in order to enjoy little comforts that might assuage a tired body. This wasn't company paid nor provided complimentarily by my favorite airline [which has done that before] but purchased from mileage credited to my account. In effect, it was a purchased seat for which I deserved the appropriate treatment, convenience, and peace.

Alas, the expectation wasn't meant to be. The culprit: the trolley-dolly [aka air hostess/stewardess] and there were several of them on the flight.

They have this bad habit of never leaving you alone -- even serving food is a disruption when you don't need it. Then they serve food like they'd like to announce it to the world by walking up and down the aisle, asking you details about your food preferences, and behaving as if they were in prepetual hurry. Why couldn't airlines simply lay out the food on some table and allow the passengers to pick whatever they wanted.

When they're rung for service, it would take an eternity for them to arrive because [as they said] there were just too many passengers. But hello, that was business class which ought to have an exclusive coterie of servers. Many of the females actually had passive aggression which I must say was borne out of training and attitude fostered on them by helpless passengers and which was manifested in the tone of voice and the smirk on faces. In one flight and as we were about to disembark, one of them had the courage to ask ma cherie if the shawl she had on was one of the airline's [while colours were nearly similar, the materials were different] and it was the seeming arrogance of the woman to venture asking without as much as an apologetic mien [to think that we were also on business class].

Asian airlines are often guilty of these offenses but the aggressive qualities are more often than not found in every flight. It is possible that this is a post 9/11 phenomenon which only contributes to the stress of travel. It is likely that complaints have been aired many times by countless passengers. These characters are ghosts on domestic flights in the USA which don't serve food or sell duty-free goods but they are highly visible on inter-country flights in Europe.

Be warned and be prepared!

Connections

noreply@blogger.com (Peter Pan) — Sun, 19 Sep 2010 08:58:00 +0200

Buzzed. Passing by a bookstore last night, I was attracted to the window display which contained among others a book authored by Jefffrey Pfeffer, a former professor who brought this guy named Keith Ferrazzi to a class session on "social connections." Keith himself wrote 'Never Eat Alone' earning him the invitation to talk about it in class. His book was written with the obvious intention of building and nurturing business connections thereby creating wealth. At home, I dug up his book which I have not read since that time he's given us autographed copies and then skimmed through some valuable insights which are shared in this post.

He says that in order to become 'interesting', one should always learn. . . .in order to earn more. And that content-creators (this includes bloggers) are readers, questioners, or conversationalists. He recommends quite expensive pursuits -- books and magazines, three to five conferences a year, a course or two, and developing relationships with leaders (in the field of blogging?).

Staying healthy, says Keith, makes someone interesting. Sensible. His workout regimen is five times a week (overkill?), takes a five-day vacation every other month (you wish!), and goes on a spirituality retreat once a month (yeah - in Burma).

"Creativity is worthless if it can't be applied", he emphasizes then says that the end-all should be that "this will make us more money".

There's this part of the book on personalities to watch and avoid from turning into one in social gatherings: the wallflower (you know who that is); the ankle-hugger who shadows his/her BFF; the celebrity hound who chases the most important person at the event; the swarmy eye darter who gives you a 30-second bad sound bite and moves quickly to another person; the card dispenser/amasser who passes his card out to everyone.

In person, Keith is a highly-engaged conversationalist like a living proof of his book. He is in his early 30s, has written another book titled "Who Watches Your Back". Yes, he is gay and I think he still resides in America.

Light-hearted thoughts for the 'networker' on a lazy Sunday.

Differences

noreply@blogger.com (Peter Pan) — Sun, 12 Sep 2010 17:11:00 +0200

Globalization Part Two. Our friend Benjie lives in New York City and works for one of the City's finest service agencies. His apartment overlooks Central Park which gives him enough incentive to hike over at any time especially on late evenings. He tells us that nocturnal citizens of the Park would carry with them flashlights all the time for various reasons but importantly for viewing faces of their co-habitues. Out-of-the-blue. Startling. I suppose one gets used to it in time but isn't that quite a courageous posture to cruising. Only in the City that Never Sleeps.

That experience I thought runs contrary to my belief about the American culture which thrives on impersonal relationships. A Disneyland experience will confirm my observation, where the characters are hidden away in fancy costumes and buried deep somewhere when their performance duties aren't called for. Even the Disney Park's utility workers are clad in clothing and costumes intending to depersonalize (or even dehumanize) their existence [Ever asked why one had to dress like a rat?]

From where did the world learn to accept the senseless greeting of "Welcome to McDonald's" while the greeter is attending to another customer at the till. Did anyone feel like responding to the greeting?

I initially thought that the greeting of 'Bonjour' in Paris was something similar -- senseless, impersonal, idiotic -- until I bravely talked up some of those who dished out the greeting in hotels, in restaurants, even at the Buddha Bar. If they failed to greet, it meant that they may not have noticed you or (!) they didn't like you at all. Unlike the Americans who are slaves to consumerism, I think that the French are inclined to view themselves as experts in whatever they do regardless of their profession and therefore take their actions (or their opinions) seriously.

One time in NYC, I did not have enough loose currency for restaurant tipping that I left only U$10 on the table. The waiter had the temerity to run after me and give back the money because as he said it is less than what was expected. At Paris' Le Tropic bar which is mostly frequented by the young adult gay population, we are never bothered with tips and do not see any apparent interest on the part of the gorgeous waiters to push drinks past your face from time to time. They are nevertheless quick to respond to requests for another glass of kir with the most seductive of smiles.

Last year in Hongkong, a pretty senior Anglo-Saxon guy loudly greeted me with "Hi, hi, hi" meeting me through a hallway. Nothing's wrong with that except that we were surely not acquainted with each other. Again, nothing's wrong with a desire to 'pick up' someone in an airport but that was as bold as holding a lit flashlight to a stranger's face. In contrast, I received once from a waiter at the Banana Cafe in Paris a card sent by one customer seated inside [I was at the exterior area] asking if he could join me for drinks. Nothing's wrong with that. Different strokes with different cultures. Tolerable differences which could bring us to World Peace -- if only all differences were tolerable.

Globalization

noreply@blogger.com (Peter Pan) — Sun, 29 Aug 2010 08:20:00 +0200

World Peace? "Could I borrow your set of plug-adapters for the laptop?", asked ma cherie as she was packing her luggage one day. As I handed over the universal plugs, I wondered what happened to her's and mulled over a seeming indispensable accessory of international travel today . . . . if you'd like to stay in touch with loved ones, friends, and official business . . . or simply find some way of whiling time in airports or cafes.

Why haven't the electrical systems of nations been globalized -- one system, one world, one plug! That alone is an indication that disagreement and aggression among nations at the WTO round tables and conferences will continue until who knows when. Is it really possible to globalize trade in an unglobalized world of varied cultures?

Across the Atlantic, the mobile phone reflects cultural divides. In Paris, the locals that you meet along the Rue de Rivoli would be talking on their mobiles but with short, to-the-point clips. Over in New York, the cell phone isn't as obvious on Fifth Avenue but when they call, the Americans seem to spend a lifetime conversing or arguing with the party at the other end. While both cultures may tend to use the mobile phone for voiced communication, the French are more inclined than Americans who with the advent of the Blackberry increasingly keep up with their email messages.

And why does Britain if it were indeed part of Europe insist on driving on the other side of the road compared to the rest of the continent.

Wouldn't the world benefit from economies of scale if nations were willing to give up material differences on perhaps electrical and transportation systems and then savings ploughed into innovations that could contribute to a sustainable global community. Are chasms at the WTO meetings due to intellectual substance than to philistine pride.

Hongkong

noreply@blogger.com (Peter Pan) — Sun, 22 Aug 2010 10:21:00 +0200

Nerves! Decidedly one of my favorite world cities, Hongkong was our next stop on the way home. It beckons because it is home to many Chinese friends with whom we've spent many exciting moments including Christmas dinners on Lamma island and in the new territories, one freezing barbecue binge on Repulse bay, and Chinese New Year celebrations. It serves as our most convenient gateway to Europe, North America, or some parts of Africa and then back; let's not also forget airline loyalties due to frequent flier miles.

In the news recently was a legislator from our country belonging to a family of distinct notoriety who had been caught with prohibited drugs in his possession. His family bailed him out (luckily that was possible) and spun the tale that the situation was manipulated by some influential parties. In Hongkong?

Light, airy, and shopping-friendly: Hongkong's airport

I had my own sordid experience too when on entering the territory this time my passport was closely scrutinized by immigration authorities to the point that I was brought to their back offices where I came across people of various nationalities waiting for some dialogue with the Chinese officials. It was a horribly irritating 20 minutes of wasted time while Immigration scanned the pages of my passport, talked among themselves over it, and then asked me of when I shall leave the City. As I was eventually let go and escorted into baggage claim, I had not been informed about the reason for the brief incident which prompted me to demand for an explanation. We went back to the office because the escort agent could not communicate well in English.

There I discovered that I was detained because the letters bearing my first name on the passport's first page were somewhat smudged. That had to be since this document is almost four years old and went through the fingers of countless consulates and various immigration personnel in many countries. In the shadows of 9/11, we can only be wary of instantly arising situations (especially in airports) like that. Have you seen the movie Rendition?

It was recommended that I secure a new passport -- the digital type -- to avoid similar circumstances and which they say is "for my own good". Hmmmm. My stubborn nature tells me to diss that instruction and to keep using the current one until expiry. On exiting Hongkong, I hoped that Immigration would see that smudge again but they didn't in the same way that they hadn't on previous times which only proved my theory that the observation was subjective and defensible. But one could miss a flight that way! The other motivation for me to acquire a digital passport is the ease of checking in at airport kiosks (as opposed to check-in counters) which require this kind of identity document.

The visit to Hongkong was planned so as to meet Chinese friends and if only for that was well worth the anxiety and troubles. But yes, Hongkong will still be a favorite.

Holy Days

noreply@blogger.com (Peter Pan) — Sun, 15 Aug 2010 17:12:00 +0200

Part of the spice market within the souks

Au revoir, mes amis.We left Marrakesh just as Ramadan began. Leaving was the right decision as the City was just about to shift into holy mode and then soon its residents would be sporting long faces more out of food-deprivation from dawn to dusk than anything else. Goodbye to a colourful culture and to an equally lively people whose religious discipline I had come to admire.

Faithfulness is written all over the country and I suppose on the rest of the muslim world. I wish them well and thank them for the wonderful reception accorded me in the riad where we stayed and in the souks which I had bravely foraged.

Trance

noreply@blogger.com (Peter Pan) — Sun, 8 Aug 2010 08:37:00 +0200

Dazed. In the bowels of Heathrow's terminal 5 business class lounge, I took a strategic seat which allowed a panoramic view of a variety of passenger types. All of us were definitely en route and I again went on to while time in an airport by people-watching.

The 'road warriors' always fascinate me. With one hand on the laptop's keyboard and the other tapping away on the Blackberry, they're the quintessential business travellers who feel an entitlement to the place. They're not even looking at either screen while doing all that. Is this awesome display of ambidexterity due to some chase at stock markets opening and closing in some parts of the globe; that a second's miscue could mean quantum financial losses. Or is it just a trend that to divert from it will show a less competent individual. In all cases, they'd look dazed. I have not fallen for this cult (yet?) but the reminder of a laptop in my carry-on is tempting as well as securing one of those public workstations in the lounge if only to check on mails.

Then there's the 'hyperactive' who keeps on commuting from his seat to the food buffet or drinks counter unmindful of other passengers as he skips and hops around. He seems nervous about something -- missing his flight or meeting someone at the end of the flight? Does he know that only an idiot misses a plane? While moving about, they disturb the relative peace of the lounge and waste the food which they do not even touch after all. More to the point, they're dazed.

The 'TV fan' has eyes eternally glued to the television whatever nonsensical show is going on. Perfectly dazed. Not a word to his nearby companion. Try changing channels and he wouldn't mind as he simply continues to stare.

There are raucous passengers who might have chanced on an acquaintance and are busy catching up with each other. Vocal sound decibels are above what one might expect in a resting spot like this lounge but what caught my attention was that nobody seemed to care about conversations bordering on the noisy. Animated faces of people exchanging news and views sharply contrast against stoic faces of quiet and oftentimes individual lonely travellers.

In airports, we are all caught in a space of time and of place. We are neither here nor there. This is what keeps passengers dazed. With the reality that it is a temporary state and so would be the next one (i.e., inside the aircraft), we might feel lost, anxious, imprisoned, irritated, sick, or oftentimes we don't know what it really is because we do not acknowledge it. Pity the constant traveller who flits from one tentative state to another -- be it airport or hotel. The trance never ends.

Image? Beauty?

noreply@blogger.com (Peter Pan) — Wed, 4 Aug 2010 11:37:00 +0200

Drat! Until now she is considered a high priestess of couture and beauty. Everytime I attend a social gathering there is inevitably a svelte damsel garbed in that famous 'little black dress' proudly faithful to its backless original. Her perfume Number 5 does not fail to impress in high society. Our featured agency for this post is Madame Coco Chanel because of recent discussions about women wanting to make themselves attractive and beautiful with clothes, jewelry, hair styles and coloring, beauty products, and now cosmetic surgery. I asked myself what would Coco think of breast augmentation, tummy tucks, and liposuction. If anyone who has intimacy on her thoughts and philosophy, please post your comments.

More than just profits from it, beauty has been medicalized for sure suggesting that it can be improved or modified. I do not have problems with that as long as women's self-image, self-esteeem, and well-being are made better and therefore their lives changed after the cosmetic surgery. With the improvement in body parts, one's self-image image improves in the short term and I hope in the long-term too. Do their sex lives improve as well? Was the husband or boyfriend a major factor in the pressure to look younger or more beautiful?

Men are not spared. I have been receiving enormous spam emails offering various concoctions of Viagra. A friend informed me (how could I be so ignorant) that some major pharmacies sell tea blends that offer Viagra-like effects but for shorter durations. Better, longer erections! Larger penises! Men are also pursuing to regain lost youth and to increase virility.

I mentioned the word 'profit' earlier which i think has motivated this whole industry. Whether or not the need is there, the landscape of cosmetic surgery has motivated that need or desire to surface -- even if irrational. Or is there a "right to beauty" really? And is cosmetic surgery the answer?