Life without a computer

Want to know what life is like without a computer? I am going to tell you, but please forgive me if I leave out question marks or make other grammatical mistakes. I simply cannot find an English keyboard around here and it is virtually impossible to get one in Costa Rica unless it is a special order. I returned the computer I bought last week because even though it could cook breakfast it did not have an internal microphone or video!

I remember when I taught at Thornlea,probably in the 70's and early 80's, Mike Lieberman gave us an hour lecture on what life was going to be like in the computer age. We sat sceptically then as he described e commerce, communication and telecommunication. Who knew how right he was going to be. Who could believe it? Thirty years later I can and do.

God knows who is using my computer now, but I hope some kid who didn't have one before. Maybe it will change his whole life as it has mine. It is hard to imagine not talking to people anywhere in the world whenever I want. What a pain.Even in Costa Rica, I use Skype to phone my boss because more often than not the cell phone does not work in my house anyway.

I also miss my girlfriend a great deal, but that is another issue. Rosetta Stone is no longer with me and I have to face this world without daily Spanish lessons. However, I am actually reading the paper everyday and trying to watch television in Spanish but that is very difficult because television here is exactly the same as it is in North America, because it is North American! As much as I would like to learn Spanish, I can't bring myself to watch these lousy programs.I am starting to watch American football because they are broadcast in Spanish, but quite frankly it is difficult to understand because of the specialized vocabulary.

Another interesting point, for me anyway, is that it is easier to read the equivalent of the Globe and Mail then the Sun, for example. I guess the Nacion is better written and there are more contextual clues than in the country 'rag' It is almost impossible for me to read and undersatnd apaper lik e the Inquirer. I would have thought it would be far easier but it is not.

Back to the computer. I guess I am used to instant communication with the world and without the comfort of that 'feeling' I am at a loss or at least feel like I am at a loss. When I had my computer and Internet connections, I really felt at 'home' wherever I was. When Sylvia and I were in South America, we use to call Daniel to ask where to eat dinner in Buenos Aires or Josh to say happy birthday. We were never out of touch with our children, the news, and anything else we wanted to be in touch with!

Needless to say, all of my workshops and materials were also on the computer which made my life easier. I have done so much professional development work over the past few years that all I have to do is press a few buttons and ala kazam, I have a workshop. Next week, I have a week of workshops and I will actually have to do quite a bit of work preparing them. I better publish this now because if I don't, who knows when I will have access to a computer again?

The run-a-way ferris wheel

I proved yesterday that you could get sick on a Ferris wheel. I went to a fiesta in Santa Cruz yesterday, about an hour from where I live. A fiesta in a two week party where Costa Ricans dance, drink and then dance and drink some more. If time, they might ride horses, jump in the ring with the bull or take their kids to the games area. The equipment in the games area is so old you would think they were antique and could be seen in a museum. How harmful, I said to myself, would it be to go on this kid’s Ferris wheel for a few turns of the circle? Well I found out. When I got off I had to find a piece of grass to lie down on for an hour or so. The guy put me in, cranked the wheel to get the Ferris wheel moving (probably after years of neglect) and then went to sleep, literally. I was yelling for him to stop, but he was way too far gone. I bet I was on that sucker for thirty minutes before he woke up and not only was I going in this circle, but the seat I was in kept swinging back and forth.

And if you think that is bad, you should see the rodeo ring. I would love to show you a picture, but difficult to do without a camera. There was a huge ring in the middle of the town that was obviously put up for this occasion, by the same guys who are doing the drinking and the dancing I suppose. There had to be a thousand people in the stands, hundreds more underneath and you could literally see the ring tilting to one side. I could not even get in if I wanted to because it was literally packed to the rafters. Where was the department of health and safety or are they only concerned with yellow fever?

Actually people did seem to be having a lot of fun . I saw a parade with weird clowns that looked medieval, hundreds of horses that probably came in from all over Nicoya, old cars ( which they probably actually use on a daily basis), and guys throwing some kind of candy into the crowd.

I am going into San Jose tomorrow to hopefully get a new passport, camera, phone and computer. My boss did buy me a computer and my only requirements were to have a built in microphone and camera This computer practically cooks dinner, but does not have the above so I am getting a new one tomorrow.

By the way, if there is anyone reading this that can and wants to teach middle school math and science and is available right now, please let me know.

The End of the Trip-sort of

I have been waiting to tell the last story of my South American adventure for a week, since I did not have my computer, but that is another story. I had to go home via Peru on my way to Costa Rica. The day I left, I got to the airport on time, actually in plenty of time, and the guy at the counter asked me if I had my yellow fever vaccination certificate. At that stage I switched from speaking Spanish to English and asked him if he could repeat what he just said. When he repeated it in English I just could not believe it. YELLOW FEVER? What is that? Some disease we talked about in public school? I also told him that I was a Canadian, had been to Costa Rica many times over the past few months and to let me handle the problem. He replied that I had to go to the medical office and get a vaccine. He told me that even if I was Canadian, travelling from Peru, Bolivia and so on the government of Costa Rica insisted on the certificate.

When I asked the doctor about this she said she would be pleased to give me the vaccine but I would then be in detention in Peru for ten days and not able to travel ( presumably because I could very well get yellow fever from the vaccination). I told her to hold off, went back to the desk and pleaded with the guy to let me on the plane and deal with the situation in Costa Rica. He then phoned his boss and without saying a word gave me my seat on the plane. I am not sure whether he discovered he was in error, or the airline decided to honour the ticket and let me worry about the consequences or what but I did not ask. I was afraid he might change his mind. When I got to Costa Rica, I did notice there was a big triangle on the screen and a warning that I might have something but the guy didn’t ask me any questions, didn’t say a word, and just let me through.

In the meantime, I might add, there was a woman in front of me in the line that was seriously sick, had to sit on her bags as we waited in line because she could hardly stand up and could barely make it to the ticket counter. She had no problem getting on the plane, apparently because she did not have yellow fever, I guess.

Unfortunately, this is not the end of the story. On my way to the bus station to go up north, I had my usual suitcase and my briefcase, one of which I left in the taxi on my way to the bus. The one I left just happened to have my computer in it, my camera, my telephone ( which did not work or I would have immediately phoned the taxi), my passport and international driver’s license. Do you know what a pain in the neck it is to replace all of these things? I am finding out. And I thought being quarantined for ten days would have been a hassle!

Toronto the Good

Let me tell you how great Toronto is. The more I travel around the world, the better Toronto looks. The other day in Buenos Aires I was really shocked when the cab driver leaned over and locked Sylvia’s door. The same thing happened to me the week before in Lima where I was looking through my pictures in the front seat of the cab and the cabbie told me to put the camera away because we were going through a bad part of town. My landlady in Costa Rica always yells at me because I refuse to put the bar in place after I lock the glass patio doors. She insists I will lose this computer one day, even though the patio is literally ten feet off the ground and any thief would need a ladder to climb up to it.

I really can’t think of any place in Toronto I would be afraid to travel, night or day. I know Jane and Finch has a bad reputation but teaching at York I was in that area all the time without a problem. I can’t imagine any tourist book saying not to go to a particular area of Toronto because it was dangerous but here it happens all the time. Whenever I want to go to a particular museum or point of interest someone in South America is always telling me it is in a dangerous part of town or you have to pass through a dangerous part of town to get there. There is a cemetery in Lima, apparently, very similar to Recoleta and when I asked what the best time to visit was I was told that it was in an ‘ugly’ part of town. Which parts of Toronto are ugly? I know, I know, it is all ugly but is there one area uglier than most?

In Asia, I can’t remember being told all the time not to go to a particular area because it was dangerous. This was because I did not speak the languages very well or there aren’t any areas where you take your life in your hands or maybe I just forget, but certainly in South American I hear the phrase ‘peligroso’ or dangerous all of the time, no matter what country I am in.

Another great thing about Toronto is we are all treated equally. In Thailand, for example, there is a published price for ‘foreigners’ and a published price for natives. The discrimination is clear. No attempt at hiding it. In South and Central America try to negotiate for a cab ride or a new car. When you do it as a foreigner you get one price. Just try to get an indigenous friend to ask for the same service and you will see what a price difference there is. There seems to be an acceptance that if you are a foreigner you just owe them! On the other hand, being a foreigner is a double edged sword, especially in Asia with its’ colonial mentality. If you are old, white, and have grey hair, and continue to speak only English, you are treated like a god. If you are old, white and a woman, you are not quite a god, but certainly treated better than the native population. If you are white, you get points but if you are in any dark in any of the countries I have visited, you are treated ‘differently’ read second class. That is why Thai woman cover up in 90 degree heat. They do not want to get dark. That is the stigma of the underclass. The same is true in South America where it is also known to be hot.

Talking about women, I know Toronto women have a long way to go in terms of equity or even equality, but compared to the rest of the world, women are singing. In the countries I have visited women are just expected to serve their brothers, husbands and fathers yet do not even have the same burial rights. If you do not have boys, you will not even have anyone to pray for you in places like Vietnam. In Toronto, in my opinion, women can be accepted as womanly and yet still be respected in courts, business circles and places like education. South American woman and Asian women cannot make the same claim from my observation. We must be at least fifty years ahead in this regard.

Man, what am I thinking. I was just about to post without even mentioning the infrastructure where everything works, where you are infuriated if the plumber or electrician can't come the same day, where the roads are a pleasure to drive on, where the schools actually work and don't need security procedures that would put the airports to shame. Wow, unbelievable.And I won't even bother to talk about cleanliness or quality of food or merhandise or service.

Wow, Toronto the good doesn’t sound so bad from afar!

Buenos Aires in a Week

Now that we have been to a few highlights of the city, I think I can further comment on Buenos Aires. First of all, everyone smokes. That appears to be a given and for Torontonians, it is sort of shocking to see people smoke in restaurants, bars, everywhere in fact. Another thing that is amazing is that there seems to be a whole underclass of people that pick garbage day and night. They schlep around huge barrels and go through the garbage of stores and houses picking through the ‘good’ stuff, whatever that is, throw it into their trundle and wander off to their next treasure. We see it everywhere and I presume they are doing us all a great favour by recycling.

Most things happen at night, it seems. We took a bus ( no easy feat) because you have to tell the bus driver where you are going so he can determine the fare and the drivers do not react that well when we tell them we are just on for the ride and do not have a specific destination. Anyway, after we have to pay through the nose, about fifty cents, we drive through the streets and it seems as if nothing is open. Last night, we dropped into a restaurant at the unheard of hour of seven and when we came out at nine and started to walk on the street it was literally a different street. All the restaurants were open, stores, supermarkets and so on. It seems there are two classes of citizens of Buenos Aires, those who work in the restaurants and those that eat in them. You must have spent the whole Daniel in the coffee houses or restaurants reading the paper! By the way Daniel, the cafeteria at the Melba was a great disappointment, although the art gallery was fine and had an Andy Warhol exhibition. Isn’t it great how a Czech immigrant can call himself Mr. America. What a country!

Of course, the city seems to live on music. We went to a tango show at the Tortonni and even though we had tickets, had to stand outside for an hour for the privilege of getting in. When we finally did get in we were so thankful that even though we had last row seats we did not complain. However, it did not seem to stop the other visitors from complaining. I have no idea how the workers in these various establishments take all of the abuse of foreigners or how they can be so inefficient, but life seems to go on.

The cemetery at Recoleta was fascinating as it seems to show how the Argentineans venerate their dead. As you can see from the pictures of the cemetery, each seems to have their own separate mausoleum that are buried deep into the ground and in one mausoleum there were 17 bodies of male descendants. No idea what happens to the females, but I suppose they end up in their husbands families’ tombs. Eva Peron seemed to still cause quite a stir amongst the Bolivians and Columbians who visit her grave on a daily basis and leave flowers. Not sure what the Argentineans think. General Peron is buried elsewhere by the way. What I found amazing was that this is still a working cemetery and in a few hours we saw two separate funerals. I have no idea how the grieving families must have felt to entomb their loved ones with so many tourists in tow. By the way, as you look into the tomb, you can actually see the casket rotting away. The whole experience is quite amazing really.

I guess it rains every Monday in Buenos Aires because last Monday it rained all day and it is pouring again. We were going to go to the delta at Tigre today but I guess we will put that off and stay indoors.

By the way, don’t believe guide books. Our guidebook says not to trust taxi drivers, but that is simply not the case. They have been fantastic in writing instructions, listening to our lousy Spanish and giving us all kinds of great recommendations. They seldom charge us full fare, yet in the guidebooks they are all trying to cheat you. It is nice to be able to make one’s own judgement on things.

Taxis, trains and Portenos

A few words about Buenos Aires. As we look around the city, we both feel we could be home in Toronto. The people look exactly the same and it is frankly difficult to determine the visitors from the inmates. Yesterday I stared and stared at people thinking these must be the tourists, but when they opened their mouth a rush of Spanish came out. The reason is simple; we have the same European roots, even the same timing of immigration waves. There is a huge Italian population just as there is in Toronto that came at about the same time but turned left instead of right and ended up in Buenos Aires instead of Toronto . There is also a huge Jewish population that hangs out in the district of Once that also came during the same timeperiods as Toronto Jews and frankly look the same. I am sure that if I dug a bit Iwould probably discover they are the same. So, when you look around you might think you are in Paris if you look at the buildings or New York if you look at the people shopping but it definitely has a Toronto feel to it which is why Torontonians like it so much I suppose.

When I asked some Brazilians why they liked it, thinking they would say because of its’ vibrancy, nightlife and so on, they surprised me when they said they came here to relax. It is “low key” they told me and they could just enjoy the meals and the music. Wow, what must Rio be like? The restaurants, by the way, do not even open until 8 pm and it is not uncommon for Portenos to start eating at about 10 pm.

I am surprised at how casually people dress for New Year’s Eve. We went down to Puerto Madera last night and just sat on a bench watching people go to their parties. The girls were wearing the fancy dresses and shoes you have already seen in the pictures and the guys were wearing jeans and a T shirt. There seems to be something totally unfair about this state of affairs, but I guess the women are dressing more for each other than the men, I suppose. At midnight last night, you would think we were in the blitz, and those people that were in the London blitz must hate December 31. Rockets were going up all over the city. There did not appear to be a central place for fireworks but everyone had their own and they used them!
They do speak Spanish here, of course, but we have a mutual misunderstanding of each other. In other Latin American countries, "ll" sounds like a "y" sound but here "ll" sounds like a "sh "sound. It is amazing how many ll words you hear when you are asking for directions. They do not understand me and I do not understand them. The taxi driver last nightactually said he did not understand a word I said… Needless to say, he did not get a tip from me. Actually, no-one gets a tip from me because I do not think it is the custom here.

Taxi drivers are generally a riot. We were going downtown with one yesterday during the day and when we were going through Once I asked him what he thought of Jews just to get a feel if there was any anti-Semitism. He just put out a kepa and started laughing. (I guess you had to be there.) Another cab driver with Italian blood ( you now by the hand gestures) told us how much he liked pizza and wine and how he was really going to enjoy his pizza in the family December 31 party. If it wasn’t for the Spanish, which sounds more like Italian and we were just watching his hands, face and eyebrows, we could have been in Rome, ( especially the way he drove). When I asked him, by the way, what he thought of Moslems when we passed a huge mosque, he just shrugged his shoulders, but not in a good way.

Today we are going to head out to a sleeping city, I presume. It is 11 am but I suppose most Portenos will be bed and the stores closed. If Sylvia’s knees hold out we will do a lot of walking today. Happy New Year!