A bit of Lewisian erudition

I'm currently reading C.S. Lewis' autobiography "Surprised by Joy", and just came across a passage in which the author effectively articulates my thoughts in my last blog posting ("Ideas etc.". In this excerpt, the young student Lewis has just moved to Surrey in England, and is describing one of his first walks in the area:

"Meanwhile, on afternoons and on Sundays, Surrey lay open to me. County Dawn in the holidays and Surrey in the term - it was an excellent contrast. Perhaps, since their beauties were such athat even a fool could not force them into competition, this cured me once and for all of the pernicious tendency to compare and to prefer - an operation that does little good even when we are dealing with works of art and endless harm when we are dealing with nature. Total surrender is the first step towards the fruition of either. Shut your mouth; open your eyes and ears. Take in what is there and give no thought to what might have been there or what is somewhere else. That can come later, if it must come at all." - Lewis, "Surprised by Joy" (Glasgow: Fount, 1955) p. 118

Taken literally, Lewis is talking about appreciation of nature here; the passage doesn't appear to be a salient metaphor for thought processes such as moral reasoning. Indeed, anyone who's read Lewis to even a modest degree realizes that he rarely hesitates to make a strong distinction between "right" and "wrong". However, I think this excerpt speaks to the danger of making that distinction too hastily, notwithstanding the fact that it ultimately does need to be made.

Now, for a bit of autobiographical content on my part: I arrived in Perth, Western Australia yesterday, after a relatively long and arduous plane journey (I don't think it would be hyperbolic to compare a pan-Pacific plight on United Airlines to passage to Australia on a convict ship in the 1780's). As was the case in India, I don't intend to bore anyone with chronological updates; rather, most of my postings in the next couple weeks will consist of the random musings and outlandish allegories that you've come to expect in this blog. I'm pretty sure they'll be more numerous than they have been for the past couple months - there's something about travelling that brings out the blogger in me!

Cheers,
Tom

Ideas: nasty little brutes, aren't they?

I've been thinking lately about ideas.  I'm not talking about specific ideas, such as how I'm going to swing free meals on Monday, Tuesday and Friday to compliment my current freeload on Wednesday and Thursday, or what it will take to even come close to meeting the 78 servings of veggies a day commanded by the Canada Food Guide (don't even get me started on that one).  No, I'm getting at the very idea of ideas in general: how people come up with them, communicate them, and judge them.  More specifically, I've recently been impressed by the incredible diversity of ideas that I hear every day.

I know what you're thinking: this post already reeks of the potential to put you to sleep faster than intravenous melatonin.  I fully understand and empathize, since I'm actually falling asleep as I type the bloody thing; however, I'd really appreciate it if you put in the effort to slog through it.  As well as offering my typically humble outlook on the world around us, I think this entry will give you a basis to more fully understand me as a writer, friend, and creepy-guy-who-hangs-around-at-your-house-all-the-time-for-no-apparent-reason (you know who you are).  

You see, while I've always loved hearing other people's ideas, I've always struggled with how to handle them in my mind.  There's just so damn many of them out there!  Whether consciously or subconsciously, in the past I've usually felt the need to gather them, label them as good or bad, and stuff them into some cognitive filing cabinet.  I'm sure that a big part of this desire can be attributed to the materialistic "quest for knowledge" that I seem to constantly be embarking on, hoping to eventually reach a destination of bliss, a paradise island of intellectual superiority in the middle of a vast sea of ambiguity.  As I've mentioned before in my blogs, I constantly seem to foolishly convince myself that fulfillment can be found in academic proficiency, or the mastery of the scope of ideas.

However, I think that's only part of it.  For although I may derive a certain amount of satisfaction from garnering as many different theories and concepts as I can (gathering quantity), I'm also interested in scrutinizing them (analyzing quality).  I know I'm not the only one that has this obsession with categorizing ideas; indeed, whether you step into a university political science lecture, sit down in a busy coffee shop, or turn on "The View", you'll hear people identifying them as leftist or rightist, shallow or deep, stupid or profound.  The inevitably different opinions people possess often embody themselves in arguments or debate, themselves types of interactions that have been around since time immemorial.  

Why are we so intent of categorizing ideas as right or wrong?  As I think about my own tendency to do so, I think it has to do with the security that comes with forming - and reaffirming - a certain worldview.  The modernist philosophical tradition, which emerged out of the Enlightenment epoch that started in the 17th century, states that scientific proofs must be used to determine what is true and what isn't.  In this time period - also sometimes referred to as the Age of Reason - it was increasingly thought that if something couldn't be proven as undoubtedly true, then it didn't constitute acceptable knowledge: that is, it would be considered a "bunk idea".  This ultimately translates into an "all-or-nothing" mindset when it comes to "bases of knowledge", which could also be referred to as "collections of ideas".  Only those ideas that can be rationally proven in a very explicit sense (from an individual's perspective) deserve admission into a base of knowledge.  Worldviews - which are essentially consolidations of knowledge, or convictions - that are based on this staunchly empirical class of idea are probably attractive to people because they're very easy to define and identify with, and thus derive identity from.  Unfortunately, they also hold alot of potential for conflict, and don't tend to leave any room for ideas that are controversial, or shrouded in ambiguity.

For the record: I think it is immensely important for individuals to form strong convictions (read: have explicitly categorized ideas) on certain issues.  Although the idea of "objective truth" is indeed elusive, I think it does exist somewhere in the universe, with important bits of it periodically being revealed to us.  Certain types of moral conduct is one aspect of it that I think we need to get a good handle on; for example, it's important that it's universally accepted that murdering someone is a very bad idea.  However, if we accept too many of are ideas as being "absolutely certain", we risk immersing ourselves in stubbornness, which makes it very hard to relate to others around us.  More importantly, when it becomes increasingly clear that certain ideas that we've historically clung to are clearly wrong - e.g. racial discrimination - it can be very hard to disconnect ourselves from them. 

With these thoughts in mind, I've started to reconsider how I process different ideas.  Whereas I may have been previously content to use a standard set of qualifiers to determine their legitimacy - whether it be empirical reason, feeling, or the Ten Commandments - I think I'm starting to learn that it's immature to judge them based on their face value, or their most salient characteristics.  What if we trained our minds to realize that there's something good to be found in just about every idea (although in some cases very little - fascism comes to mind), instead of immediately throwing them onto our standardized "truth template" to make sure that all of the dots connect?  

I have a proposition.  All of you staunch atheists out there: what if, instead of writing off evangelical Christians as shallow wackos, you took the time to read the book of Matthew?  And all of you evangelical Christians: instead of writing off postmodernism as "morally relativist" or "pluralist", why don't you actually dig into the culture a little - after all, it surrounds us!  And instead of avoiding existentialism like a 19th century hymnal, why not try to swallow a bit of Kierkegaard?  Instead of being totally put off, you might actually find yourself constructively challenged about your current mindset - who knows?

Honestly, I really have no idea if what I've said here makes any sense at all.  Specifically, the paragraph in which I outline the historical emergence of modernism may be way off wack - it was closing in on 2AM when I finished it.  Hopefully, despite the inevitable inconsistencies in this posting, I've provided some food for thought and meaningful discussion regarding how we treat those troublemaking little things we call ideas.  As usual, commentary/scrutiny is welcome.

Cheers,

Tom

"On Our Watch": A documentary on Darfur presented by PBS Frontline

Hi all,

Check out this awesome PBS feature on Darfur.  Go grab a coffee, and give yourselves an hour - it's well worth it.

I found this feature - produced by the CBC for PBS's "Frontline" documentary series - to be a well produced, context-filled analysis of a crisis I've heard alot about, but I realize I don't really know alot about.  Like so many other conflicts on the African continent, Darfur's plight is a microcosm of some pretty big dilemmas in global politics.  Although I got way too much out of this piece to write in one blog (that should scare you faithful readers of this web-novel!), I'd like to share a few key ideas that I pulled out of it.  I'm going to kind of list them from most discouraging to (mildly) encouraging, so if you're initially thrown into a pit of blog-pression, just keep both hands on the wheel!

I think one of the predominant themes that the documentary drives home the need for UN reform, specifically in the structure and operation of the Security Council (SC).  Although Darfur may not go down in history as the biggest interventionist-failure of the UN - the eventual deployment of 20 000+ troops, coupled with the unspeakable failure in Rwanda, may save it from this title - it has magnified the current limits on the body of dealing with human-rights atrocities.  In particular, it is mind-boggling how the SC manages to not react to circumstances that are, to everyone outside of their glorified think-tank, inarguably unacceptable.  Instead, the SC structure allows permanent-members (in this case, Russia and China) to individually "filibuster" - if not outwardly reject - motions that everyone else in the body may support.  I understand that when the SC was initially devised, this "veto" function was granted to atomic powers to prevent one of them from being pushed into a corner, ostensibly threatening nuclear war.  However, this logic largely crumbled alongside the Berlin Wall, and I feel like that the UN needs to put the nail in the veto's coffin by getting rid of it altogether.  "Easier said than done" doesn't take away from the fact that it needs to be done.

The second, and slightly more encouraging, observation that I took away from the feature is the fact that the US played a leading role in calling for action.  This fact - which was largely overshadowed on editorial pages by berating over Dubya's royal screw-up in Iraq - should be encouraging for every sensible person that acknowledges that stuff on this scale needs an American kiss of approval.  It's a sign that despite the legacy of waging proxy wars, petrol wars, and generally poopy wars throughout the 20th century, the US might be emerging as a kind of leader in a new universal human rights order.  I'm not sure if I actually believe this myself, but it's something to think about regardless.

I think my final point is the most important one.  The most influential countries in the world are - thank God - liberal democracies, meaning that their citizens have the power (theoretically, and I think in some cases more than others in fact) to shape the decisions that their leaders make on the global scale.  There are different ways that individuals can go about doing this, including, obviously, voting in elections.  Towards the end of the documentary, acknowledgement was made to people practicing another means of their entitled influence: free speech in the form of activism.  Now, many people - myself included - have often written off the effectiveness of protests and rallies such as the ones depicted in Washington in this feature, claiming that they're populated by "clueless, pot-smoking dreadhead hippies".  However, "On Our Watch" did the viewer a good service by explicitly outlining the positive effect that popular  protests, ranging from rallies to the "Genocide Olympics" rhetoric, had on influencing the high-level decisions that finally lead to intervention in Darfur. That should be an encouragement to all of us "average Joes" who don't have the key to the General Assembly chamber.

Alright, so I just made the decision that that wasn't my final point.  In writing all of this, I realized that I have foolishly overlooked the real importance of the documentary, which was to depict the violence and suffering experienced by the people of Darfur, who don't have a cozy home to lock themselves into, or a 911 number to call.  It's kind of silly that I can watch an hour long documentary with my heart slumping and my guilt swelling the whole time, and afterwards not immediately mention feelings of sorrow and despair as my initial reaction (which they were).  I suppose the academic "drive to analyze" sometimes has a way of crowding out true concern and empathy; characteristics which, undoubtedly, must be core motivators for action.

Hopefully, we'll see increased efforts made to save the people of Darfur in the days to come.  Until then, all we can do is pray, and encourage our neighbors to take off their shoes and imagine themselves shuffling through the sands of the eastern Sahara.  

Contradictions

How can I miss 

The light that shone so brightly in his life

A trait that brought him down from glor'yus homeland

The grace that causes gods 

To dwell with mortals

How do I live

The life that by free will I chose to shun

A beast that feeds on food that does not nourish

Who stands convinced his walk

Should exhort others

How can I speak

Words that instead of love bleed judgement full

The type of speech that crumbles walls that needed

The sturdy hand of men

Who seek the Mason

How don't I realize

The scope to which I have come to look like

Those honchos who in place of selfless plunges

Instead chose to assure

Themselves of vantage

How did I lose

The type of hope that buries this campaign

Of fruitless wanderings built on self achievement

A measurement of worth

That transcends image

How can I keep

The consciousness of mind to know these things

Will subsequently burden self and sisters

Until my body's warmed

By rays of heaven

A crisis of the individual

"Will future historians write about the Great Depression of the 2000's as they did about the one in the 1930s?"

Opening line of an article in the International Herald Tribune, concerning the reportedly rapidly-escalating "global financial crisis".  I'm no economist, and I'll readily admit that I know more about bank shots than central banks (clearly getting excited about the Raptors season already!).  However, I've hung around enough neo-con, classical economist types (I'm an evangelical Christian, remember?) to understand that in reality, the major financial markets really do make the world go round.  This considered, when they start to hiccup, it takes more than a paper bag to get them running smoothly again.

Now, I really think it's easy to remove ourselves from this sort of thing.  I, for one, am overwhelmed by the sheer size and complexity of global financial networks, and like to think that there's a few contingents of LSE-educated ultra-braniacs sitting at the top of some skyscraper on Wall Street, miraculously maintaining the capacity to process enough facts and figures to keep USS Adam Smith afloat.  However, when I think about it a bit more, I realize that more than anyone else, it's US (no, not America this time: US as PEOPLE) who dictate most of the economic turns that the world takes, including the present problems of high gas prices and severe credit shortages. 

Now, this isn't the way that we usually look at it.  Because part of us - in defiance of whatever small amount of reason we possess - really does keep overestimating the influence of the nerdy market analysts at Merill Lynch, or the big-talking trade secretary in the State Department.  This is largely out of suspicion of those that hold more influence than we do, and in some cases, it's justified; there are plenty of decisions made within big businesses and bureaucracies that  we have absolutely no influence on.  However, in times of crisis, we need to consider whether the characteristic of our financial system that's made us so rich - freedom - is sneaking around and biting us in the behind.

You see, the most important dictator of what happens in the world economy is the consumer.  This is especially true in an increasingly deregulated system, where socialism is being alienated more and more as the years pass.  Sure, gas prices driven up by taxes, terrorists, cartels, and Katrinas, but the biggest determining factor is our seemingly unquenchable thirst for it.  The same can be said about the mortgage crisis that spurred the current "global crisis": although banks were certainly stupid to delve out all of this "sub-prime" credit that people couldn't afford to pay back, why were those people - perfectly aware of their own vulnerability - grappling for it in the first place?  It seems like I'm constantly coming across people who express the opinion - whether in letters to the editor, to online comment forums, to supermarket lines - that "The Man" is to blame for our woes, that our destinies are controlled by a real-world Big Brother who is not only greedy, but also at times incompetent.  Although the Orwellian prophesy has embodied itself in the past, and may well emerge again, we're certainly not in such a position of helplessness where we currently stand - at least not in the West.

We need to give ourselves more credit - and I'm not talking about the Master Card variety.  We have the power to change the status-quo, to cast away the institutions that we so naively hope will bring us happiness, without realizing that they can only bear our weight for so long.   Although this could be interpreted in many different ways, I'm not talking about rising up and overthrowing the government, or heading down to the local subdivision project and stuffing bulldozer gas tanks with potted plants.  I'm talking about changing the way that we act as individuals - realizing that the more stuff we have, the less satisfaction we're going to derive from it.  Heck, if we become less parasitically attached to our "things" as individuals, maybe the banks, governments, and other structures that we place so much emphasis on will develop a bit of foresight and conviction of responsibility themselves.  It all depends on whether we're willing to accept the "global economic crisis" as just one of the many symptoms of the crisis of the individual that continues to afflict us.  Once the diagnosis is there, we can start working towards rebuilding ourselves.    

The Great Exit

Today is the last day that I'll spend at 403 Scottsdale.  Many of you that know me from university are aware that I've spent around 3 fun-filled years in this relatively characterless, egalitarian example of low-income housing.  It truly isn't that much of a place in itself; even it's location, right behind the mall, doesn't exactly evoke cozy neighborhood charm.  Despite the fact that it's a pretty standard end-unit townhouse in a product-of-the-70's suburb in south Guelph, however, it's a place that to me always seemed to be at the centre of town, even though it wasn't downtown.  If it didn't exactly command a cult following (although I like to think it did!), 403 was a place that quite a few people shared quite a few good times.  Right now, as I sit on one of the few pieces of furniture that remain - as the only previous tenant that remains - I can't help feeling a bit nostalgic, recalling that these now-bare walls were many times adorned with Halloween party decorations, that the now-absent DVD player once worked in overdrive spitting out endless episodes of Seinfeld and Friends.  That these now-quiet rooms were once loud enough to spur noise complains from 3 separate neighbors at the same time - and I think that's a conservative recollection on my part!

OK, Tom, you say, what the blazes is up with the sob-fest?  You're like, what, the 100 millionth student on earth to have to move out of his (or her) utopia of bachelorhood (or bachelorettehood)?  Go on, pull your heart strings by cooking one last box of KD, or go stare in amazement one more time at that gargantuan weed that's managed to grow up to 5 feet tall in your "backyard".  Then, move on man -  move on to a different life that will bring it's own pleasures, even if they are somewhat more civilized than the spontaneous mischief that characterizes universitydom.  

If these are the thoughts that are going through your head right now, you are fully justified in having them.  It seems kind of silly to me that I'm reminiscing so much about my time here - it was, after all, only 3 years, which isn't a huge portion of 22.  Hardly enough, one might think, to justify an overly verbose, nauseatingly poetic blog posting.  As I think about it a bit more, though, 403 Scottsdale really does represent a significant milestone in my life.  There were definitely a lot of "firsts" for me here, whether it's cleaning a toilet (reserve judgement: I was the vacuum man in my childhood!) or learning after-the-fact that putting a can of already-opened spaghetti sauce in the fridge guarantees certain regression to a vegetable state, and eventually death (as a flaming hypochondriac, I'd like to thank Shane and Alex for that heads-up once again).  When it's considered that this is the place where my procrastination skills were honed to perfection, where I learned to play poker, and where I got slightly addicted to prime-time TV, it becomes obvious that 403 has been absolutely central to my development into a responsible, mature young man.  Indeed, a stage of life that everyone should get to experience!

As much as I'd love to continue blibber-blabbing, I should probably get back to work.  I'll probably be at it for the rest of the day - it takes a long time to figure out how to dispose of 50 thumb tacks without turning your hands into swiss cheese, or decide what to do about a pile of worthless Latin American currency sitting on your dining room table (even if there's 10 thousand Costa Rican Colones to the dollar, this cheap ass can't bring himself to throw them in the trash!).  Next time I blog, it'll be from my aunt's basement - don't laugh,  she makes a better bloody apple crisp than you could hope of pulling out of your bachelor oven - in downtown Guelph.  A whole new life in a whole new part of town, as it were.  

Cheers,

Tom

I came across another lemonade stand...

...and this time, I didn't think twice.  Nuff said!

More soon, hopefully this weekend.

Cheers

Tom

Road hockey, lemonade stands, and the art of being a kid

Have we lost it? In the age of video games, organized children's sports, and gated communities, I'd argue that if we haven't yet reached that point, we're well on our way. I'm convinced that it's been a pretty drawn out process; looking back to my early days, although I had my fair share of mischevious fun as a tyke, I still feel like I was pretty cooped up based on what I've heard first hand from my parents (my dad riding his bike a kilometre to the beach - barefoot and shirtless - as an 8 year old), read in books (think Tom Sawyer), and seen in movies (not only did those midgets in the Sandlot spend their day hanging out in a creepy abandoned lot, they had a sweet treehouse to boot!) I recall a recent conversation on this topic with my mom, in which she expressed a certain amount of regret for being what she called "overprotective". The 80's, she explained, were a decade where it was the vogue thing in parenting to tighten the noose, and in this regard she admittedly rode the wave. Despite growing up in what was the relatively rough-and-tumble neighborhood of Downtown Kitchener, however, I feel like they gave me chances to scrape my knees, and certainly didn't bar me from countless games of urban hide-and-seek. This considered, I feel like I experienced more freedom than your average city-bred 6 year old in 2008.

Occasionally, I see kids out-and-about doing things sufficiently independent (or mischievous) enough to constitute an "art of childhood", at least in my mind. Case in point: I was inspired to blab on about this when I came across a couple kids selling lemonade on the side of Scottsdale Dr. a couple of hours ago. Now, you've gotta understand how awesome I thought this was - it's something I always wanted to do as an older kid in Haliburton, but was somehow convinced by my parents that revenues may not cover costs on a side street in a town of 1400. I remember at the time thinking this was bollocks - cmon, even a stupid 10 year old on an allowance of 2 bucks a week isn't intimidated by the overhead of running a juice stand! Heck, considering how cool I thought these kids were, I don't know why I didn't buy a cup, if only to encourage them to keep on living life on the wild side. I guess a few fleeting thoughts went through my mind, i.e. I had cheaper juice at home, and there's always a possibility that two innocent 9 year olds dissolved cyanide into the stuff they're trying to sell. Both indicative, ostensibly, that I'm somewhat enslaved to societal notions that I outwardly claim to oppose.

The occasional encouragement aside, however, I really believe kids are being deprived of the freedom to become the independent-minded, ambitious, creative risk-takers that our society needs if it's not to fall into perennial mass paranoia. I'm not exactly sure what's to blame: over-protectiveness, for one thing, surely must count for something. Although I'm usually a big supporter of the media's role in the world, I think they've played a negative part in convincing parents that there's a modern-day Jack the Ripper on the loose, only this time he's a pedophile and instead of living in England, he resides right around the corner. Civil authorities certainly haven't helped either; although it might be insensitive to question the need for "Amber Alerts", I'm sure they've influenced parent's reluctance to put that little velcro wrist-leash into storage (anyone else remember those?). On an even broader level, I think the way that we view family as an institution also increases the likelihood of over-protective tendencies. Although children have obviously been the most important part of their parent's lives since time immemorial, I feel like we're increasingly falling into the trap of viewing them as possessions, and subsequently focusing on the pleasure that we, as adults, can derive from loving them, instead of caring for their needs simply for their own sake. This perhaps causes the 21st century parent to worry about the short term dangers of letting their kids experience adventure and independence, without taking the long term consequences of over-protectiveness into account. That's a pretty bold statement, I know, especially coming from a guy who's never even come close to having a kid (yes, I really am that much of a square). But I feel there's a certain degree of truth in it.

Of course, as a good liberal arts student, I also have to place a certain amount of blame on suburbia. Before you skip this paragraph out of prediction of it's anti-establishment, socialist rant, however, hear me out - I think that a good deal of the 20th century notion of what it means to be a kid has been developed in the 'burbs. After all, in what other type of setting can you find such a large concentration of young families, and thus huge amounts of kids? Suburbia was largely developed in the 50's as a result of demand from war-tired couples for a quiet, convenient, safe place that they could raise families, and it's largely from this type of community that we conjure images of kids playing road hockey in cul-de-sacs, and balloons hanging off of letterboxes indicating an open-invitation birthday party. I think there's an important distinction that needs to be made, though, between the suburbs that my parents' generation grew up in, and the ones that are sprawling over old farmland today. Most important in this regard has been the rise to popularity of the dreaded gated community. Imagine the amazing impact driving in and out of a cast-iron gate, attached to ten foot tall, two-foot thick brick walls, every day must have on a kid's outlook on the world! If that's not an impediment to the development of broad-minded, globalist mentalities, I don't know what is. I remember visiting one of these places in Dallas a couple of years ago, and feeling like I'd just entered a world made entirely of stale bread. Just recalling the experience causes a little bit of bile to emerge from my esophagus.

Alright, so I've thoroughly expressed my view that gated communities are evil fortresses of paranoia, sectarianism and isolationism. However, I think that even the less defined, more integrated subdivision setups (i.e. the ones without spiked walls and security guards) are straying down a similar path, albeit in a less extreme sense. I'm not sure how widespread this is, but I've noticed that many communities have started appointing governing bodies of sorts, kind of like the resident's councils that you see in condo complexes. From what I understand, these committees agree on regulations that are legislated to apply to all of the members of the particular community, such as maintenance standards, noise rules, etc. Anyways, I remember reading in the Guelph Tribune last summer about such a community that had just passed a regulation that prohibited kids from playing games out on the streets, whether it was tag or road hockey. In reaction, I remember thinking "what the crap?!?" Although the perpetrators of this absurdity claimed that it was for the safety of the kids, the details of the circumstance - as well as the comments of some of the parents that opposed the rule - made it clear that they did it because they saw the kids as a collective nuisance; disturbers of their quiet, mature, adult lives, if you will. I think this is a great example of how the ideas of convenience, order, and safety that originally motivated the development of subdivisions has mutated into an ugly embodiment of selfishness, monotony and paranoia.

As usual, I started writing this blog with no idea whether I'd end up making any sort of cohesive set of points. I do write these things as much to get my own thoughts in order as to share them, however, and I think I can identify a few key themes that have become apparent, if not leapt off of the screen, regarding the "lost art of being a kid". Firstly, geography is a factor, as is isolationism, including the disparity between different parts of towns and cities (i.e. inner core and suburbs). More important, however, is the stupidity of us adults in general, and some parents in particular, for thinking that kids are to be protected from all forms of potential evil, and fawned over for our own pleasure. I'm definitely not saying that this is a universal phenomenon, but I think that if we examined our own view of family, and the identity that we derive from our loved ones on an individual, emotional level, we'd at least see flickers of it in our psyche.

Alright, I'm done. Maybe I'll head back to that lemonade stand, and see if the tykes are still peddling their goods. They are, after all, doing their part to stop the madness.

Haliburton: little town at a crossroads

So, I'm nearing the end of one of my increasingly-routine weekend stints with the fam up in Haliburton.  For anyone who doesn't know, Haliburton is the little hamlet in Central Ontario that I spent most of my childhood growing up in - since I was 7, to be exact.  For those of you who are Ontarians, you may recognize it as the place you once visited when you were invited up to your ex-girlfriend's brother's best friend's uncle's cottage; if you don't, it can be sufficiently described as like Muskoka, (surely you've heard of Muskoka!) but without the pervasive presence of Corporate America and snobby celebrities.  It's really quite a nice little place, with an emphasis on little: the village of Haliburton that I live in (to be distinguished from the larger general area of Haliburton that most "citiots" associate with the name) has a population of around 1500, growing at about .003% per year (statistics courtesy: myself).  Heck, even the region is so small that Blogger keeps putting that little dotted red line underneath it every time I spell it (no, wise webmaster, I did not mean to say that I lived in a "halibut").  

So, you get the picture - Haliburton is small.  In fact, there's only one semi-major intersection in the whole town, and until I hit high school, it also contained the only set of stoplights.  Despite this singular minor road junction, however, I perceive the town as being at a major cultural-socio-economic crossroads (how's that for a literary device?  Good ol' Mr. Cooper would be proud!).  As I already mentioned, it's in the heart of "cottage country", meaning that during the summer the population skyrockets, with boat trailers and Ford Expeditions clogging streets that probably haven't been widened since the horse and buggy became obsolete.  Unlike many other tourist towns in Central Ontario, however, Haliburton has maintained a genuinely "local" feel, partly characterized by the absence of big-business franchises (although this is slowly changing: a nearby village, Minden, got the first Tim Hortons in the county a few years ago, thereby rendering unnecessary the 1 hour journey one had to take if they were jonesin' an Iced Capp).  More significantly, I've always gotten the feeling that Haliburtonians have a unique character, whether you consider their (or our - I continue to experience an identity crisis as to whether I, an immigrant to the region, am a true "Haliburtonian" or not) mannerisms, the slight twang in the accent, or even the extraordinary capacity to know the name of at least half of the people they see when they go downtown for a loaf of bread.

In my opinion, this distinctiveness - or even identity, I suppose - has proven to be positive in some ways, and negative in others.  I think the positives are by far the most salient.  For one thing, everyone needs a unique place that they can call their own, with it's own characteristics, features, and oddities.  I feel that Haliburton (as a region) more than provides for this need, not only in itself as a whole unit, but also in that it can be subdivided into sub-units that people identify with to an even greater extent.  For example, I was always known amongst my pupils as one of the few kids who actually lived "in town", whereas others had to be bussed in from all over the county.  When asked where in the region they live, people almost always identify with a general lake or road area (i.e. "I live on the Harburn Road" or "I live on Drag Lake"), kind of in the same way as someone in Toronto will say they live at Bloor and Bathurst.  Living in Guelph, in contrast, I don't get nearly the same sense of loyalty to a community or area.  Obviously, interaction with neighbors is naturally more common in contexts where there is this sense of belonging, which is another plus.

For all of the positives intrinsic in identifying with a community such as Haliburton, however, I think there are some less-obvious challenges.  Broadly speaking, I think a certain unhealthy rural-urban divide continues to be perpetuated, where small-towners are alienated by people from the city, and vice-versa.  Undoubtedly, this can be partly attributed to ignorance on the part of tourists and cottagers, who despite spending all of 15 weekends a year in the area, often act as if they own the place.  However, from my experience, some locals often view people from the city with a good deal of suspicion, and can even be downright mean (the term "citiots" that I jokingly used previously wasn't used very jokingly when I first heard it a couple of years ago).  Although I feel living in Guelph for four years after growing up in Hali has given me a perspective on both sides, I still can't quite figure out what the source of these types of differences is.  And it really bothers me, since I have some great friends from both contexts, and am convinced that both demographics are made up of mostly good people.

This rural-urban divide - which I think must be fairly universal throughout Canada - has pretty big implications for a town like Haliburton.  I mentioned earlier in a poorly thought out pun that Hali is at a type of "crossroads".  What I'm referring to is the uncertainty as to the place that Hali has within a broader cultural, social, and - most importantly - economic context.  It's undebatable that tourism is what the town has going for it economically, but in order to fully cash in on this potential, it's likely that certain unorthodox decisions are going to need to be made.  For example: although ideas such as eco-tourism may be scoffed at by some within the region, it has be recognized that in an age of global warming and rising oil prices, traditional  recreational activities such as motor sports are becoming less and less affordable and desirable.  Financially, certain steps need to be taken to invest in the attractiveness and "quaintness" of the towns (Haliburton and Minden, notably) themselves, even though this may involve the municipal government and local business owners making short-term sacrifices, such as cutting into savings or taking out loans.  This is essential if the region is going to be able to compete with big-name cottage country brands such as Huntsville and Parry Sound, regardless of how big of sellouts these places are (ouch!) ;)  Just as in big cities, a certain degree of central planning is also needed regarding the town layouts and property development, in order to make sure that investments being made contribute to greater long-term prosperity (read: Tom doesn't agree with the five-storey old person condo building being build down by Head Lake!  Sorry, small town politics rant).  Of course, to focus on tourism as the primary agent of economic growth means that animosity and opposition to a greater presence of urbanites needs to significantly recede - a tough pill for many from Haliburton to swallow, considering the high horse that the Southerners tend to often ride in on!

Looking back on this posting, I think it's one of those pieces that I wrote in order to process some thoughts that were whirling around in my head.  Not really sure how interesting this type of stuff is for non-small towners, but hopefully it gives you a bit of a perspective as to the differences that exist between living in the city, and living in the country.  The issues regarding environmental impact, financial investment, and central planning are all hot-button in Haliburton at the moment, so they've been forefront in my mind (my old man actually just got into a bit of a vocal sparring match with the reeve over the said condo development - pretty funny to hear him rant about it over dinner!)  I'm sure Jill Brown (fellow Haliburtonian who has the pleasure of also living in Guelph, and thus constantly hearing me rant about happenings in our stomping grounds) would appreciate a break from hearing me out (so graciously, I might add), so if you ever want my two cents on live in Hali, just bring it up!  

Cheers

Tom

Where's our focus?

As anyone who's every casually followed American politics (in my opinion, the only way to follow them and stay sane) knows, the evangelical right always keeps itself within an arms length of major proceedings, such as election campaigns.  From what I can tell, the recent Democratic nomination was no exception, with conservatives slamming Barack Obama from all sides on religious issues ranging from speculation that he's a Muslim (because that would be a real outrage, wouldn't it?) to some ill-advised comments made not by him, but by his pastor.  John McCain has also recently come under fire for his comparatively "progressive" (gasp!) views on things such as the environment and abortion.  Of course, from a purely secular, civil point of view, the Christian right, as a citizen's lobby, has every right to express it's political views (just as the arms lobby does - note that just because I recognize their right to speak, doesn't mean I agree with the amount of influence they're allowed to yield in governance).  Even if, from the outside, the American electorate appears to consist largely of incompetent morons, democracy gives them the right - in the words of Henry Mencken - to "get (what they want) good and hard".  

The Christian right's democratic allowance to express its views, therefore, is not what I'm concerned about.  I'm not even going to delve into the issues that guys like Pat Robertson and the late Jerry Falwell brought up - if you want a summary of the perennial pro-life - pro-choice joust, tune your TV to run-of-the-mill 60 Minutes or Larry King Live programming.  What I'm increasingly skeptical about isn't the issues that the Christian right is concerned about, but rather the one's it isn't eager to address.  From a biblical perspective, the priorities of leaders such as Dr. James Dobson are often way off base from where an influential Christian leader's efforts should be concentrated.  Simply put, why is there so much Focus on the Family?  Don't get me wrong - as an institution, the concept of family is addressed on numerous occasions within the Bible, notably in the Paul's letters.  However, the family unit has somehow become the central focus of the most visible representatives of Christianity in North America (maybe even the world), with issues such as poverty and social injustice somehow deemed the domain of liberals and the occasional evangelical counterculturalist (i.e. the Ron Siders and Jimmy Carters).  Furthermore, dialogue has been further concentrated by limiting the breadth of topics deemed relevant to ensuring the maintenance of "family values" to issues such as homosexuality and abortion, consequently rejecting important issues such as the impact of individualism and materialism on our children.

With these concerns in mind, I decided to lug out my trusty Strong's concordance (the utilization of which is as much of an arm exercise as one of the brain), and do a topical index search for homosexuality.  Perhaps surprisingly to some, Nave (editor of the topical index) only identifies 12 instances where the issue of homosexuality is addressed in the entire Bible; moreover, a few of them are contained within the same general passage (e.g. Leviticus 18:22, 20:13).  Although I may be wrong, I don't believe Christ ever specifically addressed the subject (also suggested by the absence of a Gospel reference in Nave's account), although he clearly touched on related issues such as sexual morality and healthy relationships.  

This is in stark contrast to the amount of emphasis the Scriptures place on topics such as poverty and social injustice.  With another glance at Nave, I find that the list of references under the heading "poor" is exhaustive, taking up close to an entire column in what must be pt. 6 font.  Although the results for "injustice" were more modest, there were still more than twice as many references as there were to homosexuality.  Purely out of curiosity, I also did a search on "family".  Despite there being a bit more than half a column of references, the first specific that I noticed was the editor's disclaimer that "the concept of the family in the Bible differs from the modern instutution", presumably as a forewarning to the fact that many of the passages had little relevance to ideas of "healthy family" that Westerners seem to occupy themselves with.  Granted, not all of the references under "poor" dealt specifically with material poverty; the abstract idea of "spiritual poverty" is also touched upon.  However, close examination of the listings reveals that the vast majority of the passages deal with material poverty.

Obviously, this doesn't even come close to being a complex hermeneutical examination of these subjects.  However, the involvement of Christians in politics - and social issues in general - has, at least in my mind, become more of a forefront issue amidst all of the US election hype, so I figured it would be good to provide some food for thought.  And not just for people in the US: to identify the disproportional preoccupation with issues such as homosexuality as being a problem contained within the American evangelical community would be unwise, given the weightiness of these issues in Canadian electoral politics and social activism.  I'm not sure how much these issues come up in other democratic contexts around the world, but I'm sure that in many cases the attention paid to them is significant.  Overall, I'm certain that if followers of Christ are going to be the "salt and light" that Jesus says we're to be in Matthew 5, we're going to have to stop ridiculously confining our attention to a few issues, and be at the forefront of the battle against much broader causes of evil and injustice in the world today.

Wow, that was far from being the longest blog post I've ever written, but I feel like I just ran a marathon.  I'm going to go drink a big glass of milk, or orange juice, or whatever I can find in my parents largely grocery-deficient kitchen (guess that's what happens when there cease to be puberal youths raiding the cupboards 24 hours a day).  My current state of unemployment, coupled with the fact that I'm starting to grow bored with Tiger Woods PGA 2008, means that I should be blogging more consistently over the next couple of weeks.  So keep an eye out!  Have a great weekend!

Cheers

Tom

Back to the real world

Cover letters, resumes, PlayStation 3 - this is the extent of my life right now.  Sad, I know, but it's hard to get an entry level job in the field of international development!  For one thing, much-touted job search sites like monster.ca and workopolis.com are of hardly any use at all, since they cater mainly to people who are looking for jobs that normal, responsible folks have, like nurses and cable TV technicians.  Just leave it up to UofG to turn me into some sort of counterculture idealist with delusions of employment grandeur!

Luckily, things have started to gather a bit of momentum, if not exactly fall into place.  I have a phone interview with the director of a small NGO on Monday, which I think has the potential to go very well.  From the little I know about the position, it's one that would allow me to start working in the area that I love; that's everybody's true American Dream, isn't it?  Whether it puts a tin roof over my head and a bowl of granola on the table, is far less certain.  I'll keep you posted.

So, now that I'm back in a part of the world where - for better or for worse - nothing exciting really seems to happen, I'm forced to start living vicariously through bbc.com again.  Although I suppose I should count my blessings that I'm not in a few parts of the world at the moment; here's a few tidbits that I found interesting / disturbing:

"Iran discounts 'attack by Israel'"

First of all, let me just say that this is absolute madness on a number of levels.  Firstly, I'm with Iranian officials in believing that there's absolutely no way that this happens, especially given the continuing uncertainty of the country's nuclear ambitions.  Sure, they've been pretty sneaky with the International Atomic Energy Agency inspectors, but there's still not a sufficient amount of evidence suggesting arsenal buildup to justify a preemptive strike.  Even if we find out that they do have the bomb (which, in all honesty, wouldn't surprise me), there's no way that the US allows Israel to start what would undoubtedly be the most destructive war of the 21st century thus far.  Not going to happen, especially - I'm somewhat sad to say - with Bush on the way out, and a new bunch of politicians trying to get into the good books of the electorate.  After all, American domestic politics does seem to have as big of an impact on international events as any brand of geopolitics.

Secondly, this is absolute madness in that if it did happen, it would undoubtedly be the most destructive war of the 21st century thus far.  I guess I got ahead of myself a little with that one, so I'll move on.  

"Mugabe condemns opposition 'lies'"

By claiming that his party isn't responsible for violence against the opposition MDC, and stating that "only God" can remove him from power, in the same breath, Mr. Mugabe is really upping his credibility.  Not.  It's obvious that he's only making passive attempts to convince an increasingly wise world that elections in the country aren't being rigged, but his claim of divine right really makes him out to be a clown.  Seriously though, the prospect of MDC leader Morgan Tsvangirai pulling himself out of the running really scares me.  If this were to happen, it would essentially constitute a defeat of people-rule at the hands of authoritarianism, and perhaps set a precedent for other struggling democracies throughout the world.

How is this situation going to be remedied, and an environment conducive to the democratic process be created?  Given the scale of the violence directed towards MDC supporters by Zanu-PF hands (see video link on website for an example), a peaceful resolution from within the country is probably not going to be reached.  Outside intervention of some kind is needed, although this is perennially easier said than done.  I'm not totally up to spec on what type of initiatives are currently in place, although I heard something about the EU issuing some sort of resolution against the Mugabe administration.  Gordon Brown (UK PM) has issued numerous statements condemning Zanu-PF, but as far as I know nothing has really come out of them.  From what I understand, South Africa is being far from assertive in encouraging a free vote, although to their credit they must be engaged in quite the balancing act between democratic ideals and regional stability at the moment.  I sure as hell know that sanctions aren't the answer; it's already evident that the ruling powers don't give a damn about the welfare of the average Zimbabwean Joe, due to the implementation of oppressive economic policies.  Inflation is through the roof, and sanctions are only going to cause more people to starve.  Despite the common flaws of multilateral intervention, I'm convinced that a UN resolution is crucial if the crisis is to be resolved.  Only when Mugabe and his thugs come under international pressure - as a result of a common resolve, which only the UN is equipped to facilitate - will he be forced to back down.  Regardless of it's failures, the UN has shown the ability to act with intentionality (i.e. 20 000+ troops headed to Darfur), and it needs to do the same here, although I'm not sure in what capacity.

I was going to comment on three stories, but that last commentary got a little out of hand.  Hopefully people have realized that the blog isn't dead post-Asia, and will offer up their comments on some of the subjects I've addressed.

Cheers

Tom

Photos up on Facebook

You'll probably have to read that a couple more times, in order to process it. So go ahead, take a minute.

Done? OK, well I assure you it's true - I've actually started uploading photos from my trip! Seeing as I have no desire to do it twice, I'm only going to post them on Facebook, and not on this blog. If you haven't added me already, the email I use for Facebook is tabel@uoguelph.ca (don't worry, I won't stalk you unless you're really good looking). If you don't have Facebook yet, give into the urging of The Man, and complete the sale of your soul. The photos will be worth it!

Cheers
Tom

Tearing up...

"Aww, isn't that sweet! Tom's getting sentimental about the fact that he's leaving a part of the world that's grown close to his heart in the last 5 months! I really love it when a guy can show his emotions like that..."

Took the words right our of your mouths, right girls? Wait, you mean the whole "sensitive man" approach isn't all that Hollywood cuts it out to be? Dang you, Toby McGuire, and numerous other not-so-manly-man-actors that I've been modeling my moves after since early adolescence! Dang you!

OK, so that was perhaps one of the more bizarre fabricated dialogues that this blog has seen. Might as well go out with a bang - this is my last installment in the Orient, after all (I've determined that the occasion also justifies my use of over-exotic colonial vocabulary). Flew into Delhi late last night, and my long, predictably grueling flight to Toronto will commence at 2 AM tonight, if all goes to plan; something that I shouldn't take for granted, however, if I allow my first impressions of Indira Gandhi International Airport to generate some broader conclusions. Piece together every tidbit I've written in the last 5 months on the general state of Indian infra structure, and use your imagination to paint a rough picture of what I'm talking about.

Luckily, my air arrival at Delhi wasn't my first impression of India (although my arrival at Chennai airport, which wasn't a whole lot better, was), and I had a whole lot of good memories rush back the second that I stepped out of the terminal. During the taxi ride to my guesthouse - with the pollution-riddled air rushing into my face, and mid-20s local dudes laughing and pointing for no apparent reason at the white dude in the back of the minibus - I really did have a bit of an emotional moment. I realized that despite my unforgettable experiences in SE Asia - Thailand, Laos and Vietnam - India remained the place that I felt closest to, most at home.

I think India has a strange way of making foreigners feel at home, compared with other countries. All of you that have traveled in India, hear me out: I assure you that this statement is not an indication that I'm currently high on opium. Sure, it might seem like an absurd claim at first, considering the fact that India can be one of the more uncomfortable places to travel, in general. The lack of western amenities, which are more readily available in places like Thailand, is an example of a factor that can occasionally alienate a foreigner from the Subcontinent. It's a country that can be really inhospitable at times, and can thus thus pose a challenge for even the most weather-beaten backpackers.

However, I regard this lack of "hospitality", in the widely understood sense, as being contributory to the "homely" feel of the country. By forcing you to adapt to the culture and grim-and-bear scenarios and conditions that you may feel a bit uncomfortable with (i.e. squat toilets), I think India is actually inviting you to become part and parcel with it, as opposed to remaining a semi-detached tourist. Kind of like being immediately invited to sit down and socialize at the kitchen table of a family you just met, as opposed to the well-groomed, but comparably impersonal, parlour room. I really get the feeling that I've experienced the "real India" more so than any of the other countries that I've been in, and not only because I've spent more time here. Looking back, I really appreciate this, and hope that this blog will inspire others to visit India, and experience the genuineness that it's people show towards tourists, if we let them. OK, so they'll show it towards them whether we "let them" or not. It's all good!

I'm going to run - I'm jonesin' a masala dosa for breakfast, and I'm going to meet up soon with a couple of Swedish guys that I've been constantly running into at random intervals throughout the trip (this type of occurrence is certainly one of the joys of backpacking). Despite my imminent departure, I won't by any means be shutting down this blog anytime soon - keep checking in the next couple of weeks for some follow up posts! Specifically, I have a feeling I'll write a little bit on my feelings towards the whole idea of "backpacking", as well as fill ya in on what Ontario will have presented me with upon my arrival.

Cheers,
Tom

Continued neglect

is what my blog has been suffering from as of late. If you were expecting some sort of opening-up regarding parental neglect, don't worry; Mom and Dad did a splendid job making me their object of constant attention. Although it would have been nice if they heeded my calls to add another morning of the week onto the sweet-cereal allowance (no doubt my inevitably suber-cyber-savvy kids will track down this blog in 2030, and use it as evidence for hypocrisy charges).

Anyways, getting back to the blog neglect issue. I have no good excuse this time around, as usual. I recently spent a week on a beautiful tropical island that's quickly embodying modern tourism's ideal synthesis of "natural paradise" and "modern convenience", so needless to say, net access was readily available. Feelings of guilt and betrayal of my sizable fan base spurred me to promise myself that I'd write another blog by the time I got to Delhi, which was originally scheduled to happen late this afternoon (Thursday, June 5th).

However, apparently even Bangkok's spankin' new Suvarnabhumi International Airport (say that five times fast!) can't perfectly handle the "76 flights an hour" it boasts ("Tom, you're such a nerd! How did you know that?!?"), as evidenced by the fact that my flight to Calcutta was cancelled. As usual, however, Jet Airways came to the rescue, and within 5 minutes of me running all panicky to the check in desk after a quick glance at the arrivals screen, they'd booked me into the also spankin' new 4 star Novotel airport hotel for the day, as well as placing me on the direct flight to Delhi tonight (which was to be my final destination anyways). I just finished ravaging the complimentary breakfast buffet (which was huge), and plan to imminently hit up the artificial jungle paradise pool complex. Dang those late flights!

Anyways, I'm out of time on the net. I'll post my final trip blog tomorrow (tear).

Cheers
Tom

Good Morning Canada!

Very early, in fact; by my rough calculations, around 3:39 AM Central Time, exactly the time in the afternoon that it is here. If you haven't figured out where "here" is yet, I'm sure that Robin Williams (a regular reader of this blog, I'm sure) would be inclined to place you at the butt end of one of his stand-up routines - purely out of spite - if he found out. To fully ensure that this remotely possible event doesn't happen as a result of you asking me "Tom, I don't get it - where the junk are you?" in the comments section, I'll be straight up with it. I'm in Vietnam, the land of conical hats, naggy "xe om" (motorcycle taxi) drivers, and more tour bus sightings on average in one day than there are people in the Prarie provinces. I've been here since May 9th, and other than a very testing border crossing experience from Laos (a topic for another day, as I'd like to stay in a good mood), it's been a jolly good time.

However, I'm not going to reflect on it today. To my loyal Vietnamese reader demographic: don't take it personally, this has nothing to do with personal political leanings, the annoyingly tall and skinny geography of your country (makes for quite a tally of bus hours getting from point A to B!), or the fact that you gave me warm beer at the noodle stall last night. It's just that I've had a bit of a revolutionary last couple of days with regards to my personal philosophy and direction, and I'd like to let you in on a little bit of it.

I've decided that I'd like to write a bit about richness, poorness, and the relationship between the two. Again, this has nothing to do with the fact I'm in Vietnam; I've been to quite a few places in the last 5 months where I've seen more poverty that I have here. It's just that a series of recent events in my life have forced me to reconsider my place in the world in relation to others in a new way, one that I wasn't able to learn in the classroom. I gained a lot of theoretical knowledge during my time in uni, and also garnered alot of passion for social justice causes, such as human rights and poverty issues. However, the fact that I've technically been done school for almost 2 months - eerily rendering me more removed from academia than I've been since I was about 4 - has caused me to think things over a bit.

As you may know, I like school. As you may know also, I like school largely because 1) it often incorporates a good deal of discussion and debate about things that I care about, and 2) it generally involves quite a bit of reading and research, both things that I enjoy. Over the course of the last month or so, I've been applying to internship positions with various NGO's that, if I got into them, would involve me continuing to do the things that I have loved about school, only in an actual developing world environment (a huge plus) where I don't have to pay anything (another huge plus). For some reason (pride and cockiness probably has something to do with it), I assumed that I'd be accepted for at least one of the five-or-so positions that I applied for, or at least be short listed. Apparently, however, I haven't been quite as much of a shoe-in that I thought I'd be (although it's possible that a couple of the organizations could still get back to me, quite a bit of time has passed since I began submitting applications).

Unsurprisingly, this initially left me in a bit of an uncomfortable state. Generally, I'm a pretty hard worker when it comes to things related to school and other employment, and thus I'm not used to being rejected for things that I put alot of effort into (in this case, these internship applications). However, an even bigger contributor to my discomfort has been the "what next?" factor. I'd been planning on applying for these internships for the past two years or so, and pretty well assumed that they'd take up the better part of my first post-graduation year. As I already inferred, I almost viewed them as a type of continuation of my education - a "stepping stone"to grad studies, if you will. Overall, the prospect of not participating in one of these internships this year has kind of thrown me into the dark. Luckily, however, when you're in the dark, you see flickers of light that you might not have otherwise.

On to the richness, poorness, and the relationship between the two (note: I'm using these terms in a wholly economic sense this time around). Lately, I've been reading a book called "The Irresistable Revolution" by Shane Claiborne, which essentially addresses the relationship between the Christian church (meaning not any building, but rather the body of followers of Christ) and the rest of the world. More specifically, he spends a good deal of time discussing the interactions between economically rich people in the world, and economically poor people, and has inspired a good deal of thought on my part regarding this relationship. With Claiborne's help, I've come up with a bit of a rough model of three broad groups of rich people (read: those of us not living in poverty) in the world, categorized depending on their interactions with poor people. As I outline these groups briefly, please don't think that I'm trying to judge anyone; I'm going to insert myself into this scenario towards the end of the blog, andmy position isn't exactly overly virtuous.

Firstly, there are the people that don't care about the poor at all. For whatever reasons, whether it be apathy, social Darwinism, or pure ignorance, they have chosen to act as though poverty and injustice in our world do not exist, and thus feel no need to address them in any way. Luckily, I know very few of these people, so I'm not going to spend any more time writing about them. If you're one of them, I'd urge to seriously consider whether your worldview needs a big makeover.

Without conducting any comprehensive surveys or mathmatical calculations, I've assumed (pretty safely, I think), that the majority of us belong to the second category - that is, people who care about those who are suffering in the world, but really don't make that much of an effort to change the system. My conception of this category has been largely shaped by some personal study of the gospel of Luke that I've been doing, as well as my reading of Claiborne. I think lots of people make contributions to the improvement of the lot of the poor, through initiatives such as giving money to charity, volunteering short -term at places like homeless shelters and food banks, and devoting years to studying how poverty can be alleviated. In this sense, they are contributing, but contributing to what? Sadly, in my opinion, just as much as these types of actions contribute to a betterment of conditions, they also contribute to the proliferation of a system of divide between the rich and poor. As Claiborne says in his chapter entitled "The Economics of Rebirth", we have got into a habit of "brokering services" to the poor, wherein we do things like tithe, donate used clothing, or sponsor a child. A lot of the time, we contribute in this way in order to keep the poor at a distance, while at the same time easing our consciences. I know that for me, studying international development has served as this type of a "buffer" at times, in that it has made me feel involved in the cause of the poor, while allowing me to stay safely on the sidelines. In Claiborne's words, this type of "client" (the poor) and "provider" (the rich) relationship creates a system where "rich and poor are kept in separate worlds, and inequality is carefully managed but not dismantled".

The third category consists of people who have become one with the poor. These people realize that it is not enough to merely try to alleviate problems within the current context, but to overhaul the ways that we interact and live. With the help of the Bible, and more recently Claiborne, I've formed the opinion that in order to be one with the poor, one needs to alter their worldview on very basic levels. Just as Christ considered himself on the same level as prostitutes and tax collectors (considered real crooks back in the days of the Roman Empire), we need to do this also. For many, this means placing less emphasis on things like money; for others, like myself, it means reaching a new level of humility, where degrees and credentials don't elevate me to another level. When this mindset is achieved, we can truly start sharing in the poverty of the world's less fortunate, and fight it alongside them. For some people, this could involve a total lifestyle change; however, as Claiborne puts it so clearly, it often entails "redefining vocations", a process in which people use their everyday skills and expertise to serve the poor through direct interaction. I'll leave it up to your imagination to think up some ways that that could be achieved.

You may be asking, "Tom, how the heck does this relate at all to what you were telling me at the beginning of the blog?" Well, I mentioned a couple of times that I've felt very comfortable in academia, and have looked forward to extending my stay in that realm indefinitely. Although it has created a good deal of passion within me for issues such as rich-poor divides, economic exploitation, and other forms of injustice, it has also effectively secured me in the second category of people that I was just talking about. Don't get me wrong: tons of people are invovled in academics and servanthood with the poor at the same time, and have worked tirelessly to eliminate the alienation that impoverised people have been experiencing since before anyone can remember. However, I personally haven't done this sufficiently. Perhaps, if I end up being selected by one of the last couple NGO's I applied for an internship with, the experience will involve activities that help me to work towards the third category. However, I'm also becoming aware of the opportunities that will be open to me if the next year doesn't go exactly as I foresaw - totally disconnected from academia and the "comfort" offered by institutions. Now don't read all of this as meaning that I'm done with school - I have just as much of an intention to hit up master's studies at some point in the next couple of years, cause I love that stuff!

Again, I want to emphasize that I didn't mean this to be judgemental or provocative in any way, shape or form. It's just an expression of some ideas that I've had in the last few days. Someone may confront me and convince me that I've said something wrong - if I have, I apologize in advance. Please, as always, feel free to heckle me in the comments section (or on Facebook, a medium that an old friend recently used for the same purpose!). It probably wouldn't surprise you by this point that I would recommend you read "The Irresistible Revolution" by Claiborne (Zondervan, 2006). Although I far from agreed with him on every point (bits of theological and economic reasoning that I take exception to here and there), the general idea that he's trying to get across is very important, and the book also makes for a funny and entertaining read.

Cheers,
Tom

P.S. For the record, I actually wrote this post over two days (probably about the same amount of time it would have taken you to read it, if you had made it past the third paragraph!). In addition to it's sheer length, which was eating away at my final evening in Nha Trang before heading to Saigon, I needed to do a bit of re-reading of Claiborne's stuff, to ensure that I wouldn't misquote him, or get my own ideas mixed up. I guess I didn't really have to tell you that, but I thought I would anyways.

Does Australia have the expression "no worries" legally trademarked?

If not, the Lao People's Democratic Republic should seriously consider picking it up as their tourism ministry slogan. Sure, the name might sound imposing: "People's Democratic Republic" hasn't exactly been synonymous with "one heck of a fun time" throughout the 20th century. However, the Laotians definitely know how to chill, and this characteristic definitely seems to rub off on whoever ventures off the beaten tourist track, and finds themselves in this landlocked beauty of a country.

Now, you must understand that "beaten track" is a wholly relative term, that I'm using in order to contrast Laos with places such as Thailand. The town that I'm in now, Luang Prabang, definitely has its fair share of obnoxious package tourists, as well as a good deal of self-righteously-proclaimed "low impact" tourists such as myself (is it grammatically acceptable to have a three-word-conjunction? Oh well, someone has to shape the future of our language, right?) But it's definitely not Bangkok, and away from the "major centres" (also a relative term), there seem to be plenty of opportunities to actually see Laos for what it is.

Which is a major reason that I drastically changed my travel plans, substituting my previously-anticipated trip to Cambodia with a gallivant to *drum roll*.....

Vietnam!

Cambodia would have been awesome. It really would have been. The fact that I was going to meet up with my lovely friends Anna and Lauren there, and will now have to wait an extra two weeks or so to cast my gaze on their stunning countenances, crushes me. But the simple fact is, if I left for Siem Riep in the next couple days as originally planned, I would be flying out of this country without seeing any of it, other than a well-manicured tourist town and the sights obtained on a boat journey where I was surrounded by Westerners chugging back Beerlao, rice wine and a variety of other unidentifiable fermented beverages. This way, by traveling to Vietnam over land over the course of a couple days, my intellect not only get the satisfaction of becoming acquainted with Laos from a less-touristy standpoint, but my vomit also gets the satisfaction of becoming even more acquainted with the side panels of a Laotian bus.

OK, so maybe the second part isn't so desirable. But it will all be worth it, I'm sure! The history-geek side of me will also be getting a bit of a treat, when I visit the "Pathet Lao" caves near the Vietnam border in Vieng Xai. Essentially, these are a group of caverns where the fledgling communist revolutionaries hid out during the 1960's, while the US was bombing the beejeeves out of eastern Laos and western Vietnam to try and dismantle the Ho Chi Minh Trail network. Apparently, the caves are in pretty good condition, still aren't very popular with tourists (read: not crowded and dirty), and overall constitute a fairly high "cool factor" (I'd give them a 9; I'll let you know if it's a letdown). As a whole, I expect Vietnam to have quite a bit of war history fodder to chew on, so I'm pretty pumped about that.

Other than the basic observations that I just made about it being awesome and laid-back, I'm going to leave my general analysis of Laos until later, as I'm sure I'll have more to say in a week or so. One topic I can touch on now, however, is that of the country's famed national beer, "Beerlao." This brew, which is highly-touted throughout SE Asia, is overall a pretty decent quality chug - far better, in my opinion, than anything that Thailand has to offer. Even more notable than it's quality, however, is the overall influence that it has in this society as a whole. It's popularity amongst the locals is understandable - you can pick up a 660 mL bottle for as low as 10 000 kip (approx. $1.20), bringing a whole new meaning to "buck a beer" (660 mL bottle!!!). It also has great economic significance; I was reading the national English rag "The Vientiane Times" yesterday afternoon, and on the front page there was an article highlighting the mid-year government budget report, in which overall gov't revenues after 6 months were pegged at about 3.4 trillion kip. A couple pages later was an article on the Beerlao brewery (a state-owned industry), which highlighted that with annual revenues of around 500 billion kip, the brewery constituted a "considerable source of income for the government." I'll say! If you assume from the first figure that yearly revenue is around 6.8 trillion kip, that means that the booze accounts for more than 7% of total government revenue! That's probably more than the CRTC makes off of the Red Green Show!

Wow, that was a somewhat more lengthy analysis than I originally intended. Pretty interesting insight, though. Maybe the Canadian government should consider nationalizing Molson and Labatt, in order to get more cash so it can subsidize crappy "national identity" television even more (baaaaammmmm!!!) I realize the fact that I just insulted the Red Green Show probably just cut my readership in half; however, sometimes the truth just needs to be stated.

Anyways, I'm going to go - to be honest, I didn't really want to spend the time writing this blog initially, as I've been on the computer for hours in the last couple days completing applications for internships funded by the federal government (oh, the irony!). But I really thought I should get at least one blog in while I'm in Laos, and since I highly doubt the Pathet Lao's 1960's-era Local Area Network will still be functioning in the caves, this is probably my last chance to be "wired". More once I reach Hanoi.

Cheers
Tom

Same Same

Actually, my time in Thailand has been anything but monotonous - I just thought it was a fitting title, seeing as that's probably the single most widely used English phrase by native Thai speakers. Seriously, they even make t-shirts that simply have the words "Same Same" on them, and I'm sure they sell like hotcakes. Don't even get me started on the gold mine of hilarious/witty t-shirts that this country is...the guys from www.randomshirts.com should take a trip down to Th Khao San in Bangkok on their expense accounts, and take notes.

* It wasn't my intention to endorse randomshirts.com, and I maintain that this blog exists for non-profit entertainment purposes only. However, if you knee-slappin handsome geniuses of t-shirt designers notice this blog and decide to cut me out a royalty cheque, you can find my address in your order database.

So I've done quite a bit since my last blog posting, with the most notable events being about a week split between visiting Chiang Mai, the second biggest city in Thailand, and Pai, a hippie backwater mountain village that is probably the 5,690th biggest city in Thailand. They were both pretty groovy in their own ways, but overall I preferred Pai, due to the "getting back to nature" appeal, as well as the bohemian live music scene. I actually just left there this morning, and spent almost an entire day buses, although it didn't really seem that long due to the "effectiveness" of the Thai-manufactured generic anti-nausea tablet that I took before I set off. FDAA approved? Somehow I doubt it. But I'm OK...at least for now.

Anyways, I'm now in a little town called Chiang Khong on the banks of the Mekong River, which at this point also forms the border of Thailand and Laos. If all goes to plan, I'll have crossed into Laos by tomorrow morning, and will be on my way to Luang Prabang on a riverboat. I've heard mixed reviews about this journey - some say that the scenery and general serenity is unbeatable, while others I've talked to have implied that it's the most boring, uncomfortable thing that they've ever experienced, and that I'd be better off to take an 8-hour minibus (I've been on enough of them to realize that the latter group must have really hated the boat ride).

OK, I know what you're thinking right now: it's been 2 weeks since Tom even made an effort of over analyzing an ideology, geographical location, or wholly irrelevant subject that he's come across. You are very correct, and I'm going to continue to abstain from this action for tonight, for a couple of reasons. Firstly, I've been giving my brain a bit of a break as of late, and therefore haven't engaged in a whole lot of mental tooth-picking to speak of. More importantly, however, this internet cafe is swarming with wholly harmless by extremely annoying bugs, both big and small, and I really can't stay still any longer.

So I'm not going to. I'm assuming Laos has the Internet by now, so you can expect another post in the next week or so. Hope all of you students out there are satisfied with your exam results, and have settled nicely into your mind-numbing summer employment. Same goes for all of the lifers that might be reading this blog. To all of my faithful readers that are retirees (undoubtedly the only ones that have time to actually get through one of my typical posts) : keep it real.

Cheers
Tom

A Passage to Thailand

So, the title of my blog has officially become outdated. However, due to the confusion that a title change would inevitably cause, and considering the possibility that this might somehow upset my loyal fanbase (all two of you), I'm going to maintain the status quo. Just be aware that I won't be spending any more than 2 more days in India during the current trip; the rest of it, besides my final departure from Delhi, will be spent touring in Thailand, Laos, Cambodia, and a possible little beach jaunt in southern Vietnam.

Speaking of that - I just remembered I've been promising a brief run-down on my tentative itinerary for the last couple weeks. Well, as a preamble I'll emphasize that it remains just as subject to change as it was when I first mentioned it. So, if all you gambling fiends (you know who you are!) are placing bets on where I am anytime in the next couple months, and are "cleverly" basing your wager on the following rundown, don't be too generous with the odds you give to your opponent.

I'm already about 5 days into my trip, having stayed in Bangkok with my friend Sarah since Monday. Bangkok was fun, although according to Sarah, I'm a huge square and pretty well failed to partake in the rockin' good times that the town has to offer (probably pretty accurate). So I won't spend much time on that, other than mentioning that 1) the city is massive, 2) there's a crazy travellers-gone-wild district called Khao San (surely butchered that spelling job) that resembles Wasaga Beach x10 in Asia, and 3) there are some pretty sick temples (see photos). This morning, I left for the ancient capital city of Ayuthaya, which is where I am now. I checked into a groovy-little guest house called Tony's Place, and then spent the day riding around the town on a bike that I rented for about a buck (don't worry Mom - I assure you it didn't have a motor). I saw some cool museums and ruins, and booked a train ticket to Phitsanulok,which is nearby to another ancient capital city I plan on visiting. Man, my plans sound exhilerating, don't they? I bet you wish you were travelling with me, so you could get your name in the Guinness Book of Records under the category of "most monotonous temple visits within a period of 4 months". What can I say - I'm a bit of a history buff.

After Phitsanulok, I'm off to Chiang Mai, which is in the extreme north-west of the country. Apparently it's a big city in the middle of the mountains, so I'm planning on using it as a "base camp" for a few days, as I make day trips to check off the Lonely Planet reccomended destinations in the surrounding area (don't worry, I plan on ripping out the "temples" page in order to resist the temptation). By the time I leave Chiang Mai (probably around April 26th or so), I'll visit a few smaller towns in the north, and probably go on a couple overnight guided treks in the mountains.

I plan on crossing into Laos around May 1st, and taking a riverboat down the Mekong River to the town of Luang Prabang, which seems to be a highly-reccomended destination. I plan on spending about 1 1/2 weeks in that country, and then I'll fly down to Cambodia on about May 12th-13th. By this point, I plan on meeting back up with some friends from the India semester, and we'll do some sightseeing in Cambodia, and spend the last week or so on a beach somewhere, possibly southern Vietnam. After that, I'll likely catch a flight from Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon) to Bangkok,where I'll get my flight back to Kolkata, and finally make my way back to Delhi to fly home.

Basically, I might as well have got the 12 year old internet cafe attendant to write that last paragraph for me - his gibberish probably would have been just as close to how my plans will actually work out. Speaking of that little Thai squirt, he's asking me in the typically polite Thai manner to get the heck out of his store, because it's closing. Those pics will have to wait- I'll try to get them up in a couple days. I'm off to eat dinner at a floating restaurant!

Cheers
Tom

The Kolkata Special: An entree of India, with a starter of Britain and globalization on the side

This is it: my last night in India (until I come back to catch my flight home from Delhi, that is). I was going to post last night, but it had been one of those days that India and I just weren't seeing eye-to-eye, and I was pretty worn out by the evening. Happens frequently enough; on this particular occasion, it was a combination of 1) my being antsy to get to Bangkok, 2) a crappy hotel room, and 3) me walking through a very Indian marketplace, crowded of course, being laughed at by everyone I ask "do you know where I can find a mosquito net."

"Where can I find a mosquito net?" Not exactly SNL material, but whatever tickles your funny bone I guess. Plus, this is India - 95% of what happens (and what is talked about) in the bazaar is totally beyond a Westerner's understanding.

All of that considered, I didn't really give Kolkata (Calcutta, for all of you politically-incorrect neo-colonial bigots) much of a chance on my first day. So, I woke up this morning determined to soak in whatever it had to offer. The day started off well: I took my first ever human-drawn rickshaw to Park Street (tourist / middle-class Indian hotspot) and had a half-decent filtered black coffee (always a nice touch!). I then proceeded to the local YWCA, and attended a church service that I'd been invited to by someone I met in the same coffee shop. Henry is a British guy doing some very interesting-sounding work with young adults and street kids in the city, and he played in the worship band of the small congregation that gets together in the good ol' Christian Association (imagine a church service happening in a YMCA / YWCA in Canada in this day and age!) After the service, we hit up a cute little all-day breakfast joint for bacon and eggs, and parted ways after visiting the Oxford bookstore, where I naturally gave into the temptation to buy yet another book that I probably won't read while I'm here.

I'm starting to identify this as a bit of a problem I have. No need for the room with the padded walls quite yet though, I don't think.

Anyways, it was almost 2:00 by this point, and there was quite a bit I still wanted to see. Now you all know how much I love recapping the things that I've done in the day, so you probably wont' be surprised that I'm going to cram it into the next 3 or so sentences. I took the Metro (French for subway) down to Kalighat, which is the site of Kolkata's holiest temple...

"Wait a minute, Tom: what the heck does Kolkata have to do with France? If the nearest French-influenced town is Pondicherry (see previous blog) 1500 kms down the coast, why is Kolkata's subway called a Metro?"

Good question: I think the answer is something along the lines of "shut up, stop asking me questions about things I don't understand, and don't interrupt!"

As I was saying, I went to Kalighat, Kolkata's holiest Hindu temple. Due to the fact that I've seen more temples than you can count on he goddess Devi's hands (see photo), I admittedly wasn't that driven to see the monument itself. Rather, I was on a mission to find Mother Teresa's hospital, which I'd heard was in the area. Sure enough, it was directly beside the temple - according to my trusty Rough Guide, the blessed Mother set it up here intentionally, so she could serve the sick and dying that came to the temple for their last rites. I could probably write a whole blog on the little that I've heard about Mother Teresa, so I won't elaborate any further. Basically, it was a really neat experience. After that , I backtracked on the Metro to the Maidan (really huge central park), and checked out the famous Victoria Memorial (rather impressive monument the Colonists built to remind themselves of their own greatness). I then went back to my slum-of-a-hostel, satisfied with what I perceived as a pretty productive day.

Now for what I'm sure is the much-anticipated analysis. From my very-limited point of view, Kolkata differs from Delhi in that instead of being a city that shows glimpses of it's past in the midst of globalization, it's a place where western culture still very much seems like a visitor in the Indian household. OK, so maybe globalization is a bit more firmly planted than that; there are just as many KFC's here than any other big Indian city. It's just that the billboards perching ominiously on the tops of 19th-century buildings still feel very out of place, and when one takes a stroll in one of the bazaars, it seems as if things must be the same as they were 40 years ago. Kind of hard to explain - I just got that vibe.

Ironically, despite it's Indian-ness, Kolkata has deeper roots in western influences than your average metropolis on the Subcontinent. The British started building it in the early 18th century, with the military enclave of Fort William central to the plans. In this sense, it's one of the newer major cities you'll find over herel although it feels like it could be hundreds of years older. The British feel coincides with the Indian culture in a strange way - everything that's old in the city feels colonial, giving it a kind of ghost-town feel in this sense. Don't get me wrong, though - it's just as alive as any other Indian city. The western influence just doesn't feel as strong as in Delhi, despite the fact that Delhi's a much older city, with a much more indigenous heritage.

Unfortunately, it doesn't look like I'll be able to get a fill of either Mumbai (Bombay) or Chennai (Madras) during this trip, making this an incomplete series of commentaries on two of India's four metropolises. Maybe one of you will get to those places sometime soon (Jenn - Chennai???), and can add on to what I've started.

As you might have already picked up, I'm leaving for Bangkok tomorrow morning! I know that I promised a detailed itinerary, but this posting has dragged on as it is, so I think I'll leave that for next time. Signing out from the Subcontinent, I'll talk to you from Siam!

Cheers,
Tom

First edition of the "Finish Tom's Post For Him" game! (A "Tom's Too Lazy to Write His Own Blog Post" initiative)

Aaarrrgghhh......

(Use the "comments" function to finish my thought! Wohoo, this'll be fun!)

The respective psychological states of Tom and Delhi: a comparison

I've been in a bit of a daze for the last few days. It's pretty hard to describe, but I'd classify it as a mix of restlessness and lack of motivation. Most likely they're complimenting each other, due to the fact that they probably originate from the fact that I only have about 2 weeks left in my undergraduate career. So close, but yet still so far: two essays to write in English, along with three exams within the same number of days. It's kind of driving me crazy, and consequently I've found it hard to sit down and firmly commit to getting things done as of late - kind of like a "fit of indecisiveness".

Luckily, this weekend was relatively free on my schedule, and I was able to experience a change of scenery via a trip to Delhi with Jared and John. We've only been here for a day (took a night train and arrived at 6:30 AM), but already I've recieved a good deal of consolation from this city with regards to my recently-emerged character traits, as previously described. You see, just as I've been unable to settle down and make up my mind as to what I'm going to do to be productive, I feel that Delhi is a place that is equally scatter-brained as to its purpose within the country of India, and in the world as a whole.

I think that throughout history, people (very scholarly individuals, I'm sure) seem to have had a tendency to associate human qualities to cities (personification). OK, so maybe Frank Sinatra's referral to New York as the "city that never sleeps" hardly qualifies as a literary device worth of a Nobel Prize in Literature, but you get my point. Well, in light of my recent mental state, I've been inspired to classify Delhi as a city with a touch of schizophrenia, that just can't seem to get it's own identity straight. On one hand, it's a place where people are thought to have lived for thousands of years - most notably, the Islamic occupants of India used it as their capital for the better part of 500 years, firmly establishing it as a place of political centrality and importance. Culturally, however, it's always been a place of diversity, with a number of religious and thought systems being interchangeably dominant over the centuries. For example, Hindu religion and culture, while being the dominant philosophy in the area up to the 12th century AD, was somewhat superseded by the Muslim and British hegemonies that controlled the area in the following 900-year period.

Independence in 1947 firmly re-established Delhi's place at the centre of Indian politics, culture and society as a whole. As far as I can see, it continues to maintain it's traditional role as a political centre in 2008 - in this sense, it's identity is confident and established. However, as I toured the city with my friends on foot and in rickshaw, I noticed that Western culture had gained a firmer foothold here than in any other place I've seen in India so far. Whether you look at the GQ-esque styles that youths are modelling, or the American magazines on display in high-end boutique plazas, it seems that Delhi's definitive role as a centre of Indian culture is disintegrating. Alternatively, maybe it never was a place where a distinct Indian culture was showcased - perhaps it was the stronghold of a type of syncretism, where different traditions from different places came and synthesized into the closest thing that this country has ever had to it's own definitive identity. Either way, Delhi, like myself, is unsure of itself - political centre of one of the world's next great superpowers, sure, but cultural protector against the infringement of foreign ideals? Not quite so confident on that one.

Anways, enough of that philosophizing; I'm not going to edit the past few paragraphs in any way, shape, or form, out of fear that they will make absolutely no sense, and thus represent a half hour totally wasted. I'd like to dedicate the last bit of this blog to a much more important subject - namely, the awesomeness of my host family in Jaipur, the Mathurs. They've been absolutely wonderful, and have made me feel at home to the extent that I feel like I've been there for the majority of the semester, and not only a mere month. Not only is their house huge and beautiful, and the meals excellent, but they have treated Jared and I like sons, and have even accomodated some of our friends on occasion, whether for a single dinner or room and board for an entire weekend. Forget the Taj Mahal and Fort Jodhpur - the memories that I'll really retain from this trip will be of this house, and people within it (Yogesh, Delilah, Anjana, Ruchika, Cheeku, Reena, Neehal, Anita - you know who you are, please forgive my spelling!)

Increasingly bad grammar and utilization of spell check indicates that my 4 hours of sleep on the train last night is losing it's ability to sustain my consciousness; therefore, I'm gonna jet. As I said earlier, exams are coming up quickly, so I may only get one more post in before I leave for Thailand on April 14th. Although it may be a short post, I'll try to get up my itinerary for the next couple months, in the very least.

Cheers everyone,
Tom