I was cut off from the news for a couple of days but, when I reentered civilization from the desert again, I was horrified to see that the Israeli government had unleashed a massacre against the Palestinians in Gaza in what seems to me to be a typical Israeli overreaction to Palestinian violence against Israeli citizens. They responded to the Palestinian's firing of mortars, which are essentially high falutin bottle-rockets compared to the Israeli weaponry supplied by the U.S., by launching a full-scale air assault on the Gaza strip. Seeing the typical pro-Israeli bias in the U.S. press I can't help but ask a question: if a child walked up to a full-grown man and started punching him and the man responded by stabbing the child in the throat, who is more culpable, the child who did the provoking or the man who did the stabbing? The fact is that Palestinian actions are a nuisance while the Israeli actions are far more serious and far more worthy of condemnation.
Let's have some fun with numbers. First off, according to The Economist, about 420 Palestinians have been killed by Israeli operations in the Gaza strip before the current slaughter of its caged inhabitants. Of those 420, about a fifth of them are believed to be civilians. The current death toll of Palestinians during the last couple of days is about 390 and rising. Does anyone want to guess the number of Israelis killed by these rocket attacks all year? The number of Israeli deaths comes to a grand total of five, four of those being during the current Israeli offensive. According to an article in MSN, about 700,000 Israelis live within range of Hamas's homemade rockets. So that means, for the year, the chances of an Israeli being killed by rocket fire is about 5 out of 700,000. I thought to myself, "That is funny, the population of Austin is about 700,000." and I couldn't help but wonder what the murder rate of Austin is. With a quick google search, I found out that, in 2003, there were 27 murders out of a population of 682,316 people. That means your chance of getting murdered in Austin is higher than your chance of being killed by rocket fire in Israel. Austin's murder rate in 2003, by the way, was about half of the national average. It is a tranquil city. I could probably walk up to a crack-head at 12th and Chicon, slap him in the face, and live to tell about it. I doubt that all of the Israeli citizens are as terrified as the stock Israeli citizens the American press interview as the average citizen of Austin isn't too worried about being murdered.
I hope that one day the Israeli government will realize that the only military solution to Palestinian problem is the final solution of turning the Gaza Strip and the West Bank into giant death camps, marching all the Palestinians into gas chambers, and threatening nuclear anhilation to anyone who challenges them. I would hope the Israeli people haven't developed the cognitive dissonance required for such an atrocity. To bring about real, lasting change, the onus of responsibilty lies on the shoulders of those who are more powerful. I think that more carrot and less stick is in order. If the Israeli government did the grown-up thing and starting easing the economic blockade by allowing food and medical supplies into the territory and promising further enticements for the Palestinians provided that rocket attacks cease or, at least, slow considerably, I guarantee that it would be more effective than the current slaughter which is bound to lead to more tit-for-tat recriminations in the future. The fact that the U.S. government is again towing the official line that the Palestinians are the culprits and the Israeli government is blameless and angelic is not helping anything. The U.S. government should immediately end all support for the Israeli military and demand a cease-fire because it is the only nation the Israelis will listen to. For some reason, I doubt that is going to happen. The incoming Obama administration is probably not going to bring real change to this conflict as he has been silent about this conflict and his incoming Secretary of State is a war hawk.
In other news, the U.S. has had its first official Santa massacre. This seemed like such an inevitability to me as the U.S. is the only country that, individually and collectively, makes Israel seem like a model of self-restraint. I can only imagine what was going through this guy's head. He must have thought something like, "I can't believe that evil bitch is divorcing me. I know what I can do. I think I will kill her and every single person I can who was invited to her Christmas party. I can dress as Santa so I stay in the holiday spirit." He was a laid-off aerospace engineer (read military subcontractor) so I can only guess that he was probably of the Fox-News-watching, jingoist variety of person that plagues American society. I predict that in the future there will be more Santa massacres, so much so, that they will probably compete to be the deadliest Santa killer ever. Right now the bar is set at nine. Maybe the Easter bunny and Jesus can get in on the act, too.
I am in Lima, Peru right now, staying at the apartment of a friend of mine. Lima is massive and hot during the day right now as it is summertime. This place abounds with beautiful architecture and lovely graffiti. My friend, his name is Marco, lives in one of the nicer parts of town and, I can tell yall, it is a completely different world than most of Peru. The area of town he lives in is like a nice neighborhood anywhere in the U.S., except you still can't drink the water. After not seeing a white Peruvian in all of Peru, I see them on a daily basis here. The streets here are well paved and there are lots of parks. I am going to spend the New Year here and explore the city after my bike is fixed.
Monday, December 29, 2008
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Cheap-ass, Motherfucking, Piece-of-Shit, Chinese Innertubes
This last week, I learned that rain at 10,000 may be unpleasant but rain at 13,000 feet is downright hellish. It freezing cold and usually mixed with hail. Yesterday, I had had my share of rain and was very happy to find a building that was under construction where I could pitch my tent. Having a roof is a luxury which I don't always have on the road. It was nice to let all of my gear dry.
I had formerly had a high opinion of Peruvian roads. That was before I did extensive riding in the mountains of Peru. The roadway I rode on today was under construction, to put it politely. There were long stretches where the road was nothing more than a mud pit. Fortunately, I was wearing all of my rain gear as a precaution from my unpleasant day yesterday. I managed to become completely covered in mud which happens more often than one might think.
While descending, I couldn't help but think, "At least I'm not climbing this road." Sure enough, I met another cycle-tourist going the other direction. She was Ani from Switzerland, the first solo female cyclist I have met thus far. Girl power, bitches! I warned her about the lovely road conditions that lay ahead and we parted ways.
Neither the Chinese or Indians seem to know anything about making innertubes. The Indian innertubes that I have used almost always have a bulge somewhere which drives me fucking crazy. While annoying, the Indian innertubes, function, at least. The Chinese innertubes don't have the bulge but they have an even more annoying problem. They slowly leak air and when you try to pump them up, the valve snaps in half. I had this happen to two different innertubes within days. As I had used up all of my cheap Chinese innertubes, I actually had to jump on one of the colectivos with my bicycle and all my gear.
The first few colectivos didn't stop. It seems that they didn't want to carry my bicycle which is unusual since I have seen hog-tied sheep riding on the top of them. As I had descended into the desert, this was a somewhat worrisome development. Finally, one of them stopped for me and we were off to the coastal city of Barranca, Peru where I am now.
By some Christmas miracle, I managed to find some new innertubes. I got them at the bike shop right across from the collectivo station. They are shraeder valve innertubes, not that cheap Chinese presti-valve bullshit. Tomorrow, I am going to start heading the next 200 kilometers to Lima where I have a friend waiting for me and I should be able to find a replacement for my ailing rear rim. Hopefully, Santa will give me a shitload of weed this year instead of the diarrhea I got last Christmas.
I had formerly had a high opinion of Peruvian roads. That was before I did extensive riding in the mountains of Peru. The roadway I rode on today was under construction, to put it politely. There were long stretches where the road was nothing more than a mud pit. Fortunately, I was wearing all of my rain gear as a precaution from my unpleasant day yesterday. I managed to become completely covered in mud which happens more often than one might think.
While descending, I couldn't help but think, "At least I'm not climbing this road." Sure enough, I met another cycle-tourist going the other direction. She was Ani from Switzerland, the first solo female cyclist I have met thus far. Girl power, bitches! I warned her about the lovely road conditions that lay ahead and we parted ways.
Neither the Chinese or Indians seem to know anything about making innertubes. The Indian innertubes that I have used almost always have a bulge somewhere which drives me fucking crazy. While annoying, the Indian innertubes, function, at least. The Chinese innertubes don't have the bulge but they have an even more annoying problem. They slowly leak air and when you try to pump them up, the valve snaps in half. I had this happen to two different innertubes within days. As I had used up all of my cheap Chinese innertubes, I actually had to jump on one of the colectivos with my bicycle and all my gear.
The first few colectivos didn't stop. It seems that they didn't want to carry my bicycle which is unusual since I have seen hog-tied sheep riding on the top of them. As I had descended into the desert, this was a somewhat worrisome development. Finally, one of them stopped for me and we were off to the coastal city of Barranca, Peru where I am now.
By some Christmas miracle, I managed to find some new innertubes. I got them at the bike shop right across from the collectivo station. They are shraeder valve innertubes, not that cheap Chinese presti-valve bullshit. Tomorrow, I am going to start heading the next 200 kilometers to Lima where I have a friend waiting for me and I should be able to find a replacement for my ailing rear rim. Hopefully, Santa will give me a shitload of weed this year instead of the diarrhea I got last Christmas.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Sarah Palin
CHORUS
I don't buy the religion that other people sell.
I don't care if I go to Heaven or if I go to Hell.
I don't pledge allegiance to one nation under God.
I won't just sit there like a puppet, acquiese, and nod
when you try to cram your religion down into my throat
those lies and superstition that you memorized by rote.
I won't drink the Kool-aid even with a gun to my head.
I'll take a couple of you fools with me before I'm dead.
CHORUS:
AMERICAN TALIBAN, GO BACK TO AFGHANISTAN.
YOUR LIES AND HYPOCRISY DESTROY OUR DEMOCRACY.
NEANDERTHAL CHRISTO-FASCIST, REDNECK PSYCHO SADIST.
KEEP YOUR RELIGION AWAY FROM ME AND JUST LET ME BE FREE.
I think I'll start a new religion. I should give it a try.
If Jesus and Joseph Smith can do it than so can I.
We'll spend all our time smoking ganja and worshipping the moon and sun.
Every day, all day long, we'll be having feasts and fun.
We'll worship the gods of music by dancing until dawn.
The party will never stop it will go on and on and on.
The only marriages we'll allow will be the gay ones.
We'll give free condoms and abortions to every one.
CHORUS
I don't buy the religion that other people sell.
I don't care if I go to Heaven or if I go to Hell.
I don't pledge allegiance to one nation under God.
I won't just sit there like a puppet, acquiese, and nod
when you try to cram your religion down into my throat
those lies and superstition that you memorized by rote.
I won't drink the Kool-aid even with a gun to my head.
I'll take a couple of you fools with me before I'm dead.
CHORUS:
AMERICAN TALIBAN, GO BACK TO AFGHANISTAN.
YOUR LIES AND HYPOCRISY DESTROY OUR DEMOCRACY.
NEANDERTHAL CHRISTO-FASCIST, REDNECK PSYCHO SADIST.
KEEP YOUR RELIGION AWAY FROM ME AND JUST LET ME BE FREE.
I think I'll start a new religion. I should give it a try.
If Jesus and Joseph Smith can do it than so can I.
We'll spend all our time smoking ganja and worshipping the moon and sun.
Every day, all day long, we'll be having feasts and fun.
We'll worship the gods of music by dancing until dawn.
The party will never stop it will go on and on and on.
The only marriages we'll allow will be the gay ones.
We'll give free condoms and abortions to every one.
CHORUS
From the Desert to the Mountains
I just arrived in the town of Huaraz, Peru. It is a lovely place indeed. There are about a dozen snow-capped peaks just outside of the city to the east. Getting here was not the most pleasurable experience as I had ascended a height of 13,877 feet (a new personal best) on a dirt road with a badly cracked rear rim. I passed through a number of villages that didn't have any places to eat other than stores that only sold cookies, potato chips, cans of tuna, soda, and coca leaves. I pretty much had to force myself to suffer food rationing and I went to bed with hunger pangs a number of times. Coca leaves are known to have a hunger repressing properties and I took advantage them because of the lack of food.
I also left the wonderfully dry desert for the cold rains of the mountains. The rain actually turned the road into nothing more than a mud pit at a number of places. I even had to get off my bike and push it for a small stretch. Descending into Huaraz during a torrential downpour was downright hellish. Just outside of the city, I was trapped between a bus and a semi on a road that could best be described as a mud cascade since it was unpaved and had no gutters. When I finally got to the city, I had to change out of my wet clothes so I wouldn't get sick. I am now happily dry, comfortable, and well fed at a hostel where I plan to relax for the next couple of days.
It is amazing how much contrast there is between the mountains and the desert here. When you are high in the mountains it is lush and green. The coastal deserts are almost completely devoid of native plant life. I went through long stretches of road where there is nothing but miles and miles of sand. Fortunately, because of the strong Antarctic wind coming from the south, it is not the hottest desert I have passed through, at least not until the coastal mountain ranges near Casma, Peru block it off. Camping was easy as there are almost no areas that are fenced off. I would just go about 100 meters off the side of road and camp behind a sand dune or some other obstruction. The stark emptiness of the desert is quite incredible. I can only describe the moments where the sun strikes a wind-swept sand dune as moments of perfect beauty. I took some pictures but, as usual, they don't do any justice to the beauty of the places where I was.
Even though the desert is devoid of native plant life, there are parts of it where they have used irrigation to grow rice. I was completely astounded by this as rice is one of the most water intensive crops that one can grow. It seems to me that a country that has managed to grow rice in the desert shouldn't be so poor. Despite the cultivation of water intensive crops in the desert, Peru still manages to consume less than six times less water per capita than the United States. I protested this fact my not showering for a month. In the desert, unlike the jungle, I don't get skin rashes when I don't bathe. I love being dirty. It makes me feel like I am embracing my caveman roots.
I encountered one of the very first locals I have happened upon which didn't seem too friendly to foreigners. As I rode by and said, "Buenas tardes." to indicate my friendliness she said something in Quechua to here dog which then started chasing me and barking at me. Her tone was aggressive which made me think that she was saying, "Sick him, Sick him." and she did absolutely nothing to restrain her dog unlike most people with over-exuberant guard dogs. I just ignored her dog until it went away but I almost sassed her for her rude behavior.
If you have any kind of phobia of dogs, you should not ride a bicycle through Latin America. There are legions of dogs which roam the streets in every part I have passed through. As there are no leash laws, domesticated dogs and stray dogs mingle at every corner, often chasing passer-bys on bikes and motorcycles. I am not afraid of dogs at all. As an animal who travels upright, humans have an evolutionary advantage over dogs. Not only do we scare them because we appear bigger to them but we can pick up rocks and throw them. Since I carry a large buck knife, I know that no dog is my match in a fight. One of the funniest moments involving dogs, that I have seen, was in the city of Sullana, Peru. There was a large pack of about 10 dogs roaming the streets and fighting amongst themselves to establish dominance. It seems that a bitch had wandered into their midst and they were fighting for the first dibs to enseminate her. The locals just laughed at this and shrugged as if it is an everyday occurence.
I also left the wonderfully dry desert for the cold rains of the mountains. The rain actually turned the road into nothing more than a mud pit at a number of places. I even had to get off my bike and push it for a small stretch. Descending into Huaraz during a torrential downpour was downright hellish. Just outside of the city, I was trapped between a bus and a semi on a road that could best be described as a mud cascade since it was unpaved and had no gutters. When I finally got to the city, I had to change out of my wet clothes so I wouldn't get sick. I am now happily dry, comfortable, and well fed at a hostel where I plan to relax for the next couple of days.
It is amazing how much contrast there is between the mountains and the desert here. When you are high in the mountains it is lush and green. The coastal deserts are almost completely devoid of native plant life. I went through long stretches of road where there is nothing but miles and miles of sand. Fortunately, because of the strong Antarctic wind coming from the south, it is not the hottest desert I have passed through, at least not until the coastal mountain ranges near Casma, Peru block it off. Camping was easy as there are almost no areas that are fenced off. I would just go about 100 meters off the side of road and camp behind a sand dune or some other obstruction. The stark emptiness of the desert is quite incredible. I can only describe the moments where the sun strikes a wind-swept sand dune as moments of perfect beauty. I took some pictures but, as usual, they don't do any justice to the beauty of the places where I was.
Even though the desert is devoid of native plant life, there are parts of it where they have used irrigation to grow rice. I was completely astounded by this as rice is one of the most water intensive crops that one can grow. It seems to me that a country that has managed to grow rice in the desert shouldn't be so poor. Despite the cultivation of water intensive crops in the desert, Peru still manages to consume less than six times less water per capita than the United States. I protested this fact my not showering for a month. In the desert, unlike the jungle, I don't get skin rashes when I don't bathe. I love being dirty. It makes me feel like I am embracing my caveman roots.
I encountered one of the very first locals I have happened upon which didn't seem too friendly to foreigners. As I rode by and said, "Buenas tardes." to indicate my friendliness she said something in Quechua to here dog which then started chasing me and barking at me. Her tone was aggressive which made me think that she was saying, "Sick him, Sick him." and she did absolutely nothing to restrain her dog unlike most people with over-exuberant guard dogs. I just ignored her dog until it went away but I almost sassed her for her rude behavior.
If you have any kind of phobia of dogs, you should not ride a bicycle through Latin America. There are legions of dogs which roam the streets in every part I have passed through. As there are no leash laws, domesticated dogs and stray dogs mingle at every corner, often chasing passer-bys on bikes and motorcycles. I am not afraid of dogs at all. As an animal who travels upright, humans have an evolutionary advantage over dogs. Not only do we scare them because we appear bigger to them but we can pick up rocks and throw them. Since I carry a large buck knife, I know that no dog is my match in a fight. One of the funniest moments involving dogs, that I have seen, was in the city of Sullana, Peru. There was a large pack of about 10 dogs roaming the streets and fighting amongst themselves to establish dominance. It seems that a bitch had wandered into their midst and they were fighting for the first dibs to enseminate her. The locals just laughed at this and shrugged as if it is an everyday occurence.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)