DJ Shadow - Organ Donor (Extended Overhaul)

Sparkle and Shine

Gems from one of the cleaning staff at the Ireland outbound section of Heathrow Terminal 1 at around 10pm:

Man (Indian origin, 65 years old): ...its good here, quiet today.
Woman (African origin, 40 years old): Yes, sometimes it can get very busy.
Man: But I like it. Everyday I find 50p or 1 pound while cleaning. People always drop change.
Woman: What do you do with it?
Man: I buy my drink. You know, Red Bull. Something to keep me awake.

*Walking Away*

*Coming Back*

Man: Every day I clean up at least 5 full cups of coffee.
Woman: So?
Man: This place here that sells the coffee.. if its so bad, why are they allowed to keep on selling it? No one finishes their coffee.
Woman: *laughing*

La Gran Muralla en Beijing

¡Hola, hola!

Ya estamos en Beijing, o Pekín, como prefieras llamarlo.
Pues sí, es una ciudad enoooorme.
Sorprende llegar por primera vez y esperar verlo todo llenísimo de gente. Pues no, no es así.
Por la zona del centro, donde están los rascacielos, las avenidas son enormes y no se ve tanta gente como te esperas. El tráfico no es tan terrible como en otras ciudades mucho menos pobladas de Asia, y además se puede pasear.
Incluso la vida nocturna está bastante decente, nos han llevado a algunos lugares espectaculares.
Eso sin hablar de los grandes monumentos.



Voy a poner unas fotillos de la Gran Muralla China, que es uno de los monumentos más visitados del mundo junto con el Palacio Prohibido, que también está en Beijing.
Se comenzó a construir hace más de 2000 años, casi nada. Desde el 403 al 221 antes de Cristo.
Trabajaron en ella unos 300.000 hombres.


¿Donde está la gente?

Con la cantidad de ladrillo y piedra que se ha usado para su construcción se podría hacer un muro de unos 2 metros y medio que rodease la Tierra.


Un nativo.


Otra nativa, no todos son iguales... :P

Estoy en China, Guangzhou, comiendo perros y gatos y el tren a Beijing

Pues sí, estoy aquí en China. Hemos empezado por Guangzhou, capital de la provincia de Guandong al sur de China, también conocido como Cantón. Con unos 10 millones de habitantes, de los cuales solo hay 7,3 registrados. Es uno de los pocos lugares, junto con Hong Kong, en que se habla cantonés. En el resto de China se habla Mandarín.

Se puede llegar desde Hong Kong cruzando los 182 kilómetros que los separan ya sea en tren, autobús o ferry.

Es una ciudad bastante fea, pero con alguna que otra cosa interesante, como la Isla de Shamian, recuerdo de las colonias francesas y británicas, considerado un mar de calma entre la maraña de caos y tráfico que es el resto de la ciudad. Es el único lugar de China donde los europeos pudieron establecer asentamientos. Una cosa muy curiosa y entrañable es que este ha sido designado como punto de reunión para los cientos de norteamericanos que vienen a China a adoptar niñas. Se suelen alojar en el hotel White Swam, al lado del río.

Es interesante ver parejas de gigantescos americanos llevando contentas y diminutas niñas chinas con mofletes rojos asustadas, pero felices de la nueva vida que les aguarda y de las muestras de cariño recibidas por los que serán a partir de ahora los miembros de su nueva familia.

No es que solo adopten americanos, no, lo que pasa es que los europeos tienen otra zona donde gestionar los trámites y donde reunirse con las niñas.

En frente de la Isla de Shamian se encuentra el mercado Qingping famoso por la bizarra selección de animales que se venden aquí para uso alimenticio. A pesar de que para algunos puede resultar muy duro ver como, las que podrían ser nuestras queridas mascotas, se venden como carne, merece la pena darse un paseo para verse sumergido de lleno en otra cultura tan distinta a la nuestra como es la china.

Te puedes comprar unos pececillos...

Unos bonsais...

O unos gatitos para comer...

Ahora mismo estoy en Beijing. Hemos tardado unas 23 horas en llegar en tren.

El viaje ha sido genial con una habitacioncita para dos muy cuca. Me encantan los trenes...

La operadora y el tren.

Vista de casas en Guangzhou.

El comedor/cuarto de estar en el tren. Y un hermoso ventanal.

Camitas.

Otra vista de las camas. Con tele.

Y el WC.

No puedo esperar contaros todas las cosas que nos han pasado en la capital de China. Seguiré escribiendo.

Abrazos.

Arrival Day - times TWO!

Two years ago today, we brought Alex home from Korea. Ah, memories. It was a magical, brutal 38-hour day thanks to the 14-hour time change and the long overnight flight. I had a fleeting sense of panic as the foster mother kissed Alex one last time, whispering Korean secrets into her ear, shoved Alex into my arms and ran away weeping. Alex had a great time in the Korean airport playroom, but cried for much of the plane ride, and was subjected to a full-body search in the San Francisco airport. The pictures of our arrival in SLC tell the story: we are rumpled, our hair is a mess, our eyes are tired, Alex is somehow still awake and alert and looking around curiously- but we are finally HOME.

I can't believe how much my baby has changed since then. There is no way to describe the delights of the past two years. I think back to my life before I was a parent and it seems almost one- or two-dimensional in comparison to the full-color, 3-D, high-speed blur that life has been since then. Alex is such a joyful little girl, so animated, so full of life and zest. We are truly BLESSED to have her and days like this just remind me of it.

In addition - an extra-special ARRIVAL happened today here in SLC. John and Cameo's long-awaited baby was born this morning at 7:15 a.m. Cameo went into labor shortly after midnight, I think, and she pushed for about 1 and 1/2 hours before delivering a beautiful 7 lb, 6 oz girl with ten purple toes (see picture). Everything sounded like it went smoothly, a relief since this was Cameo's first "regular"-style delivery after Ava came out by C-section. They really liked the nurse who was on duty (her son goes to our church - small world) and Buzz seemed really happy with the way it all happened. Lena latched on and nursed shortly after birth and seems to be content, quiet, and interested in this strange new world she has landed in.

Two cousins - two arrival days - two years apart. Welcome to the world, Lena. So happy to have you, Alex. My cup overfloweth. :-)

Happy Birthday, Dad

Today my dad is 71. He happens to be in Papua New Guinea right now, volunteering with a surgical mission team, doing primitive anesthesia with some sort of ether contraption. He had been warned about extreme heat, and malaria, and dengue fever, and having to haul a 50-pound box of supplies into the bush, but he still wanted to go. Sounds like dad! He finally retired last year, but I knew he would find ways to keep working. I think he really loves doing what he does.

He also loves outdoor adventures. I don't know how much this is a reaction to spending his early years in Brooklyn, but once he moved out west he never looked back. He drove, rafted, hiked, backpacked, and motorcycled pretty much the entire Western US. I wish I had a map of the miles he's covered, including umpteen trips through the Grand Canyon. When he gets back, I'm going to encourage him to write a memoir. I bet he's got stories I've never heard.

So, here's to you today, Dad. I hope you're having fun, using your mosquito netting, and keeping your patients pain-free. Happy 71 to you!

Macau, casinos, prostitutas, policías y pistolas y periódicos

Macau es una zona administrativa independiente de China. Antigua colonia portuguesa. todavía se pueden leer los carteles y el nombre de las calles en chino y en portugués. Con marcada arquitectura europea.
Se dice que tiene más casinos que Las Vegas (menos impresionantes, por supuesto). Millones de turistas de China y Hong Kong vienen aquí a dejarse el sueldo jugando o "divirtiéndose" con lindas señoritas de compañía.
Pues no se nos ocurre otra cosa que ir a verlo a mí y a mi coleguilla Arcadio (sí, como Arcadio Buendía de Cien años de soledad).



Pues en esto que nos vamos al hotel (de mierda) al mediodía a descansar y ducharnos y de pronto oímos como llaman a la puerta, al abrir unos policías de paisanos se indentifican y entran en mi habitación con pistolas y con aire autoritario nos piden que no movamos ni un pelo. Mientras otros policías abren la puerta de la habita de al lado y empiezan a apuntar a alguien con las fuscas (pistolas para los no informados). Registran mi habitación, incluido el techo y mi mochila, y no nos dejan salir hasta pasadas unas horas. Nos piden el pasaporte, pero al ver que somos occidentales no le prestan mucha atención.
Mientras tanto escuchamos como en la habitación de al lado gritan y esposan a gente. Podemos ver como siguen apuntando a alguien de manera nerviosa. Nos esperamos que va a haber un tiroteo de un momento a otro...



Los maderos siguen sin dejarnos salir de la habitación.
Llamamos a una amiga canadiense que está en otra habitación y, preocupada, nos pregunta si estamos limpios, está asustada. Le decimos que sí, que no se preocupe. Al rato llamamos otra vez y dice que le han pedido el pasaporte también y que hay como 50 policías tomando la calle.
Cuando al final decidimos salir, porque no vemos a nadie alrededor, recogemos nuestras cosas, vamos a recepción y peleamos como leones para que nos devuelvan parte de lo que hemos pagado por la habitación, junto con unos simpáticos paquistaníes. Cogemos un taxi al la estación de ferris y nos vamos de Macau para no volver.
Ahora estamos en Hong Kong más felices que unas lombrices.



Y ¿qué veo hoy en las noticias oonline de Macau?
Pues una portada en la que salen los polis que entraron en mi habita y mis vecinos de hotel que, al parecer, estaban metidos en algún lío.
Muy fuerte.

¡Que le dén a Macau!
Un lugar famoso por los casinos y la prostitución no puede ofrecer nada bueno. Y Macau no es la excepción.

Mother's Day 2007

This is the first Mother's Day since 2003 that I haven't been in the process of "waiting" for a child. There is such a deep inner joy that comes with having some of your life wishes fulfilled. It's not that all of life is perfect now, but in this motherhood arena at least I am feeling full and happy.

I am also mindful of the fact that, due to the nature of adoption, my happiness had to come at the expense of someone else's. Now the tables are turned - it is the birth moms of my kids who are "mothers without a child" on mother's day. I wish I knew if they ever go back to the agency and check out the file on their babies. Do they look at the pictures? Read the letters? Or is it just too painful?

Another mom posted this on a website I frequent. Once I thought these kinds of things were sappy. Now they make me cry. :-)

Legacy of an Adopted Child

Once there were two women who never knew each other.

One you do not remember, the other you call Mother.

Two different lives shaped to make you one.

One became your guiding star, the other became your sun.

The first one gave you life, and the second taught you to live it.

The first gave you a need for love. The second was there to give it.

One gave you a nationality. The other gave you a name.

One gave you a talent. The other gave you aim.

One gave you emotions. The other calmed your fears.

One saw your first sweet smile. The other dried your tears.

One sought for you a home that she could not provide.

The other prayed for a child and her hope was not denied.

And now you ask me, through your tears,

the age-old question unanswered through the years.

Heredity or environment, which are you a product of?

Neither, my darling. Neither. Just two different kinds of Love.

© Author Unknown

Wishing for healing and comfort for all mothers who are grieving lost children. And to the birth moms of my kids: you are in my heart forever.

reasons for eating less beef

Even though I don't eat much meat, I've never seriously considered being a vegetarian. I think it's mainly that I don't want to restrict my diet very far in any direction. I like variety and convenience.

That said, some people in that small group I've been attending were talking about global warming and the surprisingly large contribution cows are making to our "carbon footprint." Not only do they produce that infamous methane gas, but the land cleared and water used for their pastures means less land and water for other food production, and the amount of land, water, hay etc. to support cattle is much greater than to support chickens, people, etc.

According to my vegetarian friends, the single act of abstaining from beef would have much greater positive environmental impact than almost anything else we (as individuals) can do -- including buying a hybrid car. Interesting.

So, if it would stop global warming, would I give up eating beef? Sure. I enjoy a good steak now and then, but I hardly eat beef anyway. For me it would be an easy sacrifice. But then I got to thinking - what if I had to give up dairy? Does dairy production require a similar number of cows and have the same impact on environment? Heaven forbid I should have to permanently forego ice cream!

If anyone knows about the relative impact of dairy consumption on the environment vs. beef consumption, feel free to respond.

Simplify

The past two weeks I've been attending a new small group. I was invited by one of my fellow church-nursery volunteers. In between holding babies and picking up chewed Cheerios, we had discovered some common interests, and he thought I might enjoy this group. So far, it's been good.

Last week, one of the group members invited us to his home - which he brought to us. It's a converted bread truck in which he has been living for the past three years. A white painted board on the back proclaims "Simplify" in green letters. Five portholes punched into one side provide light; the inside is spare but inviting and clean, with a faint smell of varnished wood and a camp-out feeling. He explained that he used to have a three-bedroom house full of stuff--but became convinced he really didn't need it. He plans to spend the summer on the road, sharing his home and his "simplify" message with whoever happens to be open to it. He pointed out to us that the average US family has decreased in size since the 1950's, while living space has increased - to the point where we now have 6 times the living space our grandparents had. "Give away your stuff!" he encourages. "You'll be amazed at how good it feels."

Refreshing - and challenging. I love the fact that this guy is living out his convictions--"walking the talk", so to speak. I've always liked the concept of living simply, though I haven't practiced it consistently. I sincerely enjoy the process of de-cluttering, and I think if I lived alone I would prefer a smaller, emptier space - but since kids have entered my life, the process of accumulation has already accelerated. How much time do we spend just trying to sort through and clear away the sheer jumble of stuff that comes at us?

I remember reading an article about the psychological stress of all the choices we have to make now - from buying a digital camera to simple grocery shopping. Is it possible to have too many choices? I remember trying to choose a health insurance plan when I was hired for my current job. It literally took me an entire day. I pored over the fine print trying to compare apples to oranges and weigh multiple types of benefits against each other. Choosing a cell phone plan, or buying a computer, is the same way. Even if we didn't own a lot of stuff, or gave most of it away, just living in this world requires us to navigate complex systems on a daily basis.

So, besides giving away your stuff, and not buying junk you don't need in the first place, what other ways can we simplify? Should simplicity be an end in itself, or should we focus more on managing the complexity we necessarily face - taking from it what we can and minimizing its potential to overwhelm us?

La WaveRock de nuevo

Wave Rock (6), originally uploaded by kalibushido.

Bastante chula, ¿no?

Wave Rock , Australia

Wave Rock (13), originally uploaded by kalibushido.

Al poco de llegar a Australia fuímos a ver la WaveRock.
Una formación de roca con forma de ola, como su nombre indica...

Nueva Zelanda, Kiwis y fotos

Pese a la sequía de posts. Sigo enamorado de mi blog.

Estoy en Queenstown, la ciudad más bonita de Nueva Zelanda, de momento.

Al igual que a los Australianos se les llama OZ (Aussies), a los Neocelandeses se les dice Kiwis.

¿Que por qué? Pues porque solo en Nueva Zelanda existe un pajarillo muy salado que se llama Kiwi. Parece una bola de pelo con pico largo, es muy salao.

Ya subiré fotitos pronto, si no lo he hecho hasta ahora es porque Internet es un poco carillo por aquí. La verdad es que no es una escusa muy buena... La verdadera razón es que he estado haciendo otras cosillas con el ordenador de las que os iré informando en breve. A ver si os puedo dar alguna buena noticia.

Bueno, espero que seáis felices y comáis bien.

Abrazo