The Farmers Don't Show

Today I am in the cafe and I've reached a conclusion. The farmers in this area are not interested in starting a farmer's market in South Deerfield. I sent out letters to twenty area farmers, hoping to interest them in setting up a town market on Saturdays. I set up two meetings, one on Thursday and the second today at 10 am. I sit in the cafe waiting, in vain, for the farmers to show.

Well as I sat here, I realized that I should give myself a break. I put the flag up the pole but nobody saluted. So I guess this isn't the year that our farm-filled town will realize the dream to have a walking, living, breathing market with fresh vegetables grown on Deerfield farms. For that we will still have to go to Greenfield, or Amherst, or Northampton. Sigh.

Friday in the Big City: Paradiso and Jazz

Northampton is the big city to those of us who live in small towns and in the country. So that's where we always meet, in the big city, and the restaurant that we almost always gravitate to is Pizza Paradiso. Friday night it was cold and windy, and we agreed to meet up with visiting guests.

We met my youngest sister Caroline and her new beau, Peter, and dove into fried calimari, chop chop salads, and a pesto and eggplant pizza. Over Cabin Fever Ale, we got to know Peter, who's visiting here for the first time from Arizona. He's a farmer who raises cut flowers, and he said he wants to move somewhere with a little more water. With a silver mustache and a mischievious smile, he has an easy laugh and a relaxed manner. I can see why my sister likes him.

After dinner, Bill Paul and I walked over to the Basement, where a jazz band was playing a Grover Washington Junior song. A black guy blasted the notes out on a trumpet, and in back the steady throb of the Hammond organ kept up the beat. Only a few of us there actually knew the song, as we did the rest of their set, so we had something to compare the somewhat sloppy riffs to. But the atmosphere was cool, and so was the jazz, and it was nice to hear this old music.

Later on owner Eric Suher popped in and we chatted for a while. Then he took a turn at the piano, playing with the jazz band as the clock turned to midnight.

A Cold Blooded Killer of Birds is On Trial

The Eagle Killer has now faced justice. It's all over the papers, Michael Zak Jr, who we wrote about back when he was arrested, is on trial this week for the downing of an eagle, as well as the cold-blooded murder of more than 250 other birds.

"Hatchery Owner Detested Herons," read today's head in the Republican. His employee recounted how Zak had told him he hated them, and had a name for a tree where the dead birds sometimes landed. The Hanging Tree, they called it.

During testimony, it came out that Zak could have just put up netting, but he thought it would cost $40,000. In fact the state hatcheries cover their ponds to keep out the herons for just about $12,000. Instead, sharpshooter Zak liked nailing the birds using his rifle.

The trial's big question is not so much about the herons as it is about our national symbol the eagle, which federal wildlife officials actually saw him shoot. But now a forensics witness is saying the bullet didn't match Zak's gun. Despite this, the judge looks like he's pretty set on punishing the deed. The trial resumes on Monday.

Speaking to College Kids Makes Your Blood Flow

WOW! I am pumped up after speaking for an hour to a group of 12 Umass students in the cafe. I got a call last week from a professor teaching the journalism course, 'writing for the web.' So I agreed to have them come for coffee.

Two carloads of assorted college seniors (mostly boys) came into the cafe, but only two wanted any coffee. The prof cajoled them and offered to pay, and then they took seats. I launched into a discussion of the topics for their personal websites.

"Hockey blog," said one. "How to get along with your roommates," said another, "The New Umass dorms being built." I commented and gave them my take on their subjects and then the subject turned to how GoNOMAD.com makes money...and how I got to owning it and what we have planned for the next five years. Then we talked about web businesses, books and the future of publishing in print.

The group assembled in the cafe and customers were a bit surprised to have to walk a gauntlet of students en route to the counter. But hey, lively discussion and discourse have always been hallmarks of the cafe.

Drugs Work Better When African Bellies are Full

Last night I read a fascinating account in the Wall Street Journal that profiled Joe Mamlin, a doctor in Kenya and professor of Medicine at Indiana University. He has developed a practice that addresses a simple but often neglected fact--AIDs patients do much better after they get drugs if they have enough to eat. It sounds so strange to a Westerner, but the article recounted how many of the sufferers of AIDS simply wither due to starvation in spite of being given the modern cocktails of drugs that keep the disease at bay.

The concept is simple: They've planted a two-acre vegetable garden on the hospital grounds and the homegrown onions, carrots, collard greens, cabbage and fruit are provided to the patients with their prescriptions. "The standard advice that comes with medicine throughout the developed world--'take with food'--is just catching on in Africa. Dr. Mamlin is pioneering a merger of medicine and agriculture."

One other promising system they've developed is to send patients home with the ability to grow their own food. Kenya's Moi University first gives out the vegetables, eggs, milk and other foods then patients graduate to the Family Preservation Initiative, where they learn skills that will help them grow their own food, or get a job so they can buy food.

One of the most promising crops in Kenya has been the passion-fruit. One man has a pump he calls 'the moneymaker,' it is a Stairmaster connected to a pump, to water his seedlings. "With passion-fruit, every week I make money." he says. "Now I am at peace."

Another patient, who had lost her five children when she was sick, is now feeding them all and is back in business growing passion-fruit. The worker's cooperative they've formed is called Amkatwende, which means 'Rise up, we go."

Summer Down South: New Zealand’s North Island

I am having a photo show to celebrate our one-year anniversary for the cafe!

We are serving cocktails and inviting our regulars as well as our friends. If you read this, you're invited to the party!

Friday April 6, 7-9 pm.
Cocktails, photos, hors d'oeuvres
GoNOMAD Cafe
South Deerfield

A Magazine for People Who Love to Read Obits

I am a regular obituary reader. I always scan them and most of the time I read the whole thing. I am fascinated by what is written about people once they die. My father is famous for many things; one of them is that he's already penned and proofread his obituary and left instructions to send it to the local papers upon his death.

I thought about obits today when I saw a column about a new magazine in the Baltimore Sun by Nick Madigan. He writes, "Driven largely by the internet, interest in obituaries is booming, with a slew of websites and blogs dedicated to the craft, as well as a rise in the emerging field of commissioned obits, in both written and video form, made to order by people who want a say over how their legacy is described. The new magazine will be called Obit, and focus, entirely on these death notices, plus other related topics.

"What's different now is people reading obituaries of people they've never heard of and loving it," said Marilyn Johnson, author of The Dead Beat: Lost Souls, Lucky Souls and the Perverse Pleasures of Obituaries."

There are plenty of more stories to be told. There will be just over 40 million Americans aged 65 or older by 2010, so lots of obituaries to come.

If you’re like me and love to read obits, here ya go….

Obit Web sites

• "Notices of dead folks" is the straight-to-the-point description of a news group, alt.obituaries, that aggregates more than 100,000 obits.

• legacy.com: The site links to the obituary sites of more than 350 newspapers. It includes suggestions on how to place a newspaper obit and create tributes, as well as listings for flower shops and funeral homes.

• obitpage.com: The site of Carolyn Gilbert, founder of the International Association of Obituarists, editor of obitpage.com and a host of the Great Obituary Writers' National Conference, includes a page called Great Obits, with hundreds of poignant examples of the craft.

• marilynjohnson.net: Marilyn Johnson, author of The Dead Beat: Lost Souls, Lucky Stiffs, and the Perverse Pleasures of Obituaries, wrote obituaries for Katharine Hepburn, Princess Diana, Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, Johnny Cash and Marlon Brando for Life and other magazines.

• deathbeat.com: Alana Baranick, obituary writer for The Plain Dealer in Cleveland and winner of the 2005 American Society of Newspaper Editors award for obituary writing, is a co-author of Life on the Death Beat: A Handbook for Obituary Writers.

• obituarywriters.com: Larken Bradley, obituary writer for The Point Reyes Light in Marin County, Calif., is also an obit writer for hire. Her service, Obituaries Professionally Written, provides obituaries for people who want their final story written before death or for relatives in need of death announcements or obituaries.

Cellphones Are Like Icebergs

The Wall Street Journal's Money section had a piece today that made me laugh out loud. It was Jason Fry's reasoning for why he's not ready or interested in the newest 'all in one' phone. He makes sense of our confused gadget-laced world.

"But the list of devices generally heralded as "the Swiss Army Knife of X essentially begins and ends with...the Swiss Army Knife. All the market opportunity in the world doesn't make convergence as easier riddle to solve. Take the Universal remote...figuring out how to use it is so complicated that few users ever master one. You're better off digging for the right remote than staring helplessly at the lone remote.

Cellphones are like icebergs, with a basic function or two visible and everything else lurking below the waterline. And users like me? We're the ocean liners.

Quick quiz: If you're on a call and another call comes in, do you a) cooly answer the new call, then smoothly go back to your original conversation, or b) panic? If you answered b, what makes you think the people who built your phone will be able to make navigating and playing thousands of songs easy?

Paris Follows Lyon and Installs Bicycles to Rent

Up early again for a shift at the cafe. I read the Gazette and found an AP story that was inspiring. Paris has decided to follow the lead of Lyon and install a city-wide network of kiosks for cheap bike rentals. In the months ahead more than 20,600 bikes will be available for short term rental...and the best part is, the first half hour is free! Residents will be able to obtain a card for about $13 for a year's worth of rentals.

"It has completely changed the landscape of Lyon--everywhere you see people on the bikes," said Jean-Louis Touraine, the city's deputy mayor. He added that the bicycle program was meant "not just to modify the equilibrium between the modes of transportation and reduce air pollution but also to modify the image of the city and to thave a city where humans occupy a larger space."

I've often felt this way about our New England cities, that are so dominated by the road. Take downtown Northampton, for example...why do trucks and so many cars have to plow through the busy downtown just as people are all walking and trying to cross the street? Why hasn't anyone ever tried to block the traffic, or at least closed the major part of Main St. so that people could walk and not worry about the cars? If you've ever traveled to Boulder, Colorado, or to Burlington Vermont, (see photo above) you'll see what removing cars does to a downtown. It makes them much more about the people, not the steel and rubber that moves them around.

Burning Megargeeville Signals the Very End of an Era

Last night at Bootstrap Farm, our weekend rental, we burned Megargeeville. This was a choice piece of our past, a collection of little boxes we decorated when we were kids to look like a small city. We had the movie theater, the drive-in, the stores and shops that we called Megargeeville.

It was time to burn it ceremoniously in the fire. We looked over each of the carefully painted little buildings made of cardboard and one by one ignited them in the flames. It is sad but yet better to have a ceremony than to toss it all into the trash.

One sad note on our last day in the house: Three of our paintings were stolen! These were paintings done by Essie's husband Edwin Megargee, they depicted scenes such as the view from the porch in the 1950s, and some other Vineyard scenes. Somebody removed these three paintings before we got here. Sad end, we had promised at least one to the new owners.

One Last MV Gasp---Emptying Out the House

It's ten am on a brilliant Saturday morning, and we're in the ferry line. How many times I have sat in this line, a hundred different scripts could begin at this setting. The Vineyard holds a special place for me and for my relatives, and today we're gathering at the house for a last hurrah. We're saying goodbye to Essie's house and all its contents. But we've still got to remove the things the wealthy buyer wouldn't want.

So we rented another house, and today we'll sort out 55 years worth of collected family stuff, and bring most of it to the dump. The Steamship Authority deserves a major shout out for installing wireless at the terminal. It even works great in the car, where I am sitting while typing.

I've been told that there is a glitch...not a big major bummer glitch, but something that might end up costing us some thousands. A title problem, going back to before our grandmother bought the house in 194. We need people named Mayhew (going back to Thomas Mayhew, original namer of this island) to sign the title.

Well should be a nostalgic and fun weekend, can't wait to see two of my sisters and other cousins of whome I am very fond.

Will the Farmers Bring their Wares to a New Market?

Today's a busy day, and that's the way I like it. So many comings and goings, and so many balls in the air, I'm back and forth between my two offices, skipping across the puddles of the rapidly melting snow. First task of the day was to organize a mailing to all of the local farmers. We are keen on starting the South Deerfield Farmer's Market in May, and this was a call to arms to get a meeting organized.

Since image is important, I wanted to make sure there was a colorful address label and that the letter itself included our GoNOMAD Cafe logo in olive green. For this I had to call in Joe. He helped me download templates for Avery labels and set up a complete folder of our various cafe and website logos, and I am putting together the invitations to the meeting so they look nice and make people want to come.

After we get commitments from at least six farmers, we can roll the ball ahead and plan out advertising, signage, and especially, getting everything set with the town. The location, in a town-owned parking lot near the center, is key, and this is the location that Carolyn Ness, a selectman, had wanted us to consider.

You'll hear about how this venture fares. Right here on Readuponit in the weeks ahead.

Oh, We're Gonna Have a Wing Ding

"Oh we're gonna have a wing ding," sang Donald Fagen,"a summer smoker on the ground,"and thinking about this music makes me think of our Anniversary party. We're going to celebrate our one-year anniversary of the cafe, and the five year mark for our flagship, GoNOMAD.com. There will be cocktails and hors d'oeuvres and many of our customers and friends.

I remember when I lived in Greenfield, way back in the late '80s, and there was an event that I'll always remember. It was at the YMCA, and it was a theatrical dinner party in which dozens of folks entered through a makeshift rabbit hole. Then the production began, and we were brought soup, then the rest of the courses, by costumed actors. It was a coming together that I'm sure many in Franklin County still remember. I think Court Dorsey had something to do with it.

So I am considering many options for this celebration. No rabbit hole, but I do want to make the party memorable. I want to have it at the cafe and in our website offices, and have it turn into an event that everyone wants to be at...Maybe we cook up some food on grills in the back parking lot, and block it all off to cars.

Our party invites will go out soon, and we hope to make this a special night to celebrate these businesses and bring together fun people from the valley to the cafe.

She's Sick and Tired of Everybody Being Nude

In the Scotsman newspaper in Edinburgh, this column was recently published by a woman who is sick of all the nudity she sees in Scotland.

"But in addition to the paparazzi shots of scantily clad stars on beaches, and of savvy glamour models who make an annoyingly large income from selling pics of themselves naked, there's now a growing number of "real girls" happily posing topless.

In this week's magazine, Chrystal stripped to her thong for the "Strip Challenge". Why? Just because. The magazine now has a dedicated message board page filled with pictures from everyday girls happy to show off their bits. Charmingly there is also an "assess my breasts" section where blokes can upload their "lady's boobs" to a breast assessment website which then appears in the magazine.

And then there are our gyms and spas. Well the changing rooms, to be precise. I can't count the amount of times I've been getting changed after a workout only to be surrounded by women strutting about, blow-drying and gossiping without a stitch on, while I hide in a corner facing a locker with my towel wrapped firmly around me.

It seems this rampant nakedness - and our eagerness (and confidence) to strip off - is on the increase. And while I firmly believe we should keep our bodies to ourselves, I'm willing to believe it's actually me who has the problem."

Owl in Taranaki, New Zealand

We walked across a lush green pasture where cows eyed us as we avoided their pies on the trail. The Maori Pa was a fort located in a glen near the banks of a winding stream. Up in the trees, I caught the unblinking eyes of this owl. I shot too many photos, 99 percent of which were the classic digital blur. But this one with photoshop, just works. This forest was in Taranaki, the bulb that sticks out of the western side of the North Island.

Sudoko's Just the Tip of Nikoli's Puzzle Universe

Maki Kaji is not world famous, but his game sure is. You see, he's the math wiz behind sudoko, which can be seen every day in more than 600 newspapers and generates more than $250 million a year....but not for him. The NY Times profiled this shy horse-racing fanatic yesterday and revealed that Kaji's company, Nikoli, grosses just $4 million a year, since they never trademarked the sudoko name and thus don't reap any huge rewards from its growing popularity. But that's ok with Kaji.

"In hindsight, though, he now thinks that oversite [not trademarking] was a brilliant mistake. The fact that no one controlled sudoko's intellectual property rights let the game grow unfettered, he said. They don't plan to trademark any of the many new games they are developing either. "We're prolific because we do it for the love of games, not for the money."

The Times story said that the company has more than 250 more such number puzzles in the works, including games in which lines are connected in snakelike shapes around numbers. Up to ten ideas for new puzzles are supplied each time the quarterly magazine comes out. The original game Kaji gave sudoko means 'bachelor numbers,' in Japanese, referring to the use of only single digit numbers. "We have a lot more puzzles where sudoko came from," he said.

Old School and the Tea Man Come to Call

Two people came into the cafe today, all with new wares for the GoNOMAD Cafe. It is interesting to me being on this side of the fence; for many of my years of working I've been the guy with the pitch and the samples. Now I buy the items for the business--and I like this side better.

First Oliver Rich from Teaguys came to call. Liz our manager is very enthusiastic about teas. She has been talking about getting more teas...and since the Daily Hampshire Gazette published the article about Oliver's business in nearby Florence, I was enthused enough to give him a call. He knows his teas...he spread out their handblended mixes in little metal jars and we eagerly sniffed. In one he puts in chopped up coffee beans, in others, it's raspberry, and tiny pineapple bits, and of course, the hoary teas themselves, pungent, curly, wispy. "We make tea lattes," he told us. "We use an espresso maker!"

So we'll begin including teas from this Tea-Man of Florence next week. We'll buy bags and put the mixes into disposable bags, and advise our customers that they need to remove the bag after two minutes, and give them water that's exactly 180 degrees.
And we'll have a new Tea Menu to solidify our place as South Deerfield's Tea Headquarters.

Then we met with Don Williams, who reps for Old School Baking in Northampton. He left off a huge rack of all of their fine artisan breads. Nice and fluffy, smelling like yeast and sourdough, and with some flourish...like their panini shaped rolls, and luscious raison dark bread. I love bread and these guys know how to bring it. We are gonna use it in sandies, but maybe we can sell loaves in the cafe? We'll see.

Preservation Wins....Despite the Grumbling Naysayers

Last night I almost missed American Idol. I was watching something even more exciting with lots more drama. It was a special town meeting featuring a room packed with Deerfield voters, all listening to a presentation about joining the Community Preservation Act.

Six years ago the town decided that one of main reasons people live here is because of our rural character and unspoiled land. A committee met many times and came up with a plan--and this part of the plan called for a small levy on taxpayers to meet conditions to get matching, or nearly matching state funds.

"What do the assessors think of this??" yelled one man, spearing the air with his finger. Then the head of the assessors piped up and confirmed that nobody had asked him about the levy on the taxpayers to fund open space. Suddenly, it seemed that the rosy scenario laid out by the articulate lawyer in the tie was crumbling. More naysayers got up to attack the plan, and weaken it by levying less than three percent.

But the voters in the seats had all of the facts in front of them. Though the only public comments so far were attacking the idea and trying to tear it down, the reasoning of the majority was joyfully unconflicted. This was a win-win...we'd get matching state funds if we put away a small sliver (average $59 per household) of tax money.

More naysayers, older residents grumbling about their tax bills, stood again to rail against the idea. Even though this meeting was simply to put the measure to the voters, they tried to pass a motion to defeat it. But at the end, the moderator in his three piece suit put it up to vote--and a clear majority raised their right hands and it passed. The next step is a May general election. But it looks like preservation has won the day in Deerfield.

It's Harder To Cover The Endless War in Iraq

Today I got up early to read Editor and Publisher. A story by Joe Strupp discussed how the war is taking a toll on reporters, there are fewer and fewer of them willing to risk IED explosions in Iraq to cover the war.

Susan Chira, NY Times foreign editor said 'Some of the people are cylcling out now and are ready to stop now. They are ready to move on.' Chira said part of this is that the climate is so much worse than earlier in the war. "When I was first foreign editor, people could go out to restaurants, they could drive over land in the country, they could go into Fallujah."

At the LA Times, Foreign editor Marjorie Miller said "we're doing what we are doing, but we wish it would go away. It is a humanitarian disaster and there is the rest of the world to cover. There are other things we might be doing in Latin America or Asia if we were not in Iraq."

The Wall Street Journal's Bill Spindle said that using local Iraqis is getting more difficult. He said the local staff ca no longer go into some neighborhoods. "It gets harder and harder to operate there," he said, "more expensive."

The Boston Globe pulled out completely in 2005, along with closing all of its overseas bureaus in a budget cut, they once had five reporters in Iraq. They lost a reporter, Elizabeth Neuffer, who died in a car accident outside Baghdad. "It it was just costs alone, we would have stayed, said James Smith, the paper's foreign editor.

The Superbowl Prank? Or Superbowl Crank?

Last night, I think I was hoaxed. The joke's on me, just like thousands of others, who read the post on Boingboing.net about the World's Most Daring Prank. Cory wrote hey, it might be worth a click, so I did, and ended up spending 45 minutes reading about John Hargrave's fantastic prank at this year's Superbowl in Miami.

In excruciating detail, the author writes about how he smuggled 2300 lights into the stadium, under the ruse of being a lightshow for the halftime festivities with The Artist Now Known as Prince. Including many photos showing how they met with security, wore special golf shirts and pants, pretended to be working for Pepsi, and how they outwitted everyone and got more than 2000 fans to hold up lights at halftime that they unwittingly thought would spell out the word PRINCE.

I read the thing and thought, damn, these guys are so clever, I can't believe how they got through Level One security to do this prank...and why didn't I read about it in the papers the next day, or why didn't I see all of the lights during the halftime show, which I actually watched? The authors kept talking about the message they wanted people to show, not PRINCE, but something else...that tipped me off that something was not right.

Well it takes the comments from readers on Endgadget to decipher the real truth...and the little tag at the very end of the long story that said 'send this video to a friend and put in your own message.' Too bad I didn't get this until I had read the entire five page post!

Laurie's Rants Provide Ideas for Book Shopping

Laurie Ellis is married to my cousin Shady. They live in Arlington and I see him more than I do Laurie. But the one thing I do enjoy about knowing Laurie is knowing about Laurie's Book Rants.

Here is a quote from a review of a Calvin Trillin novel:

Oh to be loved so well. This is a beautifully written book about an incredible love that death does nothing to diminish. Sad, made me cry, but not depressing. Almost joyful/hopeful for the rest of us? ...to know such depth of feeling is possible. I read it in two sittings, but probably about an hour total. I wanted to save and savor it, but just couldn't stop myself.

She reads more than the average person....it seems like she goes through dozens of books a month. Then she writes short little summaries, sort of stream of consciousness little snippets about what she thought of the book. Sometimes she doesn't finish the books, but most of the time she does.

Today is Cindy's fiftieth birthday. We had a wonderful time at dinner last night with our close friends Jack and Laura, enjoying sea bass and the piano playing of Emory Smith at Carmelina's. A blanket of new snow has fallen, and we slept late and ate french toast in our pajamas. Now we're heading out, armed with discount coupons, to Barnes and Noble. And the first place I went before we left, to get inspiration for our shopping--Laurie's Book Rants!

Lace Almost Died--Then Along Came the Thong

Traditional Polish lace almost met its demise...until sexy thongs, g-strings and other racy undergarments helped bring it back to life.

Today's the AP has a story datelined Koniakow, Poland. "Lace wasn't selling in the quantities it once did, and the tradition was starting to slowly disappear,' said Malgorzata Stanaszek, owner of the KONI-art, a lingerie maker. A friend joked, 'why not make thongs?' and they did.

Now 65 women work at home churning out lace panties, g-strings, and bras for woman all over the world.

"The sexy designs are a far cry from the stodgy doilies, curtains and table runners of the past, leading some residents to view the thongs as a slap against the village’s lace-making tradition.

”It’s really not beautiful at all what they’re doing,” said Joanna Pielka, an elderly woman on her way to church in Istebna. ”Do there have to be so many holes?”

Stanaszek says some older lace makers remain opposed. ”There is a small group of people that is against the underwear, and they will remain that way,” she said. ”But the dispute is tailing off because it’s not as if people are running around in the streets in this stuff.”

”It pays more to make thongs,” said Barska, her fingers rapidly stitching blue thread. ”Table runners take a week to make because of the detail of each flower. Thongs you can make faster.”

Up Early with the Howling Snow

The familiar chiming ring from my son in law's cellphone alarm awakes me at 5:15 am. Outside the wind howls, and the snow has turned to driving little nails, spitting tiny frozen flakes. Francisco was smart to park his car at the end of the driveway, near the road, he's getting up to go to Yankee Candle for six am.

It's Saturday morning, and today I've got to open the cafe. I wonder if anyone will come in...the roads aren't plowed yet. At 5:20 am, my landline rings, and in his thick accent, Francisco answers. The caller hangs up. Seconds later my cell rings; it is Eliza, my cafe worker, who probably thought she woke up some Spanish guy with a wrong number.

"My driveway isn't plowed, and they haven't done the road yet," she said. "Don't worry, I'll get the cafe open, and I'll call you if we need you later," I tell her, knowing that we'll be totally dead and won't need her at all. "We probably won't," I told her. Now I am up and it's only six am. Another New England snow day.

I spent the first half hour of my day here on my little laptop, enjoying the new articles that Steve posted on GoNOMAD yesterday. First I read about Kent's newly rekindled Caribbean love for Nevis then I read Sony's article about Jamestown, and the voyage 400 years ago that opened up the New World, then I laughed reading her blog in which she goes into her accountant's office and gasp, Rush Limbaugh is playing on the radio, and she nearly gags when the secretary endorses the fat old jerk.

(Hee hee I listen to him all the time Sony, but don't agree most of the time!) But I can certainly relate, I've had Rush on in the car and had people lurch for the button to stop stop stop him from raving and I always oblige. I just laugh hard when I listen to Rush because, and liberals hate this, he's funnier than Al Franken and Jean Garafalo, and even though he sometimes is totally wrong, he's always entertaining.

Boy I can just imagine what I've done to my friend Sony with this revelation...I guess I'm redeemed because I just invited her to France for a GoNOMAD press trip!

Arab Comics Teach the World to Lighten Up

Sometimes when I go and visit my 20-something son I get a sense of media from his perspective. And this often means watching Comedy Central. This is the channel that young men of his age are most often tuned into, and the other night they had a string of Arab comics on. It was a special called the Axis of Evil Tour and it was brilliant. WATCH IT

Dean Obeidalia deadpanned about how the next trend with white kids will be to go Arab, like the way they now 'go black.' "What up Arab!, they'd shout. And they'd be eating falafel, smelling like lamb, and driving cars decorated like taxicabs. He also riffed on what it would be like if he changed his given Arab name into its English translation.

"You call up the airline and say, 'I'd like tickets to Vegas, this is Dean son-of-Allah,' and yeah, that would be no problem.". He joked about what it was like to have friends continually ask him stupid questions about the middle east. Like as if he'd know because his parents were Arabs. Maz Jobran remarked, 'just once I'd like to see an Arab doing something good. Like baking cookies, instead of bombs.

Another comic named Ahmed Ahmed joked about life with a name like that. "I can't fly anywhere,' he said. 'whenever I go to on a plane, I always know who the air marshall is, it's always the guy with People Magazine upside down looking at me."

These comedians are more than funny. They are a solution, in some ways, to the strife and problems we have abroad. I think if they played tapes of these guys, it might lighten people up about our differences and help. Really.

Do You Know Where Your Diamond Comes From?

Settling back into our regular lives, I picked up Newsweek and found a story about clean diamonds by Alicia Barney. The 20 tons of waste per 18 karat gold ring and the pollution caused by mining has people talking.

Buoyed by the movie, "Blood Diamonds," these cleaner karats are all the rage...in fact brides and brides to be "have seen an increase in political chatter lately...even women who already have their ring want to find out more about its history," said Carley Roney, editor of The Knot, the wedding website.

"Sales at ecofriendly Brilliantearth.com, which offers 'clean' Canadian diamonds and recycled gold have more than tripled this past year. "We're seeing people that like diamonds, and want to buy diamonds, and have recently learned about these issues," said CEO Beth Gerstein. "It's not just the vegan who does yoga every day."

Greenkarat.com is another purveyor of guilt-free bling. They have a program where seniors turn in gold items donated by friends and family so that the young-uns can make shiny new wedding bands.

Debutante-worthy Headbands on NBA Courts

In the LAX terminal I was happy to pick up Sunday's NY Times style section and read a funny story by Alex Williams about hairstyles in the NBA. She certainly has a way with words describing the silly hairstyles seen on NBA basketball courts.

"But perhaps no recent hairstyle says “adieu, M. Jordan” like the curious “Lord of the Rings”-meets-“Where the Boys Are” hairstyle worn of late by the Grizzlies’ Mike Miller, the Lakers’ Ronny Turiaf, the Sonics’ Mickael Gelabale, and the Bobcats’ Walter Herrmann.

With long flowing tresses pulled back pertly under a debutante-worthy headband, sometimes with a ponytail added for spice, it would look equally at home on Legolas battling the Orcs in Middle Earth or a convertible-load of Tri-Delts barreling toward Fort Lauderdale on spring break in 1960.

Paul Podlucky, a Manhattan hairstylist with celebrity and socialite clients, explained that “headbands are really big for women right now,” but they do send a mixed message on a 6-foot-10 power forward.

“This just looks like an all-girl group from the ’50s, like the Shirelles,” he said of the hairstyle. “But there’s also something white trash in there, like trailer-y. It’s almost comical — and I’m a gay hairdresser.”

In that, they are part of a proud warrior tradition. Historically, long hair was a signifier of strength and virility among Vikings, Celts and Goths, explained Victoria Sherrow, author of “Encyclopedia of Hair: A Cultural History” (Greenwood Press, 2006). Baldness typically indicated low social standing, even slavery. Scalping, once common on several continents, was symbolic emasculation, she said — the “in your face” slam-dunk of the ancient battlefield.

Now, even Mr. Anthony of ESPN, who has worn his head shaved since he squared off against Mr. Jordan in the early ’90s, feels the tug of changing fashion.

“Hey,” he said, “if I could grow hair, I’d probably do it too.”

Nigel Ogle Recreates New Zealand's People

Driving past the grazing cattle on the straight road out of Hawera, we met one of New Zealand's most creative people, busy in his workshop. Nigel Ogle has been in the business of making lifesize sculptures for 25 years. He has created an entire world within the walls of his Tawhiti Museum, where the history of New Zealand is revealed with lifesize figures who look as if they'd come to life if you turned your back.

We toured these realistic scenes two days ago. The first one was a mother cooking dinner with a screaming youngster tugging at her apron strings, and an infant in her hands. Ogle captures the expressions a la Madame Tousauds, but he adds the ditrius and bric-a-brac that makes the whole scene come to life. There are rusty old wagon wheels, boxes of Wheatabix, cans of creamed corn, and dusty old containers of Vegemite.

When we met Nigel, the bespectacled craftsman was hard at work on a prone Maori woman. He was applying her eyebrows with glue and a special type of hair that comes out looking very realistic. There were six other Maoris in the room, all undressed, waiting for the master's finishing touches...they would be sent to a museum display in Riverton, he told us.

While today's Tawhiti museum has many rooms to wander through, he has big plans for an expansion. "We want to tell more stories, like the one about Dickie Barrett, who helped defend a tribe of Maoris he had married into against a much larger hostile tribe. "It was 4000 armed men versus a few hundred," he said, and he pointed to a row of 40 warriors, clad in loinclothes all holding rifles. "Imagine what it must have been like to have four thousand of these guys all coming at you."

There will be a big new building and more of the detailed lifesize and micro sized depictions of Maori Pas, or fortresses, and of the early settlements in New Zealand. He will connect the new building with the Bush railway he runs on Sundays during school holidays, a lifesize recreation and extension of the museum.

Cindy, New Zealand Guest Blogger

This final New Zealand blog is written by a guest blogger, Cindy, aboard Air New Zealand flight NZ6 from Auckland to LAX. During the trip my role has been that of keeping Max organized and on time; there have also been the occasional opportunities to give him a woman’s point of view on what we experienced, as well as times when I noticed little details he might have missed. I took a few photos and will proofread the stories. In fact, I plan to write my own article about the Maori. Stay tuned for that….

Prior to the trip many people told us “Oh, New Zealand is beautiful” so I expected the magnificent panoramic vistas, sheep and cows grazing in fields expanding to the horizon. Our drive from New Plymouth to Wellington took us through little towns that I’d never heard of. The Tawhiti Museum in Hawera provided a stimulating stop along the way. Hard to believe that Nigel Ogle has made all the models himself and chronicles the history of the country from the time of the Maori to the arrival of the Europeans and beyond. This is a must see for anyone with children. Or anyone who appreciates a craft well honed with passion and expertise.

A surprise of the trip was the kinship I feel with the Kiwis. They, like me, descend from European immigrants; we share a common language; when discussing the issues of the day they are all very similar. Kiwis are the most traveled people I’ve ever met. They have a spirit of adventure and a balance between work and play that we Americans usually lack. Our stay in New Plymouth at the Kaitake Lodge has given us new friends in Ross and Forest; our stay at Villa Margarita in Wellington gave us new pals Mark and Margarita. These are the gems of New Zealand…the people who we met along the way. I hope you go to New Zealand someday and meet them too!

Swept Up in the Arms of Villa Margarita

We had a long drive down from Taranaki almost to the bottom of New Zealand's North Island, ending up in the lovely outskirts of Wellington in Pauatahanui. We were late for dinner but no worries, our host Mark was so jolly on the phone he put us right at ease. We had sat through a long traffic jam, worrying again about our late arrival, but when we got to Villa Margarita, everything was bliss.

Mark and Margarita Owen opened their swank modern boutique villa about thirteen months ago. It is set on a sweeping piece of land in rolling hills. When we awoke in our bedroom, one of five in the main house all set in a long corridor, behind the full length glass walls was a stunning vista of miles and miles of mountains and grazing cattle.

Mark is a true renaissance man--he cooked up some steaks, served his home baked bread and after dinner we went down to the music room. There he played Mozart and Beethoven on the baby grand, and treated me to a luscious Cuban cigar. Cindy and Margarita donned wigs and danced to the glorious sounds of the music, and I felt like I was in a movie. The sounds of the Moonlight Sonata and the jovial warmth of the room was bliss. Then we repaired to the movie room where we watched videos with surround sound on the wall-sized screen.

These two are a lovely pair, she a gorgeous latina whose family owned a cigarette company in Miami, and Mark a tall and handsome man with an easy laugh and a background in real estate and now, hospitality. The setting here is very California, modern paintings adorn the walls and all of the fixtures and appointments are first class. They have been entertaining many corporate executives here and earned the Qualmark five stars. They offer guests a two-bedroom villa just up the drive that features a huge clawfoot bathtub right outside the house, surrounded by nothing except windswept fields and cattle.

If You See a Possum, Run It Over!

One thing we heard over and over in NZ was how much people here hate possums. These medium sized rodents (much bigger than their docile cousins in the US) consume tons and tons of foliage in forests and worse, they eat the eggs of the flightless birds. In short, they are a major pest and every Kiwi has a duty to try and run them over or shoot them if they see them in the bush.

Pennie Sands runs Environmental Products, in a converted dairy factory in Mahoe, a little village just off the winding road called the Surf Highway. Here you can find all manner of items made from the skins and pelts of these pests...it's possum product heaven! They make wonderfully soft gloves by combining in merino wool, and jackets using the leather. We picked up some gloves and Pennie showed me where they pin up the hides and dry them. "We tried having this done for us over in Canada," she said, "But it didn't measure up quality wise." Pennie serves a growing market and helps find a use for up to 20,000 pelts that come from poisoned, shot and sometimes run over possums.

Then we met another Kiwi with a passion...Rob Wright of Moano Pearl fabricates jewelry using the natural paua pearls found in the Pacific. The mother of pearl has many uses in his jewelry as well, and outside they have a little collage of the abalone shells mounted on sticks. Rob showed us a pile of pearls that he said is probably the only time on earth you'd see that many of them at once. It was a year's supply, he said.

Rob is another person who loves what he does and takes joy in the creative process and in life here in rural Taranaki. With the view of fields and his daughter's horses outside the window, we can see he's having a ball!

Now Everyone Calls the Mountain Taranaki

Today we awoke to the bright sunshine of the Southern hemisphere, and a full schedule of people who wanted to meet us and share their slice of this wonderful land. The day began at the base of Mount Taranaki, where Greg and Judith Rupapera run Mount Taranaki Adventures, a biking and tramping company in Kaponga. Greg has that same spirit we've seen so often here in New Zealand: passionate about his land, eager to show it to visitors and locals, knowledgable, articulate and doing it on his own. Again and again, these entrepreneurs are the ones who fascinate and inspire us. Greg works a day job at a local dairy, and dreams of the day when his five-year-old trekking business becomes his fulltime job. It will, I promised him, if he keeps at it and works as hard as he can.

We hiked the trails in the bush that led up to Wilkie's Pools, a steep hike aided by steps that are maintained by trail volunteers. When he was a young man, Greg was one of the park employees who lugged concrete up there to form the steps. Today the water in the pools was quite low, it was being diverted into another stream so the pools were quite shallow. Up above, looking over us all was the volcano, and its distinctive shark's tooth crag.

Before we proceeded on our hike, Greg said a prayer to the Maori ancestors to ensure a safe trip and to ask their blessing. He said that recently there was a story in the news about another Maori property being sold off to a foreigner, even though it was still being litigated by the original owner. These issues still cause friction between the Europeans and Maori, although he agreed that things are pretty good between the two overall.

He said that when he was a kid, everyone referred to this extinct volcano as Mount Egmont, as it was named in honor of the Earl of Egmont by explorer Captain Cook. He didn't know that the Maoris had already named it for one of their chiefs. But today even the newspaper refers to the mountain by its original name.

Livin' His Dream on the Water in New Zealand

Greg Page left California 25 years ago and came to New Zealand. After years of running surf shops, he moved to Taranaki and now operates the country's only tandem surfing company, where he guarantees to get novice riders standing up on the long board.

We joined Greg on one of the world's most gorgeous beaches on the Taranaki coast. Wide flat beach, black sand, and endless perfect waves breaking way out from shore. The light was inviting, this shot shows Greg toting the giant two-person board on his head.

Both Cindy and I managed to get on our feet and ride the waves. Some people rode horses here and others rode the waves with kayaks. Greg is a patient and enthusiastic surfer who knows where to find the waves...he even does a morning surf report for a local radio station. As he likes to say, "Hang 20!"

The View from our Lodge in Taranaki

We're settling into our digs at the lovely Kaitake Lodge. Little did we know that we'd have this whole fantastic mountaintop two-bedroom house to ourselves for our visit here to NZ's west coast. The views stretch way, way out all the way to the sea, in between are impossibly green and lush fields, forest and ferns.

The owner here, Ross Henry, said he likes to vacate when he has guests so that newlyweds and others have the privacy they want. He hosted the producer for The Last Samaurai here, and showed the place to moviestar Tom Cruise. But the big guy wanted a bigger place, and asked if they'd build three more bedrooms. Ross said no but got to watch the star's helicopter taking off and landing in a bigger spread he rented down near the beach. Ross practices Gigong healing and offers people a chance to gain wellness through these arts.

Flat Whites, Bare Nipples and a Brain Drain

I often try to think of the best way to summarize a trip. When Kent and I go on travel radio shows, they give us just a few minutes to make points. Likewise, a bunch of people will ask us about our trips but they aren't really that interested in hearing more than just the bullet points. Below are some random musings to answer these queries.

*Dresses and skirts are everywhere here. In the US, even in the summer, you just don't see that many women dressed to look like, well, women. Here skirts, dresses minis and maxis are everywhere. Even the little girls dress up like this. It's a good thing.

*Sexy actress Juliette Lewis is in Wellington this week playing a gig with her rock band. I swear we passed her walking alone in the Auckland airport. The city paper included a photo of Lewis, shirtless holding a giant bow and arrow, with a visible nipple. When Janet Jackson dared to bare her metal-ringed aureole during the Super Bowl in 04, a volcano erupted. Here it's just another photo in the paper, and a shrug.

*Drivers are kind here, nobody honked at us even when we were navigating the many roundabouts, driving like little old senior citizens. No honking, no worries, no hassles. We love it.

*It's easy to get a flat white (like a little latte), a well-made cappuccino, or an espresso anywhere. But try to get 'filter coffee' well that's tough. In two hotels, the closest we could get was an annoying French Press that renders gritty weak-assed brew that makes you want to run out and buy a real latte.

*Airport secutiry is, well, isn't really. We boarded our domestic flight and no one even looked in our bags. One of the pilots stowed the baggage, collected teh tickets, and told us the safety instructions. When we returned our rental car, instead of the usual grilling about new dents in the car or how far we drove, we just dropped the keys down a hole at the empty Budget Rent-a-car desk. Lovely!

*A billboard in Auckland airport said it all. It showed a bunch of college grads being towed away in a box with a UK flag with the heading, "The Brain Drain. Why you need to insure yourself in New Zealand." We have met many people from other countries who have moved here, as well as many young Kiwis who have already lived part of their lives abroad and have returned.

Blokarts: Sailing Around the Track on Wheels

The Blokart is a uniquely Kiwi invention. It's like a three-wheeled go kart but instead of a smelly motor, it is propelled around the track by four meters of sail. I tried these out at Blokart heaven, with Garry Ingram piloting his own craft and shouting directions to me as we whizzed around a track. "Pull it in! Pull it in!" he cried. This is easier than it looks, and they've gotten these babies up to about 100 Kmh on wide open spaces like the Great Salt Lake. Fun!

Kayaking in the Dark toward the Glow Worms

We met Blair Anderson from Waimarino Adventure Park and Kayak tours and proceeded in a van pulling four kayaks to Lake McLaren. It was getting dark, and that was good--we were there for a moonlight kayak and a chance to see the glow worms light up the inside of a cavern.

Blair, 31, is unflappably cheerful, and a delight to join on these graceful two-person crafts, which he joked are sometimes called "divorce boats' for what they do to a couple trying to coordinate paddling together. There were seven of us, and after fitting our spray skirts and lifejackets and positioning foot peddles, we paddled off sending geese flapping out of our way.

You could not see much, but that was what made it special. Over our heads, the southern sky was a vast planetarium, with the Milky way gracefully presenting itself to us. We watched as a satellite made its way toward a bright star, these are the ones that move slowly across.

We paddled in the dark, geese and ducks and in the far distance more bird calls; there was no moonlight but the stars and Geoff's gentle directions taking us toward the cavern. Cindy manned the front, and I steered with my foot pedals in the back. We finally reached the end of the lake and it got even darker in the cavern. Along the walls, the glow worms looked like a million fireflies with their lights left on. It was magical to slowly paddle and have these insects light our way in the narrow cavern. Geoff told us about how he bought this business from his father four years ago. His great love is kayaking down class five rivers, "the harder the better," and how he tries to do at least one of these monsters every few years. NOw with his four and two-year olds and busy life running the park, it's getting harder.

"My four-year-old knows how to paddle," he said proudly. "I never even taught him but he just knows, and he's great in the kayak." As we emerged from the cavern, we paddled all lined up in a row, and again we let the silence put its spell over us. We gazed heavenward and saw more stars than I've ever seen, and quietly tried in vain to find a shooter. The satellite was the closest we came.

Mere Shows Us Her Playground, the Mount

In the busiest day of our seven-day trip here to the North Island, we met Mere Mollard-Wharepapa, who guided us up her favorite playground, the legendary Mount Maunganui. This bulb-shaped mountain is located at the end of the sweeping Bay of Plenty, and is green all the way 'round. Sheep graze on gentle terraces, keeping the grass short and there are runners and hikers going up and down a network of many trails, called tracks.

Mere is a Maori...she certainly looks the part, with a ceremonial tattoo on her beefy forearm, short hair, wrap-around shades and a bit of gold in her front tooth. Her high cheekbones, dark complexion and manner of speech befits her tribal roots. She is proud of her traditions, and spoke to us in her native tongue, introducing herself as she would to another Maori by naming the mountain where she resides. She had already been up the mountain twice today, and as we huffed and puffed and had to stop, she was barely winded.

She told us about how the Maori are still fighting battles over land, especially outraged that sometimes the government sells off their land to foreigners. She showed us where a landslide had uncovered a massive pile of shells, and how she was one of the people called in to check for ancestral burial grounds. It is important that they perform ceremonies if ancient relatives are disturbed.

We circled higher and higher and finally reached the summit, and Mere, having made this trip thousands of times, shook our hands and smiled broadly. "When I was a kid, this was my playground," she said. "We plucked oysters out of these waters, and we used to live right over there." She pointed toward two high-rise apartments, obviously added more recently.

We clambored over to the other side of the Mount and gazed down upon boats making their way over to Tauranga harbor. An uninhabited island called Matakana stretched as far as we could see, this is where her two sons often surf, either swimming across the channel or hitching a ride with a pleasure boat. It was breaktaking and clear, and as we looked out a hangglider slowly drifted down and around and almost skimmed the waves. He managed to catch another updrift that carried him gracefully right down to the grass beside the beach.

www.maurotours.co.nz

The Jetboat Was Fun but the Silence was Best

We joined Geoff Brown, Managing Director of the Longridge Fun Park for a spin on a jetboat up the Kiatuna river this morning. These 385 horsepower machines spin on a dime, and draw only about six inches of water. Both sides of this spring fed river were lined with prolific ferns and greenery, 'This is what all of New Zealand looked like when we got here," said Geoff. Way up high, moss covered cliffs bordered the engorged green river.

We shot up the river and waited for Geoff to signal that he was about to go into a 360 degree spin. Cindy and I clung to the red railing as the boat spun from a fast speed all the way around, and then the engine roared again and we felt like James Bond speeding up the green river dodging the branches and nearly clipping the moss-covered rocks.

But the most fantastic part of this adreneline filled seven-mile trip was when we reached rapids and rocks too steep for the throaty boat to negotiate. Then Geoff turned off the rumbling, bubbling motor. Silence engulfed us as we drifted downstream....a glorious, heavenly silence and the only sound was the gurgling clear water, and the cicadas that chirped unseen in the green above us. Nobody spoke, nobody wanted to wreck this delicious quiet, nobody interrupted the cicadas and the rushing water except a few birds. We drifted down a bit further, Geoff gave us a little more of the silence as we drank in the lush tropical beauty of this rainforest that bordered this clean free-flowing river. Then he turned the motor back on and we roared back down the curvy path that we had come up.

Taking a Tour of Papamoa Beach with Rebecca

Rebecca Crosby showed us around her family's business today, and at age 24, she's got a full plate. Rebecca runs the Papamoa Beach Top 10 Holiday Resort, here on the beach on the east coast of the North Island. We talked with Rebecca and her grandmum Thelma, a charming woman with white hair and an easy laugh.

The land under this beachfront caravan and camping resort is owned by the local government. Like much of New Zealand, oceanfront property is leased, not owned, and that's one of the reasons this is still a low-priced camping area instead of a swanky Hilton resort. "We would have sold this off long ago and made millions," she joked. But Rebecca loves making her guests, who come back year after year, generation after generation, happy as they settle into to their spaces with views of the ferocious surf on the Papamoa beach. We toured the villas, with bedrooms that face huge sliding glass doors, practically on top of the roiling surf just outside. Here surfers coast on six-foot swells and the town supplies lifeguards, who during busy times patrol not only on the beach but in boats offshore.

Rebecca, a slim, attractive brunette with chiseled features and high cheekbones, said she takes the job of host very seriously. "We're the ones who they are spending their holiday with, it's important to make them feel welcome even sometimes when you don't feel like it."

The resort has undertaken a big plan to get greener in the years ahead. A group here in NZ made up of tour operators and hospitality businesses have organized a plan that presented 89 "opportunities" to save energy, water, and reduce waste. Rebecca has been hard at work at the resort's action plan, starting with replacing worn out bulbs with high efficiency models and educating guests about recycling and saving water.

The growth rate here is exploding, the highest in NZ, and there are not enough skilled workers for many positions. But before you pack your bags, check it out--they need nurses, teachers and very skilled jobs the most.

The Conversation Flowed like the Kiwi Wines

Last night in Auckland we joined Gerry and Sally our hosts for a dinner in their home with some of their friends. John, a local painter, was there, along with another couple, Alan and Eileen. Alan works at the big Sky One tower, in finance, and Eileen is a therapist and works in a medical clinic.

We were eager to hear about life in Auckland and as usual, it was some of the differences that were the most interesting to us. They told us that if they wanted to prune or cut down the trees in their yard, they'd have to obtain the permission of the city council. And that if they tried to do it themselves, with a handsaw, a neighbor would rat them out. You can't just go around trimming or god forbid, cutting down any native tree species here, they told us.

We also learned that there is no property tax here, but there is a European-style general tax like the VAT. House prices, from what everyone told us, are astronomical here, so it is very hard to buy one if you're young. One couple could only buy if they joined forces with two single men. So now they are moving in to what might feel like a frat house instead of a newlywed's nest.

The conversation flowed, as the wine was poured, and everything was ducky until the subject of Clint Rickardscame up. This is too complex to explain, but it polarizes men against woman, who each view this topic differently. Our hosts almost came to blows discussing the Police Commissioner and his sexual dalliances (or gang rape, depending who you ask)and it almost caused a commotion because people feel so very angry over what they percieve is injustice against an official who did something terrible 25 years ago, and yet was acquitted by two juries.

Like the OJ Simpson trial in the 90s, there are some topics that guarantee flared tempers and discord. If you want to find out more just google this guy and you can read all about the seamy story that is turning dinner conversations into wars across the city.

Scenes from NZ40, America's Cup Racer

Auckland harbor was the perfect place to set sail yesterday, with a stiff wind and sunshine all over. At home it's about 5 degrees, so we are not missing much. Off to Papamoa today, a three-hour drive to the coast.

OK Guys, Grinding Forward!

On the ferry over to Devonport, a peninsula about 15 minutes from downtown Auckland, the wind was whipping even though the sun was shining brightly. I knew that would bode well on my next excursion....sailing on an America's Cup boat out in Auckland harbor with Sail New Zealand.
I didn't know we'd be asked to do so much of the work...but it turns out it takes about 12 people to operate one of these racing vessels. We ended up winning the race, pivoting around the green buoys and with our red spinnaker bulging in the stiff wind we beat them by about 12 meters.

The masts of this boat tower at 119 feet, and there are four stations where sailors have to crank the handles to tighten the lines. Furiously cranking away, we were instructed by the crew "guys, grinding forward," hold. "Grinding backward, slowly now." It was exhilarating and exhausting, and we took turns manning the cranks.

As we passed under the big Auckland bridge, a bungee jumper was making his plunge toward the water. On his rebound recoil, he gave us the big thumbs up. I later repaired to Cowboy's Pizza Kitchen, right on the harbor, for a Radler Monteiths brew, that has a taste of lime with the lager. The waitresses with their low-cut yellow tees and cowboy hats said tips here are no problem. "But since we don't expect them from Kiwis, it's almost nicer when you get one. I slurped down six Bluff oysters served on lemon slices, and made my way to the Link bus back up to Ponsonby Road.

Sky City, Downtown Auckland

The Sky City tower dominates Auckland's skyline, and at night during Cup Week the spire is lit up with green and red spotlights. Wherever we are in Auckland we can see this giant tower.

Kiwis Aren't Keen on Tips--Fine with Us!

We joined Sarah Keenan and Melissa Prentice for dinner at the Jervois Steak House on Ponsonby Road last night. These two women are media reps for NZ Tourism and Auckland Tourism, and they told us about their lives here in Auckland, the battle over Marmite versus Vegemite, and what it is like to meet with media from all over the world.

Both of them have lived in different countries, Melissa in Hawaii and Sarah in the Philippines, and we talked about customs such as tipping. As Americans we are used to having to lay out another 20 percent after a good meal, but these two had different opinions. One felt she should tip, and the other said no. We would prefer to have this system where you might put out a small tip but it isn't mandatory. But of course waitresses here make more per hour than the piddling wage in the US that makes the tips the real income.

This is a big week in Auckland, it's Cup Week, where major horse races are going on and many of the bars and restaurants are gearing up for big crowds. It's also a week of a boat show, so the harbor is packed full of boats on display. I'll be sailing today out into this beautiful harbor, look for some photos coming here soon.

No Junk Mail, Please!

With no scheduled meetings or sites we have to see, we were free to explore Ponsonby Road and the California-like neighborhood where we are staying. There are many small bungalows and stately early 1900s era buildings, and cool cafes and shops along this main thoroughfare. Before we set out, Proprietor Gerry Hill showed us around his 11-room Great Ponsonby B&B, noting the many artists from Polynesia whose work adorns the walls.

We climbed the stairs to see the B&B's Penthouse, a spacious apartment/room with a deck that looks out over the city, and his leafy lawn below. Gerry is well-known in the area, he was born in Wellington but has been here in Auckland for more than 30 years. He and his wife Sally dispense banana crepes and omelettes and keep their guests happy throughout the year.

One of the little things I like about New Zealand is how the residents can opt out of getting junk mail stuffed in their mailboxes. Once when I asked my post office not to put them in they said no way, they had to. Here you just buy a sign that says no circulars and that's the end of it. They also have special trucks that drive around to pick up wastepaper, and there is virtually no litter to be seen. From an early age, Kiwis are taught that the environment is a priority, and from the clean public bathrooms to the pristine water in the lakes and rivers, it sure makes a difference.

Air New Zealand: A Luxurious Ride in the Sky

We took the long flight last night from LAX to Auckland. Air New Zealand did not disappoint, business class was just as much fun and as comfy as we had hoped for. My friend Johnny Jet told me on the phone before we left that he had one of the best night's sleeps he can remember in the front of one of these birds, and we agree. The little pods, fluffy pillows, attentive staff and the first-run movies made the night a joy and we awoke with just two hours left in the nearly 13-hour haul.

I had been wanting to see how Daniel Craig would play 007, and there it was, "Casino Royale," on the little fold out screen. Across the aisle, Cindy enjoyed "Dreamgirls," and boy was I glad I had my own choice of movies! No chick flicks for me tonight.

We picked up our rental car and I took a few practice laps around the parking lot. I was still a bit nervous as we headed out onto the motorway, Cindy riding shotgun in the unfamiliar left side, me trying to remember to hug the right side, and when we hit our first roundabout, I almost lost it. We followed the directions to the Great Ponsonby B&B, but of course, we got lost and circled around and around Auckland for about 45 minutes. When we drove through a park, the cicadas were out in force, this sound of summer was magic to our ears.

We'll rest and regroup and we have the day to explore the Ponsonby neighborhood, we've already asked our host for his favorite cafes and Gerry Hill was happy to point them all out on our map.

Saturday on Venice Beach

Our day in Marina del Rey began with a walk. A marathon walk all around the marina, we basked in the bright sunlight that has eluded us so long in our New England home. We walked and walked, and talked about our idea to come out here in February and stay a whole month....now that we've got Skype, and our laptops, and reliable staff, hey, why not escape for the whole month next year? It's an idea still in its infancy, but because Cindy and I are both self-employed, it's doable and tempting.

Venice Beach has lost the sleaze factor that we both remember from the last time we visited. This time it was just a wide stretch of beach, populated by locals and visitors, and we didn't see the bizarre bodybuilders, rastas, and weird pierced guys that I recall from my last visit in 1995.

Our feet ached from all the walking, and as luck would have it, just as we commented about how we needed a sneaker store, we passed by one. We both suited up with new sneaks, fitted by experts at the The Starting Line, who really knew about sneaker fitting, and now we're happy to be going to New Zealand prepared to do some walking.

The wait is terribly bearable here at the Business class lounge, overlooking the tarmac. We have WiFi, brews, snacks and plenty of excitement for the journey ahead.

The Crappy Van Should Have Tipped Us Off

We landed last night at LAX about 47 minutes ahead of schedule. That gave us time to call the hotel shuttle and wait about 30 minutes for the decrepid van festooned with signs about the LA Adventurer 'All Suite' hotel. Ugh. You can just tell what happened next. The beat-up van took us past West Century Boulevard's check cashing stores, ugly fast food joints and dicey liquor stores, dropping us off at the hotel we had found on-line for $76. Ugh again.

No offers of free blueberry muffins, complimentary champagne cocktails from 5-6 pm, nor the drawing for the free tee shirts could make this gloomy room work for Cindy. She glumly climbed the stairs and when we looked at the door, where the security chain locks were stripped and gone, that was it. This hotel was not gonna make it. Men wearing hoodies shuffled down the streets, and across the boulevard, a woman in spike heels and tight white pants strode down the avenue.

So we regrouped, and on our friend Eric's advice, called the Marriot in Marina del Rey. After an expensive ride in a cab with a barely bilingual driver, we made our way here, to this lovely hotel with an expansive view of the LA skyline and the Pacific in the distance. This is the home of Johnny Jet, world traveler extraordinaire, and friend to GoNOMAD. I am sure he is not home now, as he says on his blog, but we will try to track him down here on his home turf.

The early morning sun is bright and clear here, with sharp shadows arching away from every building and vehicle down on the street. We are heading out to Venice Beach to find an internet cafe, to post this the first blog of the trip. Then we can try to get our money back from Hotels.com, the people who booked us in that lousy flea bag firetrap.

Last night we joined my friend Eric at a hip tapas joint called Primitivo Wine bistro, where we sat outside and noshed on diver scallops, calamari and a grilled ceasar salad. Eric told us more about his foray into a new travel website, to be called travelista.com. It combines 'the velvet rope' with an adventurous spirit. It was fun to be in the charged up energy of the Abbott Kinney neighborhood, a small street lined with hip bars and trendy eateries.

We will be helping Eric and his partners get this new site linked up on the web when the launch in April, you'll hear more about this soon.

Even Though People are Talkin' The Cafe Grows On

Last night as I was playing with little Nathan, I flipped the TV to the Deerfield channel. This is where you see people having televised meetings to govern the town. Imagine my surprise that just as I tuned in, they were talking about the cafe.

Board member Steve, a familiar face from town, was talking about how "some people have mentioned this to me...I just wanna bring this up. How come when the bike shop was opened, that guy had to come before the board to get a zoning permit. But when that cafe, the GoNOMAD cafe opened, he just opened up with no permit...and that was once an accountant's office, now it's a restaurant. That's a big change."

Dick, the health inspector (and friendly GoNOMAD ally) replied that since we are located in the C1 district, no special permit was needed. "The bike shop is located in a zone where you do need a permit," he told Steve. "I heard talk, that's all, so I just wanted to clarify that. I guess it's ok then for him to be in business there."

Timing, huh? I turn on that channel and just at that instant they're talking about 'what people are saying about that cafe.'

Can Concrete Balls Stop a Volcano's Mud Flow?

In last night's Wall St. Journal a story was told about how a geophysicist in Indonesia is trying to stanch the flow of mud from an erupting volcano---by dropping concrete balls down into the crater. It's a last ditch effort to keep the mud from destroying more houses, and factories and a threatened rail line near the volcano.

Nobody has ever successfully stopped a volcano--this one erupts mud, not molten lava--but since it spews as much as 5.3 million cubic feet of mud a day, and has caused 10,000 people to flee their homes, it is worth trying. The scheme is to drop one thousand 440-pound concrete balls into the crater, using a pulley and crane mounted over the 70-yard wide crater. Will it work?

"Mr Bijaksana acknowledges that 'we're facing something we know very little about,' but says he is more focused on stopping the flow than in determining the cause. "Few people are interested in solving this problem," he says, "Most people are trying to find who's to blame."