It's a Bird, It's a Plane...It's a Honda Jet!

A favorite customer of ours at the cafe named Tim drops by his copy of the Aircraft Owners and Pilot's Association magazine, called the AOPA Pilot. I have always been intrigued with flying and with aircraft, so I gave it a skim.

Very light jets are the new buzzword in aviation....opening up ownership of small jets to thousands more people and changing jet ownership from an exclusive rich man's club to something that mere millionaires can afford. Many smaller airports too, are gearing up, these are where the small jets will take off and land, avoiding the bigger airports with much higher landing fees and fewer slots.

I found out that Honda makes jets. Yes, it's true, you will be able to buy a sleek VLJ, or very light jet, in the near future with the famous reliability of a Honda. The website too, was sleek and very cool, showing the little jet taking off with its jaunty two-color paint job and leather interior with room for three passengers plus the pilot. They can cruise almost 1200 miles on a tank of fuel, at about 420 miles per hour. Honda's new offering will come with a $3.5 million price tag, when it becomes available in 2010.

Diamond Aircraft Industries has an even cheaper model, in a category called personal jets. Their model, another four-seater called the D-Jet, will cruise at 362 mph for 1350 nautical miles. The price is right--$1.38 million--and more than 125 orders have placed so far.

Wondering If I Just Got the Hottest Stock Pick

Last night we had a 'progressive party,' where we had three courses at three different houses in the neighborhood. It was a fun way to get a chance to see each house, chat at each table, and have something different to eat at each venue.

One of the guests was a research nurse. I was fascinated hearing her describe her work. She does research into antibiotics....doing careful trial and analysis about which drugs are the most effective. She follows patient's progress and sees which drugs work the best in each situation.

I kept thinking about the value of what she's learned, taken in the realm of the stock market. If we knew that a soon to be released drug was remarkably effective against certain pathogens, it would send the maker's stock soaring.

I have never acted on a tip but as I listened to her describe the partnership between the drug firms, the hospital, and the nursing staff, I thought, 'wow' what a gold mine of information. Sadly, I never did get the name of the new drugs they've been testing, nor the name of the firm. But if I did, I might be calling my broker right about now.

The Big Foam is Coming from Sacuzzo Coffee

Today's another Monday at the cafe...full of people working and our new electrician Dave busy down in the musty cellar. He's installing a big new 220 volt circuit to accommodate....drum roll please...our New Huge Deluxe Cappuccino maker. Tomorrow Marco from Sacuzzo Coffee, of West Hartford, will arrive with the behemoth that will go into service just as soon as we learn how to use this Italian stallion.

I've never had more fun in my life than running these businesses in this little village. The energy of the cafe, the little travails of the day to day food business, they still make he happy. I think I was born to serve food to my friends, relatives and neighbors.

We have gone a year using a little one-headed espresso machine, which has stood up to a daily beating and in fact has never been turned off. This Bezzera is going to be pressed into service at a new restaurant opening up in Greenfield. Our new double headed monster will whip the milk faster, give us better foam, and look like the real deal. Can't wait to get it going for a test drive!

Have You Ever Heard of Hybrid Tugboats?

In the bright LA sunshine I bought a copy of the Los Angeles Times and read a story about hybrid tug boats. This is an initiative not many are aware of; along with vehicle tailpipe emissions, the EPA is after trains, ships and planes to also reduce their emissions. In the port of LA, tugboats using a hybrid technology modeled after Toyota's Prius is expected to reduce emissions by 44%, using Foss Maritime's recently developed combination propulsion systems.

They will still rely on the large diesel engines to do the heavy pulling that tugboats are known for, but for putting around the harbor and doing less strenous tasks the quiet electric motors will take over. LA has the largest port in the US, and here is where the new tugs will begin working.

A Brewer Admits Regrets About the Booze Biz

Last night we went up to Greenfield to the People's Pint. It was four of us, four old guys in a good mood 'cause it was Friday night. The joint didn't disappoint--full of happy beer drinkers and a spirit in the air. Maybe it was because it was Friday and they were all so young. We found a spot in a booth and had some of their brews--Provider Pale Ale, and ESB. Not as cold as they are in some pubs, but good nonetheless.

There I picked up a copy of the Yankee Brew News. I used to read this newspaper, that calls itself a 'Beeriodical' to keep up with potential customers--brewers buy lots of tee shirts and hats--but now I was reading it just for fun. A story about a brewer with some regrets caught my eye.

"At this point in my life," said Ron Page, the head brewer at City Steam Brewery Cafe in Hartford CT, "I feel slightly guilty about being in the alcohol business. I worry about car accidents, but brewing beer pays for my family's house, food and all that. Page said he can't hide from this worry about alcohol abuse and that he can no longer kid himself that brewing is an artistic endeavor. "It's a business, he said, "and high alcohol, extreme beers are irresponsible, even though I brew them myself."

"At my age (53) alcohol is no longer a driving force...but at City Steam I'm surrounded by 50 young kids and I see them passing out and romping around sexually with each other. I'm looking forward to retiring at some point and getting out of the alcohol business."

Page thinks that alcoholic beverages will either be outlawed or severely restricted in his lifetime. "Their ultimate aim is to make it impossible to go out and have a drink and get in a car--the big thing is the ignition interrupter, which won't let a car's engine start if the driver has a certain blood alcohol level. The makers of these devices are pushing to make them mandatory."

The Pace of GoNOMAD Staggers, Yet Pleases Us

Today I'm again behind the counter at the cafe...but that's a good thing. Business has really taken off this week, I think it might have to do with the new neon OPEN sign as well as the nicer weather and of course, our great sandwiches! But it is inspiring to see the big line of people waiting for coffee, and there is an excitement in the cafe that is palpable. People really love it here. Wow! It feels so great to have created a place that means something...a place to come, a place to catch up.

Across the parking lot, we're also busy with exciting projects. Among these is our presentation to the folks who run the New York Times Travel show. We're hoping to step it up this year and exhibit at our own booth at this huge travel show. This is a big deal for us, yet after four years of exhibiting in the city, we know what we're doing and we can bring a lot to the show. Cree, who runs the Travel Ad Network, is helping us out with some additional ad support, and we've offered them a home base at the show when we open our booth there next February.

We are also looking into a new 'white label,' that is a custom-branded page on which we'd offer vacation rentals around the world. We want to give people a chance to browse through a huge database and book house and villa rentals from us. You'll see this plus some other new programs popping up on GoNOMAD.com very soon.

The NY Post Rewrites AP Story to Hit Dems

The NY Post is famously anti-democrat. But today even I was surprised to read on Horse's Mouth, by Greg Sargent, that the editors there actually rewrote an AP story to smear Dems. The wire service story had this headline and lead:

Democrats Challenge Bush on Iraq Bill

A historic veto showdown assured, Democratic leaders agreed Monday on legislation that requires the first U.S. combat troops to be withdrawn from Iraq by Oct. 1 with a goal of a complete pullout six months later.

Here is how the POst rewrote the headline and lead:

'WHITE FLAG' HARRY FUROR
WHITE HOUSE: PULLOUT PLAN A DEATH SENTENCE

The White House warned yesterday that Senate Democratic leader Harry Reid's new legislation requiring the first U.S. troops to be withdrawn from Iraq by Oct. 1 is a "death sentence" for millions of freedom-loving Iraqis.

The author of the original story, David Espo, had this to say. "I didn't write anything remotely like that. My name was on the story and I didn't write it anything like the way it was printed."

Idol Goes into Charity Mode

America held back a collective sniffle tonight, as the most popular show on TV went into charity mode, and showed scenes of desperation in Africa and poor folks in Louisiana. It shows the way that fundraising has so radically changed.

It's just much easier...the web, the easy enabling of credit cards, and now even the voting for the contestants has a charity angle. Vote often, and we take a little sliver for the charity, matched by a corporation.

At one point Tom, everybody's friend on My Space, founder of the site and now dot.com multimillionaire, stood up. He smiled as Ryan Seacrest thanked him for their help. Tom is the one guy who will be your My Space friend even if no one else will.

At the end, Bono walked in while the final six were singing a song. My daughter asked me, 'who is he?' and I welled up a bit. Bono makes me inspired. "He is one of the most influential people on earth today," I answered. "Bush and Clinton take his phone calls."

From Wolves, It Was a Quick Jump to Dogs

Tonight on PBS I learned about how dogs evolved from wolves...Ray Coppinger, a Hampshire College professor, said that it happened much faster than we'd think. He said it had to do with the 'flight time,' how long it would take a wild wolf to get to a food source like a dump.

The dogs that weren't as afraid of humans came closer, and thus were able to get the food faster. Over time the genetics slanted toward the dogs that got friendly with humans and got the food.

Then he cited a genetic breeding program in Russia that involved foxes. The tamest ones, who bit and scratched the least, were chosen to be bred, and the others were not. Over ten years these foxes began to look and act like dogs, developing floppy ears and coming when then they were called, even barking.

When we bred for tameness, it did not take long to change a wild animal into Man's best friend. Dogs are the only creatures, Coppinger said, to do this in the animal world.

The genetic change from wolf to dog, said another scientist, took place in as short a time as one human's lifetime. This amaZing feat is why in many ancient cultures, people were buried with dogs.

Scott Clark, of WebsiteAdvice.com, Come On Down!

Relaxing during a slow moment at the cafe, I picked up the WSJ. There a headline made me do a double take...No Virginia it's not true. "Going Online Isn't a Must Move for All Entrepreneurs." Firms flourishing wihout a site say the Work Isn't Worth It. Harumph! But I had to read more.

"In a survey of 500 businesses in varying industries released today, The National Small Business Association reports that 40% of them don't have a web site. What's more, the growth rate of businesses opting to be online has slowed." A NSBA staffer was stunned. "I would think in today's day and age you would have to have a web site," said Rob Yunich. Sometimes it is just that the owners don't like the designs offered to them by designers. Lois Riske, president of General Cleaning, has looked into a site. But the mock-ups were disappointing. "We don't want to put something out there that's not top drawer," she explained.

Another small business owner, Pat Bardo, was given big promises by another designer, but they weren't able to deliver. Then she met a guy who right now is probably as happy as hell that the Wall St. Journal included his name in their story. He made it easy for her, and she told Elizabeth Holmes, "I felt like, golly, that's what I really need. Someone who can really do this thing."

Scott Clark, of websiteadvice.com, it's your lucky day, come on down. But you've earned it!

Phil Anschutz, a Reclusive Visionary

I met billionaire Phil Anschutz a few years ago, when I attended the European premier of the CS Lewis movie in Belfast. I remember how the waters parted when the slightly built man entered the reception, and I chatted him up about the next seven movies he'd like to make from Lewis' Narnia series. There is something about a billionaire tycoon that makes people get out of the way.

Anschutz was in the news again recently, this time a portrait in the NY Times that described him as a visionary and publicity shy man. He has cobbled together three national cinema chains to form Regal, a conglomerate with over six thousand screens. Anschutz had the brilliant idea of selling national ads before the movies played. He also has made money by renting out the theaters to business groups looking for a place to hold multimedia meetings and to church groups who want the same. He's also developing a large tract of land around his Staples Center called LA Live, that will bring a revitalization to downtown LA.

When he was younger Anschutz bought a railroad, then merged it with larger ones. He had another great idea...to put a lot more money into a small sector of the company that placed fiber optic lines on the right of way near the tracks. The company ended up having nearly coast to coast fiber that they owned, and leased out to telcoms looking for bandwidth. He made a ton of money but later they fell on hard times when decompression made all of this bandwidth somewhat redundant.

How Do People Get To Be This Cool?

Reading the NY Times today in the mid April sunlight, I learned about a guy who sounds like the coolest man who ever roamed the earth. His name is Andre...and he holds hip after-parties for artists and other 'in' people. He was profiled by a fawning Julia Chapin.

"Mr. Saraiva, who is soft-spoken and flirtatious, seems to know almost everyone in the international fashion-art orbit. New acquaintances instantly become confidants. If he sees artists standing awkwardly on the sidelines of one of his clubs or at an art opening, he’ll swoop in, bestow them with a drink and lead them by the wrist to the safety of a V.I.P. room or a clutch of interesting people. A bond is formed.

“André has a MySpace quality,” said Olivier Zahm, the editor of the magazine Purple Fashion. “He makes friends instantly and then his new friends become your friends. It’s a big magic.”

All of which seems to serve him well in a world based on social alliances, the bartering of cool and a plumped-up contact list. “I don’t have to buy art,” Mr. Saraiva said. “My friends just give me work.”

In return — he says he has pieces by Dash Snow, Dan Colen and Sophie Calle — he lets the artists stay at the Hôtel Amour and drink free at his clubs. “So it works out,” he said. Part of his charm is that he avoids many of the tackier tricks of the club trade. “We have no bankers backing us,” Mr. Saraiva said. “We don’t use p.r.” His places have a certain punk glamour, with worn red carpets and upholstery that is covered with beer stains and cigarette burns, as if to ward off those with platinum credit cards and collagen lips.

At Le Baron in Paris, a former strip club, artists are employed as doormen and D.J.’s. Fashion models are turned away, as are soccer stars and bankers.

“Mostly, models are cheesy and stupid,” Mr. Saraiva said. “They show up with tacky men who think they are kings of the world because they have a driver and expensive clothes. A guy that looks like a bum is more likely to get into one of my places.”

But there must have been models in his clubs during Fashion Week? Mr. Saraiva smiled mischievously. “Yes, but those ones are our friends.”

Give Him a Fishing Net He'll Learn to Fish, Not Beg

We had a lazy brunch at a placed called B'Shara's next to Rte 5 in West Springfield today, and I got a chance to read the NY Times. A story about food aid provided an interesting twist...and in the piece former President Bill Clinton admitted to having 'never thought of that while I was president." He credited Pres. Bush for pushing a plan to buy food aid in poor countries.

The subject is about the logic and expense of sending food grown in the US overseas to help out poor and starving people. The original Food for Peace program, put forth during the Eisenhower years, called for sending surplus grain,costly to store here, overseas to hungry people. The law required us to only use food grown in the US.

Over the years, however, this has enriched transport companies and four huge agribusiness companies. It turns out that because of shipping costs, the same amount of money that once fed 100 million now feeds just 70 million. It just makes more sense to buy food in the poor countries instead of shipping ours over.

"Marv Baldwin, the head of Foods Resource Bank, said his nonprofit raises farm animals and grows crops on 7,000 acres in the US. They donate land, labor and the use of equipment and help raise cash for fertilizer and fuel. But instead of shipping the crops and animals to poor lands, the farmers sell them in the US. Then the Food Resource Bank spends the money from those sales to buy seeds, fertilizer, tools and other goods so that poor farmers can grow their own food.

The Dirty Truth: A Good Old Honest Beer Bar

Last night I went again down to the big city. It was time to meet Cindy and some other pals at a bar I've never been to, but I've always admired: The Dirty Truth. This place was originally built as a Pan Asian joint. But they went out of business, amidst declarations by the Connecticut-based owner that Northampton "didn't appreciate fine food." Well the same fancy expensive sinks still grace the bathrooms but now the focus is on the 40 taps lined up on the back wall. Taps for fine beers, of course.

The selection of drafts was beyond compare here in the Valley. Most of the beers I didn't recognize, but the list was rife with Belgian, Californian, and German brews of every type. I settled for a California Stone Pale Ale and it was hoppy, brown and good. Cindy wanted a lighter beer but had one like mine after a sip.

Northampton needed another bar, believe it or not, even though the small city is already full of great choices. This Dirty Truth will thrive, because they're cool, they serve great appetizers like the hummus with big slices of grilled bread. These guys are here for the long run, they've got Northampton down.

Aren't You Glad You Don't Ride the Mumbai Train?

India is a magical place, I've been told, but also a place where the Malthusian images of overcrowding can be pretty scary. I found out this morning when I read a story in the Wall St. Journal by Eric Bellman about the crowded and deadly commuter trains of Mumbai.

He quoted a straphanger named Malwankar, who said that once or twice a month he sees people killed or injured on the tracks. The stations now stock sheets to cover bodies found on the tracks or the platform. The Mumbai system packs 550 people into a car built for 200. On average, 13 people are killed each weekday either from scrambling across the tracks, tumbling off packed trains, slipping off platforms or sticking their heads out open windows for air.

"The trains that pull into Malwankar's end-of-the-line station are already full. That's because commuters have started taking them in the wrong direction so they can grab seats when the trains turn around. Two hours after leaving his apartment, in temperatures that can reach 104 degrees in the summer, he finally has just a five minute walk to work."

Our Correspondents In France

Today I am working the morning shift at the cafe. The sun struggles to come out, it is still about forty degrees. Ugh. New England is in the midst of a collective sigh. Again.

It is fun to pop onto the GoNOMAD blogs and read our travel warriors' accounts. Sony is waking up in a castle in Carcassonne France, marveling at the copious pates, cheeses and gourmet foods she is stuffing down, and Kent is getting ready to fly from St. Lucia back to NY and then over to France too, for a week.

France is getting NOMADized this Spring, with not one but four writers doing features about various parts of this wonderful country. Unlike after previous trips of mine, I've gotten my story written fast, so I now have a new story about Burgundy up on the site. Phew! It sure feels good to have the story posted so quickly!

A Boy, A Sailboat, and a Transatlantic Dream

I read National Geographic Adventure while I waited in my car yesterday, in the crappy gloom that we call New England weather. I found a story about a fourteen-year-old boy from England named Michael Perham who just sailed a 28-foot sailboat called Cheeky Monkey some 3500 miles across the Atlantic. He beat the record for the youngest crossing by 434 days. Andrea Minarcek got these quotes from the youngster.

"I slept about three-and-a-half hours each day, in one-hour naps. With all the noise of water rushing past it sounds like being in a car wash. But it wasn't hard to fall asleep. Put your head down after a day out on the water, and you'll just drift off to sleep straightaway. It does exhaust a person.

"I ate every variation of canned food thinkable. I'm not the best cook, so I'd just put it in the pan and heat it up. It wasn't at all nice. I was able to call my mom and sister almost every day, so that was good, but I really missed warm toast, ice-cold drinks, and crisps.

"Near the Canary islands the VHF radio and satellite tracker on my boat died on me. My dad and I lost contact entirely for three days. No one in the UK knew where I was But it didn't really bother me to be off the radar. I knew where I was headed, so it was as simple as sticking to the course."

Bringing Back the Videos Killed Video To Go

Yesterday's Daily Hampshire Gazette had a sad story with an unfunny pun for a headline. "Video to Go to Go Away forever," and told the story of Kitze McCormick, who started the store in 1984, and it's been her life ever since. She's closing down and selling all of her movies.

The sad inevitability of the demise of video stores is nonetheless sad, because it is more than just another store closing. It means a place where people know movies will no longer be an option. I remember renting videos from Kitze's store in the '90s. They had foreign movies and arranged them by director.

That's the mark of a real film buff, movies sorted by Hitchcock, Kubrick, Scorcese instead of endless rows of the most popular new Ben Stiller dumb-a-thon.

"We are not a 'Do you want fries with that?' kind of place,'' McCormick told the Gazette. "We're there 'cause we love movies. If you walk down our new release wall, it's not three shelving units of one title. It's a very full new release wall with singles of all kinds of things you may have never heard of. I'll take a chance on all kinds of things, and we're happy to tell you whether to waste your time on it or not.''

But I've got say that I understand why they went down. I mean, I hate that old routine about 'bringing the movies back to the store. How many times in my life have I paid some late fee for a silly video that my kids never watched, or that ended up beneath the couch cushions!

I sit here with one Netflix and one Blockbuster by mail DVD. Sorry Kitze, I just didn't wanna have to remember to return them the next day, but you did a great job and your customers will miss you.

Should U.S. Newspapers Care About Canada?

Edward Wasserman writes in the Miami Herald about how US newspapers are abandoning Canada. It's a sad comment on the weakness of journalism here, he says.

"Amid all the wailing over the decline of U.S. journalism, word that The Washington Post is shutting its Toronto bureau was barely audible. The Post follows The New York Times, Wall Street Journal, Chicago Tribune and Los Angeles Times in ending full-time coverage of this country's northern neighbor. By this summer, The Toronto Star reports, no U.S. newspaper will have a staff correspondent in Canada.

So why should you care? After all, if Canada were brimming with news U.S. readers would naturally demand to know what was happening there, and metro papers here would oblige.

But by conventional U.S. standards of newsworthiness Canada is a nullity. If it's true, as Churchill remarked of the Balkans, that some places produce more history than they consume, Canada would be the opposite, a black hole that imports trends, culture, politics, histories from elsewhere -- from Scotland, England, France, the United States and, lately, the West Indies and South Asia -- and emits no perceptible light.

At least that would be the explanation a budget-minded U.S. news executive might offer. The problem with that is that it says more about the wafer-thin imagination of our journalists than the realities of contemporary Canada. And I think it also says something about the weirdly selective way in which our media deem certain parts of the world worthy of notice.

For an imperial power, the United States is an oddly incurious place. Our media don't help. They should poke and prod and demand that we pay attention to people abroad even when they're neither disaster victims nor terrorists. Instead, by their inattention, the media perpetuate the dangerous belief that our divine right is to speak and be heeded, never to listen."

France Lives Up to a Mighty Reputation

I am in the Air France business lounge negotiating this tough little Euro keyboard, my final post of the trip. I feel lucky to have you, my readers following along as I have experienced this lovely country; it makes any new discovery of mine all the more fun because I get to share it. Thanks for joining me here this week.

The five-hour drive from Colmar, near the German border to Paris Roissy (the French don`t call it De Gaulle) took almost six hours. We passed through endless fields of yellow rape-seed and rye grass; stretching far, far into the distance. It was nice to see so much of France is still plain old wide open space. We caught glimpses of small villages of the Champagne region,we passed a series of very tall windmills, slowly turning 70 foot-long blades in the fields.

I thought about the difference between Cindy`s beloved Italy and this place. There is a different kind of beauty here, more sweeping, in some ways more rustic; of course, Italy has its own unique appeal and its famous sense of humor. The wine here is more important to people than it seems in Italy--there you quaff the cheap local stuff and love it....en France the grape and the vintage seems to matter more.

This trip has made me broaden my interest in a vacation rental here...to be able to settle in and get to know a village like we did in Italy would be fun. Hey, maybe we can do both...now that I realize I can speak a bit of the language.

Colmar, Home of the Statue of Liberty Artist

Today we woke up in Strasbourg and ended up in Colmar, about 30 minutes south. Alsace, we learned from our guide, is a distinctly proud identity. "People here say they are Alsacien first, then French, or in the years during the wars, German." This territory has changed hands many times, but now is firmly French, yet the architecture reminds me of the land across the Rhine. Half-timbered houses are everywhere, as are Winstubs, or wine bars, and lots of Fisher beer. It was a summer like day, with temps in the 80s, and the park was full of strollers, loungers and kids in strollers. So many women here have small kids or are pregnant...I was told that France is bucking the trend of low birthrates and has more kids than anywhere in Europe.

We visited the home of Bartholde, he was the artist who designed the Statue of Liberty. He was born into a wealthy Colmar family and lived here until he was one--still considered a native since his house was given to the city and now houses a floor full of fascinating Statue of Liberty memorabilia. We saw four rough drafts of the lady...one without the familiar crown of stars, one holding something other than a torch. Then we saw the paintings from when the head alone was exhibited in Paris, before the giant statue was chopped up into 250 barrels and put in a ship to the US.

It's our last night here...and of course, like lunch, dinner was a fancy, elegant affair, with Pinot Gris, the Alsatien white wine, more of the famous white asparagus that is in season throughout this month, and tonight, monkfish and scallops. We just barely had room, some of us dropped out early during dinner, we're all thinking about our 4:30 am wake-up call. Then we'll drive five hours to Paris to board our planes home to the US. It will be good to be back, I just hope this snow storm doesn't mess things up!

Walking the Ramparts in Obernai, Alsace

Today we got up early, it was a fitful night's sleep and these German-style duvets that only cover a single bed leave big gaps where cold air slips in. I glanced at the clock at 4 am, then at 7 got the wake-up call. John Blanchette and I strolled the entire circle that makes up the ramparts of this town, Obernai, in Alsace.

The hotel here, the Coeur d'Alsace, is four star, and they are excited about expanding soon to build a pool, a hammam (Turkish steam room) and more deluxe suites. The manager told us last night over dinner that the project has been tough since they had to get approval in Paris every time they uncovered a new 15th century stone. "It's not easy trying to expand a hotel on an ancient rampart," he said, "But this summer we begin construction."

Dinner again was first rate. Magret de Carnard, rare duck that looks like beef, and our first taste of France escargot....or as my ex-wife used to say, 'butter and garlic delivery vehicles.'

We drive to the five-sided fortress of Neuf Brisch today, an entire town encompassed by walls shaped like a giant star. Nobody ever was able to penetrate the walls, they were designed by the great military architect Vauban, who also built the castle we saw on Wednesday.

Tiny Ducks Getting Their Sea Legs

These tiny ducks were following mama on the Ill river in Strasbourg today. It was such a sunny day, everybody was in fine spirits, shopping, strolling and enjoying spring at its finest.

It's the Season for Asperge in Dijon

They Took the Windows Out Just in Time

It is a sunny and bright day in Strasbourg, the capital of Frances Alsace region. It is also Saturday, so the streets are full of shoppers and the canals full of boats. At the huge Notre Dame cathedral, we learned that in 1941, the city was evacuated; with the advance of the Nazis, everyone fled. The stained glass windows dating back to the 12th century were taken out of the cathedral to be stored safely, lest they fall into German hands. Despite this precaution, they did, and then they were taken over the Rhine to a salt mine in Germany.

The Allies would have bombed the mine but for the foresight of an American GI, who alerted his officers to the hidden treasure, and they were spared. Just before the end of the war, though, a bomb landed in the back of this giant church...and the old glass back there was destroyed.

Our guide Annie spoke her English with a slight German accent. This territory has changed hands more than once, and used to be grouped with Lorraine, but is now its own territory. We sampled the most famous Alsacian dish today, a heavy but delicious combination of sour kraut and fish called choucroute. A baby cried in a carraige beside us; her parents didn,t want to pick her up, as we might have done.

Despite the crying, a strolling guitarist and accordian player created lovely ambience in Cathedral Square as we enjoyed yet another 2 hour lunch.

Alex Miles Brings Dijon's Secrets to Life

Alex Miles is a man I won't soon forget. We met this fascinating, articulate and curious fellow in Dijon, he was with the tourism board rep and took us around the city on our tour. With a short stature, a shaved bald head, and a penchant for details, he was a perfect guide to take us around this wonderful compact city that he's come to love. He doesn't act like he knows it all...but he sure did educate us about food, wine, France and the way cooks think.

He learned to cook in Parisien restaurants. He never studied French, but now speaks it like a champ. He married his French wife and they moved to Dijon several years ago, he took a gig running a chain of croissant shops. But that didn't work out, and he got into teaching, lecturing and consulting on his favorite subject--the sociology of food.

In the sprawling and spotless Dijon market, Alex was in his element. We met his favorite baker, who presented us with the perfect crusty baguette. We met his fishmonger, and the startling gleam on every fish and the absolute clarity of their eyes convinced me these were the freshest I'd ever seen. Throughout the market, we met his friends, he comes here every day to stock up and they know him well. "It's a human-sized city," he told us, biting into a piece of crusty walnut bread. "There is something hidden behind each wall." This we found out when a non descript door lead us to a back alley that opened up into a gloriously ornate wood and limestone carved inner sanctum, that was once a chapel.

Alex is a non-practicing Jew, who said the notion that France is full of anti-semites doesn't ring true to him. He said he just does not see it, and that people here are no different than in the US in this regard. The press tells a distorted story, he said.

He said that in France, the cooking comes from the top down, and in Italy, it's from the peasants on up. "Nearly all the best American chefs use French techniques," he said. "In the US, we talk about health all the time but are unhealthy. Instead of how we eat, it's what we eat...but it should be the other way around. Dijon, he said, is a good place to think about food.

I left him with a compliment: "You are smart, yet still very curious...and you are as interested as you are interesting." He said thanks, and we shuffled into our van for our drive to Strasbourg.

Inside the Cave: Tasting Pinot Noirs in Burgundy

Up In Time to Read the Tribune in Dijon

The other morning I awoke with a shock. I had made the classic gaffe--forgot to ask for a wake-up call, thinking hey, I get up at 7 every morning. But in those high thread count sheets, with the light blocked, and a late night watching French TV, I was jolted out of bed by the sweet voice of Jessie, the young woman from French Tourism in NYC who joined us. "Max, we're all here, and I see the bus is just arriving," she said. "Thanks!" I replied, then whipped off the covers and started a blur of packing. I scrambled to put in my contacts, threw everything into my famous "Elizabeth Taylor" huge suitcase, and made a dash for the bus. That terrible feeling of having no coffee, not shaving, and feeling totally out of sorts was with me for a while until the scenery of Burgundy revived me.

This morning I was happy to get up at 6:38 am, had some of the awful French press coffee and read the Herald Tribune. Among the stories was a piece on France's presidential "free-for-all," that brings a bunch of candidates to the fight. There is the front runner Sarkozy, who is a Bush and Iraq war supporter, (hard to believe that here) and then Segolene Royal, a woman with less experience but not tied to the infamous Jean-Marie Le Pen as Sarkozy is. In the middle is Francois Bayrou, another candidate who polls say won't make the cut.

The Tribune story: "It has become a duel betwen a self-branded mother figure and a tough-talking former interior minister, between a woman who is seen as having empathy but lacking the stature to turn France around, and a man who is more feared than loved, but considered by a majority to look 'presidential.'

Meeting Perrier's Pigs in Bazoches

I've settled into the Sofitel in Dijon, and after another classy meal, and all the email read, it's time once again to share some slices of La France. I haven't been in France since 1989, and it's still got that same je ne sais quois--is it the narrow streets? The little details in the meals like the 'amuse bouche' a surprise they present every time before you even get started? Is it the rolling fields of yellow-topped rapeseed, or the castle in the distance that we glimpsed out the window of a farm b&b we visited?

It's all of this--the physical unspoiled beauty, the graciousness of people we meet (bonjour monsieur! avoir monsieur!), it's the appreciation, not snobbery, for the finest wines. With the weather in the mid 70s, a spring starved Yankee like me is in heaven. The vines are just a few feet high, and the shoots are just barely coming up soon they will be wrapping themselves around their wires.

Today we had lunch with the Perriers. They own a farm/agritourism b&b right across from le Chateau de Bazoches, an elegant castle once owned by the famous French military architect and writer Vauban. It's privately owned now but we got to see the elegant insides and then drive out the long tree-lined driveway to the Ferme Auberge de Bazoches, where the Perriers raise pigs and white Charlerois cows.

Rooms here are just 42 Euros a night and one chamber looks out over the chateau which is lit up at night. Lunch was pork from the farm and a local Chardonnay. After coffee, we walked to the barn to meet the excited pigs, who all came running.

Later M. Perrier introduced us to his giant white bull. As to be expected all body parts were intact, and the beast scarfed grain from a bucket while his master smiled.

We took a long drive through the beautiful fields and small villages of Burgundy and got on the famous Routes des Grand Crus. Our driver pointed out the most famous and expensive grapes in the world. The small plot where Romanee Conti comes from, and ends up on shelves for $1000 a bottle. In a cozy cave, the cellarmaster Bernard Pennecot poured some Nuits St. Georges, Pommard and Fixin reds. Kent would have loved it!

He assured us that no matter how much we begged, nobody gets poured the Grand Cru. Even journalists like us couldn't get him to do it, without plunking down a pile of Euros for the privilege.

Four Kinds of Potatoes Grace Marc's Menu Tonight

We met a hometown hero tonight...Marc Meneau, who left his little town of St. Pere but came back and has spent the last 25 years developing vineyards and his Relais and Chateaux Inn and restaurant called L'Esperance. He wanted to show us his vineyards, and we were sitting on the patio of his elegant restaurant. Who were we to say no? So after enjoying his 'amuse de buche," a slender glass of whipped cream, caviar and beets, we jumped in our van and headed to the slopes. He showed us some little shoots that were encased in plastic. These were US vines that had been grafted to French vines to produce disease-resistant vines to grow Chardonnay.

We learned that in Burgundy, they only have two kinds of grapes. No blending here, no way, just Chardonnay and Pinot Noir. Then we headed to a tiny cave where he opened up some of his recent vintages...crisp, refreshing chards, and then we were surprised when uniformed waiters showed up in the cave with plates of cheese puffs and long cheesy pretzels. Nice!

Dinner at his three-star establishment was, of course lavish. Among the most memorable dishes was "Les 4 Variants de Pomme de Terre." One whipped with lots of butter, another cooked in a clay pot opened tableside, one that was tiny puffs that melted in your mouth and the last was a gratinee...potatoes of course, done in innovative ways. Dessert, oh god no, but yes, a huge plate of pastries was the pre-dessert. The main event was lighter, raspberries with whipped cream.

We staggered into the salon to enjoy our post prandial decaf, and a few of us faded away to our rooms. I stayed chatting with Shonda, a writer from Houston who had never been to Europe before. I assured her that yes, they always eat this way, then a cute little Labrador puppy bounded into the dining room and we gave it sugar cubes and it sat down, sated.

Cat Bird Seat in St. Pere

My Pedaling is Punctuated by the Sound of Birds

After breakfast at Marc Meneau, I borrowed a bike to go out and see the countryside. I pedaled around a bend and into the small village of St. Pere, where trucks carefully navigated the narrow streets and forced pedestrians up onto the sidewalk.

I rode over a bridge and out onto a slight upgrade, beside the river Cure. My pedaling at nine am was punctuated by birds, all around me I could hear their cries. In the distance cows lazily munched on grass up on the hillsides, and as I climbed a steeper hill a sweeping panorama of Burgundy unfolded before me. Ahead a farmer was
fixing his fence, his little white truck parked beside the road. We exchanged murmured 'bonjours' and I pedaled on, in this glorious countryside nothing could have been more wonderful.

I reached the top and came across sheep with tiny babies suckling, and as I shot their photos they ran away. I made my way down and then up another hill and found a sign for "Les Fontaines Salees," the site of an ancient Roman thermal bath and salt
springs. Here were diagrams that showed the hot, tepid and cold baths, and the foundations of what were once beauty treatment rooms for women.

In the village there is a museum where the treasures from the site are on view. In one glass case were hundreds of Roman and later era coins retrieved from the bottom of the sacred fountain.

There were coins for Commodus, Augustus, and Hadrian, and for all of the emperors throughout the Roman eras, and then for kings, all cast in metal. It was a trip through ancient history seeing these coins all lined up for the different rulers, each tossed into the well for good luck.

Like on the road, the only sound here as I opened a door in the back of the small museum was the birds chirping, the only thing to see in the distance were rolling fields and trees with curious round bunches of leaves. Burgundy is a beautifully preserved part of the world--you can see why this is the world's number place to visit, with more than 75 million visitors each year.

The Straight Roads of Burgundy

France to me has always been symbolized by that classic Life magazine photo of the kid looking back from the bike holding the giant baguette. He is bicyling on a road like this, straight, and bordered by rows of trees.

Here we head toward our next stop in Burgundy. Today I kick back with no appointments until the other journalists arrive tonight for a meal at Marc Meneau's l'Esperance, a three-star restaurant in Sainte Pere-sous-Vezelay.

I'm going to borrow a bike and see some of the country lanes close up.

Jarry Truffles: The Town's Signature Treat

I asked my guide if there was a signature food that symbolized the town of Auxerre. She didn't hesitate, and brought me inside a yellow awning, into a chocolate shop by the name of Jarry, on the main square. Madame Jarry gave us her famous 'Bourguignottes' rum and raisin flavored chocolate truffles. You bite down and taste the rum and then the chocolate takes over.

She handed me an elegant red and white bag with one of the cute little boxes all done up with ribbons to take with me.

Sipping The Real Chablis on a Boat in Auxerre

I arrived at Montbard and met my driver--he knew the train schedule so I wasn't stranded--and we began our trip to Auxerre. This town of about 45,000 is rich with architectural history; there are three hills and two famous cathedrals here. We toured the cool dark world of the crypts in the St-Germaine Abbey, where a cat lives among the ninth century paintings depicting the lives of saints.

The hills on the way to Auxerre were verdant; green rolling waves of grass, and then yellow topped plants called Colza in French, which are used to make salad oils. The season here is way ahead of us, people's gardens are already tilled and trees show their buds, unlike in New England where we are still ensconced in depressing brown.

Lunch was atop a barge on the Yonne river, served by the chipper Quillan David, who first brought me a glass of Chablis. Yes Chablis, that wine we know as a crappy jug wine by Gallo. Here it is crisp and dry, the village with this name is just ten miles away. As Quillan brought me my petite filet with gratin potatoes, I tried to clear the table, and I bobbled my tiny tape recorder and watched it topple in slow motion, over the side and into the river. No worries. The chef stripped down to his skivvies and jumped in to rescue the soggy device!

This boat is called Le Coche D'O, meaning the coach of the water, and at night it's a cool funky water bar--they have waters from all over the world, including Glenlivet, in addition to the Burgundian wines.

Touring the local roads you could see the stones that litter the soil. Limestone too, is in this soil and it was once barged down the Yonne to build Paris long ago. It is this tough soil that makes the wines here so memorable--the harder it is for the vines the better the end result, a geologist once told me.

Dans le Gare De Lyon, Attendez pour le TGV a Montbard

I'm sitting in the Gare de Lyon in Paris, waiting for an 11:45 am TGV train. I arrived after a pleasant flight, watching a silly movie about a plague in Paris that was spread by fleas shaken off of dead rats by a misunderstood lad who watched his father plunge to his death in Africa. I always love that feeling of traveling solo; arriving at the gate, waiting in line, having time to think and then doing things like taking cabs and getting to the train station all by myself.

My hosts didn't realize that the 8:44 am train they suggested I take to Montbard doesn't run on Tuesdays, only during the weekends. So I am here waiting in this chilly station. Every so often an amusing little song plays, it is the TGV themesong, announcing a departure. I've paid for 10 hours of wireless, giving up the idea of getting on line for free in Europe, and I am happy to say it's working. But the blogger instructions are in French, and I am surprised that I can read them.

Also surprising, the cafe au lait at this L'express Bleu was watery and weak-assed, so I ordered an espresso to wake me up. Now I've gotta find a SIM card so that my phone will work here in France, so I can call my hosts and tell them I'm on the later train.

It's greener here than in New England, still chilly but the trees are far advanced and there was green on the sides of the crowded highway as we battled traffic trying to get here for that elusive 8:44 departure.

Turning Soldier's Trash into BioFuel

I'm in the terminal at Logan with way, way too much time on my hands. I thought I should get here early, but this is ridiculous! So I've finished the NY Times, and there are many stories that are worth sharing. First was a piece by Matthew Wald about a plastic wrapper being developed that could be turned into biodiesel fuel after use. The Pentagon calls it the Mobile Integrated Sustainable Energy Recovery Program.

Soldiers in combat use about seven pounds of disposable plastics and paper a day. Dr. Richard Gross, from Polytechnic University in Brooklyn, has developed 'bioplastic', made from vegetable oils, that can be easily broken down using an enzyme they turn into fuel. "The trick is take a class of chemicals in the oil called fatty acids, from soy oil or another crop source, and alter them so that they have the chemical equivalent of a 'hook' at one end. Then they can be linked into long chains, a building block of plastics. Add cross-links that run from chain to chain, and the plastic goes from a film to a rigid material.

"Converting the soy oil to fatty acid is also done with an enzyme. A gene-altered yeast does that job. Jeremy Mishull, the president of DNA 2.0, said yeast was chosen because that conversion takes energy, and the yeast will provide that when fed cheap food."

Burgundy and Alsace Await--But First, the Anxiety

I am a nervous nellie when it comes to the day of departure. I'm sure my fellow GoNOMAD Travelers can relate to the intensity of travel fear---forgetting something, hitting traffic en route to the airport, not having the right papers etc, all usually unfounded but nonetheless unsettling.

I got to the office early, no time for our usual oatmeal, just rush rush to pack and get all of the errands done. I know that when we're on the road heading for Logan, things will come together and I'll remember that I'm backed up by a solid staff of people who really do know how to run things in my absence....they've had a lot of experience.

My flight tonight will take me to Paris, and then I will board a TGV fast train for a 90-minute ride to Montbard, in Burgundy. I will have a day there alone to explore Auxerre, then to the Lion D'Or hotel in Vezelay. The other journos will arrive on Wednesday, and together we will visit some wine cellars and enjoy lunch on a farm, then explore Dijon.

Later in the trip we head up to Strasbourg, in eastern France near the German border. We will see the Neuf Brisch, built by Louis XIV, which is an impenetrable octagonal fortress in the shape of a star. In the middle, there is a market, and the whole place is surrounded by five-meter ramparts. You'll see photos of this place next week, I look forward to sharing details of the trip with all of you as the week unfolds.

Now I am working on breathing, relaxing, and just trying to enjoy and not worry about my businesses while I am abroad.

Pepin's 40 Years of Menus are In The Books

I've always loved Jacques Pepin, the easygoing and talented French chef. He was quoted in today's Boston Herald, disputing a recently published book that said his pal Julia Child was a homophobe. He also talked about cooking.

“It is so much more satisfying cooking for friends and family who are much more important than dignitaries,” said Pepin, who would rather forage for mushrooms or go trout fishing with his buds than prepare a banquet for 500.

“It’s cooking with love. You can never make mistakes with your family, except, of course, with the kids who may think some things are disgusting.”

But not Pepin’s 3-year-old granddaughter, Shorey. According to her grandpere, the wee gourmet’s palate is quite adventurous because her mom, Claudine, feeds her “really good stuff.”

Scattered amongst the recipes and memories in “Chez Jacques” are photos of menu cards the amateur artist has designed over the years, as well as his colorful paintings.

“Over the past 40 years of marriage, we have six big books filled with menu cards I painted,” said the amateur artist. “We would have the guests sign the menus and then we’d put them in a book. It’s just something we’ve always done.”

What a Party We Had!

I got up earlier than I wanted to; there was work to do at the cafe. Last night's party was a smashing success! A huge turnout, a full cafe, customers, friends, and strangers who read about the New Zealand show and wanted to see the photos.

It was a memorable occasion...the cafe was decked out for the evening with elegant green tablecloths, candles surrounded by coffee beans, a copious bar with everything you could imagine, and even a bartender and server on hand.

I couldn't have been more pleased--we even got to see my old Uncle George, who is pushing 90 and drove up in his Prius from South Amherst to be a part of it. Sony Stark came over from Albany, and everyone who showed up had a great time.

I guess my fears for an unsuccessful party were unfounded. That's nice to know, as we enter our second year of business at the GoNOMAD Cafe!

Awake at Three-three-three, Sweating the Details

Last night I tossed and turned, couldn't sleep, I remember glancing at the clock and seeing all threes. I was awake worrying about the GoNOMAD Cafe's party tonight. Who will show up? Will it be too crowded? Worst of all, will I go out and stock up a bar and nobody will be there to consume it?

I think having a party makes you vulnerable, because you're asking people to show up--it's risky, people don't show up, and even those who say they're coming, who dutifully RSVP, often blow it off at the very end.

Our cafe is tiny, so I worry that too many people might come. But when I get to thinking, I realize that a crowded party is good. That having no room is good. So I'll either be happy with all of the space and just a few guests, or I'll be packed in like sardines and people will be waiting to get in.

These are the things that kept me tossing and turning last night. And when I woke up and petted Mama cat, lying beside me, I thought about more details, and where the coats will go, and whether we really need to buy expensive Scotch, and whether....well the details are my problem, but I hope this party is a success!

The Dixie Cruise Ship--The Way To Travel

Simon is the Viceroy, Sanjaya is Gandhi

On the Today Show this morning, there was a funny segment with two television writers, one from TV Guide, who were opining about last night's vote on American Idol. We joined the voters and said goodbye to the tearful Gina Glockson, who we grew to admire since she quit last year's competition, and clawed her way back all the way to the final ten.

TV Guide's man talked about Sanjaya, the kid who can't sing who has Simon Cowell vowing to quit if he makes it to the end. "With the sixtieth anniversary of India, Sanjaya (whose parents are Indian) is striking a blow for the nation, and Simon represents the British Raj, he's the Viceroy. It's India against the British....and the entire Indian population plus millions of 13-year-old girls are all voting for Sanjaya, plus fans of Howard Stern."

His partner on the couch said she thought that Jordin Sparks would make it all the way, and that the two divas, Melinda and LaKeisha, would 'cancel eachother out.' There is some sense to this logic, and the seventeen-year-old Jordin does have quite a voice. But my choice is the shy and awkward Melinda, who can just plain sing better than anyone else up there.

The NY Post Drops its Price To a Slim Nickel

Today's Village Voice has a funny column by Keach Hagey about the NY Post, where Rupert has decided to drop the cost of the daily paper to chump change.

"After a long day of shopping at Gimbels, nothing beats an icy highball at McHales, then heading home on the Ninth Avenue El with the newspaper you bought for a nickel. Well at least one of these things you can do again. The New York Post recently began offering $13 subscriptions, or five cents per copy.

"Startled observers, rubbing their eyes to make sure they hadn't fallen into a tabloid time machine, were split on whether this proved the Post was crazy or evil. "It's a small step to giving it away," said Piet Bakker, who runs an Amsterdam based blog, newspaperinnovation.com, which tracks the rise of free dailies. "We will definitely see more models like this," he said.

A few months before resigning in 2005, Post publisher Lachlan Murdoch acknowledged to BusinessWeek that halving the cover price widened the paper's annual loss, rumored to be in the tens of millions. In the same article, he said he intended to restore the paper's 50-cent cover price if and when the Post passed the Daily News in circulation, adding, "We very much care that it make money one day." But it seems pretty clear that "one day" will not come until the Post is straddling the bleeding, lifeless corpse of the undercut Daily News. (Current Post publisher Paul Carlucci did not return calls for comment.)

Daniel Magnus, who publishes the free daily Metro New York, declared "The traditional newspaper model in the eyes of investors is done."

A Former Terrorists Cites the Trouble with Islam

Tawfik Hamid was once a member of Jemaah Islamiya, the Islamist terrorist group. Now he's a doctor who is trying to convince the world that radical Islam is wrong. Very wrong. He wrote a piece in yesterday's WSJ called The Trouble With Islam.

"Indeed there is much that is clearly wrong with the Islamic world. Women are stoned to death and undergo clitorectomies. Gays hang from the gallows under the approving eyes of the proponents of Shariah, the legal code of Islam. Sunni and Shi'a massacre each other daily in Iraq. Palestinian mothers teach 3-year-old boys and girls the ideal of martyrdom. One would expect the orthodox Islamic establishment to evade or dismiss these complaints, but less happily, the non-muslim priests of enlightenment in the West have come, actively and passively, to the Islamist's defense.

"It is discouraging and ironic that many non-Muslim, Western intellectuals--who unceasingly claim to support human rights--have become obstacles to reforming Islam. Political correctness among Westerners obstructs unambiguous criticism of Shariah's inhumanity. They find socioeconomic or political excuses for Islamic terrorism, such as poverty, colonialism, discrimination or the existence of Israel. What incentive is there for Muslims to demand reform when Western progressives pave the way for Islamist barbarity?"

Hamid cites the fact that nobody protested the publication of the famous Danish cartoons depicting Mohammed for four months until the magazine's formal apology--then the riots began. He says the apology was percieved by the Islamists as weakness and concession. "It is time for all of us in the free world to face the reality of Salafi Islam or the reality of radical Islam will continue to face us."

The Diary of a Swinger Reveals It's Not for Everyone

Scottish writer Ewan Morrison recently published a book about his experiences as a newbie Swinger. The book is called "Swung," and philosophically explores the motivation behind people who choose to have sex with strangers. Here is how he reflects on the experience, after realizing it was not for him.

"My year of swinging ended before I completed my book.

I felt I had to stop and take stock and that a novel would be the vehicle for that. The year ended with a prior stage of escalation - an invitation to an orgy at which I realised I'd get much more from it if I was really in love with a partner.

"My partners had been explorers, not lovers. I was not in love - but I think in that year I learned to love people more, to be more compassionate, more accepting of difference. My year of swinging ended with many new friends who were no longer lovers. Each of us, generally, moved on. Joanne now has a partner and a child. Sally has an ongoing relationship with a couple.

Which leads me to believe that swinging is, for the committed core, a lifestyle that they live day in, day out. But, for the majority who pass through the websites, it is a stage gone through for a year or so, a volatile one filled with questions about boundaries. Who am I? How will I live? Can I be happy? Can I love? What is love?

Swinging is not so much an answer as a question asked deeply - for, as many philosophers say, the only questions worth asking should place your life, and your body, at the heart of the question. "

Cellphones That Read Billboards

Read some amazing stuff in newspapers the past few days. Yesterday it was the NY Times, about cellphones in Japan that read billboards and provide links to websites for passing motorists. It is a new technology that uses square designs similar to barcodes that impart much more information...and open up incredibly clever ways to connect advertisers with customers.

You can wave your cell at a magazine ad and get the recipe on a website, or use the handset to pay for your bus fare. On Japan's All Nippon Airways, for example, a quarter of the salarymen passengers wave their phones instead of using paper tickets to board.

The ramifications are big...but there are problems. Mostly because only new cellphones are equipped with the special readers, and there are two kinds of phones here--the world standard GSM, and the market leader Verizon's CDMA platform. Only GSM can read the messages, and it seems like betamax versus VHS redux.

Then I read a story in the Wall Street Journal explained why E85 ethanol fuel, has had such a difficult time getting traction in the market. It's because oil companies make it very hard for the manufacturers of the fuel to distribute it in their stations. Rules like not allowing E85 to be sold under the same canopy as the regular gas, or Exxon Mobil's rule that they can't put up signs for E85, or many other restrictions just make it plain tough for the new fuel to spread in the market.

The oil companies are fine with buying ethanol to mix with 85% gas, but rules like not allowing customers to use their company charge cards to pay, and forcing E85 manufacturers to have their own pumps just throws up roadblocks.

And that's why it's only a tiny percent of total gas sales, despite the politicians speeches touting the 'ethanol future' are of the new E85, and there are only a relative handful of the new 'flexfuel cars' on the roads today.

Would You Blog for Cash?

Secret Negotiations for a New Monetization Scheme: We're in negotiations for a new branch of our business--Blogging for cash. We aren't gonna tell you who and we aren't gonna tell you how much, but leave it as we've figured out another clever monetization technique and we think the numbers will work.

We proceed with caution though...these company blogs can get tricky. We want more candor than we think our client is willing to show, and we also worry about the source of info to blog about running a bit thin. But if we stretch our minds, we can publish three interesting posts a week on his topic, which is travel-related.

We all love our regular blogs. That's because anything can go in them, and they're not topic limited. But daily blogging has enriched our writing, made us sound better, and every day is good exercise like running or biking. A mind exercise to write a compact, brief post that captures a moment, an idea, or a person's voice.

We are not going to be on the surface with these new commercial blogs. I remember reading that Jim Romenesko whose famous news media portal is read by almost every working journalist today, writes a blog for Starbucks. He doesn't put that out on his popular Poynter.org column, but he doesn't hide. But I am inclined to keep our identities silent in this new venture, and have the blog author be the CEO of the company. I think people wanna read the blog that is coming from the top dog, and that's how it will sound.

These details are being hammered out, and my gut is that we'll be able to do this and make money and manage the time. Like a wave, anything you gotta do three times a week is neverending, and thus quite daunting.

The hard part is figuring out how much to charge to make it work for them and for us. Without Win-win, you get lose-lose.

Immigrants Are The Best Thing to Happen to Cities

Immigration is a loaded word, and in Hazelton PA, the mayor is on the warpath against what he sees as the biggest problem the scrappy town has ever faced. But in a thoughtful column by Julia Vitullo-Martin in the Wall Street Journal on Saturday, a cogent argument was made for how much better cities are with large immigrant populations.

Take Flushing Queens, for example. This was once a virtual urban wasteland, with boarded up businesses, empty sidewalks. No one wanted to live there or open businesses there...but immigrants have poured in and revitalized the streets with their shops, ethnic restaurants and pizazz.

Again and again, the most vital and booming American cities are those with high immigrant populations, she says. "Jewish diamond cutters, Korean green grocers, Chinese restauranteurs, Russian massage therapists, Irish bartenders, and Greek coffee-shop owners aren't stereotypes. They are reflective or a real economic phenomenon. Immigrants sell goods an services to their own group,and, once successful, to everybody else. Armed with little capital, they start labor-intensive businesses that employ friends and neighbors. The settle in neighborhoods that are decrepit and manage to change that after they make the area their own."

She cites the Dominicans as the people driving the next big wave of revitalization, who no longer stay just in the big cities but have spread out across the US. They are opening businesses in downtrodden population-losing cities like Reading, PA and Grand Rapids Michigan. The question is whether the hard-working upwardly mobile immigrants there 'be able to reap the rewards of American society fast enough to get their children educated and keep them out of trouble?